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As Head Priestess of the Grand Narukami Shrine, Yae was often beseeched by one noble family or another to lead them in prayer. After all, it was only through her divinely-touched hands that their wishes could reach the Almighty Raiden Shogun.
As if.
Truthfully, after Ei had foolishly sealed herself inside that dreadful Plane of Euthymia, Yae was little better than a mortal child at contacting her. However, Inazuma was blind to their god’s folly, and the prayer requests kept rolling in. For the nation’s collective peace of mind – and to curry a generous donation to the shrine’s coffers – Yae would sometimes deign to accept a few of these requests.
Today was one such day.
A day where Yae had to wake up before the sun itself had risen, don that itchy old kosode, and watch as the Kujou Clan’s main family, their crème de la crème, stunk up her newly cleaned Torii gate with their uniform marching. How terribly boring they were, with such manufactured competence.
“Oh, Ei,” she remarked to no one but the bitterly cold morning air, “what hardships I endure in your absence.”
❀ ❀ ❀
After a couple centuries, the undertakings of this type of ceremony had become mere muscle memory for Yae. On another day, for another ceremony, she might ascribe to her actions a meaning and perform each movement with genuine and heartfelt intent. But for this loathsome family, who believed that it was their untidy army that served as the right hand of the Shogun, rather than her beautifully cultivated shrine?
Well, for them, the only thoughts that flew through her mind as she performed the purification ritual was:
Left. Right. Left.
As she worked, Yae indulged herself with the sight of such irksome people on their knees before her. She could the tweak the scene in her mind a little bit, discard the fact that she was being seen as a medium for Ei in this moment, and yes, there it was – a picture of gratifying submission.
With this image in mind, Yae scanned the parishioners in front of her with renewed vigor.
Soon, her gaze narrowed in on a little girl, sandwiched in between those two lanky Kujou boys. Her figure was still, as if cast in stone – a stark contrast to her twitching companions. Her head was serenely tilted, her eyes closed in obedient reverence, and her expression betrayed neither boredom nor irritation.
That girl was behaving like the perfect Kujou scion – wouldn’t it just be deliciously infuriating for Kujou Senior if his flawless little hatchling happened to flounder?
Yae smirked to herself. Yes, yes. It was all coming together in her mind now.
She would give the girl a prayer to recite from memory, something outdated and lengthy and positively archaic. When that child would inevitably falter on a verse, Yae would step in and tut, “Honestly, have you been teaching her anything at all? How do you expect to lead the Shogun’s army when you can’t even get a child to recite a simple prayer?”
Oh, how would Takayuki react to her foregone admonishment? Would his bloated face turn red in a flush of anger and humiliation, would he try haplessly to defend himself, or would he simply bow his head and accept her criticism while secretly seething on the inside?
Yae was ready to find out. “You there. Girl in the back. I need a demonstration of piety to ensure that this petition is delivered swiftly to the Almighty Shogun’s domain. Intonate for me ‘The Morning Prayer Given Underneath Perennial Blossoms’.”
Yae preened as the dawning light played on the wicked curve of her chin. “With haste.”
In response to her demand, the child did nothing more than tilt her head upwards. “Yes, Madam Guuji.”
Yae frowned slightly. The girl’s tone was unusually level-headed; a rarity for those opposing her in conversation.
Then the girl spoke.
…
She spoke accurately.
Yae searched for something – anything – to critique. A crucial mispronunciation, a forgotten word or even a hint of a lisp would do. But there was nothing. The norito was delivered perfectly.
How hideously unfair.
“…. With great humility, I have presented these statements.” The child bowed her head again and returned to obedient stillness.
Yae could see the smugness in Kujou Takayuki’s eyes. He was probably aware on some level of Yae’s trap, and that it had been foiled. Oh, how her stomach curled at the thought that she had incidentally done anything to feed his completely unearned ego.
“Adequate.” When Yae finally spoke, she made sure that her tone was neutral and level, betraying none of her original intentions.
She clapped her hands, bringing out the rest of shrine maidens, and ushered the Kujou Clan forwards to present their offerings to the Sacred Sakura.
The Kujou Clan, of course, marched past her in orderly single-file, with nary a look of appreciation or even curiosity thrown her way. When it was that girl’s turn to pass her, Yae noticed something new.
The child stunk of the mountains, of the forest, of a magic foreign to humankind.
She was Tengu.
Yae sneered to herself. Just great.
Years went by, and soon Yae forgot all about that obstinate little Tengu that had been taken in by the Kujou clan.
Almost.
You see, as a fox envoy, Yae never truly “forgot” anything. Some things, however – meaningless, boring things – got pushed back within her mind’s eye in favor of more pertinent matters. And it was in that manner that Yae forgot Kujou Sara.
Until she became a topic of discussion amongst her shrine maidens, that is.
“Did you hear?” whispered one, her red skirts bustling around her, and Yae’s ears instinctively twitched underneath the weight of her gold earrings. “Kujou Sara has been promoted to the position of General in the Shogun’s army.”
The second shrine maiden gasped. “That Tengu girl? But she’s so young!”
“I know,” conceded the first, “but I’ve heard that her diligence is unmatched by any of her peers.”
“Perhaps that’s just the way of the Youkai,” her companion spoke tentatively. “After all, Lady Yae – “
“ – Is standing right here,” Yae interrupted, having crept up behind them, unseen and unheard, using the power of electro. The dawdling pair broke apart from each other and looked up to Yae in fright.
She savored their looks of shock, the fear in their wide-blown eyes and gaping jaws. Ah, teasing shrine maidens – a well-worn hobby, but no less fun for the frequency with which she delighted in it. “Now, answer me this: is the Shogun’s army within the purview of this Shrine?”
“Uh – no, Lady Yae, but – “
“Correct. Now, then, for my second question: why are you discussing such unsightly matters on my mountain?” She grinned, and just for a second, let a singular canine morph into its more vulpine form. The shrine maidens would spend weeks questioning themselves on this matter – were Lady Yae’s teeth really that sharp, or had it just been a trick of the light? No matter how much they pondered, no concrete answer would come forth. “Do I really need to put such seasoned shrine maidens back on temizu-ya duty to relearn their piety?”
“No – I mean, yes, if you think it’s right, but – it was just – “
Yae turned swiftly on her heel, leaving the stuttering shrine maidens with naught but the afterimage of the swirling crimson trails of her dress. Very few people continued to be interesting once they reached that stage of stammering. She would get Kano Nana to dole out their punishments later – when it suited Yae to inform her, that is.
After all, Yae had found someone far more interesting to toy with.
❀ ❀ ❀
“I don’t understand,” little Sayu whined. That girl was such a whiner – it was almost too easy to rile her up. “Why do I have to do it?”
“Because the great and honorable Guuji Yae is asking you to.” Yae answered her query in such a manner that it became all too clear to Sayu how futile her resistance was, and the ears on her jumper seemed to wilt in tandem with the realization. How adorable.
“Now, I want this letter delivered promptly to Matsuda at 8:00 am, tomorrow. You can do that for your superior, can’t you, mujina?” Yae patted the top of Sayu’s head, knowing that the ninja would certainly not be able to fulfill her request.
That was what Yae wanted, after all. Sayu was laziest worker on the mountain, and rumor has it that Matsuda was the laziest retainer of the Kujou Clan. Their combined lethargy would result in the invitation reaching Kujou Sara’s desk around the time of the appointed meeting, perhaps even after. Then, Yae could scold the Tengu for her tardiness, and push and push until that composed face was as red as one of Mondstadt’s premier apple orchards.
❀ ❀ ❀
As the sun ascended towards its highest point in the sky, Yae waited attentively in front of the temple gate for her guest. However, no matter which cobblestone path she peered down, there was simply no one to be found.
Oh, what could have happened to delay the general?
Yae laughed to herself, finding delight in her own pandering. It was nearly noon, now, and it looked like her plan had worked. Time to head back into the shrine and await Kujou Sara’s arrival there – her prey’s embarrassment would be best savored with an audience, after all.
Yae turned around and –
“You requested my presence here, Guuji Yae?”
The newly appointed general stood in front her, not a hair out of place. Briefly, Yae spotted a glimpse of darkly feathered wings peeking out behind Kujou Sara’s shoulders, and then they were gone.
Oh, right. That girl was a Youkai and a vision holder too. It had been a while since Yae had found a being of such high pedigree to tease, so long that she overlooked the fact that crossing the terrain from Tenshukaku to Mt. Yougou would be an easy task for a Tengu warrior.
No matter. Yae tried to take the setback in stride. She had more than one trick up her sleeve.
“Yes, and I’m simply delighted that you could spare the time to meet me here today.” Yae sidled up to Kujou Sara, and the languid manner of her gait was all she needed to assert her dominance.
Sara bent down on one knee in respect, then rose again. “As am I.”
Yae took in the woman before her. Undoubtedly, she was much taller now. Handsomer too – though that grotesque mask the Tengu preferred to wear somewhat marred the visage.
“Follow me,” Yae commanded sharply.
She led Kujou Sara underneath the shade of the Sacred Sakura Tree. There, a long, low table and two zabutons had been set up for their meeting. Yae sat with her back to the Sacred Sakura, while Kujou Sara dropped down on the cushion opposite her.
“What matters do you wish to discuss?”
So brusque. Clearly, someone hadn’t yet learned that the fun part of these negotiations was the wheedling.
“Your promotion, of course!” Yae responded, smiling so wide that her lashes bunched together.
“Ah,” Sara glanced to her side (and what a nasty habit that was, Yae thought to herself) before meeting Yae’s gaze head-on again. “I didn’t think someone of your standing would care to acknowledge a lowly general.”
“Pish posh,” Yae tutted and dismissively waved her freshly manicured hand. “You should know, being enrolled in our dear Shogun’s service as you are, that things like ‘status’ are transparently transient. What I’m more interested in is potential and talent.”
Yae lowered her lashes, and, with that movement, her voice dipped to a husky contralto.
“You, my dear general, have both in spades.”
Such a direct compliment should have left the girl shivering, but Sara took the praise with a disgusting level of humility. “It is a great honor to be granted your approval. Worry not; I will always serve the Shogun with all my power and diligence, no matter my rank.”
Ugh. Yae resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Time for another change in tactics.
“You know…” Yae leaned across the table, resting her chin on the intertwined planes of her fingers, “my shrine maidens talk about you often.”
“Does that pique your interest? All my girls are so lovely, and I do not cage them so strictly as to deny them a future paramour or two.”
Sara only shook her head in response, and Yae briefly lost herself in the sight of those violet locks brushing against their owner’s jaw. “I would never seek to poach any of your employees from you, Guuji Yae.”
Such a cold and clinical response, Yae bemoaned, with not even a hint of red present in her cheeks!
It was criminal, really, that sharp face remaining devoid of what was now a much-needed flush of color. Honestly, Yae should be offended at this point. How dare Kujou Sara remain so outwardly stoic at the prospect of taking one of her shrine maidens? And this was after Yae’s own honeyed words failed to rouse her, too.
The whole thing was preposterous. Was this a Tengu or a statue sitting before her?
“I don’t know about you, General, but I don’t intend to spend the whole afternoon just chatting. I’m feeling a bit peckish, after all.” With a snap of her fingers, a flurry of shrine maidens surrounded them, placing dish after dish of Inazuman delicacies on the table.
Sweets, to be precise.
Sato Andagi, Hakuto Jelly, Melonpan, Anpan, Yokan…anything that was tooth-achingly sweet, coated in fatty creams and butters, or encased in a thick layer of gelatin was on the gold-rimmed plates before them.
After overhearing those shrine maidens yesterday, Yae had done some research into her target.
According to her informants, the general was strict with herself and stuck to a rigid training routine. Her life revolved around her position in the Shogun’s army. It seems she hadn’t learnt much outside of it.
For a brief moment, Yae indulged in a bit of empathy. Shame on you, Kujou Takayuki, for raising an army instead of a family. At least the man’s flawed parenting gave her some weaknesses to exploit.
Militant as she was, Kujou Sara also kept to a fastidious diet. The food she ate had to be nutritious, but not heavy. The amount was fixed every time, as she preferred to finish off her plate in five quick bites. Even at home, she favored the sort of meals that could be eaten on the road.
Naturally, sweets ran contradictory to all of that. A whole table of them was just what Yae needed to finally strip the general of her stoic façade.
Now, now, what would Kujou Sara do? Perhaps this would be the straw that broke the sumpter beast’s back, and the general would simply boil over like a pot left on the fire for too long. How would she wear the red on her face then: patchwork, like an old drunken sailor, or as solid as the crimson of her mask? It’d be a sight to relish either way.
Maybe she would act offended and let some of that trademark Kujou arrogance out to play. Oh, if that were the case, Yae could then humble her in a myriad of ways. No matter what manner she chose, she was sure that Kujou Sara would never again be able to approach Mt. Yougou without her ears turning a delicious shade of pink.
She might just pick at the offered dishes as if she were an insolent child – oh, and what a delightful opportunity for scolding that would provide!
The specifics didn’t matter too much, Yae finally decided.
Just squirm for me, Kujou Sara.
“Guuji Yae…”
Yae suppressed her grin. This was it.
“Thank you for the meal!”
Sara clasped her hands in front of her into a prayer form, head bent, eyes shielded by her bangs. Then, without hesitation, she picked up her cutlery and ate.
Yae tilted her head. She widened her eyes. She blinked, multiple times, each time thinking the sight in front of her would change when she opened her eyes again.
No luck. Surely as her ears were pink and her fur was cotton-soft, that was Kujou Sara sitting there with her cheeks puffed up like one of those gluttonous Tanuki cubs as she snacked on a stick of tricolor dango.
Had she been misinformed?
No, that wasn’t possible. Her intelligence network was as solid as the oak table before her and Yae was excellent at sniffing out dishonesty. Besides, even though she attacked her meal with vigor, Kujou Sara was certainly no connoisseur. Yae could detect the minute hesitancies in her manner, the way she stared at the array of sauces without knowing what she should dip in them.
Her information had been accurate. Her interpretation of said information had not.
She assumed that Kujou Sara was one of those strict types. The type of person who judged another for indulging in what they abstained from. The type of person who couldn’t handle a change in plans. Clearly, Kujou Sara was much more than that. She was principled, yes, but no less adept for it.
Yae watched as the general picked up a napkin and daubed at her sugar-dusted lips. Congratulations, Kujou Sara. You’ve truly got my attention now.
It had been a couple years since that meal she and Sara shared. After that, they continued to meet.
In the beginning, their encounters were sporadic, initiated only by Yae when she happened to get a flash of devious inspiration for a new trick to play. Then, Sara surprised her again by seeking out her company at the shrine. Oh, sure, at first, the girl only asked about Ei and the Cataclysm and other such matters that had long come to close. However, Sara soon began to share her own troubles, and then – well, then, they were like two old friends who met weekly for a cup of tea. It was absolutely quaint.
During all that time they spent together, Yae had seen the general’s face wear many emotions: gentle curiosity, restrained anger, and quiet delight, but never that long coveted blush. A flush that would paint Kujou Sara with the colors of blooming sakura flowers and falling Maple leaves, blow up her pupils to appear delightfully doe-eyed and ever-so gently part her lips into a soft ‘o’.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so do the uninspired poets say, and, in a similar manner, the longer that look evaded her, the more eagerly Yae desired it.
Luckily enough for her (and unluckily for Sara), another opportunity had presented itself, and Yae would not let it slip by her.
She brought it up one morning, as they shared tea underneath the shade of the Sacred Sakura.
“As I’m sure you are well aware of by now, there’s a festival going on. Though it doesn’t involve the Shrine,” Yae sighed, dripping with faux-drama, “– I know, one of those sacrilegious types.”
Sara took a sip of her tea, calm and forthright like always. “I’m providing security detail under the banner of the Tenryou commission.”
“Well then, you’re being reassigned. I want you to be my personal bodyguard for the evening’s festivities.”
When Sara didn’t immediately respond, Yae continued on, fluffing up her ears as she spoke. “It’s not easy being Guuji, you know. I can’t even walk around in public without fear of someone accosting me, begging to touch my luxuriously soft ears.”
Sara did not reply with words, only casting her a pointed look of non-amusement. Foolish girl. As if her pitiful attempt at a stern glare would be enough to refuse her request.
“…. I only take orders from my superiors in the Tenryou Commission and the Shogun herself.”
Yae pouted. “Oh, boo. You can’t possibly be asking me, Eternity’s beloved friend and confidant, to lower myself to submitting one of those pesky reassignment requests for you.”
For a moment, they stared at each other, with Yae leant forward, her arms crossed on the table, and Sara with her teacup poised near her lips.
Sara broke first, of course. “On your behalf, I will relay your request to Master Takayuki. I will send you notice of his decision shortly.”
Yae smirked. Like there’s any doubt about what will be decided. Kujou Takayuki could never disobey the order of someone who was his superior in rank, age, and intelligence. Besides, she was sure the man would take this opportunity to try and get Sara to spy on his most detested enemy. Not that the virtuous woman would concede to his demands, but the idea of it certainly was amusing enough to entertain Yae in the meanwhile.
❀ ❀ ❀
The sun never seemed to set as fast as it rose. The celestial body descended with aching slowness as it dipped beneath the trees of Mt. Yougou, leaving naught but a stain of orange-reds in its wake.
It was just another sunset, notable only for the impatience with which Yae received it. She stood in front of the shrine, her foot tapping away as she awaited Kujou Sara’s arrival. The woman would be on time, she was sure of it, but she still felt restless.
“Lady Yae.” Yae quickly turned around, surprised, to find Sara standing right behind her. “I’m here.”
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Yae chided, and she took a deep breath to recompose herself.
“Apologies.”
You don’t look very sorry, do you? Yae sighed. It was just a momentary surprise, that’s all. It wouldn’t ruin her plans. Focus.
Yae looked Sara up and down, then shook her head with a tutted tsk.
“Is something the matter, Lady Yae?”
“Oh, come now, dear General. You can’t honestly be expecting to wear that to a festival, are you?”
Sara looked down at her clothes, confused. “It’s my uniform.”
Yae sighed, as if the other’s response had disappointed her rather than playing directly into her hand. She slinked closer into Sara’s space, circling her with long, graceful strides. She made a show of examining Sara, sometimes daring to pinch a piece of fabric between her long nails before abruptly dropping the cloth with a faint sneer of disgust.
Once she deemed her act sufficiently drawn-out and her pretend displeasure thoroughly communicated, Yae addressed Sara again. “We’re attending a festival, not a tactics meeting with daddy dearest.”
“Lady Yae, while I may no longer be providing security for the festival itself, I am still attending as your guard. I believe my uniform is well-suited for that purpose,” Sara reasoned, seemingly unperturbed by Yae’s words.
Ugh, did she always have to be so disciplined, so difficult? Why couldn’t she just fold her hands neatly over her skirts and blush like a bullied schoolgirl? That was, after all, what her shrine maidens did whenever Yae implied there was something wrong with their miko shōzoku.
Yae huffed and, with a quick snap! of her fingers, summoned two attendants. “Lucky for you, everyone’s beloved Guuji had foreseen this outcome and prepared accordingly. Girls, please take General Kujou to get changed.”
Her shrine maidens were efficient, a trait that Yae took great care to hammer into them, and they were able to shuffle Kujou Sara away before the woman had the chance to utter a single word.
Surely, this would be where she would finally throw Sara off-balance. Yae had ample experience with forc – ahem, persuading people to wear the outfits she had picked out for them. Once her victims were all dolled up, they tended to make the most unusual and delectable expressions. Sara, who was always trotting around in that dreadful military uniform with all those hideous family crests, was sure to show an expression that was five times, no, ten times better than any she had seen before.
After all, the violet yukata she had laid out for her was a stark departure from the general’s usual dress. It was fashionable, yet casual, and sported an attractive pattern of pale sakura petals. A befitting outfit for anyone who dared to take the role, even temporarily, of “Madam Guuji’s escort.”
Yae heard the shuffling of feet and turned around to see the timely return of Sara and her shrine maidens. Their duty done, the shrine maidens quietly departed, leaving the two of them alone.
“Back so soon?” Yae queried. “Aren’t my girls well-trained?”
“Their speed is enviable; my soldiers could use it.” Sara wasn’t blushing, no, not yet, but Yae was sure she could heat up those lovely cheeks in the next minute or so. As Sara spoke, her face stiffened. “Lady Yae, the yukata is lovely, but – ”
“Ah-ah, don’t speak until you’ve donned the full ensemble.” From behind her back, Yae produced a specially commissioned wooden scabbard and matching leather belt. Sara stared at her, almost a bit hesitant, and Yae stretched her hands further towards the other.
“For your sword,” she prompted.
“…How thoughtful.” Sara took the gift and fastened it on herself with military precision, retrieving her sword and sliding it in the scabbard in one swift motion. “I will make good use of this.”
Hmph, still nothing. Time to turn it up a notch.
Yae marched towards Sara and raised her hands to thread her fingers through the other’s hair. She worked quickly, deftly forming a small side braid from the loose strands near the right of Sara’s cheek.
“What are you doing?”
“Spicing up your boring hairstyle a bit,” Yae answered, calm and confident. To secure her creation, she tied a slip of red ribbon into a neat bow at the braid’s end.
Sara’s eyes widened near imperceptibly, the small motion accentuating the beauty of her dark lashes. “Thank you, Lady Yae.”
…
Still no blush, archons be damned.
Before Yae could even start to lament her most recent failure, Sara spoke up again, drawing her attention back to her.
“Lady Yae, you’ve shown considerable care for my uniform and its ‘thematic unsuitability,’ but I see you’re still wearing your own,” Sara stated crisply. “Are you not dressing up for the festival?”
Yae stared at the other, her eyes wide, having been caught off guard by the accusation. She had been so focused on Sara, on getting the measurements for her yukata right and having the scabbard put through in a rush order, that she hadn’t given thought to her own ensemble – or lack thereof.
“You’re mistaken,” she replied hurriedly, not willing to let her slip-up be known to the other, “I was simply waiting for you to finish before I change, that’s all.”
“Alright,” Sara said easily, seemingly satisfied by this explanation. “I’ll wait for you here, then.”
Yae turned sharply on her heel, rushing to her private quarters. She wasn’t one of those ascetic Youkai that shunned all luxuries of the modern world, so she had plenty of outfits on hand to switch into. It was really no trouble at all, she reasoned as she slipped into a chic pink yukata. The fact that said yukata happened to be the closest one nearby was merely a coincidence, no more than that. Still, as she dressed, she felt a bud of irritation nestle its way into the base of her neck, and then felt doubly irritated at feeling irritated in the first place.
Just why did she feel like Sara had gotten one over her?
❀ ❀ ❀
Despite those irksome little setbacks, they arrived at the festival in a timely manner. Yae guided her temporary-Tengu-bodyguard through the street, the weight of the crowd’s collective gaze heavy on her back.
What? She hadn’t been exaggerating about needing a guard to attend. Unfortunately, even when doing something as mundane as taking a leisurely stroll through festival grounds, a grand Sky Kitsune such as herself was still prone to eliciting fanfare.
She threw a quick glance over her shoulder; Sara was trailing behind her, and, if she had to put a number to it, the woman was more than two arms’ length away. That simply wouldn’t do. From that distance, the passersby wouldn’t be able to tell that they were together – well, attending the festival together, that is.
“Come closer,” Yae beckoned. “What will you do way back there if some ne’er-do-well gets it in their head to try and slash me with their sword?”
“I’m faster than you think,” countered Sara, but, nevertheless, she obeyed her command.
“Good,” Yae hmphed.
They walked on, entering the merchants’ area, if the wealth of displayed products and accompanying price tags was any indicator. Yae surveyed the vendors’ wares.
One vendor had several strings of Youkai masks hanging from his stall’s walls. How funny humans were – most were scared of Youkai, would tremble in her presence and throw beans at any errant wanderer they feared was an Oni, but here they were, trying to replicate their likeness. And, if she might add, doing so poorly.
The vendor, perhaps aware of his hypocrisy, averted his eyes from her as she walked by, but couldn’t resist sneaking quick peeks at Sara.
Oh, right, the dreadful mask that Sara always wore atop her head. As distasteful as Yae found it, the vendor must be stunned by its craftsmanship. After all, that simple red mask made his wares look like child’s play.
Yae thought of sending Sara over there to purchase a mask but decided against it. Much too predictable.
Instead, she continued her slow stroll through the festival’s streets. The next block seemed to be the designated venue for dining, evident by the multitude of food stalls spread out under the lanterns’ warm light. Most of the booths were packed with customers, but one stood out as having its cook as the sole occupant.
She stared at the young owner clad in his orange happi, trying to place that ordinary face to what must be an equally ordinary name. Hmm, Tomoki, was it? An up-and-coming chef that had yet to actually make it on the up-and-up. More than once his “creative cuisine” had put some of her best editors on their sick bed, yet they still kept coming back for more. Aren’t humans aware of how fragile their health is?
Yae shrugged and approached the stall. Might as well see what all the fuss was about.
Tomoki balked at her presence. “Uhm, hello, Lady – Madam! Madam Guuji, w-welcome to my shop! Would you like to purchase something? O-of course, for the Madam Guuji, it’s all 25% off!”
Before Yae could respond, Sara cut in front of her. “No need, we’ll pay in full for anything we might purchase. Lady Yae doesn’t want any special treatment.”
Sara’s words echoed through the street, drawing pleased whispers from the crowd.
“How courteous!” gasped a bystander much too loudly. “As to be expected of our Guuji.”
Yae turned to glare at Sara, but the Tengu warrior pointedly ignored her.
Hmph. It was regrettable, but what had been done was done. She’ll send the bill for the difference to the Tenryou Commission later.
Yae addressed Tomoki again, extending her hand to brush one nail against a display of snacks that she, to be quite honest, had never seen before. They looked to be some sort of spherical concoction propped atop a stick for easy consumption. “This seems… new.”
“It’s very new!” replied Tomoki enthusiastically. “In fact, I just debuted it.”
“Now, what is ‘it’?”
Tomoki plucked the treat from its container, brandishing it with a showman’s flourish. “A candied apple! Simply put, it’s an apple encased in a layer of sugar.”
“Simply put?” Yae echoed. “It seems like that’s all there is to it.”
“Ah, well… yes, it’s not a very complicated process –”
Yae cut him off, taking a candied apple from the stall’s counter. “I’ll take one.”
Yae led Sara a little aways off from the booth before unwrapping her snack. Yae gazed upon the treat’s shining crimson shell, sniffed its sugary sweetness, then extended the stick towards Sara.
“Here, you try first.”
Sara raised one eyebrow, confused.
“I’m Guuji, you know,” Yae harumphed. “I have many enemies, and it would be a shame if I died from a poisoned apple.”
Instead of doing as she commanded, or, Archons forbid, finally blushing, Sara started to draw her sword from its sheath on her hip. “You believe that the vendor may have poisoned his wares – “
“No!” Yae reprimanded sharply, and Sara turned to look at her. She groaned softly under her breath. “Ugh, just – try it, will you?”
Perhaps there were still some wits left swimming around in that addled Tengu brain, since, at her imploring, Sara sheathed her sword and gave her a firm nod of assent. Sara leaned forward, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear as she did so.
With that gesture, time seemed to slow.
Yae watched as Sara gingerly bit into the apple, tearing a chunk off. Yae tracked the morsel through the lithe curve of Sara’s throat. Sara did not blush, but Yae, inexplicably, felt her face heat up. She turned her head away.
“It tastes fine, Lady Yae.”
“Good,” Yae mumbled, before repeating, sharper this time, “good.”
Sara stared at her expectantly, and Yae, knowing what she was looking for, brought the apple to her own lips. Against all logic, the area where Sara had pressed her mouth against seemed to give off a radiance of heat. At the last second, she changed course and Yae bit into the unmarked expanse of the apple, tasting sweetness upon sweetness.
She swallowed. It was good. Maybe that man wasn’t mad after all.
They walked on. Even without the Shrine lending its graceful hand to the planning committee, there was still plenty to do at the festival. There were games, some meant for children and others that could be enjoyed by all ages. However, a group of miscreants, led by a hulking Oni, had already taken over the area. In the north plaza, there was a stage set up for performers; the highlight of which, Yae knew, would be Miss Kamisato’s sword dance, which was scheduled to end just as the fireworks lit the night sky and illuminated the young miss’s figure.
Still…
“I bore of this….” Yae waved her hand around aimlessly and took another bite of her candied apple, “…this bothersome crowd.”
There was a poignant pause before Sara responded. “It is as you requested, Lady Yae.”
Yae regarded Sara with a slight sneer. Where was that panic, so common in her attendants? That desperate desire to please her, to fulfill her wishes, no matter how inane?
And, worst of all, why did she not mind its absence?
Yae was careful to let none of her internal thoughts be known as she formulated her next response. “Hmm…if you will not propose any solutions, then I guess that honor will fall to me.”
“You could return to the Shrine.”
“And miss tonight’s fireworks show? Simply not possible.” Yae thought for a moment. “Ah-ha! There’s a secluded little spot on Amakane Island, excellent for viewing all the fireworks set off in the big city.”
“Then we shall go there at once.”
❀ ❀ ❀
When they arrived at the island, it was deserted; its inhabitants having temporarily set up shop in Inazuma City for the festival.
“Festival island, they call it,” she scoffed. “Hah, but never a festival they seem to have.”
“It is unfortunate,” Sara responded, quick as ever, “that such a beautiful venue often falls into disuse.”
Yae hummed, and she walked along the island’s rustic trail with a small skip in her step. “Amakane Island used to be the ideal place to host a fireworks show, as houses were so quick to catch aflame in the Inazuma of days past. Being surrounded by water and a good ways off from the big city meant that, if anything were to go wrong, the flames wouldn’t be able to spread. Now, however, technology has progressed to the point that this unassuming little isle is now the perfect place to watch a fireworks show. Isn’t it just ironic?”
Sara followed dutifully behind her, only stopping for a moment to duck under a protruding tree branch. “I’d like to know more about that era of Inazuma.”
Yae laughed. “If you wish, I can bore you with some stories during our next teatime. Although, I’m afraid your dear Raiden Shogun will be absent from them.”
“That’s fine.”
“Are you sure? After all, you’re quite enamored with her,” she said, and a deep undercurrent of something managed to wrap its way around her words.
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Yae laughed again, and Sara continued, undeterred, “I respect her, as a warrior and as a leader. To be ‘enamored’ with her, there’d have to be a mutual relationship, a rapport between us.”
“I guess, as Guuji, I shouldn’t shame you for your idolatry.” Yae left it there. She should, by all rights, keep digging, perhaps finally inspire that blush that she yearned so desperately to see, but it just didn’t feel right, and Yae didn’t want to dally on that feeling any longer.
Thankfully, the trail they were following was short, and they soon met its end at the island’s cliff ledge. Yae looked around. Even though the area was, evidently, not well-maintained, no overgrowth blocked their view. Excellent.
Yae plopped down immediately, but Sara stayed back, frowning at their proximity to the edge.
“Oh, boo,” Yae tutted, and she knew exactly what Sara must be thinking, “if I fall off, you’ll simply spread out those big wings of yours and catch me, won’t you?”
Sara sighed. “…I’d rather not.”
“But you would?”
“Of course. I’d do anything to ensure your safety.”
Ugh, how earnest, yet Sara’s face stayed coolly composed. She didn’t even put on one of those eager puppy-dog looks her subordinates often gave her when they tried to impress her with similar mushy phrases. To say that with a straight face… it should disappoint her, yet, ah, it affected Yae even more than she expected.
Yae smiled charmingly. “Come sit with me. The show’s about to start.”
Sara sat down next to her, though the way she folded her legs was quite awkward. Evidently, she wasn’t used to moving around with the added restriction of a full-skirted Yukata. How amusing, to see an accomplished general struggle so.
A flash of spark distracted her from her thoughts. A trail of colors emerged from the ocean and soared towards the sky, like a flock of marine birds or perhaps a school of flying fish.
With a crack of sound, dozens of artificial spectacles bloomed across the waiting canvas before them, painting the night sky with the most fantastic array of colors. Red, to light a flowered peony. Orange, to accentuate the softness of a floating goldfish. Yellow, to burst forth from a lantern’s flaming glow. And, of course, pink, to line the jagged edges of a front-facing sakura blossom.
Yae took in these sights, pleased, and then turned to glimpse Sara’s face.
Before, Yae had played with the idea of Kujou Sara’s capability to express emotion. The expressions she showed – fleetingly, rarely, and always prompted by a great amount of calculation on Yae’s end – had been filtered. Like a single sip of sake, or watered-down dye, or a manuscript whose heavy-handed editor had eked out all of the passion and ingenuity from the book. She had noticed it before, this hollow nature of expression, but had thought that it was just Kujou Sara’s disposition.
But now? Looking upon her hair, dark and dancing with the breeze of the wind, her face, illuminated as it was by the night sky’s symphony, her eyes, bright, so bright, and her smile, how the soft curve of her lips betrayed the pearlescent whiteness of her teeth, Yae realized that, just maybe, she hadn’t been doing it right before. She hadn’t been looking for the right thing. How could that expression she had been searching for, that flush of humiliation and embarrassment, even compare to what she saw just now, that utter joy?
It couldn’t, she decided. Ah, she’d trade it all, give up all her fantasies and trickery, if she could just stay in this moment and continue to bask in the glory of Kujou Sara’s glow.
As the next round of fireworks launched into the air, Yae leaned forward with nothing but her instinct to guide her. She kissed Kujou Sara then, gently, on her cheek.
Sara turned towards her, her eyes wide, her mouth agape and her face scarlet.
There you are.
Yae couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it, how she had finally achieved that look the moment she had abandoned her search for it. She ran her hand along Sara’s face, cupping her chin. “Not so stoic now, are you, General?”
Sara cleared her throat but did not cower away from her. “Would you be if you were in my position, Lady Yae?”
“If the beautiful and striking Madam Guuji bestowed upon me her affection? I think not,” Yae smirked, and her heart felt light, delight having lent it buoyance. “And, please, call me Miko.”
“Alright, Miko,” Sara said, and now she was smiling too, her eyes gleaming. “Will you watch the rest of the fireworks with me?”
“I will.” Yae placed her hand atop Sara’s, and she was satisfied.