Welcome back to the new and improved Chapter 4! I haven't changed much of what was uploaded before - maybe some grammar fixes - but there's new content at the end! Woohoo!
This chapter is now hands-down the longest single chapter I've ever posted on FF. You'll notice it's not named for a song; it's getting harder to find songs that fit the plot. Keep looking for references, though! And be warned: language. This fic may hit a ratings change in the upcoming chapters.
The darkness was comforting. There was a sort of velvety… dark… to it this morni– hold it, don't even think the word – and it was quite nice, really. Warm and fluffy, or was that her blanket? It could be both. Perhaps it was both. Either way, whichever it was – the blanket or the darkness – it was quite nice, and in any case lying here and enjoying it was a much better idea than facing the bright green lines of evil over to the left there and realizing…
…That the alarm was going off, Miku finished her thought grimly. It wasn't even an honest alarm, either – it was some vegetable juice jingle, which she could probably sing herself by now. Lying spread-eagled half under and half wrapped in her bedsheets, Miku contemplated for a good minute the relative merits of getting up versus going back to sleep. The former won the day with its compelling argument – namely, that she would get to turn off the vegetable song – and Miku rolled out of bed with a groan.
She gave the clock a decisive smack, which turned the volume up because she hadn't technically speaking hit the snooze button and because it was going to be one of those days. Taking more care and using rather more force the next time, she cut the chorus off in mid-'Po-Pi'. The silence was godly, and Miku looked at the clock to see if she could hazard giving the benefits of sleep more consideration. She could not.
"Take early classes," she mocked herself, crossing the floor to the light switch. "Don't be lazy – get over the stereotype! You can do it," she muttered, blinking as light flooded the room. Pink shone back at her from every direction –the ceiling, the walls, the curtains, the stuffed animals arrayed on the windowsills; even the kitchenette was pink. Miku sniffed, idly digging her toes into the pink shag carpet – rose, she could hear her mother insisting. "Pink," she said scornfully to the floor, daring it or her mother to suggest otherwise.
Miku pulled her pajamas over her head, letting them lay where they fell. The olive-green fleece clashed horrifically with the carpet, and she smiled grimly as she dressed. Was it too cold out for stockings? Probably not; she selected a black pair with trim the same shade as her hair. As she sat down on the floor to pull them on, a shadow crossed in front of her door and the mail slid under the gap. She scurried over to collect it.
"Bill, bill… newspaper," she murmured, setting the paper aside. "Is it really the 27th already? This month just flew by..." The bills she tossed directly into the (pink as a matter of course) trash can; another copy would be sent to her parents anyway, and the copy sent to her was mostly lip service. "Bill…" At the last envelope she paused. This was not a cheap piece of bulk mail; the envelope itself was printed of high-quality paper, a fine parchment, almost. Fighting a sudden sick feeling, Miku glanced at the top-left corner.
The envelope fluttered wildly, falling far short of the trash bin, and Miku hugged her knees to her chest as it fell. "Fuck," she whispered thickly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Slowly, teal fingernails digging creases into her stockings, her hands balled into fists.
Though the carpet absorbed most of the sound of her punching the floor, it did nothing to dampen the scream that accompanied it.
-One Day Later-
"Troublesome," Gakupo murmured once more to himself, flipping his scheduler closed. This ten-page paper on the Thousand Wars Era – freshly assigned – wouldn't take all that long, but it was destined to be intensive work; he could feel it. Still, the class was required for his major in medieval history, so there was really no choice but to do it.
The library would already be open, even this early – before most of the campus had finished breakfast, and certainly before Luka and Ruko were even awake. Turning down the grey cobbles of the history quad's main thoroughfare, Gakupo headed east into the midmorning sun, idly lifting a hand to shade his eyes. Now, if he started with the acquisition campaigns of Lord Yokujin, that would provide a solid starting point for… for… He blinked. Was that…? It couldn't be. And yet it had to be –
"Luka-san?" he called, hurrying to catch up. Sure enough, as he drew nearer, she turned to face him, a curtain of pale pink tracing the movement a second later. Gakupo wasn't sure if the smile she gave him or the sunlight framing it was brighter.
"Gakkun, there you are," Luka said, stepping in to give him a hug. "I was actually about to call you, but I guess I don't have to anymore." She let out a breathless laugh.
Gakupo stared. "Luka-san, do you know what time it is?" he asked. "It's only eight-fifteen. I've never seen you up before ten at the earliest."
Luka shrugged. "I told you I've been getting more sleep," she said, poking Gakupo in the shoulder. "Anyway, what I have to tell you can't wait until English. Come on back to the apartment – this is big." Pulling at Gakupo's hand, she started down the pathway to the university train station. Gakupo pulled up short.
"Luka-san, what's going on?" he asked, looking at her intently. "You are never this energetic, let alone this early. What's going on?"
Luka rolled her eyes, still smiling, and grabbed his hand more firmly. "You'll find out when we get there. Come on! When I said big, I meant really big."
Surrendering to her indomitable cheer, Gakupo let himself be pulled along, not-quite-literally physically. As he walked, something occurred to him, and he came up alongside Luka.
"Luka-san," he said, jogging to keep pace with her, "you suggested we go back to your apartment. That's another ¥800 for both of us. Didn't you recently have trouble with your train pass?"
"That was weeks ago," Luka said, waving a dismissive hand. "Besides, Gakkun," she added, stopping outside the train station, "where we're going –" she winked – "we won't need train passes."
"All I want to know is what I did to deserve being woken up so early so I can avoid doing it next time I get reincarnated," Ruko moaned, her voice somewhat muffled. Luka lifted the kotatsu's skirt curiously and was met with a baleful heterochromatic stare. Dropping the blanket back down, she settled back onto the couch next to Gakupo and turned her attention once more to Miku, who was perched in one of the chairs and looking horribly conflicted.
"…So anyway," Miku said, after a moment. "I know I don't know you all very well, and it may be a bit presumptuous of me to ask this." She paused, visibly steeling herself. Gakupo shot a glance aside at Luka, whose face was a mask. "But I want to ask anyway," Miku continued. "I'd like you all to… to…"
Taking a deep breath, Miku shot up off the chair. "Come to the beach with me!" she shouted, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
There was a chorus of "What?" from Gakupo and the kotatsu. Luka, unable to hold it in anymore, grinned and hugged Gakupo.
"Miku mentioned one day during practice that her parents own a little strip of beach down in the South Sea," she explained. "Apparently, they've invited Miku and any of her friends to stay with them over the Festival of Masks – and she wants to bring us three."
"The festival starts tomorrow," Miku added with a sly smile, "and goes until the 31st this year. Kuniaku U.'s one of the only schools that gives a whole week off, did you know that?"
Ruko poked her head out from under the table. "The 30th is Luka's birthday," she said. "I couldn't go unless you promised to let us hold her a giant beach partay."
"You mean beach party?" Miku asked, frowning.
"Beach partay," repeated Ruko, dead serious.
"Well, it's my parents' money," Miku replied, getting back on topic, "so I'm sure we could work something out." She giggled, looking around at her friends. "So what do you say, everyone?"
"Sounds good to me," Ruko said, giving Miku an upside-down thumbs-up before realizing and quickly flipping it. Luka nodded, folding her hands in her lap.
"Though I'm not sure about this huge party," she said. "I mean, for the past few years we've just shared a bottle of wine between the three of us, so…"
"We'll work it out," Miku assured her, smiling. She turned to Gakupo, who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "How about it, Gakupo-san?"
"I do have a paper to write…" he said. Luka hit him.
"So that's a yes, then?" Miku asked. Gakupo nodded ruefully, rubbing discreetly at his arm. "Sounds good," she declared, holding her right hand out over the coffee table. "Let's meet back here tomorrow after lunchtime, and we can call a cab or two for the airport." Leaning forward, Luka laid her hand atop Miku's. There was a moment of silence.
"Come on, you two," Luka said, looking between Gakupo and Ruko. Ruko made a cursory effort to sit up, eventually giving a 'well, I tried' shrug and settling for holding her hand out in the general direction of the table. Gakupo placed his hand on top of Luka's, and the four nodded firmly.
"It's settled, then," Miku declared, bending to pick up her bag and shoulder it. "I'll talk to my parents tonight and we should be good to go." She brought her hands together, letting her fingers brush across the back of her right hand. "I'll see you all back here, okay?" With that, she was gone, the faintest hint of leeks trailing through the air out the door after her.
"Well, we should probably go pack," Luka said, after a moment. "Gakkun, I'll let you go – you have to pack your bathing suit," she reminded him. "Ruko, you too. You can't just sleep on the beach."
Ruko stuck her tongue out at her roommate. "Can too."
"Okay, then, don't just sleep on the beach," Luka replied, standing. She walked over to the doorway to her room, then paused again, thinking. "Though… I have to wonder just how rich Miku's parents are, if they can get us next-day tickets on a flight to the South Sea during winter break," she mused.
"Who said anything about tickets?" asked the man. Standing at least head-to-head with Ruko, he was leanly muscled and quite tan. His hair was jet-black and slicked back, revealing a large scar running horizontally across his forehead; when he smiled, one got the impression that his incisors were just a little longer than one might expect.
All of this meant nothing compared to the machine he was standing in front of.
"Your parents sent a private jet?" Luka sputtered, staring at the sleek little plane. Matte-black, it was painted with vibrant red detailing and bore the legend 'Hatsune Records' along the chassis.
Miku had the grace to look embarrassed. "I may have played down that part of it," she said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The sun was high overhead and the air was crisp despite the heat shimmering up from the tarmac; nearby, massive jet liners taxied around, looking simply clunky next to the Hatsune jet.
"Did you also play down the 'beach' part?" Gakupo asked, setting his suitcase down. He gave a respectful bow to the pilot, who gave him a dazzling smile in return.
"…Yes," Miku replied wretchedly. "They actually own some islands in the South Sea."
"How many islands?" Ruko asked, peering at Miku.
The green-haired girl practically wilted. "Some?" she squeaked.
Luka stepped forward, putting a hand on Miku's shoulder. "Don't worry, Miku-chan," she said, smiling. "It's true that most people would be more excited after learning that their hosts for the Festival of Masks own private islands, but Ruko's just being contrary –" she shot Ruko a glance – "for some reason. It's Al-san, right?" she said, addressing the pilot, who nodded courteously to her. "Thank you for coming to pick us up, Al-san," she finished.
"Not a problem at all, miss," Al replied, bending to pick up Gakupo's suitcase and both of Ruko's bags at once. "And yes, miss, it is Al – though most people call me Big Al. Can't imagine why," he added with a wink, picking up the rest of the luggage on the second go-around.
"We might as well get going, then, if you're all ready," he continued, showing the four up the staircase into the jet. "Young mistress, just let me know."
"Let's go," Miku said, turning her chair around to ensure that everyone else was seated comfortably. Each row held only two chairs, one on either side of the central aisle; more akin to leather easy chairs than airline seats, they boasted a full-horizontal reclining range, which Ruko immediately took advantage of. Luka took the chair opposite her roommate, while Gakupo and Miku took the row ahead of them.
"We'll be in the air for about an hour and a half, so feel free to do whatever you want," Al said, voice crystal-clear over the speaker, as they took off. "That includes, but is not necessarily limited to, sleeping, singing, dancing, eating, reading, talking, martial arts, inventing new words, inventing new curse words, playing card games and forging major pieces of art. Sadly, I'll have to ask you not to try skydiving today."
Miku shared a laugh with Luka. "I've known Al for years," she explained. "He always makes jokes when I'm flying alone."
"I see," Luka replied, smiling. She swiveled around to Ruko, who hadn't moved since takeoff. "Are you all right? You look a little pale," she said quietly.
"I'm fine," Ruko said, not opening her eyes. Luka opened her mouth, but the black-haired woman spoke again. "Pretty fancy, hm, having her own plane chauffeur?" she asked, pitching her voice low. Miku had engaged Gakupo in conversation about his paper; she listened to the purple-haired man with genuine interest, and did not seem to hear. "I'm surprised she didn't make him carry her into the plane too…"
"Is there something wrong?" Luka asked, frowning. She leaned across the aisle to look at Ruko, who cracked open a bloodred eye to look back. "You liked her fine before we found out her family was rich, Ruko," she continued. "Look," she said, gesturing at Miku, who was laughing at one of Gakupo's quiet jokes. "It's Miku-chan, okay? Not some 'No-way-I'm-wrong-because-I'm-just-that-cute' princess," she finished. "That's not going to change."
Ruko looked at her roommate a moment longer, then hit the lever on the side of her chair to sit up. She dug around in her bag, producing a set of craft supplies and an incomplete mask, which she laid on her lap before pointedly turning away from Luka. Luka sighed and straightened her chair; it was only later that night that she realized what Ruko had muttered when she'd turned away.
"I don't want anything to change."
"Mother? Father?" Miku called, peering around the door into the cavernous depths of the house – palace, really – they had arrived at after a short drive from the small concrete airstrip. Built in old Kuniakkan fashion with sloped roofs and elegantly-trimmed porches, the entire complex was surrounded by a stone wall as decorative as it was functional. Past the courtyards and outbuildings arranged around the main house, Luka could see the blue sea sparkling in the afternoon sun.
"This place is amazing," Gakupo breathed, running a hand along an elaborate pattern carved into the doorframe. "Miku-san, is this truly Atsureki-era carving?"
"Yes, it is," said a new voice, interjecting itself over Gakupo's. "If you recognize its value, perhaps you would consider not touching it."
Gakupo jerked his hand away from the carved wood as a striking woman rounded the corner of the porch. Tall and very thin, appearing not a day over thirty, the woman exuded an air of grace; the poison-green kimono she wore, skillfully wrapped to expose a just-so amount of bosom, whispered wealth with every hiss of silk on silk. Even the paper fan she held conveyed both highest class and exquisite taste as it stirred the strands of chocolate-brown hair that had escaped her loose bun.
"Dear Mother," Miku exclaimed, stepping back down from the doorway. She gave a respectful bow. "I received your letter, Mother," she said, "and, as you requested, I have come to visit you and Father." She bowed again, then half-turned to indicate the others. "I have also brought three of my acquaintances from University - Megurine Luka-san, Yokune Ruko-san and Kamui Gakupo-san."
"It is my pleasure, my lady," Gakupo said, bowing from the waist. Luka and Ruko followed suit, and the three of them received a bow mere inches away from 'curt' in return.
"Well. We must not be lacking in hospitality, however… unexpected the guests," Miku's mother replied after a moment, snapping her fan shut with a flick of her wrist.
"I am Hatsune Yosoko," she declared. "You may address me as Hatsune-san. I trust my daughter will outline any other rules of conduct for you," she added, looking aside at Miku. For an instant, Luka saw the woman's eyes dart to Miku's; but the moment passed. The chill Luka suddenly felt in the air, however, lingered.
"Place them in the cabana rooms," Yosoko said to Al, who bowed deeply. "There are several still vacant." Al bowed again and picked up the travelers' luggage; he started back down the porch stairs before Yosoko raised a single hand.
"Your room in the main house is still kept up by the cleaning staff," she said to Miku, who paused halfway down the stairs. "If you wish, you may stay there for the duration of the holiday."
Miku glanced involuntarily out to the sea, then back to her mother. She opened her mouth to reply.
Yosoko flicked her wrist, snapping the fan – decorated with the kanji for Hatsune in what was surely real gold plate– out to its full width. Miku closed her mouth again, and nodded. Yosoko mirrored the gesture ever so slightly, then inclined her head to the guests and stepped through the front door.
Al shrugged Miku's luggage off his shoulder, shifting Ruko's bags to the arm he'd freed up. "I'm sorry, miss," he said quietly, putting her bag down. "If you'll wait a moment, I'll bring your bags in for you – I'd like to get the others settled, though."
"No, I'll come down with you," Miku replied, picking up her bag and setting it inside the house. "Let's all take a look at the ocean together, hm?" she asked, smiling. "Once everyone's settled in, we can go for a swim!" She slid past Al on the stairs, retracing their steps along the central greystone path that connected the main gate with the central building. Once outside the fence, she turned right, following the path along the wall to the shore.
"Does that happen very often?" Luka asked as the three travelers and Al began to follow after her.
"Does what happen very often?" Al asked, turning his head to look at her. Though he had shown no strain under the weight of their luggage before, lines now pulled at the scar across his forehead and at the corners of his mouth. Somewhat taken aback, Luka frowned.
"…That," she said, gesturing to include the main house, Yosoko, and Miku in one pronoun. Al hefted the bags farther up his shoulders, making no reply.
"I wasn't expecting her mother to be like that, either," Ruko chimed in, after a moment. "I mean, yes, plastic surgeried like no one's business and falling out of her kimono I could have guessed, but I didn't expect her to be such a raging bit –"
The luggage crashed to the ground, crushing a flat outline in a small patch of sea grass. Al stood with his back to the group, and when he spoke his voice was very low. "The Lady Hatsune has many qualities," he – growled. "Familial love is not high among them. I am aware of that. But I will not hear her maligned." He ran a hand over his face, visibly composing himself, then bent to retrieve the bags. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, his voice back to normal. "I didn't mean to snap."
"It's quite alright," Gakupo assured him, only his use of the contraction betraying his surprise. "Such talk violates the standards expected of us while we are guests, Ruko-san," he gently reminded the black-haired woman.
"Yes, yes," Ruko replied. She sighed, then raised a hand in the direction of the main house, which was now obscured by the rising terraces they had just descended. "Sorry," she said.
"Good enough for now," Luka said, patting Ruko on the head. The taller woman sighed and leaned into it, forcing Luka to stretch her arm out. "Can't you walk straight?" she asked her friend, half-mock-annoyed. "This was cute when you were a kitten."
"I'm always cute," Ruko replied. "See, watch –" she stopped in mid-sentence as the group rounded the last corner through the thicket of palm trees that separated the compound from the beach. "Oh. Wow."
From under their feet, where lush grass melted away into rich, shade-cooled soil, a blanket of pure white sand stretched, sparkling, down to the edge of the bright azure ocean. Small waves lapped idly at the shore, limited by the tall stone cliffs that formed a natural harbor around the beach. Dotted across the sand, palm trees stretched into the sky to provide shade and – as was already in evidence – anchoring points for several cushioned hammocks. A cool breeze kissed Luka's face as she stepped out onto the sand and shed her shoes; the powder-fine sand, somehow untouched by the wind, slid around and over her feet as she wriggled her toes.
"Welcome to Isobe-jima," Al laughed, his good humor restored as he began walking across the beach. "One of the most exclusive resort islands in the South Sea, and one of two owned by Hatsune Records, Inc."
"This will be the greatest beach partay of all time," Ruko murmured reverently, kneeling to scoop up a double handful of sand.
"Not with only four people," Luka replied teasingly, giving her a hand back to her feet. "Half the fun of beach parties is inviting random passersby to join in."
"Well, you three aren't the only guests," Al said, "though you're not likely to see many of the others. They're dignitaries and the like – CEOs, you know? They'll either be up in the other buildings in the compound," he explained, "or out there – " he pointed – "in their cabanas. You all are lucky – you get the cabana rooms," he added, grinning.
The big man paused at the beginning of a wide boardwalk that extended out into the cove. Every hundred feet, it branched off to one of several large, thatched-roof buildings that stood on stilts above the water. Each boasted a huge sliding glass back door, which led out onto a combination patio/deck; sturdy wooden stairs granted direct access to the ocean itself from the porch. "These first three are the empty ones, if I recall," he said, pointing them out. "Decide amongst yourselves who gets which, okay? I'll handle the bags."
After a short discussion, it was decided that Ruko would get the room farthest from shore, then Luka, then Gakupo. Al grinned and started off down the boardwalk, depositing their bags by the doors. "Please, enjoy yourselves here," he said as he left, giving them a polite nod. "Don't cause any trouble, and we'll get along great, just like we have been." He grinned again, nearly blinding them with the sunlight sparking off his teeth, then set off for the compound.
"I'm gonna go get changed," Ruko muttered, pulling uncomfortably at her shirt. "Gakkun, swim trunks on! Last one back here gets to carry the other one up the hill." She sprinted down the boardwalk, leaving Luka and Gakupo standing together.
"Is something bothering you, Luka-san?" Gakupo asked quietly, making no move toward his cabana. Luka sighed, casting a look back at the main house, the tallest spire of which was just visible through the tops of the trees.
"I don't know, Gakkun," she said, reaching out to hug him. "It just seems strange, that's all. When Hatsune-san was talking to Miku, I –" she paused. "Where is Miku, anyway?"
"I am… not sure," Gakupo replied, frowning. "She came down here before we did… ah," he said, relieved, as Miku stepped out of his cabana. She was wearing a black bikini with a faux-lace skirt and teal-blue accents on the top, and she dumped the clothes she had been wearing earlier in a heap inside Gakupo's new front door.
"Sorry, Gakupo-san," she said, jogging over to the bemused pair. "I had to change, and yours was the closest. I'll bring my clothes up when I go." She stretched, the long lines of her body highlighted by the sun, and smiled. "You two should get changed, too," she continued. "I think Ruko-san was probably serious about making you carry her."
"Indeed," Gakupo murmured, nodding respectfully to Miku. He disappeared into his cabana, shouldering his bag as he went. Luka started down the boardwalk for her own house, but she was stopped by a hand on her arm. Surprised, she turned to face Miku; this close, she could see the puffiness around the girl's eyes.
"Miku-chan… have you been –" Luka asked quietly, instinctively lifting a hand to touch Miku's face. She caught herself in time, using the motion to push a strand of hair behind her ear, but Miku didn't seem to notice anyway.
"Luka-san… can I talk to you?" she asked hesitantly, looking up at the older woman.
Luka frowned. "You don't have to apologize for your mother, Miku-chan," she said, shooting a glance inland. "I'm sorry, but I have to agree with Ruko; she is a bitch."
Miku blinked, then burst into disbelieving laughter. "Did she really say that?" she asked, shaking her head.
Luka blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Well… almost," she said. "Al-san snapped at her, though."
"Al-san is very loyal to my parents," Miku replied quietly. "He would work for them even if they paid him nothing at all." She took a deep breath, then plunged into her sentence. "Anyway, Luka-san, I just wanted to say thank you."
"Thank me? For what? You invited me a South Sea island for a week, Miku-chan," Luka reminded her incredulously. "If anything, I owe you thanks."
"No, just… in general," Miku said, clasping her hands behind her back. "I want to thank you all, for… well, for everything. For being my friends. You three are the first real friends I've ever had, you know? Not counting onii-chan, of course." She smiled.
"Miku-chan…" Luka said, staring at her. Miku blinked, suddenly self-conscious, and opened her mouth to say something else.
"Luka, I'm disappointed in you," Ruko called, trotting to a halt nearby. She wore a man's pair of bathing trunks and a loose-fitting black button-down shirt, which she had tied underneath her breasts. "You didn't even try, did you?"
Luka raised an eyebrow at her roommate's ensemble. "You can't swim in that," she said, frowning at Ruko's loose knotwork.
Ruko frowned back at her in equal measure. "Why not?" she asked, adjusting her neckline a little. "You know I hate clothes that are tight on my boobs."
"Well, yeah, but that outfit's a little…" Luka replied, looking to Miku for help. The green-haired girl managed to shake her head to indicate that no, Luka was on her own here, before bursting out giggling. Confused, Luka turned to follow her gaze. Her eyes widened.
Stepping out of the cabana, Gakupo waved almost sheepishly, then continued tying his hair back into a ponytail. The reason for Miku's laughter soon became evident: his swim trunks, which fell to just below his knees, were emblazoned with a psychedelic pattern of repeating eggplant shapes. He caught up with them on the beach by the end of the boardwalk, where Ruko stood, nodding approvingly at his suit.
"Hey Gaku, tell me something," Ruko said, stepping in front of him. "Do I look like I'm going to fall out of this shirt?" she asked, presenting her chest to him for inspection.
Gakupo shook his head. "You are fine, Ruko-san," he replied solemnly, smiling at her.
"You're taking clothing advice from a man wearing LSD for pants," Luka pointed out to Ruko, which sent Miku into another laughing fit.
"Your objection is noted, Luka-san," Gakupo said, pointedly tugging his trunks up a little. Luka scoffed at him.
"Open defiance," she remarked to Miku, indicating Gakupo with a thumb. "That's inexcusable, don't you think?"
"Completely," Miku replied, nodding sagely. She advanced with Luka on Gakupo, picking him up and bodily slinging him into the chest-deep water the boardwalk stood over.
"How do you like your trunks now, Gakkun?" Luka called, leaning over the edge as he resurfaced. Gakupo studied his bathing suit for a moment, then looked back up at Luka, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun.
"I believe they have killed several small fish already, Luka-san," he deadpanned. Luka saw his eyes flicker to something over her shoulder, then quickly back to her eyes – but not quickly enough.
"Aha," Luka shouted, attempting to sidestep Ruko's push. She had enough time to realize that Gakupo had effectively set her up before the world tipped sideways and went all wet.
"Bwaugh! Damnit, Ruko, I'm still dressed," she sputtered, coming up for air.
"Wasn't me," Ruko said, shaking her head. She pointed to Miku, who smiled devilishly and tossed Luka a playful wink.
"Little…" Luka muttered darkly, starting to wade back to shore. Still, it was nice to escape the constant heat of the sun, and after a moment she lay back, letting the water frame her face.
"You should change, Luka-san," Miku remarked, shading her eyes against the glare on the water. Luka cracked open an eye to stare at her; the green-haired girl fairly beamed back innocence of the I-surely-have-no-idea-why-you're-glaring-at-me sort.
"I'll go in a minute," Luka replied, closing her eye again. "Though you wouldn't be so eager if you knew what I'm going to do to you once you get in the water."
"Oh? What's that?" Miku asked, folding her arms. She bent over, preparing to jump in, but was stopped by a shout from the shoreline. Al, still perfectly groomed despite the afternoon heat, waved a muscled arm, lowering it as the four approached the shore.
"Young mistress, there you are," he said, giving only the most cursory nod to the other three. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid I have to bring you back up to the house."
Miku frowned, looking around at Ruko, Gakupo and Luka, who mirrored her expression. "Al, we just settled in," she said, adopting a reasoning tone. "Can't we swim a bit longer?"
"Not your guests, miss, just you," Al replied. "Lady Hatsune wants to speak with you regarding this year's preparations for the Festival." He turned, starting back to the edge of the palm thicket. "Let's not keep her waiting, young mistress."
"I guess not," Miku sighed, following after him. She spun on her heel and walked backwards for a few steps, frowning apologetically to her friends. "I'll be right back down, okay?" she said, turning back and trotting to catch up with the tall manservant.
Watching Miku disappear into the trees, Luka felt the same chill settle back into place, without a single cloud in the crystal blue sky.
So there we have it. I don't know how long this arc will take, but I do have some concrete stuff inside the nebulous plot swirl in my brain. Fear not, this fic is going somewhere.
Notes!
While 'yokujin' can mean 'hunter', the warlord Gakupo is writing about would have written his name '慾人', for 'greedy man'. A fitting name for someone known for acquisition campaigns.
The Atsureki era Gakupo is talking about would be equivalent to the Sengoku Jidai of Japanese history, a period of nearly constant war that lasted for roughly two centuries. Kuniaku is named 'evil country'; its history is not a peaceful one. By the way, 'atsureki' (軋轢) translates directly as 'strife' or 'discord'.
Hatsune Yosoko would write her given name as '余所子', translating literally as 'far-off child' but hearkening to 'yosoyososhii' (余所余所しい), meaning 'distant' or 'formal'.
Isobe-jima (磯辺島) means 'beach island'. I am very creative.
Well, everyone, thanks for bearing with me while I worked with this chapter. I'm always happy to get your reviews, so please consider taking a moment to leave one, especially if you're also favoriting the fic or me. You may like it now, but with feedback I can get even better.
Cheers!
-Red