WHISPERS OF A BUTTERFLY • Kamisato Ayato

seven. 七

The transformation of the Kamisato Estate took mild adjustment to. Adding the weight of the thick kimono the seamstresses insisted you wore for public appearances made them almost unbearable, especially when the crest of the Kamisato clan was expertly sewn at the hem of the ribbon that cinched your waist.

You were painting calligraphy scrolls in the courtyard when the door behind you slid open. You stiffened immediately when you heard the familiar sound of weighted shoes walking on the polished floor. You set your wet paintbrush down on the marble saucer, the inky letters still damp lines on the parchment you'd been presented. It was your hobby, among the many noble and elegant arts that your aristocratic education had bestowed upon you.

You had meant to show it to Ayaka, who was no addle-brained dimwit and would actually have the romantic heart to appreciate your craftsmanship.

Now, you were left to remember how Ayato used to paint with you even though he was awful at it.

"Oh, you still like to do calligraphy."

"It's not as if the world stopped when you threw yourself out of my life, Lord Kamisato," you deadpanned. "Don't be arrogant, unlike you I actually have hobbies."

"Unlike you, I actually have a real job that takes up my time. I don't waste away the days by waiting for someone to tell me what to do."

"Oh, trust me," you said, lifting your eyes to glare at him. His arms were crossed, and he didn't seem the slightest bit offended. He was only just spewing things to make a reaction out of you and it was working. You did not want to award him such a stupid and idiotic satisfaction. "If I were a commissioner, I'd do my job too. But alas, I am unlucky enough to be born later than Chisato and thus I suffer a fate worse than filing boring paperwork, which is having to spend the rest of my life with you."

Ayato gestured for you to stand beside him at the window. Reluctantly, you stood, slightly miffed at his rudeness for not offering his hand and making you stand as though you were a commoner, but you obeyed as you stood at your fiancé's side. He seemed pleased, even if you were scowling.

"Loosen up a little, you look like you've stepped in something foul."

"You're absolutely right, My Lord," you said. "I've stepped into your presence."

"Your Grace, I assure you, a bit of socializing never hurts. Surely you've done more than catty crowing in your nest back in Ritou."

"Forgive me, my lord, but if you have forgotten, Ritou is a rather minor city," you said. "Not much room for socializing when I can hardly understand a word those outlanders speak with their twangy dictation."

"Oh? Then how does the young Kanjou spend her days? You've little responsibilities being the younger one, after all."

"The best I can say is that I am rather clever when it comes to tying knots."

"'Tying knots?'" He raised his eyebrows. "My, now that is news to me."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Lord Kamisato," you said flatly. "Good to know your old wit is back."

"Why, has it been ever lost?"

"Now that I think about it, perhaps it was never there at all."

Ayato looked hardly affected by the jest. His face was tipped to the sun and basking in its warmth. A brief flicker of weakness had you imagining the opposite — if his face were in the hot darkness, glazed over you. For a disconcerting moment, you felt a stab of something inside.

You gave your head a little shake. You wanted that word out of your conscience. It seemed as though your mother had been sending you subliminal instructions.