Upon arriving at the mansion, Osvaldo turned off the engine. The silence that followed was almost as dense as the one they had left behind. The nuns were still stationed by the gate, their black habits fluttering in the night wind like crow's wings.
Osvaldo got out of the car, walked around the vehicle, and opened the back door. He took Miss Sienna in his arms with an almost reverential care. The girl's blonde head rested against his chest, limp.
(That… bothered me for a moment.)
Misaki surprised herself by clenching her fists. It wasn't jealousy. Not exactly. It was something deeper, something strange. The feeling that someone else was doing what she should be doing.
"Well, we better go inside, Misaki," Osvaldo said, his voice quiet.
"Yes... we better."
The nuns' gazes followed them as they crossed the front garden. They were obvious, heavy, like invisible fingers brushing against the nape of their necks. Misaki walked one step behind Osvaldo, her fists still clenched beneath her skirt.
They reached the front door.
Krrr-klick.
The lock mechanism echoed in the empty foyer. The door opened with a groan of old wood.
They walked forward. The marble floor reflected their silhouettes like a fogged mirror. The stained glass windows, dim at that hour, barely let the moonlight through.
A slight tension floated in the air. It wasn't fear. It was something more subtle, like the calm that precedes a long-postponed argument.
(It's been a long time since I felt something like this...)
As they approached the stairs, Osvaldo stopped.
"Excuse me, Miss Misaki. I will take Miss Sienna to her room."
Misaki noticed something strange. Osvaldo wasn't looking straight ahead. His eyes were fixed on a vague point on the wall, as if he were avoiding something.
"Alright," she replied. "I will take care of informing the master."
Osvaldo smiled. A tired, grateful smile.
"Thank you very much, miss."
Then she watched him go up the stairs, with Sienna in his arms, disappearing step by step into the gloom of the upper floor.
Misaki smoothed her skirt with both hands. A nervous, almost ritualistic gesture. And she prepared to walk toward the kitchen.
"Pardon the intrusion..."
Upon looking up, the scene she found was almost domestic. Almost.
Madam Camila was sitting at the table, with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of her. Her hair, normally impeccable, fell in messy strands over her shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot, though not necessarily from crying.
And in the background, by the stove, Grandmother Hanako was cooking something. Her black kimono, spotless as always, contrasted with the steam rising from the pots and the aroma of spices filling the air.
Hanako turned briefly toward Misaki before going back to her task.
"Don't worry, dear," she said, with that sweet voice that was more dangerous than any scream. "She just needs to gather her thoughts..."
"I understand." Misaki nodded slightly. "I assume the women outside are your doing?"
While adding some spices to the pot, Hanako spoke softly:
"That is correct."
"Why did you do it?" Misaki's voice rose a little, her hand tightening against her skirt. "Are you trying to draw more attention? Do you not consider the state of your g—?"
"Don't say it!"
Hanako's shout was so loud, so sudden, that Misaki jumped. But she didn't step back.
"Miss Sienna is hurt..." she continued, her eyes fixed on the old woman. "Can't you show a little consideration?"
Hanako didn't turn around. She remained attentively on her task, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon.
"An injury? What kind?"
Misaki looked down at the floor. She didn't want to visualize it. She didn't want to remember the dried blood on Sienna's lip, her slumped body, the coldness of her fingers.
"Apparently... she got into a fight."
SLAM!
The wooden spoon hit the counter with a crash that made Misaki flinch.
"Misaki... Are you telling me she got into a fight the moment she returned?"
Hanako turned around. Her eyes were bloodshot with fury. The mask of sweetness had cracked, revealing something much darker underneath.
"Yes..." Misaki replied, her head bowed. "There's no way to defend it..."
"Tell me one thing, Misaki."
"Yes, ma'am...?"
"Her wound... has it healed?"
Hanako had cast everything aside. The pot kept boiling in the background, but her attention was completely focused on Misaki's face.
"No..." Misaki clenched her fist. "Her wound... it seems it still hasn't... healed..."
Hanako softly lowered her gaze. For an instant, she seemed older. More fragile. Then, she went back to what she was doing.
"I suppose... I expected too much."
"Could you shut up...?" Camila muttered from the table, her voice thick with alcohol.
"Tch... Stupid daughter-in-law..."
"Sh... ut up... Leviathan..." Camila mumbled, still half in the world of dreams.
Misaki lowered her gaze for a moment. The tension between the two women was palpable, like a string about to snap. But she quickly raised her head again.
"I'll look for a blanket..."
"Wait a moment."
Hanako approached her with a small snack in her hands: bread, cheese, fruits.
"She received her compatibility test, didn't she?"
Misaki stared at her, her eyes wide open.
"How do you know that today—?"
"Stupid daughter-in-law," Hanako called out, turning toward Camila. "Explain it to her."
"Ahhh, damn it... I'm going to bed..."
Camila stood up, almost stumbling. The whiskey bottle wobbled dangerously before she pushed it aside with a clumsy gesture. She went down the hallway, tripping every few steps, leaning on the walls as if the world were tilting beneath her feet.
Misaki watched her walk away before turning back to Hanako.
"Did the White Bands attend to her?"
Misaki averted her eyes.
"It was... the Blue Bands."
The silence that followed was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The air in the kitchen grew heavy, loaded with a meaning Misaki couldn't entirely comprehend.
Meanwhile, Osvaldo was walking down the stairs without Sienna in his arms.
Upon reaching the landing, he ran into Camila, who was staggering down the hallway, leaning against the wall with every step.
"Miss Camila... Do you need help?"
Camila looked up. It took her a second to focus. When she recognized Osvaldo, a sad smile formed on her lips.
"Haha... Don't worry, Osvaldo... Go back home..."
Osvaldo looked at the lady and nodded.
"Understood. Please, be careful."
"Wait, Osvaldo..." Camila stopped, resting a hand on the wall to keep from falling. "Where are you coming from?"
Osvaldo hesitated for a moment.
"From Miss Sienna's room..."
"Oh... I see..."
Camila looked down. Then, with a vague wave of her hand, she muttered:
"Well... you're fired."
"Okay, madam..."
Osvaldo bowed and left. His footsteps echoed down the stairs until they faded away.
Camila walked a little further down the hallway, dragging her feet, and leaned against the wall in front of Sienna's door.
"My little girl..." she murmured, her voice breaking. "She's grown up now... Time passes... so fast..."
She pushed herself up with effort and slowly approached the door. Her hand trembled on the doorknob.
Mado...
She slowly opened the door. The hinges barely creaked. The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
Sienna lay on the bed, motionless, her blonde hair spread across the pillow like a pale halo.
"T... to think it's so little..." Camila lay down next to her, carefully, as if afraid of breaking her.
She teared up a little.
"Forgive me..." she whispered. "For not..."
A sob cut her voice short.
"...making you normal..."
The tears fell on the pillow, on Sienna's hair, on her own trembling hands.
She hugged her.
"Please... stay with us... always..."
Her voice broke into a silent, contained weeping, like a small, anonymous confession...
Two hours later
"Good evening, family!"
Hiroshi happily entered the kitchen. His voice echoed against the walls, too loud, too cheerful for the prevailing atmosphere.
"Welcome, sir..." Misaki said, bowing her head.
"It's good that you've arrived, son," Hanako added, without taking her eyes off her pots.
Both stared intently at Hiroshi until he sat down at the table.
"Mom, excuse me... but is it necessary for your employees to be outside?"
"Hahaha, that's true. I had forgotten they were there."
Hanako's laugh was warm and seemed honest. Too honest. That was why it was so difficult to see right through her.
"Hiroshi..." Hanako's voice was barely a whisper. "We need to discuss something important for you..."
She tugged slightly at the master's shirt.
"Miss Sienna..."
With a knot in her heart, she said it:
"She is still incompatible..."
"She... is still incompatible?"
Hiroshi stared at his hands. He turned them over, as if looking for something written on his palms.
"Does anyone else know about this, Misaki?"
Misaki swallowed hard.
"O-only the Blue Bands..."
"Blue, huh...?"
Hiroshi rested his hands on his face. The weight of his elbows on the table made the wood creak.
"Hiroshi..." Hanako set the spoon aside. "I am afraid to say this... but wouldn't it be ideal to bring in one who is...?"
"Shut up."
Hiroshi looked at his mother with indifference, though one of his hands still covered half of his face.
"Misaki... How bad was the rejection?"
"It wasn't that bad..."
Both of them stared at her.
"It wasn't that bad?" Hiroshi repeated. "Did she not go crazy? Or vomit blood?"
"No, sir... She bled from her nose and went to sleep from exhaustion... but she didn't lose her mind at any point."
"I see..." Hanako began.
BAM!
Hiroshi slammed his fist hard on the table. The cutlery jumped. Camila's whiskey bottle, still half-empty, wobbled dangerously.
"Mother, this is progress... so shut up!"
(The master... actually said that!)
Hanako took a step back, but she did not retract her words.
"I love my granddaughter, Hiroshi. Why make her suffer—?"
"That's enough!"
Hiroshi stood up angrily and flipped the table. The plates, the cutlery, the snack Hanako had prepared went flying through the air. The crash echoed throughout the kitchen.
"No matter what it is, progress is progress. And you should be happy, Mom!"
Both remained in silence. The steam from the pots kept rising, indifferent.
"S-son..." Hanako's voice was softer now. "You know I want what's best for her... but maybe it would be better to..."
Hiroshi approached her. The contrast in size was palpable. Hiroshi was tall, heavily built. Hanako, petite beneath her black kimono, barely reached his chest.
"I will not bring a stranger into my house to replace my daughter."
Hanako didn't back down. And then, as if they had been waiting for that signal, some nuns entered through the kitchen door. Their black habits brushed the floor. Their faces remained hidden.
"Listen, Hiroshi..." Hanako walked slowly toward the nuns. "I will let this go for today..."
She stopped at the threshold and turned back one last time.
"But they are your children too."
And she left. The nuns followed her, closing the door behind them with a soft but definitive click.
After that, Hiroshi and Misaki were left alone in the kitchen. The mess of the flipped table, the broken plates, the snack scattered on the floor.
"Sir..." Misaki fidgeted with her own hands, confused, nervous. "Could I ask you a question?"
"Ask it, Misaki... You are family too."
Hiroshi smiled as if the previous event hadn't happened. As if the table weren't on the floor.
"Is there any way to avoid the punishment?"
Hiroshi looked away slightly. His eyes rested on the window, where the moon shone cold and distant.
"There is one... but... I don't think it's possible."
"I see..."
Misaki lowered her gaze. The knot in her heart didn't untie.
Hiroshi placed his hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Don't worry about it. We will think about it tomorrow, alright?"
Misaki looked up. Hiroshi's eyes gleamed under the dim light of the kitchen. It wasn't joy. It was determination.
"Yes... alright, sir."
She smiled in response. A small, but real smile.
Time passed slowly. Hiroshi went up the stairs, his thoughts still in turmoil.
(I know she doesn't say it with malice... but...)
Upon reaching the landing, he found Sienna's door slightly open. A sliver of moonlight escaped through it.
He went in.
And he saw the two of them curled up together: Camila and Sienna. The mother was hugging her daughter with an almost desperate strength, even in her sleep. Their faces were relaxed, free from the tension of waking hours.
"It's been... how many years since I last saw this?"
Hiroshi sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress sank slightly under his weight. He watched Sienna breathe, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her blonde hair tangled on the pillow.
(Please... don't leave again.)
He didn't say it out loud. But his fingers intertwined with Sienna's under the sheets.
And so, in the gloom of the room, he watched over her sleep.