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Ayaka hummed softly, filling out the last of the paperwork she would need to include Yoimiya’s fireworks in the next festival — provided her friend remembered fire safety codes. She cracked her neck, stretching her arms to create a symphony of pops across her shoulders and sighed in relief.
“Milady?” Called Thoma, poking his head in with a slightly horrified expression. “Is everything okay?”
Ayaka chuckled, rising and knocking the papers into place so that she could hand them to her closest friend.
“Everything is fine, Thoma. I just finished handling the advance preparations for next year’s Irodori Festival and the most recent paperwork for this summer’s Gion Matsuri. See to it that Mr. Aoyama has enough materials for his float, please, or I imagine he will send another harrowing letter,” she added, pressing the paperwork into his hand and smiling tenderly as the close proximity let her see how deep the bags under his eyes were. “Once you have submitted these, please stop by the market and see if anyone needs anything.”
Ayaka gave him a sharp look and Thoma raised his hands in the air with a light chuckle. Ayaka may not be able to directly give him a day off, but she sure could force him to take breaks and find something nice for himself. She was not above ordering him directly to do just that, but she preferred not to remind him of her social status whenever she could avoid it.
“Very well, Milady,” replied Thoma, taking the papers and bowing as he slipped from the room.
The moment he was out of sight, Ayaka groaned and stretched, cracking her back even more violently than her shoulders. She knew that stupid glint in his eyes, Thoma was definitely going to find a loophole solely because he refused to relax. Someday, Ayaka was going to make him hold his eyes closed for two minutes and see if he would just fall asleep standing up. She certainly wouldn’t bet against it.
Rolling her eyes, Ayaka swept back to her desk and winced as her knees wobbled beneath her. She had stayed up all night finishing that paperwork and, as always, she felt perfectly fine. Well, for now; it would hit her like a truck the moment she slept.
“Lady Kamisato?” Called a tentative voice as a few gentle knocks sounded on her door, and Ayaka sank onto her cushion with folded hands and perfectly-crafted smile. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I shall take it in my study today. I would also like the next stack of requests, if you please,” she called, shaking away the fog hanging over her head and settling at her desk.
Ayaka’s fingers brushed over the fan she kept close to her at all times, and she gazed down at it, an ache spreading through her heart. Gently, she eased it open and studied the lovely flower amidst the waves spreading across its folds. She would never forget when she had been granted this, the mere sight of it serving as a driving force to always uphold her values.
Ayaka lay perfectly still beneath the thick fabric, heartbeat pounding her ears as Thoma docked the small boat on Watatsumi Island. To say it had been a long journey would be the understatement of the century, but Ayaka had insisted on a trip out to Kannazuka Island and, oh dear, the storms had just been too powerful and they had been blown adrift. Oh no, however would they manage?
“The coast is clear, Milady,” whispered Thoma, hopping out of the boat and holding out a hand for her. “General Gorou should be here to receive us any minute now.”
Ayaka accepted his hand gratefully, stepping out of the boat as Thoma finished tethering it. She glanced around the deserted landscape, her breath catching in her throat as thin bubbles drifted around her. They were delicate, but replete with hydro energy, almost brimming with untapped power. Ayaka knew that feeling so well.
She reached out, laying a finger carefully against its shell, gentler than she knew she could be, and held her breath. It bobbed against her finger, soft and almost squishy, and then floated away like a dream on the wind.
“Lady Kamisato?” Asked a voice, quiet enough to be discreet, but dangerous enough to be just shy of a threat.
Ayaka turned, hands raised to show she meant no harm, and smiled tenderly at the sight of a familiar face.
“It’s good to see you again, General.”
The general’s eyes grew wide as they met hers, amber shards of pure light that was somehow undamaged by the war raging around him, and she felt a deep pang run through her soul. Ayaka had not met Gorou many times, often relying on Thoma to work with the young man, but the time they had spent together had been beyond pleasant. It had been respectful, but friendly. Wise and delicate, but warm and considerate. Sometimes, she wondered if he had secretly been woven from sunlight.
“It is…so good to see you doing well, Lady Kamisato,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and their bows were deeper than was strictly necessary.
It was as if the gratitude that both of them were alive had taken a physical weight, pulling them towards the ground.
“Gorou!” Cried Thoma, running from his place on the boat and tackling the general with a rumbling laugh.
Gorou squawked, his arms pinwheeling in a desperate attempt to keep them from hitting the beach, and Ayaka’s laughter was joined by another. It was softer, lighter, and a s smooth as the waves that caressed the shore. Ayaka whipped around, one hand going to her sword, and all of the breath drained from her body as if it were nothing more than an illusion.
No, scratch that, the person she was staring at had to be an illusion. No one could possibly be that beautiful.
“Greetings,” said the gorgeous woman striding towards them, her peach hair melting into an ocean blue at the tips and done up like a queen while her purple dress swayed in time with Ayaka’s heartbeat. “My name is Sangonomiya Kokomi, the Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, General Gorou has told me much about you.”
She stopped in front of Ayaka, those lilac irises so unthamoably deep that Ayaka could sink into them for hours, and a faint blush rose to both of their cheeks. “Lady Kamisato.”
“Your Excellency.”
Somehow, Ayaka was able to execute a bow without making an absolute fool of herself, but Thoma was still grinning like a cat that got the cream. Ayaka would have to dig up some blackmail material on him once her brain finished rebooting.
“Watatsumi Island welcomes you. I am very glad you agreed to come and listen to my proposal, Lady Kamisato.”
Words! Ayaka needed words!
“It is my pleasure, Your Excellency. The Vision Hunt Decree is an abomination and I am happy to help you strike it down,” replied Ayaka, smiling as warmly as she knew how. “Please, tell me of your plans as we walk. There is much I want to see.”
“And much I want to show you,” agreed Kokomi, offering Ayaka an arm as a beautiful pink tint transformed her cheeks, matching them to her shining hair. “Come, the terrain can be a touch treacherous at times.”
“Awww, why don’t you ever do that for me, Gorou?” Asked Thoma, pouting, and Gorou shoved him playfully.
“Because if you fall, it’s your own fault!”
“Hey!”
Ayaka giggled, leaning perhaps a little too much into Kokomi’s touch, and the Divine Priestess’ own laugh was like bells singing from Celestia itself.
“Come, I will show you all the beauties of Watatsumi Island. Oh, uh, and all of our tactical arrangements,” added Kokomi, catching herself, and Ayaka couldn’t stop her smile from growing as the Divine Priestess covered her blush with a blue and gold fan.
“That sounds exquisite, Your Excellency.”
Ayaka didn’t know what she enjoyed more, being on the arm of Kokomi as they explored Watatsumi Island, or sitting beside her now in a little field overlooking the temple. Both allowed her to bask in Kokomi’s gentle laugh, her sharp mind, her flowing conversation, her…everything. Ayaka wondered if this was what it felt like to have a friend.
“If we are able to supply you with about a hundred more crossbows and twenty bundles of wood, do you think you will be able to hold this outpost?” Asked Ayaka, gesturing to a tower carefully securing their holdings in Yashiori Island.
Kokomi studied the map, and Ayaka could almost see the numbers flying around in her head as she calculated probability and efficiency.
“I believe we can succeed with that,” she agreed, tapping another location a little further along Nazuchi Beach. “We will also be able to retake this position if we have enough food.”
“Write down the numbers in our new code and give them to Thoma. I’ll see that it is done,” promised Ayaka, her heart fluttering when Kokomi turned a warm smile on her.
“Thank you, Lady Kamisato. Your work here will allow this Resistance to persevere through another battle,” she said, and Ayaka’s chest swelled.
She had seen the conditions here, had glimpsed the lack of medical supplies and adequate rations, and a part of her raged against her inability to do more. To bestow all of her wealth upon the resistance and join them, leading a direct assault on Tenshukaku. But, the logical, disciplined side of her knew they needed a political insider far more. Ayaka had spent the last two years rerouting supplies to be filched by the Resistance, sending direct aid when it was required, and occasionally leaking battle plans when an operation seemed like it might end the war. That was far riskier though, so she tended to avoid it.
“You have saved so many people, Lady Kamisato. There is not much I can offer as a token of gratitude, but please take this,” requested Kokomi, taking Ayaka’s hand in her own and placing the blue and gold fan in it.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly,” protested Ayaka, flushing bright red at the contact, and Kokomi chuckled.
“Please do,” she insisted gently. “It suits you. The white flower on it…that is a camellia. It has no scent, and its beauty is often overlooked, but…it is a symbol of respect and admiration. Your deeds will not be known, your contributions hidden away, but…look at this and remember that there are people alive today because of you. People who know what you have given them. Lady Kamisato…please accept this fan as a symbol of your title among our army.”
“My title?” Whispered Ayaka, staring at the fan as tears welled in her eyes against her will, and Kokomi brushed them away sweetly.
“Our Lady Tsubaki.”
Ayaka smiled, flipping the fan open and holding it against her mouth to hide the silent kiss she bestowed upon it. She hoped that, all those islands away, her Kokomi could feel the press of her lips.
“Lady Kamisato?” Called a voice from outside the door, and Ayaka bit back a yelp as she dropped her fan and snatched up a brush.
“Ah, the documents, please set them over there,” she replied hurriedly as the door slid open.
The maid bowed, settling the stack of papers on the indicated spot, and Ayaka smiled wearily up at her. “Thank you very much, miss.”
“Of course, Lady Kamisato! Ah, this came for you in the mail,” added the maid, pulling a letter out of her apron pocket and handing it to Ayaka. “Have a lovely day.”
She bowed again, slipping from the room as Ayaka stared down at the yellow parchment with tips tinted as blue as the deep sea. She had received about a thousand of these letters ever since she had first visited Watatsumi Island, and the two of them barely went a day without sending letters clutched in hawk’s beaks to each other. The formalities had long since died as secrets fluttered between them, truths they would never tell another soul, and both of their war-torn hearts began to beat in tandem. The faint smell of salt clung to it, and Ayaka carefully broke the seal to unfold the words she had waited so long to read. It wasn’t every day the Lady of the Kamisato clan sent a personal invitation, after all.
Dear Ayaka,
I shall be coming to Narukami Island next week for the Irodori Festival. It seems now it is your chance to be my tour guide. I shall meet you on the second day by the maple tree Kazuha so often spoke of. I have missed you, my camellia. Do promise that we may spend the day completely alone together. May the sea grant you prosperity.
Kokomi
Ayaka most certainly did not bury her face in the letter and let out a long squeal, feet kicking as a grin overspread her face, no, definitely not. But not even she could deny the way she pressed the letter to her heart and stared out at the sea that would soon bring her beloved to her.
“I promise, my pearl.”