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They were lying on the same mat of tatami. Curled up under separate blankets, but their fingers were tightly interlocked between them.
Haori had been staying here for half a month, but Susato had already forgotten since when they’d started holding hands like this; sometimes she could feel Haori’s pulse through her fingers, steady and strong.
And this moment was no exception. Haori’s soft fingertips were stroking the gaps between Susato’s fingers, and Susato could only stare blankly at the barely-visible ceiling above them, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She tried to keep her breaths slow and even, tried to not let her fluster show.
She closed her eyes. She had to get a good night’s sleep today. Tomorrow she was setting out again, sailing back to the British Empire with Naruhodou-sama.
“Susato,” Haori said just then, breaking the silence. Susato opened her eyes instantly.
She sighed. It looked like she couldn’t pretend at sleep any longer.
“What is it, Haori-sama?”
Haori suddenly turned to face Susato, clasping Susato’s hands tightly in hers. Susato twisted her head to look at her. In the dim light of the washitsu, Haori’s eyes burned directly into Susato’s own. Susato felt something in her chest tighten involuntarily.
She was too familiar with this expression. Steady, fierce, scorching fire danced in Haori’s eyes… Ever since Susato had first met her as a child, she’d seen this look of Haori’s countless times, blazing along with Haori’s inextinguishable bravery and conviction… And this time, surely, was no exception.
Susato turned to face her fully, then, and their eyes met. She almost subconsciously pressed her lips together.
“Miss Mikotoba” — and Haori pulled Susato’s hands towards her own, striking Susato square in the heart with every word — “Please marry me!”
Susato was momentarily speechless. Her mouth fell open; her eyes were wider than they had ever been. Haori’s hands felt boiling hot, like Susato was about to be burned, and her hand involuntarily flexed so as to let go, but Haori held on tight.
“But… But…” The initial shock had receded slightly, and Susato finally found her words, stumbling: “That’s… not possible… We’re… we’re both girls…”
She averted her eyes, finally unable to withstand the ray of sunlight piercing through the darkness.
“No one has to know. We don’t need anyone else’s recognition… and — only if you want to, of course —” Haori’s voice lowered. “We could have a secret marriage. Only you and me and the skies above. Men and women do that all the time, don’t they?”
Susato bit her lip, hard. Some part of her had felt — had even hoped for — the arrival of this day, but she had never expected it to be so soon, so overwhelmingly ardent; she’d never expected it to take on this shape.
She swallowed. Her mouth was drier than desert sand, and her head was spinning, and all of her muscles had locked tight.
“I…” Haori glanced down. “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say it for a long time now. But I was always too scared… But if I didn’t tell you today, I don’t know when I’d have another chance. I might… never have another chance…” There was a small rasp to her voice, like she was fighting down tears.
Susato had successfully fought free of her frozen state.
“Haori-sama…!”
“How many times do I have to tell you, just Haori is fine—”
“Haori-sama.”
Susato suddenly straightened, sitting up in her blankets. Her tone was deadly serious — maybe even stern.
“Susato…?”
Haori, too, sat up hurriedly, uneasily. Her arms were frozen in mid-air, trembling slightly, as though she didn’t know what to do with them. She looked down slightly, gazing towards Susato, as she ultimately clasped her hands to her chest.
But Susato wasn’t looking at her. She was staring steadily at the wall in front of them.
“Murasame Haori-sama.” Her voice was cold. Remote.
Haori stayed silent, and pressed her hands together even more tightly.
“Who is the object of your proposal?” Susato’s words were sharp like ice. “Is it Mikotoba Susato, or is it —” She paused for a second. “Naruhodou Ryuutarou?”
Haori sucked in a breath of cold air.
“It’s — it’s you, obviously —”
“Murasame-sama. Please think your answer through before you reply.”
Susato turned, placing her hands on Haori’s shoulders. The gentle, warm touch Haori knew was now frosty and firm, locking Haori in place. She could only stay still, Susato’s blade-sharp glare penetrating her darting eyes.
“Naruhodou Ryuutarou was only the persona I wore that day, so that I could stand at the defense bench to prove you innocent. Yes, I was upset at being born a girl that day, but that was the first time, and it will be the last. Mikotoba Susato was female, is female, and will be female. Even if I could change that fact, I wouldn’t want to.
“And the gallant defense lawyer in your eyes — that is the boy Naruhodou Ryuutarou, not the girl Mikotoba Susato. Murasame-sama, you are mistaken. The real object of your proposal does not exist.”
Susato inhaled quickly through her nose.
“I am going to stay in the courtyard for a while. Please calm yourself, Murasame-sama, and think this over again.”
She stood then, to walk to the doorway.
“Stop right there, Mikotoba Susato.”
Susato froze. She turned to face Haori. Haori, who had drawn her petite stature up to her full height, hands clenched into fists, nostrils flaring, the fire in her eyes a perfect match to the ice in Susato’s own.
“Who did you think was sleeping by my side, these past few days? Who did you think was holding your hand? Who did you think was making it impossible for me to fall asleep, night after night?
“You thought I didn’t know! You thought I couldn’t feel the heat of your hand, you thought I didn’t know how strongly your pulse beat in your wrist! I’m not talking to some Naruhodou Ryuutarou! It’s you! It’s always been you! From the start to the end it’s only ever been you, Mikotoba Susato!”
Haori took a step towards Susato, and took her face in her hands.
Susato might have leaned in, or she might not have. But that was already of no importance: their lips brushed for a single moment, like two sakura petals just so happening to touch in mid-air.
“I accept your proposal, Murasame Haori-sama.”
Susato tried to fight down the tears welling in her eyes — but at last she could not, and they fell freely as she clutched her tea sachet to her chest. She waved to the crowd of people sending the ship off on the docks — but her eyes were fixed on the figure furthest out on the pier, the silhouette in the pale yellow kimono. Susato desperately blinked away her last tears, gazing at that face, at the girl beaming despite the tears slipping down her own cheeks. The steamship was already a distance away now, but she knew that just like her, that person was waving back, was also clutching her own tea sachet.
The docks at last vanished into the distance. But Susato was still facing in the same direction, as she ran a thumb over the sachet she was holding onto so dearly.
Inside was hidden a single lock of Haori’s hair. Through it was threaded a cord from the yukata Susato had been wearing that night.
No, it was’t necessary for anyone else to know.
This was a secret for only her, and her beloved Haori.