The thin twilight of the setting sun draped the earth in a cicada-wing sheen.
Sakura looked toward the distant Ryōgi family bamboo grove, gilded molten-red in the dusk, and slowly slipped her phone back into her bag.
Satsuki was alright.
That, at least, was a relief.
Sakura pressed a hand lightly to her chest, steadying her breath where it had gone a little too ragged.
She had run the whole way from school—the soft swell beneath her uniform rose and fell with each gasp, drawing curves no fifteen-year-old should have to know about.
After a moment to settle herself, watching the sun sink lower, she turned to start home.
She did want to drop in on Shiki—she really did—but it was the start of the month, and Shiki would be in the dōjō running through her sword forms.
By this hour she’d probably be bathing and changing after practice.
Sakura walked, head bowed in thought.
Satsuki’s voice on the phone had been strange.
Hoarse to the point of being rough.
Satsuki had said she was thirsty.
But what kind of thirst could rasp a voice down that low?
That tearing edge in her tone—it made Sakura wonder, uneasily, whether something had happened to her friend.
Instinct said this wasn’t simple.
What Satsuki had run into, Sakura was sure, was no garden-variety thug thinking with the wrong half of his body.
That suppressed pitch.
That invasive, magnetic resonance, almost a charm in its own right.
Satsuki had been holding herself back from something.
Sakura’s hands curled tight at her sides.
“Young Miss!
Young Miss!”
The breathless call came from behind her.
Sakura turned.
The Asagami family’s maid was hurrying up the path from the direction of the Ryōgi house, one hand resting lightly on the other at her waist as she ran—small, precise steps, almost demure, but the long legs sheathed in matte black were covering ground at speed.
The maid drew up in front of Sakura, breathing through small, measured pants.
“I’m sorry!
I was thinking and didn’t hear you,” Sakura said, head ducking guiltily.
“Yo—Young Miss, you mustn’t apologize to me.” The maid steadied her breath.
She owed the Asagami family too much; a lifetime of service would not pay the debt back.
Sakura didn’t press the apology.
Pressing it would only make Shigure unhappy.
“Ah—if Shigure is here, then…” She lifted her head.
“My lady is at the Ryōgi house at the moment,” the maid said, bowing slightly.
“Did the Young Miss wish to call on Lady Ryōgi?”
“Mn,” Sakura said, ducking her head with a small, cute shrug.
“Never mind.
I’ll just go home.
I’ve been running so long, I’m sweaty—I’d like a bath first.”
At Sakura’s words, a small bright spark passed through the maid’s indigo eyes.
She bowed.
The car is just over there.” Her hand lifted, fingers neat and straight, pointing toward the Ryōgi bamboo grove.
“No, no,” Sakura refused.
“Just stay here and wait for onee-san.
Onee-san isn’t well.”
She lifted her right arm in a playful little flex, showing off a phantom bicep.
“It’s not far.
Something like this is nothing for me.”
The maid looked at her, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
The young miss really was very cute.
“Please be careful on the way home.”
“Mn!” Sakura nodded vigorously and waved as she set off.
Once Sakura was out of sight, the maid turned and walked back toward where the car was parked.
In her field of vision, an elegant figure in a purple kimono had already moved to stand beside it, one hand reaching up to mischievously tease one of the Ryōgi family’s bamboo stalks.
The sleeve fell back to reveal a sliver of pale, white-jade wrist.
Long deep-purple hair was caught up in a simple knot, stirring slightly in the breeze.
“Shigure?” Asagami Fujino turned, looking at the maid, whose cheeks were faintly flushed from running.
“The Young Miss came by just now,” the maid said, head bowed in explanation.
“Sakura was here, was she.” Fujino lowered the bamboo leaf in her hand.
After what had happened, it was no surprise that Sakura would come looking for Ryōgi Shiki.
“Why didn’t you see her home?” Fujino asked next.
“The Young Miss was concerned for your health.
She told me to stay and wait for you.” The maid’s mouth lifted in a faint smile, unable to keep the warmth from her face when looking at her lady.
Anything to do with the young miss was the surest way to make her lady happy.
“Next time, see Sakura home first.
I—I can wait a little longer.” Fujino’s voice lifted slightly at the edges.
“Yes, my lady.” The maid answered and opened the car door.
Her lady always said that, but the way her face softened whenever the young miss showed her even the smallest care was something anyone with eyes could see.
“Let’s go.
I want to get back quickly,” Fujino urged.
She could hardly wait to get home and hold her sweet little sister.
“I would suggest, my lady, that we take a small detour through town first.” The maid’s lips curved.
“At this hour we can pick up the freshest taiyaki at Edomae-ya.”
Fujino’s brow knit faintly.
Sakura did love the sweets and sake from Edomae-ya, but Shigure didn’t usually volunteer suggestions like that.
“Shigure?”
“The Young Miss said she wanted a bath first.” The maid’s indigo eyes narrowed.
“At her walking pace, by the time you’ve picked up an order of taiyaki and we’ve driven home, the timing will be just right.”
“And I’d guess… my lady would like a bath too.”
Clap.
Fujino brought her hands together.
“Yes.
Exactly that.”
The maid started the engine and turned the car back toward town. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
***
Alone on the small stool inside the bathroom, Sakura was towelling her ink-black hair dry.
Her skin was pale; a brief brush of steam was enough to draw a delicate, wine-warm flush up from beneath.
Tender white skin and softly rounded curves swam in and out of the mist, until at last there was only the rush of water.
She was still thinking about Satsuki.
Click—
The bathroom door opened.
“Did you need something?” Sakura asked.
She thought it must be onee-san returning, the maid coming to let her know.
But what she saw, against expectation, was a pair of crimson eyes and the pretty face Sakura knew best in the world.
“O—onee-san!?”
Sakura covered her chest with a small, embarrassed motion, a sweep of red rising from her throat to her cheeks.
The skin around her eyes flushed pink; the tips of her ears turned hot crimson.
“I’ll be done in just a minute.
Please wait a little,” Sakura said, head bowed, flustered.
The girl who was slowly growing up was no longer the little thing she could just sweep up and kiss and toss in the air.
Fujino felt a small, plain pang of loss.
“It’s fine,” she said in her even, demure voice.
She moved closer.
Sakura tried to stand—and saw that delicate body slip on the wet tile, almost going down.
She rushed to catch her.
But the moment her arm closed around the smooth curve of a shoulder, Sakura looked up and met a pair of mischief-bright eyes already smiling at her.
“Onee-san!” the girl pouted.
“And here I thought it was Sakura who’s been avoiding onee-san lately.”
“I’m not little anymore,” Sakura said, head lowered as she sat on the small stool.
Fujino settled herself behind her with the practiced ease of long habit and began working through her hair.
“Mn-mn.
Sakura’s all grown up~” Fujino agreed, the corner of her mouth lifting in a soft, slender smile.
Catching the meaning beneath the words, Sakura felt the blush surge back up her face, deeper and more becoming than before.
The two of them slipped into idle conversation, taking quiet pleasure in being held against each other.
Then—Sakura mentioned that Satsuki had called her that afternoon.
Fujino went still.
“What is it?” Sakura asked, eyes shut against the shampoo.
“Worried it’ll get in my eyes?”
“Nothing.
The towel slipped.”
Fujino’s fine, sharp eyes narrowed.
Last night, she had distinctly caught the scent of blood.
And inside Yumizuka Satsuki’s apartment, there had been no sign of anyone living.
Then—
Who had called Sakura?
Or rather—what?
(Sakura)