与えられた機会

An aberration in the routine she settled into since arriving at Ukabarenairei found her balancing precariously on a slippery stone by a fresh water stream that gurgled past her, farther into the distance on either side of her than she could see with her human sight. Pai found the every-day routine soothing to the nerves that kept her on her toes, uneasy whenever she was alone with Shin – usually when she was treating some wound infused with the same poison from that first day when Kagetora stabbed him – or if she found herself wandering the house with nothing to do.

She woke up every morning at exactly six o'clock. She went with Shin to where he trained in the clearing with Kagetora in the morning. After that she returned to the house and helped Onoe with random chores; sweeping the floors, doing hers and Shin's laundry, and cooking meals for Onoe and herself, and Seiran whenever he showed up (she could count on one hand how many times he had), then Shin when he came back. Seiran never stayed in her presence for very long, as if he took Shin's warning more serious than anything else. He never talked to her, either, just came, ate the food like nobody's business, and left. It was a surprising contrast to the flirtatious playboy in school.

She didn't have a clue why, but Kagetora insisted that she be there to watch as the two men sparred in a warm-up session to the real fight that always ended with Kagetora's victory – a point that was a source of endless frustration to Shin. They sparred with Shin's Mask on, but when the fight was about to really begin Kagetora sent her away. She assumed it was because Shin came dangerously closer to losing control of Shinigami every single day.

Pai wondered what Kagetora would do then, when it wasn't Shin he fought with anymore, but Shinigami. The murderous, enraged Makashi that lived in the man he'd promised to train to live without the Mask that kept Shinigami bound and imprisoned. Would Kagetora be quite so proud, so daring, when faced with something like that?

Onoe had gone to Mikurajima that day to get a fresh supply of groceries, and he still wasn't back yet. The sun was high up in the sky, though it only meekly filtered through the shelter of tree branches hanging overhead, blocking most of the light and sky out. She lifted her hand and eyed the time worryingly – it was already gone past three o'clock. She worried if Onoe would make it back in time to make dinner, and hoped that he was all right on his own. He was so young, and he looked like such a timid boy.

But then again, he was also Kitsune. That was the only reason she hadn't gone with him to the closest populated island, despite her worry. He was Kitsune, which meant that even if he looked like an ordinary boy, albeit easy to push around, he was still stronger than any human child his age. If a Hengen was as strong as ten ordinary men, a child Hengen would easily match the strength of a fully grown man.

Shin usually came back to the house at five in the evening, and she wanted to be there to meet him. She couldn't say why that was so. After Shiori's call two days ago, she convinced herself to start avoiding Shin, so that the strange stirring that rattled her so wouldn't grow in strength. But why did she always want to be there when he came back from Kagetora's gruelling training regime?

Maybe it was because she got to take care of him, rather than the other way round it had been for so long already. He had done so much for her, and she figured that this was her only way of paying him back for it. Especially considering that despite Shiori's objection, it really was her fault that they were in this predicament in the first place.

Pai watched a silver fish twist and turn as it shot down the stream with the flow of the water, unable to fight against the current. Its scales rippled in the gentle sunlight, flashing brilliantly for mere instants before disappearing just as fast. She wondered what it was feeling, to be caught in a current it couldn't fight against, no matter how much it tried.

She wondered if she was insane for thinking that about something so mundane.

She moved the bucket she was using to collect water to the side so that the fish didn't get caught in it, and followed its little body squirm as it continued to wrestle against the water's current. Once the bucket was full, she took a deep breath and hoisted it out of the water. She stood and set it carefully aside, propped against a big rock slick with the spray of the stream's water on its face. Then she took hold of the second bucket and turned, but as she did, her zori sandal slipped on the wet stone she stood on.

She yelped in surprise, starting to fall before she could stop it. She threw out her hand and barely managed to catch herself on a large rock close by. Her palms scratched against its rough surface, and she bumped her knee against yet another, smaller, stone. White hot pain lanced through her leg, and she inhaled sharply, fighting to hold in the yelp building up in her chest.

Her breath hissed out between her clenched teeth as she moved her hand from the stone, glowering at the pink flesh slowly darkening to red. She flexed her fingers, wincing as she pulled at the sensitive skin. No blood leaked out of the hairline cuts, but it still hurt.

Goddamn thing, she cursed silently.

She stood slower than before, flinching at the burst of fiery pain in her injured knee. Glancing down, she saw that though her homongi was dirtied around her knees with wet soil clinging to the fabric, no blood leaked through. She would take small mercies where she could. She grimaced as she straightened her leg out before bending it, repeating the move several times until she got used to the pain. She would put some ointment on it later, after she helped Shin when he came back.

Does it hurt?

What do you think, she answered monotonously. I'm still human.

Not for long, Kuniumi cackled.

She froze as she bent her knee for a third time, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, trying to discern any meaning behind Kuniumi's madness. What do you mean by that?

That would be telling, wouldn't it? Besides, what's the point. Pai could feel her pouting, a boredom seeping into her bones that she knew was coming from Kuniumi. You will find out anyway. Soon enough. Soon can mean much, can't it? Much and little.

"Why do you do that?" she asked aloud, exhausted by Kuniumi's evasive antics. "Why do you always tease me with something you know but you never tell me what it is? Is it fun? Does toying with me make you enjoy your time while you ruin my life?"

Come now, Pai, she taunted coquettishly. Are you really going to blame us for your faults?

"My faults?" she snapped. "How about you think on the fact that I don't have the privacy of my own fucking head, to think about things without some infuriating crazy woman whispering riddles and singing and laughing in my head all the time? Why don't you – "

She cut herself off when Kuniumi's presence suddenly vanished.

"Damn woman," she cursed under her breath.

Her lips twitched in furious irritation as she shook her head roughly and forced her attention back to the task at hand. She knelt slowly on her rock again, holding on to the bucket as if it could save her if she slipped again. She pushed it into the water, letting its wooden surface scratch against the little stones and pebbles at the bottom of the stream. The sleeves of her homongi were getting wet, but she didn't particularly care. It would dry eventually.

The bucket filled quickly, and she stood with it gripped in one hand. Moving as carefully as she could she reached down and picked up the second bucket, using the two as equal weights held out on either side. Her knee proved to be cumbersome as she picked her way between the rocks, wisely choosing to walk on the damp soil and grass than risk falling again by stepping on the slipper stones. It hurt like fire every time she bent it, and her palm stung bitingly as she clenched it around the bucket handles.

She ignored the pulsing pain and made her way back to the house. Her mind was far more preoccupied with practisal thoughts, thoughts she clung to desperately to keep from sinking deep into the dark hole growing bigger and bigger inside of her, threatening to swallow her whole from the inside out.

×

The unexpected knock at the door had Pai spinning around in surprise. Onoe never knocked when he came into the kitchen – until she had come along with the knowledge of more dishes he could help prepare, he'd been the sole ruler of that domain. When she saw who stood there, her mouth fell open in shock.

"Shin-san?" she squeaked.

He stood with a short towel slung across his shoulders, dark hair wet and shimmering with drops of water. He wore a short-sleeved grey t-shirt and black slacks, and water still clung to his eyelashes as he tried blinking them away. Giving up, he scrubbed the end of the towel over his face to get rid of them. When that was done he gripped the ends of the towel hanging over his shoulders in each hand, his eyes roving over her entire body as if he was searching for something.

He nodded at her in greeting. "Hey. Is there any water?"

She turned around; gulping nervously as she searched for one of the overturned glasses she just finished washing. She kept her eyes averted to the ground as she walked over to the dispenser on the other side of the kitchen, bending slightly to fit the glass under the tap. The bottle was filled with water she'd poured into it from the two buckets she'd fetched earlier.

As she filled the glass up, she said, "You are lucky. I just went to the stream to get some."

Once the glass was full of warm water, she turned around and walked to him, holding it out for him to take. She kept her gaze fixed firmly to the floor, letting of the glass as soon as she felt him take it.

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

She nodded, twirled around quickly, and went back to the sink, spinning the tap open again. Water streamed out in high pressure, and she quickly reduced it so that it wouldn't splash all over her clothes. Wouldn't that be hilarious, if she drenched herself in front of Shin, as if she was an idiot pretending to know her way around the kitchen. She blocked the sink and let the water build up until it was half-full, then took the cloth she'd used to wipe the dishes and let it flutter into the water.

As aware of his every move as she'd ever been, she felt Shin coming up behind her. Her breath caught in her chest as she watched him from the corner of her eye. He turned and leaned his hip back on the counter-top, observing her as she washed the cloth. Her movements turned jerky the longer he watched her in complete silence, and her heart seemed to skip every other beat.

I must look like a robotic fool, she thought despairingly.

Licking her dry lips, she said, "You are back early today."

Poor attempt as it was, she at least tried for normal conversation. That counted for something, didn't it?

He grunted in affirmation. "He let me go earlier than usual."

"Oh."

What else could she say? Why did she have to feel so awkward and ill at ease with him? Where had all the relaxed comfort she'd had with him before go? But she had an excuse to be like this, didn't she. This was the first time they were alone, truly alone, since she'd gone behind his back and enlisted Kagetora's help since they'd gotten to this place because of her perfidy.

"Did – did he say why?" she asked.

"Blood."

Say what now?

Pai frowned, trying not to let her mind get dragged into the grey depths of the pictures of blood on her hands as she clenched them around ugly black guns, pictures of crimson roses flowering on the pale foreheads of people she shot at point blank range because she was told to.

She slowed in scrubbing non-existent dirt from the cloth and glanced up at him. "Blood?"

"Your leg. It's bleeding."

"What?" she looked down at her leg, but she didn't see anything.

Frowning, she reached down with her hand wet and covered in soap buds, and pulled up the side of her homongi just a little. Her eyes widened when she saw a drying line of red down the side of her leg, soaking the top of her pale blue socks. Surprise and concern had her reaching down with both hands, and she lifted her dress right up to her knee, wincing from an unexpected flare of pain when she moved her knee.

"Ow," she murmured, nose crinkling at the unseemly sight. "I slipped when I went to get water. I didn't think it would be this bad."

She hadn't thought that her fall earlier resulted in any injury. She'd thought that she would find only a bruise there when she changed for the night later on. Instead, the side of her knee was skinned. The outer layer of her skin looked like it had actually been burned, and red colouring painted the inside of the wound, coalescing into the line of blood that streamed down the side of her leg.

"But my clothes didn't tear...?" she asked curiously, straightening and letting the homongi fall back over her knee. She looked up at Shin to find him watching her with a dark look in his eye, one she couldn't interpret.

"It's a friction burn," he answered after a brief moment, utterly sure of it. He turned, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come on."

Another frown flickered on her brow, but she nodded hesitantly. "O – okay."

She had no idea what she was doing going after him, especially when she'd decided to do her best to avoid him. This was going completely against that very firm decision, even though she wondered just how resolute it was when it could waver so easily now. She cursed herself for allowing her will to falter like this as she followed him down the hall, turning left once before coming to a stop at one of the rooms. She recognized the hallway, and the door next to it, as their bedrooms.

Shin slid the door open, walking inside and going to the closet, the door already opened. She followed in more slowly, her feet pattering quietly on the tatami mats as she walked to stand a few feet to his right as he dug around in his bag in the closet.

His room was more or less the exact same as hers, right down to the bed not being a futon – something she was surprised to discover, considering almost everything else about the house looked like it was plucked out of the Meiji era. The only difference was that his bed was pushed against the wall, off to the left of the window. Hers was set right under it.

She leaned forward slightly, remaining right where she stood as she tried to see what it was he was doing. "What are you looking for?"

"This," he said, pulling out of the closet. In his hands was a red bag – it was a first-aid kit. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as he motioned for her to sit on the perfectly-made bedding of his futon. "Kanou-san packed it in. He probably knew I'd 1forget to."

"I can – " she cleared her throat when her voice came out strangled. "I can do it myself. You do not need to."

He gave her a cool look, though a small, knowing smirk tipped the corner of his lips up. "You've taken care of me so much since we got here. Let me return the favour."

"You do not need to," she repeated futilely.

The smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Would it help if I said I want to?"

She barely heard him. She couldn't tear herself away from staring.

It had been so long, so long since she'd seen him come even remotely close to smiling like that. Now, of all places, of all situations, now was when he did. After seeing the ferocious, almost animalistic expression on his face when he fought Kagetora, that look of betrayal when she'd told him about what she'd done when she promised him she wouldn't, it was jarring to see him smile like that. Normally. The way he used to.

Rousing herself from her gawping, she awkwardly nodded and went to sit just on the edge of his bed. He followed close behind, and knelt down in front of her. It felt weird, unusual, to be in this position – her, above him, and Shin, kneeling before her. It was so like her first day at school, when he'd caught her trying to hide the shaking of her hands and the scratches she'd gotten on her palms when she fell in P.E. because of Yamajijii. Thinking about that day, it seemed so long ago. It could have happened centuries ago, yet it had only been three – four – months.

Four months...so much has happened since then.

More than she could put into words, more than she could simply sum up into a neat little paragraph if someone were to ask for her life's story.

She tried, but she couldn't stop staring at the top of his ruffled dark head as he unzipped the first-aid kit and put it on the bed beside her. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch his hair, to see if it was as soft as it looked, but a stronger part of her argued rationale, and she didn't.

He nodded at her dress, and the movement finally stirred her from her daze. "May I?"

Ooh, Kuniumi buzzed appreciatively. What a perfect gentlemen. What a wild card he is on the inside.

Unable to speak around the melon-sized ball of cotton lodged in her throat, she nodded. Her heart stuttered in her chest when Shin reached out and gripped her foot as he pulled her leg out, stretching it and setting her foot on his knee. He did it all so gently, inch by inch; it was as if he thought she'd splinter into pieces if he moved too fast. She was intensely glad that she had her socks on. She didn't know if she wouldn't burst into a ball of flames for how close he was.

Almost like he was doing it because he knew how she was reacting, like he was doing it to tease her, he pushed the hem of her homongi slowly up her leg. Her heart had given up on beating normally – now its pulses were like literal punches in her chest. She didn't realize that she'd stopped breathing until Shin set the edge of her dress on her knee. She automatically took hold of it so that it wouldn't fall back over her leg.

He reached out and, with feather-light fingers, touched the unbroken skin around the bleeding burn, his eyes narrowing as he inspected it carefully. She licked her lips as her eyes darted away from watching him so intently, down to the friction burn on the side of her knee.

"I'm going to put antiseptic on it," he looked up at her with an apologetic crinkle in his eye. "It'll burn."

"It already burns." She said with a small smile. "It is fine. Just do it."

He nodded, reaching out with a long, leanly muscled arm for a white spray-bottle peeking out from just beneath a roll of gauze. He shook the bottle for a second, aimed the nozzle at her wound, and pressed down on the top. She flinched at the cold pain that blasted the wound, her hand clenching around the fabric of her homongi. Her nails dug in to her palms, and it was a preferable pain to the frigid one sending waves of icy chills up her leg.

Unexpectedly, a breath of cool air swept over her heart, cooling it down, settling her nerves. The pain in her knee didn't seem to reach her anymore, as if her nerves had suddenly stopped working. It wasn't her emotions dying, but rather, calming. She frowned, recognizing the tell-tale scent of vanilla only she seemed able to smell.

What did you do?

We promised you we wouldn't let you hurt.

Kuniumi, she said bluntly. It's antiseptic. On an open wound. Of course it's going to hurt.

We promised. She pouted, consternated by Pai's lack of gratitude.

She struggled not to sigh out loud. Sometimes Kuniumi was wise. Sometimes crazy. Sometimes sad, grieving over something and someone she wouldn't – couldn't – name. Sometimes, like now, she acted like a temperamental, stubborn child. Pai had no idea how to deal with her most of the time.

Shin kept the nozzle spraying at her knee for two seconds longer and then stopped. He set the antiseptic spray on the floor and bent to her leg, looking at her wound far more closely than she was comfortable with. Still, she managed to stop from shifting away and held herself as still as a statue as she fought to keep her mind on the pain of her nails digging crevices into her palms rather than the one in her leg.

She had no idea what it was that possessed her to speak. She would have preferred – had planned – to have as little spoken contact with him as possible. What was she doing?

"I am sorry you have to do this, especially after you just finished training."

He shook his head, and she thought she spied yet another smile playing about his lips. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"You are not...you are not hurt today?" she asked, finding no other diplomatic way to phrase it.

Another shake of the head. "He went easy on me today. No cuts, no poison."

He finally looked up at her, cobalt blue eyes flashing with something that wasn't anger, exactly, but it certainly wasn't something he was pleased about. She thought it might be frustration that he wasn't getting any closer to defeating Kagetora in their daily duels. But by now he knew that to do so meant he'd need to use Shinigami, to let him fight free. As far as she could tell, Shin still maintained his iron grip on his Makashi with the same tenacity Kuniumi had when clinging to her secrets, like a child possessively guarding her toys.

She tried to give him a reassuring smile, hoping it didn't slip, hoping it didn't look strange on her face. "Do not worry. You will get it. People say that Rome was not built in a day, remember?"

He grunted unconvincingly, as if he wasn't quite so sure of the fact as she was. He picked up the kit and rifled through it, frowning as she did so. With a sigh, he picked out an unnecessarily large bandage with a cartoon purple butterfly drawn on it, and held it up. "There aren't any smaller ones. Is this okay?"

She nodded. "It is better than nothing."

Before putting the bandage on, he uncapped a bottle of iodine from the kit and soaked a small ball of cotton wool with it. Then he carefully pressed it against her wound. Even though she wanted to yelp from the pain that was far worse than that of the antiseptic, she stoically remained silent, pressing her lips together so tight they turned white. Once he was done with that, he peeled open the bandage and laid it over the wound, pressing his palm against all corners of it to make sure it stayed put and didn't peel off.

"There," he said in satisfaction, leaning back to inspect his neat handiwork. "All done."

This time, the smile she gave him felt a little more natural. "Thank you, Shin-san," she said gratefully.

She straightened her leg out in front of her, smiling faintly as she recalled him putting on a bandage on her scratched hands, all that time ago. Everything was so much simpler than, she couldn't help remembering, her smile faltering as she did. Their boundaries were clear. She knew where to tread, where not to step.

Now...now she didn't know where they stood.

Shiori's phone call didn't help matters in the least. Her words only confused Pai all the more, not even because of what she'd said, but more because she couldn't fathom why she reacted the way she had. She didn't understand why her heart weighed so heavy in her chest for days afterward whenever her mind strayed too close to the memory of the phone call, to the words that stung her like a scorpion's tail piercing right through her stomach.

She looked up when Shin stood, shifting to the left as he began packing up what he'd used to treat her wound. "Dinner is not ready. Onoe-san has not come back from Mirukajima yet, he left this morning. He will come soon, though."

"It's fine." He zipped up the first-aid kit, leaving it on top of the bed as he stood in front of her and crossed him arms over his chest, regarding her with a curious look in his eye. "I'm not hungry."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "You are still going to eat. You need to keep up your strength."

He shook his head amusingly. "Aye-aye, m'lady," he answered cockily in English, in a surprisingly good British accent, a joking side to him she hadn't seen enough of before rising up to the surface. "Isn't that what the Americans say?"

She pursed her lips, thinking, trying not to giggle like an idiot. "I think that was pirates in England."

"Huh. Pirates are more fun anyway." He shrugged nonchalantly, and this time she couldn't help laughing. It was like his words, his attitude, the way he was speaking to her, all of it worked together to ease the tight band of dreaded apprehension wringing her neck, stifling her heart.

"They also got hanged more, you know."

"Better a life short-lived and well enjoyed than long and uneventful." He remarked wisely.

Shii-chan would be pissed right about now, she grinned as she said, "Point."

He angled his head, tipping an imaginary hat to her in acceptance of the points there was no real reason for her to randomly give out. Then he straightened, keeping his arms folded over his chest as the bright light of momentary mirth faded from his eyes. He turned serious so quickly, on the flip of some invisible switch. It made her nervous.

"Listen," he started. "I know I've been – for lack of better words, let's just say I know I've been an asshole to you these last days."

"I would not go that far," she hastily put in, unwilling to let him think so low of himself. Besides, it wasn't like he wasn't unwarranted in his foul mood swings after what she'd done.

"Considering you risked your life to save mine, many times already, and this is how I thank you...I have been. Shiori-hime would end my life if she knew," he added with a wry shake of his head. Then he grew sombre again, so frightfully fast. "I really am sorry, and I thank you, really, for everything you're doing for me."

"It is nothing, Shin-san," she mumbled, unable to keep her furious blush from reddening her neck. The problem with this whole little situation was that she had absolutely no idea how to receive thanks from anyone without feeling either like a cold-hearted fish or a babbling fool. "You really do not have to thank me."

Please don't. It's my fault we're in this mess to begin with.

"I do," he answered.

He uncrossed his arms and leaned down, hands on knees as he fixed his cerulean gaze on hers. She found herself held capture by his eyes, noting the way the changed colour. Not the switch to Hengen red, no. His eyes sometimes changed shades.

They were always blue, but that was so bland a word for them. Sometimes his eyes were dark as midnight skies tinged with just enough blue to keep them from looking black. Sometimes, like when the sun hit him just right, they brightened to stark blue crystals. Other times, like now, in normal lighting and with seemingly no dark thoughts or bad moods, his eyes were a bright azure blue, like October skies, that had her breath freezing in her throat, his proximity leaving her no room to shy away, to look away.

So many shades of blue, and equally as many shades of red when he let the part of himself he locked away come close to the surface. She was reminded of being stuck in the Torimaku, with Shinigami, hovering above her, caging her in with his arms, allowing her no chance of escape. Then, she'd felt like she could die in any moment. Now it was a different kind of danger she felt, and not one that necessarily threatened her life.

Her sanity, maybe.

Her heart, more likely.

"Shin-san?" she breathed, failing to keep her voice level and calm.

"I've said this before," he spoke in a slow, measured tone that did wonders to both settle her nerves and send her heart aflutter. "But you should learn how to rely on other people as well. Don't bear all the burden and responsibility on yourself."

She was on fire. She didn't know from what. She couldn't guess at it. She didn't know if it was from Shin's proximity, or from how right he was, or how incredibly, intensely blue his eyes were, or because she didn't like how his words painted her to be. An ice girl, with a cold heart who refused the company and help of anyone around her.

Was that how he saw her? Was that what she was really like, to other people?

"I – " it wasn't that she was like that. Really. She just didn't know how to handle people, what to say and what not to say. "I am not – "

"You are, and the bad thing is, you don't realize it. You don't see that you take everything up on yourself, as if you deserve it." He asserted unerringly.

She couldn't say anything, couldn't tear her eyes from Shin as she struggled to come up with something, some witty retort like Shiori would say, sensible like Mizutani, smart like Yukiji. But there was nothing. She came up empty. Her mind was a blank slate.

She was saved by her name being called out. Her heart stuttered to broken life as she recognized Onoe's voice, her gaze tearing away from Shin's to glance at the door. Onoe was finally back from Mikurajima, and just in the nick of time. She could have hugged him.

She scooted back, moving just enough so that she could zip to the side and out of Shin's reach. He leaned back and turned to follow her with his eyes though he made no move to physically reach out for her. She was glad for that. She didn't know what would happen, what she'd do, if he touched her. The fact that he was the only one who could actually touch her skin without her wanting to slap him away didn't help her resolve in the least.

"I need to go," she said lamely, gesturing back in the vague direction of the kitchen. Her heart pounded like a hammer trying to rip her heart to shreds. "Thank you for treating my wound, Shin-san."

"Hm." He hummed noncommittally with a simple nod. "I'll see you later."

She nodded, a tad bit more eagerly than she would've liked, and spun around to leave. Blessedly, the door was still open. All she had to do was walk out and quickly turn the corner, and she was out of his room.

She shook her head as she dragged in the cold air as deep as her lungs could go, letting its chill touch all parts of her, before exhaling slowly. Her knee smarted a little with pain, but nothing that she couldn't keep working through. After all, she'd already spent much of the day ignoring the pain already.

She turned another corner, safely out of view of Shin's room, and leaned back on the wall. She slapped her hands to her heated cheeks, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to breathe properly around the watermelon in her throat. She let go of her cheeks and tipped her head back against the wall, turning her eyes up despondently to the roof. A solitary Burabura floated around the electric light hanging overhead, poking at it with its arm, a stick of wood.

Her eyes glazed over as she unwillingly remembered every moment she'd spent in Shin's presence, and thought back to Shiori's warning; Hengen couldn't be in a lasting relationship with someone their Makashi didn't accept. But it was already too late.

She shook her head again, lowering it and pressing the heels of her palms into her burning eyes, wishing she could gouge them out so that the waterfall building up inside of her wouldn't hurt so much as it swept her in its torrent.

Shit, she swore, ignoring Kuniumi's triumphant cackle of merriment. Shitting, fucking hell.

It was too late.

She didn't know when it happened, when it began. She didn't know if she had subconsciously realized it at some point and just been denying it all this time. She didn't know if there had ever been a chance to stop it from happening, or if it was inevitable.

Shiori's call of warning came too late, and now she didn't know what she was going to do with herself.

She loved Shin. She was already in love with him.