Archive of Our Own

Seidou had not changed much in the time since Chris left it. The southern wall still crawled with beautifully blooming morning glories, freshly watered so the sunlight sparkled off their petals, and the compound itself was the same as ever. Based off an antiquated architecture model, there were four main buildings each with their own specific functions spread across a generous plot of land. Covered walkways connected them, and interspersed throughout were numerous themed courtyards and gardens: carp, pine, willow, zen, and more.

The centerpiece was the southern hall where guests were received. On some nights a stage was erected for special musical or dance performances, but typically in the evenings any courtesan who did not have an arrangement made in advance loitered there hoping to catch the eye of someone walking through the door. There was light entertainment offered, the atmosphere open and relaxed to allow for pleasant conversation, and the more penny-pinched customers never went further than that.

A dedicated spender would be shown to the western pavilion where they could enjoy more attentive service. There were large rooms for parties and private rooms to be used however one wished. The western pavilion had its own attached bath house for the guests' use, and they could stay the night but were encouraged to leave in the morning.

During the day Seidou was quiet, its occupants enjoying their own time in the eastern pavilion that housed their personal rooms. Most rooms were shared, but the highest ranking courtesans had the privilege of total privacy. There was a bath house on the east side too, in addition to the kitchen and communal dining area.

The northern pavilion was the administrative building which contained the offices and personal quarters of the senior staff, and it was here where Chris met with Rei for the first time in almost two years. Her office was Esteren in design, closed in by tall, sturdy bookcases with a square mahogany desk at the back, solid and permanent. It wasn't strange for a retired courtesan to stay in the business like she did, although most maintained ties with their house. For reasons unknown Rei had left her old house in the capital city of Kigiku and come to Asagao to manage Seidou instead. Rumor and speculation were almost as good as currency in any pleasure district, but people here knew better than to outright ask.

Chris met her as an equal, a fellow retiree, or in this case he might be more like an estranged family member. He had thought—had intended—to be one of those retired courtesans who stayed in touch, but somewhere along the way he'd forgotten.

…No. Not forgotten. His ties to Seidou had been unceremoniously dropped along with so many other things, and left as a mess on the floor that he'd made a habit to walk around but never bothered to clean up. Careless of him, really. But this, at least, he could still salvage.

"Thank you again for agreeing to this," Rei said, pouring him a cup of tea with the ingrained grace they all learned. Some habits never went away, but the smile that had been sitting on her lips since his arrival was soft with warmth, not merely a donned politeness. "I understand that you're busy with your studies—at Asagao Medical School I believe?"

Chris inclined his head and accepted the tea, wrapping his fingers around the cool ceramic. The day was already sweltering and it was still early yet. No one—whether they were diviners of the old tradition or modernized academics—seemed to know when the dry spell would break. "That's right," he said. "I've just about completed my second year of preparatory work and will begin the regular courses next spring. Your request came at the right time."

"The medical track isn't known to be easy, and I've heard that many people take three years to complete the prep. Impressive as always, Chris-kun."

"I've just been very focused." Tragically so, Kazuya kept telling him, joking that Chris would work himself into an early grave. Maybe half joking. And when Kazuya expressed concern, things were dire indeed. Chris sipped his tea and let Seidou's familiar atmosphere settle over him, testing the feel of it like putting on a suit he hadn't worn in years. As expected, it was tight in places—around the collar and across the chest, throbbing over that fist-sized spot left of center that no medical text could truly tell him how to fix.

…Even he recognized how maudlin he'd become. Kazuya may have had a point. It was a good thing he wasn't a courtesan anymore, he was rather poor company these days.

He could still teach, though. There was probably no one else in the business with his amount of experience. His official career may have been short, but his mother had been one of Kinren's finest, and continued to be such even after he'd been born. Chris had grown up in this district, surrounded by the courtesan way of life. He'd been neglectful of his roots lately, but he could remedy that now when Seidou needed him. He could still be of use.

"Tell me about the new apprentices. I heard a bit from Kazuya, but…"

Rei chuckled behind her hand. "I imagine he wasn't very helpful."

"He was very… obfuscating." Gleefully so. Chris had realized, then, that it had been a while since he'd last seen that spark of excitement in Kazuya's eyes. That at some point over the past several months, while Chris was buried deep in his academics, Kazuya had fallen back into old habits no one else would have recognized. And on the heels of that painful realization came the sobering truth that even if Chris had noticed earlier there was little he could have done about it. Kazuya would have only called him a hypocrite if he'd tried.

"Well," said Rei, drawing Chris back into the present, "first there's Kominato-kun, Ryousuke-kun's younger brother. They're very much cut from the same cloth, so I have little to worry about there. I did wonder at first how Ryousuke-kun would handle it, but he seems to have taken charge of his brother's training on his own. I expect you'll only need to help out when Ryousuke-kun is busy. Kominato-kun thus far has displayed sufficient aptitude in all areas of both his general education and skills training. He's overly self-conscious at times, but he's dedicated."

Chris easily recalled the cold, wintry day when Rei showed up with Ryousuke in tow. He'd been a pint-sized thing, newly uprooted from the wilder parts of the countryside and hardier than he first appeared. Prickly, too, until Seidou's constant, calm flow smoothed his rough edges. He'd taken to the training without any complaint, and had been more than ready to debut by the time of his 15th birthday. If the younger brother was his match in talent and dedication they would make for quite a winning pair.

"And then there's Sawamura-kun, whom you'll be in charge of."

Rei paused, and Chris would admit he was curious. Kazuya wasn't easy to impress, and all he'd told Chris while grinning wide and impish was, "He's something else. I'm looking forward to it."

"…Sawamura-kun has a certain potential that's difficult to gauge at this time," Rei continued with political aplomb. Then, adjusting her glasses, her gaze became sharper, more straightforward, and she explained, "To be blunt, at present he's very raw material. Malleable in some ways, but difficult in others. It's my belief that he could become very uniquely specialized with the right kind of guidance, and that we should first focus on strengthening his basic education and skill set. I can think of no better person for the job than you."

Chris nodded his head. If Sawamura was that kind of diamond in the rough he could very well understand Kazuya's interest. "I see. Yes, that does sound promising. I'm glad to be of help in any way I can."

Chris had overlooked one thing: Kazuya's amusement often came at the detriment of those around him. What Kazuya found fun and entertaining, any sane bystander would find trying at best, or downright unbearable at worst.

It was his own fault, he reasoned, for not remembering that sooner. But it was hard to reason with himself as he simultaneously attempted to reason with Sawamura, who was sitting on the floor in front of a writing desk with more ink on his hands and face than was scrawled on the sheets of paper. (How had he even managed to get so much of it on his face? They were using a fountain pen instead of a traditional brush—and thank God for that.)

"This is just a waste of time!"

"You're the one who's wasting it," Chris said, riffling through the pages to find a mostly clean sheet and setting it on top. "Copy the next set."

Sawamura glared mutinously at the row of characters Chris had written out, then at the pen rolling on the desk. He clenched his fists in his lap. "I don't get why I have to bother with this in the first place."

Chris was not about to take Sawamura's hand and wrap it around the pen as if he was a child, although he was certainly acting like one. "These are the basics of the basics. You can't expect to become a courtesan—or amount to any decent position in society—without learning to read and write. Your reading is barely at a middle school level. Your writing is near illegible. The only way to improve is to practice. Or will you give up and return home now? Your debt to the house will only increase the longer you insist on being stubborn."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Sawamura turned his angry sulk on Chris, for all the good that it did. With flushed cheeks and snapping, thin-pupiled eyes, the energy and emotion radiating off him was an impressive sight, but none of it penetrated. He could flail and puff all the hot air he wanted, but he had no hope of moving a boulder with just that. "I'm never gonna be any good at this stuff though, so why bother? Shouldn't I be focusing on what I can do? That's what I mean by wasting time!"

Chris shook his head. It had been Rei's mistake to tell Sawamura about her long-term goals for him. Now he could only see the end and was fighting all of their efforts to start from the beginning. He wasn't going to accomplish anything without a firm foundation. "You're right," Chris said. "This is indeed a waste of time. At this rate you'll never debut no matter how long you extend your contract. But that's none of my concern. My job is to teach you regardless of how you choose to throw away your life, so if you won't be sensible and quit I suppose we'll have to suffer together. Copy the next set."

The entire morning progressed like an uphill battle. Sawamura complained and fought the whole way, but he managed to do everything he was told. Doing just the bare minimum wasn't worth commendation, though. Afternoon lessons were an equally grueling experience, and in the end Chris couldn't say whether Sawamura's perseverance had any merit at all, for either of them. The whole endeavor might be nothing more than an exercise in mutual torture.

Chris was about to call an end to the day's work while plenty of light remained to burn before sunset when Ryousuke poked his head in. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, we've just finished."

Sawamura threw his hands into the air with a whoop of joy, scattering papers.

Before Chris could say a word Ryousuke clicked his tongue. "Clean that up, and then come with—on second thought, fix your mess here first, then clean yourself up, and afterwards come to my room. Do it quickly." He turned to the shadow peering over his shoulder. "Haruichi, you go with him and make sure he doesn't dawdle."

"I can wash by myself!"

Ryousuke cut short any further squawks of protest with a look and a soft comment: "I don't see you moving."

Like magic, Sawamura scrambled to obey.

When he was out the door and practically running down the hall with Kominato on his heels, Ryousuke's threatening smile relaxed into something more pleasant. By his standards, anyway. "I must say, Chris, I don't envy you."

Chris straightened the papers that Sawamura had hastily piled together. "You seem to be able to handle him well enough."

"Only in small doses. Anything longer term would require an alibi."

Something caught in his throat, a bubble of a reply that couldn't make it past his clogged filters. Not even Seidou's light, easy air could clear those out. His training informed him that a smile would be appropriate, that he should rise to the joke, but then the trapped bubble squeezed down to nothing. Instead Chris asked, loaded with the baggage of business, "What do you plan on teaching him? I intend to ask everyone so I can get a better idea of how to structure his training schedule."

Ryousuke tilted his head. "At this stage, I imagine getting him to sit still would be an accomplishment. So I'll start with posture—which should help for whenever he starts his dance lessons, though he doesn't need to know that." Chris nodded in agreement, jotting down 'Ryousuke – posture, balance, pre-body training for dance' in his notebook. "Eventually, of course, if he's going to amount to anything he'll need to grow accustomed to wearing all manner of costumes. Both traditional and foreign styles should suit him. He has a slim build and a young face, so I'll probably include him in some of my lessons with Haruichi."

Chris added long-term goals: 'clothing/costumes (variety), hair and makeup, crossdressing.' Looking at the page Sawamura's potential did make itself known, but reality was another matter entirely.

"I admit," Ryousuke said as if reading his mind, "I have my doubts about how he'll fare. But it's early yet, so we'll have to wait and see."

"Yes. Thank you for your time and assistance."

Ryousuke waved a hand. "You're the one with the toughest job. But it's good to have you back, whatever the reason may be. I better be going now. I'll let you know tomorrow if I manage to get any kind of lesson through Sawamura's thick head."

"Good luck," Chris said, and was slightly surprised that he'd managed to voice the sentiment, however dry.

"Thank you. I'll certainly need it."

Chris had planned to head home once training was over to resume his studies. He'd taken on this job for Seidou with the intent to balance it with his coursework, turning down Rei's offer to house him in the compound for that reason. But, as the day burned down to its last embers, he found that he was in no hurry to return to his textbooks and bury himself in academic oblivion.

Here there was a different kind of fog to lose himself in, and just like a ghost, he couldn't bring himself to part with what had once been his home, the anchor of his earthly ties. Dusk spilled its colorful palette across the sky, and the bustle of activity in the household swam and blended with his memories. There was a constant shuffle of feet along wooden floorboards as courtesans hurried between the bath house and their rooms, readying themselves to serve and entertain, preparing their appearances as well as their mindsets. Soon the lanterns outside would be lit to signal the opening of the house for business.

Life as a courtesan was always temporary, five to ten years on average before one's expiration ran out, and most managed to retire safely before then. Chris had had a short career, but a fulfilling one. He'd retired just as he turned 19. He was nearing 21 now. Theoretically, he still had his whole life ahead of him. Theoretically, that was what medical school was for.

But that hadn't been why he retired early.

He'd entertained a lot of regrets over the past several months when he wasn't doing his best to cram biology and chemistry and anatomy into every nook and cranny of his brain. But he hadn't thought about Seidou until coming here again. Somehow, his memory of Seidou had remained untouched. A completely different part of his life, or a different life entirely.

It all came rushing back now, and Chris added a new regret to his hoard. If only I hadn't left. Which was a silly thought, like he knew all of these grievances were in fact pointless, but that didn't change the fact that he had a pile of them cluttered at his feet and they weren't going anywhere. It didn't matter if one day he'd also regret returning to Seidou like this. What was one more among this many?

"Oh? I didn't expect you to still be here."

Without waiting for an invitation Kazuya joined him, legs swinging to dangle over the ledge of the veranda. He was suited up in the latest Esteren fashion without any concession to the heat, single-breasted jacket buttoned over a white collared shirt and waistcoat, tie knotted at his throat. A wood-and-spice scent that couldn't have been to his own taste drifted off of him. The loose slope of his posture was categorically casual, and his amiable expression gave away little except the usual ease through which he coasted through life. Kazuya of Seidou was a quick smile and a quicker wit, ready for an evening's work. He wasn't too terribly different from just plain Kazuya, perhaps a touch more subdued. There was no bite in the flash of his teeth.

"I heard you had a rough day of it. I have time for a drink if you'd like to unload a little."

"That's a generous offer coming from one of Seidou's top earners."

"Please," Kazuya drawled, leaning back on his hands, and some of his public persona slipped. "As if you don't still hold the record."

"Not for much longer I imagine."

The shadows of the courtyard grew, swallowing up the empty spaces, and Kazuya stared into them for a while before closing his eyes. "Well, who knows?"

He never did have much personal ambition, for all that he took well to a challenge. As if the future itself wasn't reliable enough to bet on, so he chased nothing, and lived solely in the present instead. He could get stuck in it sometimes, the way Chris got stuck in the past. The two of them were a real pair.

"So how about that drink?"

"I'll pass, thank you. Are you going out tonight?"

"Staying in. Masatoshi-san isn't the wild party type, and… well. You know Harada Coal Mining Corporation?"

Chris hesitated. Gossip and secrets, two contradicting fields a courtesan must know how to navigate well. That was a difficult enough labyrinth, but above all, one mustn't pry into the private affairs of another courtesan. If Kazuya was bringing it up himself, though… "Of course," Chris said. "It's one of the subsidiaries under the Inashiro Group."

One of many consolidated subsidiaries, which included Narumiya Bank, Shirakawa Chemical Industries, Kamiya Trading LLC… and Miyuki Steel Company.

A flint-striking grin lit up briefly in the encroaching darkness. "Yeah. Old family acquaintance. Masatoshi-san's all right, he knows how to be discreet, but better to be safe than sorry."

"I agree."

"Ah, I really want a smoke."

"Terrible habit," Chris said out of reflex.

"Yeah, but." Kazuya shrugged, and that was all that needed to be said. He didn't get stuck in his past, but occasionally it would follow him around like a cloud. A cloud that was never thunderous or threatening, but it made things go a little gray, and eventually it would dissipate in the sunlight or at the touch of a breeze.

The way he was now, Chris didn't think he had the right to wave that cloud away.

After a brief, settling silence, Kazuya glanced out of the corner of his eye. "So tell me, how's teaching again after all this time?"

Chris grimaced. "I don't believe anything was actually taught today."

"Ha! He was that bad?"

"Have you worked with him at all?"

"Nope, not since Rei-chan decided to hold off on the dance lessons. Seems like I dodged a bullet."

Indeed, Chris thought. Outwardly he sighed. "It's not that I don't see his potential, but it's such a distant goal that for now all we can do is try and stop him from sabotaging himself. He may not ever get past this first hurdle. Honestly, if it was my decision to make I don't believe this is worth the time, effort, and cost."

"Harsh," Kazuya said with a crooked grin. "I won't disagree about the difficulties, but those are what make him interesting, don't you think? He might just succeed… or he might fail miserably. The odds are stacked against him. Makes for pretty good entertainment either way."

This would be one of the reasons why everyone said Kazuya had a twisted personality. Chris had known this, and yet he still shook his head in amazement. "I can't say the same. You were the one who found him, shouldn't you be more invested in whether he succeeds?"

"Of course I prefer happy endings, but facts are facts. He doesn't have a lot going for him. Besides, it's not like people haven't failed before."

A frown pushed its way onto Chris' face, and prickling unease threaded through the apathetic haze surrounding him, sinking tiny hooks into his skin. He didn't brush them off right away. "I highly doubt Sawamura can afford to pay back the debt he'll accumulate before long. He could waste his life on this. It's no small failure—you may not have seen it happen to anyone yet, but if the money isn't paid the government will send a collector and then it's out of Seidou's hands. That's why I'm saying the risk is too great."

Such an occurrence was rare; the houses of Yugao were lenient wherever they could be, taking pride in how they ran their businesses compared to the infamous conditions of other pleasure districts. Many of the household heads and founders here had experienced such environments first-hand long ago. It wasn't until after Asagao began to expand and flourish, when education and modern schools of thought became more accessible and encouraged, that an opportunity arose to create a system that would reflect a new set of values. The result was Yugao, and so long as the profits were high, people were happy, and taxes were paid, the courtesan houses could do as they pleased.

But holes in the bookkeeping from years of unpaid debt wouldn't go unnoticed. Covering them up only made the situation worse for everyone. At that point, Yugao's rules and protections didn't apply anymore.

That was why it would be best for Sawamura to quit now while the cost wasn't so dire.

"Hmmm." The long, rising note tickled a warning instinct awake in Chris, which went on full alert as the curve of Kazuya's mouth snuck upwards. "Well, it's good to see you're concerned about him. I won't have to worry about the two of you now. Look at that, the day wasn't a waste after all."

Chris stared. Kazuya paid him no mind and got to his feet, stretching with an indolent roll of his shoulders and straightening the lines of his clothes, all while wearing the self-satisfied smirk that crowned his most devious achievements.

Still staring, Chris wondered, "Did you just…?"

"Sorry!" Kazuya grinned and winked one of his eyes. "I have an appointment coming up. I'll see you later, Chris-senpai."

Off he sauntered, as freely as he had arrived, brimming with cheerful insouciance from the spring in his step up to the tilt of his head. Just like the day they'd first met, yet he'd grown so much older in the handful of years that had passed. Chris had been around to witness the process, had noted the taller height, the broader shoulders, the maturing angles of his face and the subtler cleverness veiled behind his eyes. But still bold as ever, and yes, a little too clever now by half.

Chris covered a hand over his face. Now that his attention was brought to it, he could see what Kazuya was doing. There was nothing new about his efforts to drag Chris from his self-imposed isolation, although this was the first time Kazuya had involved someone else. Possible collateral damage. There should be a limit to his penchant for high risk, high gain gambles.

This was likely to end very badly—but at least, Chris thought, this time he would see the end coming.

Eijun rolled onto his back, holding the magazine spread open above his face, but that didn't help the words make any more sense. The normal words were fine, but peppered among them were the borrowed flat-tongued sounds the foreigners spoke, utterly unknowable beyond the katakana printed on the page. A small handful he could recall hearing before when he sounded them out, but the rest held no meaning whatsoever to him.

How the hell am I supposed to read this?

He let the magazine fall across his face. It was more useful as a shade than as reading material anyway, even if it did smell like dirt and dust after being thrown at the ground a couple times in frustration.

'Colloquial,' 'easy to digest,' 'simple task'…

"As if!" Eijun tossed the magazine into a corner of the room he shared with Haruichi and pressed an arm over his eyes, grinding his teeth. This was impossible. Chris was making this impossible. It was like Eijun had no choice but to fail and he hadn't even started on any of the things he knew (hoped) he'd be better at.

He hadn't said anything to Takashima yet. Hadn't wanted to admit defeat. Even now the mere thought rankled, his arm pressing down harder, the pressure making his head ache behind his eyes. Not gonna quit. Not happening. Not after signing the contract, not after committing to this path, not after choosing Seidou and coming to Asagao and leaving home. Not after causing trouble for his parents and Wakana and even the house already. He was two weeks into his debt and even that amount was more than he could pay, flat broke as he was. But he'd made that choice. He'd come here with nothing and he'd known it would be hard, and the only thing to do was dedicate himself completely.

So he'd found a wall and hit it hard. Maybe he'd hit it more than once. Maybe all he was doing was battering himself against it repeatedly. So what? If force wasn't working he'd just have to climb over it. The only way was forward. He hadn't done everything he could yet. He'd dig his fingers into the cracks if he had to. He'd use his teeth if he had to. Anything. Anything was fine as long as it worked.

He drew his arm away, blinking as dark spots cleared from his vision, and belatedly noticed the angle of the sun outside. Eijun heaved himself upright and jumped to his feet so fast he practically levitated. He was halfway out the door and slipping across the floorboards (did they have to be so damn polished?) when he remembered to dart back inside to grab the crumpled magazine, then skidded his way down the corridor.

The servants he nearly bowled over yelled at him. He shouted his apologies as he ran straight through the main hall to the western pavilion, his designated training area with Chris, empty and out of the way where no one else could be bothered.

Eijun threw open the sliding door. "I'M SORRY FOR BEING LATE!"

Chris, standing over the carp pond, flinched as Eijun made his crashing entrance. He half-turned, and as he did so, something small fell from his upturned hand and gleamed briefly before clattering off the edge of the veranda. The soft plop of whatever it was hitting the water made Eijun's stomach turn to stone and sink just as surely.

He froze in the doorway while Chris looked down, expression blank. Blanker than usual. Unblinking and unmoving—and Eijun cringed while he inched inside, quietly closing the door behind him. I did something really, really bad, oh shit, what did I do, what was that, is he mad, he looks totally mad, shitdamnit what do I do…

Eijun cleared his throat. "I…!" Chris didn't move. With a gulp, Eijun stumbled ahead. "I'm extremely sorry, I didn't mean to—I'll just—" He couldn't bring himself to straighten up from the apologetic bow he'd dropped into, and hunched his way over to the pond. The water wasn't that deep, but it was murky, and the fish were hungry little bastards. He couldn't see a thing aside from their scaly twists and turns. "I'll definitely retrieve whatever it was!"

"You needn't bother."

"No, it was my fault, I will absolutely—"

"Sawamura."

Neck stiff, his every bone and muscle locked and protesting, Eijun lifted his head to meet Chris' unreadable gaze.

"Forget about it. Let's begin the lesson. We're already starting late."

"Yes, sensei! Right away!"

"Did you read the magazine?"

"Er…" The battered roll flexed in the nervous grip of his hands. "Kinda…?"

Chris waited him out, and Eijun felt himself shrink further under the oppressive, judgmental silence.

Wait, this isn’t fair. What happened just before was my fault, fine, but that and this are two different things! He drew in a breath and let it all out in a rush. "I tried! But I don't know all the foreign words so of course I'm not gonna understand it! You already knew I wouldn't get those parts, so why did you even assign this to me? Are you just messing with me now?" Eijun clenched his fist like he was ready to fight, putting punch into his words. "Is it that fun for you?!"

"Fun," Chris repeated in his soft-spoken monotone, unfazed. He might as well have been a wall himself for all that Eijun could never make him budge. "No, I don't believe fun has any part in this." He closed his eyes and let out the barest of sighs. "I see. So you didn't complete the assignment because you gave up."

Eijun snapped up straight, lips thinning back over his teeth. "Who gave up?!"

"There was no other reason you couldn't complete the assignment."

"But I—"

"Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Ask…" Eijun swallowed the sudden knot that had formed in his throat and his voice came out choked. "Ask who?"

There was no escaping the relentless stare of Chris' gaze. "Me, your teacher, for one. Or any of your senpai who have already learned this. The servants, the guards, Rei-san, even the owner if you had wished. Out of the dozens of people in this house, at least one of them would have helped you."

Any other excuse Eijun could have offered dried up on his tongue and filled his mouth with a bitter taste. "I…"

"If you can't do that much, quit now. That's the best thing you can do."

"I'm not quitting!" A good, angry burn roared up from within and cleared the way for him to accuse, "Aren't you the one trying to make me quit? What's your problem, anyway? Why'd you come back to teach if you're just going to drive me off?"

Chris stared at him long enough that it almost seemed like he wouldn't bother to respond. Then finally, he said, "You truly are hopeless."

"You're just deciding that on your own!"

"If you disagree with my judgment, so be it. You'll find out the hard way."

Eijun snarled. "Yeah? Fine! Not that it matters to you. If it's like this, shouldn't we just separate already? Someone else can teach me, it doesn't have to be you. Wouldn't that be for the best?"

Stony silence answered him. No matter how many times Eijun struck he never saw so much as a spark flare to life in Chris. The man turned away. "Finish your assignment for today, Sawamura. That will be all."

The rolled-up magazine was practically forgotten in his fist. "Is that it?" Eijun demanded. "Are you quitting now?"

"It's pointless to try and get anything else done today. We'll resume tomorrow. But you may be right…" Chris paused, one hand on the door, his back to Eijun. "I don't have any other expectations."

The panel of the door glided open and snicked quietly shut, leaving Eijun alone in the room with nothing but the stifling heat of the day and the crawling burn in his gut that ate away at him from inside. His legs folded gracelessly as he dropped to the floor, knees bent, magazine flopping beside him and one hand burying in his hair. "What the hell," he murmured. "Just what kind of expectations did he have in the beginning? I really don't get that guy."

The hour was late and business was winding down. Rei stepped out of the main hall, leaving Masuko in charge of overseeing the remaining customers. A few more might trickle in as Seidou was open until dawn, and there was always a nightly rotation of second- and third-rank courtesans available to entertain should that happen, but those who were not currently engaged could retire for the evening.

Rei rolled her neck and rubbed the slope of her shoulder through the thin cotton of her yukata. She was youthful enough still, but managing a household put a different kind of stress on the body.

She took a brief soak to help ease the day's ache away, and on her way out of the bath house almost ran into a waiting Sawamura, who immediately turned red and stuttered for a good minute without showing any sign of getting around to his point.

"Let's talk in my office," Rei suggested, and finished toweling her hair as she walked. Most of the boys were used to sharing the bath with her and the other female staff of the household, but Sawamura was still new. He'd grow accustomed.

She turned on the light and sat at her desk, and the business-like atmosphere seemed to help him get his thoughts back together and explain—more or less articulately—about what had happened during his training that day.

"I see," Rei said, leaning back in her chair. "I was already aware that there were some problems after reading Chris-kun's progress reports…"

Sawamura stiffened. "What—what did he say in them?"

"The same things he told you in person, I'm sure." She read into the tight scowl that wrote itself on the boy's features.

Oh, he was plenty angry and frustrated, just as Chris had said. Impatient, too. She'd given him a goal to work towards with the hope that it would help focus his excess energy, but she'd miscalculated. Sawamura was blinding with all that spirit and determination, and while Rei had noted his flickers of insecurity from the start she had wrongfully assumed they'd evaporate in the light of everything else. Instead they'd remained as tarnished dark spots that threatened to spread further. He was only 14, it wasn't so surprising. This issue was a result of her own error in judgment.

"Sawamura-kun."

"Yes!" His voice was loud for the late hour, but the resentment had fled from his expression to be replaced with firm resolve that lit up his eyes.

Rei couldn't help but smile. "I understand it's difficult. Chris-kun doesn't go easy on the apprentices he's in charge of training, but I assure you, he is the best teacher there is. It's only been a few weeks since you arrived. There's no need to rush, just learn one thing at a time."

Her answer wasn't necessarily the one Sawamura wanted to hear, but he needed to hear and understand it. The line of his mouth flattened, but he gave a single, dedicated nod. "I get it. I know I—he was right, today, about what I should have done. But just… why's he like that? You said he was a great a courtesan before he retired, but I just don't see it. I don't get him at all." The frustration came back, visibly knotting him up. He was tense and unable to sit still.

Well, it was natural for anyone to be curious. Rei took a moment to remove her glasses and wipe the lenses, deliberating. It wasn't really her place to say, but the rest of the household already knew, and there would need to be some bridge of understanding between teacher and student for their relationship to work. She resettled her glasses and then folded her hands overtop the desk. "You see, Chris-kun…"

"Rei-chan~ I wouldn't."

She glanced up to see Kazuya leaning on the doorway. Or hanging off it, more like. His suit jacket was flung over his shoulder and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, tie loose around his neck. A flush lingered on his face and his hair was in disarray.

Sometimes she was tempted to acquiesce to Kuramochi's demands that one of the bodyguards tag along on all of Kazuya's outings. Most people were sensible enough to respect the rules that protected the courtesans of Yugao, but…

"I wouldn't," he said again, the look in his eyes sharp and keen despite his disheveled appearance. "It shouldn't matter, and that's always been the case. No meddling, remember? If Sawamura can't handle things as they stand, too bad."

"I'm right here," Sawamura muttered, shooting Kazuya a mistrustful look. "What are you doing here anyway? You look awful."

"I'm checking in with our dear manager to let her know I'm back safe and sound. It's routine, dumbass."

Sawamura bristled and snapped while Rei's eyes gave the tiniest roll heavenward. Kazuya should have checked in with Masuko already, after that he'd probably seen her light on and came around to investigate like the sneak he was.

He had the predatory stalk of a cat on the hunt as he abandoned the doorway to crowd Sawamura instead, needling him, and then shaking with giddy amusement at every overblown reaction he provoked. The uninhibited behavior was only partially due to the alcohol. Kazuya was the type that held back with his customers, and after a long night of entertaining he needed some kind of release. He was notorious for driving his peers out of their minds or into bed—or both—on such nights.

Sawamura had Rei's sympathies for being on the receiving end of those antics, but since it looked like Kazuya was more intent on being a pest than seducing the inexperienced boy she wouldn't interfere. Many courtesans followed similar patterns. Kazuya just happened to be more obnoxious about it than most. This was yet another thing Sawamura would have to grow accustomed to as part of life at Seidou.

Although, on the other hand, maybe Kazuya would also have to learn how to duck.

"Get off'a me, you bastard! You drunk tanuki!" Sawamura's open hand smacked against Kazuya's grinning face, more of a hearty push than a slap, and it had the desired effect of at least fending him off.

Kazuya laughed, muffled against the palm half-covering his mouth. His eyes glittered behind his skewed glasses, and he did something—probably licked Sawamura's hand judging by the screech and yank back that followed. Smirking, he said, "You know, I am one of your senpai, you could show a little respect."

"You'd have to earn it!" Sawamura glared, wiping his hand furiously on his clothes. "Go away, I'm having a talk with Takashima-san!"

All at once, Rei remembered how late it was and how tired she felt. Not to mention if Sawamura got any noisier he would wake everyone in the northern pavilion, including the owner. She cleared her throat, which got Kazuya's attention immediately and Sawamura fell into line shortly after. "Was there anything more you needed to tell me, Sawamura-kun? Elsewise, I believe we should all retire for the night."

"Eh? Oh… well, you were going to say right before this guy interrupted…"

Kazuya met her eyes over Sawamura's head, the vibrant flush of his amusement fading out to leave cool, blank acceptance of whatever she decided. He could be difficult at times, insufferable even, but never so insolent as to challenge a respected authority.

And Rei conceded that he did have a point. The rule was that no one pried into anyone's past, and Chris had a messier one than most. It was his choice whether to share it. None of the other courtesans would disrespect that, and what kind of household manager would she be if she didn't uphold the same standard?

She gave a gentle shake of her head. "I'm sorry, Sawamura-kun. Please just understand that Chris-kun has his own circumstances."

"But—"

"Hey now." Kazuya laid a hand on Sawamura's shoulder. It was less of a prodding gesture meant to irritate and more of an attempt to ground the boy. "Leave the past alone. Everyone has things they don't want to talk about. Instead, focus on what you can do right—"

"But that's impossible!" Sawamura broke the tenuous connection with a jerk of his shoulder, eyes burning with a dangerous, unsteady light and his words crashing over each other. "I can't learn anything from someone like that! Can't it be someone else? He's already given up on me anyway, so why should this useless relationship continue? It'd be better if we ended it!"

Kazuya's hand moved faster and with more precision than Rei would have given him credit for in his current state. He clamped over Sawamura's mouth, fingers denting the flesh of his cheeks, and leaned forward with an expression that was tight and tense and close to snapping. "This mouth sure knows how to cause trouble," he said, drawling his words like an offhand observation that didn't match the narrow slant of his eyes. "It looks to me like you're the one giving up on him, so why don't you refrain from making conclusions about other people, hm? Training is hard and Chris-senpai isn't easy to get along with. Fine. That's fair. Complain if you want. Give up if you want. But if you do, you'd better be prepared to give up a lot more."

It was because Rei knew where his anger was coming from that she interjected, "That's enough."

Sawamura didn't move after he was released, eyes shocked wide and face slack from the stun of Kazuya's condemnation.

He so rarely succumbed to such emotion. Clients weren't the only people he held back with. But after a night like tonight, when his feelings were already too close to the surface, and the subject was a little too sensitive… under those circumstances the harshness of the rebuke was no surprise.

Kazuya clicked his tongue, wearing a grimace of frustration. Some of it was self-directed. "Sorry for the disturbance, Rei-chan. I'll leave first."

"We could all use rest," she said, rising from her chair. "Goodnight, Kazuya-kun."

He swept past without a glance, but paused in the doorway just long enough to make an abortive motion, not quite turning his head, and then he was gone.

Sawamura hadn't noticed. He didn't seem to be noticing much of anything still.

"Sawamura-kun."

"…Huh?" Awareness blinked back into his gaze, drifting until it focused on her.

"If you truly cannot train under Chris-kun, we'll arrange something else. But I would ask that you keep trying for a while longer."

"Y-yes, ma'am." He looked like he was too afraid to say no. Kazuya had really spooked him.

Aren't they a little too affected by each other? Rei kept her frown at a barely perceptible level. Kazuya she could trust to handle himself… usually. That incendiary episode was in part his own fault; Sawamura had been calm and reasonable when discussing the matter with her before Kazuya had shown up, getting him all riled and fuming and primed to explode.

Sawamura's volatile reactions could be excused for now on the basis of age and inexperience. If that didn't improve though, and if Kazuya couldn't be counted on to control the situation, Rei would have to consider finding someone else to teach Sawamura the more exotic dance styles, and that would involve hiring an outsider. There was the expense to consider, not to mention the general rule that apprentices were mentored by their senpai. It was a safeguard as much as it was tradition. Apprentices weren't as protected as full courtesans.

This was starting to give Rei a headache. "All right," she said, and tried to shove all the worries away for time being. "Thank you, Sawamura-kun. Things may be hard, but I truly believe you'll do well with Chris-kun's teaching. With respect to his privacy, I'll only say that he won't give up before you do. I hope you two will be able to come to an accord."

Sawamura bowed so low she feared he'd get on his knees, but fortunately for her peace of mind he stopped at the waist. He declared with far too much energy at this late hour, "I won't disappoint your expectations!" Rei winced delicately and prayed that none of this had woken Kataoka up. Sawamura let out one more emphatic burst: "I'll reflect on my mistakes for the rest of the night!"

"That's very admirable, but you should really just get some…" She trailed off as she watched Sawamura all but charge out of her office with renewed vigor. "…Sleep."

"I can't watch anymore, just looking at them is exhausting." Even as he said that, Kazuya didn't take his eyes away. He would fully admit to being in the clutches of laziness, lounging on his side with one hand propping his head up and the other fluttering a fan. It was another blazing hot day. He'd heard Rei muttering to herself earlier about the costs of installing more air conditioning units—a central system was no good considering the sheer size of the compound and its lack of insulation, but this was getting to be unbearable.

Despite the heat, training of the apprentices went on, and the wide open space of the main hall was filled with Jun's growling and Kuramochi's cackling laughter. Normally, Yuuki would also be participating as a much needed calming influence, but he was out on personal business. So Sawamura and Kominato were stuck with the two hotheads. Kazuya's pity was as deep as the sea he would happily drown in if only for a respite from the weather.

"Hm," Chris intoned, noncommittal as he wrote in his notebook. "Rather than complain, you could probably use a review in self-defense as well."

"Trust me, I'm not slacking in that area. Don't listen to Kuramochi, he's being a mother hen."

"Regardless, surely you could be doing something productive instead of bothering everyone else who's hard at work."

"I'm hardly being a bother. It's too hot for that."

Chris checked his watch and announced, "Time for a break."

Kazuya did him the favor of pitching his voice to be heard over the combined noise of Jun, Kuramochi, and Sawamura. Could there possibly be a louder trio? At least Kominato was nice and quiet. "Oi, break time!" Then to Chris: "See? I'm helpful."

The two apprentices basically collapsed.

"Harucchi… if I don't make it… please tell Wakana I'm sorry for never paying her back…"

"If you don't survive this, Eijun-kun, I surely won't."

Kazuya snickered. "Aw, look at how cute they are. …But seriously, isn't this a little much in this heat? I thought you'd object."

"You know I'm not that nice. True, Jun and Kuramochi tend to go beyond what strictly needs to be taught in terms of self-defense, but the exercise is good for them and it will help build stamina. I'll stop them well before they're in danger of being overstressed." Chris closed his notebook and took a sip of his barley tea, though it had probably turned lukewarm by now. He didn't seem all that bothered by the fact. "…Besides," he added, quieter than usual, "Sawamura focuses better after warming up his body."

"Oh?" Kazuya drew the note out as long as he could and threw in an eyebrow waggle, but Chris didn't so much as twitch in reaction. "Does that mean you're getting along better?"

"Better than you two, apparently."

Ouch. That one goes to Chris-senpai. Kazuya's mouth tugged in a half smile as Sawamura and Kominato dragged themselves to the opposite side of the room where the servants had brought water. "I'm not holding a grudge or anything, but he keeps avoiding me."

"Whatever you said made an impression."

"If the result is his training going more smoothly, then good."

"…What exactly did you say?"

Kazuya glanced up to meet Chris' shuttered gaze, answering straight and clear: "Don't worry, I'm not that careless. Even when I lose my temper. I just vented a little. I guess it takes blunt force to get through Sawamura's dense head."

Some of the tension eased out of Chris' shoulders, and there was an infinitesimal shift in his expression as he said, "…I don't believe I've ever seen you lose your temper."

"Not my best moment," Kazuya said airily. He waved the fan as if he could shoo away the leftover feeling of running his mouth off, and the gut-twisting realization of not being in control of what he said. It was a little scary—honesty, that is. Oh, he could lay out the truth for someone else just fine. Truth could be wielded to great effect. Accidentally tipping his hand, though, that was different. That was pure carelessness on his part, and Kazuya wasn't the type to show all his cards. Something like that was just stupid-brave. Something like that was more Sawamura's style.

"Anyway," he said, closing his fan with a dramatic snap and returning Chris' look with a much more pointed one of his own. "I won't say anything that shouldn't be said, but clearing the air could be a good thing, you know? For your own sake, I mean."

Chris fell silent, which Kazuya expected. There was no rush. A few weeks of immersion in Seidou and teaching again was already showing some small improvements. Longer, more engaging conversations, plans about the future—even if they were someone else's future. Little by little, Chris was being drawn out of the punishing seclusion he'd locked himself into. Things had looked uncertain there for a while, but Sawamura had buckled down at last and was applying himself properly now. They might make a real courtesan out of him yet.

Across the room the apprentice in question had already gotten his second wind, laughing loudly with a big, stupid grin on his face until Kuramochi kicked him from behind and hauled him out onto the floor. Ostensibly, Kuramochi was teaching him how to get out of holds, but it looked more like the guard was having fun putting Sawamura in increasingly ridiculous positions.

At least we know he's flexible enough for the dance styles he's going to learn. Nori was their specialist in traditional Hanano dance and would be teaching him those forms, but Sawamura's personality was probably better suited for the more radical foreign styles. Kazuya was far from an expert, but he knew more about those than anyone else in the house, so he was stuck with the job by default. As such, he was spending an awful lot of his free time doing research and expanding on his knowledge. He'd written a few letters to old contacts but it could be ages before he got any response given the distances involved, not mention the years that had passed since he'd last spoken with any of them. He wasn't in the habit of staying in touch with people from his former life.

Kazuya flicked the fan open again and waved it in front of his face, as much to ward off the heat as it was to mask the wry turn of his mouth. He'd never gone to such lengths for training an apprentice before. But then, no one before had made him want to.

"Senpai," he said, eyes trained on the way Sawamura arched as he was bent to what should have been a painful degree, but all that showed on his red, animated face was annoyance. "There's another dance I want to add to the list."

"Another?" It might have been wishful thinking, but Chris almost sounded amused.

"There's room for one more, isn't there?"

The list was already quite long. Some of the dances were a part of the core skill training many courtesans learned, like the formal Esteren ballroom styles or the sensual Tängrish belly dance. Then there were the ones Kazuya thought might suit Sawamura uniquely well; the narrative element of classical Hajaran dances would make good use of his expressive face, and when he wasn't overdoing his movements (rare as those instances were) he had a fluidity that would befit the elegance of a Lianqi water sleeve dance. There were a few casual folk dances thrown into the mix as well, for fun or experimentation. He went back and forth on things like sword dances or fire dances because on one hand Kazuya liked the dangerous spectacle of them, but on the other hand he knew potential disaster and property damage when he saw it.

He also knew potential brilliance when he saw it, and he saw it now in the way Sawamura contorted in a futile attempt to break free of Kuramochi's merciless hold. The flex and twist of his joints was fascinating and even a little grotesque, reminiscent of something Kazuya had seen years ago in a Gallian theater. Back then a certain dancer had been on tour all across the Greater Esteren region, a girl famously likened to a creature "seemingly made up of muscle but without bones." Kazuya had been to two of her shows and didn't contest the description. Sawamura possessed the flexibility to pull off a decent imitation, maybe. If he could gain better control and more strength, fine-tune his balance…

"You look like you're already planning it anyway."

At some point a grin had overtaken his features. Kazuya dialed it back, but only enough to shift from blatant to subtle. "So is that a yes?"

"You're his primary instructor in this area, you can schedule his training however you want." Chris sipped his tea again, staring out across the floor where Sawamura had finally been freed. He laid there prone until Jun barked at him, and promptly scrambled to his feet.

So tiring, Kazuya thought, both amazed and pitying. "Say… have you changed your mind at all regarding his chances of success?"

Chris grew quiet again, but eventually he answered, "He's very persistent. And perhaps not entirely hopeless."

In the middle of the room Sawamura landed on the floor again and again. Each time he got back up, and sooner or later Kuramochi was going to be the one on the ground with the wind knocked out of him. There was a tenacious look in Sawamura's eye, golden-bright and focused. He shouted—loud, clear—and threw himself into the exercise once more.

"Is that so," Kazuya murmured behind his fan, fluttering it, and watched with rapt attention until the lesson ended and there was nothing more to see.

"I feel a little bad going out to have fun when all the senpai are working…" Haruichi glanced over his shoulder as they lost sight of Seidou's walls amongst the rest of the glowing lights of the district. The streets were livelier than usual, especially once they joined the crowd flowing through Kagetsu Road.

Eijun pressed ahead, dodging through people as he made his way towards the northern gate. "We've been working hard for weeks, we deserve a break! And Takashima-san said it was all right." Even Chris had given his approval. He hadn't smiled or anything nice like that when he said it, and he'd shaken his head when invited to come along, but he'd told them to go enjoy the festival and these days Eijun made sure to listen to his teacher.

They weren't close by any stretch, but they had a working relationship. Eijun did as he was told without complaint—and he was learning, bit by bit. His handwriting would never be called beautiful but Chris had deemed it legible at last, and Wakana would be proud of his ever-expanding kanji vocabulary. They'd moved on to include other subjects in his general education. Eijun had some confidence in history thanks to growing up on his grandpa's stories about the old days before all this foreign nonsense came about. Science was… well, a lot of foreign nonsense at first, but he'd been living in Asagao for almost two months now and had yet to catch any pestilence from walking under the power lines that crossed the city, so maybe some of his grandpa's stories were full of shit. Lastly there was math, the new bane of Eijun's existence. The less said of that one, the better.

Every now and then he had to squash the niggling worry that none of this was enough and he wasn't getting anywhere. When that happened he stamped the doubt into the ground and walked on, taking one step at a time. Chris gave him a short-term goal to meet, Eijun worked his way towards it, and then the pattern would repeat. Slow and steady.

After all that, he'd earned a night out to play and have fun. Probably. If Chris said it was fine, it was fine. Though he still rebuffed all of Eijun's attempts to bridge the uncomfortable gap between them. They were teacher and student in function, but something about that didn't seem quite fair. Eijun couldn't put his finger on why.

"Sawamura's right," said Kuramochi, dragging Eijun out of his muddled pondering. The lanky guard grinned slyly as he paced beside them with a bounce in his step. "You two should take advantage of the opportunity while you can since full courtesans have to work most holidays. Though everyone will get a break on the last day of the Lantern Festival to light offerings on the river."

"It must be an impressive sight in a city this big," Haruichi said.

"I guess it is. I was born and raised here, so I see it every year." He slung a wiry arm around Eijun's neck without warning. "So! Where are we meeting your friend?"

Eijun struggled uselessly at first until he recalled his lessons, but before he could go for the fingers or the inside of the wrist Kuramochi released him with a knowing smirk and a "too slow!" finger wag. Eijun scowled. "Why are you even here, don't you have your own work to do?"

"Hah? I am working, you idiot. Rei-san asked me to babysit you two."

"We don't need—ow!" Eijun's head bobbed forward from the smack he received to the back of it. His hand flew to the spot and rubbed, stinging more from offended pride than from real pain. "What was that for?!"

"Don't you pay any attention at all? A babysitter is customary."

"I thought a bodyguard was optional!"

"Eijun-kun," Haruichi said, inserting himself between them. "It's different for apprentices. The house is just looking out for us."

"Yeah, the reasons are complicated." Kuramochi folded his hands behind his head as he walked. "For one, since you're not officially a member of the household until you surrender your name, you're not under its full protection by law. And there's a bunch of other stuff that has to do with organizing your debut, like managing the spread of information, that kinda thing. I don't get all of it myself, but basically, try not to announce you're an apprentice at Seidou whenever you're outside, and don't get into trouble if you can help it."

That… sort of made sense. The no-troublemaking part did at least. Eijun gave a curt nod. "Fine, got it. …But still, you look like you're here to play, not work."

Kuramochi threw his head back and laughed. "Sure, as far as escort jobs go, a festival is a lot better than a stuffy old theater!"

They soon reached the bridge where they were meeting Wakana, and as expected, she was already waiting for them. She was dressed for the occasion in a colorful yukata with small, decorative pins in her short hair. Eijun opened his mouth to shout and get her attention.

A sudden, sharp tug on the back of his clothes made him stop. Eijun twisted around. "What?"

Kuramochi's shoulders were hunched—was he hiding behind Eijun?—and he hissed, "You're friends with Aotsuki Wakana?"

"Yeah, we're from the same village. I came to Asagao because of her." Eijun watched, mystified, as Kuramochi's eyes squeezed shut. "Are you okay?"

Wakana had noticed them on her own and approached with a smile. "Eijun, Haruichi, you're both looking well. Especially in your case, Haruichi."

Haruichi let out an embarrassed laugh. "Thank you again for your help that time. You look lovely tonight, Wakana-chan."

"Thank you." Wakana brushed a finger over one of her flower-shaped hairpins and then leaned sideways, peering around Eijun. "Is that… Kuramochi-san?"

There was a light cough behind Eijun, and Kuramochi stepped forward. He was all stiff. "Hey there. I'm with these two tonight—work, y'know. So, uh, don't mind me."

It was only because Eijun had known her for so long that he could pick up on the fidget of her fingers in the hem of her sleeve. Otherwise, Wakana smiled like usual and nodded. "I'm sure Haruichi is no problem, but I'm sorry you have to look after likes of Eijun."

At that Kuramochi cracked a grin. "Tell me about it."

"Why am I friends with you people?" Eijun whined aloud, shaking his head at whatever weirdness was between them. Wakana, who knew him just as well as he knew her, was shooting him warning glances to keep his mouth shut about it, so he did.

He wasn't going to leave Kuramochi alone about it later, though.

The streets were choked with people as the festival reached its peak, and somewhere in the midst of it all Eijun got separated from the others. One minute he was half-listening to Wakana and Haruichi as they compared the regional variations of the traditional dance that was performed in their respective hometowns, and Kuramochi was laughing by his ear, and the drums of the musicians on the scaffold were pounding away at a steady, leading beat. Asagao's version of the dance was similar to the one Eijun had grown up with. He edged around the people standing in front to get a better look. The circle of dancers moved clockwise around the scaffold, but some of the hand motions were different: a twist of the wrist here, a half-turn there. At the end of the performance the circle moved inward and everyone gathered up the flowers that decorated the base of the stand, scattering them out over the audience. Petals fluttered everywhere, filling the evening with a delicate scent, and when Eijun looked around he saw no sign of his friends.

"…Wakana? Oi, Harucchi?" And then more quietly, because he didn't look forward to the headlock or worse that was in store for him: "Kuramochi-san?"

No response from the milling crowd.

Eijun scratched his head. "Where the heck did they go without me?"

Asagao was huge—it was said to rival Kigiku in size—so getting lost in a crowd here was different from back home where you could hardly help bumping into the same faces over and over. Eijun learned this the hard way after what felt like hours of fruitless searching. Even just sticking to the festival grounds, there were too many people and none of them were people he knew.

Oh well. Eijun leaned against a wall and balanced on one foot to work a pebble free from where it had gotten stuck between his sole and sandal. No helping it, I'll just head back to Seidou on my own. The festival was winding down, but Yugao would continue to be busy for hours yet. He'd return, take whatever scolding he'd earned (it wasn't as if anything bad had happened though), and then maybe find a way to make himself useful. Sometimes the servants allowed him to help with the cleaning or gave him other small tasks that didn't put him anywhere near the customers (apparently he flat-out wasn't allowed to be around them, which he was almost offended over until Chris explained it was a rule that applied to all apprentices). Other times, though, Eijun was ordered in no uncertain terms to stay out of everyone's way, and that left him with no choice but to study by himself.

Eijun made a sour face at the distasteful thought. Tonight was a busy night though, surely they'd need the extra help. Pushing away from the wall, he started down the road that would take him back to Yugao.

He hadn't gotten far—there were still paper lanterns lighting the way above his head—when he came across the foreign lady being harassed.

She was very obviously foreign with a head of golden hair and skin as white as porcelain, although she was dressed in Hanano style. There had been others like her at the festival, always in groups. This woman was alone. The geta on her feet clacked as she impassively ignored the men around her, but she glared and made a sharp motion with her arm when one of them got too close.

There were a handful of other people passing by on the road. They spared a few curious or cautious glances before ducking their heads, avoiding the trouble.

Eijun was supposed to be avoiding trouble as well. Kuramochi's warning rang loud in his ears and then was silenced by the defiant slap of the woman's hand, raised in the air after turning the pushy man's cheek. Her other wrist was caught in his grip. Angry words were spat at her and she wasn't released so much as shoved, falling to the ground with a hard thud.

After that Eijun couldn't recall a thing of what Kuramochi had told him, but he did remember the way Kuramochi always kicked him from behind. He raised a leg and snapped it out with a pivot, and the jeering man went sprawling face-down in the dirt at the feet of his friends.

Eijun cracked a grin, his blood pumping fast in his veins, still balanced on one leg. "How do you like it, asshole?"

The rest proceeded exactly the way anyone would expect given the 3-to-1 odds.

Eventually the fight ended at the sound of a police whistle. The other men scattered, bruised and a little bloody. One of them had a limp. Eijun was worse for wear, and he simply laid flat on his back in the middle of the road for a while as the officer barked questions above him. An accented voice answered, and at some point the officer's tune changed from hard demands to meek politeness.

I am in so much trouble when I get back. Eijun stared up at the night sky and catalogued the damage. His right eye felt swollen and squinty. Everything ached, and his shoulder in particular twinged when he jostled it. He was pretty sure that sticky trickle down the side of his face wasn't sweat. Taste of copper in his mouth, not all of it belonging to him. Bruises, scrapes, nothing broken he didn't think. All in all, it could have been worse.

"Are you all right?" The pale face that appeared above his was haloed in gold, and fuzzy around the edges until his vision focused. A pair of concerned green eyes met his. "Can you walk or should I call for a rickshaw? I'll take you to a doctor."

Eijun sat up so fast his head spun. He almost fell back over, catching himself with both hands sliding in the dirt. "Ah, no, I'm fine!"

"Are you sure? I must repay you somehow. I'm not carrying much on me now, but… where do you live?"

His thoughts swam, slip-sliding around, and he grabbed for the nearest answer he could get hold of: "Seidou." Then the unease hit, memory catching up to his mouth just a half-step too late. Didn't Kuramochi-san say not to talk about that?

"Sei... dou?"

A throb built in his temples. Oh no. Maybe it was inappropriate to mention. They were outside of Yugao, and the pleasure district was walled off for a reason. She looked to be a proper, wealthy sort, with fancy metalwork pins in her hair, never mind the dirt on her clothes. Maybe she could afford to buy new ones whenever she wanted. The police officer was waiting patiently to the side instead of ordering her around. She spoke Eijun's language well, and she seemed nice, but her eyes had gone wide and stricken. Was she offended? Oh shit, had he just offended a rich, important foreigner?

"Sorry!" Eijun scrambled to sit up straight, getting his legs folded under him. He couldn't help but clench his hands in his lap. "I probably shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to—to cause any offense..."

"Oh." The lady blinked. She shook her head. "No, no, that's perfectly all right, I just wasn't expecting to hear that name. So you work at Seidou... well, that's fine then. If you won't let me take you to a doctor I'll speak to Takashima-san for you instead. You were hurt helping me after all."

"Really?"

"Of course. It's the least I can do."

Eijun bowed low, forehead almost touching the ground, before springing back up with a grin that pulled at his bruises. He hardly noticed the ache. "Thanks! You've saved me."

The lady withdrew a silk handkerchief from her sleeve. "I should be saying those words to you." She dabbed at his face as if she was his mother, but unlike with his mother Eijun held himself totally still, not wanting to be rude. A fresh, flowery scent clung to the fabric that came away dirty with his blood. "Seidou," she repeated thoughtfully. "It's been a while since I last visited there."

"You've been there? As a..." He shut his mouth. Female customers, he'd been told, while not common did come by once in a while. He hadn't seen any himself, but he only caught glimpses of those who came to the house at night. There was the occasional foreign man. A foreign woman would be rarest of all. Has she really…?

The smile forming on her lips was reassuring. Secretive, even. She winked a bright eye at him, and with some of the dignity peeled away she was younger than he'd first guessed. Maybe around 20. An adult for sure but not very settled into the role yet. "A few times," she admitted. "My parents didn't entirely approve, but no one could keep me away when I wanted to see someone. Do you know—ah, probably not. You look too young to have known him."

"Who? I could ask one of the others." Chris would know. He knew everybody and everything.

She sat back, hands moving in her lap to fold the handkerchief into smaller and smaller squares. "It's… no, never mind. It's a bit indelicate to ask, really. Please forget about it." Both hands squeezed around the tightly folded piece of silk. Dirt and drying blood were rubbed into her skin.

He just couldn't leave it at that. "I'll ask Chris-sensei, I'm sure he knows."

The handkerchief fluttered away as the woman's hand rose, very slowly, to cover her open mouth.

Eijun's stomach knotted up with worry. What did I say this time?

"You know Chris? Then you know—wait, you said 'sensei'… so he's teaching now?" Her wide-eyed gaze lowered, shifting to the side, and she murmured almost inaudibly behind her fingers. "I see. He went back. Surely, that means…" She fell silent, hand dropping to grip the fabric of her yukata. Then, leaning forward suddenly, her eyes found his and held fast. "Could you tell me how he's doing? Is he well?"

"He's... er... healthy?" There was a buzzing in Eijun's head from all the fragmented thoughts whirling around in it. Curiosity kicked up a storm, and reason was tethered with a fraying line. I shouldn't ask. I told Takashima-san I wasn't going to ask. But…!

"I apologize for prying. You must think I'm shameless. I don't intend to disturb him, it's just..." Her shoulders tensed, then slumped. Her entire frame slumped and her voice got quiet, her accent growing thicker until the last words came out in punctuated, syllabic blocks. "I worry about how he's been since our marriage was annulled."

"Annul—" Eijun choked around the word he couldn't swallow. His eyes popped and he blinked rapidly. "Chris-sensei was married?!"

"You didn't know? I thought since—I'm sorry, I just assumed." She laughed a little, but those few notes had weights attached to them, dropping heavily once released. "Well. It's not a secret. I'd wager most of Yugao, not to mention a good bit of the rest of the city, know all about the sordid tale. Nothing says 'scandal' like a match between a courtesan and an heiress. Oh!" Her hands clapped together once, making Eijun jump. He still wasn't done processing the fact that Chris had been married, and to a foreign heiress at that. "Where are my manners? I haven't properly introduced myself. I'm Anna Blackwood, pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you," Eijun echoed, habit taking over to incline his body down again. "Sawamura Eijun. I entered Seidou just last month."

Anna straightened herself, regaining some of the composure that would befit her station. "Sawamura-kun… I realize the hour is late and you must be returning to Seidou soon, but would you mind speaking with me a bit longer? I'd very much like to hear more about how Chris is doing. I imagine he's a good teacher."

"He's, uh, well he knows a lot." That much was certainly true. Eijun tried to avert his gaze because there was a foreign heiress kneeling in the dirt next to him, but despite his efforts his glance kept sneaking back to her. She was all bright and golden, and maybe that was why Chris was so dark and gloomy now. Married. He still couldn't quite believe it. "Anna-sa—no, I guess it's… Miss Anna? Can I ask…?"

"Go ahead."

"Was it really bad? Why—shit, sorry, it's none of my business. Sorry." He winced and clapped a hand over his mouth. It really did keep getting him in trouble.

"Hmm, well, how about this?" Anna shifted, getting up onto her feet and patting the dust from her clothes. Then she reached out a hand. "You can tell me about the present, and I'll tell you about the past. My side of it, anyway. If you don't want to, though, that's fine. I'll understand. Otherwise, do we have a deal?"

He'd been resolved, honest, to abide by the house rules and not inquire into Chris' private life. Although technically he still wasn't inquiring. The information was being offered. By Chris' ex-wife. Did that make a difference? Half the city knew anyway. Would Takashima disapprove? Would Kazuya get mad? (Wait, no, Eijun didn't care what they guy thought.)

There were too many factors to think about. He never had to deal with this when he spoke without thinking at all.

Anna's hand waited in midair, white and slender and soft in a way that he shouldn't recklessly touch. He just shouldn't. But a bright gleam caught Eijun's eye, and he grasped for that bit of light before he knew what he was doing; he saw only the shine of the ring on Anna's finger, and the memory of something very much like it falling away out of reach.

When Chris was let in through Seidou's front gate he was greeted by the sight of Sawamura in full prostration, forehead touching the pavestones, not saying a word. The bow of his back was drawn tight and his fingers pressed hard upon the ground until they turned white at the tips. At the sound of the gate closing he flattened even more.

Kanemaru, with his brow in a perpetual knit, edged close enough to mutter under his breath, "He's been sitting there since the sun rose. I couldn't get him to move no matter what."

There should be a limit to sincerity. To bull-headed foolish obstinacy. But then, for better or worse, that was largely what made Sawamura so unique. Chris nodded, stepped forward, and kneeled to lessen the burden of gravity on his shoulders that seemed to have increased tenfold. "Sawamura," he said, reaching out partway before his hand stopped short of making contact. His fingers curled, drawing back. "Please rise."

Sawamura knocked his forehead against the ground. "Sensei, I humbly beg you to accept my apology first."

"I'll accept it, whatever it is. Please get up." The sun beat down on the pavestones and the heat of them seeped through the layer of Chris' pants. Sawamura's exposed nape was coated in sweat and patches of the cloth covering his shoulders and back were soaked dark.

He didn't so much as lift his head, the stubborn boy, but his voice gained some of its typical volume and throat-grating intensity when he said, "I've been an idiot. I'm sorry, I learned about what happened even though it's none of my business, and I'm sorry, I said something to you before that I really shouldn't have. I'm such a—I'm sorry."

Chris thought it might be something like that. Really, it wasn't a surprise. He'd never thought of hiding the truth—doing so would have been pointless considering how public most of the event had been. Only the end had been quiet. No need for fanfare when swallowing a bitter draught. "Sawamura, it's fine. You'd have heard about it sooner or later. That's in the past now, you can forget about it."

"It's not fine, though!" Finally, he looked Chris in the eye. Tremendous bruising swelled the side of his face and before Chris knew what he was doing his hands had cupped under Sawamura's chin, urging him up and closer to examine the damage. Sawamura complied with stiff and halting movements, seeming to favor his left shoulder and clearly cramping all over from holding his position for hours on end. Chris had to support him to keep him upright. His mouth, though, remained unaffected. "'Forget about it'—you said that last time, too! But you haven't forgotten!"

There was a strip of plaster showing under the sweat-damp fringe of his hair, too small to be anything serious. He was warm from the sun, but didn't appear flushed with fever—and logically, Chris knew Rei and the others wouldn't let him pull stunts like this if he was that badly injured. But he really shouldn't be behaving like this at all.

"Let's go inside and put something on your eye." He pulled Sawamura up, keeping an arm around his shoulders, but of course the fool wouldn't go easily.

"Are you even listening to me?!" From excessively humble to outrageously demanding, there was no in between with him.

Chris half carried him into the house, pausing only to ask one of the servants to bring a cold compress and ignoring Sawamura's repeat insistence that he was just fine, no need to trouble yourself, in a day he'd be good as new.

"You should know," Chris began once they were more or less settled in a room that overlooked the pine garden, one of the most secluded spots in a corner of the compound, "that one of your duties as a courtesan will be to take care of yourself. You'll be making your living with your face and body."

"I know that," Sawamura mumbled, slumping over a table with the compress held to his face. He'd tried to sit in a proper seiza at first but obeyed when Chris told him to make himself comfortable. This way it was easier to evaluate his condition. He moved his shoulder gingerly but had no issues with his range of motion, and appeared to be more inconvenienced than outright pained by the injury. Some, but not all of the stiffness melted away as he recovered from the long bout of prostration.

That's not even common in the emperor's court anymore. What on earth happened last night?

When Chris posed that very question Sawamura went rigid again. There was no helping him sometimes. He cleared his throat and stumbled along with saying, "Right! I was on my way back from the festival—ah, I was alone, everyone else got separated after the dancing. I tried looking for them but Asagao is too big. Wakana will probably be annoyed that I didn't say goodbye… say, did you know she and Kuramochi-san know each other? What's up with that? I—no, that's beside the point. Anyway, I was leaving, and that's when I met Miss Anna."

Sawamura's pronunciation of the foreign name was stilted, each syllable laid out with exaggerated care, and in the short pauses Chris could document the precise stutter of his heart. A mere blip in the long run of its steady beat, but he marked it well, along with the tight, squeezing sensation that wrapped around and around inside his chest, until the pounding of his blood drowned out everything else. An ache like a tide rose inside him and above him. He reflexively held his breath to wait for it to pass. Or at least until he went numb.

"—and that's why I'm terribly sorry for my words and actions before! I won't give up, so please continue teaching me!"

The silence that widened the space after Sawamura's outburst was the kind that rang loud in Chris' ears, and he inhaled sharply, filling himself with a different kind of ache. Clearer, piercing. Painful in a way that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sawamura's head was bowed. Just his head this time at least. The rest of him sat cross-legged, hands atop his knees and gripping them with punishing force. He had the look of someone who awaited a terrible fate but refused to flinch in the face of it; the deep tuck of his chin was set in a mold of whole-bodied determination, much like the samurai of old. In this modern age people like that were only found in stories and plays. Perhaps Sawamura had been born in the wrong era. He easily could have been sitting with his head bent over a sword, its blade reflecting red with guilt, and Chris freshly bleeding.

There was no blood here though. No blade, though the feeling of a phantom cut lingered, and his heart continued to beat inside his chest—telling him that he was still very much alive.

In fact, he hadn’t felt this keenly alive in a long time.

"I see," Chris said. "So you heard everything from Anna." There, another cut. He made no move to staunch the flow. How long had it been since he'd said her name or heard it spoken? Months, maybe. Not because he'd forgotten, never that. He'd only kept it locked inside: that beloved sound and all of the memories and regrets. They were cluttered and burdensome, but they were all that he had left. A dusty hoard with him as sole guardian.

"Clear the air and be done with it," Kazuya had told him that many times, but Chris had never managed to do so. He hadn't even tried, not honestly. He just couldn't bring himself to throw it all away. Even after Sawamura blew open that door and the wedding band fell from Chris' stupidly precarious grasp, it wasn't really gone.

But maybe, like this, he could bleed everything out. His heart didn't know when to quit, keeping him going all this time despite the burdens it had to carry. It would keep on going afterwards, and then…

Well, then he would just have to see where that put him. Probably still here at Seidou, which kept a place for him no matter how long or cold his absence had been. Probably still here with Sawamura, who barreled into everything like a force of nature. He was that unstoppable, and that wildly unpredictable. To think he'd meet Anna himself. To think he'd stay after all the difficulties Chris had him face. To think he'd care enough to be sitting here like this, head bowed, body battered, and devastatingly earnest.

"Sawamura."

Slow and dignified wasn't his way; Sawamura lifted his head with a snap and release, not even the slightest cloud of hesitation lurking in his clear-cut gaze.

Chris wondered what those eyes saw in him. "Thank you for telling me," he said, and in the space of his next breath he suddenly understood Kazuya's smoking habit. There was a coiled, twitching need under his skin, an anxious pull of air lingering in his lungs that he released with acute care. "…Did she look well?"

A firm nod. Sawamura learned forward, encouraged. "Yeah, she seemed great! Except for, well, you know… she was a little sad when we talked. But she said, uh… that is…" He glanced away and started to mumble. "Miss Anna said she's remarried now… and it's going well… and that she hopes you can be happy." His voice rose in volume towards the end, once again looking Chris straight in the eye and making it impossible to retreat.

There was no cushion of apathy to blunt the news. This time the cut ran deep, severing. Chris breathed in, out, and spoke the first words that eluded his battered filters. "Mrs. It should be Mrs. Anna. That's the proper form of address for a married Esteren woman."

"Eh? But it sounds almost the same!"

"You could also use Ms."

"That's even worse…"

"Yes, the difference with that one is rather difficult to pick up."

"Damnit, so I was calling her the wrong title all this time?" Sawamura buried both hands in his hair, expression twisting in such consternation that Chris couldn't help but take pity on him.

"I'm sure she didn't mind. Anna is very informal among friends."

A modest blush appeared high on Sawamura's cheeks and he demurred, "I don't know if we're friends, exactly…"

"She would say that you are. She makes friends quite easily."

"I guess it's a habit," was what she'd once told him. Traveling the world as she did, she'd learned to be adaptable and assimilate wherever she went. She had stories, thousands of them, of the places she'd seen. Places she'd wanted to take him. Places he thought she would have gone back to instead of staying here all this time, close enough to cross paths and never quite doing so. Instead, Sawamura had done the crossing for both of them. He was the loophole in fate's design.

"Hey, sensei?"

"Yes?"

The color hadn't receded yet on Sawamura's face, glowing pink through his tan and bright next to his dark bruises. "Could you show me how to write those titles in Esteren?"

It was a bit early to start teaching him foreign letters, though he was improving greatly with his native language. He was making decent progress in his other subjects, too. History was his favorite, whenever he had an interest in something he could soak up information like a sponge. Science was met with blunt skepticism at first—not unusual in those who hailed from outside the city—which transformed into wonder as soon as the radical new concepts came to life. He was adaptable, accepting changes to his worldview easily after clearing the initial hurdle. His worst subject was math, to Sawamura it was the most boring field of all, but as far as courtesan work was concerned he could get by with knowing the bare minimum.

Chris supposed it wouldn't hurt to start working on specialized areas of study. Now that Sawamura was truly settling in at Seidou, and now that their teacher-student relationship was holding steady, his education and training should begin to shift towards a more personalized approach anyway. Moreover, this time Sawamura had bothered to ask. And before, he'd said…

"I won't give up, so please continue teaching me!"

There was only one thing Chris could say to such a request.

"Go get some paper and a pen then."

"Yes, sensei! Thank you!"

Sawamura's feet pounded as he ran down the hall, and Chris forgot to reprimand him because of the echo pounding within that said: still alive, still here.

Still bleeding, still breathing, still here.

I still miss her.

I still have…

By all appearances Seidou was untouched by the drought that withered the rest of the country. Rei must have been spending a fortune on water to keep the gardens presentable, and the morning glories along the southern wall continued to welcome Chris when he arrived early enough to catch them in full bloom.

Kanemaru was there to greet him at the gate as usual, and today he wore a pinched expression that could only mean one thing. "Chris-san, good morning…"

What did Sawamura do now? Chris glanced around but there was no guilty-looking perpetrator in sight. The level of his concern ticked upwards. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly…" A grimace pulled at the side of Kanemaru's face and he jerked his head in a hell-with-it shake. "There's a visitor for you. Rei-san is away for a couple days but the owner said it was all right, so your guest is waiting in the western pavilion with Sawamura."

The last part was said with deep misgiving. Chris hurried inside, but not because he shared Kanemaru's sentiment. His heart was doing its best to leap out of his throat and leave the rest of him behind, so he had no choice but to move to keep up with it. Swallow the lively thing back down. Try not to choke.

It was Sawamura he heard first, voice too big for the room and escaping to the hall beyond, his laughter rolling down the length of it to guide Chris forward. He came to stand before the door and raised a hand to the panel.

The sound of her voice filtered through the painted screen and it was real, not just remembered, not just imagined or dreamed or a trick of vibrations—it was real and it made everything stop. His hand stilled. His breathing faltered. Even the beat inside his chest went quiet and deferent. She spoke softly at first, her words polite and contained. He'd always thought of that as her Good Daughter Voice, not because it was reserved for her parents, but because it meant she was up to something the oh-so-noble Blackwoods weren't likely to approve of. You just wouldn't know that by listening to her, all proper and well-mannered. A good girl, a good daughter… a good wife.

Not too many years ago, that particular tone of hers had been a familiar sound within these walls. Chris closed his eyes and time overlapped like the crawl of a wave thinning across an untouched shore, translucent and swirling, and when the wave receded it left a water-dark stretch of sand. The ground gave a little under his feet. If Chris stood there too long he would sink into all that wet, sucking graininess.

But then there was Sawamura, at his boisterous best, pulling him out and dropping him back in the empty hallway.

"You're even friends with the owner! That's amazing, I can't hardly talk to him. He's kinda… you know? Unapproachable or something. The other day when I went to take a bath…"

The clutch of his own emotions released him and Chris slid the door open in a smooth, immediate motion before his window of opportunity passed. "What do you think you're saying in front of a guest?"

"Ah, sensei!" Sawamura's expression lit up clean and simple, with shining eyes and sunny grin. "I was just chatting with Mrs. Anna while she waited. I think she knows more about Seidou than I do!"

Chris could see from the corner of his eye that Anna had raised a hand to hide her smile. She was the type of person who took well to someone like Sawamura. If—when he completed his training, he would appeal to those who appreciated his genuine personality. Where slip-ups and a little bit of social clumsiness were seen as charming quirks instead of outright flaws. He didn't have to be all practiced poise. Though, there were some basics of conversation he had to learn first.

Reaching into his pocket, Chris withdrew the notebook where he recorded and updated his thoughts on Sawamura's training. It was a fluid, fluctuating schedule, moreso than usual for an apprentice, even an apprentice here at Seidou where rigid training regimens were eschewed. There was no one else Chris had ever worked so hard to teach. Kazuya would say that was part of the fun. Chris would shake his head in response, but he wouldn't disagree.

Sawamura had seen the notebook enough times to develop a knee-jerk reaction to its appearance, and dismay crowded his features. "What? What are you writing? What did I do?"

"We'll discuss later. There are certain topics a courtesan refrains from addressing in front of a guest." Admittedly, it was an informal visit, and Anna was more of a… personal acquaintance rather than a customer, but the point remained. Chris tucked the notebook away. He'd have left it at that, but Sawamura's miserable hunch was too pitiful. His extreme, overblown reactions weren't just for show. Chris couldn't imagine anyone else in the world being more emotionally committed than the kid in front of him. "Sawamura, were you the one who brought Anna to this room?"

His chin popped up, chasing off some of the clouds from his expression. "Yeah? I mean, yes! Was that not a good choice?"

"It was the perfect choice. This is one of the best rooms to show a visitor during the day. Good job."

Opposite of what Chris expected, Sawamura froze. Suddenly and completely. And he remained like that for second after glacial second. Finally, a sound struggled to emerge from his throat, and his mouth opened and closed, and his huge eyes blinked. "Y-you… you just complimented me…"

"I did," Chris said carefully. At this point he had to anticipate anything from collapse to paroxysms. There was no telling which way Sawamura would swing.

The deep inhale told him to brace himself for the joyous cry that erupted from Sawamura's thrown-back head, his arms splayed towards the ceiling in victory, and were those tears being squeezed from the corners of his eyes? "Finally! I've been acknowledged!"

Muffled giggles reached Chris' ears, making them burn. He coughed lightly into his fist. "Sawamura…"

"Yes, sensei!"

"Thank you for attending to Anna until I arrived. Could you—"

"Right! Of course! I'm sure Chris-sensei and Mrs. Anna have a lot to talk about it, so please excuse me! Take your time!" He made a precise bow, saw himself to the door, and slid it shut with an ear-to-ear grin on his face that couldn't be contended with. The room still crackled with his energy after the light tread of his feet faded.

Chris let out a breath. "…I was going to ask if he could bring some refreshments. Would you like anything?"

"Thank you, but I'm fine, no need to trouble yourself. My, having Sawamura-kun under your wing must be interesting."

"It's been an eye-opening experience."

"Hmm. Well, that sounds like a good thing. I'm glad."

He would have welcomed the distraction of serving a snack and drink. Easy to fall back on a familiar routine and pretend things were different. That he was still a courtesan and she was still his customer, that they were both still daring enough and hopeful enough to love like in the stories and plays. A romance and drama worthy of magazine pages and grand stages. The tragedy, though, that was where they'd lose their audience. There was no clean ending in lovers' suicide for them, no elegant matter of separation in life and togetherness in death. Reality was crueler than that. More tangled and bitter.

The room Sawamura had so aptly chosen was the one with the close view of the carp pond. Chris had been truthful in his assessment; it was frequently used for daytime visitors for its location and aesthetic. Not too deep into the western pavilion to be inconvenient, and the colorful swirl of fish was best appreciated when there was sunlight to catch on their scales.

There was also the poetic twist of the pond being where his wedding band had found its resting place. He'd forgotten how its weight had once felt around his finger, but he occasionally still sought its smooth shape inside his pocket. He would probably forget that too over time.

"Congratulations," he said suddenly. Remembering. Although he could not yet look her in the eye. "I heard you've remarried. Your parents must be pleased." Too bitter? Probably not bitter enough. There was a taste in his mouth he wanted to spit out, a recent wound deep inside that had been leaking all this time and he only noticed now.

"They certainly are that," Anna said, and the Good Daughter veneer was gone, stripped away by his words to leave her soft and open and unprotected. She wasted no time in leveling the playing field though: "They would be, seeing how I'm with child."

His gaze swung towards her, the needle to her north, seeing her fully for the first time since their separation. She was exactly as he remembered. Leaf-eyed, gold-crowned, and rose-lipped. So many times he'd put her in poetry—in the most effusive, flowery language he could weave together, just to make her laugh.

"Chris! Am I a person or a plant? Hold on, I think you meant to give this ring to that rosebush over there, and I wish you two all the happiness in the world."

There was little mirth in her now, smile fading from her face.

"Congratulations," he repeated at the same time that she said, "I'm sorry."

They parried each other and fell back. Chris didn't even want to be fighting. Did this count as fighting? If there was a sword in her hand he wouldn't hesitate to throw himself on it.

"There's nothing you need to apologize for," he told her. Soft, softly, hide the steel. If a blade hung between them then better for the edge to be facing him. He'd always thought that way.

"No," Anna said, sharp at first, and then gentle. "No, I really must apologize. I was the one who said we should end it. I gave up on you first."

"You didn't have a choice. If anything, I'm the one who failed you."

She got to her feet, one hand resting low over her still-flat belly, and the reality of what she'd said pried open the bleak, empty space that had been wintering inside him since the day the doctor had looked him in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, but…"

Anna crossed the room and came to stand before him. She was taller than most Hanano women, but slender enough to suit their style of fashion. Her visiting kimono was light blue with a pattern of grasses and dragonflies winding along the lower hem and down one sleeve. Both hands were folded in front of her, a brand new ring on her finger.

She was within arm's reach, but untouchable.

"You didn't fail me at all. Please don't blame yourself for something you couldn't control. I'm sure…" Her eyes closed, shoulders lifting with a deep breath, and from an unfathomable reserve of strength she dredged up a precious smile. "I'm sure if our places were reversed you'd be saying the exact same words to me."

"If it was you—" Rejection of the very idea lodged in his throat. "That would be different. Your family…"

"I know. That was my greatest fear, and it grew and grew inside me the more we tried and failed to conceive. And I was…" Her smile faltered, fragile, and dropped away. "I'm sorry, Chris. When I heard that it wasn't me, I was relieved." All at once her fingers clutched at each other, drawing toward the band of her ring and twisting it round and round. "I was relieved, and sick with heartache, and just—impulsive—I don't know. I've thought of so many excuses since then. None of them change the fact that I abandoned you when you needed me, and then I didn't have the courage to face you again. Could you ever forgive me for that?"

She looked at him with such sorrow shadowing the life in her eyes that he was the one who wanted to fall to his knees. Don't. Don't be sad. "You didn't have a choice," he repeated, barely a whisper. "You parents wouldn't have allowed it. You're their only child. Even you couldn't be that willful."

"…You won't blame me at all, will you? I did have a choice, though, and I chose to run away." She took a step forward. Chris took half a step back. Anna pressed on: "If it had been the other way around, if the doctor that day said I'd never be able to have a child, you wouldn't have left me for any reason."

"You can't say that for sure."

"I can. I can, because Chris, you wouldn't have given up. That's the kind of person you are." She raised a hand, brought it to hover in the air by his face and no further. Near enough that he could turn his cheek and feel the touch of her, but neither of them would close that final gap. It seemed like such a small distance, but they may as well have been standing on opposite cliffs where time and other forces had worn away the bridge between them. Slowly, her hand lowered. "I gave up on you, and for that I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you that. And also…"

Her hand found the place above his heart, and the frantic thing strained against the prison of his body to respond to her.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes meeting his and holding all the promise of a green summer that the parched world outside had been longing for. Too late for that now, with the season winding down to its dusty end. Too late for a lot of things. "Thank you for everything. You needn't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault, and not once have you failed me. Chris, you've only ever made me happy and given me all you had to give. That's more than enough, isn't it?"

He could have given more. He could have. Some echo inside him insisted, not enough, not enough, and yet the sound was a hollow one, bumping around a near-empty chamber. He still expected to stumble over clutter that wasn't there anymore. Bits and pieces remained, things that were probably here to stay. His weathered, enduring love for her. The deep well of his admiration of her. Little black thorns of regret and the scars they'd left on him. But the bulk of it, all of that mess, he was gradually letting go of and would someday forget completely. Maybe the wash of sadness over that fact would stay with him. Maybe not.

It was enough.

"In that case," he said, and the words flowed easier than he thought they would, "I must thank you as well. You say you ran away but you're the one who came all the way here. Come to think of it, you always did prefer to make the first move."

The surprised smile that bloomed to life on her face was another thing he'd keep with him. She should always be that delighted. "That's right, and I used to always sneak out to buy your time, didn't I? Mother and Father tried to curb my spending money to try and stop me. Once I had to sell some jewelry and about three inches of hair to afford you."

He remembered her telling him about the jewelry. Not the other part, though. "…Please tell me you're joking."

"What? Hair grows back." She patted the back of her head where all her exotic blonde locks were pinned up. "The emeralds, though, I never saw those again. But speaking of such things…" Her hand slipped into the pocket of her sleeve and came out with a carved box that fit in the center of her palm. Its corners were worn and rounded where her hand closed around it, opening the lid.

The gleam inside was all that Chris needed to see. A pang went off in his chest, just once, and then faded into an ache that had to be endured.

Anna's fingers rubbed over the edges of the box, her gaze lowered to its contents. "I couldn't bring myself to part with it. But now that I… well. It just wouldn't be appropriate to hold onto." Her face lifted and she put on her most society-bland smile. "Would you be burdened if I asked you to take it back?"

There was a time very recently when he might have lied and said no. "Yes, I would," he said instead.

The corner of her mouth furled into a wry twist. "I though as much. At least you were honest." She sighed and turned the box around in her hand. "I don't want to sell it, but…"

"I dropped mine."

"Dropped?"

Chris felt his lips twitch. He covered his mouth with his hand and pretended to study the floor. "Yes. Right there in the pond, in fact."

"You just dropped your—Chris, really!"

"It was an accident, I swear. I couldn't throw mine away either. I was thinking about it, then Sawamura barged in unexpectedly, and next thing I knew it was gone whether I liked it or not."

The story had the ring of a classic to it, a moment to be immortalized in repeat tellings. A moment of significance, or so one would think. Chris wasn't sure. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when something had shifted. It might have been then. It might have been later, the day after the festival. Or earlier, when he first returned to Seidou. Or maybe it was a process of everything combined, and one way or another, the same loudmouth, disastrous, wild-hearted kid managed to be at the center of it all.

He once wondered if he'd come to regret accepting Rei's request to come train the new apprentice, and he'd spent weeks prematurely resigned to that exact fate. Resigned to whatever miserable existence he could scrape together after that wintry day when he'd learned that he and Anna would never be able to have a child, and after bending to their daughter's will to marry for love that was the one thing the Blackwoods would not abide. Anna had said to him, "This is as far as we can go, so let's stop now. It's for the best, see? I can't—I have to—this is the end for us." And he'd simply said yes, and let her go. That winter the cold had snuck inside him and stayed there, desolate and damnably infertile, and even after the seasons changed he'd been numb to all attempts to bring him out of that self-imposed wasteland.

But hope, it turned out, was the hardiest of seeds. Hope could survive on anything. On desperation. On frustration. Or even on the blood of his still-beating heart, warm in spite of everything he'd thought.

Chris didn't have to worry about regrets. Coming back to Seidou was the best decision he'd made in years.

The lid of the box clicked shut and disappeared back into Anna's sleeve, leaving only the delicate circle of a matching wedding band nestled in her open hand. It was plain for someone of her station; warm rose gold engraved with a leaf pattern, singular and alone. Nothing like the matched set of yellow flash and diamond glitter adorning her finger now. But simple and different had been the way she'd wanted back then.

"Well," she said, smiling fondly down at the ring before closing her hand around it. "They originally came as a pair, so it would be a shame to keep them separated, don't you think?"

With deliberate slowness, her arm dropped to her side and carefully swung. Her fingers opened. The ring made a gentle arc tumbling through the air, and some tiny, wistful part of Chris caught on the end to trail along with it. Anna's aim proved true, and the ring dropped out of sight into the water with a faint and final-sounding plash.

"…That can't be good for the fish," Chris said once the last ripple smoothed flat across the surface. A morbid image of two carp floating belly-up in the pond crossed his mind.

"Surely they wouldn't eat…? Oh, but think of the poetry if that happened. 'The Love Suicides of the Carp.' It would make for such good theater."

"With a title like that, would it be a tragedy or a comedy?"

"Hmm…" Anna tapped her cheek with a finger and sent Chris a sidelong glance. "Why not both? I like a serious story with a happy ending. What do you think?"

Chris had never cared much for those overly dramatic double-suicide plays to start.

"I think I agree with you, Mrs. Anna."

Early afternoon was the slow and simmering part of the day, and the point where Sawamura's concentration suffered the most. He no longer attempted to escape at every opportunity, but had instead developed the opposite problem.

"Sawamura, it's time for a break."

"Wait, wait, I've almost got this!" Sawamura bent over a half-finished sheet of Esteren letters, uppercase and lowercase, all in rows along the paper. They'd started out in neat, purposeful strokes, but got messier down the line.

Chris closed his notebook and tapped the spine against Sawamura's head. "Don't rush. Pacing yourself is also something you have to learn to do. Fifteen minutes, go walk around for a bit and clear your head."

"Yes, sensei! Understood!" He capped his pen in a swift motion and didn't leave the desk a total disaster when he left it. "Walk" of course meant "run" to Sawamura, though at the last minute his hand caught on the frame of the door and he pulled just his head and shoulders back into view. "I'm gonna swing by the kitchen. Is there anything I can get for you while I'm there?"

His etiquette needed fine-tuning, but that earnest expression and polite readiness to please would carry him far by itself. Chris thumbed to the next page of his notebook but refrained from opening it just yet. No sense in making Sawamura sweat when he was supposed to be taking a break. On the other hand, impromptu observation of how he served refreshments wouldn't hurt. "Yes, I could use a drink, thank you."

"Okay! I'll be right back!"

"Take your time," Chris said, although he wasn't sure if Sawamura heard it, halfway down the hall already. Everything was a race or a contest when you were that young and impetuous and had something to prove. Chris could guide, but he couldn't—wouldn't—try to stop him. Sawamura was at his best when he was looking forward and charging straight ahead, eyes alight with rare courage and wearing a pure heart to match on his sleeve. Before Chris knew it, instead of watching from a standstill he was trying to keep up. That ability to move people was rarest of all.

Chris owed a lot to Seidou and Sawamura. That was nothing new; a courtesan's life revolved around learning and paying back debts. It was a bit like starting over, getting a second chance. Hopefully with a happier ending this time around.

("I wish you happiness," Anna had said when he saw her off at the gate.

She'd said, "Thank you."

And also, "Take care."

And lastly, "Goodbye.")

Fifteen minutes was what he'd told Sawamura. Chris could use the time to unwind as well.

He left the western pavilion; it was too empty and abandoned without Sawamura's immediate presence, and Chris was no ghost haunting the premises alone. Not anymore. Gentle noise from the east side drew him to the willow garden, his favorite spot, and through one of the open windows on the second floor a phonograph could be heard playing a popular record. The singer was a Hanano woman, so it probably belonged to either Kenjirou or Nori. Wasn't Nori first-tier now? Chris hadn't congratulated him yet. He would have to do so later. He needed to discuss with Nori anyway, and Kenjirou too, since it would soon be time to begin Sawamura's lessons in traditional dance and calligraphy. He'd already made a note that a tarp would be needed along with the ink and brush for the latter.

A breeze glided through the garden, shivering through the willow's leafy spill of branches and chasing the worst of the heat away. Harvest Moon was fast approaching, not that there would be much crop yield from the countryside after the long, dry year they'd had. Water and food expenses in the city just kept increasing. All the courtesan houses, Seidou included, were feeling the strain on their budgets as they tried to maintain a business that promised extravagance and carefree entertainment. Given the conditions, Chris doubted any of the other houses would have taken on two new apprentices who came calling just last month.

Other managers didn't have Rei's eye for talent, though. She'd chosen well with Sawamura and Kominato. And if Chris' suspicions were correct, she just might return home from her mysterious northern trip with another surprise.

Seidou was going to be a busy place as the weather cooled down.

It was already cooling down, willow leaves rustling as the wind picked up and the sound of bell chimes rang out like a scatter of glassy, tinkling alarms. Clouds ushered in overhead and the light dimmed, growing dark, until the whole sky was thick with them.

Chris watched with bated breath, stepping to the edge of the veranda to better see how the shift and flow from above made the heavens come alive. Pale where the sun filtered through one minute, then dark and heavy the next. The smoky plumes gathered together and dissipated in a constant roil.

Then the air changed. A flicker of white light briefly lined the massive cloud shapes forming in the sky, throwing out a signal. Seconds later the answer came in a mountainous rumble.

Shutters opened and footsteps approached. The music of the phonograph had stopped.

When the shower of rain finally came down it was met with upturned faces, probably thousands throughout the entire city. Chris could distantly hear celebratory cheering. And then not so distant.

The walkway vibrated with racing feet and Sawamura exploded out into the garden with a great leap and a cry that ripped hoarse from his throat. He hit the ground laughing, arms spread wide, barefoot in the grass, and getting soaked as he staggered around in a wavering circle. Rain plastered his hair to his skin and droplets shook loose from his head when he turned sharply to where Kuramochi was calling out to him. The guard wore a white, toothy grin, leaning on the railing of one of the covered corridors, but all it took was a few words from Sawamura to make him vault over and he was on the kid in a flash, the two of them going down in a wet, wrestling tangle.

On the other side of the garden Kazuya leaned against a post and kept dry while he observed the shenanigans. He made a remark that had Sawamura puffing and sputtering, and the tussle with Kuramochi came to an abrupt end when both waterlogged boys shared a look. They turned that look on Kazuya, who saw which way the wind was blowing and made a strategic retreat indoors.

Chris hadn't realized he was laughing until Sawamura's head whipped in his direction, eyes huge and searching with his whole body on alert like a keen hunting hound. It wasn't loud laughter, not even close, and Chris stopped once Sawamura's bright, bright gaze landed on him, but that didn't put off the delighted grin sitting triumphant on the boy's face.

"Sensei, it's raining!"

"I can see that." He was smiling. It was impossible not to.

Sawamura rolled up onto his feet and shoved his water-slick bangs off his face. He was completely drenched, and thrilled about it. "Come on out, it feels really great!"

Chris lifted a hand, palm-up, and stretched it out far enough to feel the splash of raindrops on his skin. It kept coming down steady and hard. Cool and refreshing.

He motioned with his fingers and Sawamura obediently scampered over.

"You should dry off before you catch cold."

"I never get sick," Sawamura said proudly.

A quiet huff that may have been another laugh snuck away from Chris, and Sawamura looked infinitely pleased to hear it. "Fair enough," Chris said, and then added, "but I might."

He stepped out from under the overhang and put himself at the mercy of the rain. The patter of it filled his ears, and Sawamura's voice filled his empty spaces, promising, "If you get sick, I'll take care of you!"

"Better not," said Kuramochi, jostling Sawamura's side. "You'd probably end up killing him."

"I would never!"

"Have you met you?"

"Thank you, Sawamura." That was all it took to steal Sawamura's glowing, undivided attention again. Some part of Chris thought, Oh… that could be a problem later. But at this very moment he decided not to care. He could bask if he wanted. He could be happy if he wanted.

"Thank you," he said again, letting the rain wash clean and clear over him. Chris thought of starting over, of second chances. He thought of his heart beating warm inside him.

He still thought a little about the things he'd lost.

And a lot about what he still had.