A ritual to fill the time

Tomoe had taken most of the enforcers with her, including those who had worked on the investigation alongside Atsunori. Until they returned, he could only wait.

That afternoon, as soon as they step inside the estate grounds, the Mistress turns toward him and approaches with silent steps.

"Come."

Not saying a word, Atsunori obeys. Tightness settles in his stomach, though he makes sure it doesn't show.

A brief shudder runs through him—they are heading to the Main House.

Servants bow. Doors open.

Soon, the ever-mesmerizing gaze of the First's portrait greets him, easing his worries for a moment. The First shares the Mistress's piercing eyes, yet there's something… gentler in the painted face.

The doors part, splitting the image in two, and a breath of incense spills from the silent chamber beyond. Atsunori steps inside and kneels in his place. The Mistress follows, setting a cushion nearer the front—nearer the Elders.

"Welcome, Tomoe and Atsunori," an Elder opens. "Please, tell us the purpose of your visit."

Tomoe bows slowly, letting the silence tighten before she speaks.

"I would like to formally request that Atsunori be relieved of his position as leader of the Kairi issue."

Atsunori's jaw drops, barely avoiding making a sound.

The Elder shows no reaction. "Why would you ask such a thing? We believed you had good trust in him."

"I do. However, I have come to realize he is not the correct person for this task, especially after the last operation." Her voice remains perfectly steady, giving nothing away. "Once he learned the identity of our enemy, his emotions weakened his resolve."

The Elder blinks slowly, then turns to the one to his left.

"It is truly heartbreaking," the second Elder says. "But that boy has shown how far he is willing to go to harm us. We cannot afford mercy, even toward him. Atsunori, raise your head."

A command that pulls his chin upwards.

"Tell me," the Elder continues, "do you believe you can face Kairi with no remorse or hesitation?"

As much as it would hurt him, Atsunori can answer with only the truth. "I regret to say it, but I cannot."

"That is understandable," another elder, Yorinobu, says. "Do not see this as weakness or shame. It only proves that you possess a gentle heart." A pause. "But I'm afraid Tomoe is correct. Young Atsunori is not suited for this matter."

The final elder speaks. "Do you object to being relieved from your charge in this task?"

He does—many times over—but none of his reasons are rational or strong enough to voice.

"I do not."

"Very well. Please leave us while we discuss the remaining details with Mistress Tomoe."

The verdict comes a short while later: he is not just removed from the operation entirely—he's reassigned to patrol the estate. It feels like a personal punishment. Tomoe knows how much he despises guard duty.

Of course, the Mistress will take care of Kairi from now on.

Probably for the best.

Because of Atsunori's plan, two Munakata were dead, and two more lay in the hospital, their doctor already pushed to her limit. Meanwhile, he walked away without a scratch thanks to his power.

That night could have been the end. If he had let Kairi fall… even at the cost of his own life.

But he chose wrong. He doesn't deserve any more chances.

"There is one last matter only you can handle. If you feel any remorse for your failure, give it everything and succeed," Tomoe said before vanishing on her quest for Kairi. Days will pass before she returns.

There is only one thing she could be referring to: Avery.

He should talk with her, he really should.

But every time he hovers over her number, his fingers refuse to press the call button. Instead, he closes it, leaves it for later and buries himself in his patrol—pointless work, a ritual to fill the time.

Minutes stretch into hours.

Avery calls. He watches it ring, lets it die out, then returns to his task.

Hours stretch into days.

Despite not leaving the estate, the news still reaches him. Outside, the city reels: Kairi's face splashed across posters, news screens, radio waves.

But that doesn't concern him. It does not touch him. He must work. Make himself useful. Keep busy. Keep empty.

Avery calls relentlessly day after day, each missed ring sinking him deeper into work until, eventually, he starts leaving the phone at home.

Only Elder Yorinobu interrupts him in the days that follow. A brief conversation, yet one that sinks like a dagger he can't pull free. When it ends, Atsunori apologizes—then throws himself into anything and everything to erase it from his mind, as if it had never happened.

By the time days stretch into a week, frost edges one of the ponds during his morning patrol—a sign winter is creeping in.

Two weeks remain before Avery leaves for good.

"Pull yourself together." A fragile murmur, barely there, barely heard—even by him.

Nothing changes.

His patrol continues for the rest of the morning—same path, same steps, the exact same routine he's followed for the last week, and will likely follow until—

"Hi, hi!"

"What the—" The sudden voice makes him slip on the mud. He falls backwards with a dull thud, mouth hanging open as he stares at the cheeky brat standing over him.

"You know, I'd normally apologize for startling you." Her head tilts to one side as her grin widens. "But you're the first person who's ever ghosted me, and that kind of hurt my feelings."

Atsunori knows he should be angry—it would be the most appropriate reaction.

Yet not even irritation rises.

Instead, something strange and unexpected takes hold.

Is this… relief?

"Usually it's the other way around," she continues. "Wait, that makes me sound terrible. Anyway, you look like you need a break. Do you need a break?" She holds out her hand.

After a brief pause, he takes it.

"How did you get here?" Bafflement overwhelms his other emotions. "You're not supposed to come unless you're ready to give your answer to the Elders."

"I made friends with the new guards. Though I miss the twins." She hums. "Any idea when Ichijo's getting back from the hospital?"

"You… are you dumb?"

Her answer is to stick out her tongue and tap her head lightly, as if testing it.

An exasperated sigh slips out of him.

He should throw her out.

She knows he won't.

"I have work to do," he says finally. "Just… don't cause trouble."

"Oki-doki."

She falls into step beside him as he resumes his patrol. He meant for her to stay somewhere in the estate—not to trail him like this—but he can only blame himself for the oversight.

Just a few days, and I've already forgotten how her mind works—letting her play me again.

No more words pass between them as they move forward. She simply walks at his side, so quiet he occasionally checks to make sure she's still there.

It remains the same routine Atsunori has followed for days. Her presence barely alters it.

And yet, it feels nothing like before.

Maybe her company—no, maybe any company—was exactly what he needed. The thought is almost embarrassing in its simplicity, but he can't deny it.

"Thank you."

His words surprise them both, breaking an hour of silence.

"Why?" Behind her question, she's barely holding back another smile. "I didn't do anything. Actually, I was worried I was being annoying."

"For once, you weren't."

"Aww, I'm glad to—wait. For once?"

A small smile tugs at his lips at her reaction.

Avery's mock irritation fades, her expression softening. "So, whatcha wanna do? We can keep walking if you want."

"No, that's enough for now." A glance at the sky. "It's almost lunch."

Then he looks at her. "And we have things to talk about."

I don't even know where to start…

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"How about with what's going on between you and that Kairi guy everyone's losing their minds over?" Avery says as soon as the servants leave them alone with their food.

"No, that's irrelevant. We have more important matters to discuss."

"I disagree." The shrimp in her hand jabs in his direction. "If anything, that's the most relevant thing. Or is something else the reason you're depressed?"

"Don't call it that. You're making light of the real thing."

"Still, it is why you've been ignoring my calls, right?"

"No. The reason is that I failed my duties." His jaw tightens. "I allowed my memories of Kairi to weaken my resolve."

Chewing thoughtfully, she stares at him. "I'm not convinced. But even by your logic, Kairi's still the root of all this." She drains her tea in one gulp. "So go on. Spill it. You don't exactly have anyone else to talk to."

"Stop testing your luck." The words are meant with authority, menace even.

Her response is a careless lift of her shoulders.

"Atsun, this is the kind of stuff you're supposed to let out instead of running away."

Tension coils in his brow, the weight of his restraint almost visible.

The tone, the attitude—so disrespectful, so irritating. She deserves to be corrected, reprimanded—or at least called out.

Instead, he exhales.

"Fine," he says at last.