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In Sen’s library, there was a place where the sun streamed perfectly through the window. The angles of light and glass warmed the wooden floor below. Sometimes- when tomes of demon history and lore proved to be too blood-tinged and impenetrable- Chizuru rests that day’s book in her lap and basks in the gentle glow.
Plants grow like this. Chizuru and Yamazaki had discussed this topic once or twice. There was evidence that the sun nourished plants and herbs alike. Water, light, and earth. That’s all they needed to be content.
That’s how Sen finds Chizuru; back against the wall, fingers between pages about arcane demon spells. Sen starts to say something, and then bursts into surprised laughter.
“Oh my! You look so endearing. Someone really should paint you one of these days. Just like that.”
Chizuru jumps to her feet, out of habit more than anything else. “Would you draw me?” And she smiles. Just a few months ago, teasing Sen would have been out of the question.
“Hardly.” Sen giggles into one of her sleeves. “I’m hopeless at it. I can’t even draw clouds.”
It seems impossible that Sen could fail at anything. Although… Chizuru ponders it, and she wonders if being unable to draw something a formless a cloud is really such a failure.
“You had something to tell me?”
“Ah, yes.” Sen slips into casual regality as though it happened to be just another kimono. “I should have told you ages ago. Sometimes Shiranui Kyo comes to visit me, and he arrived here just now. I really need to talk to him about letting me know his plans ahead of time.”
“Shiranui?” Chizuru tries to picture him striding into this realm of restrained elegance. Her mind recoils from it, the way the eye recoils from seeing a wolf in a crowd of deer. A total mismatch. “Here?”
“Our families are acquainted. We’ve known each other since childhood. At times he visits me. I’m not sure if it’s for his amusement or for his nostalgia, but I don’t mind. Still, I can send him away if you wish, or he can stay and I’ll never mention that you are here. And if he stays no harm will come to you.” All traces of a smile have vanished from Sen’s lips. “My guests are always protected.”
Part of Chizuru wonders what it would be like to see a promise like that enforcement. Sen knows spells and she owns weapons, but she seems to command entirely through words and charisma. The world might be better if all leaders behaved this way.
“He can stay.” Chizuru recalls the last few times they met. Shiranui deriding the weakness of her disguise, and brazenly slipping her some advice for the Shinsengumi. Shiranui undoing her hair tie, and admiring how she looked after. “I’d like to speak to him, actually, although only after you’re done with him.” Chizuru tells herself it’s because she hopes for more information for him.
Her answer puzzles Sen, but she doesn’t try to argue either. Once Chizuru is alone, there’s no longer any hope of napping. No hope of reading, either. Sometimes she thinks she hears Shiranui’s laughter on the other side of the house, even though he’s never been terribly loud. He’s flashy, with his long hair and high ratio of bare skin to clothing, but he doesn’t seem to hunger for acclaim the way others do.
That observation unearths less than pleasant memories. It would be a stretch to say she ever had a conversation with Kazama. As a rule, he spoke at her, and she listened in aggravated silence. Maybe a meek interjection here and there. Last time he had been extremely preoccupied with the idea that someone else might kiss her- sleep with her, impregnate her with a partially human child, that’s what all this boiled down to in the end- before he got around to marrying her. She lived with a bunch of men, after all.
Chizuru had managed to extricate herself from that situation with Kazama. But she had wanted to march back home, find one of her companions to the wall, pin him to the wall, and kiss him until he forgot how to breathe. Never mind that she’d never done that with anyone before, and wouldn’t really know how to start. She just wanted to steal her first kiss away from Kazama. Make it so that he would never have that, even if the worst happened. When faced with her friends in reality, that feverish plan had abated. She would have to face them daily, after all. Rash decisions so often led to embarrassment pinning her down like an anvil on her chest.
Still, the urge remains.
When she hears footsteps drawing closer, Chizuru rises to her feet. This time she does so with some grace, eyeing her yukata for wrinkles. She’s glad to find none, and equally glad that it’s a rich green color that suits her well. On her weekly visits here, Sen has taken to allowing her to wear some of her wardrobe. Kimigiku has likewise started twining her hair into a loose braid, until it looks like Chizuru’s hair natural flowed into that exact style. Effortlessness took a great deal of work, didn’t it? Chizuru never wears any adornments, but there’s a lightness to her shoulders that she almost never experiences around the Shinsengumi.
The door slides open, and Shiranui must have been told to expect her. He doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t hide his stare. Seeing him is always a shock. Something about him seems unmoored from time or expectations. Chizuru gazes back as well.
“Did you wish to speak to him alone?” Sen asks, and Chizuru gives her assent. No doubt she will have to answer many questions later, but Sen tends to respect Chizuru’s decisions.
Within moments they are without any sort of chaperone. And Chizuru isn’t quite sure what to ask or say.
At least Shiranui has never been shy about filling silences. “I’m trying to decide if this counts as seeing you dressed up for a second time.”
Ah, yes. The Sumi outfit. Chizuru had been nervous the whole time she wore it. Anxious every time even a drop of sake got near the expensive fabric. Worried the jewels in her hair would fall, scatter, break. Constantly aware of the makeup that clung to her face. She looks nothing like that now.
“It doesn’t,” Chizuru says. “Not even a little bit.” There’s a panoply of women’s clothing, just as there’s myriad flowers.
“Yeah. I think this is better. Suits you even more.”
She braces herself for mocking laughter. He’s certainly smiling, and that’s always a sharp thing. But Chizuru also spies some kindness. Maybe even sincerity. That, more than anything else, is why she blushes. Since she’s free from makeup, he must see it. She takes a seat at a nearby table, mostly to have something to do. He joins her there.
“I still can’t believe how easily you saw through my disguise. How did you do that?” He must have told her, but that night is a blur.
“Probably because I know you. I’m sure you’d recognize me if they trussed me up in a kimono and painted my face.”
“Ah.” She probably should be insulted, but mostly she’s entertained by that mental image. “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t say I didn’t seem like a geisha.” Chizuru has sighed more than a few times over Kimigiku’s seemingly endless reservoirs of grace.
“I mean, you don’t, but that’s not necessarily an insult. They train all their life for that. You weren’t quite the same as them even if no one else was noticing it.”
“People generally don’t look at me.” It sounds bitter, much more than Chizuru intended. Shiranui watches her for a long moment.
“So what brings you here?” For some reason he’s the first to ask that, not her.
“I think the same as you. I enjoy Sen’s company.”
“Looks like you enjoy books, too.”
He takes it from her hand before she realizes what’s happening. Shiranui had probably been expecting something frivolous. Instead, his grin fades when he sees the name of the book, and finds the spot she had been reading. Ancient spells to ward off demons that intend harm. Chizuru reddens, and this time it’s from frustration. She’d been intended to wring at least a little information from him, and instead he would report this back to Kazama.
“Do you have anything useful for me?” She tries to interrupt whatever he’s thinking. She also tries to sound nonchalant. Friendly, casual, but not terribly pleasant. Like Harada, the rare times she’s heard him question someone the Shinsengumi had detained. Shiranui has always responded well to Harada.
Shiranui’s laughter is a barking thing. “That night in the Sumi was weird and won't be repeated. Forget that it happened.”
“I can’t.” For so many reasons.
His eyes flick down to the book again, and then he hands it to her.
“Well, I’m happy to see you finally taking an interest in what you can do. And I can’t blame you,” he says, surprising her. “Most demon women have the benefit of a large extended clan to protect them. If you want to marry them, you have to go through all kinds of negotiations and plans. You have to prove yourself worthy. Kazama knows you don’t have that, and he’s taking advantage. That’s wrong.”
“No, that’s not why it’s wrong.” Chizuru clenches her hands into fists, knowing it’s at odds with her gentle outfit and styling. And she says what she’s needed to say to him- to any of them- for years. “It’s wrong because I don’t want him.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s true.” He says that so quickly that Chizuru is taken aback. Wonders if he’s also been pondering these matters for months and months. It’s just as startling when he looks down, like he can’t bring himself to look at her.
It allows her to openly regard his features. It allows her to remember that he’s not someone she’ll see every day.
Chizuru murmurs Shiranui’s name. She doesn’t allow herself to second-guess. She takes the leap, surging forth to press her lips to his.
He pulls back, just as quick. “What the hell?”
“Now you have good reason not to tell Kazama about us encountering each other here.” It sounds believable, even if her voice trembles a little.
“Yukimura Chizuru.” He sighs it out, like her name is an exclamation all on its own. “You’re such a mystery. And that was hardly a kiss. It’s not worth hiding because it barely happened.”
“Then show me a kiss that would be worth hiding,” Chizuru says, like someone else had taken control of her vocal cords.
After a few heartbeats he does. The position is awkward because they’re still seated on the floor, but they manage. His arms wrap around her, and she can’t figure out where to place her own hands without encountering his bare arms. Then she stops trying. Because he looks beautiful, and now she knows he feels beautiful too.
This time the kiss is slow, lingering, until she forgets about what she should be doing with her limbs. The sun continues its trip over the horizon. The room cools, but Chizuru is overly warm. She revels in the gentle touch of his hands against her body. Each frantic beat of her heart seems to whisper this is mine, no one can take this from me.
And then she hears Sen coming near. It’s probably a good thing, but Chizuru mourns a little when she carefully pulls away. The three of them make small talk. Sen must notice something, but she doesn’t point it out.
“Well, I should be going,” Shiranui says after a few interminable minutes of this. “I hope to randomly encounter you here again, Yukimura.”
Sen has to interject. “Oh, no, if that’s a threat I won’t have it.”
“It’s okay,” Chizuru says. And it is. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”