Clad in her usual black kimono embroidered with subtle floral patterns, Asami returned to her playground—her beloved sanctuary—and to her favorite sandbox. Her violet eyes sparkled with excitement, her tiny heart thumping with joy. Okaa-san walked beside her, holding her little hand with gentle affection.
This was her domain, her claimed territory, though it existed within the bounds of a public playground. Such technicalities, however, were of no concern to her. To Asami, such notions were irrelevant. Mere footnotes. Her rightful claim over the sandbox had been secured through ancient tradition: the time-honored right of conquest. It was hers and hers alone. Others may have come and gone, but none had what it took to challenge her sovereignty. After all, she was a princess—and what was a princess without a kingdom?
Of course, it hadn't always been this way. The sandbox, in its early days, had been overrun with lesser nobles—common children who saw it as fair game. Yet through persistent will and silent authority, Asami had exiled all rivals from her domain. Her tactics were varied—subtle glances of disapproval, eerily quiet staring contests, and the uncanny ability to appear exactly where unwanted guests least expected. Slowly, but inevitably, her influence grew. Resistance dwindled. One by one, the other children relinquished their claim, leaving her in solitary reign. The sandbox now belonged solely to her. Her rule was absolute. Her dominion uncontested.
Armed with her two tiny hands, her loyal shovel—the Great Shovel of Imperial Authority—and her precious bucket—the Bucket of Bountiful Opulence—Asami resumed her architectural work. Her objective today: complete the inner ward of her majestic sandcastle. The walls required reinforcement. The towers, further height. The keep, elevation. Her Okaa-san sat on a nearby bench, smiling warmly as she watched her little girl work with such fervor and imagination.
Asami's delicate fingers clenched into fists of resolve. She would finish today's goal. She must.
Humming a soft, made-up tune, she worked. "♫ ♪♩♪ ♫ ♬ ♩♫ ~. ♫ ♪♩♪ ♫ ♬ ♩♫ ~." The sand flowed obediently into her bucket, her shovel moving like a seasoned artisan's tool.
But peace never lasted. As was often the case with kingdoms, threats loomed on the horizon.
Unbeknownst to Princess Asami, her small empire faced imminent invasion. Her concentration on construction blinded her to the approaching danger—a band of boys, their intent clear from the way they marched, forming a loose phalanx of rebellion.
"Hey, you..."
"Eh?" Asami turned, puzzled. A sizable group of boys had gathered before her. They looked angry—too angry—and uncomfortably familiar.
"..." None of them spoke, but their unified glare did the talking. They stood there, like a rogue genin squad preparing to challenge a Chunin. And Asami, unshaken, tilted her head ever so slightly. "Are you addressing me?"
A boy stepped forward, arms crossed, his glare fixed. Clearly, the leader. "Yeah, we are. And we're not alone." His tone was laced with challenge, and the others behind him echoed his stance like loyal subordinates.
Asami smiled, radiant and serene. "I can see that. So, tell me, what matter brings you to my court, brave warriors?"
"We're not your friends!" the leader snapped.
"Yet here you are," Asami replied, eyes narrowing, her voice amused. "So there must be something you seek. Speak, or stop wasting my time."
The boy's fists trembled. "We're here to reclaim what's ours. The sandbox belongs to all of us! You have no right to hog it!"
Asami blinked. What treachery! They dared label her the usurper? She—the noble sovereign defending her land—now cast as the villain? Absurd! Clearly, these boys had forgotten history. She had conquered this place fairly!
"Ah, a rebellion? How droll." Her eyes narrowed further, the light in them dimming to a colder hue. "Some of you were exiles, weren't you? I remember your faces."
"Yeah," the leader said, jabbing a finger at her. "You drove us off with that creepy stare of yours! But not this time. Everyone in the neighborhood agrees—you're scary. You're like some evil ghost! But we're not afraid anymore!"
A quiet giggle escaped Asami's lips, her hand covering her mouth daintily. Her eyes glimmered, a faint hint of purple in their depths. "How brave of you. But I must ask—why should I relinquish what's mine?"
"..." One of the boys whispered behind the leader, trembling. "I told you... she's a spirit... We should run."
"Quiet!" their leader hissed, then refocused on her. "We're not scared! Leave now!"
Her stare intensified. "Or?"
The boy faltered. "Or... or we'll make you leave. We're not afraid to use force. Don't think we won't hit you just because you're a girl!"
Asami gasped, feigning shock. "Oh my, such gallantry. Striking a helpless maiden, are we?"
She rose from her sandbox, slowly approaching, her feet brushing the sand with regal grace. She stopped mere inches from him, her eyes boring into his.
"Do you really have it in you, boy? To strike me here and now?"
"I... I do!" the boy stammered, though his voice shook.
"Right in front of my Okaa-san?" she asked softly.
The boy blinked. "Wha—"
Asami smiled sweetly and waved at her mother. "Okaa-san~!"
Her mother, unaware of the tension, waved back with a cheerful "Asami-chan~!"
The boys froze.
"If you hit me, I'll cry," Asami said, voice chillingly casual. "She'll come running. And then... well, let's just say, there will be consequences."
Silence fell. The boys didn't move. Their plan crumbled like poorly packed sand under her words.
"It's not over, girl," the leader muttered through gritted teeth.
"It is. Run along now. You've wasted enough of my time," she said, turning her back on them—an unmistakable show of disrespect in any shinobi duel.
The boy's fists trembled in frustration. "This isn't the end. One day, your Okaa-san won't be around to protect you!"
Asami paused, giggling ominously. "You're welcome to try your luck."
A faint glow shimmered around her—subtle but undeniable. A purple hue danced in the air around her form, like chakra flaring up under immense pressure. Her eyes, though childish, mirrored the menacing glare of a fully awakened dojutsu.
The boys saw it. Whether it was real or just their fear, they believed it.
"Aaaaaaahhhhh!!!" they screamed, fleeing as fast as their legs could carry them. Chaos erupted as they scrambled in every direction, tripping over themselves in their escape.
Asami returned to her castle, shovel and bucket in hand, her aura fading into serenity once more.
"Asami-chan~." Her Okaa-san approached, eyes full of concern. "What were those boys doing? Were they bothering you?"
Asami shook her head. "No, Okaa-san. I believe they wanted to help with my sandcastle, but perhaps they remembered something else they needed to do."
Her mother frowned, puzzled. "Then why did they run away like that?"
Asami tilted her head. "Maybe they're playing hide and seek?"
She then held out her tools. "Okaa-san, will you help me? You can choose the bucket of bountiful opulence or the shovel of imperial authority."
Okaa-san smiled warmly, accepting the shovel with a theatrical bow. "Of course~."
And so, construction resumed, with mother and daughter side by side. The sun climbed higher in the sky, the azure heavens a perfect canvas for a perfect day. A memory was carved into time—one of Asami's happiest days.