Chereads / Victim of Circumstance: Purposeful Plum Blossom / Chapter 3 - 43: Tsukiyomi's Garden

Chapter 3 - 43: Tsukiyomi's Garden

Sanemaru knocks five times before swinging Umeko's bedroom door open.

Casually pushing in a wood and gold, two tiered cart with large, front wheels, he shuts the door behind him; the girl is happy to stir awake at the curious, savory scent of what she will soon learn to be known simply as 'bacon'. 

Sitting up, she lays eyes on the approaching steed and his eyes that spark with green lightning as he bears gifts of aromatic food and drink. 

Was he that sexy earlier? Nothing seems different on him. . .

Tiny rays of amber from the overhead sea of conical, red-paper lanterns slowly burn brighter until the room beneath the ominous cloud of impenetrable darkness parallels daylight. 

Reaching her bedside with a golden spoke-wheeled cart, Umeko examines the intricate design of a regal, food carrying device; four silver posts are wrapped in golden dragon bodies with red jeweled eyes. A single clawed hand of each grasps one spherical, white crystal orb that supports the round, top tier of oval, lacquered redwood.

Coming to a stop with colorful portions arranged neatly in wood, clay, and metal dishes, he waves with a tender smile that nearly knocks her out, "Gooooood mornin', sis!"

Sanemaru's infectious smile with stubble covered dimples spreads to the corner of her mouth, encouraging a tiny smile to stretch her lips. Ensuring her nightgown is closed tight, she crosses naked legs under floral, red and black blankets with a quiet, "G'mornin' bro." 

Excitedly lifting an oval, silver platter, he sets it beside her on the futon. Casually moving to the other side of the bed to grab a few large, square pillows, Sanemaru works to fluff the solid, red and black fabric filled with buckwheat hull. 

Admiring the display of culinary masterpieces in her reach, she greedily devours bowls of porridge, diced fruit, toasted bread, pickled vegetables, folded eggs, bacon, seaweed salad, and seared salmon with her eyes. 

In the center of the spread sits a black, iron teapot and two matching cups holding fragrant, jasmine green tea; after salivating with anticipation, she swallows hard before glancing up at Sanemaru when he moves behind her to prop up three pillows. 

Grinning at her upon completion of a sturdy, pillowy wall, she relaxes into cloudy comfort with a gracious, sighing smile. Watching him sit in front of her, Umeko bites her bottom lip to minimize a cheesy grin as he settles with crossed legs.

Reaching for his bowl, the unexpected, pleasant scent of winter pine and mountain air fills her nose as he moves. Contrasting the very heat radiating from his body on the other side of the decadent serving tray, she struggles to breathe when he leans in over the food. 

Filling her face with his, "Looking forward to your trip today?"

Raising his eyebrow while returning to a comfortable, upright position, he raises a spoonful of seasoned mush to his lips. Nodding dumbly, Umeko looks at her bowl to keep from being swept away by the striking, grayish pink monsoon filling his irises. Repeating his question in her head, she frowns and takes an unenthused, deep breath. 

Looking away to hide her expression, she snatches the shiny, black fur pelt from beside the pillows and drags it to drape across her lap, "I was but. . .I don't think I wanna go anymore. They're already buried, so. . .what's the point?"

Sanemaru tilts his head and blinks slowly before setting his bowl on the tray then pulling his braided, fire ombre tail into his lap. With a soft persistence, his stormy gaze rises up her body until he manages to make eye contact with the girl's dodgy eyes, "You could go and say goodbye."

Watching the young lady cast a downward gaze at her hands as they stroke silky fur, "Since you didn't get to before."

Without warning, Umeko's body stiffens and her blood begins to boil. Unsure why his suggestion raises her heart rate, bubbling anger from deep within drives her to hang her head in a cognizant attempt to hide a conflicted, dirty glare.

Shrugging and muttering, "What difference would that make?"

Laughing weakly to keep from crying, she snatches her bowl of porridge from the tray, "I know they're gone. I can say goodbye from here. Besides," caught off guard by the smiley face made of sunnyside up eggs and bacon in her porridge, a tear falls from her cheek and runs down golden yolk before she can recall her train of thought.

"Going won't bring them back. . .or fill this giant hole in my chest," sucking in sharp air while clutching the silk crossing over her heart, she closes her eyes, "I miss them so much it hurts my soul," she whispers angstfully. 

Sniffling, she shakes her head and her face goes blank. Cupping the warm, wooden bowl in her lap with both hands, she loses the strength to look at him again. 

Eyeing her silently for a short while, Sanemaru nods before setting his bowl on the tray then gathering her bowl from submissive hands to set it down. Careful not to disturb the stable platter, he crawls to her side. 

Wrapping a powerful arm around the back of her shoulders, "When I start to miss people I've lost," guiding her close to his chiseled body, "I remember they exist through my memories," he kisses her temple. 

Balling his free fist confidently in front of his chest, "As long as I keep living, telling their stories and doing the things they missed out on," he fist bumps the air. Umeko watches the humanoid horse speak with an air of nostalgia, "I can turn them into legends," his low voice vibrates his chest.

Rocking her gently, "Yeah," he kisses the side of her head on top of her hair, "I might not be able to see some of their faces anymore, or hug them like this," he gives her a good, comforting squeeze and soothing shake, "But they're not gone." 

Shifting to cradle her chin in his fingertips and guide her feminine face to meet his, a half-smile reveals one of his dimples, "They transformed into something new, better, and more amazing, because they were needed somewhere else in another form to do something only they could do." 

Nodding with a serene smile with the power to stoke the dying embers of her hope, "Eventually we all meet up again, in flesh or spirit, and our time apart will be a distant memory to laugh about."

How's he so thoughtful. . .? I can't believe a wave cutting yokai is trying to cheer me up!

Sucking on her lips, nodding quietly, she nestles into him and wraps her arms around his waist. 

I want to believe him-- he seems so sure. It's a nice thought that makes this hurt a little less. If something as old as him thinks we're reunited in death, it must be true. Right. . .? 

Readjusting her head in the crook of his tender, muscular shoulder, tears leap from all corners of her eyes.

Even though I've got Lord Tsukiyomi. . .sort of. . .I know there's no way I'd survive without this sweet weirdo. 

After a moment of silence followed by sniffles, he rubs her back in circles, "I've got an idea." 

Petting her head until she relaxes completely, he cradles her skull gently in reliable, massive fingers. Smiling non-judgmentally as the storm in his eyes breaks to reveal a calming gray, "Why don't you take your time and finish up while I get caught up on some other stuff?" 

Raising her head in surprise, a thankful forlorn washes over her face. Joints popping as he moves to stand, "It's just after sunrise so," picking up only his bowl and teacup from the tray, "No rush. I'll be back later."

Appreciative he understands emotions that are foreign even to her, she nods while wiping her eyes with shaky fingers. 

Drying her nose with her sleeve, she watches him gather a few more bowls from the cart before heading to the door. 

Comedically balancing his food as he manages to open and close the door with his toes, cinnamon eyes scan the remaining food filling the cart then sighs heavily.

Most of that will go to waste. . .and there's people dying over grains right now, I'm sure of it.

Finding the weight of reality as it forces her to accept that everything is hard for everyone, she glances around the bedroom granted to her. Knowing this is the day she finally says goodbye to the stolen home that made this new life possible, she tries to figure out where the strength to keep moving forward is hiding since circumstances keep pushing her forward.

Unable to turn back time, her mind drifts to the past as she re-examines the blessing of her safe yet unsafe, surreal surroundings. Sitting in an exceptionally large, five person, plush futon laying in the center of the round room, she's blanketed with thick, red and black fabrics.

A mountain of scattered, matching pillows of various shapes and sizes are stitched with beaded, black trees. Some hold beaded flowers of red or white on contrasting backgrounds, and others are trees in a circle of roots. 

Sheer, red fabric adorned with translucent matching beads dangle along the borders. Pitched like a three-point, indoor tent, it hangs from the ceiling through a pool of lanterns that only shine down away from the darkness. Elegant netting bunches at the floor to surround the futon with a wide, parted opening facing the door beyond the cart.

Umeko's watering eyes struggle to accept a room that is more than five times the size of her family's old home is all hers. A ten-panel, gold folding screen partially blocks the tall and wide, standing wooden chests along the decorated, stone wall. 

Spanning across the back half of the circular room's wall is a painted mural of snow-capped mountain-sides under sunset skies that taper to darkness filled with sparkling, crystal stars, a moonstone disc, and illuminated galaxy clusters that stretch around to the front inside of the room around the only door.

At the back of the room sits piles of plain, beaded, and tasseled, multi-color floor cushions on and around two plain, brown benches with four legs equally spaced far apart. Sitting between them rests a red cushioned, six legged, wooden chaise with a floral carved, wooden frame. Each seat has accompanying side tables with bound scrolls and vases of pink and purple orchids. 

As she faces the door from where she sits, a white, barrel stool and wide, matching table with a grand, silver mirror rests near the large, curved wall to her left. The white table painted with greenery and a rainbow of flowers carries small, ceramic containers of different colors containing various items including hair and makeup accessories. 

Slow to move as she fights an unnatural exhaustion, Umeko eventually makes her way out of bed. Sliding in her white socks across oiled, dark wood, she passes the folding screen to reach her wardrobe. 

Staring at five black doors with brass hardware knobs, she pulls the middle one open. Revealing a red interior painted with white blossoms on black branches, she eyes the space filled with silk, hemp, and cotton gowns of every color folded neatly on shelves. Thumbing through, she discovers stitched images of peacocks, fire-birds, flowers, and medallions. 

Opening the next door, she finds cotton and hemp gowns of different lengths for working in: plain black, white, pink, red, and purple fabrics with different belts and ankle length, pleated skirts. Behind the third door is soft, plain linen in white and pastel shades for under the gowns. 

A few black trousers are folded neatly on the inside floor of her standing closet. The fourth door hides wooden shelves organized with folded socks of every color, linen wrap for her chest and groin, and distinct types of footwear for many occasions.

Touching all the shoes, she has a hard time deciding on which pair to wear; indecisive fingertips graze the textures of woven sandals, wooden flip-flop clogs, and elevated wood with toe thong straps. 

Umeko picks out a dress, undergarments, thigh-high, white socks, and black thong sandals before making her way to the door. Setting the shoes down on the inside, she peeks her head into the hall and looks both ways to confirm she's alone. Cautiously heading left into the royal hall towards the throne with full arms, she runs diagonally to the right until she safely arrives at the second wooden door without running into a possibly possessed Tsukiyomi or vengeful Mizuki. 

Carefully peeling off one of her dirty, ankle high, white socks using only her feet, she uses her toes to drape the fabric around Tsukiyomi's private bathing chambers' large, black metal knob.

I know he said to do this so he knows not to enter but. . .would it really stop Ryu?

Shrugging away her worries since her situation is far outside her control or understanding, Umeko attempts to turn the knob with her toes to prevent dropping anything on the floor. 

How the duck did Sane get mine open with only his foot?

An annoyed grumble seethes behind closed lips before she leans into the wood to trap her clothes in place. Masterfully feeling around for the best grip, she grasps and turns the mighty knob until the door gives. 

Getting a firmer grip on her belongings, she pushes the arched, wooden door open; instantly reminded of the mystical beauty hidden within his stone palace, she's immersed in soft pink light. High above is a gigantic, domed ceiling painted with vibrant colors depicting a realistic, open sky with a sun and moon that rotates languidly through the cycle of night and day. 

The sun is closest to her at the front of the room with hues of warm peach, orange, and blue. Fluffy, white clouds drift by the lazy sun, sending tiny rays to the transitioning night sky. Winged children of every shade floats in the scene above: sleeping, playing, and performing different talents as their giggles, laughter, and rejuvenating music fill the air. On each side of her lays peach-stone with gold flecks that stretch to the back of the room around an enormous, indoor pool of water. 

Bee-lining to the water's edge closest to the door, her footsteps echo quietly along the translucent white path with pale blue flecks that lead to the bath and forms its entire border. Encompassed by open, circular walls of pink rock salt that purifies the air, sweating minerals glow in the amber light from golden-trio, white candlestick holders. 

A thick rope hanging from the ceiling anchors sheer baby blue, rose pink, and cream fabrics scattered throughout the vast, in-floor, stone tub. 

Large enough to fit dozens of people swimming laps, she smiles at the flush, stone border of the tub blending seamlessly with steaming water. 

Every corner has a gold folding screen with red blossoms on black branches. Stacked neatly behind them are a few copper chamber pots and round, wooden stands holding brown baskets of folded, white fabric. Spaced evenly apart across the back half of the room are gold benches with red and black upholstery.

Placing her fresh clothes on the nearest bench, she strips naked then walks to the water. Parting the cascading materials coming down from above, net-like fabric grazes the water's surface creating gentle ripples.

Stepping onto the highest and most visible, submerged step, she pushes aside red and yellow flowers that float by. Descending textured stairs that delve deeper into healing waters, she ventures into the steaming pool until she can sit comfortably with water to her chin. 

Thinking of all that was, is, and may come to pass, she loses track of time in the ethereal comfort of Tsukiyomi's home spa. 

Umeko bathes after returning to her senses then gets dressed before hurrying back to her room. 

Sitting down on the ceramic stool to her vanity, she contemplates the kind of makeup and hairstyle she will wear.

Toffee flesh, adorned in ankle-length, black silk and wrist length bell sleeves, has pink lotus flowers stitched down the back. Umeko's gown is tied by an uneven, matte silver belt that is flat across her stomach and drapes as a bow on her lower back with sashes that curl to the backs of her thighs. 

Fumbling to paint her lips with trembling hands, she tries to match the pink on her dress to paint all her focus points in the lantern light. Playing with the variety provided for her, Umeko decorates her face, eyes, cheeks, and lips before she takes in her reflection.

Finding herself staring blankly at the mirror for an unknown amount of time, she comes back from far away. Shaking her head at her own reflection in flawless silver, a frustrated, groaning sigh escapes glossy lips. 

Patting over thick, black hair bound in a bun by pink ribbons, loose locks twirl down painted cheeks. Pink powder colors brown, fluttering eyelids before the young woman inhales life back into her supple, youthful face. 

Exhaling slowly, she looks at bronze features dusted with varying shades of pink and black.

Mom told me the lotus means enlightenment; though it grows in murky waters, it rises from a place of uncertainty to bring its resilient beauty to the world.

Eyelids lowering as she focuses on the sound of her mother's voice, her spicy warmth, and hair that smelled like smoke from every meal, Umeko's eyes burn until tears are birthed. 

Jittery hands reach for a round, pink paper fan on her table's surface. Hoping to dry the liquid emotion before they have a chance to fall and smudge her makeup, "I don't know if this looks stupid."

Slouching disheartened, "I don't even know if I put the right stuff in the right place. . ."

Grimacing the longer she stares at every pore, blemish, clump and curve of her petite face, "I look stupid." 

My first time here was the first time I had this stuff on my face and Mizuki made me look so pretty I wanted to try it. I need to feel beautiful. . . 

Grumbling, "But I do know one thing," she crosses her arms and clenches her jaw in a pout. 

"I'm so fu--reaking tired of crying!"

Why do I still hate using words they told me not to use? . . .it's not like they can yell at me about it anymore. . . 

Shouting at her mirror, "Stop messing up my face you stupid FUCKING tears!"

Throwing her wood and paper fan at the polished, metal disc, all she gains is a jarring GONG that echoes throughout her room. 

Wincing at the sudden noise, she nervously peers around the room before sighing. 

Silencing her thoughts while taking a few deep breaths, Umeko regains enough of her control to carefully pat her eyes dry without smearing any eyeliner or blush.

I have no idea what I'm doing. It's not like they care what I look like-- they're dead. I hope none of them hate me for surviving. . .'cause if I had my choice. . .Kyo or Shinta would've made it instead. They were SUPPOSED to have their whole lives ahead of them.

Hanging her head and breathing deep, a loud sniffle drives her to remember her purpose as her lungs fill with air.

I'm alive for a reason. . .and I made a promise to myself to help Tsukiyomi since he helped me. I can't stay like this forever! I can't even help him if I can't help myself. So. . .time to get up and be strong, Ume.

Unenthusiastically getting up, she drags her feet to the door. Collecting the wooden shoes into her hands, she sticks her head into the hall. Finding no one in sight, she whispers inquisitively, "Sane?" 

She looks to the right and finds shut, double doors with a carved dragon's head staring back at her. 

Turning her head to the left, she searches the hall leading to Tsukiyomi's gold and silver throne, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

I guess I could pick some flowers until he comes back.

Indecisively grumbling, she sneaks along the wall like a mouse to avoid a potentially Ryu-possessed-Tsukiyomi. 

Determined to reach the last door on the left, a long, indoor trek finally brings her to the fantastical stone alcove.

Astonished to discover the wooden door, a floating, three dimensional tree encompassing itself in arching roots lives safely apart from the rest of the world. Reaching to touch the multi-dimensional looking image, finding her fingers sliding along a smooth, flat surface displaying only an illusion, the door suddenly swings open to reveal blinding light.

What the–?!  

Her heart jumps into her throat when she locks eyes with the banished moon god as his body almost completely fills the shortest, narrowest doorway in the entire hall. Shakily withdrawing her hand and placing it at her side, she fails a proper bow to drink him in from head to toe instead.

Realizing what she's doing after the sound of his voice brings her back to protocol, "Human." 

Speaking plainly with an airy nod, his word choice plucks a painfully shrill string in her heart.

There's his favorite word again. . .

Although she wishes he could muster more emotion for her, anxiety recedes at the familiar, somehow comforting, blank expression. Remaining weary, she notices his opposing gaze explores every inch of her in return. 

Sky blue hair, wild and free about his shoulders, is seasoned with scattered, black streaks. Dressed unusually bare in a white, wrap-tie jacket with stitched, blue feathers around his neck and down the sleeves, Tsukiyomi's open robe above the blue belt reveals a sculpted chest and abs. Scales creep along his right collar bone, drawing in her scrutinization.

Cinnamon eyes soon fall to the V above loosely tied, grass-stained, white trousers and bare feet.

"Your heart carries concern. What a curious emotion to hold for," he pauses and blinks slowly, "An Affliction." 

With no variant in his apathetic tone, he looks beyond her and steps forward.

I hate that he has to pretend to be something he's not. It's not fair!

"Lord Tsukiyomi?"

Blue socked feet pause at the sound of her voice as the mystical mountain's master remains in place.

Speaking to his cascading ponytail, "I just uhm. . .wanted you to know that, I--," stopping a stutter, "Uhm," her gaze naturally drops to the curve of his butt. 

"I'm happy to give you another massage," cinnamon eyes widen before hastily returning to the crown of his skull. Blocking any chance of being caught in a momentary search for words, "When you're feeling," interlocking fingers behind her back with an anxious smile, "Better."

Tsukiyomi casts a silver-blue eye upon her from just over his shoulder. Catching a glimpse of the apple of his cheek, she gulps. 

Closing his eyes and facing forward with a shallow breath, he nods once. Finding a sense of relief from her lord's usual coolness, her eyes can't break away until he disappears down the hall and into his study. With a dreamy sigh, she swoons with her hands clasped above her heart.

. . . such a beautiful man. 

Clearing her throat, thankful Sanemaru didn't appear out of nowhere to catch her dreamy daze, she drops her arms and shakes it off. 

Facing the arched, pewter alcove filled with blinding sunlight, she crosses into a sensation that makes her feel like she's in a whole new world. 

Stunned into a gasping breath, she pushes the door shut behind her during a slow spin away from the entrance in wonder. Discovering an arched wooden frame around the ordinary, rickety looking door with a rusted, round knob, her puzzlement fades. Swollen, sun-bleached oak is built into a mountain wall covered in green moss and leafy vines. 

Standing tall in a perfectly picturesque landscape of lofty green blades and an endless rainbow as far as the eye can see, her surroundings enliven a dwindling spirit; encompassed by purity and peace, she feels the fire of life kindling brighter within her soul.

New and foreign birds' melodies fill the air as she watches infinite springs sparkle by, in every direction with branching trails that connect for a while then parts ways to branch into something bigger. 

Every tree in sight, regardless of its stage of life, nurtures flowers, fruit, or nuts; bushes of beautifully sweet, colorful treats stand in clusters spaced evenly apart. Patches and shrubs of flowers along the many streams of water grow together in aromatic waves below a serene blue, cloud-filled sky.

Does he have power over the sky too? 

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, her lungs fill with the crisp air of a non-productive spring morning; thinking of her life as a farm girl, she doesn't miss the back-breaking work of a full harvest or toting around over-filled baskets of linen to and from the best spot of the river to be cleaned. 

Feeling born anew in a sea of equilibrium, Umeko finds herself unshackled from the oppressing anxiety, exhaustion, grief, and helplessness that's enslaved her since she was first led here.

Now I know why he was just here.

Moseying to the nearest, widebody of running water, she skims past her reflection; aquatic creatures the likes of which she's never seen draws her in. Some have scales so bright they glow with the sun's light they capture. Others have transparent bodies with visible organ structures through their backs as they swim. Vibrant, iridescent fish that whistle jump high into the air startle the girl backwards. 

Stealing glimpses of their quick flips and melodic bursts, she witnesses one stride along the surface on its tail until it sinks without a splash.

If I'm not dreaming, then I'm dead. Nothing about this place or these people can be real! 

Umeko's cheeks flood with blood. Growing hot to the unwarranted, freely flashing mental images of every instance she's seen Tsukiyomi's naked physique, she sucks her lips in against her teeth while furrowing her brow.

If I am dead, it's not an entirely hateful afterlife. . .being here with Him.

Eyelids drooping, "I know I'm alive because," trying not to think too hard, "Our pain and suffering is too real to exist anywhere else."

A rainbow fish flutters in the water with feather-like fins, snapping her out of a depressing haze. Deciding it best not to stick a hand in, she turns to follow along the consistently large patches of dry land filled with flowers and trees. 

Dark eyes bounce from every sprouting life she happens upon. Aimlessly exploring the fields in search of the best ones to pick, she relishes in the different scents, shapes, colors, and nostalgia of familiar plants. Learning of the pain that a thorny stem with alluring, vibrant petals brings, she suddenly stops at bushes of 'happy sunshine'.

A burst of yellow chrysanthemums in bloom sprouts from many bushes all around, having seemingly snuck up on her. Feeling her heartbeat soften at the sight of golden longevity, she kneels into the grass. Plucking the most beautifully spirited one with red peeking from its heart, she raises it to her nose.

Inhaling the spicy, earthy herb, I never thought something like THIS could happen. Why's. . .this. . .the last time I get to apologize. To tell them I love them. 

". . .to tell them good-bye. . ." 

Sighing to battle the strength of her lids to restrain the sting of developing tears, "If I have any say in it," she delicately retrieves each one in sight.

"Every soul that was taken that night deserves eternal health and wealth, wherever they are." 

Sinking deeper into the trap of a grieving mind, her hands remain focused on gathering one flower for every loved one that life is forcing her to let go of, whether she was ready to or not. Balling her fist and slamming it into the cushiony earth, "Why were their futures STOLEN like that?!" 

Hunching to dig her fingers in, "Did it. . ."

Staring up at the sky, her hands in the ground, "DID IT HAVE TO BE LIKE THAT?!"

Lowering her gaze from the seemingly unbothered forces above, she clutches rich, damp soil in desperation, "I don't wanna see what's left." 

The longer she recalls the far away memories from days ago, her nose stings with the essence of tears. Sniffling, "Bandits are known to leave villages burned to the ground without survivors." 

Frozen, eyes widening into discs, she's almost too scared to whisper, "Survivors. . .?"

Blinking hard, she stares off in the distance.

My brothers. Dad. Grandma! Maybe even my friends could've made it! 

Whispering in awe, "Of course!" 

It only makes sense. I got out. If I could. . . 

"Couldn't they?!"

Umeko comes to her senses when she feels something behind her. Spinning into a crouch to face it, she locks eyes with none other than Sanemaru. 

Sighing disgruntled, she shakes her head and stands normal.

"Sorry, sis!"

Closing his eyes with a mischievous grin, "Didn't mean to sneak up on ya." 

Smoothing out her clothes, she raises an eyebrow. 

Reaching behind his head to pat brilliant, fire ombre, mohawk coils, he stares at the pile of yellow blooms beside her, "Are those for your kin?"

"Yeah, I want to put one on each grave when I pray for their souls to reach Brahma," stumbling over her words, "I mean. . .Takamagahara." 

Umeko follows his gaze to the limp pile of chrysanthemums that manage to cast a tiny shadow.

That's where they went since that's what they believed in. And I'd give anything to end up in the same place. Fuck! Even the stupid flowers look sad.

Speaking up when she pouts angrily at her meticulously neat pile, "Umeko," stepping closer, "Can I ask you something?"

Catching him nearly turn away when she raises her head to look at his stubbled jaw, a sense of discomfort creeps over her. 

"O. . .kay?"

Sanemaru cups her shoulder in his right hand then slides his hand down her satin sleeve until he can gather her hand in his. Removing the short distance between them in a single step, his shoulders round to bring his face close.

Sanemaru stares intensely into chocolate eyes. 

 ". . .do you love me?"