Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took Masaki longer than she liked to admit, to realize it.

When Ryūken’s Walkman got scratched, he’d gifted it to Katagiri before promptly purchasing a replacement for himself.

Masaki had found that simultaneously elitist and wasteful rather than generous.

One little scratch? 

And he was tossing it aside? That was an expensive toy. 

But he always had the best of everything. He was the heir and only son of the Ishida household.

With the purchase of his second Walkman, he began amassing a lot of cassettes.

He acquired an intense interest in rock and roll practically overnight.

Which was odd because he’d been an orchestra and opera sort before.

She’d thought it was a sense of teenage rebellion hitting her cousin late. He wanted his nineteenth year to count. Masaki could respect that.

At 20, he’d be a legal adult! 

She didn’t think she could last here that long. The minute high school ended…there was a fantasy she entertained where she ran out the gates and didn’t stop.

Out! Out into the world! Where there was happiness! Because there wasn’t any here.

Most of the household was out today.

Mistress Izumi was conducting business with Karakura City officials.

A large unit of servants had gone to guard her.

Others were on scheduled patrols around the city or out buying supplies.

Uncle Sōken was gone, as usual.

This meant the bulk of the household chores fell to a select few servants who’d been left behind.

It was a golden opportunity.

Masaki wanted to see what kind of snacks she could sneak while Auntie was gone.

Izumi would complain that Masaki’s lack of control over her appetite was grossly unladylike and would catch up to her one day. It would be embarrassing for her in-laws. Didn’t she want beautiful, professional portraits someday that would go down in posterity?

Kanae had been sympathetic during Masaki’s transition to life among the Ishidas and would help her smuggle snacks.

Good food made grief go down easier. Masaki was sure of it.

After losing her family and drinking in so much sadness she wanted to taste something good.

Sweet. Salty. Crunchy. 

Nothing bitter. She’d had enough of that.

Ryuu didn’t understand her.

He would look up from his mountains of homework and sigh, “Masaki, don’t recruit Katagiri to do tasks that will upset Mother.”

She hadn’t understood him until they were finally caught.

Honestly, Masaki expected the slap.

She didn’t expect Katagiri to be the one who took it.

Ryūken was upset with both of them. 

With Katagiri, his anger had heat because she knew better than to be disobedient to the Ishida Family.

With Masaki, his anger had ice because—

“Do not exploit her kindness again,” he hissed.

As if the bruise on Katagiri’s face hadn’t made her feel awful enough…

Or that the servant smiled through it all and apologized for causing such strife between them. 

Which was why Masaki wanted to make sure Katagiri was busy and couldn’t possibly be blamed when Masaki raided the kitchen.

She’d tracked the young woman’s energy to the ballroom.

It seemed strangely hyped up and she hoped the maid wasn’t struggling with something too heavy for her.

Katagiri had a tendency to think she was a lot stronger than she was.

Ryūken seemed aware of it and curbed it when necessary.

Right now her spiritual pressure was being released in bursts.

It took a couple of tries but Masaki managed to conceal her own energy before peeking in.

She didn’t expect to find her cousin there.

But he was.  

Ryūken had concealed himself as well. He was holding a notebook and a calculator. He’d probably hidden in there earlier to do homework (and avoid being pestered by Auntie into going with her; she liked showing him off). Now, he just had to wait out Katagiri and the space would become a studying sanctuary again.

Masaki had been about to say his name when he turned, stared at her in surprise, sped over, clapped a hand over her mouth, and herded her to a corner with him.

They both crouched down.

Sooo…

Kanae Katagiri didn’t know that either of them were there.

She thought she was alone and that most of the household was out and wouldn’t disturb her.

So, for the first time as long as Masaki had known her…Katagiri was letting loose.

The facts were the following:

1. She was cleaning.
2. She was wearing her newly gifted Walkman.
3. She was using her Quincy powers.

She was using her Quincy powers to clean while wearing the Walkman.

And it was glorious to behold.

Masaki felt inspired.

No wonder Cousin Ryuu couldn’t study right now! Not with that much excitement mere paces away.

The music was cranked loud enough that they could hear some of it from those earphones.

And then Kanae started singing the chorus.

She had a better singing voice than Masaki expected. And her English was better than expected for some of the songs. Though the ones in Japanese had a punch to them that suggested she sang them to herself when off on her own.

Maybe because she was always so quiet…

And she didn’t sound apologetic… 

It was really… refreshing. 

Her voice was bright and happy, almost giddy, though she still self-censored the naughtier lyrics (and blushed while doing so).

In short, Masaki decided then and there that she suddenly got why Cousin Ryūken appreciated his guard so much.

The drab clothes she wore and the stuffy customs she had to uphold could never quite mute the vivid color in her.

Even as a Gemischt.

With nothing more than herself to offer.

And Masaki immediately admonished herself for that prejudice.

Katagiri’s self was awesome.

Especially when she performed jumps and flips to target cobwebs across the ceiling. 

She danced and spun around with her cart. 

She’d pause and hum and dance from foot to foot while she rewound a tape to play it again. Or sometimes she changed them out with others from a small basket.

She was perusing the tapes with careful slender fingers and then stilled.

She pulled one out and held it to her breast.

“O Young Master Ryūken,” she murmured quietly, “you have good taste.”

Masaki glanced her cousin’s way; he was biting his lip and looked a little pink.

Before she could nudge him with her elbow, there was one knock to the door.

Katagiri slowly straightened her back and then smoothed her uniform. 

“Y-yes?” Katagiri called back.

“Katagiri?” It was another maid. 

She slumped slightly in relief. “Yes?”

“Do you want me to return the tapes? I think Mistress is returning in the next hour.”

“Oh yes, if you would, please. Thank you.”

She cradled the basket like it was sacred and walked it to the door. She opened the door to pass it through.

“Kanae?! Are you allowed to take so many!? These are expensive!” 

Katagiri flushed. “I-I don’t pack the basket. I say ‘anything is-is too much, is very nice, Young Master.’ He is generous.”

The other maid, Mitsumi Saito, raised an eyebrow. 

She glanced down at the Walkman.

“Oh…do…you…” Katagiri looked reluctant for a moment but then rallied. “Would you like to borrow it? It is amazing to hear music louder than your heartbeat, louder than your thoughts in your ears!”

“No. The Young Master gave that to you. You are the one responsible for its care.”

There was definitely tension and warning and maybe envy or disapproval there.

“He is so kind.”

And then there was a softer worry in Saito’s eyes. “Finish up. There’s still laundry to do.”

“Right.”

The door closed.

She waited a beat…

And then the play button was pressed and she was on to windows and drapes.

She used reishi footholds in place of a ladder to get the height she needed to work.

Her hirenkyaku was beautiful. Blue sparkles at her feet as she circled the chandelier to dust it.

It made Masaki determined to learn that technique.

It was when Katagiri tried to be more meticulous…

She was struggling to get the chandelier’s innermost areas clean when she decided to manipulate the reishi in the air…to hold her feet while she was hanging upside down.

She was humming enthusiastically along to another song as she sprayed and wiped the metal down with a cloth.

It was clever, only…

She was…upside down. 

And gravity was working.

Her skirt flipped up and her slip started to slide.

This was on them.

She didn’t know they were there.

Masaki had to hold her breath to try to stifle her giggles.

Quincy colors.

Blue and white stripes with lace and cutesy bows.

And her undies connected to garters that held up her stockings.

All business sharp on the outside with frilly fun underneath.

She’d have to request Katagiri to go lingerie shopping with her. The Gemischt that usually accompanied her was strict and matronly.

She was about to crack a joke to her cousin on whether Katagiri seemed the type to wear matching tops and bottoms, when she noticed Ryuu was blushing hard all the way to the tips of his ears.

She stared at him. He noticed and blushed harder in embarrassment.

Masaki smirked and then glanced down.

He hastily set his notebook over his lap. 

“Masaki!” he hissed.

That gave them away. 

Katagiri somersaulted down and landed on her feet and then knelt. She immediately apologized for not noticing them. 

Ryūken replied that they were the ones intruding. 

Katagiri countered that she was embarrassed that her uniform was sloppy and that this wouldn’t happen again.

She stood and turned away to “straighten it.”

Except the maid had forgotten that there was a massive mirror there, so they totally saw her stuffing the headphones and player down the front of her uniform.

But mega points to her for trying to play it all off smoothly.

She cheerfully asked them over her shoulder if they’d like refreshments as she tried to get her uniform’s collar and kerchief to camouflage her efforts.

She was looking for an escape from them to stash the Walkman.

Masaki turned to Ryūken.

Somehow, impossibly, Ryūken had gone even redder.

Katagiri spun around to face them, the picture of professionalism once more.

Face serene.

Feet together.

Hands clasped demurely.

Ryuu’s eyes kept returning to where the Walkman he had gifted her was.

Masaki giggled.

He was so obvious.

How had she missed it?

Cousin Ryuu had a thing for Katagiri!

Ryūken peered over the top of his chemistry textbook. Masaki giggled as she turned a page which signaled she wasn’t really working on homework. Nobody giggled over geometry.

He was sitting beneath the shade of one of the garden's larger trees. He and Katagiri had liked decorating it as children for various human and Quincy holidays. Some of the ribbons and talismans could still be viewed or heard with the wind—a rustling or a chime. It always calmed him. 

Those memories were some of his favorites: the two of them climbing through the branches trying to outdo one another. Then, helping one another get the leaves and twigs out of each other’s hair so their mischief wouldn’t get them in trouble. (They were only supposed to decorate the trunk of the tree.)

“But wouldn’t the tree be happier if all of it was made fancy?” A very young Katagiri had wondered aloud, craning back to look up at the tree's peak. 

Ryūken couldn’t fault that logic and began climbing.

“Young Master! I should do it! You should wait down where it’s safe.”

“I’m just as brave as you are,” he snapped.

“Yes, but I think I’m lighter. I can climb higher than you.”

At least she’d said “lighter” and not “taller,” even so—

“We’ll see about that!” he challenged.

With a giggle, she scrambled up after him.

His lips curved.

Katagiri wasn’t too far away.

She was beating dust from a rug.

It was a very physical task. He understood there was a rotation and that fair was fair, but Katagiri was petite. She was barely taller than Masaki and far more slender.

That rug was quite large and then her tool broke.

“Oh no,” Katagiri gasped and looked around to see if any other servants were in sight. She checked her watch and sighed. 

He frowned.

He had a Quincy communicator with him. He could ask another servant to bring a replacement.

Only Katagiri was now employing palm strikes and roundhouse kicks to complete the task and stay on schedule.

“Ninja Maid defeats rug!” Masaki cheered, looking up from the comic book he could now see she’d hidden in her textbook to feign studying.

He frowned. “Do not tease Katagiri. She is improvising. Her tool broke.”

“That rug took a real beating.”

Ryuu laughed very lightly, in spite of himself, as he agreed. “Yes, it did.”

She had a good roundhouse kick.

Two servants appeared to take the rug back in to be laundered.

She was being pointed in the direction of the gardeners—probably to assist with hydrating them. Two maids were already handing out bottles of waters. 

They didn’t need her. 

He ought to get her out of the sun. She had low blood pressure. Too much heat and exertion wasn’t good for her. 

If April was this hot, June would likely be even worse.

“Katagiri?” he called, interrupting the conversation.

“Yes, Young Master?” She looked over a little sheepishly.

Why yes, he had seen her unorthodox cleaning technique.

Heat rose in him as he immediately remembered her chandelier maneuver the other day.

He cleared his throat and his mind.

“Katagiri? Would you peel these apples? Yano? Would you bring four water bottles over for us?”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

Katagiri came over. 

He offered her cleaning wipes for her hands.

“Thank you, sir,” she panted slightly.

See? She was getting overexerted. Sweat and humidity was causing the hairs at the nape of her neck to curl.

“Don’t stand. It’s distracting.” He patted the space beside him on the blanket.

“Ah…Yes, Young Master.”

She settled close by and began peeling the apples with a knife.

Her slim fingers moved with deftness. 

They were both good with knives, having been trained up with Seele Schneider and other darts and daggers since kindergarten.

His skills would eventually go into performing surgery. Hers would stay here. It rankled him.

“You could be a surgeon. If you wanted to be.”

She smiled. “How nice of you to think me capable, but I do not think I could do it everyday. Seeing lots of people in need…not seeing them after…I’d always be wondering…”

He hummed in answer.

She liked caring for people.

“There are many other jobs to consider there as well.”

She’d be a good nurse. She could be anything, really. She was very diligent.

He wanted her to go to school so she could work at the hospital, too.

He’d brought it up to his father twice. The man had stared at him as he argued for her.

“Kanae is very intelligent and deserves the opportunity to better herself. It offends me that her talents and energy are wasted in laundry.”

“That is what offends you?” His father’s gaze was piercing.

A lot of the treatment she endured offended him, this was one more slight.

He maintained his composure and rebutted, “Surely, the estate could only benefit if we invested in our staff’s education?”

Something like relief crossed his father’s face. Like he’d feared Ryūken would say something else.

“I will consider it. Perhaps, we could help connect them to resources? If they want to continue refining their skills?”

It was not an outright no to higher education.

He nodded and waited to be dismissed from his father’s office.

Katagiri’s stomach growled.

She blushed.

“Katagiri, would you find which apples are sweet and which are tart for us?

Her eyes went almost comically wide. “I’m not sure I can do so without sampling.”

“Then, sample them.”

“Y-yes, Young Master.”

She frowned for a moment as if this was a new startling revelation.

Their eyes met briefly.

He wanted her to eat something before her energy gave out and she fainted.

There was a rising intensity in her face—a passion to succeed in this quest.

She could be so amusing when she became determined.

She cut two apples into careful, even wedges and selected one wedge from each.

“These are sweet, sir,” she announced on sampling two of the apples.

He usually preferred sweet.

“Good. But I would like one that’s tart. Here.” He offered her one of the water bottles that had been brought over by Yano while she’d been engrossed in her task. “So you may cleanse your palate.”

And hydrate.

Two samples later, Katagiri found the elusive tart one.

“Are you certain? Perhaps, try once more? To be certain.”

She did so and smiled. “Yes, I am certain.”

Then, she was summoned to go help with setting out training equipment. But that would at least be indoors where there was air conditioning.

“Thank you for your help, Katagiri.” 

He didn’t need to stand. 

For a servant.

But he was a gentleman.

And this was Katagiri.

He helped her to her feet.

Because she had helped him before. When they were small…when he was ill.

One time, he twisted his ankle in grade school. She had embarrassed and impressed him by carrying him on her back to the nurse.

How could he not repay such loyalty? 

Her hands were cool to the touch. Low blood pressure often resulted in poorer circulation.

Maybe he should order her to stay?

“I was pleased to be of service, sir.” There was better color in her face. 

She would be alright.

She bowed.

He dismissed her.

His eyes watched her go.

There was no faltering in her steps. 

He released the breath he’d been holding.

Masaki, who’d been too quiet through it all, turned to Ryūken and smirked. “You like tart apples?”

He shrugged, not meeting her gaze, and returned to studying. “Today I do.”

He needed to make sure his guard was taken care of. If he had to make himself a little ridiculous to do that, so be it.

Besides, Katagiri liked tart apples.

It would have been mean if she didn’t get to eat what she liked.

Kanae let her hair down with a gratifying sigh. She ran her fingers along her scalp to soothe the tension.

Keeping her hair wrapped up had produced some waves. She combed her fingers through and smiled at her reflection.

She liked her hair. She wished she could keep it down. She understood the dress code helped protect them from various injuries and mishaps and inappropriate attention but…

She just liked to have her hair down.

As a high ranking personal guard, she had a private bedroom to herself. While it was small, it was comfortable. It even had its own en suite bathroom with a tub.

She liked it very much.

But…

Sometimes, the giggling across the hall to where other lower ranked maids shared quarters…made her…it wasn’t quite envious.

But…

Lonely.

She wasn’t great at socializing. She harbored the fanciful delusion that if she was forced into close spaces with others maybe she’d develop friendships.

They didn’t dislike her. She knew that.

She was just…that bit too quiet and odd and intense.

Still…

She was never going to change these traits if she never undertook opportunities to grow.

She took a deep breath.

She was going to be nineteen next month. She had dispatched Hollows since the age of ten. She was regularly chosen as the spokeswoman for the maids when news had to be relayed to Mistress Izumi.

This couldn’t be scary.

Even if it was, she was brave.

She hovered at the threshold of the other maids’ rooms.

There was laughter on the other side of the door.

She could knock. She could smile brightly and say “hello.” Inquire as to what was so funny.

Try to…join in…

But…

If she wasn’t wanted…

She glanced down. Her blue and white checkered pajama top didn’t match the blue and white striped pajama pants she was wearing.

After doing laundry all evening, she hadn’t felt like doing her own and had settled for castoffs.

To be laughed at on top of being unwelcome…

She retreated to the estate’s library to steal away with a book and shut herself in her room. She’d been stocking up on batteries. She could listen to the Walkman the young master had given her. That was such a kind gesture. She still hadn’t gotten over it.

He was always so kind to her. He’d probably lend her tapes if she asked.

Her face heated up at the thought. Such audacity.

She still had one tape from earlier and would probably wear it out by listening to it continuously tonight but…

If it could block out the festivities…

Yes. With something to listen to and something to read, she’d be just fine.

She looked for a suitable book.

She needed something without romance. Or friendship. Or anything that would make her feel like she was missing out.

She left the library and went down into the archives where all the subjects would be incredibly dry. Maybe something on ancient Quincy gardening techniques? That would put her to sleep.

The lighting was dim because the archivist had left for the night.

Maybe she could even linger here for an hour or two? She should have brought the Walkman.

“Katagiri.”

She jumped.

“Young Master,” she greeted back, flustered.

He’d gotten too skilled at concealing his energy over the last few summers.

His eyes took in her mismatched pajamas. 

“I’ve caught you.” His tone was amused.

And she felt very foolish. 

She wasn’t even wearing a robe since it was summer and the maids’ lodgings were never kept quite as cold as the main house.

She’d intended to grab a book from here and then return to her room (she could return it in the morning before it was missed).

So much for going unnoticed.

“Yes. You have, sir.”

She looked ridiculous.

He was still properly dressed—sweater and trousers and shoes.

At least her house slippers matched.

His lips curved even more at her confession.

Her heart pounded.

Hers had been one of the most inconvenient of fates: falling in love at first sight with someone she shouldn’t have.

Common. Cliché. Doomed.

She would master herself. 

She would rise above it.

She would never let her heart interfere with her duty.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asked directly.

“Oh…um,” she hesitated.

He turned to give her his full attention.

And because it was him and he was genuinely curious and concerned, she was honest.

He was quiet.

“It’s possible they gathered without wanting me there,” she concluded, admitting her fear to him.

“You could know, if you knocked,” he suggested.

Her eyebrows drew together and she smiled as she shrugged. “Isn’t it better to think it's an oversight than deliberate?”

He frowned. “I could implement a rule against these gatherings.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline at this overreaction—well-meaning as it was.

“Oh no. Nonono. That isn’t. Please don’t.”

“If you’re certain.”

“I appreciate your intent though.”

He continued frowning. “Then you may keep company with me, if you like. We’ll hide together. Masaki keeps trying to force feed me a new treat she got from a vending machine at her school. I don’t like overly spicy things.”

Kanae smiled sadly. It was important to be supportive of the two Echts’ relationship. It was for the good of the Ishida line. 

“She’s trying to be nice and share her discovery with you.”

The young master’s white eyebrows twitched and he made an expression of displeasure. “She complained how it burned her mouth and wants to know if it’ll have the same effect on me.”

Kanae bit at her lips to try not to laugh. “I-I see.”

“Do you?” His tone was rather flippant.

She giggled in spite of her best efforts not to.

He was so kind, cheering her up instead of scoffing at her trivial troubles.

Especially when he had so much more on his shoulders to bear with as the heir of his household.

“I noticed that no one has dusted the area on ancient Quincy pottery and ceramics,” he said.

“Oh.” She’d put it on her chore list and remedy it tomorrow.

“Let’s hide there,” he decided.

“Y-yes, Young Master.”

His lips curved and he spun on his heel to start walking there.

“Katagiri?” he called after five steps.

“Yes, sir. I’m coming.”

And she followed him, as she always did. As she always would. And took the joy she could from that.

Chapter Text

Several hours passed by with the two of them sitting against bookcases and talking. 

Ryūken told her about the different sorts of people in his classes. As someone who was isolated at the Ishida estate and shyer by nature, Katagiri didn’t get as much conversation in her daily schedule.

She was very observant. She was also comfortable enough with him that she could talk about birds she’d seen and flowers in the garden that were blooming and could make inferences about the weather and how the season would progress.

She greatly enjoyed the Walkman. They talked about music. She liked it so much her cheeks would flush as she spoke excitedly about the songs she enjoyed most.

She could be tricked into singing or humming a lyric to clarify which song she meant.

She had a sweet, good-natured quality to her voice that came out even stronger when she sang.

They’d known each other too long to be easily embarrassed by things like this, singing or confiding to one another.

It was the longstanding ease borne of keeping one another company for over a decade.

The only problem now was that Katagiri was getting cold.

That could be remedied.

Ryūken removed his sweater and pushed it her way.

“No, Young Master, I can’t accept—”

“I can make it an order. My guard taking ill out of pride would be troublesome—”

She reluctantly pulled it over her head but then ended up smiling at the immediate warmth.

“Good.” Ryūken nodded. “You’ve come to your senses.”

She was relieved to be made comfortable.

He was relieved because…reasons that were stupid…

His classmates liked talking about these sorts of things. They were crude. 

They were also right.

Curse them.

She was wearing something of his and that did things for his reptilian brain.

Time for a distraction.

He reached behind him, without looking, for a thick book.

He was rewarded with Treasured Quincy Mosaics from the 400s through the 900s. 

It was a longstanding ritual at this point: he would select a boring book and read it out loud. She would try to stay awake.

He always won. 

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he stated, as he cracked the tome open and wrinkled his nose at the dust. 

Her deep blue eyes went wide with a look of ‘He knows!?’

Of course he knew. Her face was so expressive. She was terrible at keeping secrets. And there were puffy bags under her eyes.

A strand of her hair fell across her face.

His hand twitched. He kept it at his side.

She tucked it behind her ear.

More of her hair was tickling his arm because they were sitting so closely together.

If he made any acknowledgement of it, she’d move her hair or herself.

Her hair was long, dark, and sleek. So black it had a blue tint to it.

Childhood misadventures meant he knew her hair well.

Wind had blown it into his face multiple times and he’d regularly gotten a mouthful as he pushed her on the swing because it was her turn.

“Sorry, Young Master.”

He’d rescued her braids from school bullies sitting behind her trying to yank them or untie her ribbons.

“Thank you, Young Master.”

Or whenever they’d been pressed close while hiding from a Hollow and watching a Shinigami lose, he could smell it.

Like two weeks ago.

Much taller than her now, he could look down at the part of her hair and see where it was crooked and…would it be odd? If he fixed it for her? If he just did that? Like he used to?

He used to do things like that when he was a child until his parents were shocked to witness it.

His mother had been blunt, “She’s a Gemischt. Don’t touch her. They suffer more exposure to Hollows.”

His father was surprisingly severe as well. “Ryūken, she’s a person not a plaything.”

The ribbon around her waist had unwound. She was trying to tie it behind her but her fingers kept getting tangled up.

Maybe if he’d been smarter he’d have alerted an adult or someone of her gender to attend her?

But it was Katagiri.

She helped tie his ties sometimes or used the edge of her skirt or blouse to clean his glasses for him. She was the best at it.

He liked when she held them up and squinted at the lenses—checking them for smudges. 

He had wanted to help her back because she was always helping him.

Maybe if he’d gone around behind her and tied it more properly?

But he’d been facing her and he just stepped close. Close enough to be nose to nose and reached around her waist because his hands were very certain. He didn’t need to see to be able to tie a bow.

And she giggled. And he smiled.

And he gave the bow a sharp snap.

She was impressed.

He was pleased then he was impatient. 

He took her by the hand so they could go play some more.

The adults were very upset by what they’d seen.

He was quiet through the reprimand.

“Ryūken?” His father pressed him. “How do you see Katagiri?”

He stared. Aware that there was no right answer and annoyed. He didn’t like trick questions.

“As Katagiri.”

So he gave a non-answer.

His father was unimpressed. “Ryūken.”

“She doesn’t need to be anything other than Katagiri. Katagiri likes the swing set. Her bow needed retying so no one would step on it. So it wouldn’t snag while we play.”

His father sighed.

“Is that so, Katagiri?”

“Yes, Master.”

Ryūken had frowned heavily.

“Yes, Ryūken?”

“I told you. I’m not wrong where it comes to Katagiri.”

They’d been out later than usual because he had an evening class followed by a study session.

And she’d been sent by his mother to wait for him in the lobby of their university library. It could be dangerous for a tired heir to return home unescorted—a Hollow could catch him by surprise in such a state.

Still…

There was something off putting about the arrangement.

“Katagiri?” He’d sensed her spirit ribbon.

“Good evening, Young—”

“Did Mother send you?”

“Yes, but I’m glad to be of service to you this night.”

He frowned.

It was dangerous for her to be out alone at this hour even with a servant’s uniform or because of it.

Her being in professional attire was not enough to really dissuade male notice.

The feminine sound of her heeled shoes got looks. The sound of her voice turned heads. Her hair being pulled back only meant her bright blue eyes were even more noticeable.

Several of his peers from the study session sighed in appreciation at the sight of her—there were very few female students in their courses.

It was annoying. Katagiri was Katagiri. She wasn’t supposed to be perceived in such a manner.

She did not look remotely like Masaki, who was often ogled. 

Many of his peers thought his younger cousin was very attractive and said so. Healthy, vibrant, voluptuous, and cheerful—she easily charmed his friends whenever they crossed paths.

Her hair was so light. Like his. 

His mother was interested in who their heir would take after. White hair or honey blond.

No child of that union would have hair that was dark and sleek like...

Katagiri was always politely disinterested by his peers. She often attempted to blend in with her surroundings—the better to dispatch a Hollow discreetly.

Those who didn’t know her thought her cold, quiet, and dismissive the first time they met her.

He fielded those complaints with, “You’re an idiot.”

She was the kindest person he knew.

She was also the densest.

She seemed wholly unaware of what her proximity did to him.

They were of an age where hormonal reactions were to be expected and endured because bodies didn’t care about Quincy blood quantum.

When they were children, she used vanilla smelling shampoos and soaps. As she aged, she turned to fragrance-free alternatives because she didn’t want to give her position away to a Hollow.

It turned out most medical settings also mandated fragrance-free policies and he’d had to switch over to similar products as well.

They’d been walking back when she stilled in alarm and pushed him around a corner, into a cramped alley way.

Her hand was against his mouth—cool fingers on his lips. The not quite so fragrance-free smell of hand lotion wafted up because she was worried about archery and laundry making her hands too dry and rough. 

The message, though silent, was clear: Quiet, Young Master.

The Hollow howled and the reaper crunched between its hungry jaws.

She released him. Very carefully manifested her bow despite being so close to him and drew it back. The bowstring touched her lips.

She let the arrow fly.

He knew it would hit. Katagiri’s arrows always hit.

His eyes stayed on her lips.

She was a Gemischt. 

He was an Echt.

Gemischts were unsuitable.

His mother would be abhorred.

His father would be apathetic.

His future was already planned.

His family needed him to uphold their traditions.

The Quincies needed him to lead them. 

That meant tough decisions.

That meant sacrifice.

Discipline.

Her lips smiled in grim satisfaction. 

Their bodies were very close.

He was her eventual leader.

Their feet were so close that one of her legs was touching his. Her arm had pressed against his stomach when she’d drawn the arrow.

Katagiri was Katagiri.

She was his current protector.

They had their roles as Quincies, as humans.

He would not disappoint the Ishida Household.

He would not be a cliché: a lusty employer eyeing his female servant.

These were just errant biological urges.

He’d be married soon enough.

That thought alone cooled him.

Because he needed to be considerate of his future Echt bride.

“The light is very dim,” she murmured in concern, eyeing the archives worriedly. “Your eyes will be strained by—”

“I won’t be reading long. I doubt you’ll last four pages.”

She was indignant. “I’ll last longer than that!”

She lasted eight pages before falling asleep against his shoulder. 

He dozed lightly himself for the next hour until he felt his arm starting to go numb from her weight.

He carried her back to her quarters. Partly out of concern for her and partly out of curiosity about the festivities she’d mentioned going on across the hallway.

He was a little perturbed that she didn’t lock the door to her room; he’d have to talk to her about that. It was unsafe. 

He set her carefully on her bed while he checked the space over for threats.

He couldn’t help noticing the noise.

Sure enough, her neighbors were still awake. Possibly drunk.

He hit the “record” feature of his communicator so he’d have evidence of their volume and noted the time.

Their peals of laughter soon began disturbing Katagiri’s sleep.

He frowned.

Maybe a rule was necessary?

She’d looked so imploringly at him though…

Maybe an alternate space was the better way to resolve this?

He carried her down to the library where there was a comfortable divan, but there were two Gemischts having a tryst there.

He might need to burn that piece of furniture with holy fire because of their lack of professionalism.

He should have them written up.

…Even if he could see the appeal. 

Masaki wouldn’t. She thought libraries were dull, lifeless places where dust collected. 

She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t right. She was different.

Katagiri would…

He shook his head.

It didn’t matter what Katagiri thought about such things—

The sounds of ardor were getting distracting.

It made him very annoyed.

Kanae was surprised to wake up in a training room. 

“The floor of the archive is very hard,” the young master remarked from nearby.

She’d been set on a mat and had a weighted blanket that had been foraged from one of the medical stations down there.

“Change into that, please.”

She blinked down at her sparring uniform which had been folded carefully and set near her.

“So people can just assume we woke early to train.”

She sat up and pulled the folded clothing close. “You guessed my locker combination.”

He nodded. “You’ve used the same one since junior high.”

She felt frustrated with herself for being predictable. She’d need to come up with a new one.

“I don’t believe anyone else knows,” he offered.

She sighed and left for the changing rooms. 

She returned in her sparring clothes. She folded his sweater. “I can have this washed—”

“I’ll put it in my hamper.” He took it from her and set it over his pile of other worn clothes—having already changed into his sparring uniform earlier.

She bowed her head. “I apologize. You didn’t need to stand watch over—”

“I tried returning you to your quarters. It was entirely too loud. I’ll need to talk about the matter with Mother.”

She grimaced.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with such things, Katagiri. You should have alerted me to the nuisance sooner.”

She was going to be despised if he followed up on this and her part in it became known.

He frowned when she explained as much.

A very light sparring session, that was more for show, followed.

He was very tired but still scored several good hits on her.

If she wasn’t so proud of him, she’d be irritated. He really didn’t need her training him anymore. She’d fulfilled her task.

It made her feel wistful and unnecessary. They’d have fewer reasons to see one another going forward.

Oh well.

It was probably for the best.

He was soon to be married.

The less she saw him, the better it would be. 

She could take solace in her memories and devote herself more to Hollow-hunting patrols.

She half-intended to spend his eventual honeymoon out on patrols every night so she’d be too exhausted to be sad.

They left the training area an hour after others began entering the space.

The rest of her day continued normally. Young Master Ryūken went back to the main house. She returned to her lodgings and readied for her work shift.

She delivered the young master’s breakfast before he left for class. She cleaned, did laundry, vacuumed rooms, and lost herself in a well worn pattern of domestic tasks.

Tonight, she had a Hollow-hunting patrol.

Or did until—

“Katagiri, you’ve been reassigned to another unit,” her older, female captain explained.

“Changes?”

“You’re being transferred into the security suite of the main house.”

“Why?”

“It was decided. Prepare to move your belongings. Your new quarters are open. East Wing. First floor.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

The East Wing was for more veteran members of the household—the leaders of the entire family’s security detail. While she had a very important role as Young Master Ryūken Ishida’s guard, she wasn’t actively guarding the estate and the rest of his relatives as needed.

It was rather intimidating walking through the finer area. No stumbling in wounded or dirty here. The carpet wouldn’t forgive it.

“Katagiri!”

“Kimura!” 

That’s right! He’d been promoted to Mistress Izumi’s task force two years prior.

At least there was one friendly person here.

Kentaro Kimura beamed. His coal black hair was so neatly trimmed (unlike the shaggy mane she remembered) she hardly recognized him but his hazel eyes twinkled all the same. 

It reminded her of several late nights spent sneaking into the pantry for sweets—usually the stale ones that wouldn’t be missed. Because she wasn’t good at turning down a dare, especially at age seven.

It ended when they stumbled upon the Young Master waiting there.

“Katagiri, I keep sensing your spirit ribbon in here. What are you up to at this hour?” he demanded.

Kimura had pleaded with his eyes for her not to tell. But it was Young Master Ryūken…

On hearing her explanation, he’d immediately doled out three fresh cookies each (she and Kentaro had never dared take more than one stale one each—sometimes splitting a treat rather than risking discovery by being greedy).

Despite being fresher by far, they hadn’t tasted quite as sweet when handed over that way. She knew Kentaro felt the same.

The only problem was…

“If we choose certain nights, I can meet you and give permission. This way if we’re caught, I’ll take the blame,” the young master explained.

“No, sir. Thank you, sir. Permission to leave, sir?” 

“Granted.”

Kentaro bowed and left—cured. He stopped inviting her for such heists. Her spirit energy was a liability.

She sighed and stared down at her two remaining cookies.

“Do you not want them?”

She reluctantly tried to explain the thrill that he’d ruined.

He nodded solemnly and led her to a refrigerator where there were éclairs.

He promptly took one. “One missing is less noticeable.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait. That’s a much finer treat than what we were—it’ll be missed—”

He took a bite and smirked. “It’s done. It can’t be returned.”

She gasped. 

He laughed softly and moved the éclair tantalizingly close to her face. “Now you take a bite.” 

It felt like such a taboo, but he looked so excited to be “let in” on a game.

And she knew how that felt. Dares were some of the only fun things she got invited in on.

They took turns until it was gone.

“I like this game. Katagiri, you should have shared it with me sooner.” He pouted.

“I didn’t think you would like it.”

“I like fun,” he grumbled, the corners of his mouth were messy from the sweet. “Why wouldn’t I like fun, Katagiri?”

She giggled and got them both napkins.

“Here, I’ll help you get settled in,” Kentaro offered, taking a box from her. 

“I would appreciate that.”

Not that she owned much but it cut down how many treks up and down the stairs she needed to make, which was nice.

They’d trained together for years as children and rivals. Their relationship had gradually drifted apart as they saw one another less and less as they became teenagers and served in increasingly more specialized capacities.

This could be an opportunity to renew their friendship?!

Thank you, Master Ryūken, she thought fondly, already certain he was the reason for her new living space.

He’d given her a chance to reconnect with an old friend, knowing she was having trouble making new ones.

He was so kind.

“I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your hard work,” Kentaro told her seriously. “You deserve to be stationed in the main house. I don’t know why they’ve waited so long,” he told her firmly.

She felt her face heat at the compliment. “Thank you.”

It made her feel better about the situation. That her skills were noticed by others. That it wasn’t just the young master indulging her as he did sometimes.

“Here, I can help you settle in more,” her friend offered as he explored the space.

She blinked. “It’s alright. I can manage. I’m sure you’ve more important—”

“Well, actually, I’m trying to familiarize myself more with your spirit energy,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ll be leading our Hollow-hunting patrol this weekend.”

“Really?!”

“I know! It’ll be like old times!”

She smiled. They hadn’t served on the same patrol unit since they were twelve. “I’m on the oncall roster for Thursday.”

“Yumi heads that one. She’s gruff but you’ll respect her. She has this amazing longshot. You should request a demonstration.”

Maybe a little help wouldn’t hurt? She was tired from the long day and learning about her new neighbors and colleagues could be helpful.

There was a cooking suite in here.

She would need to invest in cookware. She could cook, which was more than what some of the other maids could boast, but it would be one more task to do for herself at the end of the day. She’d gotten spoiled having communal meals at the maids’ lodgings ever since her mother’s death. 

She’d need to reacquaint herself with silence as she ate.

“It’s early evening, but I’m certain there are still some places open. I can ask for a fleet car to drive you? Pots and pans are heavy,” Kentaro said.

She shook her head. “You’re doing too much for my sake.”

She didn’t want to take advantage of him.

He rubbed his neck and smiled. “It’s just so good to see—”

There was a sharp knock on the door—they’d kept it propped open with a chair for ease and propriety.

“Katagiri.”

Both Gemischts turned and bowed. 

“Young Master,” they greeted.

“Are the rooms to your liking?”

“They are wonderful,” she replied.

He nodded and moved forward to a window. “It was a guest room in this wing because of the view. It’s now been assigned to you. A woman shouldn’t be on the ground floor. Even in an estate like this where a break-in is unlikely, you need to be somewhere appropriate. I also want you to vow that you’ll begin locking your doors to ensure your safety.” 

He turned to her with an imperious expression.

“Yes, sir.”

He moved and pulled a long curtain back. “There’s a small balcony.” He unlocked the door and ushered her out. “The garden is below.”

“Ah, how wonderful.” Perhaps, she could buy a small bistro set and enjoy some tea out here?

“There has been talk from Mother in the past of installing French doors.”

She smiled at the view. The garden’s lights were sparkling off the koi pond.

She could hear the fountain.

“Very peaceful.”

“Yes. My room is oriented this way, too. Second floor. Right up there.”

“I’m across the way,” Kentaro said. “And on the ground floor.”

The young master did not acknowledge him. He gestured for them to go back inside the room and he closed and locked the door.

“Tomorrow, I will give you a layout of the main house so you’ll be able to plan escapes in the event of a disaster,” the young master told her.

“Thank you.”

The fall of the House of Katagiri was nearly fifty years before her birth, but the report was gruesome. They lacked escape routes and were trapped.

The photos…were awful.

She and Ryūken had broken into his father’s office to see them after eavesdropping on a conversation where her family was mentioned.

She wasn’t the tearful sort.

It wrenched sorrow from her.

“My…household…gone…I feel…so lost…” Her chest heaved.

Her father’s death was what had led to her and her mother coming to the Ishida Estate to work and enjoy the benefit of their protection.

But a longing for more understanding on her origins had led to their snooping. The young master had been very sympathetic.

It would be several years later that her mother would die in service battling Hollows. And she understood then that it would be her fate as well.

“This is your household now,” the young master told her firmly as her breaths came unevenly and she wondered aloud where she would go now. Now that her mother was dead. 

“You will stay here, Katagiri. Katagiri? Katagiri? Kanae?”

She’d been in a daze of chaotic thoughts. Her head jerked up at the sound of her given name.

His hands were heavy and tight on her shoulders. “Kanae, you don’t have to go anywhere because this is your place. Here. With me. This is your household. Now. Forever.”

Yes. It was. Because life was harsh. Households fell. Echts who’d survived the initial massacre of the Katagiris’ Household grew up, but they were tainted from their injuries and married one another. 

It was from one such union that a Gemischt son of Echt lineage was born. He laughed off the scorn and pity of being from a fallen family. He chose to marry a Gemischt rather than another fallen Echt. 

There was no spell-guarded estate for them to live on. Hollows were a constant danger. He died fighting monsters off so his wife and their young daughter could escape.

As survivors, Kanae and her mother had to be grateful to whoever took them in.

That was where love could lead one—ripped apart by Hollows. Absent to those who loved and depended on you. 

Marrying for love was no guarantee of anything.

She had no delusions. Her life wasn’t a fairytale.

She would do her best to live an honorable life. 

She wasn’t going to live a happy one.

Oh well.

“So you may plan accordingly,” The young master said levelly.

He understood. He sympathized. He never wanted her to feel trapped.

She nodded in appreciation. 

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“Sir?”

His expression tightened. “Yes, Kimura?”

“Katagiri needs cookware. May I use a fleet car to assist her this evening?”

“My mother’s task force is meeting tonight, is it not?”

“I do not think one absence—”

“My mother is particular. One absence will affect her.”

“Understood. Katagiri, I will arrange for us to go into the city tomorrow morning—”

“Katagiri can drive,” The young master remarked. “She has a license.”

“The supplies will be heavy.”

“Young Master Ryūken is right. I can drive. I need to use my skills before they are forgotten.” 

She hadn’t been required to drive for almost ten months! She desperately needed practice!

“Katagiri?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ll take my evening meal now.” 

All three young adults left the space. 

Kimura gave her a look.

She nodded and shrugged.

The young master didn’t realize that her shift had ended several hours ago and with her patrol night changed…she should have had the night to herself.

It was alright. She had the next day off.

Also, he ate better when it was her that served him meals, especially if she was involved in cooking some of it.

She knew his likes and dislikes very well.

“Katagiri?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Lock the door,” the young master reminded her sternly.

“Y-yes, sir.”

She’d need to get into the habit.

It was early in the morning at the admin office at the far side of the Ishida estate. They were understanding of her needs.

It was somewhat nice having something to really do on her day off, let alone something new and unusual.

It made filling out paperwork to use the fleet car sort of thrilling.

They complimented her straw hat and its ribbon which matched her dress and sun umbrella perfectly.

“Did you sew that dress yourself?”

“I did,” Kanae answered.

“It’s beautiful. I heard you were talented.”

“T-thank you. Y-you’re too kind.”

The older women were very nice to her and she confessed she was rather excited for the outing.

They wished her well and wrote down a number for her to call if there was any trouble. 

She was settling into the car and adjusting her mirrors when the passenger door opened.

“Y-young Master?!”

“You admitted your skills were rusty. You require supervision,” he replied flatly.

“…Is this alright? Don’t you have a study session?”

“Tonight.” He lifted her straw purse and matching hat to set them on his lap so they wouldn’t be crushed as he sat down and buckled himself in. He closed the door and looked around.

He approved of her packing a parasol. “It’s very bright today. Did you apply sunscreen?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’re…wearing perfume?”

She bit her lip. She was wearing some.

“It’s…my day off…maybe… it isn’t safe for you to be accompanying me.” She wasn’t dressed to guard him.

He frowned, guessing her thoughts. “I’m not a child. I understand the risks. Certainly, we can handle any unusual situation together?”

She didn’t want to upset him and accepted his directions on where to go.

They wound up in front of a high-line emporium.

“Sir?”

Pale blue eyes flickered her way. He seemed somewhat on edge.

“Did you wear perfume for a particular reason?” he asked abruptly after she parked.

“I like vanilla. It’s my day off.”

“No other reason?”

She blinked and then shrugged. “I used my vanilla body wash as well. I…apologize if it’s very strong. I…I do this on my days off.”

“And you wear your hair down?”

“Yes.”

“It’s fine. You look…smell…both, very nice today.”

She was half-sure she’d melt into a puddle.

“Do you need a new cord or chain for your necklace?”

She was wearing her father’s white jade pillar against the pale blue dress she was wearing.

“I am considering it. Perhaps, next month?” She could treat herself for her birthday as long as she didn’t overspend today.

“Are you trying to preserve the feel? Or do you want it stylized to a more feminine—”

“I like it this way.”

“Understood. Your birthday is next month. Would that be a suitable gift?” he asked.

She got flustered.

“I want your gift to be meaningful. That pendant is precious to you. I want the cord and clasp to be strong so it’s never lost,” he told her seriously.  

That he could so effortlessly understand what mattered to her and care as well.

“I would deeply appreciate such a gift,” she replied.

He nodded. “Good.”

He exited the car and surprised her by opening her door. “Don’t forget your parasol.”

The brief walk was surprisingly blistering. June was going to be miserable for her.

He held the door to the store open for her.

It became clear in three steps that she didn’t belong.

She hastily stepped back and bumped into the young master who caught her.

“Are you alright? Is your blood pressure—”

“Sorry. My budget is too modest to afford—”

“My actions resulted in your change of living arrangements. I will take responsibility for the supplies you need.”

“Sir?!” 

He steered her forward.

What in the world was he doing here?!

Judging.

Talking.

Appraising.

Speaking on her behalf because the retail associates spoke so quickly and were so pushy…they’d have scared her out immediately.

He was more particular than her about everything.

The silverware.

The dining ware.

The pots and pans and instruments.

He gave commands:

“Package this.”

“Package that.”

“I want to see this in blue.”

Katagiri hovered awkwardly beside him.

“Which do you prefer?” he asked. He did quick asides like that throughout the process to make sure she actually liked what was being selected for her.

One tea set was traditional. The other was Western.

She marveled over both which were blue and white and delicate and—

“Beautiful.”

“We’ll take both,” Young Master Ryūken decided.

Her face heated up.

The associate laughed lightly and mistook them for newlyweds.

He went as red as she did.

The associate laughed harder.

Neither corrected her for fear of making the awkward moment worse.

A complimentary set of couple’s chopsticks were given to them.

It made her heart beat terribly fast and it ached with a longing she braced against as she set the package in her purse.

He requested the car keys from her.

He had everything carried out to the car.

He wouldn’t let her see the receipt.

He helped her into the passenger’s seat and claimed the driver’s seat for himself.

Apparently, it was one thing to be mistaken for a doting husband.

It was another thing entirely for him to be mistaken for a husband who didn’t drive.

That was such a silly thing to be concerned about, she bit her lips but couldn’t hold back the smile.

“You still need groceries,” he announced without looking at her. His ears were still pink from embarrassment.

“Yes, I do,” she agreed.

He paid for those as well.

The future loomed over them, an ever-present storm cloud.

Auntie Izumi was determined to force her and Ryuu together.

Masaki’s stomach grew fitful at the thought.

It would be mean, though honest, to tell her cousin that thinking of him romantically gave her a stomachache.

Izumi was also determined that Masaki reach her full potential with training.

Ryuu was a prodigy.

It was kinda annoying. He didn’t understand why some techniques were hard for her.

A quizzical eyebrow would raise and he’d say, “You’re an Echt. You should be able to do this.”

It was clear he didn’t have much left to learn from Kanae, if anything.

But he repeatedly asked for her to spar with him.

It gradually dawned that he knew he had surpassed her. He just liked sparring with her.

Katagiri warmly congratulated him as he out scored her and stated that she had nothing more to instruct him on. 

He rejected her evaluation and insisted he needed more training.

Masaki’s arrows kept drifting a little ways off from the center of the target because she was rubbernecking.

She’d seen them both exit a fleet car the other day. He’d walked around to help her out and had other servants help carry up her bags.

There was talk. There was lots of talk.

Ryuu had moved Katagiri into the main house. Into a fancy guest room that bordered the Security Suite of the East Wing. It seemed to confirm that Katagiri was like the Security Team but separate. Different. Special.

Aunt Izumi was annoyed.

She’d overheard Auntie complaining to Uncle.

“I agreed that she needed to be well rested to perform her duties. I said he could move her. I didn’t sanction that room.”

“It is done.”

“You know how this looks.”

“…”

“Attention like this?”

“…”

Izumi sighed. “He needs to be married and married quickly before he… succumbs to impulse.”

Sōken sighed. “I can speak with him again, but I doubt it will do much good.”

Ryuu singled Katagiri out for large-scale kind gestures he didn’t make to others.

The Walkman was the thing Masaki had noticed.

But there were other signs. He adjusted his schedule and timing to not exacerbate Katagiri’s health. He didn’t often go out on very sunny or humid days. 

He would lift or carry things that were heavy so she wouldn’t have to.

He would always eat if Katagiri brought him his meal.

He was getting more blatant.

Apparently, Ryuu had bought Katagiri an array of housewarming gifts for her new room.

It looked suspicious to everyone except Katagiri, who acted the same as she always did—quiet, polite, a bit oblivious…

Maybe she didn’t notice?

The rest of them sure did.

There were surreptitious glances and whispers. 

Masaki was the selected wife as arranged by Mistress Izumi.

Katagiri was the desired mistress as chosen by Young Master Ryūken.

Not exactly the happy future home life any of them had probably dreamt of for themselves as children.

Katagiri was demonstrating different arrow tips she could manifest while Ryūken watched intently.

“The arrowhead and the bolt diameter can assist in taking down—”

An alarm rang through the training facility.

Katagiri apologized for being unable to complete the session.

She waved another Gemischt who was not on the back up roster for tonight’s hunt to continue in her stead.

She gestured at the young man and her fingers brushed his bicep. They both blushed a little at the unexpected contact.

“Kimura is strong and swift,” she offered. “I know this as a fact. He’s closer to your height and weight which could be beneficial for you if you want to practice hand-to-hand combat. He won’t be so easy to flip over your shoulder—”

“You train together often?” Ryūken asked.

“As children it was nearly every day, Young Master,” Katagiri explained. “We’ve resumed training together this past week. He is so much taller now.”

Kimura grinned. “Katagiri is every bit as fierce as I remember. I’ve taken more bruises from her in the past few days than any opponent of mine in the last few years.”

“You exaggerate,” Katagiri scolded with an easy air Masaki had never witnessed before.

Katagiri felt comfortable with Kimura. They were equals. 

“I wish.”

Masaki watched as the two Gemischts shared a smile. There weren’t many male Gemischts in the household. Masaki could tell several other maids were watching him with great interest and longing. 

“When?”

Both Gemischts turned to face Ryūken once more.

“When do you train together?” he asked.

It was typically midmorning while he was in class.

“I see.”

Katagiri discreetly checked the clock.

Ryūken noticed and dismissed her.

She bowed to him and then left to go act as support for the patrol.

Ryūken didn’t hold any strength back. His next bout with the male Gemischt was brutal and short. 

Ryūken was stronger and swifter. 

“Go. Help my cousin. I have no need of you,” he remarked before leaving the training area.

Sporting a bleeding lip, Kimura nodded and helped with Masaki’s training until the hour ended even as concerned maids repeatedly checked in on him.

Masaki found her cousin brooding in an upstairs parlor near a window that oversaw the gate.

At first, she was determined to rebuke him.

It was awful to treat servants like they were disposable.

It made her feel vile. It made her feel sick. It made her feel wrong.

They were Echts. They were supposed to be powerful. And yet, they were all potential.

With powers like theirs, they should be the ones on the frontlines.

So much skill and yet, very little experience.

“Ryuu, why were you so mean to Kimura?” she demanded.

It was an abuse of both strength and social standing.

It was below him in every way to act like that. It was out of character. It alarmed her.

“I apologize for the violence. I needed to test my strength.” His tone was soft and level as it often was with her. His face was turned away. 

She was certain his expression was frigid.

He didn’t like being questioned.

She didn’t like being lied to.

She set her hands on her hips. “You knew you were stronger.”

His back stiffened.

She glared. “Tell me why you did that to him?”

He opened the window to let in a humid breeze. “…I… don’t like him.”

“Ryuu!”

It was a ridiculous reason, but he looked pained to admit it as he faced her briefly before looking away again.

“Ryūken, why?!”

“Masaki…leave it… please.”

Chapter Text

Kanae’s eyes narrowed and she gripped her bow tightly.

Two Shinigami and then two Gemischts had already fallen in this battle before she had arrived.

There was a lot of blood on the pavement so she stayed in the air on reishi.

Another Gemischt was wounded and being guarded by Kapitänin Yumi Hano and Kouta Yaguchi who were trying to arrange emergency services for a specialty ambulance pickup, using their fellow Gemischt contacts at the hospital.

The Menos Grande howled again, making Kanae’s bones vibrate.

Her spirit detection had warned her almost immediately that there were two halves to it.

Two halves.

She glanced over at Akane Ito, a servant just a little younger than her, who kept looking at the patrol instead of the Hollow.

“Akane,” she warned. “Focus.”

“Kanae, it’s too fast. I should go down there and help with the pickup. You and Yaguchi would be better. The tongue—”

“No, there are two tongues because it’s—”

Before she could relay it, the monster split.

Kanae instinctually dodged using hirenkyaku and drew her bowstring back.

She fired her bow and destroyed the top half in one shot before it could regenerate.

CRUNCH!

Akane was dead before she hit the ground. Torso flattened from a harsh bite.

A small mercy. She hit with a wet crunch that bent her head at an unnatural angle.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

She hadn’t employed enough forethought.

Had always cared more about boys and hairstyles than honing her spirit detection skills. 

These were mean thoughts that did no good.

Kanae split the bottom Hollow with a high powered arrow as it charged her.

She stared at the blood pooling on the sloped sidewalk and spilling into the rain gutter.

“Katagiri, you did well,” Kapitänin Hano called from where she was performing a healing spell on their injured squadmate.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I’ll wait for the ambulance and pick up,” Kapitänin Hano stated. “You and Miyu head back.”

Katagiri had barely even registered Miyu as being present, which she sort of wasn’t.

It seemed she was in shock.

Kanae gave another glance at the fallen Gemischt.

Oh.

Miyu’s twin, Mayu, had died.

That was why…

Kanae nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yaguchi, escort them.”

He frowned. “You’ll be waiting alone.”

“Miyu is stunned. She’ll be no good if there’s another attack. We can’t have the young master’s guard injured on her return because her partner is out of sorts.”

“Right.”

Kanae balanced Miyu on her reishi board.

Yaguchi kept giving her less than friendly looks.

Kanae was growing tired of it.

She smiled blandly. “Yes?”

“So you’re Master Ryūken’s personal maid but you still need an escort?” the middle aged man sniffed.

“I am his guard,” she corrected.

He made a sound of disbelief. “Right.”

Challenges had been frequent in her childhood for the right to keep her position.

She’d kept that from her gentle young master. Why upset him with such barbaric details? He’d be alarmed at all the fights she’d had to endure to keep her place beside him.

He was so softhearted.

That was alright; she would protect him.

Unfortunately, reactions like Yaguchi’s weren’t uncommon.

The domestication training she’d received was intended to help blend her into the household when humans visited. Plus, it was a difficult task to upkeep the huge Ishida estate without help. Also, it was meant to prepare her for matrimony.

But she wasn’t going to get into all of that with him.

He’d probably tease her for her unmarried state.

Not understanding that she’d been extremely fortunate that no one had expressed interest in her as wifely material.

Puberty had not come with explosive changes to her shape or personality. 

She looked largely the same as she had as a child, albeit bigger.

She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t dazzling. 

No one looked on her with lust. 

She was somewhat like a lamp. Nondescript. Useful. Noticeable if she were missing or an eyesore but forgotten when there and upholding her obligations. 

It was alright. 

Too much attention made her self-conscious.

Being ignored let her devote herself entirely to her duty.

Yaguchi left them at the Estate to return to Hano as backup.

Kanae showered and changed clothes to a maid uniform once more.

Protocols needed to be followed.

It was up to her to empty Mayu and Akane’s lockers as Miyu wailed.

The male Gemischt’s locker could be emptied by Yaguchi later.

Miyu hadn’t bothered to shower and change yet. She was too caught up in her horror and grief, she released another shuddering wail.

That was the sound that put Kanae on edge.

Mother had made that sound when Father died. After. When they were far enough away from the Hollows. Where her grief wouldn’t mean their death.

Another Gemischt entered the room with a look of concern.

Kanae greeted her, “Hello Michiru, would you help Miyu? I can finish your chores. Tonight’s patrol was rather upsetting.”

“M-Mayu…” the younger woman whined.

Michiru’s face immediately grew sympathetic. She was closer to the twins.

She swallowed hard. “The dishes are already dealt with.”

“The clothing loads?” Kanae asked.

“Done.”

“Then, it’s just bedsheets and then our patrol uniforms?” Kanae confirmed.

Michiru’s voice broke a little. “Yes.”

Kanae nodded. “I can manage that.”

“…Thank you, Katagiri. C-come on, Miyu, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The following quiet was good.

Better.

The bedsheets were taken out of the dryers and she ironed them before folding them crisply.

She sensed Kapitänin Hano and Yaguchi’s spirit ribbons make their return to speak with Mistress Izumi and Young Master Ryūken.

Afterwards, they were surprised to track her down and find her working alone.

She explained Miyu’s distress and her offer to Michiru.

“Do you want me to make a report?” Kanae asked. “I don’t feel Miyu is up for it. Mine can be on both of our behalf.”

She wasn’t the best at consoling others, especially people she wasn’t very close to. A nervousness could set in and tangle her tongue or freeze it.

But she could work.

She could hold strong.

She could do this for them.

She could make the report.

Kapitänin Hano’s mouth tightened. “You’re doing enough as it is. It can wait for the morning. The Mistress has turned in. Make sure you sleep. I’m rearranging your schedule to start later.”

“Understood.”

They showered and changed and dropped off their garments. 

Surprisingly, Yaguchi thanked her before he left.

Kanae’s head was bowed as she watched more bloodied clothing swirl in the special washers for Gemischt battle uniforms.

At least she was clean.

Her clothing was clean.

Her mind…

CRUNCH!

After she finished this last load of laundry, she could shower one final time and then go to sleep.

She pretended her ears weren’t ringing with the howls and then the wails.

She missed her parents.

Father took her to festivals at this time of year. 

She was small. He’d let her ride on his shoulders. 

She’d wear hair ornaments and ribbons. And he’d proclaim her the best and fairest daughter a father could ask for. A “Princess Brunhilde” whom he’d have to guard from giants and they’d both laugh and if she reached up she was certain she could brush her fingers against a lantern’s tassels.

“Katagiri? I haven’t heard your report of the events,” Ryūken said.

Her head snapped up and she hastily stood up.

Her voice wasn’t quite level when she spoke, “It is very late. Kapitänin Hano informed me to wait until tomorrow.”

He frowned. “I am telling you to inform me now.”

She heard the CRUNCH of Akane’s death.

“Surely, it can wait…Young Master has classes in the morning and should go rest.”

It was the lightest of rebukes and really a request to be alone.

Ryūken called her out immediately. 

Light blue eyes narrowed. She had no standing to “command anything of him.”

He was in a rare fit of temper.

She swallowed a sigh.

She heard the second CRUNCH of Akane’s landing.

She agreed and apologized. She was worried about contamination.

The garments had human and hollow blood on them.

The young master noticeably cringed and retreated from the room.

Figuring that took care of him for the night, she sat back down.

The heels of her feet hurt. She needed to make a complaint about high heeled shoes being part of her battle uniform. Why not short boots?

Something with better arch support?

The swirling clothes and the hum of the machine were lulling her back into a drowsy state.

Father…

Mother…

She missed them so…

She didn’t expect the young master to return through the alternate entrance or that Masaki would be there.

He scolded his soon-to-be-announced fiancée, “Masaki! Do not spy on Katagiri.”

There was a muffled sort of keening. Masaki was upset that Akane and Mayu were dead.

News had already spread.

“They were so nice, Ryuu! Especially Akane!”

Kanae felt her spirit sink. 

Yes. Lots of people thought that.

It was true, mostly.

She had never been deliberately mean to Kanae persay, but she’d never invited her into any of her groups or tried to engage her in conversation.

But she was well-liked.

Well-liked in ways Kanae would never be.

If she had been the one instead, would anyone be half so heartbroken?

“Go to bed, Masaki,” he ordered gently.

“Ryuu, grant her some privacy. She shouldn’t have to make a report—”

“Go. To. Bed,” he repeated more firmly.

He reentered the laundry room. He had gloves and a surgical mask on now.

“Katagiri?”

She stood, turned, and bowed.

“Katagiri?”

He came close enough that their toes were nearly touching.

She took a steadying breath to compose herself. 

Would anyone wail for Kanae?

“Kat—”

“I killed the Menos Grande. Both halves.” Just not before it had caused so much harm.

“Well done.”

Her smile and her body trembled, her words didn’t as she made her report.

He refused to leave the space until the uncertainty left her frame.

He nodded approvingly. “You followed all protocols, Katagiri.”

She had.

“I am relieved Ito’s slow reactions didn’t compromise your safety.”

“T-thank you, young master.”

He sat near her and watched as she transferred the final load of laundry to be dried.

She left to take her final cleansing shower.

He surprised her by still being there when she returned.

Her long hair was down and wet and the robe she was wearing was getting soaked through.

She’d done that on purpose, knowing the walk back to the maids quarters would be hot and sticky. And it was never kept as cool as the main house.

She also hadn’t planned on anyone seeing her, besides an occasional night guard.

Oh well. He had a special talent for catching her in embarrassing predicaments.

“Goodnight, Young Master.” She bowed and started for the exit that would lead outside.

“Where are you going, Katagiri?” 

“To bed, sir.”

“You are on the first floor.” He sounded strangely touchy.

She stared and then realized he was right.

Her quarters had changed!

“I forgot. Oh no, I need a towel or I’ll drip everywhere.”

She hurried back over to the linen rack and grabbed one and wrapped her hair up.

He was frowning behind the mask. 

His eyebrows had drawn fiercely together. “Why did you…?”

“I forgot. Sometimes, my previous quarters got warm and stuffy. If I did this, I could remain cool for the night.”

“You should have informed me your room was uncomfortable. Perhaps, I could have moved you sooner?”

She waved her hands in a “no” manner. “Much too kind as it is.”

If he had done that sooner, before she had fully accepted her place, she shuddered to think what a fool she’d have made of herself.

He frowned. “You should dry it. Sleeping with wet hair can damage it. Your scalp could also become susceptible to bacterial and fungal conditions.”

“Yes, sir.” She was going to sleep the minute she entered her room and touched down on the bed.

He escorted her there and didn’t leave.

“Sir?”

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

“…” No. She didn’t. She just wanted to sleep. Her bed was right there.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

“No.” She looked longingly at the bed.

“I’ll return shortly.”

She just wanted to sleep.

He returned, without a mask and gloves, to give her his hair dryer and explain how it worked.

“See? There are different settings.”

The warm air was nice because the Main House was kind of cold and her earlier plan now meant she was getting a little shivery. 

It explained why the Young Master always wore thicker sweaters and trousers. 

Kanae was usually busy enough that anything beyond her uniform made her overheat.

“This could take you a while.” He moved a chair over for her to sit on. “Now brush and dry. That’s how I…no, use the brush I brought. It’s hollow so the hot air goes through. Be careful, the machine and the brush can get hot.”

She got about half of her hair dry and then no longer cared. Her arms were sore. This required a level of patience and ambidexterity she couldn’t manage right now. Though, she was sure to thank the young master for his thoughtfulness.

So he could leave and she could sleep. 

His face twitched and he took over the task. “Can’t just…sloppy.”

He could get amusingly persnickety in things like that.

Such a perfectionist.

But he was trying to show her care. That he cared. With his medical and…beautician knowledge.

Her lips curved in a smile.

He was always more fashion conscious than her. She just wore what she liked or what was comfortable or acceptable.

She glanced into the mirror where his face was frowning in concentration.

While he’d probably never wail for her as she would for him in the event of death, this was very kind.

And kindness had a way of making her feel safe…a way beyond castle-wall spells and training.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

When she awoke in the midmorning, she found herself tucked in bed.

The door’s inside lock had been set along with a Quincy spell as a backup since Young Master Ryūken hadn’t been able to leave and slide the deadbolt home.

There was a note on her bedside table scolding her:

Katagiri, 

You should not fall asleep in a bedroom with a man you aren’t married to, especially in such a state of undress. While I’m flattered you trust me, you need to be aware that other men aren’t as honorable as I am. Please exercise caution. 

Ishida

She supposed she earned that. Though, she wasn’t entirely sure why this place was different from the archive or the library or the training room.

She had a robe and jinbei on. It was more than what she was wearing the other night.

Oh well.

She ran a hand through her hair and was pleased with how silky it felt.

Perhaps, she should invest in one of those dryers? Maybe a cheaper one?

When she got up to brush her teeth, she found another note.

Beside the hair dryer was: This is now yours.

It would’ve been reasonable to assume it was for reasons of contamination that he wouldn’t want to use something after a Gemischt had but…

They’d shared food often as children.

When she was younger, she’d swooned at all of those “indirect kisses.”

So foolish.

The memories still made her smile though.

The afternoon found her smiling blandly.

Kanae had forgotten how talkative Kentaro was.

It didn’t help that she was very tired. Funeral preparations were being made for the three Gemischts who had fallen. 

There was still hope that Yamada, who was critically injured, may still pull though.

Kentaro’s antics were meant as a kind distraction.

He’d seen her face and immediately replied, “I heard.”

So she didn’t have to explain anything.

He was surprisingly bruised.

She frowned. “Did you put up a fight at all for the Young Master?”

“I survived. I wasn’t knocked out. It was a miracle.”

She tisked, “We’ll have to train more so you can offer him a better challenge.”

He shuddered at the prospect.

She wondered if she ought to tell him that Ryūken wasn’t very good at grappling but…it felt like somewhat of a betrayal to say that outright.

She and Kentaro could just practice that and he could put two and two together.

Ryūken needed more practice fighting someone in his weight class. 

Seeing she was melancholy, Kentaro took her along on his whirlwind adventure of being put in charge over some new inventory items.

Loud voices sometimes startled her even on a normal day. He was rather loud as a rule.

Still, he was so unwaveringly nice and accommodating to her that she was willing to put up with it.

“He’s grating to the ears.”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed readily and then flushed.

The young master smirked at her slip up. 

When had he gotten here? He was still wearing his university satchel on one shoulder so he’d just come home.

“He means well,” she blurted out hastily.

“Hmm.”

“…”

“Do you like the hair dryer? What it can do?” His eyes appraised her hair which was down. He was pleased with his handiwork.

It was very glossy and straight.

“Y-yes. I hope gifting it hasn’t inconvenienced you?”

His hair looked a little…different, less coiffed. 

“I’ve ordered a replacement,” he assured.

“Kanae!” Kentaro called. “Take pity! Make these instructions make sense!”

She giggled. 

“You two get along?” Mistress Izumi asked, abruptly coming into view from behind a pillar. She was holding a familiar folder for memorial services. “You and Kimura?”

Kanae schooled her expression to something more professional. “Yes, Mistress. Is there a task you need us for?”

It was possible they’d need to submit articles honoring their fallen comrades to the newspaper or head to a flower shop to retrieve orders.

“Not at this time, but that is good to know.” She walked away.

The young master was frowning as he watched his mother leave.

“Sir?”

He looked her way.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Kanae asked.

“No.”

“You can help me,” Kentaro repeated as he struggled with the overly large and complicated foldout pamphlet for the floor-waxer he’d unboxed. “The Japanese version is terrible. You’re better at German and English than me. Give it a go. See if you can figure out what Step 16 is supposed to be.”

She nodded and moved forward.

“Actually, yes, there is a matter,” the young master decided.

She blinked and turned back to him. “Yes, sir.”

It was a very boring matter. It seemed sophisticated and she was determined to help but…

He looked up from his speech. “It’s rather dry isn’t it?”

“I apologize. Perhaps, if I read it?”

“No need.” He set it down. “I need to improve the rhetoric. It’s not persuasive. It’s dull. It’s for a communications class.”

Should she agree? Disagree?

Her silence was telling and he smiled a little before frowning suddenly.

“Sir?”

“Why was Kimura so intent on seeing your bedroom the other day?”

She blinked. “He helped me carry things. The service stairs are steep.”

“You could have used the front.”

And made the Mistress crazy with indignation. 

She half-imagined it and the corner of her mouth lifted.

He guessed her thoughts and raised an eyebrow. “Mother isn’t quite that unreasonable.”

She nodded. “…”

“He was with you today, too.”

“Yes. I think he is trying to cheer me up. Or at least…not permit me to be alone.”

“I see. Do you…do you like your new tea sets?”

“Hm? Very much, sir.”

“Have you used them?”

“Not yet.”

“Come, let’s remedy that. Perhaps, it will soothe you from…last night’s events and inspire me for my speech?”

Masaki had a nose for freshly baked treats.

It led her to Katagiri’s new living quarters.

She took another deep breath and nearly drooled.

It was so great she was closer now. Good luck stopping all the treats now Auntie! she thought.

The door had been left open. She peered inside.

She’d also get to see how Katagiri was holding up.

“Did you sew that apron?” Ryūken’s voice asked.

“I did!” Kanae looked over her shoulder and smiled.

Masaki smiled, too.

The blue fabric matched her eyes. 

The ruffles were very whimsical.

“Very fetching,” Ryūken complimented. “The color…your eyes…obviously…”

“Thank you…sir.”

Katagiri looked happy which was a relief, she’d looked so stony and cold last night.

The kettle whistled.

She grabbed a matching mitt and pulled it off the stove.

Masaki knew she should knock but she didn’t want to startle Katagiri as she worked.

She glanced over at her cousin who hadn’t noticed her yet.

He was seated and waiting to be served.

Spoiled brat, Masaki thought fondly.

Katagiri had been given the day off after the hectic battle.

And he was here being pesky.

Though, Masaki winced, she was being pesky, too. Showing up to beg for sweets.

She studied Ryūken again.

He seemed relaxed. Which looked good on him, he was always kind of uptight.

He was enjoying the tranquility here.

There was soft music playing from a record player.

The doors to the balcony were open and the drapes moved gracefully with the breeze.

There was a small vase on the table with a flowers from the nearby trellis beside the balcony.

As Kanae would never think to harvest estate blooms for herself, Ryūken must’ve cut them for her.

Masaki grinned. Her cousin was smoother than she thought.

She took a deep breath.

The aroma!

Katagiri always made the best tea.

Masaki’s mouth watered as the tray was set down—it was laden with treats, too!

She knocked.

“Oh, Mistress Masaki? How may I help you?”

Ryūken didn’t quite frown at her but he wasn’t pleased.

“It just smells so good here, I had to come and see.”

“I’m sure Young Master Ryūken wouldn’t mind your company.”

Her cousin shrugged. “…It is not my place to invite people into your living space.”

“Then, I welcome you, Young Mistress,” Katagiri replied warmly.

It made Masaki choke up for half a second because that warmth in her eyes reminded her of the home she’d lost.

She forced cheer into her voice. “You’re the kindest, Katagiri, I swear! Oh…”

There were only two chairs.

“Please take a seat,” Katagiri entreated even as it meant giving up her own.

Ryūken stood and went to the small study desk. He brought over a chair from there.

Masaki expected him to grant it to Katagiri, only to watch him use the high-backed and somewhat more stately chair for himself.

So…despite saying just seconds ago that he wasn’t the master of this space…he set the chair at the head of the table and then took it for himself.

Masaki was now sitting across from him and Katagiri was to his left.

She wasn’t going to worry about it, not when the desserts were good.

“Did you make this from scratch?” Masaki gestured to the baumkuchen.

Katagiri answered, “Yes, it’s a slightly different recipe than what I usually follow.”

“I like this,” Ryūken stated firmly.

She smiled. “I’m glad.”

Being blunt meant he’d be sure to receive this treat again.

Though, anything she made Ryuu tended to be delicious.

Masaki had swiped treats from him before.

Masaki had asked her before if she’d prefer to be a chef rather than a maid as her domestic trade. 

She insisted she needed to be able to walk around more—that reporting to one place continuously could stifle her spirit. Though, she’d help out in a pinch. 

Masaki took a few more shiroi koibito for herself.

“Masaki, don’t take them all,” Ryūken grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“You get her cooking all the time, Ryuu! I don’t get—”

“It’s quite alright, sir. I can simply make more.”

“I’ll help!” Masaki volunteered.

Katagiri didn’t complain even as Masaki proved to be more of a hindrance than a help. Only the ninja maid’s reflexes kept them from bumping into one another or dropping things.

Ryūken grew exasperated and half-dragged her away to give Katagiri the room she needed to work.

They sat and watched the brunette and took turns changing the records out so music could continue playing in the background.

“She reminds me of my mom in moments like this,” Masaki confided to him softly. “I mean, I know they’re totally different in lots of other ways and Katagiri is just a few years older than me but there’s this soft…niceness.”

Like coming into a dark room after a nightmare and hearing a voice kind enough that all the fear left even before a cloud moved and moonlight filtered in.

“Then, you were very fortunate.” Though he said it without resentment, they both knew how harsh Izumi could be.

“…Yeah. I bet Katagiri’s going to be a great mom,” Masaki continued, “I’m almost jealous of her future kid.”

“…” He stared at her with a weird expression.

That did sound kind of stupid and juvenile and her cheeks flushed but she didn’t back down. “Think, Ryuu! All the meals and sweets! The neat clothes and crafty projects! Oh! And she’ll be great at teaching archery and combat! She’ll teach Katagiri II how to kick butt while looking good and having something cooking in a crockpot.”

“…Katagiri the Second?” His eyebrow twitched.

“Ryuu?”

“Katagiri…as a mother?” 

The gears in his head were having trouble with this.

Masaki frowned. Why did he have to make it sound like something outlandish?

Katagiri had plenty of good qualities.

Masaki had thought he liked the ninja maid.

“Yeah.”

“Why…why would her child have her surname?” he asked.

“Huh?”

He crossed his arms. “Her child would have the father’s surname.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know for sure who she’s sweet on. And she’s not betrothed to anybody. So, the betting pool is going pretty strong and I don’t want to tease her with the wrong guy if she has someone in mind.”

He looked scandalized. “Betting pool?!”

Masaki blinked. “Uh, yeah. The servants have all kinds of betting pools.”

“Kentaro won some money. He’d made a bet earlier this week that Katagiri would fell a Hollow before the end of the week. She took out that Menos Grande. That’s two!”

“He bet on Katagiri?” he sounded appalled.

“Lots of people do. For Hollow-hunting at least.”

“I do not approve.”

Masaki rolled her eyes, like that was a surprise.

Katagiri rejoined them at the table with a light blue kitchen timer. “And now we wait.”

“Katagiri, were you aware there’s a betting pool which involves you?”

“It’s alright, Young Master. The winners usually contribute to my crafting funds.”

“I will need to report this behavior to Mother,” he muttered flatly.

Masaki and Katagiri sighed.

Ryūken could be such a snitch.

Ryūken tried not to notice how Masaki kept missing her mouth with her fork.

Sōken was amused.

Ryūken was at the ready, distracting his mother’s attention from his guard’s antics.

Soon, they were all helping him—asking Izumi’s opinions on everything.

She seemed flattered by the sudden onslaught of attention and didn’t notice Katagiri using reishi footholds to clean some of the tallest mirrors in the dining room.

There’d been a mixup in the maids’ schedules; a mistake that Mistress Izumi herself was at fault for, which meant she had to hold her tongue and allow the maids to clean while the family was eating dinner in order to catch everything up for the next day when they had company; the Ishidas were considering making a large donation to Karakura University’s medical program.

They already owned the hospital.

It was known that there was a pipeline from the university to the hospital.

They’d had Ishidas and their household members in the city’s general hospital for years. 

Having household members there helped with having a store of blood on hand. If there were injuries their estate’s supplies couldn’t cover, they had access. They could also keep an eye and separate blood that had been contaminated from Hollows and ensure the Echts wouldn’t be exposed if they were treated in the hospital; Gemischts also benefited.

There was the added bonus of being able to keep tabs on the city.

Injuries and autopsies let them know where Hollow activity was most frequent and they could assign patrols to deal with it when reapers fell in battle.

Izumi liked things being in order and caught up. Everywhere.

The problem was, she had no patience.

The other maids had already been dismissed for being too loud or too distracting.

Katagiri was calm, quiet, efficient, and graceful as she worked.

Mirror-cleaning was the final task.

Katagiri was petite. Only slightly taller than Masaki and much slimmer.

Masaki didn’t like to think of her fighting Hollows when it looked like a good wind could knock her down.

And her saying that outloud made Ryūken worry even though he knew his guard was capable.

Very capable.

So capable that they’d all wondered how she’d get a ladder in without causing a ruckus.

She didn’t bother and used reishi. footholds. 

On seeing her reach the very top of the last mirror, Masaki mouthed the words “ninja maid” at Ryūken who shook his head in amusement.

It was the quietly triumphant expression on Katagiri’s face as she finished and reported to Mistress Izumi that the tasks were completed that made them all feel like they shared in her victory.

It was stupid that he half-wished she needed to stay and polish the silver.

He watched her walk away.

He was supposed to be glad that his whole family was eating together.

Father had returned from Fünft Feld unharmed and somewhat sociable. He sometimes injured himself dabbling in things he probably shouldn’t.

Only, when Ryūken ate alone, Katagiri stayed to attend to him and they could talk about whatever they wanted.

When he ate with his family, he had to be mostly silent.

He wished Masaki hadn’t barged in the other day when he and Katagiri had been having tea.

It meant they couldn’t really talk the way they would if it were only the two of them.

He frowned as he recalled Masaki’s random rambling.

Katagiri the Mother…

And Katagiri the Second…

It conjured the bizarre image of his guard going into battle with a dark-haired toddler strapped to her.

“It’s important to kill the Hollow in one shot,” she explained as her toddler sucked a pacifier. “Pay close attention. Mommy will show you how it’s done.”

There were probably rules that would prevent that, right? 

He could do some research in the archives after dinner, just in case.

It unsettled him.

Katagiri was Katagiri. Yes, she had the…biological necessities required for…

He felt his face heat up.

He got more annoyed as he recalled what else Masaki had said.

“And she’s not betrothed to anybody. So, the betting pool is going pretty strong and I don’t want to tease her with the wrong guy if she has someone in mind.”

If it was unnerving to consider Katagiri suddenly having a child in tow…contemplating there being a father for that child…was…

His stomach flopped and his appetite fled. 

“Mother?”

“Yes, Son?”

“I was made aware that there are multiple betting pools among the servants.”

If nothing else, investigating this would allow him to see the names being considered as potential suitors for her.

He ignored Masaki’s huff.

Father’s look was a little sharper.

He stared back. Surely, he didn’t condone it?!

“A betting pool?!” his mother gasped. “How shameless and low-class. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Ryūken nodded primly.

No one should be betting on Katagiri. 

Profiting off her bravery and sense of duty…relying on her dedication to training while they sat back and watched.

Joking about her as a woman and her prospects.

All of it made him angry.

She was too kind to put a stop to it herself.

So he’d do what was necessary.

He would protect her for a change.

Chapter Text

“He’s so cute,” Kanan squealed in Masaki’s ear. “You’re so lucky you get to live with him.”

Masaki grimaced. 

Kanan said that constantly.

Sometimes, she would tag along with Masaki to glimpse him practicing archery at a private range.

Her friend’s crush was so embarrassing. She really felt like everyone needed to stop and worship her cousin’s good looks. 

Masaki half-expected her to start a fan club.

Thankfully, Shiho was trying to shush her, too. And Ryuu was being a good sport and pretending he couldn’t hear them. 

His expression stayed neutral.

His ears, however, were turning pink.

She kept ogling him.

When he did have to talk to them, his smile was a bit forced. Like, he knew he was supposed to be flattered by the attention but it really just made him uncomfortable in his skin.

A couple of his friends, who’d also come along, kept teasing him, too. 

For being a “popular pretty boy.”

“All the girls want him, even the up and comers. Geez Ryuu, spare some for the rest of us.”

He gave a slight, disarming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He knew how to keep his head down and endure the flattery and the envy. 

It was best to be passive.

Masaki could understand his feelings there.

Her body had developed early. She had gotten tons of attention from people; some of it was admiring and some it was gross. Sometimes, all one could do was grin and bear it.

They’d gone to a retro 50s American-style diner. Kind of gimmicky but the black and white tiles and the red seats and the turquoise coloring was weirdly fun.

Ryuu didn’t like it.

She was getting better at reading him.

Though, she couldn’t exactly tell if it was the ambience, the menu, or the company that was making him cringe.

The doors opened and a gaggle of young women entered.

Masaki perked up.

Those were maids from the estate meeting up on their day off.

There were smiles and giggles. There were helpful adjustments between friends as hair ornaments were straightened and earrings were untwisted.

Masaki felt a twinge of envy. They were like built-in friends.

Some of them had balloons and flowers.

She felt a longing in her heart for camaraderie.

Her school friends were great but they always had to go home at the end of the day and there were parts of her life she couldn’t share with them.

If she could make friends with the Gemischts at the Estate, maybe it could feel more like a home?

Auntie felt less like family and more like a pedigree judge at a dog show.

Uncle was nice but absent…and sometimes distant and reserved even when he was present.

Ryūken was her cousin who was never quite comfortable being himself with her or anybody.

There was a squeal and she watched two friends embrace.

They never touched her.

Even Katagiri was pretty careful that their hands rarely met when exchanging items.

The staff could be nice with her but…there was always a line they couldn’t cross.

Echt and Gemischt.

It was stupid.

They were all people. There had to be a way for her to succeed. To break that wall down.

Ryuu glanced over at them boredly and then he looked sharply back at the door.

Katagiri entered while folding a parasol.

She was in a dark blue dress with a white grid pattern that went down to her ankles with a light white sweater.

Masaki smiled.

She looked comfy. No heels or pantyhose or starched aprons.

Her hair was down. She was wearing her white jade necklace.

Her straw woven purse was cute.

Masaki wondered idly if she’d made it; she was awfully crafty.

The young woman hovered a bit outside of the group.

She looked a bit out of place among them—dressed so casually.

The others were really done up.

No one greeted her.

Several minutes passed.

No one greeted her.

Masaki began to feel bad.

The appetizers for Masaki’s group arrived. The good smells and sights weren’t quite enough to distract her.

Ryūken shifted in his seat in a way that meant he was thinking of getting up. He was at the edge of their booth so he could do so pretty easily.

A server brought out a large dessert for the servants’ group.

Masaki’s eyes lit up. Oooh, German chocolate cake!

And it was big enough.

Good! Kanae had started looking sad. 

A bite of something sweet would help! Masaki was sure of it.

A birthday song was sung—it was a group celebration for them all.

Her heart dropped.

Masaki bit her lip. She and Ryuu got individual birthdays but the Gemischt Quincies had to share? Or…

Most of these ones didn’t have families or what family they had was incapacitated or stationed abroad.

Ryūken frowned. “It isn’t her birthday.”

“Huh?” Masaki wondered aloud around a mouthful of fries she couldn’t really taste while she was feeling upset.

Light blue eyes narrowed. “It isn’t Katagiri’s birthday. Her birthday is June 10. Hers hasn’t passed yet.”

A few of his friends turned his way, surprised by his hard tone.

He was usually more easygoing with them.

“Uh…okay,” she mumbled.

So, she could have a little birthday now and a better birthday later? Maybe? What were things Katagiri liked? 

Sewing? Baking? Music?

Ryūken continued frowning when the waitress came to refill their drinks.

He surprised them all by ordering a shake. He usually only begrudgingly ate at establishments like this—picking at his order and then eating at home. 

Was this it? Was he loosening up?

She’d have to try and steal a taste once it arrived. He was usually a good sport about sharing food.

Ryuu’s eyes remained fixed on the other party.

Katagiri had finally been noticed and was dragged into the gaggle. 

One of the girls began playing with Katagiri’s hair, trying to tie it into two level pigtails. Another began putting darker lip gloss on her.

It should’ve been nice sisterly solidarity except…

It was painfully obvious that the ninja maid was uncomfortable with the attention.

No one was asking her anything. They were talking to each other about her. 

She was being treated like a life-sized doll.

It made Masaki uncomfortable. She needed to do something.

But what should she do?

Katagiri was sensitive. 

Ryuu was adamant that Katagiri was proud and unyielding and one had to be wary of her pride. 

“Really?” Masaki had asked. The soft spoken maid had seemed anything but that.

He frowned in that don’t-argue-with-me-I-know-more-than-you way that irritated her. “Honor is of the utmost importance to her. Never insult Katagiri’s warrior spirit.”

Whatever she did couldn’t be too heavy-handed, that could embarrass her.

Snippets of their conversations floated over.

“What do you think?” One began wrapping one pigtail up as a bun.

“No. No. Her hair is her best feature. You have to show its length.” 

“Leave it like that. It’s good as it is. It shows her nape.”

Masaki blushed a little. They wanted Katagiri to attract attention.

“This is good for her. She needs practice. Kentaro told me that she told him she wanted more friendships. So, this is part of that.”

That made Ryūken stiffen.

Masaki winced. He hadn’t liked that guy to begin with. And if he’d shared things that Katagiri told him in confidence to others which, judging by her reddening face, he had…

Oooh…

That was a powerful scowl on her cousin’s face.

Masaki didn’t blame him; none of that was friendship. 

“Don’t worry, Katagiri,” one girl cooed in a somewhat infantilizing tone, “Tonight is just about practice. Getting out and about. We can help you with your clothes next time.”

“And she needs the help,” another muttered.

“I know! She dresses like my grandmother.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this. Maybe she should stay in a uniform if she has such poor taste.”

“Katagiri would probably love to wear her reishi armor everywhere.”

There were giggles.

Masaki was appalled—why were they being catty? 

Several male Gemischts from the estate arrived.

Another German chocolate cake was brought out for them.

The girls outnumbered the guys and the point of this gathering became clearer to Masaki as they crooned a birthday song to them—all sultry stares or wide smiles.

Ohhh. 

This was some kind of meet and greet under the guise of a group birthday celebration.

There was competitiveness.

“Wow,” Masaki mumbled as she watched the shamelessness.

Men finding excuses to flex. Women finding excuses to frame their busts with their arms to make their cup size  seem greater.

Katagiri kept trying to edge away from the action. One maid or another would hook arms with her and pull her back into the group.

Sometimes reluctantly since she was one more rival to outshine.

Sometimes with amusement. They’d get a not-so-fast look.

“You! Pigtails! You’re Katagiri, right?” One man who looked to be in his later twenties asked.

“Y-yes. I…am.”

“I’m Aiba. I’ve seen you around. The estate, I mean.”

“Y-yes. I…also work there,” Katagiri agreed.

“As a maid.”

“Guard. Though I do some domestic service—”

“I heard you received an elevation in living quarters.”

“Y-yes.” She looked a little alarmed.

“This is why I tell you to lock your door,” Ryūken grumbled darkly.

“That’s great. I also heard you scored well on all of your domestication trainings.”

Katagiri frowned, planted her feet, and stood straighter as she clarified, “I am an S rank guard who happens to have scored well on that training because I score well on everything.” 

You tell him! Masaki inwardly cheered. 

Supposedly, while Ryūken had been Class Rank 1 all throughout their schooldays together, Katagiri had been Class Rank 2.

And she got that on her own without anyone pampering her or going out of their way to help her.

If the playing field had been evened out…

If Katagiri hadn’t had domestic work, and patrols, and limited funding, and Ryuu to deal with…

“Katagiri, you’ve got great hair.”

“Huh?” The dark haired maid blinked, looking completely flummoxed by the pivot he’d made.

Masaki stared. Katagiri, run, she willed.

“I always notice it. It looks nice. It’s better down. But this is refreshingly playful for you. You always look too serious.” He started to reach for one pigtail but Katagiri stepped back.

So much for pretending he didn’t know her that well and couldn’t recognize her.

He knew exactly who she was.

Katagiri, run!

He followed. “I keep getting a scent of vanilla from you? Is that a perfume or soap that you like?”

Yikes!

“It’s… my day off, I’m allowed to wear perfume—”

“Short and sweet, like a little vanilla cupcake. Do you like those? I do. I know they’re a bit exotic here, but—I hear you bake.”

“…You hear a lot.”

“Well, I’m pretty well-connected on the Estate and throughout Karakura. I don’t suppose the Mistress told you of my catch on the spreadsheets? It was big. I got to speak at the court case.” His eyes shone with self-importance.

“…W-well done,” she offered a bit unsurely. “I’m sure the Mistress appreciates your eye for detail?”

“Thank you. So, like we were discussing, you got a top score in the domestication trainings. I think it’s important to take that into consideration when one is making plans. Understand that I’m not downplaying your other duties and talents at all. Actually, I helped in judging one of your final courses. That’s why I’m so…interested. No one was allowed to know who had made which dishes until after they were ranked.”

Yeah, Masaki liked her cooking, too, but she liked to think she was way less creepy than this guy.

Just ask her for a batch of cupcakes. Don’t do…whatever this is.

“…” Katagiri’s eyes were wide and her eyebrows were furrowing.

Ryūken fidgeted. 

His knee knocked into Masaki’s. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um, do you want to—” help her? Or I help her? 

“All of yours were superb. Delicious. Afterwards, I got to review your file. Your handicrafts skills were tiptop. The embroidered initials were a nice touch on the nightwear set you made. You’re fluent in several other languages. That’s good. I think a household benefits from multilingualism. Math. Sciences. Arts. You’re organized. I knew I wanted an opportunity to get to know you better.”

Masaki felt her jaw drop.

Or…was he trying to bypass all the hoops of flirting and going straight to the point?

Ryūken went stone still beside her.

Katagiri interrupted with, “I am an S rank markswoman and accomplished in hand-to-hand combat and grappling. I am versed in handling multiple forms of weaponry. I have hunted since I was ten.”

“Yamato Nadeshiko. Is it talent or drive that pushes you to excel in such diverse subjects?”

“Both.” She turned and she went to the booth. The man followed her there and sat uncomfortably close.

Oh no! She couldn’t shake him off.

Maybe Masaki should just yell and invite her over here? Or dip under the table and scurry over?

“So, you consider it a matter of pride to apply yourself to the best of your abilities?” Aiba asked.

“Yes.”

He smiled as he stretched an arm around the back of the seat behind her. “That’s good, Katagiri, because anyone who’s going to be a part of my—”

“Katagiri.” 

Masaki blinked. When did he move?

The space beside her was empty.

Her cousin had gotten up and was somehow already over there. 

Had he used hirenkyaku?

“Y-young Master?”

The servants all froze at his sudden appearance.

“Katagiri, I realize this is your day off and that you have a meeting of some kind here?” Ryūken’s lip curled. “But I have need of you.”

“Yes, sir.” She was at attention. 

Ryūken half-dragged the other man out of the booth, allowing Katagiri to escape and then letting Aiba fall back on the seat.

“Come.” Ryuu led her back.

She dove into their booth like a rabbit into a burrow.

Ryūken sat back down.

And just like that, Katagiri was settled snugly between Ryūken and Masaki.

Safe.

Though, they got a lot of stares until Masaki just started waving back each time.

That embarrassed them. Especially if they all thought of them in a weird Master, Mistress, Mistress dynamic. 

“Katagiri?”

“Yes, sir?”

The dynamic between those two made some of their friend group uncomfortable as it changed the atmosphere. It had been so lighthearted before and now…

Ryuu was operating as an “heir” of his household.

Masaki could practically feel the surge of authority in her cousin emanating out. 

He wasn’t subdued and easygoing when he was dealing with his guard.

He was in charge.

Honestly? Masaki wasn’t sure she liked this side of him, even if it was more genuine. He was awfully bossy and by the book.

So unfun.

“Test and organize these pens. I have an important test tomorrow.

SO. UNFUN.

He gave her a blank pad of paper. 

Katagiri’s hands shook a little as she tested the first pen.

Ryūken shrugged out of his suit jacket.

He’d been kind of overdressed for the occasion. Masaki had been a little exasperated at the sight of him when he’d first arrived.

“The air conditioning is too high. Here.” He set his jacket over Katagiri and ran his hands over her arms several times until she stopped shaking. “Feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She started to remove the jacket.

He raised his hand. “No need. I’m not cold. You are.”

“Thank you, Young Master.”

As if that wasn’t a visible enough sign of a claim, when their order arrived, Ryūken set the Nagasaki milkshake in front of Katagiri and split the club sandwich he’d ordered with her.

He told her, “It isn’t your birthday. You don’t like German chocolate cake. However, if you do enjoy this shake, I can order it for you again when it is your birthday.”

“Thank you, sir.”

After their meal ended and the others were ordering desserts, Katagiri was tasked with quizzing him with flashcards he’d brought along. Though, sometimes she’d ask a more intricate question than what a card said.

Ryūken would notice and comment.

She’d flush a little and admit she was curious. Ryūken would treat those questions very seriously and lean in to explain.

A sort of invisible bubble cropped up around them.

Ryūken didn’t seem to want to talk to the rest of their group while Katagiri was there. He was focusing on her to the exclusion of everyone else.

But it wasn’t exactly friendly…it was…intense?

Though Katagiri was kind of intense herself. Like him passing this test was a matter of life or death importance and she was determined to help him succeed.

Akira Yamazaki rolled his eyes. “Cold shoulder. He’s freezing us out.”

When one of the other servants approached, he held up a hand and Katagiri immediately silenced herself.

“Speak,” Ryūken said curtly to the other maid.

Masaki shivered a little. 

Or maybe he was being gentler with Katagiri?

He was downright frigid with this other woman.

He was not overlooking how Katagiri had been treated among them.

The young woman was very intimidated. She swallowed nervously. “Young Master, w-we’re leaving now. If Katagiri wishes to take advantage of our group’s numbers, she may go with us. The sun is going down. It could be unsafe for her to travel alone.”

“Indeed. Thank you for your concern. Katagiri will leave with me…and our group,” he tacked on as an afterthought.

That got quite a few more stares from both groups.

Ryūken ignored them all and requested that Katagiri resume quizzing him.

“Of course, sir.”

Later, when they were waiting for the chauffeur to pick them up and Katagiri was struggling to remove one of the pigtails, Ryūken moved to assist her.

The air had a moist chill which was unusual for the end of May. It should have been warmer.

Kanan pouted and whispered in Masaki’s ear, “You could have told me he had a girlfriend already.”

Masaki floundered and tucked her hair behind her ears as a gale made it whip. “W-well, I-I don’t know for sure that they are—Katagiri was cold—”

Shiho raised an eyebrow. “Masaki, he didn’t give her his jacket because she was cold. He gave it because she was nervous. That other guy was hitting on her when she was already in a relationship.”

“They’re not in a relationship. My cousin is just chivalrous.” She didn’t want to start a rumor before they had anything going on. Officially.

Though, it was totally romantic and she had a huge urge to tease her cousin.

Katagiri II? Or should it be Ryuu II?

That would make his whole face go red. He’d be like a strawberry with a dash of white chocolate on top.

She loved strawberries. Too bad this place didn’t serve any.

She bit her lips to keep from guffawing.

It was too soon. And there was no telling what would happen if Auntie found out.

“She’s still wearing it,” Shiho pointed out. “And they’re not family, right?”

“Hmm? Oh. Uh, no. They’re not.” Or at least if they were (because some Old Quincy King and blah blah blah) it was a much more distant ancestor.

Katagiri’s arms were through the sleeves now.

Ryūken moved in front of her to block some of the wind.

“No guy lets a girl wear his jacket all night if he’s not interested,” Kanan informed her solemnly.

Kanae wished she could stop smiling or at least that her heart would stop racing. 

Such an urbane man, her young master was. Swooping in and rescuing her from a horrible evening.

The dread she had felt on learning the birthday meetup was coed. 

That it was preparation.

Another batch of marriage interviews was being set up.

She’d been able to opt out of the previous ones (when she was sixteen and seventeen) because she’d been the young master’s guard while he was finishing high school and it would be highly impractical for her to theoretically be married then.

They’d outright forgotten her last year, mostly because no one was interested in her, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Only this year, in January, she’d had to complete her final domestication training.

Typically, within weeks of that, a maid with a suitor would start courting.

Several months had passed.

No one approached her. 

What had changed?

When had she stopped being a lamp? 

The other maids, Junko in particular, told her not to worry about it.

“ It’s just a formality, Katagiri. You’re nineteen.” 

“I will be nineteen.” Her birthday hadn’t passed yet.

And now she was seated between Young Master and Young Mistress as the chauffeur drove them home.

Oh…

She really should have sat upfront and let them sit together to better kindle feelings.

“That guy couldn’t take a hint,”  Masaki grumbled. “The one bothering you.”

Maybe because it was Mistress Masaki and she’d understand even if her mouth got away with her, Katagiri blurted, “Yes! It was very frustrating. I’m a guard. I don’t wish to be hired on as a housekeeper and cook for a Lord of the Spreadsheets. Just because I scored well and I’m female doesn’t mean my value as a warrior diminishes with my ability to bake goods. Many Quincy families have onna-musha. My ancestors would be proud of how well my arrows soar.”

“…” The young master was quiet.

“…” The young mistress was quiet.

The old chauffeur smiled at her through the rear view mirror.

“I apologize for my outburst,” she murmured softly.

Then, Young Master Ryūken spoke, “…I…won’t let anyone bully you into a vocation you don’t want, Katagiri.”

Her spirit lifted. “Thank you. It was upsetting. Him. Trying to use flattery to make me bake him something when he kept insulting my skills as a warrior. Trying to tell me where I belong. He’s another Gemischt. He doesn’t have that authority. He—I—following me when I’m angry. In public. Don’t want a scene but…”

“I won’t allow you to be bullied, Katagiri,” he repeated.

That was too big a promise. 

“Sir…” But it was very touching.

“If there are other meetups of this nature, you may disregard them.”

“It’s expected of us, sir.”

“Do you wish to attend—?”

“No!” She winced at her own desperate honesty.

“Disregard them. That’s an order. Anyone who wishes to argue it can deal with me.”

“You have overstepped your bounds,” his mother muttered. “I oversee this area. You do not.”

“These meetings are a waste of my guard’s time. She would be better off training.”

“Katagiri needs time away from the estate to foster relationships outside of battle.” 

“If she were permitted to attend university—”

“Those relationships still need to be with her fellow Quincies.”

“I worry that this ties back into that betting pool nonsense,” Ryūken argued.

Her mouth flattened into a thin line.

He described the scene Katagiri had endured.

She sighed. “This is merely schoolyard nonsense. Why are you so upset, Ryūken?” 

“My guard was mistreated by multiple Gemischts. Because she was in a public setting and setting an example for the House of Ishida, she took the insult. As her master—”

“Your father and I are her masters. You are her charge—”

“I am not a child. I have the right to defend those who serve under me from such blatant shows of disrespect.”

“She has not registered a complaint.”

“I will register it on her behalf.”

“Ryūken.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know you favor her above the other Gemischts but this… attention will cause her trouble.”

“Upholding honor will cause trouble?” he asked sourly. “Obviously. Still—”

“Do not speak so insolently to me.”

“…” He bit his tongue but his fists clenched.

“Now, I’ll ask again why is this troubling you?”

“Katagiri has served me faithfully for years. Her years of service were met with scorn. They made multiple comments that were uncalled for. Meant only to ridicule. As if Katagiri’s fashion choices or baking skills should ever be elevated over her battle prowess.”

“They belittled her abilities?”

“Yes, Mother.”

He relayed the insults verbatim.

“Hmm.”

She consulted a roster and compared it to the list of attendees for that coed birthday meetup.

“Perhaps they have grown complacent? Many have neglected their patrol duties. They’re supposed to serve a certain amount each year.”

He frowned. “Does that mean Katagiri has undertaken more than her share of patrol work?”

Izumi sighed. “…It does…she’s very skilled at hunting Hollows. I’m loath to remove her. Still, if the others are depending on her to take up their shifts…I will need to sort this out.”

It was a small victory.

He smiled.

Izumi’s eyes narrowed. “She still has to attend the social functions.”

He frowned.

“However, you may give her my express permission to defend herself from such attacks. The House of Katagiri deserves such a right.”

“…”

He was still annoyed as he left Mother’s office.

Masaki would insist that he go eat something. Only, he’d prefer to have something Kanae made. Only, he didn’t want to insult her by making such a request.

It would seem hypocritical to make such requests when her shift wouldn’t start until the evening. 

He could sense her nearby.

He felt a little upset. Despite his strong insistence the previous night, he had been unable to secure her right to forego the social gatherings.

Still, it was better that he shared the bad news now and got it over with.

The good news was that she had less patrol work.

“I dare you, Kanae.”

“Kentaro, no.”

“Come on. Do it.”

“No.”

Ryūken’s teeth clenched. He was getting irritated with that man.

Or maybe he was getting irritated that Kanae kept keeping company with him? Especially when he had betrayed her confidence. 

“You can’t say it,” Kentaro half-sang in mockery.

“I won’t say it because it’s disrespectful.”

“He’s not here to reprimand you.”

Was he trying to lead her into trouble?

His hackles raised.

“Though that would be an even greater dare. Kanae Katagiri uses the young master’s name free of titles to his face! If you did it in front of the Mistress—”

“Death via two Heilig Pfeil.”

Ryūken blinked in hurt dismay. It would be…very disrespectful, yes, but neither of them would execute her.

They’d probably assume she was deathly ill or injured and demand emergency treatment for her.

“You would go down as a legend,” Kimura offered.

“The Most Impertinent of the Quincies.”

They both laughed

“Now, are you done being ridiculous?” she asked.

“Did you really take his jacket and eat his food?”

“You make me sound like a highwayman. It was cold. I was hungry. He was generous. I’ve told you before he’s very kind—” 

“He was not kind when he punched me in the face.”

“He was. He didn’t break anything. You were too slow and he was showing you that. You should’ve blocked or dodged. I thought you mastered blut vene.”

Ryūken grimaced. She was seeing him in a better light than he deserved.

“Pity me!” Kimura demanded.

“Never!”

“Kanae!”

“Kentaro!” she teased right back.

She was always Katagiri.

He was always Young Master. Sometimes, he was Young Master Ryūken, Young Master Ishida, or sir.

They both looked happy. Neither were in uniform yet, they were just seated under the shade of a tree enjoying the afternoon together.

He should keep walking.

Except…

That was their tree. One they’d decorated as children and played under. One they had studied for tests beneath. One that he wasn’t willing to give up.

“Katagiri…”

“Sir.”

“Sir.”

They snapped to attention.

The smile slid off her face.

Something twisted in him at that.

And he instantly became angry and hurt.

She usually smiled on seeing him.

“I was going to the archery range. The human one. Would you care to join me?”

Kimura came as well. As did Masaki because Mother caught them as they were leaving and insisted.

Masaki was bored, sitting on a bench and waiting for a lane to open up for her to shoot.

He ought to offer her his but he wanted to compete against Katagiri only—

“Why am I terrible?” Kimura moaned.

“Because your feet are wrong,” Katagiri answered.

“After all these years, you’re going to tell me that they’re both wrong? Now? Both of them?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t catch his joke.

“Your hands are wrong, too,” she added. “It’s not the same as spiritual archery. You have to adapt.”

“Well, I’m just an unlucky soul.”

“You’re a lazy one, too. I am demonstrating proper posture and you’re not paying attention,” she tutted.

It left him standing there. Waiting for her to return and take her shot. 

He was not entitled to her time.

He knew that.

He cringed as he recalled recesses in their very early childhood.

Other children had wanted to take her away into their games.

“No, Katagiri, you play with me,” he insisted, catching her hand and squeezing her fingers with his.

He liked her fingers, they were thinner than his and always a little bit cool. He was right handed and she was left handed; they could use their non-dominant hands for hand holding and still play games with their preferred hands. It was great. 

“Yes, Young Master,” she beamed at him, eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun.

And they explored hand in hand, fingers laced, arms swinging.

They were both fast so they could even run or skip without letting go. 

It was his favorite way to spend recess. He liked feeling her spiritual energy right next to his like this.

The other children teased that they were going to get married because they spent so much time together.

His mother’s son, and well informed of her expectations for him, he was instinctively repulsed by the idea and sneered, “I would never marry Katagiri. She’s a…” he’d been on the brink of saying Gemischt but other humans wouldn’t understand so he spat the word “servant” instead.

Katagiri didn’t flinch or glare or cry.

But he was caught off guard as she dropped his hand and gave him a solemn, stony look.

She heard “Gemischt.”

He squirmed a little. But it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t make the rules. 

He frowned back. He didn’t like how it was either.

She should have been an Echt. That would’ve been perfect. 

It was her own family’s fault that she wasn’t. 

Not his.

The other children weren’t impressed by his answer either.

Another boy volunteered to marry Katagiri instead and he took her by the hand and led her away. An impromptu wedding began in the field where wildflowers were woven into her hair and gathered as bouquets and thrown as the “ceremony” ended.

And the other boy declared her a beautiful bride and hugged her tightly and gave her a piggyback ride back to the classroom when the bell rang.

And Ryūken was very miserable the whole time.

When she was back at her desk, still decked in flowers, he sniveled rather pathetically, “You are not supposed to play with anyone else.”

And yet she had. The feeling of betrayal was great even as he knew he’d brought it on himself.

It was just pretend. He could’ve stood through a pretend wedding, even if Mother would have been very upset to learn of it.

Katagiri stared at him unflinchingly. “Why do you want to play with a Gemischt anyway, sir? On my honor as a Quincy, I will uphold my duty to the House of Ishida. I can still guard you just as easily without us being friends.”

He bawled. 

Loud enough and long enough that he was sent to the office.

It was one of the rare times his father came to get him and patiently listened through the woeful tale.

He tugged at his father’s trouser leg. “Make her like me again.”

“I can’t,” the elder Ishida said simply.

He was shocked and horrified at this admission.

He’d been certain some kind of spell could have fixed it.

He cried harder.

“Ryuu,” his father scolded softly because it was rare that his son got so worked up, “that’s why we have to be so careful with the words we say to others. Even if it’s true, and you can never marry her, there was no need to say it cruelly. And you saw for yourself, she made a beautiful bride for someone else.”

That didn’t make him feel better at all!

“She liked me yesterday. She liked me this morning. Make her like me again! I can take today if you make her like me again tomorrow.”

“I can’t. You must make her like you again.”

It felt impossible.

He ran back to the classroom.

“Ryūken!” Father called in shock. “I did not give you permission—Where are you—?”

He sprinted through the halls and burst back into the classroom and hurried to her desk.

“No! Katagiri!”

The teacher squawked, “Ishida, you are causing a disruption in my classroom—”

“You are my only friend! Katagiri! Katagiri! I’ll give you anything you want.”

“…” She stared and her eyebrows drew together.

“What do you want from me?” His family was rich, they could get it.

“I don’t want anything from you, sir.”

“No!”

“Young Master—”

“No!” He abruptly hugged her the way her pretend groom had. She was soft and smelled like the grass and flowers from that wedding. He liked how her hair felt and pressed his face—

“Stop hugging my wife,” their classmate complained.

“She’s not your wife,” he hissed, “she’s my Katagiri!”

She patted his back because she was very nice to him even when he didn’t deserve it.

“Don’t hate me,” he pleaded desperately against her shoulder, depending on her kindness to see him through.

“Never,” she promised him gently. “I could never hate you.”

Things went back to normal. They went everywhere together. He was careful to be kinder to her from then on. She smiled at him and she spoke warmly to him…but her eyes never sparkled at the sight of him again. 

And she wouldn’t hold his hand and lace their fingers anymore.

She had thought he was better than what he was. On finding he wasn’t, she continued to treat him kindly but not reverently and not intimately. Never engaging him with the full weight of her trust, even while he trusted her completely.

He’d failed her.

He could feel the ache of that awful day again as he watched the easy rapport between her and Kimura.

And he vividly remembered that recess spent sulking under a tree, eyes burning, and throat closing up on him as someone else held hands with Katagiri and he was left alone.

Chapter Text

Ryūken was mildly annoyed to arrive at his university and find his morning class was canceled.

His next class wasn’t until late in the afternoon followed by a lab.

While he could study at the library or enjoy his time out without his mother trying to micromanage him, he…

His eyes widened…he checked his watch…he could return home and…

His eyes narrowed.

Train.

Hirenkyaku was just more efficient, he told himself as he sped across town towards home.

“Hey Ryuu,” his cousin greeted as he dropped his school bag off in his room.

He blinked. “Masaki? Why aren’t you at school?”

“Cramps,” she answered flatly.

At first, he flushed at hearing such an intimate detail and almost chastised her for sharing it but then he immediately reprimanded himself.

He was going to be a doctor. Patients were supposed to tell him these things so he could help them.

Clearly, her cramps were bothersome enough that Mother had let her stay home. And Mother would prioritize Masaki’s…reproductive health.

He tried not to feel nauseous about that.

Besides, he knew some of the ways Katagiri dealt with the symptoms.

He’d often been blunt and nosy throughout the years and whenever his guard did something out of the ordinary he’d want to know why.

So, sometimes, she would just tell him why she needed to leave the room or why she was taking pills or why she needed to swap Hollow hunting shifts.

He prepared a hot water bottle. He offered painkillers. He instructed her to eat fish.

“All of this works for Katagiri,” he added to give himself some credibility.

“Thanks, Ryuu.”

“Of course.”

“Speaking of her. Katagiri seems energetic. I can sense her,” Masaki remarked too innocently.

So could he, but he couldn’t really justify abandoning Masaki if she wasn’t feeling well. Mother would have his head if he—

“I wonder what she’s up to. Guess I’ll have to go and see? Maybe she has some more tips?” She smiled. 

Why was she so interested? 

He reprimanded himself at once.

Katagiri was a very admirable person. Her steadfast nature and combat talent could inspire anyone.

In fact, maybe it was the push Masaki needed to take her training more seriously?

She sometimes complained that some skills were just easier for Ryūken to do.

Behold, Katagiri, a Gemischt who had mastered the skills she was struggling with.

Katagiri had often been used as incentive for him to improve. His father would chastise him by pointing out when Katagiri was passing him by.

Father had wanted to foster a rivalry between them so Ryūken could surpass her and outgrow the need for a personal guard by the time he hit his majority.

But Katagiri was too encouraging for Ryūken to harbor any sense of fierce competition. 

Besides, if there was always a skill or two that she did better, he could justify why he needed her to stay with him.

He blinked, realizing how that sounded.

She-she would make a good role model for Masaki!

It would be nice if she picked up some of Katagiri’s other traits, too, like poise and studiousness.

They arrived at the indoor training area to see Katagiri grappling with Kimura.

He immediately felt conflicted at seeing them together for multiple reasons.

She had taken Ryūken’s failure to secure her exclusion from social outings very gracefully.

“It’s alright, Young Master. Mistress has a good point. Socialization is important. I…I shouldn’t complain that I don’t have many friends when I seek ways to turn down these opportunities. It probably seems very foolish and self-sabotaging.”

“You want connections on your own terms. I think that’s…understandable.”

Her eyes were sad as she smiled.

He felt frustrated all over again. She asked for so little. And he couldn’t even preserve her free time?!

But seeing her now…using that spare time on Kimura…

He shoved his hands in his pockets and told himself it wasn’t his business.

“Kentaro, you need to fight me!” Katagiri commanded.

“I-I don’t—” He was struggling for breath.

“You don’t what? You don’t get to waste my time,” she hissed as she tightened the headlock she had him in.

“Wow.” Masaki beamed. “Maybe she should train me, too!”

Maybe she should?

He blinked, a bit awed.

While Katagiri was often spirited when they sparred, she was rarely vicious.

“I…I don’t want to hurt you,” Kimura choked—veins of blut vene began glowing to try and protect him.

Ryūken’s eyebrow twitched. What an idiot? Katagiri was easily a better fighter than him. 

Katagiri laughed in his face. “My blut is stronger than yours.”

Kimura’s eyes flashed and he tried to use more of his strength against her combined with blut arterie.

Katagiri was startled.

Ryūken glared. He was cheating! Neither of them had been using blut. Before a match honorable Quincies were supposed to state what kind of combat they were engaging in—blut, no blut, or mixed.

But Katagiri was fast and adapted, she twisted around her opponent and by employing blut arterie herself she slammed him to the mat.

Kimura winced and tapped out.

She released him and repeated softer and colder than before, probably because he cheated, “My blut is stronger than yours. You need more training to strengthen yourself.”

So, it was simply training. These midmorning meetings…

This one certainly wasn’t a romantic rendezvous.

She was trying to help her fellow Gemischt become a better fighter. 

That made him feel almost oddly lighter. 

“Katagiri?” Ryūken spoke. “I will spar with you.”

She turned and her voice went soft. “Young Master?”

He wasn’t sure if that change in demeanor was a compliment. That she was more polite to him than Kimura. Or if it was just his station springing up between them as a wall.

“My class was canceled,” he explained. “I will change and then we can have a bout.”

“Very well. However, I will be grappling today, sir,” she warned. 

He grimaced. “Understood.”

He went to the locker room and changed into a uniform. It wasn’t that he was terrible at the sport.

Though, Katagiri was very agile and knew how to throw her slight weight.

It was that they’d become teenagers and it was a very intimate fighting style.

Sure enough, later, when they were rolling together his body began to betray him.

He had more weight to his advantage but she was very flexible.

She could work her legs free or into locks with almost impossible speed.

Her mouth panting by his ear, her lithe body pressed tightly against his, it was very distracting.

She flipped him.

He grunted as the ground met his back.

She had an arm across his throat and was straddling him.

“I yield,” he said bluntly.

She relented.

Another bout started, he yielded again.

She was getting annoyed with him.

“All out, sir,” she requested. “We use blut this time.”

“Understood.” 

A far more brutal match ensued. 

Strength and strategy versus speed and flexibility. 

He nearly had her pinned under him.

One wrist was in his hand and over her head. He nearly had the other. 

And he needed that one.

Her left hand. Her dominant hand

He was chasing it. She was moving it.

There was a moment where they caught one another’s eye and each laughed but immediately rallied themselves.

Almost. Almost. Alm-

She twisted and tried to move her legs around him.

They were both breathing hard.

He pinned one of her legs under his.

She snaked an arm around his neck and he caught it.

He had her.

Her eyes widened in alarm before narrowing in determination.

She had one leg still free but it would be very difficult to maneuver herself out of her current position.

“Yield,” he growled.

She renewed her efforts. 

He used more of his weight. “Yield.”

She had to be running out of breath.

“I yield” was more of a gasp than a word.

He immediately sprang off of her and laid down to the side.

For several minutes afterward, there was no movement—just them breathing hard and trying to recover—releasing their bluts and relaxing their reishi systems.

She sat up slowly, red faced and winded. 

She smiled.

And his heart rate which had just started to calm down began speeding back up again.

She asked, “Why…why don’t you… fight like that… every time?” 

Sweat had made some of the hairs framing her face curl.

He wondered if he looked as disheveled or worse, considering he was dealing with more irritants than she seemed to be.

He didn’t dare look down and direct her attention to his…state.

She moved closer to him and leaned over. One lock of hair had slipped free of her ties and dangled down tickling his face.

That didn’t help him at all.

“It was good. Good match. Very… good. Thank you.” Her chest was heaving as she panted, “Do you want to go again? I like it when you give your all.”

“…” His face burned so hot.

Her expression grew concerned. “Sir? Are you alright?”

He was doomed.

He was going to have very awkward dreams that night.

He did.

Masaki picked out an array of tasty treats for herself and her friends.

Ryuu had turned his nose up at the boxes of candy on display. He had a more sophisticated palate and only wanted desserts made from his personal staff.

He was such a snob.

Her cousin was acting as a chaperone for Masaki and her two friends who all wanted to attend an early evening movie.

Ryūken was trying to be courteous but there was a pressing feeling that the whole thing was boring him.

He was a university student. They were high schoolers.

He kept discreetly checking his watch whenever he thought they were engrossed in conversation.

They had about fifteen minutes before the movie began.

The whole idea started last night at dinner. She’d been talking about how much she and her friends wanted to see a movie.

There was something about rainy weather that made the movie theater a great place to be.

Oddly enough, Auntie was receptive.

“Ryūken can accompany you girls,” Izumi decided.

He stared, taken aback. “Mother, I really ought to study.”

She frowned. “It’s important that you two spend time together. And so long as the showing isn’t too late…I see no reason you can’t study afterwards. You should get to know Masaki’s friends. They’ve yet to visit us here. You can tell me your opinion of them and whether they are suitable.”

Masaki tried not to cringe.

Her cousin who always reported everything to his mother would get to judge whether her friends were “worthy.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Izumi looked across the table sternly and said, “That won’t be a problem will it, Ryuu?”

“No, Mother.”

“Good. Outings like these are important. They set a precedent. A guard will fetch you both at the end.”

Ryūken wasn’t a fan of their movie choice.

His mouth briefly made a line of irritation as the girls squealed the title.

“Is it okay, Ryuu?”

“Of course, Masaki.” His mouth flexed into a bland smile as he paid for everyone’s tickets, which won over her friends.

Kanan and Shiho were going around looking at movie posters to pass the time.

She looked over at her cousin. “I really do appreciate this, Ryuu.”

He was trying very hard to be nice, but it was obvious he didn’t want to be here.

He flushed and looked up from his watch. “You’re welcome, Masaki.”

They talked a bit about school, her classes and his, and then the weather but the conversation slowly withered and dropped off as all of theirs did.

Both of them seemed to be trying not to sigh. 

Ryūken felt his spirit flag as he and Masaki stared sadly at one another.

Their married life was going to be bleak indeed if they couldn’t manage even the most banal of small talk.

Happiness…

He needed to try and secure Masaki’s happiness at least.

There was no reason for both of them to be miserable.

“Are there any new songs on the radio that interest you?” he asked gently.

Maybe he could try purchasing her some tapes? And a stereo?

Mother might approve of that. Him getting something larger and more expensive for Masaki than the Walkman he’d given to Kanae. Mother had been displeased to learn of that. Even Father had given him a long look and warned that singling her out for special treatment could cause her difficulties among the other servants.

He’d argued that as his personal guard it was reasonable that he’d know her interests well. She liked music. Why would he ignore that?

Besides, lots of people liked music.

Masaki’s expression lit up with the subject. She chatted away about bands her friends had introduced her to.

See?

Not so hard.

He could do this, right?

He tried to envision it—evenings in the future where she talked and he listened as they sat in parlors or he reviewed medical files in a home office.

It could be pleasant. This was…pleasant, right? A night he could talk about later to a daughter or son. 

I would take your mother to movies as we courted.

Masaki was pretty and cheerful and good-natured.

This was for the good of the Quincies.

Maybe tonight he should try kissing her fingers? Something whimsically gallant? Something that could prove to his family that he was trying?

The doors to a nearby auditorium opened and people rushed out.

“It was so romantic,” one moviegoer sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Her male companion’s eyes stayed on her. “Yeah, it was surprisingly good.”

The tone suggested he’d barely paid attention to anything except her.

“Oh no,” the young woman murmured.

He frowned in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I think it’s raining outside. Can’t you smell the rain?” She looked at her thin dress with worry.

“Here.” He shrugged out of his coat and placed it around her—going so far as to zip it up. 

The sleeves were far too long. The lovers giggled and stared into one another’s eyes.

Ryūken could tell he and Masaki were watching the exchange closely.

They both wanted that, right?

And if that was the case, they could make it work, right? Play their parts? Pretend until it was true? Maybe?

Maybe there’d never be passion? But there could be kindness and courtesy? They could be gentle. Consoling. It would help the mutual disappointment each felt.

“They look familiar,” Masaki pointed out.

Ryūken stiffened. 

She was right! The moviegoers leaving the auditorium were staff from the estate! Many of the servants who’d been at the diner! As well as some new faces! They were all here mingling in front of them!

“Ohhh, this is another meetup,” Masaki realized.

Neither had been sweeping for the reiryoku of other Quincies.

Now that he was, he knew Katagiri was here, too.

His head turned to where she was hidden behind walls and doors.

“Ryuu?”

The doors to the auditorium of the movie their group was waiting for opened. Masaki’s friends rushed inside and beckoned for them to follow.

But…Katagiri…

Why wasn’t she coming out?

Was she alright?

Was someone causing her trouble?

There was a gentle squeeze to his arm. 

Masaki smiled up at him. “Ryuu, we’ll save you a seat. Make sure Katagiri is okay. It’s weird that she’s lingering.”

“It is weird,” he agreed. And he was worried that this was another repeat of the other venture—that she’d been cornered once more by someone unscrupulous.

“Thanks, Masaki,” he mumbled as he moved away. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He just wanted to check on her then he could go back. 

He tried not to think of another reason she could be “lingering.” 

She was one of the last people in the theater. She was sitting with a rather large tote bag at her feet and a hoop with needlework in her lap.

Somehow…she had smuggled that in here.

Apparently, she’d anticipated that she’d find the film dull.

“Kanae,” Kimura addressed her. 

“Mmhmm?”

“Kanae?”

“Y-yes?” She looked up from where she was pulling the needle through.

Kimura was standing in front of her with another female servant whose hair was curled. Their arms were linked together.

Both had dressed nicely for the night out. 

Katagiri…was dressed comfortably.

She was wearing a thick oversized cable knit sweater and a skirt that went to the ankle. Her long dark hair was in a thick, loose braid.

The theater was cold. She’d dressed in anticipation of that.

“Ken, I think it’s raining,” the woman remarked.

“Here.” Katagiri withdrew an umbrella from her bag for her.

The girl was delighted. “Oh Ken, we might have to share!”

“Here.” She offered another one to Kimura, too.

“How many do you have, Kanae?” Kimura asked flatly.

“How many do you need, Kentaro?” Katagiri asked.

It was a strategy: she was giving out umbrellas to avoid needing to share one.

Ryūken’s lips twitched.

Clever.

Kimura ran a hand over his face. “Kanae, I know you’re caught between orders. That he gave you permission to not partake in these gatherings but the mistress revoked it.”

Ryūken bristled. He felt offended that she’d share their business with others.

“But you have to show some willingness to participate,” the male Gemischt warned, “or the mistress could punish you.”

Katagiri turned away. Her profile was stiff. What Ryūken could see of her expression was stony.

“Kanae,” Kimura addressed her sternly.

She reached into the bag for another umbrella.

“Kanae!”

She didn’t raise her voice, but the words were cold and biting:

“I don’t understand why I can’t just be an onna-musha.”

She gripped the handle of the umbrella tightly.

Kimura sighed. “Kanae…”

She stood up angrily and faced him. “Through me, the House of Katagiri remains the fastest of the flying bamboo-blind sliders!”

Light blue eyes widened in shock.

So her hirenkyaku was even faster than Father’s!

Katagiri wouldn’t dare make such a claim if it were not true.

A Gemischt faster than an Echt…it upset the natural order.

Why did that please him?

Why was there relief that Katagiri had managed the impossible?

It was dangerous to think anyone could escape fate.

But if someone could, wasn't it reasonable to assume it would be someone swift?

Well done, Katagiri, he thought fondly.

“You will be punished,” Kimura told her solemnly.

“Then, I will be punished, but I will not be degraded,” she said with a quiet steeliness. 

Ryūken felt a strong urge to call out to her. To buy another ticket. To get her out of this. To bring her over to his side where she’d be safer.

This was probably a test.

Mother was testing him. 

She’d wanted them to cross paths and see what he’d do.

Mother would punish him, too.

She’d set this up deliberately—to remind them both of their places.

He sighed deeply.

The three Gemischts registered him standing there.

“Sir?” The female servant with curled hair was surprised.

“Sir!” Kimura acknowledged, slightly stunned to see him there.

“Sir,” Katagiri greeted him softly.

“I sensed…energy. Everything alright?” Ryūken asked.

“Yes, sir,” they all lied.

“We were just leaving, sir,” Kimura informed him.

The Gemischt proffered his arm to his date and they left through the alternate exit by the screen that led out to the parking lot.

Katagiri winced a little as the heavy door shut.

She hastily stood up and gathered her things, hefting the undoubtedly heavy tote on her shoulder. “H-have a pleasant evening, sir.”

“Thank you, Katagiri.”

For some reason he didn’t move. 

He should have moved. It would have been courteous.

Instead, she had to pass him on the aisle ramp, her body gliding by his. 

So close.

There was no one else here.

Quite suddenly a deluge of stories he’d been told over the years of stolen kisses in the darkness of a movie theater passed through his mind…and then combined with the dreams he’d been having since that grappling session…

How that soft, sweatered form would feel in his arms tonight…

His fingers in that braid…

Their mouths…

No.

This was Katagiri. Just Katagiri. 

The House of Ishida had to be upheld.

And she wanted to be an onna-musha for the glory of the House of Katagiri, fallen as it may be.

There were boundaries that had to be respected.

“I’ll see you at the estate,” he called after her softly.

She smiled over her shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

“Be sure to travel with the group,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

He let her go and returned to Masaki and counted down the minutes until they could leave.

Still, during that countdown as corny dialogue played out on the silver screen rather than feeling resigned to the machinations of his parents, he began to feel agitated.

It was one thing for his parents to plan out his life—he was the heir of their household.

But Katagiri was already fulfilling her orders and risking her life for the Ishida clan.

Did they expect to micromanage her even during her off hours? 

His grip on the arm of his chair tightened.

Kanae had a soft spot for libraries. The library at the young master’s university was particularly impressive.

“They have a large crafting section,” he told her while leading her over to the building. 

Until now, she’d only waited in the lobby as requested by the mistress.

“There are four floors,” the young master told her.

Four!

He chuckled.

Her excitement must have been obvious. 

She tried and failed to contain herself.

“Yes.” He smiled lightly. “I probably have enough time to show you the ground floor and the first floor. I have heard there is a sublevel but it requires appointments to be made to access it. I haven’t seen it so I can’t say more.”

So… five levels! Five! So exciting!

“Oi, Ishida!”

He paused and turned and raised a hand in acknowledgment.

A group of students began frantically waving him over with warnings that there was a pop quiz—they were all planning to gather outside of the classroom to study and were inviting him to join.

He swore softly and then jolted and immediately apologized to her.

Like she hadn’t heard far worse on the battlefield in the frenzy of violence or the aftermath of grief.

Her young master was so sheltered.

He frowned, caught between her and his classmates.

“Go on, sir, I can manage.” She gestured at the nearby library.

He glanced at her seriously.

She smiled. “Your grades must take precedence.”

He nodded and left to go study with his peers though not before assuring her. “I’ll return here when class ends and I’ll take you to dinner.”

She tried not to swoon at that, especially since it sounded a lot like a date. 

Except it was a perk for indulging his order to come out here. In his opinion, she was wasting several hours of her time before she could escort him home—ensuring no Hollow attacked him that evening after his lab.

He was already being very considerate of her; he didn’t want her walking to the university alone in the dark to come fetch him.

Master Sōken relented on hearing that and overruled his wife’s objections that Katagiri was needed at home.

The master had remarked that if the household couldn’t function without Katagiri’s presence for four hours, then a serious increase in wages was in order.

Her eyes shone with excitement as she entered the library building—this time with permission to explore.

There was so much to see! What wonderful architecture?! Pillars and sculptures and mahogany furnishings!

Essentially, she had three hours of freedom to herself in this scholastic oasis while being paid! Aaaand she got out of this night’s scheduled social function for unmarried Gemischts!

“Fufufufufu,” she laughed lightly to herself.

She began plucking out books that interested her, as many as her arms could carry without relying on blut.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you like a notebook to take down the titles? Or a cart to help you…carry what you need?”

“Oh, I can’t trouble you, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I-I don’t attend this institution.” She explained how she was waiting for another to finish his class.

While she spoke, he gently took some of the books and set them on a cart to help her.

“Then your sense of scholarship is to be commended even more. Most of the people who visit are only here because they have assignments forcing them to be present.” 

“T-thank you, Mr…?” 

“Mr. Tsunoda. And the name of the student you’re waiting for?”

Her cheeks went a little warm.

If only Kentaro were here to witness this—her taking up his dare.

Her heart fluttered. “Ryūken Ishida.”

So forbidden.

“Ah, yes, I know him.”

Oh no. This could get back.

“A very studious young man.”

“Oh, yes. He is. He is very diligent. He makes intricate flash cards. Sometimes, I help test him. He memorizes and comprehends the information so well. He will make an excellent doctor. I know it.”

The man smiled. He glanced down at the books she’d selected.

“Are you an excellent seamstress?” 

“Oh…I…am a seamstress but…I wouldn’t say…though I made this. However, I…”

“It is a lovely dress.”

It was a very simple linen design: modest with a boat neckline and cap sleeves and hem that fell to her mid-calf with a small slit to aid in walking. There was a little embroidery she’d done on the sleeves and the cloth ribbon that tied around her waist.

The young master had specifically requested that she not wear her uniform—apparently, civilian wear was better when she waited for him at the university.

She’d grabbed her straw hat, straw purse, and parasol and opened the door to find Ryūken waiting in the hallway.

He nodded at her in approval. “Yes. Good. Lock your door.”

“Oh. Right.”

Maybe it was because he was watching but she began to fumble even more than usual as she tried to lock it? Sometimes it just gave her trouble.

His shadow fell over her.

“Is the key cut correctly?” He gently took it from her to frown at it.

He slid it into the lock to test it and grunted as the tumblers very slowly turned. “It is not cut right. I’ll make a work order for you.”

“Oh, I can request—”

“It’s no trouble.” He handed the key back. “Come, we need to leave now.”

“Are you certain about this? You’re having to leave earlier to show me where the library is.”

“Yes. I don’t want you standing around waiting for me as the class ends.”

She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you, sir. If you would prefer…” Someone else…her heart hurt…

He paused and offered a hand as they descended the main staircase. 

She shouldn’t accept it.

She also shouldn’t be using the front stairs but…

His imperious expression suggested trouble if she refused.

Her hand rested in his.

“The weather can be rough, Katagiri. And so can the passersby. It will be safer for you fully inside the library where there are workers and…seated where you may be more comfortable and…dress like this.”

He was right. It was nicer inside.

The librarian was being very friendly to her. There was something gentle in his face as he regarded her.

“You are being kind, sir. I know I have much room for improvement.”

“Is this your favorite subject? Or have you other areas of interest as well?”

It was an invitation to talk about libraries and books—a subject she was very comfortable discussing.

It was a shame the other maids weren’t more interested in such things.

When she was younger and would suggest visiting the library or the archives after a shift, there’d be complaints of, “We finished school and just got off the laundry shift. We don’t want more work, Katagiri.”

And she’d wind up going alone.

It was allowed. 

Gemischts were permitted to better their mind as much as they wished. 

So she did. Anything that could sharpen her into a fiercer adversary against Hollows was to be considered. It would make her young master safer.

Sometimes, she would even cross paths with Master Sōken who would alternate between encouraging her scholarship and prompting her to go out and play.

His eyes were kind as he complimented her. “I dare say your dedication is unmatched, Katagiri.” 

Such praise!

And…if she went often enough, she’d see the young master, too. 

The time passed easily—some conversation with the librarian and some reading and then some more conversation as his duties permitted.

It was funny how the students seemed to think he was intimidating.

Mistress Izumi was far fiercer.

Mr. Tsunoda was just serious with a sharp sense of humor. That didn’t mean he was unkind.

He liked nautical history.

His wife liked to crochet. 

Kanae wanted to learn how. He told her about lessons his wife and some other members of the community hosted at Sunflower Threads crafting store. 

That sounded so nice. 

Maybe she could attend a few? Maybe take Kentaro’s advice and ask a male Gemischt to accompany her there? That way it would seem like she was following orders and technically she would be…but she’d actually be doing something she wanted instead of watching some contrived romantic movie where all the obstacles were simple and could wrap up in an hour.

She buried herself in sewing books.

It was easy to daydream as she paged through patterns.

If she saved up enough she could do a handkerchief dress with pretty layers of fabric. Nice and dainty. Lots of blues.

Or she could make something daring and bold. She giggled a little as she envisioned herself in something befitting Shogun Era villainesses.

When she was younger, there’d been a folklore project for school. She’d planned out her theme for weeks so she could dress up as a celestial maiden while she gave her report. 

She could do something like that this year. Sign up for a costuming competition, encourage other Gemischt servants to do so as well. That could be fun; especially, if the household was insisting on cutting back her patrolling hours and forcing her to socialize. 

She reminisced about that celestial costume—remembering the feeling more than the fabric.

It had been middle school. Being rather plainly featured, that project had given her free reign to really dress herself up—bold makeup and showy fabric and a headdress with strands of beads that swung hypnotically. She’d made a feather robe and gauzy shawls that drew attention.

It was the one time throughout those three years that everyone complimented her as—

“You look very pretty,” the young master told her softly.

For one moment, on hearing that, she’d seriously considered wearing it all day everyday before being practical.

It was all of the things she was wearing. Not her. And it would be exhausting to keep up with.

It would be impossible to hunt Hollows in.

And no matter how she dressed or disguised herself, she’d still be a Gemischt.

She perused another book and then another. 

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make something fun. For herself.

Just for herself.

She exhaled.

It would be nice…to just be herself.

“Katagiri?”

She sighed contentedly.

“Katagiri?”

Her arm was very lightly touched.

“Katagiri?”

“Hmm?” She blinked and realized she’d fallen asleep at a study table and hastily straightened herself back up.

Ryūken frowned. “The lecture ran over time. I apologize for keeping you here late.”

She tried to smooth her hair. One strand was stuck in her mouth and she was trying to fish it out—horribly aware that he was looking directly at her while she was doing so.

He abruptly reached and stroked his fingers down her cheek, near her lips, to help.

The strand was freed.

They both seemed a little stunned at what he’d done.

His fingers remained poised near her face.

“T-thank you, that was…difficult to…to...” As she spoke, her jaw brushed the tips of his fingers.

“…” He nodded, gaze fixed on her.

Her breath quickened, unsure exactly what was happening here but unable to look away.

She reflexively licked her lips as she tried to figure out what to say next.

His expression intensified. His lips parted.

Hopefully he wasn’t going to scold her for falling asleep in a public place and leaving herself vulnerable.

Yes, that was probably what it was she told her frantically beating heart.

Stupid romance film—scenes from the other night were cropping up and making her delusional.

She was not the leading lady.

“Ahem, the library is closing,” Mr. Tsunoda told them from where he was leaning against a pillar and observing them.

They immediately pulled away.

“Right, of course.”  

“Yes, sir.”

They were both very flustered as they cleared the table—setting the books she’d pulled out on the resorting cart.

“Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Tsunoda.” 

The young master held the door for her. “We should get dinner.”

“Yes, you should!” the librarian called after him. 

They both flushed as the door closed behind them.

She checked her watch and winced. The master and mistress disapproved of their son staying out late.

“I can make you something once we return to the estate,” she offered.

“No, we should get dinner. You’re tired,” he told her sternly.

She couldn’t really argue that. So she mentioned his parents and curfew instead.

He bristled. “I’m not a child, Katagiri, and neither are you. We’ll be fine. We have each other…to…to watch out for…threats of…all kinds.”

“Yes, sir.”

The restaurant was nice, not so formal as to make her feel like she needed to be waiting tables herself, but where everyone smiled and bowed to her and greeted her as Miss.

And the young master intervened to pull out her chair himself rather than allow the server to do so.

Her face warmed. She shouldn’t look too deeply into this.

He was kind. He worried about her; she knew that.

“Order anything you want,” he told her firmly.

“Too kind.”

“I mean it.”

So did she.

She nodded, trying not to be dazzled by him and failing once more.

It was moments like these where she knew she was setting herself up for even greater heartbreak than what was inescapable. Practically inviting tragedy on herself.

He wasn’t meant for her. She knew that.

But as they dined, he smiled. And she could pretend that their destinies aligned.

And she told herself that her pain would always be worth his joy.

It was a high cost but so be it.

She was a warrior before she was anything else and she would protect him from every harm she could—from monstrous Gillians to lonely meals.

A slice of strawberry shortcake was set down before her and she perked up.

She hadn’t even noticed him ordering it for her.

She looked over to see him with an éclair. 

It brought memories up from childhood in the worst way—hushed giggles and shared treats. When either of them could stare longingly over and trades were meted out: a bite of this for a bite of that.

He smiled.

He really knew how to test her resolve.

Feeling her gaze, he smirked and raised an eyebrow. He looked at both their desserts and then at her.

“Why, Katagiri? Would you like to share?”

Chapter Text

Ryūken blinked.

He was an idiot.

Where had that come from? Why did he say that? Why the hell had he said that?

“I-I am content,” Katagiri said sharply. 

See? He went and made things awkward. His ears burned.

Thank goodness, Katagiri had more sense. She was returning them to normalcy.

Good. Right. 

He stared at his dessert, suddenly not wanting it at all.

He was not disappointed. It would be pure foolishness to want to start something that could only complicate matters.

“Though…” she murmured.

He looked up to see a fork with a bite of shortcake on it, near enough for her to feed him.

“If…if you want…” Her usually pale cheeks were rosy.

He should laugh this off. Say he was teasing or reminiscing.

His mouth closed around the fork and he accepted what she was offering.

This was how Adam fell, wasn’t it?

He offered his dessert as well insisting that fair was fair and they shared bites like they were children once more.

Their server gave them a look that said they were being ridiculous.

He even agreed.

He was strangely agreeable.

He understood why some of the lurid details of his peers’ conquests, whispered when the professors’ backs were turned, involved fruits and sweets now. 

He agreed there, too. 

Him and Kanae and dessert seemed like a great combination.

He was entirely too focused on her mouth.

When she brushed away a bit of cream with her thumb and then licked it…

It made him want to do highly inappropriate things.

It was this age.

It was this body.

This was how mistakes were made.

He took a hard gulp of ice water and signaled for the bill.

“Do you want to use hirenkyaku?” she asked as they left the restaurant.

“Right after eating? No. We can walk back.”

“Very well.” She smiled.

So close. Arms whispering by one another…

He liked seeing their feet so close as they waited at crosswalks for traffic lights to change.

Every red light felt welcome. He wanted this night to last.

They stayed close through the gates of the estate, up the stairs, to her room.

“Did you want me to make you some tea?” Her hair was windswept and her smile was bright.

“Alright.”

Because he wanted to…continue looking at her.

He watched her grab a comb and quickly brush her hair.

His fingers twitched. He would have been much gentler.

Her hair was twisted up.

He frowned, waiting for the signature bun. It didn’t come. A flowery clip was used instead and her long hair was allowed to stay as a ponytail.

He wanted to tangle his fingers in the ends that kept curling from the humidity.

She washed her hands and began bustling in the kitchen.

He sat down at the table, out of the way.

He was hyper-aware of her bedroom. The door was just slightly open. 

He had no business thinking about it. About that.

And he was starting to think about it, especially in combination with those awkward, though not unpleasant, dreams.

They talked too long. At the table. Over tea. At the door. Discussing nothings. 

They probably bid each goodnight four times.

Ryūken waited for her to lock the door before heading for his room.

He entered to find his father seated at his desk.

“You are getting in very late, Ryūken.” 

It had been years since the last time his father had been here.

His gut reaction was irritation and a sense of trespassing and dread.

Sōken gave a heavy frown of disapproval. “It’s suspicious when a young man and a young woman return so late and the man lingers in her quarters for so long.”

“How dare you accuse her of anything,” he hissed. 

“I’m not accusing her,” he replied coolly.

Ryūken felt his face heat up. “I am allowed to-”

“Take your guard to dinner? Yes, I suppose. But it seems in poor taste to do such things in front of your intended fiancée. What will Masaki think? Your mother has done everything she can to provide you with a suitable match. This is how you repay her?”

“…”

“You are nearly of age. I cannot govern you and whatever choices you feel compelled to make. What guidance I can offer is this.” He gave his son a hard side glance. “Whatever choices you make in the present will determine what hardships you have in the future.”

Ryūken’s nails dug deeply into his palms. “…Yes, Father.” 

Sōken nodded and left the room.

He knew he was right, that he had responsibilities, but it didn’t keep resentment from bubbling over.

Why?

Why wasn’t he allowed even a single night’s reprieve?!

Izumi Ishida had her arms crossed as she stood beside the window in her office and stared out. 

It was not a good omen.

Kanae remained at attention and resisted the nervous tic that told her to straighten the apron of her uniform.

The Mistress could scent out weakness though, so Kanae was careful not to show any.

“Kanae Katagiri, you have served the Ishida Family faithfully for years. Have you not?”

“Yes, Mistress Izumi,” Kanae answered. “I have endeavored to.”

“You have exceeded every expectation set for you. I cannot help but wonder: What is it you actually want?”

“Mistress?” She must have misheard the question.

“Your desire. What is it you want for yourself? How do you want your name to go down for posterity?”

Kanae Katagiri stood tall then. 

Finally. To be truly asked outright.

“Onna-musha. When my name is written out as the last of my line, I want that title to accompany it. So my ancestors will have the satisfaction of knowing that every descendant was worthy of their name.”

Mistress Izumi turned to face her. “Do you expect to die in battle?”

“Yes.”

“Does that trouble you?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“…”

“Should I die, it will be in the defense of this household and for my comrades in arms who had need of me. If I am fortunate, my sacrifice will ensure others’ survival. How can I be troubled over so great an honor as that? My death will safeguard life.”

Izumi Ishida smiled. “Your courage is admirable. You don’t cower from death like the rest of us.”

The mistress turned away. Her reflection in the window looked very sad. But what consolation could a Gemischt offer?

It might seem an insult to…pity her, even though Kanae did.

Sōken entered the office then.

He was back early.

The Mistress’s face softened for a moment as she turned back to greet him.

He took stock of the moment. “Ah, I see you’re already handling the matter.”

“Yes, Husband.”

Kanae bowed to the master of the household.

He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to her while remaining focused on his wife. “So capable. I see I am not needed.”

“We were just speaking about honor and expectation,” Mistress Izumi told him.

Husband and wife both briefly held one another’s gaze and something more was communicated silently.

Izumi Ishida tidied a stack of papers. “Nothing is amiss. We are very fortunate to have such a dedicated onna-musha in our ranks.”

Kanae’s heart fluttered because the mistress seldom handed out compliments so easily.

“I see,” the master replied steadily.

“But we’re finished and I have no further concerns. Katagiri may go.”

There was a strange sense that the mistress was…protecting her from something, though she didn’t know what.

“Very good.” Master Sōken opened the door wider. “Miss Katagiri, if you don’t mind, I heard you have quite the recipe for baumkuchen. Masaki was adamant that I missed out on the eighth wonder of the world.” 

Sōken nodded at his wife. She frowned.

Katagiri bowed to the mistress and followed the master out.

Master Sōken held himself stiffly. His brow was furrowed. A great weight seemed to be on him.

All she could do was meet his seriousness with her own.

Thankfully, his demeanor softened as she spoke with gravity about measuring out the salt and butter and flour.

He accompanied her out to the garden to take a turn as she went into the detail of various frosting choices.

“Masaki likes the lattice over a shell of chocolate. When the top frosting is drizzled back and forth—”

He seemed like he wanted to say something several times but then thought better of it.

“Masaki told me Ryūken prizes your cooking,” he remarked.

Kanae stared out at the edelweiss. “He can be…rather particular and I take that into account whenever it’s necessary to plan meals for him.”

He chuckled. “That is the kindest way to put it. Yes, Ryūken is… particular.”

“…”

“You could always get him to eat. Even when you were small. I’d feel so foolish sometimes sending a little girl to tell him to eat his vegetables, but I couldn’t argue with your results.”

Her lips twitched in fond remembrance.

Sōken sighed. “Your time as Ryūken’s bodyguard is nearing its end. He has learned his powers well enough to defend himself in times of crisis. Have you given thought to what assignment you will do next?”

She straightened and clasped her hands tightly before her—back in a stance of readiness. “I would like to join the household’s security service.”

“I dare say they will be fortunate to have you.” But he looked troubled. “Katagiri?” He reached and picked a flower, turning the stem between his fingers. “Will you be at peace with the fate of an onna-musha? You will likely meet your end in the darkness of night, in violence…with no comfort. Your soul itself may be forfeit.”

He looked up from the flower to her—perhaps sensing something funerary in the moment.

She was taken aback at his deeply somber tone.

It almost sounded like he really cared about her—beyond a Gemischt fulfilling their duty.

That warmed her.

She smiled. “Sir, it will be an honor. My father and my mother both died battling Hollows. As their daughter, it is fitting that when I meet my fate—”

“You seek a glorious death.” He disapproved.

The steel in her flashed.

“It’s a freedom of being a Gemischt.” 

Sōken flinched.

Kanae noticed. “I’m sorry that’s cruel.”

“No, you may speak candidly. In fact, I welcome it. Go on. Tell me your observations.” 

“There’s…so much fear and expectation for Echts…I…can’t imagine being so constrained…” 

They watched a bird fly across the estate and over the fences. 

She fidgeted with her hands. “…By endless obligations.”

He nodded and sighed. “Perhaps, you’re wiser than me, Miss Katagiri?”

“I would not dare to presume—”

“Dare,” he encouraged her wryly as he handed her the flower. 

She accepted it gently.

He looked very old and worn right then.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve upset you.”

“No. Never. You just remind me of honor and freedom. Of courage and goodness and other things I have read and told myself about but perhaps have not lived up to as you have.”

It was too high a compliment and she flushed hard.

Two in a row?! First the mistress! And now the master!

When she recovered, he continued speaking.

“It is imperative that Ryūken marry well. The bloodline must be preserved.”

She nodded emphatically. “Of course, sir. The Ishida Family line is of utmost importance. I will do all I can to protect the young master and his bride.”

He did look at her then.

She would uphold her duty.

“My son…I worry that my son…”

“Your son is a man of integrity. You may depend on it. I am certain he will lead your household in a manner you will be proud of.”

“You think well of him,” he murmured.

“I have observed him for many years.”

“As have I…I know he must marry but it is difficult…we have always had to ask so much of him. I worry that he’s never known lasting happiness and never will because he has such…obligations as an Echt.”

He gave her a weary look.

She did not flinch though her heart sank. 

So that’s what these meetings, one after the other, were really about.

They’d both been warning her away from the young master.

They’d learned of the other night out at the restaurant and disapproved.

Still, there was no need for this.

She knew her place.

She smiled coldly. “His bride will be fortunate. I’m certain all of us in the staff will help support the transition.” 

“May I return that sentiment to you as well?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Me, sir?”

“Your husband will be very fortunate to have you as a partner. Once you select your suitor I hope you will inform me so I may give my full support.”

Because she didn’t have a father to do so.

The pity was unwelcome.

“That’s…very kind, sir.”

And almost amusing, given the young master’s many complaints throughout the years that Sōken wasn’t fatherly. But apparently, the master thought being alive gave him an edge over Kanae’s father.

It didn’t. 

She kept her tone steady. “However, given my wish to remain in combat, marriage seems counterproductive.”

Surprise registered on his face. “You… you do not wish for a husband at all?”

For one who did not seem to enjoy marriage much himself, his reaction was interesting.

She was blunt. “Security work means long hours and high risks. It is better to be practical.”

He and the Mistress could rest assured that nothing untoward would come about from her side.

That domestication training had simply been a requirement to fulfill.

She had no real interest in being a wife and a mother; those were playground dreams of youth before optimism had worn off—if she married, it would not be for love—it would be for the Quincies. That quelled the desire. She didn’t want to be bred only in the hopes that the Katagiri’s hirenkyaku and ransōtengai might be passed on for another generation or two.

She’d already been warned by her physician that carrying a child would be risky. She’d taken the news with relief that somewhat scandalized her doctor. Infertility was a valid way to ward off future marriage proposals, should they come, and she could fully dedicate herself to training. There would be no small fingers grasping at her—no guilt as she went off to battle in the dead of night.

Sōken frowned so heavily, deep lines cut into his jowls. “Your demeanor is well suited for…I-I assumed you were going to the Security Service because someone there seemed a good match.”

She held herself proudly. “I wish to uphold the Katagiri line as I am the last.”

“Your husband could take your surname to ensure an offspring of your line is born,” Sōken suggested abruptly.

That was a very rare occurrence in Quincy lines.

She had the sudden impression that Master Sōken was afraid she was hurtling towards a “noble” death. 

“Yes. I suppose… were I to find such a man that would preserve my family name a while longer.”

He nodded supportively. “It could be a condition of your marriage contract. We could introduce it early in your matching interviews. We could introduce it now in the meetups.”

Her mouth twitched a little.

It would be very difficult to find a male Gemischt willing to make such a sacrifice. 

It would probably make her even less likely to marry.

She beamed. “That is an excellent idea, sir. I will make it a condition.”

He released a breath in relief. “Very good. I should like someone as upright and kind as you are to see some joy.”

She blinked. 

“I wish you only luck in all of your endeavors, Miss Katagiri.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Master Sōken.”

Masaki was dragging her friends to Sunflower Threads. 

It was obvious Kanan was bored in the first five minutes. She wandered off to sigh dreamily after one cute clerk stocking shelves.

That was too bad because this store was neat!

There were all kinds of paint by numbers kits available.

She wasn’t super talented at painting and crafting but with enough instruction, she could usually succeed.

Shiho was a much better sport. She pointed out different types of kits and the difficulty levels.

Masaki was trying to decide between cutesy puppies, cutesy dolphins, and cutesy baby seals when—

“Well, Kanae, do you admit defeat?” Yaguchi drawled.

Katagiri laughed lightly. “Yes. One-on-one is easier. I don’t know what it is about the group setting that provokes me.”

Masaki gasped. She thought Yaguchi and Katagiri didn’t get along! 

“What? You don’t like being rounded up and paired off like we’re cattle?” he drawled.

“It is rather impersonal, isn’t it? May as well draw a number from a hat. I think it would be more dignified.”

“Kanae! You secret romantic! Speak again, sweet angel.”

Katagiri laughed.

Masaki strained her ears to better eavesdrop.

“What do you think of this place?” Katagiri asked.

The older man chuckled. “I get to pick the next venue.”

“Fair enough.”

Masaki’s jaw dropped—they didn’t meet up by happenstance? 

“We’re spying on them, aren’t we?” Shiho asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She’s the one my cousin likes. I think she’s on a date.”

“Whaaat? But I thought she was so into him?”

Masaki nodded. “I know! That’s why I’m wondering what Ryuu did to screw up so bad.”

They went to the next aisle.

“I-I know I’m not your ideal, Kanae.”

Both teenagers shared a look. This was getting juicy.

Shiho beckoned Masaki over so they could peek around the corner of the aisle.

Yaguchi wasn’t unattractive but he was almost twice Katagiri’s age.

But he was single, Masaki realized. Which meant he wasn’t out of that betting pool—wow, what were the odds of this matchup?

But…if Katagiri was into Ryuu’s hair and had a weakness for cardigans, that was going to be hard to compete with.

Yaguchi’s hair was dark brown and he typically dressed in leather with lots of buckles and t-shirts when he wasn’t in uniform. If Masaki remembered correctly, he had a motorcycle he adored.

Masaki’s eye twitched as she looked at Katagiri. There were so many ruffles—her shirt, the ends of her capri pants, the edges of the bow in her hair.

“Opposites attract,” Shiho warned, as if reading her mind.

Even so.

Ryuu was a much better match.

“I could say the same,” Katagiri returned. “You’re far too comfortable to have a shred of feeling for me. So…What is it, Yaguchi?” 

Yikes! Katagiri could be super blunt!

“Hm?”

She stood her ground. “I should at least be made aware of my disadvantages.”

Yaguchi looked surprised. “A gentleman never disparages a lady-”

“My body, my face, my height, or my essence?” Katagiri asked bluntly.

Masaki’s and Shiho’s jaws dropped.

“Kanae…” He sounded shocked, but his mouth twitched with an incredulous smile.

“I’m sure you read the conditions. You agreed to come out. Yet, you’ve already decided against me.”

He looked away. “I have but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

“Tell me.”

“One, I’ve decided I actually like you too much.”

“Ha!”

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

“Liar,” she retorted.

“No, it’s true. I can’t subject you to myself.”

She laughed.

“Two, I don’t want the young master making trouble for me.”

Masaki nodded. Smart man. Steer clear of this web of drama.

That riled up Katagiri. “Why on Earth would he do so? Make sense.”

“You know damn well you are Young Master Ryūken’s favorite servant.” 

Masaki felt a little embarrassed since Shiho looked even more invested now.

Life with the Ishidas was a Quincy soap opera of melodrama.

“You can’t go blabbing, promise?” Masaki whispered.

Shiho lifted her pinky and they shook on it.

And then they settled in, shoulder to shoulder as they spied.

Katagiri fiddled with the ruffles at the edge of her sleeve. “It’s familiarity. He’s known me since childhood. He trusts me. I’ve worked hard to gain and be worthy of that trust. Still, that doesn’t mean…unless…” She arched an eyebrow. “What horrible thing are you planning on doing to me? That he’ll need to avenge?”

Yaguchi laughed.

The unlikely pair ended up going to a crocheting class together.

Masaki thought that was a lame finale.

Though, Shiho argued it gave them an excuse to get their hands tangled up together.

Maybe.

She’d have to report it all to her cousin later.

That night, after showering and showing off her new paint by numbers baby seal poster kit, Masaki shared her news.  

She was sitting on Ryuu’s desk and watching her cousin closely to see how he took it.

“Katagiri…was on a date?”

His expression seemed composed at first…to someone who didn’t know him better.

His complexion was bloodless and his nostrils were flared.

She scratched her head. “I don’t know but it sure looked like it. It was weird, Ryuu.”

His eyes narrowed. “Was she there against her will?”

His body grew tense as he awaited an answer.

“It was weird.”

If she said they both seemed unenthused to be there, that would dilute Ryūken’s sense of urgency.

She decided he needed a push.

“She and Yaguchi attended a crochet class.”

“He’s twice her age.”

“I know!” Masaki agreed.

“…Did he… help her wrap the yarn?” he asked.

“Uh?”

His hands were clenching.

Was Shiho right?

Was yarn-rolling romantic? How had she not known this?! 

She seized the opportunity. “Probably, Ryuu. They were laughing and joking a lot.”

Ryūken sensed Katagiri’s energy in the laundry room.

His eyes were too aware of her articles of clothing. Apparently, she was trying to do some of her personal chores before bed.

“You were out?” he asked.

She nearly dropped the basket she was using.

She smiled a bit breathlessly. “Yes, Young Master. I hope your day—”

“Was your experience enjoyable?”

“Very! Kouta was a very considerate companion.” Her lips curved in a genuine smile. “I was surprised.”

No attempts at deception.

She’d been on a date and didn’t despise it. 

She’d been on a date with a man she didn’t despise.

An older man.

One who was probably settled, established, and experienced on multiple fronts.

“I see. And will you…be going out again?” He gripped the doorframe of the room hard.

She glanced up at the ceiling in contemplation. “Well, he wants to choose the next outing. So, I suppose so. It would be fair.”

“And you are not opposed?” he asked—his fingernails were digging into the paint. 

Katagiri grew suspicious. “Is the Mistress curious?”

“…Yes,” he replied stiffly. He had no right to interfere with her personal life. His mother was expected to be nosy—he could use that now.

She smiled brightly. “Yes.”

“…” He nodded and left immediately, returning to his bedroom.

He felt sick as he paced.

It wasn’t his business.

His life was planned.

If Katagiri had changed her mind and wanted to partake in meetups after all, that was allowed.

He needed to focus on Masaki anyway.

The fate of the Quincies was depending on him.

It was for the good of everyone.

It was for the preservation of the House of Ishida.

Their bloodline had to continue.

Sacrifice was necessary, even if left him on the altar.

He looked at the rich furnishings of the room. The culmination of multiple generations doing what was best for the family.

It was the price of all of this privilege.

He had to do his part.

There was a knock.

“Young master?”

“Katagiri?” He rushed to the door and opened it.

She wobbled a little at the suddenness and he reached out to help steady her tray.

She’d brought him some tea.

“You left in a hurry and you seemed unwell.” Her eyebrows were furrowed together in worry. “I hope you’re not catching something. My mother always promoted green tea as a safeguard against all afflictions.”

He exhaled and held the door for her. “Please, come in.”

He hastily let go of the tray so he didn’t hinder her movements.

She didn’t stay long, she had laundry to return to.

The atmosphere was awkward between them.

He felt increasingly depressed the more obvious it became.

She was here because she pitied him.

She took one look at his devastation and was treating him how she had all throughout elementary, middle, and high school—with kindness.

And because that was such a rare commodity in his world, he…

Wanted to hold onto it.

Her.

Desperately. 

With both hands.

When she left, balancing the tray and acting like cheering him up wasn’t one more chore in a long list of too many, with that bright smile—he felt even worse.

What was he going to do when she started bestowing her kindness and her smiles and her time to someone else? 

Masaki’s birthday always felt bittersweet and half-empty with her family gone.

All the trimmings were nice. 

Flower arrangements everywhere.

Fancy banner.

Fancy gifts done up with extravagant bows and wrapping paper.

Her favorite kind of cake was decorated with her favorite kinds of frosting. 

Her friends from school were allowed to come onto the estate to celebrate with her because Ryūken had vouched for them. 

Auntie was trying to be nice. She refrained from nitpicking as much as she could—only getting one “for goodness sake, Masaki, sit nicely. You’re wearing a dress.”

A dress she hadn’t wanted but it looked very nice on her.

Seventeen.

Auntie was pleased because seventeen was closer to eighteen. And eighteen was a more respectable age for marriage. 

When she was eighteen, Ryuu would be twenty.

Young brides were more socially acceptable than young husbands.

It made her nauseous.

All this delicious food and she didn’t want a bite—like she was Persephone trying to avoid her fate.

That made her feel bad because Katagiri kept finding tasks to do during the party that brought her to the edges so she could peek in.

The maid was kind of easy to read. 

She was trying to gauge if Masaki had enjoyed the cake, which meant she’d been the one to bake it.

And considering all the weird drama, she and Katagiri and Ryūken were tangled in because Auntie and Uncle were determined to preserve their bloodline as Echts—

Katagiri, the Gemischt, still continued to care if a birthday cake was enjoyed by the birthday girl.

And Katagiri was an orphan herself and there was no celebration or cake waiting for her tomorrow.

For her birthday.

Masaki’s breath hitched. 

Her birthday had been lumped together with others.

The way the funerary service for Akane and Mayu and Fumi had been lumped together.

Because they were Gemischts?

Her cousin gave her a beautiful silver bracelet. Because she’d been complaining that her bracelet’s clasp was jamming lately—sometimes not wanting to open or close. An accompanying Quincy cross would probably be given to her after her friends left.

Otherwise, the normal humans would ask questions.

Ryūken was smart like that. He thought things out. 

He would be a good head of his house. He was always being sensible.

He was always being talked up to Masaki. 

Ever since she’d first been brought here.

They wanted her to admire him.

She did.

She just didn’t…want to…

She glanced up at the large oil paintings that had been done for various relatives of the Ishida family.

Sometimes alone or posed with others.

There were several of Ryūken and his mother throughout the years.

Masaki…didn’t want to see herself in a frame on these walls.

Didn’t want to sign her name as anything other than Kurosaki.

Didn’t want the life her remaining family was offering her.

Was fully aware of how ungrateful that seemed.

Hours later, as she fell back on her bed with a bracelet that glinted in the moonlight—its cross emblem was elegant and well made, she could breathe again.

Laying there in a ruffled nightgown that helped her feel younger than seventeen, she could finally cry.

The sun was up.

Kanae was not a natural morning person but after years of working as a guard and a maid, she could manage rising early.

And today was special.

Nineteen.

Her last year as a teenager and then she’d be an adult. Officially.

She had a fun dress with tiered ruffles that went to her knees and shorts underneath because she wanted fun, elegance, and practicality.

Her hair was down and blown dry—curled slightly.

See, Young Master? She could make an effort!

Light makeup.

Unapologetically blue nails—fingers and toes. 

She could take the polish off her hands tonight when she returned so she could be ready for her work shift tomorrow.

Vanilla perfume.

Straw hat and purse.

Parasol.

She was most definitely not in uniform and it felt exciting.

The lady in charge of the fleet cars that morning recognized her from the last time. She greeted her even more warmly as she almost tiptoed in.

On her fifteenth birthday, she’d made the mistake of staying on the grounds and when another maid called in sick she’d been recruited to take her place.

Kanae had been deemed old enough and mature enough not to care about working on a birthday.

Birthdays were silly and nonsensical when one wasn’t of the upper echelons.

She’d resolved to always be out of reach on her birthday ever since.

She’d admitted as much to Kouta on their outing who applauded her determination and recommended reserving a car. 

“Get further away, Kanae. Enjoy yourself. Believe me, it helps.”

That was probably why he loved his motorcycle—the freedom.

He’d also hinted that she wasn’t the only one rebelling against the household’s matchmaking politics. So, they were both looking for respite from the estate’s meddling. Maybe they could pretend to date? And then one or the other could feign enough heartbreak that they wouldn’t be expected to continue participating?

If that were so, Kouta (who’d been suffering longer) probably deserved to be the sympathetic victim.

And Kanae, being the villainess who hurt him, might be avoided from then on?

It seemed like a good plan.

Just like this.

A day trip to another city!

This was the first time she’d requested a car to drive for her special day though.

She half-expected to be denied.

The woman was checking the paperwork one last time when she realized—

“Happy birthday, Katagiri.”

She flushed hard. “T-thank you.”

The woman smiled. “Of course. Let me just make one phone call.”

Curiously, the woman went to the backroom to make it.

She beamed widely as she returned with a set of keys.

“It’s car no. 28, dear. In the third garage.”

She thanked her, bowed, and resisted the urge to skip.

It was a longer walk than she expected. She eyed all the standard vehicles she was passing by.

When she found the car she’d been assigned, she stared.

Surely, there had been a mistake?

It was a sporty, luxury sedan.

Should she go back and correct the oversight?

It was…her birthday she decided.

Why deny herself a perk?

She grinned.

She got in, set her things on the passenger seat, and fastened her seatbelt.

She checked her mirrors, caught her eyes in the driver’s visor mirror and grinned.

She turned the vehicle on.

It even had nice air conditioning!

She found an appealing radio station, fixed her hair to lie smooth, and put on her sunglasses.

Oh yes. Quite stylish. Like the dramas she sometimes snuck on the televisions throughout the estate because ironing drapes was boring. Usually the head maid would leave her be, because she had a large enough workload that no one envied her.

The fact was the Mistress liked the way Katagiri ironed things.

Which was less a compliment and more of a punishment.

The villainesses in modern dramas always drove neat cars and wore pretty clothes.

She’d always been rather enamored by that.

They drove themselves wherever they wanted to go while the love interests were driven—often depending on the protagonist to indulge them or more often being swept up by whatever he wanted to do. Because love made it alright to mute her desires.

It was better to be a villainess.

Kanae tried to flash a more sophisticated smile at herself and deliver an evil laugh. She’d even bought a darker shade of lipstick. It was in her purse. She might put it on at lunch. More reddish. 

“Fufufufufu.” She tried and then broke into a fit of genuine giggles.

This was going to be a wonderful birthday.

She was just putting the car into reverse when the front passenger door and a back passenger door were opened.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!”

She was wished almost tersely as the Ishida heir and his intended fiancée crashed her outing. 

Both doors closed.

Her eyebrow twitched.

This was her day off.

She turned and looked at the man beside her. Her purse and accessories were now on his lap.

“Your hair looks nice, Katagiri. I knew you’d acclimate to a hair dryer.”

“T-thank you, Young Master.”

Masaki seconded his opinion.

“Do you want me to drive?” He offered. 

“Huh? Oh…n-no.” 

He looked a little disappointed but nodded and fastened his seatbelt.

Masaki’s seatbelt was already on.

Kanae took a deep breath and decided she could drop them off at the front of the estate.

There had simply been a mixup.

That was probably where their assigned chauffeur was waiting for them.

“Why are you heading to the house?” The young master frowned.

Maybe it was because it was too early in the morning? Her thoughts escaped her mouth:

“Because I don’t want to be accused of kidnapping.”

Somehow, the Master and Mistress would make this her fault. 

“I am nineteen,” he contested.

“Seventeen!” Masaki called.

“We’re all old enough to go on an excursion without babysitters. Besides, it’s safer if I accompany you. Your reservation said you intended to drive to another city?” he declared.

Then, they…were determined to come with her. 

This was supposed to be her day.

She eyed herself in the visor’s mirror.

Villainess! Channel a villainess, Kanae! Scare them off! She thought.

She took a deep breath.

“I am going to the beach and then to an amusement park!” she told them resolutely.

“All the more reason I should come with you,” the young master decided. “A young woman traveling alone could be targeted for—”

“That sounds soooo fun!” Masaki squealed. “Good ideas! I should’ve let you plan my birthday! Mine are always so boring-”

“Boring?” Ryūken turned in his seat to frown at his cousin.

“Oops. Sorry, Ryuu—”

“All of your favorite things were arranged for-” 

“I know, I know and I appreciate it. The tempura shrimp was delicious! The cake was awesome!”

Kanae sagged a little in relief. “I was worried your tastes had changed.”

“All of the food you prepare is excellent, Katagiri,” the young master assured.

Midway through the trip, Kanae started getting more anxious—even though she knew she’d memorized the turnoffs she needed to take.

It was just that she was nearing the edge of recognizable landmarks.

Being on her own and getting lost was one thing but having them along to witness it.

She pulled off to a petrol station so they could get snacks while the tank filled and she poured over the map.

The young master came back with a coffee for himself and tea for her.

It was a little embarrassing.

He’d already paid for the gas and had hovered at the start when she was maneuvering the equipment.

He sipped his drink and asked about the route. She answered.

He gently pulled the map away from her. “I will drive now. I asked the clerk and there’s a nice restaurant in the two towns over. We can stop and have breakfast there.”

“O-oh.”

Yes, that was…probably a good idea.

She hadn’t eaten anything and her hands were starting to shake.

He directed her into the passenger seat and finished up with the gas pump. 

Hypotension could be so annoying.

She probably should’ve let Masaki sit next to her intended and taken the backseat.

Only, this was the car she had signed for. She at least deserved a good view!

And then Ryūken changed the radio station.

At her look, he apologized, “Sorry, I concentrate better with classical.”

Her special day was being hijacked!

Chapter Text

Masaki immediately reached for the appetizers. She took a bite. Yum. Spicy edamame. Such a refreshing crunch! If all the food here was this good?! She could feel herself practically salivating for a main course.

She couldn’t wait to order her entree.

“Masaki, know when you order that we will be eating again in a few hours, I assure you,” Ryuu grumbled. “Please don’t give yourself a stomach ache.”

“Heehee, I-I know.” She just liked food.

It was so easy to enjoy and talk about.

And a lot of times, go-to topics were essential when dealing with the Ishidas, all three of whom were stiff and formal.

Katagiri was a little stiff, too—always calm and quiet and mannered. She was especially quiet now. Perhaps, this was a fancier restaurant than she was prepared to pay for?

Masaki winced. This was her birthday, she really should have had the final say.

“Sir? These are a bit spicy.”

That was what made them good.

“Ah, thank you, Katagiri.” He didn’t take any.

Masaki pouted. He had no sense of adventure.

“Katagiri? Have you decided what you would like?” Ryuu asked.

“O-oh, yes, sir.” She folded her menu and set it back down. “I-I like mackerel.”

Ryuu’s nose flared a little at the “cheap” option. 

Masaki barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her cousin could be such a snob.

“They offer black sea bass,” he told her.

Katagiri tried to smile. “Oh… I see…I-I don’t know if I’d… I very much like mackerel.”

She’d never eaten the other kind of fish before. And there was a horror that Katagiri might not even know how delicious some of her own dishes were—that she was taught how to make tasty things without being permitted to enjoy them.

“I’ll order it in addition to the mackerel so you can try it,” Ryūken decided.

Masaki stifled a sigh. He was so pushy.

Though, Katagiri did end up liking it. 

Masaki felt kind of embarrassed that Ryūken was insisting on so much. 

That Katagiri try this and try that. He’d already volunteered to do the rest of the driving and was trying to choose when they’d return that evening.

Masaki considered kicking him in the shin for being overbearing, but maybe this was him trying to show off?

Look how rich and cultured and helpful and generous I am, Katagiri! I’m a prize!

She barely contained a snort.

The meal progressed to its end. Ryūken went to handle the bill.

She and Katagiri got to talking about the weather—such a bright happy day.

“I like when the sky is like this,” Katagiri murmured while discreetly glancing out the window with lowered lashes. “So deeply blue with wisps of cloud traveling the breeze.”

She should be a poet, Masaki thought and felt like a clumsy conversationalist in comparison.

That could definitely be a point in her favor where Ryuu was concerned. He was very quiet by nature but he probably didn’t mind silence being disrupted by pretty phrases like that.

“I wish I brought a swimsuit,” was the only thing Masaki could contribute. She sighed. 

“That is something we both need to figure out. I can ask once we’re within the city’s limits for some appropriate stores,” Ryūken replied.

Wow, he could be so stealthy! She didn’t even realize he was back! How long was he standing there?

On their return to the car, Ryūken requested to see Katagiri’s beach supplies.

There was one thin towel wrapped up tightly in her handbag and a small sunblock bottle. 

“This isn’t a high enough grade for someone of your complexion,” he told her.

“…It is enough,” she replied.

“You’ll burn. You don’t tan,” he said bluntly. 

“Aww, that’s too bad,” Masaki replied, trying to quash her desire to poke her cousin hard in the ribs—he kept sabotaging himself. It was so frustrating. Arguing with someone he liked was just dumb. “But I’m sure she knows the risks since she chose this trip.”

“We can stop by a convenience store pharmacy as well,” he decided, like Masaki hadn’t said anything.

He always treated her like a little kid who wasn’t mature enough to have a say.

They also ended up visiting a mall for swimsuits and sandals and sunglasses for Masaki and himself. He also purchased a sun umbrella, an ice cooler, sunblock, and more towels. He rolled down one of the back seats to make it all fit. 

They went to a grocery store for ice for the cooler and snacks and since they were running kind of late now, they got some pre-made bentos. Ryuu looked decidedly nervous about it though since he had some allergies. Katagiri calmed him down by reading through all of the ingredients labels to pick him the safest option. And even then, she took a sample taste to make sure he wouldn’t suffer an adverse reaction.

Masaki had watched, rather entertained by how intently Katagiri had read those labels and how direct she could be with the cooks behind the counter.

She was usually so soft-spoken and mild with them.

Because they were Echts and her employers’ wards.

That left a slightly acidic taste in her mouth.

Still, there was a moment Masaki glimpsed when her cousin leaned in and gave a soft, “Thank you, Katagiri.”

“Of course, sir.” Katagiri smiled brightly up at him.

And his eyes followed her as she led them over to the beverages.

The afternoon found them on the beach at last. AT LAST!

Kanae smiled as the sea breeze rustled her hair. “Ah.”

“Hn.” The young master pushed his white hair out of his face.

That was the trouble of taking the young master along on these kinds of spontaneous outings.

He liked things just so and had the means and stubbornness to pursue it.

He’d always been the one student in their class who didn’t enjoy the chaos of field trips.

When they were small, he would catch her arm as she passed and tell her to sit with him on the bus even when others had invited her to sit elsewhere.

That had caused friction.

“You don’t own her!” One of their classmates spat. “Katagiri can sit wherever she wants.”

Yes, but she didn’t mind overmuch; she wanted to be beside him for as long as he’d permit it. And though they thought he was bossy, she knew he was kind.

And when she went along with him instead, he’d be smug. “They were going to make you sit in the middle, but you can’t sit there without getting ill. Here, Katagiri, you get the window seat.” 

And he’d stand on the cushion to open the window a crack because fresh air helped keep her from getting carsick.

If the breeze was too chilly, he’d take his coat and spread it over them.

“They don’t know you like I know you. I know you best,” he told her with a haughty fondness.

Likewise, she also knew him very well.

And when his mouth drew downward in a way that said he wanted to complain to her, she decided she didn’t quite have the patience for it so she hurried over to a modesty screen for changing clothes. 

She had just entered when—

“Katagiri?” The young master asked.

“Y-yes?”

“Do you… want me to stand guard while you…?”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble. I ought to. I’d feel better…”

“Very well. Thank you, sir.”

“Hn. Of course.”

She could see his feet. He turned around and planted them.

He felt responsible for her. Always had… as the destined leader of their people.

She was very safe.

She pulled her dress off; she’d been wearing her swimsuit and swim shorts underneath and she took a few moments to just enjoy being alone. She removed her beloved jade necklace and set it carefully in a soft pouch she kept in her purse.

Father, Mother, please watch over me this day and let it go right. Let me feel blessed to have another year to bring our family honor. And if this year is the last, glory and a reunion with you.

If Fate was kind and Hollows hadn’t destroyed their souls…

She sighed.

Now, she just had to work up enough nerve to go back out there.

This wasn’t to say she wasn’t deeply touched that Young Master Ryūken wanted to spend the day with her. It was just… she’d planned and woken up preparing for a certain kind of solitary day and now—THIS.

She took a few calming breaths. Even though this had all the ingredients for a romantic getaway for the young master and young mistress and she was in a key position to help them on… and the House of Ishida demanded her loyalty…a streak of selfishness rose.

No.

Not on this day.

Tomorrow perhaps but not today!

She allowed herself this.

To simply be Kanae Katagiri!

She pushed the screen back with a dramatic flourish temporarily forgetting that Ryūken was right outside of it.

He smiled and nodded. “Very nice.”

“T-thank you.”

He walked her back over to where Masaki was setting up their lounging spot. Kanae folded her dress to set down with their belongings. Ryūken moved her dress into a bag that had a zipper.

“You don’t want sand to get inside it,” he told her authoritatively.

“Ah, yes. I mean, no. I—thank you, sir.”

“Of course. Masaki, I’ll walk you to the modesty screen now.”

“Yay! Thanks, Ryuu.”

“Katagiri, we’ll return shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

This was a lot more than what she’d envisioned: umbrella, lots of towels for all of them to use, snacks, drinks.

More luxurious.

Less adventurous.

She couldn’t tell what she was feeling. Relief? Disappointment?

Masaki was escorted back to their… spot?

The young master gathered his swimsuit and walked away.

Masaki was in a ruffled yellow swimsuit with red polka dots. It suited her.

“You look very nice, Young Mistress.”

“Thanks! You look sporty. Sophisticated,” Masaki gave her a thumbs up and a wink.

Kanae couldn’t help laughing at the over-the-top energy.

Masaki joined in.

Kanae knew her navy one-piece and shorts were very plain and modest. 

She hadn’t wanted to attract too much attention. Or maybe she was being vain thinking that? She probably could’ve worn something ridiculous and been safe. She wasn’t very striking.

Oh well.

She looked over at the sparkling waves. Excitement began to build. There was a buoy in the distance with a seagull on it. She decided she would swim towards that.

She stood and began stretching. 

“Katagiri, apply sunblock,” the young master ordered.

He was already back?! Goodness, he was quick.

“Oh. Yes, sir.” She took the bottle he was offering and slathered some across her arms and legs and collarbones. “Okay.”

Ready to go.

He frowned. “What about your face and your back? Masaki? Can you assist her?”

Her eyes bulged. What was he doing?! Even if he was the heir of the estate and the Ishida Clan, to ask his intended fiancée to attend a servant was—

“Oops! Sorry Ryuu, can’t!” Masaki replied.

Good. A return to normalcy—

“My hands are all sandy!” Masaki giggled and showed them off. She was building a sandcastle and filling the moat with water she’d collected in a bucket and her hands were crusted over in mud. 

Ryūken’s eye twitched. “When did you even buy…?”

“Ryuu, you can’t go to the beach and not build a castle.” She grinned brightly. “Guess you two will have to help each other? I don’t think Ryuu wants sand in his hair either.”

Ryūken looked annoyed but stayed silent.

He turned to Kanae.

Her heartbeat sped up.

They hadn’t helped each other in quite such an intimate manner since childhood.

Still, the young master was very fair and his scalp was notorious for burning.

In elementary school, he had once burned and then flaked so badly there’d been a scare that he’d had lice and he was sent to the nurse’s office to be checked. He'd been mortified by the incident ever since. Ryūken was easily embarrassed by such things.

Kanae considered herself a bit more flexible. Inconvenience was having a strap of her bra break or an underwire snap and start scratching along her ribs in the middle of a battle with a Hollow. Very uncomfortable. And why she had started wearing sports bras with elastic on all of her Hollow-hunting missions.

Ryūken Ishida was simply… more delicate than her.

“Here, sir, I’ll help you first,” she offered.

“Wait.” He applied it for himself on his arms, legs, and chest but needed help for his back. 

Thankfully, she was used to helping with ointments and dressings for her fellow Gemischts. So this wasn’t the first time she’d helped a man. 

She was more worried about her turn but she batted that down to stay in the moment. 

His back and shoulders were firm. His was the body of a master archer and lean athlete. He’d trained diligently all of his life for these muscles. She felt pride that she’d helped make him this strong.

She then dedicated herself to dabbing lotion along areas where the sun would beat down on his scalp.

“Is my hair the first thing you notice?” he grumbled as she traced his part.

“Yes. Like snow.” 

He grunted and removed his glasses. 

She carefully applied lotion to his face and ears, never letting her fingers linger inappropriately. She respected him too much to indulge in the intimacy this moment afforded. She would never want him to feel uncomfortable or unsafe in her proximity.

He set his glasses back on. “Now you.” 

He accepted the bottle from her.

She closed her eyes during her turn and tried to pretend this was just another Gemischt applying pain creams after a particularly brutal sparring round or a rough mission.

She wasn’t quite prepared for the feather-light touch she received which made her skin tingle more than if he’d just been applying it the way he had for himself moments earlier.

She tried to address it. “Sir, you won’t hurt me by—”

“No, I won’t,” he agreed and continued to very gently rub the lotion in.

A lot of attention was paid along her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her forehead, her chin and jawline, and her ears.

He moved behind her and twisted her hair up. 

“Hold it here,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir.” She reached up with her left hand. He maneuvered it to the best position. 

His fingers on her fingers… she opened her eyes and stared out at the ocean.

“Good. There. Hold it there.”

“Yes, sir.”

More pressure was applied as he set lotion on her back.

She wasn’t wearing a low dipping swimsuit but she became very aware as his hands came close to the elastic seam before reaching up to the nape of her neck.

He rubbed his thumbs against either side of her neck and then glided his palms to her shoulders on either side.

“You’re slouching, Katagiri.”

She tried to stand up straighter. He surprised her by pulling her shoulders back. 

That felt good. “Ah.”

He made a noise like a ‘tsk.’ “You might benefit from some physical therapy. I can ask at school or you can call our contact at the hospital.”

“No. They’ll see any complaint or request for guidance as weakness—”

“Ridiculous. Too much stress could injure you and hinder your fighting prowess.”

He pressed deeper where other muscles were tense and she sighed again.

“How will you perform to the best of your abilities, if you’re not properly attended?” He murmured.

Like an instrument. Bowstrings had to be unslung and waxed and properly stored to remain in good shape.

She was an instrument of war.

His hand moved to one part of her back that was a little sore and she winced.

“Katagiri?”

“A month ago. Nearly healed.”

“Have you been fighting in full armor on your hunting missions?” He asked sternly.

She fidgeted.

“Katagiri?” He scolded.

“…”

Full armor impacted her speed.

“When you hunt, you must wear your full armor.”

“…”

“Swear it, Katagiri.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

“Good.”

Mollified, he returned to applying the sunblock, stroking the backs and undersides of her arms.

Ryūken was an idiot. He knew that but it kept being hammered further and further in.

He shouldn’t have touched her skin. There was an even stronger desire now to reach for her. 

Katagiri felt soft; it clashed with her warrioress persona. While his hands could feel the firmness of her musculature, because she took training very seriously, there was a supple softness.

He’d studied skin in school. All the facts were plain.

Female skin was thinner, smoother. There was a greater layer of subcutaneous fat. 

He liked feeling those facts, massaging them until he heard soft “ahs” that made a small thrill of dangerous excitement spike in him.

He indulged himself, letting his hands stroke her silken hair as he twisted it and moved it to rest on top of her head. 

He was standing so much closer than was necessary. 

In movies and poetry, this was the moment a man kissed the nape of a woman.

He suddenly understood it—why napes were attractive. He could brush his nose against that curving line and—

“Would you like to race, sir?” Katagiri asked.

“Hm? What?”

“To the buoy?”

He was struck with the sudden pained thought that she wanted to be away from him. She was making up an excuse to literally run from him.

She turned, shoulder brushing very slightly against his chest. She looked up at him and smiled—a competitive glint in her eye that reminded him of their days in the archery club as they subtly egged one another on to more impressive feats.

His lips curved and he handed his glasses to her which she stowed in her purse. “Ha. You’re on.”

Damn it, Ryuu, be romantic! Masaki raged internally.

It was like he had no concept of what to do.

He just stared at Katagiri a lot and liked her attention to be focused on him. He’d sulk if she was distracted or if Masaki monopolized too much of her time. Or if something bothered him. Or… really anything.

Her cousin was moody.

When lunch came, he didn’t like the sandwiches they bought.

“Katagiri makes them better,” he decided as he pushed up his glasses.

Duh. She made sandwiches exactly how Ryūken liked them because she had to and she had years of practice!

“But we don’t want her to have to work on her birthday,” Masaki muttered. 

He raised a white eyebrow. “Of course not. I mean it as a compliment.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Afterwards, he presented Katagiri with a small gift. “For you.” 

It was a bright silver chain for a necklace.

Was that it? There wasn’t even a pendant.

“Ohhh. It’s perfect. Thank you, sir.”

“Did you… take it off? I thought you were wearing it earlier.” He looked a little worried.

“Yes, to keep it safe before we started swimming.”

“Ah. Wise.”

From her purse, she pulled out a white jade necklace. She changed out the old cord with the new chain and admired it. 

Masaki vaguely recognized it from other times Katagiri wore it.

It was kind of masculine. She was surprised Ryuu hadn’t chosen a finer or more ornamental chain.

“It looks very nice,” Ryūken complimented.

At Masaki’s inquisitive stare, Katagiri explained, “This was my father’s.”

Oh…

“V-very nice,” Masaki agreed numbly.

She looked on Ryūken more charitably then. He was honoring Katagiri’s wishes. Katagiri was honoring her father. That necklace was likely her only remaining connection to her family.

It was a priceless heirloom.

And… Ryūken… wanted to be included?

Wait.

That was… super bold, wasn’t it?

Not to simply give money with a business card for a jeweler.

He went out and selected a piece knowing it was going to be worn.

“I’ll help you with the clasp,” he offered.

He even put it on her.

Katagiri turned and pulled her hair out of the way.

Ryūken fastened it. “Let’s see. If the length isn’t right, I can exchange it.”

She turned back around.

The silver was bright against her pale skin.

“Well?” She asked.

Ryūken reached and straightened the pendant, fingers brushing against her collarbone.

Katagiri and Masaki blushed at his forwardness.

Geez, Ryuu! Why settle for the title of boyfriend when you can just leapfrog to husband with actions like that?!

“There, it was crooked. Now it looks right,” he said smugly.

“T-thank you.”

Still, if Katagiri could take all her cousin’s bumbling and not get creeped out and offended… there was more than a high probability it meant she liked him back.

He just needed a little more help.

She nodded to herself. Don’t worry, Big Cousin Ryuu! Little Cousin Masaki to the rescue!

Ryūken’s eyebrows twitched even as he reminded himself that Katagiri wanted this.

It was just… he found amusement parks loud, smelly, dirty, and crowded with crude people.

It felt unsafe. There were too many dangers. What if a Hollow attacked? Or muggers? Or pickpockets?

“Are you sure this is where you want to spend your time?” He asked.

Katagiri nodded emphatically.

He sighed. “I just… I could take you somewhere else with more… ambience.” Like a symphony or a garden or anywhere but here.

“No, it’s exciting here. And soon all the lights will turn on. I like when the night glows with celebration.”

He felt his face warm at the passion in her soft words. “Very well.”

They rode bumper cars, roller coasters, and spinning rides that made him nauseous.

While he recovered, Katagiri and Masaki perused some of the carnival game stalls to see if there were any they wanted to play.

When he felt better, Masaki forced them all into a Photo Booth. There was not enough room and his cousin had all but pushed Katagiri into him.

He’d had to catch her in his arms to break her fall.

“Masaki Kurosaki!” He scolded. “Your carelessness could’ve caused her harm-”

“Shush, Ryuu! It’s starting. Smiiile!”

The resulting photos were beyond atrocious.

Him and Katagiri ill at ease in each other’s close proximity.

Masaki in front of them, making silly faces at the camera until the last one where she ducked down and he and Katagiri were left alone in the frame.

Stupid photo strip. The booth had printed two. One had been given to Katagiri and he had the other.

That last frame…

Both of them looked bewildered as they stared at one another. All semblance of propriety gone. Close enough to kiss.

And damn it all, he’d thought about it.

And he couldn’t tell if he was relieved he’d survived temptation or thoroughly disappointed.

He wanted to go home. They should’ve driven home after he gave her his gift.

Then, they could’ve spent the rest of their day leisurely. Could’ve sat under their tree and relaxed with books and snacks or gone to a movie and maybe… in the cover of darkness he could’ve rested his hand over hers. And judging on how she reacted he’d have known whether… whether his attentions were welcome. And if they weren’t, he could shrug it off as a mistake.

And if they were…welcomed… maybe intertwine their fingers? The way he had when they were young? 

The sun had set a few minutes ago and the lights Kanae had wanted to seen were on.

Was it enough?

“Katagiri, how long did you want to stay here?” 

Kanae plastered a smile. The Young Master was starting to whine which, she’d learned long ago, meant he was getting hungry and bored.

Still, this was her birthday and he’d chosen to come.

She was resolved as she said, “I’d like to play some of the games and ride the Ferris wheel before leaving.”

He nodded and checked his watch. “Very well. Let’s hurry on with it. We don’t want to be out too late with the riff raff. And we haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Awww, Ryuu, there’s food everywhere here,” Masaki opened her arms in exasperation.

There was karaage, takoyaki, okonomiyaki, and other fried delights.

He made a face. “Greasy junk…”

Kanae shared a commiserating look with the younger girl—they would have had an easier time without him.

“Don’t you agree, Katagiri?” He asked.

“….Everything in moderation.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted. 

Still, after a few moments, he asked, “Did you want cotton candy?”

“I do!” Masaki cried.

“I know that. You always do,” he muttered tersely.

Kanae had the sudden uneasy feeling that the young master and the young mistress would be a bickering couple if steps weren’t taken to smooth things out at the start.

“I think we would both appreciate that as a treat.”

“What flavor?”

“Cherry.”

“Strawberry!” Masaki piped up.

“Very well.”

“We’ll be starting at the end stall and working our way to the knockdown bottle game.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm. There’s… a prize I want to try to win. But I need to hone my skills so I’ll be ready.”

“Ah.” His lips curved in amusement. “So competitive.”

She smiled and nodded.

He pulled out his wallet. 

“N-no, sir.”

“For you and Masaki to play. It’s the least I can do. I’m sure you didn’t wake up this morning intending to play child minder all day,” he grumbled.

No, she didn’t… for either of them.

“Still—”

“Please, Katagiri, let me make this day easier for you however I can.” 

She accepted the money and barely felt Masaki hook arms with her and drag her off.

His eyes…

His voice…

So warm…

She bit her lip.

“Miss?”

“Miss?”

“Miss?!”

“Hmm?” She glanced up.

The vendor raised an eyebrow.

She blinked. “Yes?”

He asked boredly, “Do you want to play or not?”

“Ack! Y-yes! We do. How much?”

It was no wonder Ryuu always talked up Katagiri’s skills.

She was intense when she got competitive. She sized everything up.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes steely. “Mistress Masaki?”

“Y-yes, ma’am?”

“Which plushie do you want?” 

“Uhh, I… lost when it was my turn. So you get to-”

“Choose,” Katagiri told her imperiously.

“Octopus.”

She nodded solemnly and turned back to the vendor. “We will take the octopus.”

The man running the stall scoffed, “You need to win first, Missy.”

Katagiri scoffed back, “Move so I can.”

She was crazy good at darts. All the balloons were popped in record time. 

“Octopus. Now,” Katagiri demanded.

It was so cute and squishy. Masaki played with its limbs.

“There. A belated gift but something fun for your birthday.” The older girl smiled.

“Aww, Katagiri, you didn’t have to.”

“You’ve put a lot of effort into today. It deserves to be rewarded.”

Masaki’s eyes widened. Whoa… had she noticed? Did she approve of Masaki pairing her up with Ryuu?

They went to another dart game. Katagiri was on a winning streak.

“Ladies, your confections,” Ryūken handed them both cotton candy as he caught up to them.

It was delicious. Masaki chomped large sugary wads and begged for someone to win her a goldfish.

“Absolutely not,” Ryūken said.

“Katagiri, win me a fish!”

“Masaki doesn’t need to kill another fish. All the ones I won you at the last festival died.”

“It was the temperature and the tank size. I’ll do better this time.”

“No, I forbid it.”

Rifle games and ring tosses came next.

Katagiri and Ryūken were competitive.

Masaki hung back and cheered them on and watched as the pile of prizes grew.

At the knock-down bottle game, Katagiri’s joy fizzled on earning a second-tier prize.

She’d gotten a small blue dolphin. Ryuu had gotten a white one.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her disappointment immediately.

She sighed and looked up at the top shelf.

“I… I wanted that dragon.”

Ryūken glanced up at it and then murmured, “Katagiri…You realize he’s cheating, yes?”

“Huh?” Her blue eyes went wide.

Ryūken frowned. “Sir? I’ll have another turn. Masaki, hold this.”

The dolphin plushie was nice, too.

“Now, all the bottles of the third stack need to hit the floor to win the top shelf prizes, correct?” Ryūken confirmed as he gripped the ball.

“You got it, but that last stack’s a doozy.” He smiled in a sleazy way.

Ryūken smiled back—just as unfriendly.

Masaki swallowed nervously.

“Thank you,” Ryūken said.

That last stack was no match for blut arterie.

Auntie would be furious to see Ryuu misuse his power like that.

The bottles and the table they were glued to fell over.

But Katagiri got to walk away with the large blue dragon plushie in her arms and Ryuu was practically strutting.

So that was all that really mattered.

“He is so perfect.” Katagiri admired the little dragon and its slightly iridescent blue scales.

“He?” Masaki asked as she juggled an armful of plushies. 

Katagiri nodded. “It’s a he. Look at the whiskers and the spine ridges. Prominent.”

Masaki indulged her. “Chinese or Japanese?”

“Mixed.”

Masaki blinked. “Oh?”

“Yes. Four-toed but his horns are long and straight, rather than branched. He is handsome.”

“Awww Ryuu, look, it’s little Ryuu and he’s haaandsome,” Masaki giggled.

Her cousin’s cheeks pinked and he looked away.

Masaki grinned. “What’s his name, Katagiri? Ryūnosuke? Ryūichi? Ryūji?”

Ryuu’s face was so red. He looked torn between wanting to tell Masaki off and straining his ears to hear Katagiri’s answer.

Katagiri frowned in concentration. “I don’t know but you’re right, Miss. It should have ‘Ryū’ in it.”

Masaki smiled slyly at her cousin. “Oh, you like that kanji?”

“Oh yes!”

And just like that Masaki got Katagiri to talk about dragons. And boy did she have a lot to say. 

Dragons were strong, resilient, and courageous. They were forces of nature. Protectors. Examples of power balanced with grace.

She’d read all kinds of myths and legends as a little girl and she still enjoyed the subject now. New Year’s was one of her favorite times of year because of all the dragon decorations and kites and parades.

Dragons were so beautiful. Dragons were so lucky. Dragons were so good.

Ryuu was lobster red by the time they were standing in line for the Ferris wheel. 

And when it was their turn, Masaki let Katagiri and Ryuu enter the carriage and closed the door for them.

Thunk!

“Masaki?!”

“Mistress Masaki?!”

She waved cheerily and gave the door a playful pat. “Meet you after! I’m gonna grab a snack! Have fun, BYE!”

She wondered if she could bribe the operator to make the ride last longer.

Come on, Ryuu! You can do it! Birthday. Ferris wheel. Pretty lights and she loves dragons. Seal the deal with a kiss! 

And then Auntie’s plans for an arranged marriage between the Ishidas and the Kurosakis could finally be dismantled and maybe all of them could be happy?

She gazed up at the carriage as it rose. She wanted to believe that love could overcome anything.

And if Ryuu could find it, maybe she could, too?

Chapter Text

“Please sit down, sir,” one of the ride operators advised.

Ryūken very reluctantly did so and only because he didn’t want to make an even bigger scene.

Masaki… his teeth clenched. It was like she couldn’t help being loud and ridiculous.

The Ferris wheel moved as the final carriages were filled.

Ryūken stared hard out of the window as Masaki disappeared into the crowd.

What was she thinking?! He was responsible for her! If anything befell her, Mother—

Katagiri started to giggle.

He shifted his attention to her and frowned.

She bit her lips but couldn’t hold back a smile. “She’s going to buy so many sweets while we’re in here.”

“You sense her?”

She nodded cheerfully. “By the snack vendor as she said. She wasted no time.” She tapped the window near her as an extra confirmation.

Masaki wasn’t even concealing her energy. That was stupid. What if a Hollow hunted her?

He changed sides to see for himself, though his movement made the carriage give a hard swing. 

Katagiri made a soft sound of alarm and she jerked in fear. He snaked an arm around her and briefly lifted them both on reishi before slowly setting them back down on the bench.

The carriage still moved at the reintroduction of their weight but more slowly and controlled.

“Even if this carriage fell, I’d have you so don’t be afraid, Katagiri.”

She glanced up at him, went a little pink as she nodded, and then relaxed against him.

The operator announced over the system a request for riders not to change positions like he’d done.

He frowned.

Katagiri was very amused.

He frowned harder.

His arm was still around her. Her whole side was pressed against him. 

The gentlemanly thing to do would be to separate.

He didn’t move. “Ah, you’re right. She is by a snack vendor. It wasn’t a ploy to wander off. I see her. That hair. You’re lucky yours isn’t weird like ours.”

She giggled again. The jostling movement reminded him of childhood when they’d sometimes hide under beds or in closets and wardrobes from childminders. 

Close. Intimate. Trustworthy. 

Allowed to be in his proximity.

She gestured at the view excitedly. “So high up. We can see everything up here.”

He gave soft “ah’s” and “I see’s” and enjoyed the way she smelled like vanilla shampoo and seawater. There was the solid feel of her hip against his, the entirety of her leg next to his.

A breeze made her hair tickle his nose. She tucked it behind her ear. 

He leaned down, lips very close to that delicate shell which was suddenly very noticeable to him.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?”

Katagiri shivered a little. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over them both. 

She leaned more against him and sighed contentedly. “Yes.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” That was an odd reply.

“It… it’s nice that you… that this… matters to…”

“You matter.”

She blushed.

“You matter,” he repeated sternly.

Too often it seemed like Katagiri worked diligently and received no respite.

That made him angry. It made him determined to do something.

He opened his mouth—

She glanced up at him with big blue eyes. 

Whatever else he planned to say fled.

Her head tilted slightly. Her lips parted.

Her lips…

With a bowstring across them…

Enveloping a fork with a bite of a confection…

Brushing away a bit of cream from them with her thumb and licking it…

He leaned forward.

It began to rain. The distinct metallic pitter-pattering on the roof of the carriage was irrefutable.

He frowned severely and grumbled, “We’re going to get drenched the moment we step out.”

“It’s just that time of year.” Katagiri smiled. “I love how fresh and mysterious it smells when it rains.”

He snickered and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize ‘mysterious’ had a smell.”

She shrugged. “Rain is… I don’t know, curious? It explores and connects all kinds of things and places. Rivers, lakes, oceans…”

He gave a flat, indulgent “Ah.”

She gave him a look. “I like the rain.”

His lips curved. “I’ll trust your judgment then.”

“Hm?”

“It is Katagiri’s birthday and if Katagiri decrees that rain is good, so shall it be known,” he teased.

She nudged him very slightly with her elbow in a gentle rebuke and then redirected him with, “Look how all the light shines.”

The puddles were making the world double with reflections.

“Beautiful,” she murmured.

“Hn.” The scenery wasn’t that impressive. Perhaps if they’d been home in the gardens he’d feel as certain as she did? 

“As you undoubtedly agree because it is my birthday.” She hugged the dragon plushie closer.

It was distracting. “…Yes.”

She smiled brightly. That was even more distracting.

And it reminded him.

She liked dragons. Liked the kanji. She said so. He felt his face warming up again. 

“Awww Ryuu, look, it’s little Ryuu and he’s haaandsome,” Masaki giggled. “What’s his name, Katagiri? Ryūnosuke? Ryūichi? Ryūji?”

Katagiri frowned in concentration. “I don’t know but you’re right, Miss. It should have ‘Ryū’ in it.”

The pronunciation…The way she said Ryū… made him want to hear it again.

No, it made him want to hear her say his full name without adornment.

Ryūken…

When they were younger, he’d sometimes catch her speaking of him to others at school. Ones that would scoff if she was too reverent of him or make trouble for him if they thought he was forcing her to call him that.

She never called him Ryuu…

And honestly, he’d never want her to.

It was infantile.

But… Little Ryuu as a pet name for someone else…

His ears felt hot. A lot of him felt hot.

For some reason, a strange sensation seized him and he abruptly envisioned Little Ryū Katagiri strapped to his? Her? mother’s chest.

It was a compliment, right?

That his guard… would want to name her child… something that connected to him…

It meant he’d made a good impression.

All those things she associated with dragons…

He hadn’t undermined her thoughts on the subject despite countless moments of childhood absurdity and adolescent drama.

It made him feel flattered and embarrassed and emboldened and restless.

Little Ryū… 

He was an Echt.

Ryūsei?

He was engaged.

Ryūga?

The Ishida Family was depending on him to lead the Quincies.

Ryūhi?

No. No… he wanted the name to hold special significance—

He was being an idiot.

She was naming a plushie, not a…

He was just her employer.

Her future leader.

Her husband would help her make such decisions. 

His stomach flopped.

He had no business thinking up things like this. It was disrespectful.

The ride ended.

A downpour awaited them.

When they stepped out of the carriage, he set his jacket over her head and motioned for her to follow him. They hurried to Masaki’s stall. 

“Heyyyyy!” Masaki waved. She was perched on a barstool with an embarrassing amount of snack baskets surrounding her. 

Many of which were empty.

She was such a glutton, it was exasperating.

There was rice stuck to the side of her mouth and she’d gotten some sauce on her blouse.

“These are all really good, Ryuu. You should have some!”

Kanae felt a little guilty but took up some tempura shrimp. The young mistress had given permission.

She took a bite and then another, savoring the warm crunch.

“Mmm.” It was so tasty and convenient when she wasn’t the one making it. She didn’t even care that it was a little too oily. She’d even get to throw the basket away. No dishes to clean.

Fufufufu…

“Sooo? How was the Ferris wheel?” Miss Masaki asked.

“Fine. That was foolish of you to run off like that. I’m responsible for your safety,” The young master scolded her.

The girl turned. “Well, Katagiri? Was it fun?”

“Ah, yes, Miss. I always enjoy the Ferris wheel. The view is very nice.”

Miss Masaki’s smile grew a little rigid. “Oh. Nice.”

“We should go now.” Ryūken checked his watch and eyed the pile of plushies. “I can drive for a bit. We can stop to eat a proper dinner and then we’ll be home before curfew.” 

Kanae stifled a sigh. If it was just her, she could stay and watch the fireworks. But the heir and soon-to-be heiress needed to be returned to the estate. 

She ought to agree. She was eighteen now and needed to be mature. She couldn’t always have her own way—life had taught her that.

She ate another shrimp instead of answering.

“Oh come on, Ryuu, live a little,” Masaki whined. “Please?” She held up her skewer. “Oh come on, try it! Pleeeease?! Food is one of my favorite things. And you’re never a good sport about it.”

“Masaki.” He made a face. “You’re dripping sauce everywhere.”

She pouted. “Face it. You’re boring.”

“You’re reckless,” he countered.

“Katagiri probably thinks you’re boring, too. She’s just too polite to say so—”

Kanae blinked, unsure why she was suddenly a part of this argument. 

Ryūken abruptly looked her way as if expecting her to overrule this comment.

She was a servant. Was she even allowed to say anything? And even if she should, she had a mouthful of shrimp right now.

If she had to be honest…Masaki’s words were an unfair and poorly timed, but not unreasonable, assessment. The young master and the young mistress had very different palates and values.

Masaki was more adventurous. Carefree. She had that luxury, that lifestyle, before an unhappy twist of fate led her here.

For all his family’s domestic wealth, Ryūken had lived a far harder life, always shouldering the weight of his household’s expectations.

Even if his cage opened, Kanae couldn’t see him soaring past and out into the open skies. He was loyal. He would never discard his family. They were too important.

But was there a way to convey that to Masaki without rubbing the fact that she was an orphan in her face?

That her lack of bonds meant she continued to have freedom that he didn’t? 

Something like hurt flitted across Ryūken’s face at her silence.

He could be very sensitive to how others viewed him.

Masaki smirked, sensing victory.

“Fine!” He grabbed the grilled spear from her. He tore a chunk of chicken off with his teeth and gave a vicious bite into the next vegetable and froze.

Oh no. Kanae knew that look.

“Tasty? Right?” Masaki beamed. “Here, try this one, too. It’s more sweet than spicy. Tangy? I guess?”

He spat the mouthful out on the ground. 

“Ryuu?!” 

Oh no. “Sir?!” 

“I need to get back to the car,” he stated softly but urgently.

“Huh?” Masaki’s head tilted in confusion. “What for? We should stay. There’s going to be fireworks.”

“Ana-Kit.”

Masaki frowned. “What?”

Kanae forced in a breath and asked in as level of a voice as she could manage. “Young Mistress, are there shiitake mushrooms in that skewer?”

“Um… I think so…” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Can he not…?”

Kanae struggled to maintain composure. “No, he can’t have that. He has allergies and that is the most severe one. You will go to the medical booth and call an ambulance. Inform them that Master Ryūken is suffering anaphylaxis. They can then bring the appropriate equipment to the parking lot, eastern side, spot 37.”

Masaki stared.

“Now!” Kanae commanded, eyes flashing. “I’ll go with him and help him with the syringe.”

She had training.

It helped. She’d also witnessed an attack before so that made her better prepared.

It was still tense and awful.

Almost as bad as the trust she could see in his eyes as she helped inject him with the syringe and then they waited together.

That he trusted her even after failing him like this. 

She should’ve supported him in the argument and insisted they leave.

No.

She shouldn’t have allowed either of them to come. She’d led them into danger.

It was inexcusable.

She’d betrayed the House of Ishida with her selfishness.

For a birthday.

She turned the hazard lights and the headlights of the car on. 

He sat in the passenger’s seat. She kept the car door open. She stood beside him and held an umbrella that had been packed in the trunk to help block the rain when the direction slanted. 

He kept gently pushing the shaft so the canopy would protect both of them.

She glared at him once for interfering but he held her gaze so steadily she had to relent. She reluctantly adjusted her hold and covered them both from the rain.

When the ambulance arrived, she pulled the allergy card she kept in her purse so the young master wouldn’t need to bother with his wallet.

He was wheezing as the paramedics settled him on a stretcher and moved him into the vehicle. 

She wrote down the address of the hospital they were taking him to.

She vaguely registered Masaki arriving as the vehicle departed, head bowed, body trembling, clutching an armful of wet plushies.

Kanae’s first impulse was anger. How dare Masaki not prioritize Ryūken’s health?! He was the heir. The mistress would’ve told her upon bringing her into the house all the things she needed to avoid to keep Ryūken safe.

Mistress Izumi was devoted to her son’s wellbeing.

Once again, it was the same lazy attitude Masaki Kurosaki applied towards school and Quincy arts. Preferring to, as she would say, “wing it.”

Her nostrils flared.

No. 

Breathe.

Release. 

Miss Masaki Kurosaki would become Mistress Masaki Ishida. 

Master Ryūken’s bride. 

It was better to accept it now. Fully. 

They all had their places. Their purposes. For the Quincies.

This anger in her breast served no purpose. It was a distraction. It would undermine her service. Compromise her honor.

Masaki was young. She was going to make mistakes.

The one Kanae couldn’t and shouldn’t forgive was herself. She knew better. She had the opportunity to explain his allergies earlier in the store when they were buying food and Masaki was growing impatient. She should’ve realized then that the girl didn’t understand. The Kurosakis must’ve sheltered her.

Old Echt families like the Ishidas had accumulated certain… inevitable frailties as a result of their… preservation efforts. By prioritizing their spiritual power, they sacrificed other attributes.

Allergies, poor eyesight, slighter frames, gastrointestinal delicacy, unusual physiological traits here and there…were all part of the price.

The Katagiris had a genetic predisposition for hypotension. If she did have a child, it was guaranteed she’d pass it on: autosomal dominant inheritance… but it came with their family’s unmatched command of ransōtengai and hirenkyaku. 

Father said it was in the blood. Their gifts. And their curses. And both had to be accepted through the veins and heart. 

“Courage, Kanae. Courage and honor is what we must have and hold onto.

So that we may stand strong until the end as pillars of this world.”

The end…

She was the end of their line.

In some ways, it was a relief to know she’d never marry and have to worry about an offspring inheriting her weaknesses. 

But the Ishidas…

They weren’t at the end. Not yet. This was awful and premature.

This was Kanae’s fault.

If Ryūken died…

She felt like her heart was clawed out of her chest.

Still…

She took a deep breath. Composed herself.

The world didn’t stop turning because her heart was breaking. It never had before and it wouldn’t now. There remained tasks to do, duties to uphold.

For the House of Katagiri, as long as she drew breath—she would safeguard what remained of her family’s honor.

Mechanically, she comforted the younger girl and ushered her into the car.

She turned off the hazard lights. Took an emergency flashlight from the glove compartment and reviewed the map.

She told her charge that they were going to the hospital. From there, they could contact the estate and await further orders.

Masaki sat beside Katagiri in the waiting room, staring at her shoes against the dark gray carpet. She hated hospitals. It was hard to remember a time when they didn’t serve her bad news. 

Even “good” results from checkups regarding her growth felt bad when she could hear her aunt’s satisfaction that she was maturing “early.”

She shook her head and sent droplets of rainwater everywhere.

She sucked in a breath and the room went blurry. She hadn’t known his allergies were life-threatening. Just thought Auntie was being dramatic like she usually was. Masaki felt like such a jerk for teasing him so much.

She sniffled.

Katagiri fetched her a tissue box.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Miss Masaki.” Her tone was a few notes cooler than usual but nothing in her expression betrayed contempt. The older girl seemed more distracted than anything.

It was a little creepy.

She was soaked. Wetter than Masaki was and acting like sitting here sopping wet in a hospital that was blasting their A/C was nothing.

It made Masaki feel even more alone with her distress.

Was she wrong? Did Kanae not see Ryuu as something more? Was she just professional straight to the bone?

She sniffled and blew her nose.

A nurse came out to the lobby. “Miss Katagiri?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Are you Katagiri?

She stood. Cool. Calm. Collected. “I am.”

“Mr. Ishida is requesting your presence, Miss Katagiri.”

“Miss Masaki? By your leave?”

Like this was just another shift of work at the house.

Masaki nodded shakily. “Y-yes. I’ll be fine.”

Katagiri gave a tight nod, a brief bow, and then followed the other woman out.

Masaki waited a half beat before concealing her energy and scrambling out of her seat to follow.

She ducked behind the corner and waited for the nurse to go.

When she was sure it was just Katagiri and Ryūken in the room, she crept closer to the open doorway and overheard the Gemischt bodyguard apologize: “I am sorry, sir.”

There was an unintelligible grumble.

Masaki peeked in.

Her cousin had been intubated.

She felt sick to her stomach.

His skin was mottled with hives.

It was all her fault.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Katagiri repeated, she continued to bow, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

He shrugged his shoulders. Not that she could see.

Katagiri said, “Your family has been informed. Others from the house should be on their way.”

He tapped the bed rails to get her attention.

She glanced up and he gestured for her to sit down in the chair beside him.

“N-no, sir, I should do something more useful. Perhaps, Miss Masaki can—”

He pointed to the writing pad and pen on a rolling cart of supplies. 

Katagiri brought it to him. “Sir.”

Masaki wasn’t sure exactly what he asked but Katagiri accepted the pad, read what he wrote, and then cleared her throat and began talking about sewing books she’d read and the projects she’d either started or was planning.

It was like she was giving a report or a lecture or facing down a firing squad…

Ryūken made a sound of frustration and pointed emphatically to the chair again.

Katagiri sighed and sat down. “Sir?”

He beckoned her closer.

She moved the chair nearer and set a hand on the bedrails. He covered it with his own.

She continued talking about a handkerchief dress but in softer tones and then her desire to make a celestial maiden outfit. Better than one she’d made as a child.

Ryūken wasn’t wearing his large, dark-rimmed glasses so his expression was easy for Masaki to read.

His eyes were soft and focused only on Katagiri.

Ohhh…

Ryuu had asked her to keep him company.

It was almost two hours before Katagiri realized Masaki was sitting on the floor outside the room and beckoned her in.

All too soon, Aunt Izumi and a group of guards arrived. They stationed themselves outside of the room as Mistress Ishida stormed in.

Masaki braced herself. She bowed low. “I’m sorry Auntie, it’s my fault. I didn’t know how serious his food allergies were.”

“Then I see Katagiri failed to properly emphasize the severity of his affliction.”

Masaki grimaced. The last thing she wanted was to drag—

“Mo… ther.”

“Oh!” Izumi rushed over to him, lines of worry creasing on her face. “My poor Ryūken.”

“Ssstop.”

“Oh…Your poor face. It will be alright, my son. Don’t strain yourself. Leave it all to me. I’ll arrange everything.”

He frowned.

“Katagiri,” Izumi commanded.

“Mistress.” She bowed.

“Drive Masaki home.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Her lip curled. “I’ll deal with you both later.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryuu,” Masaki said one last time before they left.

When Ryūken was stable, he was transferred to Karakura Hospital for additional observation because his mother was terrified of a biphasic reaction… which ended up occurring.

At least the private family wing of their hospital was comfortable.

His father came to see him, which was a surprisingly fortuitous visitation.

Mother was asleep in a guest bed nearby and Ryūken was able to whisper the whole situation.

“Father, please. It was just an accident. I was careless. Me. It’s my own fault. Do not let her blame them.”

His aged father nodded gravely. “I will see to it that no harm befalls Masaki or Katagiri.”

Ryūken slumped back into his pillows in relief. “Thank you, Father.”

“Rest, Ryuu.”

When he was discharged, his skin was still mottled with some lingering hives.

His professors had been very understanding and adjusted some deadlines for him. It probably helped that he was an Ishida. His family name had a way of making some things easier.

What had him feeling exhausted and annoyed was having to explain repeatedly to his mother that oral corticosteroids were not like anabolic steroids and that any impact on his virility was only going to be temporary.

She was still panicking. 

It was embarrassing.

Yes, it would briefly lower his testosterone and libido but as he wasn’t married and trying for an heir right now, there was no harm. His biochemistry would return to normal once the urticaria resolved and he could stop taking the medication.

At least he was home.

He entered his bedroom to find Katagiri there dusting.

She bowed. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll be finished soon. I thank you for your patience.”

“It’s fine, Katagiri. Thank you for not neglecting this space during my absence.” He grabbed a textbook and laid down on his bed.

She continued dusting.

“Well, was I exciting enough for your birthday?”

“Sir!” She gasped and her hand moved spastically, hitting the blinds against the window.

She grimaced at the sound. 

He smirked. “Let no one accuse me of being boring.”

She shook her head gravely, rejecting his attempt at humor.

He opened his biology book but couldn’t concentrate. “Don’t… Don’t let Mother get to you. She’s…difficult. I hope she didn’t trouble you too much over it.”

She shook her head, not looking at him. She hadn’t looked at him once since he entered the room. She was now intensely focused on the knickknacks on his shelf.

He set his book down. “I know, I know. I’m hideous. Acute hives—” 

“No.” She gripped the duster tightly.

“Katagiri.” He’d seen his reflection.

“…Does it itch?”

“Terribly.”

“Did they issue you a topical medicine?”

“Yes.”

“Do you… need help applying it, sir?”

He did actually. The choice had been between Mother, Masaki, or one of the household’s medics. Mother had offered before and then mentioned that such caregiving would be good practice for a future bride and that this was an opportunity for him and Masaki to bond.

The idea of his… intended fiancée bonding to him out of guilt… made him uncomfortable.

Kanae was easily the best person for the task though it was quite possibly the least romantic thing he could ask of her.

Maybe it was for the best? If he got to see disgust in her eyes, it could kill… whatever this was between them?

“I would appreciate your assistance.” 

She turned around and waited as he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Even though she’d seen his bare torso before and would be applying medicine to it in minutes. She was funny that way.

He laid down, prone, on the bed. “Katagiri?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“I’m ready.”

Her fingers were very gentle as she applied the cream to his back. 

She was too quiet.

He smiled ruefully. “I look horrible, don’t I? Masaki was frightened when she last visited me at the hospital.” 

He was still a little miffed that Katagiri hadn’t come to see him after he was transferred to Karakura General.

“You’re just having a reaction. The reaction is frightening. Not you, sir. I’m sure she’ll tell you that.”

She dabbed more cream on his arms and shoulders. He tried to gauge her from the corner of his eye, but she was pale and composed and unsmiling.

“It’s alright, Katagiri, you can be honest with me.”

She stopped and pulled back. “Very well.”

“...”

“Does my hypotension disgust you, sir?”

“What?!” He propped himself up on his elbows and looked over his shoulder in shock. “Of course not.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled, then smiled. “You had me worried, sir. To think you might resent me for it… it would… change the context of a lot of my memories. I would hate for you to feel that you missed out on so much because your guard couldn’t live up to her duties—”

“No.” He didn’t want to hear this. He sat up and swung his legs back over the bed. “…No. Never think that. No one else is worthy.”

She looked pained. Her blue eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry I failed to protect you from this.”

“Katagiri…no… it was my own doing.”

She looked at him so unflinchingly. “Is there anything more I can do?”

The sudden thought of her applying the cream to his chest came to mind. Her slender fingers splayed against his chest and then trailing down from his clavicle to his abs…

He frowned. The corticosteroids really did lower his receptivity to stimuli, real and imaginary. 

“No…” He sighed. “No, I’m alright.”

“If you’re studying, I could bring you a snack?” she offered, in that hopeful tone that signaled she wanted to show him care.

And when had he ever turned down care from her?

“I would appreciate that.” 

She smiled brightly and hurried to the kitchen, forgetting the duster on his desk. “I’ll be right back, sir!”

He chuckled and relaxed back onto his bed with his book and began reading.

He was studying diagrams on leukocytes and injury response inflammation when there was a knock on his open door. 

“Come in.”

“Ryuu, do you need help applying the salve?” Mother asked as she checked in on him.

“No, Mother, I’m alright. It’s already been taken care of.”

She raised her eyebrows at his state of undress. “Are shirts…uncomfortable?”

He felt his ears grow hot. “A little, Mother.”

Her lips pursed together. She went to his closet and pulled some loose linen ones out and set them on the foot of his bed. 

“…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can’t just… be shirtless. You’re an Ishida. We must maintain some standards.”

It would figure Katagiri would return then with apples to peel for him.

And the look on Mother’s face made it clear she knew exactly who had helped him.

It was nearly one in the morning. Masaki had grabbed some éclairs and apple strudel with the intent of sneaking Ryuu some. Everything in the main house was safe for her cousin to eat; she had double-checked that earlier.

She was creeping down the corridor, past Sōken’s office when—

“Our son is lusting after a maid!” 

“Izumi—”

“A maid!”

“Katagiri is not a mere maid. She is a guard and one with many admirable traits. Were her circumstances different—”

“But they’re not and she’s a Gemischt!”

“Izumi—”

“You didn’t see him. Laying there with his shirt off. He’d asked her to apply the salve and then was content to send her off to get him a refreshment. He stayed unclothed. I’m aghast to think he might’ve asked her to serve him like that on her return. Utterly shameless.”

“I can remind him to employ more thought and modesty. Though, remember that he was at the beach with her several days ago. So she has already seen him in a similar state—”

“I had hoped because Masaki was also present that he was… but now it seems it was all for that—”

“Do not punish Katagiri for his feelings.”

“O-of course not. I know she’s not… I’m not insinuating… it’s just that she’s clearly a temptation. There are other posts she could work at. Ones in Europe.”

“I hardly think it’s fair to banish her from her country of origin because of Ryūken.” 

“The House of Ishida is at stake. He’s too young to understand. I know we wanted to wait for Masaki to graduate but perhaps this is a sign that—” 

“He’s too young to control his impulses but he’s old enough for marriage?” Sōken replied dubiously.

Izumi got flustered. “I’m thinking of our lineage. Before he… makes a mistake.” 

“You realize he can get married to an Echt and still continue a relationship with a Gemischt?”

She shuddered.

Sōken continued, matter-of-fact, “It will be an open secret that will only grow more ridiculous should it bear fruit.”

“Are you telling me to accept that the line will be sullied regardless?”

“You could become the grandmother of an Echt as you desire… and the grandmother of a Gemischt that you loathe. Yet, I would caution you that in such arrangements, the feelings the father has toward the mother greatly impact how he views the child.”

“Even so—”

“As the grandmother, you would need to learn to bite your tongue. Because what you will see as an embarrassment will be his pride and joy given flesh.”

“What then do you suggest in your infinite wisdom, my husband?”

“You will need to think of Katagiri.”

“I am. Such an upright onna-musha doesn’t deserve the shame and humiliation of being reduced to a concub—”

“Allow me to rephrase. You will need to center Katagiri in your plans.”

“…”

“Katagiri will need to marry.”

“…She has no intention and I don’t want to order—”

“She will need to fall in love. You will need to facilitate opportunities. Then Ryuu can let her go.

“…”

“She deserves happiness. If he could see her happy, he would not interfere.”

“…”

“It isn’t youthful lust. He cares about her.”

“…”

“It’s the only way that will work.”

“…Very well.” Izumi’s voice sounded odd, almost melancholic.

But Masaki couldn’t appreciate what that might mean.

No. She continued onward down the hall, feeling real anger bubble up in her like pots foaming and rattling on a stove.

Why?! Why were they all game pieces on a board?! To be placed and moved and played with?!

Why couldn’t they just accept that Ryūken had feelings for Katagiri? And see what came of it? Why did they have to scheme and shred any chance of—

“Masaki?” Ryūken peered from behind his door, looking disheveled from sleep. “Are you alright?”

“…”

He blinked and squinted. His voice went flat, “Are you really going to eat all of that this late? All that sugar will give you nightmares.”