Ink Stained

60: kyoto, day four (1)*

"If you were Ayakashi," she mumbled, running her hand up his body so she brushed his fur the wrong way as she petted his forehead again. "You wouldn't let me pet you, would you?"

He mewed in response. She pulled back her hand as he rubbed his head down her cheek before sitting on his haunches to place his paws on her shoulder. She glanced down to see Sato kneading her shoulder, only allowing his claws out just enough to make it feel like he was massaging her.

(It is so, so nice.)

She dropped her hand down so that it was close to her head as she continued to stare vacantly at the trees. Sato continued to work on her shoulder before stopping, shifting closer, and patting her cheek with the pad of his paw. It was the only warning she got before he walked up over her body and sat on top of her, a heavy, warm weight on her chest. He reached over and swiped at her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut as her body locked, expecting pain.

None came. Sato's claws weren't out, and after a few more swipes, she opened her eyes and realized that Sato was playing with her eyelashes. She closed her eyes again and let him continue with his game. It amused him for at least five minutes before he hopped over her head.

She remained as she was, listening to all the sounds around her. In the distance, if she concentrated, she could hear the market, the clamour of people's voices clashing together. Over that was the wind sighing through the sky and rustling the grass and leaves on the trees, birds twittering their sweet songs, water from the gardeners on the other side from her spraying out onto the plants.

You are...strange today. Kuniumi spoke slowly. She was testing the words, like she wasn't used to them, or like she felt that there was something wrong with them.

Pai opened her eyes.

A patch of sunlight shone on her left eye, and she closed it as she pushed herself and sat up. Twisting around without standing, she shifted until her back was braced against the tree and she was facing the garden again. She could see the heads of the gardeners moving about in their business, wearing large straw sunhats to protect from the midday sun.

Why, she asked bluntly.

You are empty. She replied. Normally you try to hide your emotions. You conceal them from your face; bury them from your voice.

And now?

Now you are empty, Kuniumi repeated. Your emotions...it is like they're not here. They are barely here. You're pushing them far away.

There was no point to lying, because Kuniumi would know she was. Kuniumi knew everything about her – from what Pai didn't want anyone else knowing, to what she didn't even remember ever knowing.

It hurts to know I was so close to her and I couldn't get to her. It hurts because she saw me and she didn't stop. Pai swallowed around a lump that stuck in her throat like a rock. She saw me, and she left.

That is what she does. She sees you, and she leaves. She makes you think you know her when you know nothing. It was not a sharp, witty retort. Kuniumi was sad as she spoke the words. She didn't try to hide that sadness as she usually did, in a way that made her feel like Kuniumi was trying to protect her from it. Pai felt the quiet of it wash over her, adding to her own, taking from her own, mixing with her own – becoming her own. You would be better off not dwelling on her. Think of what you have now. Think of the family surrounding you now.