Chapter 56: Hitomi’s Strategy

You looked at the pink round cakes.

They were too flat to be sakura mochi, and had no leaves, so they weren’t quite daifuku either.

He picked one up and took a bite.

Sweet but not cloying, rich with a creamy fragrance, and it melted on the tongue.

His eyes lit up, and he took two more bites.

“Delicious.”

“The innkeeper gave them to us,” Chihaya said.

“Said they’re a local specialty made in-house.”

Mai also took one and bit into it, her eyes sparkling.

“So good!”

She grabbed another and handed it to Futaba.

“Futaba-nee, try it.”

Futaba took it and bit in.

“Mm, not bad.”

Hitomi took one too, eating it slowly.

They sat on the corridor, enjoying the snacks and tea.

Sunlight poured down from above, warming the wooden floorboards beneath them.

The bamboo swayed gently in the breeze, leaves rustling softly.

Futaba leaned against a corridor pillar, thinking about how You had been trying over and over again earlier.

If Chihaya hadn’t told him to rest, he probably would have kept going.

She toyed with the half-eaten confection between her fingers, her gaze fixed on the distant sky, her mind drifting to a distant past.

She remembered when she was learning healing herself.

Back then, she practiced on silk cloth over and over.

Until her fingers ached, until her eyes blurred.

At the time, the elders of the Tsukuyomi family said her talent wasn’t a match for Chihaya’s, but that she made up for it with diligence.

She refused to accept that back then.

Why should they say her talent was inferior to Chihaya’s?

She’d prove them all wrong.

And eventually, she did.

Her curse art skills ranked first among her peers in the Tsukuyomi family, and she stood among the top of the younger generation in the entire Shinto world.

But compared to Chihaya, she was still a step behind.

Just that one step.

Futaba withdrew her gaze and looked at the clouds in the sky.

They were white, drifting lazily across the blue.

She wondered—what if she and Chihaya hadn’t been rivals, but just friends?

Of course, they were already friends.

Friends who’d grown up together since childhood.

It was just that their families’ positions and their own identities had forced them to become competitors.

And now?

Was there a chance for change?

After all, Lady Kaguya and Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto weren’t actually hostile toward each other, so they wouldn’t need to be rivals in divine affairs anymore, right?

Though, she supposed they could still be “rivals” in other ways—watching Chihaya lose her composure was entertaining, after all.

And besides, they’d all be one family from now on.

At that thought, Futaba couldn’t help but smile.

It was a smile completely different from her usual one—fainter, and more genuine.

She glanced at Chihaya.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Perhaps marrying the Divine Child wasn’t just about her plan, but also her own wish.

Her thoughts reached that point, and she immediately stopped herself, cursing inwardly.

Futaba, what are you thinking?

How could you possibly fall for a man so easily?

The wise do not enter the river of love, right?

Chihaya seemed to sense Futaba’s gaze and turned to look.

Futaba hastily averted her eyes, feeling a twinge of guilt.

She mentally scolded herself again—Why did you look away?

Doesn’t that just make you look guilty?

She quickly turned her gaze back and found that Chihaya didn’t seem to have noticed her earlier movement, merely glancing around casually.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Good, good.

Chihaya didn’t catch that.

That would have been embarrassing.

Soon enough, she composed herself, her demeanor and smile becoming flawless once more.

You finished one piece of confection and took a sip of tea, gazing at the clouds in the sky.

They were white, drifting slowly across the blue.

He was thinking that healing was much harder than purification.

Purification had only taken him less than a week to master, but healing probably wouldn’t come that fast.

Still, he wasn’t in a hurry.

Take it slow, he’d learn it eventually.

The confection really was good, though.

Was it because the recipe was genuinely excellent, or because he was tired and needed the sugar?

His mind wandered a bit.

He glanced at Chihaya.

She was drinking tea, her profile clearly lit by the sunlight.

A thought suddenly popped into his head: when Chihaya taught him, she was much gentler than usual.

Normally she always held herself with such formality, saying things like “As the Divine Child, you should lead by example.”

But when she taught him, although her tone remained cool, her eyes were different.

More focused, more earnest, more like an… older sister?

No, not an older sister.

More like a teacher.

A teacher who was responsible, patient, but not quick to praise her students.

You looked away and picked up another piece of confection to eat.

The taste really was decent—might as well have a couple more.

“By the way, are we still going out this afternoon?” he asked.

Chihaya thought for a moment.

“Do you want to?”

“Doesn’t matter.

Going out or staying in is fine either way.”

“Then let’s not go out,” Chihaya said.

“You used up quite a bit of spiritual power this morning.

Rest well this afternoon.

We’ll continue training tomorrow.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

Futaba listened from the side, feeling a little disappointed.

She’d been hoping to find a chance to speak with You alone when they went out this afternoon.

But that was fine.

There was still plenty of time.

She picked up her teacup and took a sip.

The tea had gone cold.

She didn’t mind.

Mai, meanwhile, was watching Futaba.

She felt like Futaba-nee seemed a bit off.

She’d definitely seen it—when her sister looked at her, Futaba-nee had actually looked away!

In all these years, this was the first time Futaba-nee had ever shown signs of guilt!

Mai could hardly believe it.

Hmph, it definitely had something to do with You-kun.

At that thought, Mai subtly inched closer to You, intending to offer him a bite of her confection.

But remembering the scene that morning when You had directly eaten the honeydew melon from her hand, she felt a bit shy.

In the end, she didn’t offer it and finished the rest herself in small bites.

Hitomi sat at the far edge, watching everything unfold.

She was thinking that Chihaya’s control over You was growing stronger and stronger.

Whether to go out or not, what to eat and drink, what to learn and how to learn it—everything was arranged by Chihaya.

The others could only follow along without any say in the matter.

So this was the bearing of a legal wife?

Hitomi lowered her head, looking at her own reflection in the teacup.

A gentle face, gentle eyes, a gentle smile.

She suddenly felt that this gentle appearance of hers was utterly useless in front of Chihaya.

Chihaya wasn’t swayed by that sort of thing.

But that didn’t mean she had no chance.

You-kun was a man, after all.

Would he really be willing to be controlled by Chihaya forever?

She didn’t think so.

Chihaya was certainly good, but that kind of forceful nature tended to backfire.

Even someone as mild-tempered as You-kun would be the same.

Right now, You simply had no objections to Chihaya’s arrangements, but disagreements between them were inevitable eventually.

At most, the process would be drawn out a little longer because of You-kun’s gentle nature.

She suddenly felt a spark of hope.

All she had to do was wait—wait for the day You-kun stopped accepting Chihaya’s control.

Wouldn’t her gentleness be the perfect weapon then?

Chihaya wasn’t swayed by it, but You-kun was.

She remembered it clearly—that day when she first proactively pressed close to You-kun, his breathing had noticeably quickened.

Hitomi resumed her gentle smile.

Thinking about it that way, time was on her side.