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    Summary

    Ryomen-sama’s bottom set of hands came up to part Yūji’s kimono further, but did not push the layers from his shoulders. Instead, he pinched the brightly coloured silk fabric between his fingers.

    “Is this a favorite of yours?” Ryomen-sama asked.

    Yuuji turned his head to the side to look at his shoulder where the kimono hung. The underlayer was a simple, thin sheet of white silk. The kimono itself though was a costly green silk of emerald. It was patterned with golden rice grain and pink sakura petals. When Yūji shifted, the kimono would ripple to give the illusion of wind tugging on the grain and flowers. It had been one of the first kimonos he’d purchased after becoming a yobidashi tsukemawarashi ranked oiran, and was indeed one of his favorites.

    “It is.”

    “Then I will apologize ahead of time for its possible - probable - ruin. I promise to give you another one,” Ryomen-sama said.

    “What do you me-” Yūji began but found himself breathless as he was lifted by Ryomen-sama as if he was weightless. They didn’t go far as Ryomen-sama maneuvered them onto the raised futon.

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