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“The report you asked for, Almighty Shogun. Negotiations with Watatsumi are progressing well.” Sara cast her gaze down in reverence, eyes focused on the familiar tatami flooring rather than her archon before her. The scroll in her outstretched hand had been carefully reviewed to ensure it contained all the necessary information—the days of the Shogun being misled and kept ignorant to the state of her nation were over. Sara made a vow to see to that personally. Not in any attempt to restore the Kujou name, an identity that held no worth to her any longer, but merely out of loyalty. Serving the Shogun was her duty, her passion.
Some might say too much passion, if they knew of the meticulously upheld little shrine in Sara’s living quarters, figurines and other trinkets in her Shogun’s likeness arranged prettily and frequently wiped clean of any dust and debris. They might also judge the way her visage lingered in Sara’s mind now, as if burned into the backs of her eyelids. Those lilac eyes looked warmer than Sara had ever seen them, a small, rarely displayed smile playing at her lips. Sara could perfectly imagine every thread of her kimono sleeve as she reached out to take the scroll from her hand.
The scroll’s slight weight vanished, but with it came a new sensation. Soft, warm fingers brushed her skin. Just as quickly as it appeared though, it was gone.
“Thank you, Sara,” Raiden said. “I’m lucky to have such a reliable general.” When Sara dared to peer up from the dull tatami to meet her gaze, she found that same warmth lingering there, though there was no indication she had even noticed their hands touching. Of course she wouldn’t have. How foolish.
“On the contrary, I am lucky to be given the privilege of serving you.” Those words were uttered with shame boiling in her stomach, threatening to overflow. Sara was used to being awestruck by the little details of this woman—the soft locks of violet hair, the flawless, creamy skin, that adorable beauty mark on her face. Now, for the first time, she couldn’t stop staring at her hands. Raiden was a warrior, but no one would guess it looking at those delicate, unblemished hands, nails painted a soft shade of lavender. They were a stark contrast to Sara’s own scarred, calloused hands, untouched by any sort of cosmetics. How unworthy she was of being touched by a god.
Raiden laughed, a gentle, melodic sound. Sara’s face warmed, realizing it must have been something she said or did, yet the sound was so beautiful that she didn’t mind if she was being made fun of.
“There’s no need to constantly stand on ceremony when we’ve been working together for so long, don’t you think? At least when we’re alone. You can relax, Sara.” Her voice was candy-sweet as she cupped her cheek with one hand, observing Sara as one might observe a pet. Peace had sanded down her edges, cracked open her locked chest. Sara hadn’t realized this side of her existed until recently.
“If that is what you wish, Almighty Shogun, I will comply.”
“Relax.” Before Sara could reply, the same delicate hand that had captured her attention reached out to clasp her own, natural as could be. “It can be Ei in private, unless that’s too much for you.”
“No,” she breathed, still looking down at their interlocked fingers. “It’s not too much at all.”