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Kamisato Ayato was a man of many talents and none of them included taking time off. The very idea of a month-long vacation was laughable. And yet for the next month, his appointment calendar was pointedly blank. Five days ago, it had been crammed with appointments, meetings, personal training. His occasional meals with Thoma and Ayaka had been the highlight, a reward for his hard work. Now… well, surely they didn’t actually want him dining at home every evening? That would be far too rich a mixture. It might even inspire him to start cooking again, despite Furuta’s lectures on staying out of the kitchen.
His elderly butler had joined the rest of the staff in their loving rebellion. She’d told him with tears in her eyes that he needed to remember how to relax. Personally, he found cooking very relaxing, but he was able to concede that it did tend to distress the rest of his household. And he’d overheard the staff talking about how much busier they’d be while the Qixing was visiting and Ayato was ‘recovering’. No, he certainly couldn’t return to his kitchen experiments now. There was a time and a place for fun and this was not, apparently, it.
Hah! Recovering. They were fools, all of them. But he’d promised Ayaka that he would let her handle the Commission business for a month. Even if he’d made it under duress, he certainly wouldn’t go back on that promise without a calligraphed and possibly tearstained invitation.
Instead he stood outside the estate and looked down at Inazuma City, wondering how else he might amuse himself. Some members of Yae Miko’s Special Commission For Revitalizing The Nation had arrived that morning, but when he’d tried to stealthily join the welcome delegation, he’d been thwarted by his own ninja. Even his most sardonic remarks about the nature of loyalty had met with only stony expressions. So while he had every intention of playing a few games with Lady Ningguang while she was visiting, he felt it was best for his dignity if he made an earnest attempt to relax for at least a few days. But how exactly did one go about it…
His gaze swept across the city, recognizing the various sites where he’d had business in the past and might have had business in the upcoming weeks. Regretfully, he rejected them all. Then his eyes lighted on one place where he hadn’t been in ages…
Ah yes, the hot springs!
***
The Doorkeeper of the Royal Onsen stood alertly at her post. The fine day brought with it a pleasant sense of anticipation. Important guests from abroad had disembarked that morning. The Manager had spoken with some reservations about the possibility of foreign dignitaries being allowed in the exclusive hot springs, but the Doorkeeper thought it would be an excellent way to liven up the humdrum of her daily job. Rather treacherously, she often wished for a little more excitement around the peaceful retreat.
Possibly, she will regret this wish.
A tall, finely dressed man with pale hair strolled toward her. She recognized him instantly, of course, and bowed deeply as he approached. “Commissioner Kamisato!”
He smiled at her, but brought his finger to his lips. “Shh. I’m afraid you’re mistaking me for somebody else.”
The doorkeeper stared at him in confusion, her hand still on the heavy door’s handle. The Kamisato clan didn’t have many lookalikes in Inazuma City and she’d been certain this was the Commissioner. No, she remained certain. What could it mean that he—
While she was puzzling this out, he reached past her, opened the door and walked within.
“Sir—” she began, but he was gone.
That was… probably all right? Commissioner Kamisato was definitely allowed to use the Royal Onsen but if Commissioner Kamisato said he wasn’t Commissioner Kamisato… shouldn’t she believe him?
It had been a long time since he’d come to visit them, and as far as the Doorkeeper recalled, he’d never come alone. Perhaps it wasn’t Commissioner Kamisato after all?
What in the world was he doing here?
Nervously, the Doorkeeper began to chew on a piece of hair. She didn’t notice when one of the ninja slipped right past her. Nobody ever did.
Inside. It had been ten minutes since Kamisato Ayato had been shown to a private room, and the staff of the Royal Onsen were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The First Receptionist said nervously to the Manager, “He did say he wasn’t expecting anybody to join him, ma’am.”
Manager Mikawa, her fingers toying with her glasses, said, “Then what is he doing here?”
The Assistant Manager returned from discreet enquiries within the Tenryou Commission outside and announced, “The soldiers say he’s taking some time off.”
“Maybe he’s just here to take a bath, boss?” suggested an upstart Assistant Gardener.
If anything, that suggestion made the Manager even more anxious. “And how likely is that? This is Kamisato Ayato we're speaking of. Have you ever heard of him taking a long soak before?"
The Junior Assistant Manager offered, "No, but if his health is bad--"
“Shut up,” snapped the Manager. “Sorry, I’m sorry. We have to be prepared. He has some agenda here, I feel it in my bones. We must make sure to accommodate him without letting the atmosphere of the onsen be tainted.”
At that point, one of the bells behind the reception desk tinkled and everybody jumped. The Second Receptionist whispered, “It’s him.”
“It begins,” said the Manager grimly. She cast about and her gaze settled on one of the Assistant Housekeepers slumped in a corner. “You, girl, you’re clearly not busy. Go see what he wants and return immediately.”
“Yes ma’am,” she said meekly and trotted up to the Cypress Room. It was not a difficult journey, but all the same, it was more than fifteen minutes before she returned. By then, the congregation of interested staff had been chased to the employee changing room by the Assistant Manager, who felt like she was the only one who recalled that the onsen had other guests both expected and on the premises.
The Assistant Housekeeper walked into the changing room. Her face was flushed and tearstained, while her eyes sparkled.
“Where have you been, girl?” the Manager demanded. “I told you to inform me before—”
Defiantly, the young woman said, “The Commissioner—I mean, the guest in the Cypress Room—he’s told me to take the rest of the day off.”
“What—”
The Assistant Gardener burst out with, “Are you all right? Did he… did he do anything to you?”
She edged past the management and went to her locker. “He asked me about my day, and my work here. Then he told me that I seemed tired, that it wasn’t healthy to work while tired, and he wanted me to go home and rest immediately so I could show him a fresh face tomorrow.”
The Manager ground her teeth, recognizing the mixture of guilt and determination in the girl’s face, and somewhat shocked by it. She’d always been such a biddable employee, too. “Yes, go, go. But tell us what he wanted first.”
“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far. Excuse me for leaving before you!” She bowed and then ran out the door.
“Now what?” said the Handyman, as a bell labeled Cypress Room began to jingle on the wall.
“I can go and ask him next!” volunteered the Assistant Gardener.
“No. Assistant Manager, you go. I know I can expect at least some employment loyalty with you.”
The Assistant Manager mostly kept her smug smile on the inside as she departed the changing room. But when she returned only a few moments later, she looked perplexed. Then she fixed her gaze on the lounging Assistant Gardener. “You, go and buy some craft paper and glue for the Commission—the guest in the Cypress Room. I will deliver it once you do.”
She met the Manager’s gaze and shrugged. It was an odd request, but by no means the oddest one they’d had to handle. The hierarchical nature of the onsen’s entrance rules meant their most common guests were the most privileged and spoiled of the Shogunate. This request merely suggested Ayato was no different.
Seven minutes after the craft paper and glue were delivered, he asked for yarn and a stationary knife. Ten minutes after receiving that, the bell rang again. By now, some of the Manager’s tension had bled off and the day was drifting toward routine operations again. The Second Receptionist went to go hear his latest request.
Once again, she was gone for over a quarter of an hour. When she returned, her eyes were dancing and she was still chuckling to herself.
“Well?” demanded the Manager, refolding the towels behind the desk.
“He…” the Second Receptionist broke into giggles before she managed to say, “He’s been making papercraft disguises in there.” She mimed stroking her chin. “A beard of yarn and twists of paper. Some ridiculous eyeglasses. False nose—” She started laughing helplessly again, leaning against the wall. “First he had me put my thumb on a string. Then he wanted to model them for me. To get my opinion.”
“What,” said the Assistant Manager, dazedly. Was this the Yashiro Commissioner? Could it be a bake-danuki prank of some sort?
The Manager said icily, “I do hope you managed to restrain this unseemly laughter while with him, at least?”
“No, ma’am,” confessed the Second Receptionist, although her eyes were still twinkling. “I did try, at first, but he kept playacting in such outrageous ways that I couldn’t help myself. I think it pleased him, though, because then he threw the whole set of disguises in the trash, thanked me, and sent me away.
On cue, the bell jingled again. The Assistant Manager pulled herself together and sighed. “I shall see to him.”
Once again, she trod up the stairs to the Cypress Room and scratched at the door. When bid, she slid it open and stepped in. Ayato lounged on the napping couch, the remnants of his craft work neatly piled on the writing table in the corner.
“Ah, Assistant Manager. Tell me, how long have I been here?”
“Perhaps an hour and a half, my lord?”
He looked disappointed. “Oh, is that all? I thought I took a nice long nap, but I suppose I was only fooling myself.”
“We can arrange for a musician—” the Assistant Manager began to offer, but he waved her to silence.
“No, no. I have no real interest in sleeping, I just thought I’d give it a try on this lovely nap couch of yours. I should really see about getting a few of those for—ahaha, but I’m not supposed to be thinking of work.” He waved a roguish finger at the Assistant Manager, as if she’d brought up the subject.
“Then how may I serve you now, my lord?” she asked patiently.
“I would like a list of every guest present in the establishment at this time, please.” His voice was still pleasant, but there was no question that this was an order.
Unfortunately, it was an order she absolutely could not obey. The point of choosing a private room was the privacy, after all; this was in the training manual. “I apologize, sir, but we cannot disclose—” As his eyes narrowed and his smile widened, she lost her nerve for a moment.
At the same time, she became aware of somebody behind her in the entrance. When she looked over her shoulder, a ninja was kneeling behind her, raising a rolled scroll in both hands.
“Take it, miss,” he said in a hushed voice. “It’s best you do as he asks.”
Bemused, the Assistant Manager picked up the scroll, her thoughts speeding. The roll was tied with a basic black string, and it wasn’t the onsen’s paper. Different texture, different smell. If it wasn’t their stationary, then technically, the onsen wasn’t at fault for its contents. Thus she could hand it over, right? Yes, that would sidestep any direct blame. And maybe, just maybe, it'd keep that ninja behind her and Ayato’s ever-widening smile from coming any closer.
Bowing crisply, she snapped her wrist out, offering the scroll on her palm as if it was a platter. Smoothly, she said, “I understand that your lordship would like to see this.”
“Excellent! Now let me see….” Ayato unrolled the scroll. After only a glance, he began to rattle off instructions. “Deliver your best sealed sake to the Bamboo, Wisteria, and Chrysanthemum rooms. Send a fruit basket to the Maple, Pine, Yuzu, and Willow rooms, and deliver nothing to the Plum and Orchid rooms. When they ask who sent the gift, you may not use any part of my name and rank, but otherwise say what you want, when you want. I won’t mind if you hold out for a good price. Oh—and when old Lord Nakamura comes in later today—he’s due today, yes? Send him the sake, the fruit, a musician, and my fond and personal regards.”
She was the Assistant Manager, so she memorized the order instantly. She was also human, so she opened her mouth a few times and failed to find the right words for this strange instruction.
“Say, Yes, sir,” prompted the ninja behind her, in a kind voice. “Best move quickly.”
The Assistant Manager gave up. “Yes sir!” she repeated, and then fled back down to the staff room.
“Oh no, now what?” demanded the Manager.
In a hollow voice, the Assistant Manager relayed Lord Ayato’s orders. Then she walked to the back of the changing room, reached behind the hand washing station, and pulled out a flask. After a single gulp, she capped it and put it back again.
The Handyman protested, “Hey aren’t you going to share? Oof.”
The First Receptionist, who had elbowed him, nodded at the Manager, who wasn’t paying any attention to the on-the-job drinking. Her gaze had gone far away and her hands were clasping and unclasping. Then she announced, “I’m going to speak to him. Start getting the order together while I’m gone.”
She marched out of the room and up the stairs.
The Assistant Manager, sitting down on a bench, pushed herself to her feet again. “You heard the boss. But let’s prepare a small gift for the guests he’s excluding as well, just in case.”
When the Manager scratched at the door, the ninja opened it and bowed her in. Ayato was… folding towels? Yes, somehow he’d acquired a much larger stack of towels than a private room started with, and he was… folding them. In shapes.
“Ah, Manager,” he said, setting aside a half-folded face towel. “Is there a problem with my order?”
Steeling herself, Mikawa Akane spoke bluntly. “Sir, are you trying to incite violence on these premises?”
Smiling, Ayato said, “What a thought! Whyever would some friendly gifts lead to violence?”
“Because some of the people you’ve sent sake to are said to be your political rivals, and one of those you’re snubbing is said to be your old friend,” she explained, and wished she didn’t feel like she was presenting a lesson to her schoolteacher. Ayato was almost half her age, for the Archon’s sake.
He nodded. “I see, I see. Well, I assure you, I’m merely celebrating my first day off in some time. As for those overlooked… you see, my personal budget only stretches so far. I’m sure you understand. Oh, by the way, I’ll be heading to the communal bath soon, just in case you need anything else clarified.”
The ninja, leaning against the wall beside the door with his arms crossed, said in an under voice, “Perhaps it might be best if you hide their swords.”
This was not the reassurance the Manager had been seeking. For a moment she stood there, twisting her hands, trying to decide what to do. She was leaning toward sending all the junior staff home for their own safety, along with the Assistant Manager, whose wife was expecting a baby.
And then Ayato suddenly stood directly in front of her. In an unexpectedly gentle voice he said, “Don’t be desperate, Manager. I swear there will be no bloodshed. And if you wish, you may inform the other guests that their gift was sent by somebody in the communal baths.”
Too close, too close! Lord Kamisato Ayato was too tall, too close, smiling at her again, speaking to her so gently, swearing to her—she didn’t know how to react. This was too strange.
And strangest of all was how she almost trusted his vow. She certainly wasn’t getting anything better from him. “Yes sir.” After bowing her head (because he was too close to pay proper respects), she retreated from his presence.
As the ninja closed the door behind her, Ayato said in a very different tone of voice, “You’re surprisingly near to hand for such a disloyal cat. But I see it’s only to bite me again.”
“We are only doing as ordered, my lord,” his servant said calmly.
“Tch. Not by me.” The Shuumatsuban was supposed to report only to the clan head, but he’d commanded them to assist Ayaka and Thoma when required, and look at how he was being repaid for that.
“No, sir.” The ninja met Ayato’s gaze with unruffled calm.
Testily, he said, “I still live, you know.”
“And we all hope for that to remain true for a long time, sir.” As Ayato’s smile grew nasty, the ninja added, “Our lady remembers her father’s death still, my lord.”
Ayato sighed and looked out the window at the little walled in courtyard. “Yes. I understood that.”
After a moment of silence, he sighed again, more dramatically. “Now I must go mingle with my ‘peers.’” He exchanged a glance with his ninja, rich in subtext only his servants could read.
Although Ayato was quite competent at swordplay, he was not a ninja himself. When he was a boy, he’d considered studying among them, but he’d dismissed the idea after only a little thought. If Ayaka had been the elder and he the younger… but no. Instead he’d focused his talents in other directions, and mastered the art of listening, of negotiation, and a dozen other things that were quite like ninjutsu, if on a completely different playing field. But he understood his ninja very well; and they understood him in turn.
“Enjoy yourself, my lord,” said the ninja politely. And then, because Ayaka had instructed them to sometimes provide Ayato what he needed instead of what he wanted, he added sardonically, “Perhaps you can make a new friend.”
This earned him a reproachful look. “Hissing at me now? Tsk tsk.” With that the young master passed the ninja and strolled down the corridor. Only then did the ninja allow a hint of a smile to lighten his impassive face. Despite Ayato's complaints since the staff revolt, he hadn’t yet revoked his order for the Shuumatsuban to serve Ayaka as they did him.
There was one noble already in the expansive communal bath. Ayato recognized him as the guest in the Maple room, but instead of greeting him, he headed immediately to the corner where the two attendants partially hid their table of towels and bath salts behind a folding screen.
As he approached, one of the two young men said hesitantly, “My lord?”
Ayato brought his finger to his lips, smiling, and then said softly, “Recently I heard mention of a legendary martial art secretly studied in this onsen.”
The two attendants looked at each other and then the first one said, “There’s no such thing, sir.”
“What?” Ayato’s voice remained soft, but his surprise was palpable. “No, I’m sure I’ve heard of it. I think it’s called toweljutsu?”
“Uh…” said the second attendant, bewildered. “Towel… jutsu?”
The first attendant, however, brightened, “Sometimes after hours I flick Miki—”
“No, no,” said Ayato, his voice still low but his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Toweljutsu is the mystic art of towel-folding. It’s said that a master can make armies surrender with just with a single perfectly executed crab fold.”
The first attendant stifled a snicker, while the second one said flatly, “Really, sir.”
“Yes, yes! I was enthralled when I found out, and I’ve been practicing now and then on my own time. I can see the two of you are young masters.” He gestured at the table, which had several stacks of plain thirds-folded towels. “Might I show you my skills, as small as they are?”
“Wouldn’t you rather enjoy a soak, sir?” suggested the second attendant, in a hopeless kind of way.
The first attendant, grinning, said, “Please do, my lord.”
Ayato ignored the second attendant and said, “Oh, there’s no need to address me so formally. Here, we are both students, are we not?”
“You bet, my lord,” said the first attendant, and offered him a body towel.
“Just so,” murmured Ayato, obviously pleased his request for informality had been both acknowledged and ignored. Then, with an impressive degree of flair and aplomb for somebody who had never folded a towel before that day, he shaped one into a goldfish.
“Hey, I don’t know that one,” said the first attendant, interestedly. Then he nudged his companion. “He does a really wonderful bake-danuki though.”
Ayato turned the full force of his attention on the recalcitrant second attendant. “Oh? Would you favor this humble learner with a demonstration?”
The second attendant gave in, unable to resist the chance to show off. “It takes three towels, though. Give me a hand towel, you.”
And thus an agreeable quarter hour was spent, only ending when a third noble sauntered into the chamber, with the flushed cheeks of a man who had been drinking good sake. At that point, assessing the other guests, Ayato regretfully bid his toys farewell in order to socialize with his ‘peers.’ He’d made a promise to the Manager, after all. No blood must be spilled as a result of today. It was a good thing he found such constraints an inspiration instead of a limitation.
In the changing room, the ninja loitered near the entrance, once again leaning casually against the wall. Nobody paid him any attention. The Assistant Manager was standing on her toes, looking through the high window of the door so she could observe the various guests, one at a time, emerge from their room and head to the communal bath. She announced each one to the rest of the room, rather like giving a countdown.
The First Receptionist paced back and forth. “I’ve looked it up. We’re supposed to get a signed message when he wants to do an operation here.”
The Assistant Manager said, “He never performs an operation here!”
“You know what I mean!” snapped the First Receptionist.
“No, I do not! What I know is that Lord Ayato is in there provoking a catastrophe right now! And there goes our Chrysanthemum guest. That’s a full sweep. We’re doomed.”
Without bothering to hide his amusement, the ninja said, “This is an onsen. You all should relax a bit more.”
The Manager looked up from doing some quick accounting to glare at him. “You! If you’re so confident all will be well, why did you suggest I have their swords gathered up?”
“For your own peace of mind? Did you do it, by the way?”
The Manager nodded at the excited Assistant Gardener, who slipped past the Assistant Manager out the door. “It is occurring now. We’ll give them some TLC and return them as the guests leave.”
“And don’t you feel safer?” inquired the ninja.
Sourly, the Manager said, “Perhaps I’ll just let you explain to each of them, shall I?” The ninja’s laugh was a deeply unsatisfactory answer.
But Ayato kept his promise. No blood was spilled that day, not even when one of the drunker lords stumbled on his way back to his room from the party in the communal bath. True, he coaxed the Assistant Manager into splitting a final bottle of sake with the upper staff of the onsen. Yes, two engagements and a strategic adoption were formally announced before the sun set (and one engagement was then broken off the next morning). It was rumored that three of the old goats had sworn blood brotherhood to each other while in their cups, but nobody would admit to it the next day. And the cheerful first attendant reported that Ayato smiled the whole time. He certainly left behind a very generous tip. And on the way out the door, he praised the onsen and promised to return the next day.
Thus it was that before dawn the next day, the Assistant Manager was knocking on the door of the physician who attended the Yashiro Commission. Thus it was that the Manager regretfully showed Lord Kamisato Ayato the prescription from his doctor forbidding him from enjoying onsen more than once a week at most. That made him lose his smile for a few moments. He really looked quite sad, like a little boy who’d lost his ball. But then he brightened. “It is lucky for me that the physician just happened to come by before you opened. Otherwise who knows what would have occurred?”
The Manager gave him an impassive stare.
He gazed back at her with liquid eyes, before turning away with a chuckle. As he strolled out of the courtyard, he said to his ninja, “Thoma has mentioned a tea shop where many young ladies spend their afternoons. I think I’d like to visit.”
That evening, another engagement was cancelled, a duel was held, and a secret parentage was revealed. The day after that, Ayato attended a garden party. The day after that, a ball. And then there was the tour of the Commercial District…
The day after that, Ayaka escorted her brother to the Alcor, and then waved and waved until the ship was out of sight.
“I feel a little bad for Captain Beidou,” said Thoma, beside her.
Ayaka said, “You gave her the money, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then she’s been well-paid to take on this risk. Besides, he promised me he’d behave.”
“True,” Thoma conceded. Ayato’s promises to Ayaka were sacrosanct, as long as he couldn’t find any loopholes. He wondered if she’d left him any.
Oh well. For now, it wasn’t his problem. And the Special Committee for Revitalizing the Nation would finally be able to stop putting out fires and get to work.