Chapter 70: Reluctant Hearts
The courtyard hummed with a different kind of energy today. The usual grind of training was punctuated by bursts of laughter and excited chatter about the upcoming party. It was a rare night of sanctioned levity, a chance to forget the scent of blood and demon for a few hours.
Anne leaned against a sun-warmed stone wall, one knee pulled up, observing the buzz. Her eyes, however, kept drifting away from the crowd, drawn to the solitary figure of Giyu Tomioka. He stood as still as a monument near the water basin, his mismatched haori a stark banner of silence amidst the noise. He hadn’t looked at her once since their encounter with Kaito yesterday, and the memory of his cold, clipped tone—Ask her—still stung.
A different, more volatile energy shifted to her left. Sanemi Shinazugawa was propped against a pillar, his arms crossed tightly over his scarred chest. His white-haired head was tilted back, but his sharp violet eyes were narrowed, tracking the movements of the younger slayers with open contempt. Every mention of music, or dancing, or who was bringing what, seemed to make the muscle in his jaw tick faster.
They were a triangle of unspoken tension, and Anne was the apex.
She pushed off the wall, deciding to break the stalemate herself. Her socks whispered against the smooth stones as she walked toward Giyu, her smile easy and inviting. “Sounds like it’s going to be a pretty wild night,” she said, stopping beside him. “I heard they’re even stringing up lanterns.”
He didn’t turn, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls. “Parties are a distraction,” he stated, his voice flat. “They serve no practical purpose.”
“Practical purpose?” She laughed, a light, teasing sound. “It’s called fun, Tomioka. You should try it sometime.” She let the pause hang between them, a perfect, open doorway. “I bet it’s more interesting with good company.”
He just grunted, a non-committal sound that was somehow more frustrating than a outright refusal. The doorway remained firmly shut.
Later, she ‘accidentally’ crossed paths with him near the armory, where the noise from the party preparations was loudest. “They need help carrying the sake barrels,” she mentioned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Seems like a two-person job. Strong, capable people, you know?”
He glanced at her then, and for a fleeting second, she thought she saw something flicker in his dark blue eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came. “I have forms to practice,” he said, and walked away.
Her smile finally wavered. She turned her attention to the other point of the triangle.
Sanemi was easier to find, a storm cloud of discontent simmering in the shade. “You going to stand here and sulk all night,” she asked, leaning against his pillar, “or are you actually going to show up?”
He scowled down at her. “Why would I waste my time listening to that noise?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged, her off-shoulder top slipping a little. “To dance? To drink? To maybe not be a grumpy bastard for five minutes?” She nudged his boot with her own. “It’d be more fun if I had a partner in crime. Someone to scare the new recruits with.”
He barked a short, harsh laugh. “You think I’d be a good date?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
“I think you’d be an interesting one,” she shot back, her eyes challenging him. It was as clear an invitation as she was going to give.
He just shook his head, looking away. “Not my scene.”
The sun dipped below the compound walls, stretching the shadows long and blue. Anne watched as the lanterns were lit, their warm golden light pushing back the evening gloom. She had positioned herself, smiled, hinted, and outright challenged. She had given Giyu every opportunity to step out of his own shadow, and Sanemi a chance to be something other than angry.
Neither of them had taken it.
A mild, simmering annoyance settled in her chest. It wasn’t heartbreak; it was frustration. They were both so stubbornly, stupidly locked inside their own heads. Fine.
She walked back to her room, the sounds of gathering laughter following her. She changed into a fresh, soft skirt and a clean top, the fabric soothing against her skin. She looked at her reflection in the small, warped mirror, at the confident set of her shoulders and the determined glint in her brown eyes.
She didn’t need a brooding Water Hashira or a feral Wind Pillar to have a good time. The music was starting, a lively, rhythmic beat that pulsed through the stones. Anne Kinomoto smiled at herself, turned, and walked out the door alone, her head high, ready to claim the night for herself.
The lively beat of the taiko drums pulsed through the courtyard, a vibrant heart pumping energy into the night. Anne followed the sound, the determined click of her boots on the stone path a counter-rhythm to the music. She wove through groups of laughing slayers, her neutral-toned skirt swishing around her knees, a solitary figure moving with purpose through the celebratory crowd.
“Going in alone?” a calm voice inquired from her side.
Kaito fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark hakama. He offered a small, easy smile, his golden eyes reflecting the lantern light. “It seems a shame for such a night,” he added, his tone light and conversational.
“Someone has to represent the royal guard’s dignity,” Anne replied, though a genuine smile touched her lips at his presence. The frustration she’d felt with Giyu and Sanemi began to loosen its grip.
“I was about to head in myself and find the most boring corner to occupy,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But it occurred to me that might be a waste of good lanterns. Would you care to be my date? Purely platonic, of course. I don’t wish to overstep.”
The straightforward question was a gust of clean air after the stifling, unspoken games of the afternoon. Here was a choice, clearly presented, with no hidden tests or brooding silence. “You know what? That sounds perfect,” Anne said, her smile widening. “A breath of fresh air.”
She looped her arm through his offered one without a second thought. Together, they entered the main party area, a transformed space glowing with paper lanterns and alive with movement. They moved through the crowd with an innate, shared grace, their postures straight and their turns synchronized as if they’d rehearsed them.
They looked like a matched set. His quiet, observant demeanor complemented her warm, playful energy, their similar backgrounds creating an invisible thread of understanding between them. When he leaned in to comment on the traditional structure of a folk dance, his head close to hers, they appeared completely absorbed in their own world.
From the deep shadows of a walkway, Giyu watched them. The sight was a physical ache behind his ribs. He saw the easy way Kaito’s shoulder brushed hers, the way she laughed at something he said, a sound that carried over the music and twisted in Giyu’s gut. He had built his own prison of silence and now he was forced to watch from its confines, the sharp tang of regret coating his tongue.
He remembered the cold finality in his own voice when he’d told Kaito to ask her. He had handed this moment to him. His hand tightened around the railing, the wood groaning in protest under his grip.
Later, as Anne excused herself to get a drink, a large, scarred hand clamped down on her arm. She turned to find Sanemi looming over her, his violet eyes blazing with a familiar, heated intensity. The open collar of his kimono revealed the tense cords of his neck.
“You went with him?” Sanemi’s voice was a low, rough scrape. He gestured vaguely toward where Kaito stood. “You couldn’t have made it any more obvious you were waiting for an invitation?”
Anne stared at him, her brown eyes wide with sheer disbelief. Then a giggle escaped her, bubbling up from a place of pure exasperation. She pulled her arm free, placing her hands on her hips.
“Sanemi,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper laced with laughter. “I literally told you it would be more fun with a partner. I nudged you. I called you a grumpy bastard to your face.” She shook her head, her long hair swaying. “I couldn’t have been more obvious if I’d painted a sign on my forehead!”
He blinked, the anger on his face faltering for a second, replaced by a flicker of confused recalculation. The music swelled around them, and Anne just smiled, turning to lose herself once more in the rhythm of the night, leaving the Wind Hashira standing alone in the swirling crowd, finally understanding the opportunity he had let blow right past him.
The music pulsed against Anne's skin like a second heartbeat as she wove back through the crowd, the scent of roasting chestnuts and spilled sake thick in the air. Kaito waited where she'd left him, watching the dancers with that quiet, observant stillness that made him seem carved from moonlight and shadow.
"Did Shinazugawa finally swallow his pride and ask what he really wanted to?" he asked as she approached, offering her a cup of warm amazake.
Anne snorted, accepting it. "No. Just yelled at me for having the audacity to enjoy myself with someone else." She took a sip, the sweet rice wine coating her tongue. "Honestly, I don’t know why I bother."
Kaito chuckled, low and warm. "Because you’re kind, even to men who don’t deserve it." He hesitated, then nodded toward the dancers. "Come on. No point letting his bad mood ruin the night."
She hesitated only a second before draining her cup and letting him lead her into the fray.
The rhythm of the taiko drums thrummed through her bones as they fell into step together, Kaito’s movements precise and measured, hers more fluid, playful. He spun her once, his hand firm at her waist, and she laughed, breathless, as the lantern light blurred gold above them.
"You’re good at this," she admitted as the song slowed, their steps naturally adjusting.
He smirked. "Royal guard training includes more than just swords." His fingers brushed the small of her back, guiding her into the next turn. "Though I admit, this is better with the right partner."
She arched a brow. "Should I be flattered?"
"Probably." His gaze flicked over her face, lingering just a second too long before he added, quieter, "I won’t lie—you intrigue me, Princess. More than most."
Anne’s pulse hitched, but she kept her tone light, teasing. "Careful. That almost sounds like a confession."
Kaito hummed, unbothered. "Would it matter if it was?"
She didn’t answer right away. The music swelled around them, the world narrowing to the space between their bodies, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her top.
"You know what I am," she said finally, softer. "Who I am."
He nodded. "And I know better than to think that changes anything." His thumb traced a slow, absent arc against her hip. "But a man can admire a princess from a respectful distance, can’t he?"
Anne laughed, shaking her head. "Everyone loves a princess," she teased, deflecting the weight of the moment—but she didn’t pull away.
Across the courtyard, unnoticed by either of them, Giyu stood frozen in the shadows, his knuckles white around the railing. The sight of Kaito’s hand on her waist, the easy intimacy of their laughter, carved something hollow and aching beneath his ribs.
He turned and vanished into the dark.
Sanemi, still scowling near the sake barrels, watched him go. Then, with a muttered curse, he slammed back his drink and stalked after him.