WHISPERS OF A BUTTERFLY • Kamisato Ayato

one. 一

In terms of fashion, twelve layers of fine silk for a single kimono was the pinnacle of Inazuman wealth. Layers of expensive cloth rested in your closet and often waited for your chambermaids to smoothen onto your skin. It was heavy, perhaps not in literal weight, but rather in the meaning that they carried. You reserved such constriction only for matters of great consequence, like a political cause or an unfortunate occurrence.

When the messenger returned holding a letter that smelled like the damp air of Chinjiu Forest, your family was ecstatic. Nearly everyone in the Kanjou Commission deluded themselves into thinking that the crimes were pardoned by the Shogun herself. The only fissure in their daydream was you.

A single letter should have been easy to be discreet with. Twelve layers — surely, thin parchment would be well-hidden in at least one. Yet, you hadn't anticipated the Yashiro Commission to send two identical letters. Your eye twitched when you found out. No doubt that annoying head of theirs had been the one to instigate such a clever move. He knew you too well.

When you risked a glance out the window, you saw that the entire faction had been put to work to make Ritou shine for your visitor. All for you. Bad sign. It reminded you how much this union meant for your family. You couldn't bear to break their hearts — not that you had the choice either way.

When you turned the corner, you ran into Chisato. When she realized it was you passing, long kimono sleeves flowing behind you, she tensed up. A sliver of your composure crumbled and your brows began to laden with a frown.

You wanted to be angry at her. You never told the family how Chisato betrayed them by helping the Traveler escape Ritou. And for what? A love letter delivery for some commoner in the city? Her actions had a price and you were the unjust payment. Had she just kept her trap shut, you wouldn't be in this position right now, getting married off to a stranger. But you had seen how her eyes glimmered when she talked about her lover, and it was a happiness as true as your word to keep her honor.

Better her than you.

"F/N," she said. Conflict splayed across her face, and after a moment's hesitation, she fumbled for something in her bag and held it out. "Take my fan, will you? I think you might need it. It's a tradition for you to hold one."

In her hands was a fine shensu that was embroidered with beads in the shape of a flower. You were reluctant to receive it. Shensus were a thing of old memories, when you were young and naive for reasons you didn't want to talk about. Nevertheless, you indulged your cousin and took it from her hands to hold it above your heart.

Chisato held her hands to her chest and bowed her head, quietly sighing in relief that you weren't rejecting her. "You're a blessing," she said. "I–I wish you the best of luck when you meet your husband."

You knew she was being sincere, and she was trying to make this up to you, but her words seemed as flowery as her embroidered fan. You thanked her courteously and excused yourself.

When your parents told you that you'd be wedded off to some man, you had no complaints, the obedient child that you were. You'd always known that your marriage would be this way. It was practically what you were raised for, as you were second in line to Chisato and therefore had no real value unless she stepped down. But that had never happened, because you pretended not to know how the Traveler pulled off his Ritou escape plan.

It was either marriage or disgracing your only cousin to usurp her seat in the family. Somehow the marriage part seemed much more viable. If trading yourself meant restoring honor to them, then it was a small price to pay.

Your mother approached and wrung your hand in hers. "My one and only F/N," she whispered. "My dearest child. I'm so happy for you. This match will be perfect."