Author's Notes: Tons of thanks to Mizuhara Misao for beta-reading!!!
Chapter 2—Promise
"—Training with Motoko-sensei."
Her brows lowered. She looked down, bit her lip, then smiled.
"Thanks," she said and left hurriedly, her long brown hair dancing over her back and her new kimono sliding across polished wood as she ran across the sunlit corridors of the Kansai temples. She made her way easily around the gargantuan edifice, remembering each turn, each path, each concealed corner she used to hide in every time she had played hide-and-seek with a certain fretful playmate a few years back.
She then quickened her pace even more as her eyes caught a glimpse of the Shinmeiryuu dojos.
"Set-chan?" she blurted out upon opening quite loudly the doors of the ancient structure.
"Konoka-ojou-sama?"
No. It wasn't her.
"She's out in the mountains. Training," Shinmeiryuu master Ayouma Motoko said casually, never looking up from her bow, "She'll be back in a week. Earlier if she gets it right."
"But it's in two days!" the Konoe heir cried as she tightened her right grip around the thick textile of her garments and her left around the rough surface of the wooden door's edge.
"Pardon?"
Konoka looked to her left, her long chocolate hair caressing the exposed skin on the base of her neck. She felt her eyes water—again—and remembered how burnt they felt that night when she had begun hating the beauty of moonlight.
Set-chan, you liar.
The pieces of cleanly cut wood crackled under the small fire. A few moments more and they were joined by a similar material tossed by a blistered white hand. The brilliant orange glow brightened up the cold and eerie surroundings as they had before at times like this, the young samurai recollected.
Setsuna stared blankly at the awfully familiar sight of burning lumber. She sat motionless as she held her sword, Yuunagi to her right shoulder, hugging it like it was a pillow. The night seemed colder than ever, even with every muscle fiber of her body scorching from exhaustion.
"It's a promise, okay?"
A cold breeze went by, blowing dully the girl's black strands over her face. The glow faltered a bit, but Setsuna didn't mind; the flame can regain itself on its own. And maybe she should too, she thought. She lifted her palms to her mouth and began breathing air out to warm them a little. The flame continued to eat away the pieces of wood, but she still felt cold. And guilty.
A man, apparently about twenty years of age, sat on his knees, on a small velvet cushion within a rather large traditional Japanese tea room. He had his long jet-black hair tied with an unusual piece of white cloth as some shorter strands fell on either side of his diplomatic face. Contrasting with his fine-looking Asian features was his very western outfit consisting of a black suit, blue collars, and a white tie, which actually bothered a certain teenager who sat a few feet away.
"Akumatsu Ren," an old man of a long white beard and an abnormally-shaped head said quite proudly as he introduced yet another of his nominees to become his lovely—annoyed—granddaughter's husband.
"He's just twenty-one, Konoka-chan, and already a graduate from a foreign school in Europe and is currently a well-known doctor here in Japan. He says he'll be pursuing fine arts too. Such a talented young man for such a beautiful granddaughter, would you agree, Ren-san?"
"I wouldn't say that much, sir. I'm still a fresh graduate," Ren uttered as he lowered his head at the comment, seemingly humbled by such appraisal, "But I definitely would agree with what you said about Konoka-san."
"Ohoho! Warming up already, Ren-san?"
"Iie… It's just that it's true so…" the young man murmured as he smiled awkwardly at the girl in front of him. She was clad in evidently one of the finest kimonos graced with colorful, elegant designs. Her chocolate-brown hair was tied high up with golden accessories and artificial flowers. Her make-up wasn't actually noticeable afar, but the young woman surely was stunning even without it.
Konoka stared at nothing in particular, rather uninterested in the conversation she found too old for her ears. She sighed silently to herself, wishing for the long day ahead to end quickly before she decided to make a run for it like she had done so during the previous omiai she attended with her lifelong guardian. She remembered how she had asked Setsuna to take her on a date for the rest of the day and how her raven-haired friend had looked down at the cemented pathway, trying to hide the blush that had reached even her ears, and, in doing so, had not been able to see a lamppost she had then walked into.
"Ah, It-te-te…"
Ojou-sama had gone immediately to her Set-chan's side and had held the bridge of her nose, tilting her bleeding friend's head upwards.
"Set-chan no baka," Konoka now whispered sadly the words she had said happily then.
Author's Notes: It's a pointless chapter. I wanted to focus on the emotional/psychological side of their relationship for this story, so I probably won't be writing much physical or romantic interaction between the two. But I guess you should expect tons of angst as in the first chapter.
About Motoko… Besides getting the idea from Houndemon's "Trial by Heart" (Arigatou!!!), I also noticed that in a flashback scene during Konoka and Setsuna's childhood where they first met each other, a (blurry) figure of an older Shinmeiryuu girl, whom Setsuna was hiding behind of, looked like Motoko herself. Well, just the hair, I guess.