Chapter 4 - SMOKE BETWEEN US

SMOKE BETWEEN US

Dinner stretched on in silence, the clink of cutlery louder than it should’ve been. I kept my head down, pretending to focus on the food, but every few minutes my eyes betrayed me, darting up just long enough to catch the line of Master Asami’s jaw or the way the candlelight softened his expression.

One glance too many. Too long. He caught me.

Our eyes locked, and my chest tightened. My pulse hammered in my ears, heat rushing to my face. He didn’t look away.

Instead, he drew a slow breath, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile. “Did you enjoy working in the garden, Ichinose?”

My name on his lips nearly undid me. I fumbled for words.

“Yes—yes, I enjoyed it a lot. I wanted to fix those withered plants… If it’s alright, maybe next time you go downtown, you could… buy fertilizer.”

He hummed, thoughtful. “I’ll do that. I need to buy flowers anyway.”

That surprised me enough to glance up. His expression had softened. “For my mother. It’s the fortieth day since her passing.”

The words lingered, heavier than anything else said tonight. My chest tightened. “I’m… sorry, Master Asami.”

He gave a small nod, brushing it off with the calm ease he always wore. But then his gaze flicked back to me, sharper now, a glint of mischief returning.

“Though I admit, you seem almost more worried about the plants than about me.”

My throat went dry. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh?” His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You’ve been very… attentive tonight.”

Blood rushed to my ears. “I wasn’t—”

He leaned back, sipping from his glass like he had all the time in the world. “Relax, Ichinose. It’s just dinner.”

But the way he said just dinner—the weight he put on it—made it sound like anything but.

I scrambled to pick up my chopsticks again, hands clumsy. My heart hadn’t slowed in the slightest.

And when I risked another look, he was still watching me. Calm. Unbothered. Like he knew exactly what kind of storm he’d stirred inside me.

“Okay, let’s do that on Saturday. I don’t have work then.” Asami rose smoothly from his chair, his gaze lingering on me before flicking toward the maids. “You can accompany me. I’ll need good flowers anyway.”

The maids froze mid-motion, eyes darting between us. Asami noticed, his tone crisp as he added, “Once you’re finished, clean up and rest for the night.”

“Yes, Master,” they murmured in unison.

Then his eyes returned to me. “When you’re done, join me on the balcony. I’d like to hear more about your ideas for the garden.”

He didn’t wait for an answer—just turned, slipping a cigarette from his pocket as he walked away, the scent of smoke already trailing faintly in the air.

I nodded, pulse quickening. The maids were staring at me now, curiosity written all over their faces. One even raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking what I’d done to deserve such attention.

I forced a smile. “Thank you for dinner. It was… delicious.”

Their whispers followed me out, but I ignored them, each step carrying me closer to the balcony where Asami waited.

Asami leaned against the railing, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers, smoke curling into the night air. His eyes didn’t leave me as I stepped closer.

“It might be good if you come with me,” he said casually. “You’ll know which fertilizers are best for the plants. I don’t know much about the kind they sell here.”

I shifted awkwardly, unsure where to stand. “If… if that’s what you want, Master Asami.”

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, lips curving just slightly. “Mm. That’s what I want. Though I wonder if you always agree this easily… or only with me.”

My throat tightened. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh?” His tone dipped into playful. “You’ve been stealing glances at me all evening. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

My heart lurched. “I wasn’t—”

He cut me off with a soft chuckle. “Careful, Ichinose. You’re a terrible liar.”

Heat climbed up my neck. I turned my face toward the garden, pretending to admire the shadows between the plants. “I was just… checking if you were enjoying your food.”

“Mm.” Another long drag from his cigarette. His eyes slid over me like he was savoring the moment. “Then I’ll have to eat with you more often.”

That made my pulse stumble. I wasn’t sure if he was joking, or if he meant it. Probably both.

He flicked the ash over the railing, gaze still locked on me. “Relax, Ichinose. I’m only teasing.”

But the smile tugging at his mouth, the deliberate way he held my eyes, told me there was more in his teasing than I was ready to admit.

He still hadn’t looked away. And as I moved toward the chair beside him, I could feel that steady gaze, like he was studying me more than listening to his own words.

Asami leaned against the railing, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers, smoke curling into the night air. His eyes didn’t leave me as I stepped closer.

Asami lit his cigarette with a flick, the ember glowing before he drew in a slow breath. Smoke curled from his lips, drifting lazily into the night. He tilted his head, exhaling deliberately toward me, shaping it into loose rings as if he were showing off.

“I know a store that sells good fertilizer,” he said, amusement tugging at his mouth. “An acquaintance of mine owns it. If we buy in bulk, he’ll give us a discount. Consider that my contribution to your project.”

I blinked, unsure whether to be more flustered by his generosity… or the fact that he was blowing smoke in my direction like it was some kind of game.

“Also,” he added smoothly, “thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

The words were simple, but the way he said them—eyes fixed on me—made my pulse skip.

For a moment, he fell quiet. His gaze shifted toward the dark garden, though something in it looked far away, not present. “When I was a child, I lived here with my mother,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I used to call for my older brother all the time… but I can’t recall his face anymore.”

The sudden softness in his voice caught me off guard. Vulnerability, raw and unpolished, flickered there before he blinked it away.

He turned back to me, eyes sharp again, as if nothing had happened. “Tell me, Ichinose—do you know anyone who’s worked here for more than ten years? Someone like you?”

My brow furrowed. “Not exactly. A few of the uncles retired when they got too old to continue. That’s all I know.”

He studied me, unreadable, and I couldn’t tell if my answer satisfied him or not.

I shrugged, trying to mask my own unease. Why is he so interested in old workers? Retirement? Compensation? None of this should concern me.

But the intensity in his eyes as he smoked told me it wasn’t about paperwork.

The cigarette burned low, smoke curling between us, thick with things unsaid.

They both flicked the last of their cigarettes into the ashtray, the glow fading. Asami parted his lips to speak—

“Sir, the room is ready on the second floor,” Aisha interrupted gently, stepping onto the balcony. She turned to me, her tone warm. “Please feel free to use it any time now. We know you worked hard in the garden today.”

“Thank you for preparing it,” Asami replied smoothly. His gaze lingered on me even as Aisha and the helper bowed out.

The moment the door clicked shut, the quiet returned.

I felt it before I saw it—that weight of being watched. When I finally turned, Master Asami was staring straight at me, a faint smile curving his mouth. The kind of smile that suggested he wanted to ask something, but wasn’t saying it yet.

My chest tightened. I forced a smile back, reaching for another cigarette to mask my nerves. Anything to keep my hands busy. Keep your distance, Ichinose. Don’t let yourself get drawn in.

The night breeze whispered across the balcony, filling the silence between us. Neither of us spoke. The quiet stretched, heavy, charged—until my own tongue betrayed me.

“You really forget, huh?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. My heart lurched, shock flooding me. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, hadn’t meant for him to hear. But he was right there. Close enough. Too close.

And his smile hadn’t faded.

I turned my head toward him, heart thudding, to check if he’d heard. But Asami was busy blowing out smoke, watching it curl into the air like it held his attention more than me.

Relief washed over me. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. I muttered under my breath, barely audible, “Forget it anyway…”

“Ichinose,” his voice cut in, smooth and sudden, “are you busy on Friday? Or this weekend?”

My stomach dropped. Had he heard? My fingers tightened around the cigarette as I tried to steady my voice.
“I… don’t recall having work on the weekend. Why? Is something broken again? Curtain racks this time?”

It came out more defensive than I meant. He only smiled, unbothered.

I remembered I had plans with Apollo that day, but the thought of refusing never even formed fully. If Master Asami asked, I would cancel without question.

“Good,” he said simply. “Then it’s a date on Saturday. We’ll go for the garden supplies.”

My breath hitched. Date. He’d said it so casually, like it meant nothing. But the weight of the word landed heavy in my chest.

He took one last drag, eyes flicking toward me, unreadable. “And afterward, I’ll open a bottle of wine. It’s dull drinking alone.”

The way he said it—calm, deliberate—made it sound less like an invitation, more like a quiet command.

And all I could do was nod, praying my face wasn’t betraying just how much his words unsettled me.

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To be continued...