CHAPTER EIGHT – A SENSE OF CLOSENESS

Dogs, cats, mice and birds alike observed the scene with curiosity from their cages all around the classroom, but Kirumi's focus was on the task at hand. The stray cat before her seemed docile enough, with its patched black-and-white fur, thin frame and innocent amber eyes, but the words that Gundham Tanaka spoke made it seem as if the feline was a terrible predator of some sort. Then again, whatever animal was involved in his small menagerie, the Ultimate Breeder always made sure to warn anyone passing by the classroom about them, though it was not difficult to know which classroom Gundham kept his animals in; the faint smell of animal fur, pet food and excrement would easily alert anyone to the makeshift menagerie's presence as they walked down the corridors.

"I will try to collar him as quickly as possible, so that he won't be distressed," Kirumi said, readying the pet cone in her gloved hands. "I just hope it wouldn't hurt him in some way."

"I doubt it, but a leonine wanderer's mind can change on a whim, especially when plagued by the corruptive influence of parasites from the void beyond," the Ultimate Breeder remarked in that deep, sinister tone his voice had. "The Seal of Protection may trigger his baser instincts and unleash his bloodlust, but it is a necessity in this grim endeavor, I fear."

Kirumi nodded to show that she had understood. Whatever the other students thought of Gundham, all are agreed that there was no one better when it came to matters concerning the health and wellbeing of animals. Standing by his desk, watching the cat with a serious glare in his differently colored eyes, the Ultimate Breeder looked like an imperious, eccentric figure indeed. Even in the uniform of Ultimates, his outlandish appearance had given him quite a reputation around the school, with his black-and-white undercut, the flowing purple scarf around his neck, the orange earrings that dangled from his earlobes, his bandaged left arm and his black leather boots. Kirumi had encountered him only twice before when she had been helping out students from his class, noticing how he sat ominously in one corner of the room, pale-skinned and grim-looking, with his eyes closed as if he was meditating. As such, it had been surprising when he had approached her earlier—rather reluctantly, she noted—about helping him treat one of his newer arrivals: a stray cat that he had found in his recent travels outside the school.

As Kirumi now approached the cat, ready to collar it with the pet cone, Gundham held out his bandaged arm. "Have care in bringing the seal around his neck!" he said. "I can sense the tension in his bones. One wrong move and he could have your arm."

"Noted," said Kirumi. "If you will, please give me some room to work with, Gundham. I'll try to make him stay as calm as possible."

Gundham looked at her for a moment as if she was mad. After a moment of silence, he chuckled. "Your fearless determination is refreshing to witness," he said, lowering his arm. "You worry not about claws rending at your flesh, or parasites fleeing the beast's corrupted flesh to infest your own limbs. Perhaps that is why I knew you were the soundest choice I could have in helping me placate this terrible, afflicted being." He made a sweeping gesture, his scarf flapping like a cape behind him. "Very well, then! Do what you will. If anything goes awry, however, pray that I am able to harness enough energy in my weakened state to protect us both!"

In the end, however, in spite of Gundham's predictions of an attack that could come at any moment, Kirumi managed to collar the cat with the pet cone easily enough, patting it gently on its back as she slipped the cone carefully around its head. The cat had tried to resist as soon as the cone encircled its neck, but a few more pats and strokes from Kirumi's gloved fingers eased its tension soon enough. Up close, she soon saw the reasons for Gundham's concern for the animal; there were bare, reddened patches on its flank and midsection that could only have come from fleas, likely a result of the cat's time wandering the streets as a stray.

"Most impressive," Gundham muttered with an approving nod as he watched the cat scratch idly at its cone. "For you to tame the eldritch wanderer's fickle nature with such impunity, especially for someone who is no beastspeaker . . . your talents are indeed as formidable as they are storied, Arachnean sibyl."

"I'm glad to help," said Kirumi, smiling as she patted her gloves clean. "If you need my assistance with your other animals, feel free to approach me again."

Gundham threw back his head and roared with laughter, not unlike a dramatic villain straight out of a work of fiction. "The audacity of your offer is admirable, though likely misplaced. Still, I shall keep it in mind. Ordinarily I would be able to handle the undertakings in my arcane bestiary by myself, and I would have relished the chance to placate this golden-eyed demon had Maga-Z not unleashed his terrible bloodthirst upon my cursed arm only recently."

"I see. I hope your arm recovers soon enough," said Kirumi earnestly, her eyes resting on Gundham's bandaged arm for a moment. "Has Mikan taken a look at it yet?"

Gundham let out a snort of contempt. "I do not know of any being that would be able to handle the abyssal power leaking from my injured arm, let alone someone who quakes in fear as frequently as that mewling healer. Then again, if I let my injuries persist for too long, my powers would surely wane, and the demonic beasts under my rule may break free of their shackles and bring this world to an untimely end. . ."

He shook his head grimly. "Should the need arise, perhaps I shall . . . consider approaching her."

"Very good. Now, is there anything else you need help with?" asked Kirumi. "If not, I will take my leave, if you don't mind. There are other duties I need to take care of."

"That will be all for now." At that, Gundham inclined his head, his earrings swaying with the gesture. "It was a pleasure watching a savant like you at work, Arachnean sibyl. Very rarely does the Supreme Overlord of Ice give his gratitude freely to those brazen enough to serve, but you have it nonetheless. Now then, leave my cursed domain at once! I need to begin laying down the necessary enchantments to contain this wanderer's plague before it afflicts both hapless mortals and demon beasts alike."

"Very well. I hope the feline recovers soon enough. Take care, Gundham."

Outside the classroom, students started to increase in numbers as the day's classes came to an end, their idle chatter filling the corridors and hallways as they left their classrooms to go spend the rest of the day somewhere else. A few recognized and greeted Kirumi with smiles and greetings as she passed them by, with Kirumi reciprocating courteously. With each passing week, more students came up to her asking for her services, with Gundham being one of the more recent ones, and it felt fulfilling to serve them all to the best of her abilities.

It was even busier and noisier in the kitchens when Kirumi arrived, with the school's roster of cooks were working together to prepare dinner for later that evening. Pots and pans alike let out aromatic smoke and steam as they sat on the stoves, while the gleaming countertops were laden with various ingredients ready for preparation—raw meat and fish, piles of vegetables, and seasonings of every possible variety. Amidst it all, a myriad of sounds created the kitchen's cacophonous harmony, the busy atmosphere not unlike the bustling confines of a five-star restaurant's kitchens with the clatter of cooking utensils, the sizzle of food, and the occasional shout or two from the cooks.

Amidst the sea of steam and working bodies, Teruteru Hanamura bustled out to meet Kirumi as soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen. "Ah, Kirumi! You've arrived just in time, my lovely darling!" the Ultimate Cook called out, his chubby face breaking into a wide smile. "Come, come. I need your expert opinion on a couple of things I've been working on."

Kirumi followed him to his station, where an assortment of high-quality ingredients was laid out in an orderly manner. There were two choice cuts of brisket, their marbling making their succulent-looking red flesh stand out in a tantalizing sight; a mixture of spices in clear canisters that Kirumi recognized as part of Teruteru's private repertoire; and a few bottles of liquid condiments such as olive oil, cooking wine, soy sauce, vinegar and the like.

"As you can see, I have two dishes that I'm trying to perfect in time for tonight's dinner," the Ultimate Cook stated. "As much as I'd like to serve some of the finer meals I've cooked before for high-end critics in Michelin-starred European brasseries, I fear that most of our peers might fail to appreciate the finer points of such delicacies. Still, that doesn't mean I shouldn't give the meals here a bit more pizazz, to help bring out some more . . . ecstasy. Know what I mean?"

"I understand," said Kirumi.

Teruteru gave her a knowing grin and picked up one of the brisket slabs. "You see, I'm planning on using my new spice blend for this first recipe of mine—boeuf épicé à la Toulouse!"

Listening to the dish's name, Kirumi recognized the words "spiced beef" in French, and she could not help but wonder if this was simply an ordinary dish elevated to lofty standards by Teruteru's skill and thirst for sophistication. Nevertheless, whatever it was, it would be a delectable meal indeed, especially where the Ultimate Cook is concerned.

"It's a work-in-progress that has been strictly confidential until now," Teruteru went on. "After all, what self-respecting chef would keep most of his recipes only to himself, right? Of course, I can't exactly reveal the blend's recipe to you or anyone else, but let's just say that it'll be oh-so . . . magnifique." He laughed softly, running his free hand gently across the brisket. "I don't know about you, mademoiselle, but isn't the mere thought of rubbing this savory, one-of-a-kind blend all over this superb hunk of meat enough to get you going?"

Kirumi simply nodded along. For anyone who has ever encountered Teruteru, she knew that the Ultimate Cook's suggestive tone and remarks were less than welcome in many cases, whether they were intentional or not. Still, she had endured far worse in the past; after all, being a maid who was young, talented and beautiful—at least, according to the people she had met before—often drew in employers whose reputations for sleaziness could be far worse than Teruteru's penchant for innuendos or even Miu's openly vulgar ramblings. To her credit, Kirumi learned quickly enough how to deal with such people and encounters—be strictly about business.

"I take it this first dish will involve grilling, is that correct?" she asked Teruteru. "If so, I know a few side dish recipes that would work superbly with grilled meat, especially with a cut like this. Perhaps you can use all of them and leave it to the students to choose, and you can refer to their choices in order to decide next time if such an endeavor is worth exploring again? But of course, the decision rests solely on you, and I would be overstepping my boundaries as a maid if I forced you to go along with my suggestion instead of hearing you out first."

She spoke with such a professional tone that Teruteru looked disarmed for a moment, his suggestive façade faltering. "Er, yes, w-well . . . of course, I would always be delighted to hear your take on our culinary endeavors here, madame!" he replied, setting the brisket down with a nervous smile this time. "I mean, y-you may not be a chef like me, but I know that your training as a maid has allowed you to explore and try out many high-quality recipes, as evidenced by your previous enlightened suggestions in helping me with the school's menu."

Kirumi smiled. "I'm always glad to be of help. But before we discuss that, may I know what your second planned recipe is?"

"Second? Ah, yes, o-of course!"

At that, Teruteru snapped back into his more professional demeanor as well, clearing his throat as he gestured at the other cut of brisket. "For this second cut, there's this recipe that has been on my mind recently, a little something that crossed my mind when I remembered my years of serving my multi-awarded dishes in our family di—ah, I mean, r-restaurant!"

"That sounds like a magnificent dish indeed," Kirumi remarked.

"Quite." Teruteru managed to chuckle more confidently this time as he patted the brisket. "I call it . . . Versailles-style Meat and Potato Stew queue de boeuf!"

"Intriguing," said Kirumi. "Please continue. We might be able to make it happen if we get straight to business, yes?"

"Oh, of course, of course!" said Teruteru, moving about briskly now as he prepared the ingredients he needed. "Wouldn't want to take up too much of your time, seeing how busy you always are, Miss Kirumi. Though if you're free, I could always keep you company, if you don't mind. . ."

Kirumi smiled politely. "Thank you, but there is already someone who helps me with that."

By the time she had finished her duties in the kitchens, Kirumi found herself hurrying down the corridors towards her dorm room. There were still thirty minutes before four, just enough time for her to get dressed and meet Ryoma at their usual spot outside the gymnasium for their workout. As tired as she seemed to feel, Kirumi knew there was no excuse for her to miss out, especially now that the gymnasium was starting to become more crowded during the afternoons and early evenings. After the announcement about the upcoming school events, more Ultimates had taken the time to become more productive in their own ways to prepare for them. Some chose to work on any personal activities related to their talents, like Teruteru and Gundham did, while more took the opportunity to exercise at the gym to keep their bodies in good shape on the road to September. While Kirumi knew that more students would probably ask for her services with drinks, fresh towels and clothing at the gym, it also meant that Ryoma needed more of her company than ever in order to not feel self-conscious about exercising alongside more students.

Ryoma was already waiting for her when she arrived outside the gymnasium fifteen minutes later. Having carried with her a load of drinks in her sports bag for the other gym goers, Kirumi found herself breathing rather quickly from her brisk walk to the gymnasium, a fact that seemed to pique Ryoma's concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," Kirumi managed to say with a smile. "I thought I was running late already."

"Not really. You're on time, as always."

"That's good to know. I had more things to take care of before I got here. Anyway, shall we get going?"

"Yeah, c'mon."

Apart from the usual gym patrons like Sakura, Aoi, Nekomaru and Akane, there were relatively new faces inside the gymnasium as well. Kirumi took note of Leon Kuwata, Class 78's Ultimate Baseball Star, flexing in front of the mirror as he took pictures of himself with his phone; his classmate, the tall and strapping Ultimate Biker Gang Leader Mondo Owada, was curling a couple of heavy dumbbells some distance away, his muscles rippling against his sweat-sheened skin with every curl he made; and with a smile of recognition Kirumi also spotted Taka pedaling furiously on one of the exercise bikes at the opposite end of the room, his red eyes brimming with so much intensity that it looked as if he was trying to will the exercise bike to move from its place. Sakura and Aoi were working out in tandem as well, Sakura with her static exercises, Aoi with her yoga. And at the farthest end of the room, their voices clashing and mingling in a loud, boisterous clamor, Nekomaru was pushing Akane to her limit with various gymnast exercises atop an expanse of scattered exercise mats.

Next to her, Ryoma acknowledged the new arrivals with a nod. "Nice to see that more people are coming in," he muttered. "I just hope I won't get in their way."

"I'm sure you won't," Kirumi assured him with a smile. "If you need me, don't hesitate to call for me."

"Sure thing."

At that, Kirumi went to start her own exercises, striking up a pleasant conversation with Taka as she began her usual cardio routine on an exercise bike. Meanwhile, Ryoma went to the weight racks, stretched for a couple of minutes, and bunkered down for some push-ups. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, even as the noises in the gymnasium seemed to slowly increase in volume as time passed. Once, the atmosphere was momentarily derailed by a loud din when Akane and Nekomaru began their customary sparring match just as a gaggle of Reserve Course girls flocked at the exercise room's entrance; Leon sidled up to meet them, prompting them to begin screaming and giggling in excitement. Horrified and affronted by these simultaneous developments, Taka had hurried forth to reprimand Akane, Nekomaru, Leon and the girls, with Sakura following close behind him in case any trouble began. The rest of the gym goers and the other students outside watched in a mixture of amusement, bewilderment and disapproval. Kirumi also stood by, ready to help Taka and Sakura keep order in case things got rowdy.

And all the while, she noticed from the corner of her eye, Ryoma was exercising with an intensity she had never seen before from him.

From his pull-ups, triceps dips and bicep curls to his push-ups, sit-ups and incline presses, he seemed to be afire, putting in even more work than before, going more than a few repetitions beyond his usual goals. Kirumi had initially taken such things as the fruits of his gradual improvement, both physically and mentally, but the way Ryoma moved made him seem empowered with a sense of forceful purpose, of grim clarity. He paid little heed to the commotion that surrounded him, choosing instead to focus upon his reflection on the exercise room's many mirrors with an utterly serious glare, as if he was channeling the energy he needed by staring daggers at his own face. Kirumi could only observe him from afar with mild concern as she exercised, and she considered going to him a few times in order to check if anything was bothering him, but a part of her sensed that he was better off left alone; whatever her concerns were, they would have to wait until their workout session ended.

When the commotion from earlier had finally subsided, with the Reserve Course girls having been shooed off and Nekomaru going with Akane to spar in the dojo instead, Kirumi figured that it would be a good time to begin handing out refreshments. Taka accepted his sports drink with a hefty measure of relief and gratitude, while Sakura and Kirumi commended him on his efforts in maintaining peace and order. Leon, on the other hand, cast him a few sullen glances from the sidelines as he went to the showers to change, though he did accept a bottle of sports drink from Kirumi with a wink and a smile.

Ryoma had finished a set of cable pulls when Kirumi approached him with a fresh water bottle. He looked up at her, sweat trickling freely down his face and causing his shirt to stick to his body, and accepted the bottle with a nod of thanks.

"Going an extra mile today, are we?" Kirumi asked him, smiling.

Ryoma grunted as he took a swig of water. "You could say that. I don't think I've worked out this much in the past couple of years. But I figured it was a good time to crank things up a notch."

Kirumi nodded, feeling relieved that his reasons were more positive than she had previously imagined. Nevertheless, Ryoma could be enigmatic sometimes, she knew, and perhaps there was more than meets the eye when it came to his improving drive. Privately, she guessed that the road to September had something to do with it, though it was a topic that she was still reluctant to bring up lest it clouded Ryoma's focus and growth.

As Ryoma drank another gulp of water, he let out a sigh of discomfort. Taking note of this, Kirumi looked down to see him flexing his right shoulder gingerly. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

Ryoma paused for a moment, as if gauging the feel of his shoulder as he slowed down his flexing. "I think so," he said in reply, though when he bent his right elbow and pulled backwards to stretch, a spasm of pain flickered across his face, and with a twitch he quickly eased his arm back to its normal position.

"Damn it. . ." he muttered under his breath.

Kirumi straightened up immediately. "Are you hurt?"

His breath hissing through his nostrils, Ryoma could not seem to answer directly. "I think I strained myself a bit too much," he said. "Must've worked my shoulders too hard. . ."

"Where does it hurt?" Kirumi inquired, going on full duty mode.

"Right around the middle of my back, going up my shoulder blades," Ryoma grunted. Slowly, he tried to stretch his arms again, but he stopped with a hiss of pain as his arms reached a certain point. He shook his head, looking peeved, and glanced up at the cable machine he had been using earlier. Sensing his frustration and determination to keep going in spite of himself, Kirumi placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I think we can call it a day here, Ryoma," she said.

He looked up at her, his face bearing a look of disappointment now. "How about you?" he asked quietly. "You're not done working out yet."

"There's always tomorrow," said Kirumi with an earnest smile. "Now then, does your back hurt only when you stretch, or is the pain there regardless?"

Ryoma looked down at his body for a moment, as if checking to see which case was true. "I think it's still there," he replied, "but if I could just lie down or put some heat on it, I should be fine."

"Then would you like to go back to your room now?" Kirumi proffered. "I'll accompany you."

Ryoma grimaced. "That sounds like too much to ask, Kirumi."

"It is no trouble to me," Kirumi insisted. "I will carry your things as well, so that you won't have to strain yourself further. Once we get there, I can get some hot compress for you to use. Or perhaps some menthol ointment, if you prefer."

"I . . ." Ryoma beseeched her almost imploringly for a second, as if trying to debate further about the idea of having her tend to him like his body's strain was a serious matter. But in Kirumi's mind, it was a serious matter, especially with how upset and disappointed it seemed to make Ryoma feel.

At last, Ryoma heaved a resigned sigh. "Alright, let's go," he said. "At least with you around, I won't do anything else that'll make this worse."

"Very well," said Kirumi with a nod. "I'll just go get our things."

As the two of them made their way to Ryoma's room, having left the gym so fast that they were still clad in their workout clothes, Kirumi's mind raced past a variety of ideas on how best to address Ryoma's workout strain. Naturally, a preliminary set of remedies—hot compress and resting in bed, like Ryoma had suggested—would be ideal in order to soothe any discomfort he might be feeling and ease any aches that will intensify in the following day. But Kirumi also knew that preparing for all possible scenarios was also a must, and she needed to stand by Ryoma in order to do so if anything else happens. All throughout their walk towards his room, Ryoma looked silently forlorn, as if he had done her a personal wrong by straining himself too much and cutting their session short.

When the two of them arrived at his room, Kirumi set aside their bags while Ryoma sat down at a nearby chair. "Do you have some face towels in your bathroom?" Kirumi asked him.

"Yeah, there should be some next to the sink," replied Ryoma.

Indeed, as Kirumi entered the bathroom and flicked on the light switch, she found a number of face towels hanging neatly from a rack next to the bathroom sink, as well as a small wash basin in the cabinets below it. She set the bathroom's water heater to a higher level, waited for a few minutes for the water to reach the desired temperature, and filled the wash basin to capacity. She soaked one of the face towels in the hot water, nodded with approval at the heat, and went back to Ryoma's room.

Ryoma looked up when he heard her approaching. Kirumi walked over to him, set down the wash basin at his table, and picked up the face towel again, pressing it free of any extra water and watching the trickles seep through her fingers. In the silence of Ryoma's room, the sounds seemed to resonate louder than normal, magnifying an air of seriousness that hung between them. Kirumi turned to face Ryoma, ready to apply the hot compress, but only then did she realize something she had forgotten to acknowledge.

How exactly am I going to do this . . . ?

Her eyes met Ryoma's for a brief moment, and Kirumi imagined seeing the reflection of her own private discomfiture in them. When a faint look of realization dawned on Ryoma's face as well, she looked away, fearing that in her haste to help him, she had inadvertently boxed the two of them into an awkward corner. She gripped the face towel tighter. Perhaps I should just find another way to do this, she told herself. Maybe there's something else that—

Ryoma shifted in his seat, tugged at the hem of his shirt, and took it off carefully, his movements a little constrained as he grunted in discomfort. Bewildered, Kirumi drew back as she watched him place the shirt against the edge of the table, right next to the wash basin. When he had done so, Ryoma scooted a little on his chair and leaned forward, his torso now completely bare, his back exposed in front of her. The grooves formed by the muscles on his shoulders, arms and back seemed to run deep against the relatively dark atmosphere of his room, showing the fruits of athletic training and personal exercise. Kirumi's hands trembled involuntarily, though it was not the sight of Ryoma's bare torso that kept shaking her composure.

The scars on his back told a whole other story, the one that he never shared with anyone, even her. As they lay bare now, Kirumi could not seem to tear her gaze from them. The long ones were made with cuts and slices from a knife, she knew, with some of them running a little deeper than the others. The smaller ones gave more menacing implications; Kirumi sensed that they could either be the marks of previous stab wounds or gunshot wounds. A few of them had formed keloids as they had healed, their glaring appearance standing out against Ryoma's pale skin. Altogether, they painted the grim, sad picture of Ryoma's fall from grace, the indelible traces of his infamous crime and the years of incarceration, during which he had been crowned Killer Tennis.

Ryoma's voice seemed to echo from somewhere far away. "Quite a sight, right?"

Kirumi blinked, her hand gripping the wet face towel limply. When she tried to speak, her mouth felt dry. "Forgive me, I . . . I don't—" she began, but Ryoma forestalled her as he chuckled softly.

"It's fine," he assured her. "It's not like I can give myself that hot compress, right? Do what you have to do."

"I . . . Are you sure?" Kirumi asked reluctantly.

"A hundred percent," replied Ryoma.

Dipping the face towel in hot water once again to make up for its lost heat, Kirumi still did not feel completely reassured that she was doing the right thing, but she moved dutifully nonetheless. Shifting into a more professional mode of work seemed ideal, if only to dispel the slight discomfiture and reluctance that she was feeling, but another glance at Ryoma's scarred back made her balk once more. Concentrating on steadying her fingers and her poise, she folded the towel and pressed it against the center of Ryoma's shoulder blades. Ryoma let out a relieved sigh, no doubt savoring the sensation of warmth that he was feeling as it soothed his aching muscles. Encouraged by his comfort, Kirumi pushed her palm down gently on the towel and began to massage the muscles beneath, kneading them in a slow, circular motion to ease out the knots in them.

"You're good at that," Ryoma remarked after a while. "Reminds me of those cooldown periods and therapy sessions we'd get after every game or week of training, to help us recover faster."

"Was that how it was when you trained with your fellow players?" asked Kirumi, grateful that there was something to discuss that would keep her focused on something other than his naked torso or the scars on his back.

"Yeah. Our coaches gave us access to a lot of facilities and comforts that would help us deliver on a consistent basis," said Ryoma. "We'd get sent to recovery lounges and spas after long days of practicing, do R&R in these nice hotels and training centers—all supervised and stuff, so that we won't try anything funny. It was pretty neat, though I'm not exactly that big into those kinds of things. Sometimes, just being in my apartment resting for the day is enough, but my old tennis mates loved the R&R. The only thing I availed most of the time was getting massage therapy after training too hard. I was always intense and hell-bent on giving my all, so I pushed myself a lot farther and more often than I needed. I remember how Isabella would always tell me off about that, saying that I'd end up injuring myself or worse."

Kirumi smiled. "She's right about that, you know?"

Ryoma chuckled silently at that. "Yeah, but I never was one to listen to sound advice back then. The adrenaline rush was always good, and the feeling of success when you win matches made it feel even better . . . addicting, to a point. So I'd keep pushing myself, and she'd keep scolding me for overexerting myself. But it was nothing too serious, of course. I knew when it was time to hold back, and she knew that I was only trying hard in order to help myself and my career. If I ended up overexerting myself because of my recklessness and intensity, she'd be there to help me recover."

The fondness in his voice made Kirumi feel for him. The more Ryoma seemed to talk about Isabella, the more she felt like an unwarranted outsider listening in on his most personal thoughts.

"I'm sure that . . . that she would be happy to see you like this now," she told him softly. "To see you picking yourself back up, preparing for what's coming."

Ryoma looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes bearing a mixture of heaviness and appreciation. "You really think so?"

"Yes, I do." Kirumi could not stop herself from smiling again at him. "In spite of everything, I'm sure that she would want you to be happy, to begin moving on from the past and everything that has been holding you down thus far."

Though he seemed likely to once again put himself down for trying, Ryoma seemed to think the better of it. "Maybe, and about time too, don't you think?"

"These things do take a while, especially for those of us who have been through a lot," said Kirumi. "Don't berate yourself for trying so late, Ryoma. Your growth is a good sign, no matter how long it took for you to get it, and especially after everything you've gone through. If you will, it makes me extremely glad that you're starting to take more and more of these steps."

Again, Ryoma glanced at her over his shoulder. "Again, I have you to thank for most of that," he said. "I don't think I can ever appreciate enough everything you continue to do for me. All the support, all the help . . . it's like being with Isabella again, to be honest. But . . . no, I don't know if I should be thinking of it like that," he added with a shake of his head.

As he looked away, Kirumi noticed a faint flush creep into his ears. It was the first time she had seen such a reaction from him, and for some reason, it made her feel more self-conscious than the sight of his bare torso did. She decided to keep her gaze down and continue her work.

Her administered therapy continued for the next half hour, with their talk shifting to minor topics. Kirumi recounted her earlier experiences with Gundham and Teruteru, with Ryoma expressing particular interest in how she had helped Gundham with his stray cat problem. Soon, their talk turned to her experiences with the rest of Class 77-B's denizens, as Ryoma inquired about how often she tended to their duties and whether she was being treated fairly by them and the rest of the student body.

"As long as no one's giving you any trouble, that's good," Ryoma told her. "People can be a little pushy and demanding sometimes."

"I know, but most of it is no trouble to me," said Kirumi as she returned from his bathroom, having gotten a fresh batch of hot water to use. "And even if it gets stressful, it is part of being a maid, I'm afraid. For as long as people need my services, I will do my best to keep delivering, no matter how hard it is to deal with some people."

Ryoma nodded, though his demeanor seemed rather concerned still. "How about free time? You do have free time, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you usually do then?"

Kirumi paused. Admittedly, it was the first time that she had been asked what she does outside of her maid duties. "Not much, to be honest, she replied after a brief while. "My schedule changes depending on how many tasks I need to take care of, but even then, most of my free time starts when I'm back in my room at last, usually after the cafeteria has been closed and the kitchens have been cleaned."

"That's quite late," Ryoma noted.

"That's how it has been for me all this time," Kirumi admitted. "After that, I just read in my room and finish my nightly rituals before going to sleep. It's not the best kind of routine, but it's how my work goes."

Ryoma was silent for a few moments, his eyes looking ponderous as he glanced again at her. "I just hope you don't burn out or anything," he said at last. "The road to September's gonna be a rough one, and there are still the festivals to come before the practical exam. I'm just . . . worried sometimes."

Kirumi looked up from her work. "Worried?"

"For you, of course."

The silence that descended then seemed to outdo the one that had prevailed when Ryoma's scars had been revealed. Kirumi felt her hands fumble for a fleeting moment as she tried to both keep working and dwell on Ryoma's words, seized by an emotion that she could not quite fathom yet. For a long time, no one spoke, and the only sound that pierced through the silence was the sound of Kirumi's hands plunging into the depths of the wash basin once again.

"I know that seems awkward and all, especially from out of the blue like that," Ryoma said at last. "It's just that . . . yours is the one of the most challenging talents around here, and it's nothing short of remarkable that you're delivering on a consistent scale. Just . . . don't forget about yourself too. You're not just some dutiful servant, Kirumi. You're also a good person, and as a friend that you're helping, I hope I can do my part in helping you too when you need it, and in making sure you're okay."

Even though Ryoma said those words in a serious manner, Kirumi could easily feel the sense of concern in them, and for the first time ever, her heart seemed to skip a beat. All throughout her experiences as a maid, she had never encountered anything quite like this, even with all the former employers who had heaped praise on her for her diligence and skill—or even with her schoolmates who treated her as an equal, like Kaede and Shuichi and the others. Perhaps it was the fact that Ryoma's words sounded so personal, so direct, that made them seem quite different from the rest; perhaps it was the fact that, in spite of his scars, his traumatic past and the loss of his loved ones, his heart was still in the right place, even though he seemed unlikely to admit it up front; and when she remembered as well the gifts he had given her before . . .

As she glanced away for a moment, Kirumi could feel a flush creeping into her face. "That . . . That's very kind of you to say, Ryoma," she managed to say, her soft, calm tone belying the discomfiture she was feeling. "I appreciate your concern wholeheartedly. It is more than I would ever expect."

"It's fine," said Ryoma. "You deserve that much, and a lot more."

With that, he turned away, as if too embarrassed by the heartfelt nature of his own words to say anything more. Kirumi smiled and refocused on her work, her movements and gestures filled a renewed sense of purpose, brought along by a feeling of joy that she could scarcely describe.

Fifteen minutes later, everything resumed normally as Kirumi cleaned up after her impromptu therapy session. Ryoma had quickly worn a new prison shirt as soon as they were done, wiping his face and arms clean with the face towel Kirumi had used for his hot compress therapy.

"I hope you're feeling a lot better," Kirumi said.

"Definitely," said Ryoma, setting down the face towel and stretching his arms a little more easily now. "These aches won't give me that much trouble tomorrow after what you did. Thanks."

"You're quite welcome. If you need anything else, you need only ask." Kirumi bowed and turned to pick up her things. As she was about to leave, however, she turned and looked back over her shoulder.

"Ryoma?"

"Yeah?" said Ryoma, looking up at her.

"About those planned dishes Teruteru has cooked for tonight . . . would you like me to bring you some later? Sakura has mentioned a number of times before that a good meal works best after a good workout."

Ryoma stared at her for a few seconds, surprise evident in his eyes. "Is . . . Is that gonna be okay with you?"

Kirumi smiled. "A hundred percent."

A/N: Hello there! I just want to take this time to deliver some news—basically, I was approached by a friend for a copyediting and developmental editing project involving another friend's book, which they wish to have published. Being given the job, I am now juggling between editing said book weekly while trying to write my fanfic chapters on the side (it's also the reason this chapter was delayed for a little longer—it was supposed to be done a week ago, but that was the time my friend talked to me about his project). As such, I have no idea yet as to how severely this might affect my chapter uploads in the future, but I will do my best to keep delivering as I always do. I apologize in advance if future uploads take longer again.

Anyways, that's all for now. I hope this chapter turns in a good read for you all. Stay safe, and see you in the next upload!