A Story That Never Was

Rem gently propped him up, her arms trembling slightly under his weight. Tanaka's limbs hung limp, his head slumped forward as she helped guide him back onto the bed. His breaths were shallow, chest rising and falling in a fragile rhythm.

He could barely keep his eyes open.

Whatever had happened during Felix's examination had drained him nearly to the point of collapse.

Felix, now solemn, had already made the call. Within minutes, the room filled with a tense, heavy silence as Crusch, Wilhelm, and Subaru also came back. 

Tanaka blinked slowly, turning his head toward the group gathered around him. His voice was hoarse, dry, but the words came clear.

"So I'm dying?" he asked flatly, as if seeking confirmation of something he already knew.

The room froze.

Subaru, standing a few steps behind Rem, looked shaken. His brows furrowed deeply, eyes darting between Tanaka and Felix.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, desperate. "Isn't it just… a misunderstanding?"

Felix shook his head, his usual cheer gone, replaced by a grim calm.

"I'm never wrong about a diagnosis," he said quietly. "There's no mistake. Your gate… doesn't have a single trace of Od left."

Tanaka let out a low exhale, his gaze unfocused.

"Okay, fine… So how much do I have left?"

That question hung in the air like a blade suspended over all their heads.

No one answered.

Wilhelm lowered his eyes, brows drawn in silent concern. Rem's hands tightened. Crusch, who tried to be as composed as possible upon entering, now looked stricken. Her eyes locked on Tanaka—wide, disbelieving, a storm of emotions swirling behind them: sorrow, confusion, a tinge of helpless anger.

Felix glanced at her briefly, then back to Tanaka. His lips parted, then closed again. He hesitated before speaking, voice low and heavy.

Tanaka didn't flinch. He didn't blink. Just let the words settle over him like dust.

"…With your condition… you could die at any moment.At best, you have… a month."

"Well," he muttered, "it's probably because I used magic a lot lately."

Felix stepped forward slightly, his expression taut with frustration—not at Tanaka, but at the weight of the truth he was forced to explain.

"When someone drains their Od instead of just mana, it takes more than just energy—it shaves off their lifespan. Piece by piece. They don't die immediately after losing all their Od… but they suffer. Some lose the ability to walk, some fall into comas. It breaks the body down, slowly and painfully."

He paused, letting that sink in, before continuing in a more serious tone.

"But no matter what, there should always be some trace left. No one can use all of it, even if they tried. What's left behind keeps absorbing mana from the atmosphere—just enough to keep a person alive."

Felix's eyes narrowed, his voice tightening.

"But in your case… there's nothing. No trace. No residue. It's like your Od was never there to begin with." "That makes you…" he hesitated, the words reluctant on his tongue."…a dead man walking."

The words settled over the room like a dark fog.

"It doesn't make any sense," Subaru said suddenly, voice brittle with disbelief. "You were fine just a month ago, and now this? How could something like this happen so suddenly?"

Tanaka didn't respond.

His face remained unreadable. Detached. Eyes half-lidded, staring toward some distant point beyond the walls of the room.

Crusch, arms crossed and posture still composed, studied him carefully.

"You don't seem surprised," she said. "Or even concerned."

Tanaka turned his head slightly in her direction. "Would you prefer I break down and start crying?"

Felix stepped forward a little, trying to regain some control of the situation.

"Have you encountered any symptoms?"

Tanaka shrugged. "Nothing specific."

Rem, still at his side, turned toward Felix, her voice soft but urgent. "Whenever Tanaka-Kun used magic, he'd cough up blood… or get nosebleeds. He even collapsed a few times…"

Tanaka shot her a tired glance."Rem, you don't need to spill every detail."

"Stop treating this like a joke. "Her voice cracked as she said it.

He let out a quiet breath. Not quite a sigh. "In any case, there's nothing anyone can do. Right?"

That silenced the room again—until Crusch stepped forward, jaw clenched.

"I cannot guarantee that you'll survive, no," she admitted, her voice firm despite the sadness behind it. "And I won't pretend the odds are in your favor. But Ferris is the best healer in Lugunica. If anyone can help you, it's him. Your best chance—"

"Let me stop you right there," Tanaka interrupted, raising a hand.

"I really do appreciate the effort, I mean it. But let's not do that. If my days are numbered, I'd rather not spend them locked in a room hoping for some miracle. I don't want to waste what little time I might have left."

Subaru's fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell are you saying? We're talking about your life here!"

Tanaka didn't flinch.

"Relax," he said with a hollow chuckle. "I'm a regular smoker. I've already imagined the whole thing—stage four lung cancer, doctor telling me I've got a few months. I wouldn't go through the hell of chemo. Just let it run its course."

That, of course, wasn't entirely true.

If he were back on Earth... with his family still around…He would've clung to every scrap of hope. Every treatment. Every painful breath. But here? What was he even hanging on for?

"I'd rather just get it over with than suffer through another few miserable weeks," he said quietly.

He didn't say what he really felt. That deep down, in some twisted way—He'd been waiting for this.

Crusch's gaze sharpened, her expression hardening with authority.

"What you're saying is a breach of contract," she said. "I made an agreement with Emilia. That agreement states you are to undergo treatment."

Tanaka snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowing for the first time.

"Treatment for what, exactly?!""You can't treat this! Just let it go!"

His voice cracked—louder than before, echoing off the walls.

Silence followed. A heavy, suffocating silence.

Everyone stared at him. Subaru looked stunned. Rem's eyes shimmered. Even Felix, usually unshaken, stood motionless.

Tanaka closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"…Sorry." His voice was low, softer this time. "I didn't mean to raise my voice."

He turned to Rem and the others, forcing himself into something resembling a smile—strained and thin.

"This is my choice. I'm not asking for anyone to agree with it."

He pushed himself up from the bed slowly, wavering slightly on his feet.

"I'll leave the estate when Subaru's treatment is done." "But for now… I'm heading to my room."

He didn't wait for permission. Just walked past them with sluggish, quiet steps—like the weight of the words just spoken had finally settled on his back.

No one followed.

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It was only the second day at the Karsten estate, but the mood had shifted completely.

The usual afternoon rhythm—the sound of wooden swords clashing with Wilhelm at the training yard.

Instead, Subaru remained in his room, lost in thought. Crusch returned to her office, though her mind clearly remained elsewhere. Everyone quietly drifted back to their quarters.

Tanaka, after some time lying motionless on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, finally pulled himself up. A dull ache pulsed in his limbs, but he ignored it. He needed a shower.

Steam clouded the marble bathroom mirrors as hot water poured over him. It washed away the dirt, the fatigue… but not the hollowness. That stayed.

After drying off, he stepped into a fresh shirt and pants, running a hand through his damp hair. As he made his way upstairs toward his room, the creaking floorboards were the only sound accompanying him.

Halfway up the staircase, a soft voice called out.

"Kazuki Tanaka."

He turned his head. Crusch stood near the hallway entrance, bathed in the subtle silver light of dusk filtering through the estate windows.

She was wearing a sleek black evening dress—elegant and understated, yet quietly arresting. The soft fabric clung gracefully to her frame, the neckline modest but confident. She looked poised, regal, but there was a gentleness in her eyes tonight.

"Would you mind joining me for dinner?" she asked, voice calm yet oddly gentle.

Tanaka blinked, caught off guard. "Doesn't Rem usually just leave it in my room?"

Crusch gave a small smile and stepped a little closer.

"I told her not to, tonight. I was hoping you'd join me instead."

As Tanaka was just about to object, she cut him off, "Don't worry, I'm not planning to bring up what happened in the morning." She added, "The breeze is pleasantly cool, and it's the perfect weather for a quiet meal and a drink beneath the night sky."

Then she paused, folding her arms slightly.

"But if the idea displeases you, I'll have your food sent to your room as usual."

Her tone was diplomatic, almost casual, but there was something beneath it—something faintly personal. She was offering more than dinner.

Tanaka considered saying no. The words were already forming on his tongue out of habit.

It would feel rude to turn her down. And perhaps, even selfish.

He gave a small nod.

"I don't mind."

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The scene shifted to the estate's spacious balcony, softly illuminated by the silver sheen of moonlight. The sky stretched wide and clear above them, sprinkled with stars, and the cool breeze carried the scent of distant flowers from the garden below. A small table had been set for two—simple, elegant, and private.

Crusch sat across from him, her posture straight, composed as always, yet somehow more relaxed in the open air. A bottle of wine rested in an ice bucket beside her, two glasses set out.

"Would you like a drink?" she offered, her voice calm as she reached toward the bottle.

Tanaka gave an apologetic smile, gently raising a hand to decline.

"I don't drink."

Crusch arched a brow, mildly surprised. "Someone in your condition, still worrying about health?"

"I thought we weren't going to bring up what happened in the morning."

"Ah, yes. My apologies."

He shook his head, folding his hands neatly on his lap.

"It has nothing to do with health, it's just my mother told me not to drink it." He then added, "I will just stick to water."

Hoping to steer the conversation away from himself, he glanced up and added casually, "You've seemed especially busy lately. Barely seen you outside your office."

Crusch swirled the wine in her glass, the liquid catching the moonlight like garnet.

"My family is currently gathering both people and relics in response to a certain… occurrence. Tensions are rising beneath the surface." Her gaze drifted slightly, before settling back on him. "And since word of the royal selection has spread, proposals arrive every day."

Tanaka chuckled dryly, resting an elbow on the armrest and tilting his head slightly.

Crusch was a very beautiful woman, even compared to this world's standards where he encountered many attractive individuals, she easily stood among the top. 

Although, the other reason and the main one was probably because of her status, she already had a high ranking being born as a noble, but the fact that she was a contender to the throne made her a whole lot more desirable. 

Crusch raised an eyebrow at his bluntness, but there was amusement in her eyes.

"I'm sure the other candidates are experiencing the same."

Tanaka took another slow sip of his water, his posture straight and composed, movements minimal and refined.

Crusch's gaze lingered on him a moment longer.

"I noticed it before," she said thoughtfully, her voice carrying a quiet curiosity. "You have good etiquette."

It wasn't just the way he held his glass. It was the way he carried himself from the moment he sat down—the posture, the fluidity of his gestures, the calm attentiveness he displayed without forcing it. There was a refinement there, something ingrained.

Tanaka shrugged lightly.

"It's nothing special. Just something I read about once—how people are supposed to act at the table."

Crusch shook her head slightly.

"No… the way your movements follow through with such precision, that takes more than reading. It takes repetition."

She paused for a moment, her amber eyes narrowing slightly with interest.

"Even when you spoke in the castle, you carried yourself with a presence that was hard to ignore. Your words had clarity, weight. They weren't the ramblings of an unlearned man. There was wisdom... The kind that suggests education—and cultivation."

It was true. Even back then, despite the fury blazing in his voice and the scorn he didn't bother to hide, and she thought it was natural since she knew he was one of Emilia's people. But, there had been structure in his words. He had insulted a member of the Council of the Wise, the knights, and high-ranking officials. 

His rage hadn't clouded his mind. If anything, it made his arguments more potent, because behind every word was a truth that was difficult to refute.

Crusch leaned forward slightly, her expression thoughtful.

"It makes me wonder… were you born into a noble household?"

Tanaka met her gaze without flinching. His voice was calm, clear.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but like I said before… I'm just a commoner."

Crusch didn't blink. Her expression remained composed, "You're lying."

Tanaka's brow furrowed slightly, a trace of confusion tightening his features. He turned his head toward her with a faint frown.

"That's quite rude to assume that I'm lying. In the first place, what is it that I'm lying about."

Crusch's tone remained cool, but the undercurrent was unmistakable—measured and precise.

"Isn't it also rude to lie so plainly and act like it's nothing?" she said. "And for the record, it's not an assumption. I possess the Divine Protection of Wind Reading. It allows me to sense the unseen—emotions, intentions, disturbances in the air. The wind whispers truths others can't perceive. It tells me when someone is lying."

Tanaka's expression stiffened, the corners of his mouth twitching as he pulled back slightly. His fingers drummed once on the armrest before stilling.

"Is this supposed to be an interrogation now?" he muttered, irritation slipping into his tone. "I told you—I'm no noble."

Crusch didn't flinch. If anything, her voice turned more pointed.

"Then… are you royalty?"

The question struck harder than it should've. Tanaka froze, momentarily stunned by the bluntness of it. His thoughts scrambled for a brief second—then stilled.

He recalled her blessing, the ability to read the truth.

With quiet resolve, he met her gaze again and replied, his voice firmer now.

"I'm not."

Crusch's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Internally, she was taken aback.

"the wind of untruth still stirs around you."

Her words hung in the air like mist—soft, but inescapable. Neither accusation nor dismissal. Just a quiet statement.

Tanaka exhaled through his nose, a short, humorless puff. He leaned back in his chair and let a crooked smile rise to his lips.

"Hah. Okay, this is getting kind of funny." He looked off to the side for a moment, gaze drifting to the dark treetops beyond the balcony. "I don't like where this conversation's heading… but I'll admit—now I'm curious. How exactly does that Divine Protection of yours work?"

Crusch didn't answer right away, so he continued.

"I mean, what if someone believes a lie? What if someone was told a falsehood their whole life, and they never had a reason to doubt it? Would your wind still accuse them? Or maybe the person's just straight-up delusional. Could be me, you know. Maybe I'm just a lunatic pretending to be sane." He glanced at her, his smirk tightening. "How would you tell the difference then?"

Crusch folded her hands neatly in her lap, her posture poised but relaxed.

"I don't believe that's the case," she said gently. "You don't strike me as insane. In fact, you seem… too self-aware for that."

Tanaka let a brief silence fall between them before leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge.

"Alright then," he said. "Let me tell you a story."

He straightened up, placing his glass of water down with quiet care—his movements smooth, practiced, almost rehearsed.

"Once upon a time, there was a princess. She fell in love with a man who had no title, no name, no influence. Just a heart that matched hers. Their love grew, in defiance of everything around them—especially the crown."

His voice softened.

"The man wasn't from her kingdom. He was a foreigner and on top of that, a commoner. Naturally, the royal family disapproved. But the princess didn't care. She loved him. They had a child together. And for her defiance, she was stripped of her title, cast out of her house… but that didn't matter. Not to them. Because they had each other."

Tanaka paused. That last line wasn't fact. It was what he had always assumed—He never really knew. His family never spoke of it.

And maybe that uncertainty was what caused the wind to brand his response as a lie. 

"There were no records. No proof. Because visibility meant risk. Attention meant danger. To the world, neither the child nor the princess ever existed. But for that child…" He tapped his chest lightly, "his family was his world."

Tanaka's gaze grew distant for a second before refocusing on Crusch.

"My father never once spoke about her family. Not that he needed their influence—he worked hard and became one of the wealthiest men alive. I always assumed he hated them… for turning their backs on her.

He gave a small laugh—bitter and quiet.

"I felt the same way. Actually, no. I didn't even feel anything. I never cared about them. I still don't."

Tanaka caught her searching gaze and smiled, despite the shadow behind his eyes.

"Don't mind me," he said, tilting his head slightly, "I'm having fun seeing you trying to guess. After all, you think you have total control about the authenticity of the information that is being distributed, you know, thanks to that Divine Protection of yours."

He didn't need her to say anything, her silence was enough. After all, no lies were told. 

But even so, there was no way for her to know the individuals of the story. 

He shifted slightly in his seat and gestured subtly with his chin toward the garden.

"Let's continue," he said. "You see that maid with blue hair… Rem. She died."

Crusch's calm expression faltered. Her brow twitched slightly, a subtle crease forming between her eyes.

Tanaka noticed.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, tone bordering on amusement. "Is it because you didn't see any wind?"

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice low and deliberate now.

"Let's go further. Natsuki Subaru." The name rolled off his tongue with strange weight. "After what happened in the castle, I imagine you see him as some pathetic, powerless boy, right?"

He paused, letting the tension hang for a beat.

"He slaughtered thousands of civilians. Executed nobles and powerful figures such as Roswaal L. Mathers. Not even the Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea, could defeat him."

Crusch's expression darkened—she was speechless, his words contradicted reality but despite that, the wind didn't blow. 

Tanaka let the silence linger, then gave a faint chuckle and leaned back.

"Just kidding."

He waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing away the absurdity.

"What nonsense, right? Rem's alive and well. The Margrave is perfectly fine. And Subaru? He's never killed a single person in his life."

His smile faded slightly.

"Though I wouldn't call him pathetic. No, I believe he will take one of two paths: either he becomes a hero who saves countless lives, or a villain who ends them." He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting once more in a more somber smile. "But I like to believe in a third, less likely option—that he lives a quiet, normal life."

His eyes returned to Crusch, he stood up slamming the table with both hands, with scowl on his face, "So tell me, Crusch-San… do you still think I'm sane!?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

Felix stormed in, his ears twitching with agitation, eyes wide with anger. His tone was laced with both concern and fury.

Crusch raised a hand quickly.

"Ferris. Enough."

But Tanaka stood, shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of the conversation had finally caught up to him. He offered a small, apologetic bow toward Felix.

"No, he's right." His voice was quieter now. "I should know my place."

He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"I got carried away. Guess I let the mood get to me." He turned his gaze back to Crusch, his tone now more subdued. "I'm tired. I'll retire to my room."

He stepped away from the table and began walking toward the hallway, his steps slow and steady. But just before disappearing around the corner, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"And what we talked about here…" his eyes met Crusch's, calm but sharp, "don't share it with anyone. You'd be a lunatic to believe any of that nonsense."

Then he was gone, leaving only the soft echo of his steps fading into the corridor.

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The balcony stayed still for a few seconds after his departure. Felix looked to Crusch, tension still clinging to his posture.

"Crusch-Sama…" he asked hesitantly, his voice unusually subdued. "What did he tell you?"

Crusch's expression was thoughtful, her brows slightly furrowed as if she were still processing what had just occurred.

She couldn't explain how he had slipped past the reading of her Divine Protection in the end—how his presence had somehow dulled the currents of truth she could normally read so clearly. And yet, despite that... she believed the part about his family. There was something in his voice, something beneath the words. And more importantly—she had evidence.

She slowly turned to Felix, her voice low and steady

"What you told me this morning made me confirm it now."

Her thoughts drifted back to what Felix had whispered to her earlier that day.

"Tanaka's condition… it's the same as Fourier's."

Fourier Lugunica...

The Fourth Prince of Lugunica. Crusch's childhood friend. Felix's as well.

He had died a year ago—struck down by the same mysterious illness that had plagued the royal family. The same illness that had taken King Randohal Lugunica on the very same day.

And Tanaka has that same illness. 

The memory of seeing him in the castle came back with new clarity. His presence had nagged at her from the beginning—not just because of the way he spoke, or carried himself—but because something about him felt familiar. Not in a way she could name immediately.

He didn't have the traditional features of the royal bloodline. No golden hair. No crimson eyes.

And yet... there was something there. A resemblance, especially in the shape of his face. His mannerisms.

Crusch narrowed her eyes slightly, her thoughts racing.

"To think… such a story existed."

A royal princess, stripped of her title for defying her family. Falling in love with a foreign commoner—one who would later rise to become one of the wealthiest men in the world.

She had never heard the name Kazuki before but she didn't know every influential in this world. 

She had never heard a princess that was stripped from her title but since he said that their records had been erased and the fact he was about her age, it was hard to believe, but no impossible.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the weight the story as she recalled the fourth prince. 

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Quick Note: At some point in the story, I mentioned that his father was from Japan and his mother was from Iceland, I'm changing his mother's homeland to whatever country that has a Monarchy system, I might use a made up country to avoid headache. 

Anyway, besides this. I don't think there would be any other changes to the story.