Yanni’s sandals clicked and clacked along one of the smooth roads of Zhuli, hands clasped in front of her. She’d elected to stay in the back, where she could keep a close watch on Ravyn and Tristan, as well as the others in his Party.
“Thank you for showing us around,” Tristan said, glancing over his shoulder. His smile was so pure and unassuming. There was a sparkle in his expression, a joy in his tone; even his body language was warm and welcoming. Lots of gestures, all very expressive.
“You are most welcome. It is the least I could do for both Mistress Emberlynn and her daughter,” Yanni bowed at the neck.
“Living here must be like living in a dream,” Destiny remarked, her hand clasped in Tristan’s. Yanni watched the exchange for some time, curious that neither one of them was eager or in any hurry to let go. Such exchanges were rare, generally only seen amongst family members or close friends. What was most interesting, however, was how bashful the one named Destiny acted the entire time. Pink cheeks, sweet tones, and stolen glances. “The air is so crisp and clean and wonderful. Nothing at all like Shulan.”
“Maya and I used to soar down these ramps when we were kittens,” Ravyn snickered. Her familiar was perched on her shoulder, squinting his eyes and making noises that resembled whining rope when stretched too far. “The wind feels great in your hair.” Despite Ravyn’s protests to explore Zhuli and her apparent dislike for her mother’s very existence, she smiled and carried an air of longing about her. Yanni had seen that expression countless times. It was usually carried by those returning from long journeys to the other islands or those who came from supply runs to Shulan.
“And you survived,” Lara said with amazement.
“We weren’t fucking stupid,” Ravyn said with a roll of her eyes. “We made sure the brakes worked.”
“You have bicycles?” Tristan asked.
Ravyn sneered. “No. And the carts don’t have brakes, either.”
Yanni heard Lara whisper to Destiny, “What’s a bicycle?”
Yanni wondered how Ravyn and Maya survived in one piece if the intent was to break the cart at the end of the ramp. The only option otherwise would be for either of the young girls to stop the cart with their bodies. Perhaps ‘breaking’ referred to this practice. She noted Ravyn’s curious story for later.
“The village looked a little different back then,” Ravyn continued, “and the slopes weren’t so damn steep.” She stopped and looked at Yanni over her shoulder. “My mother says you’ve been employed by her for ten years or so. She said I’d recognize you, but I don’t.”
Yanni paused, and her heart skipped a beat. She needed to say something. In moments like these, hopping from one foot to the other alleviated her stress and anxiety, but such a mannerism would be unusual for a woman in her position. She had another solution.
Drawing a slow, deep breath through her nose, she considered Ravyn’s words and tried to pluck an old bookmark from her mind on her first day of employment. The memory came back to her, as fresh as it was the day it happened. “Mistress Emberlynn wrote of my employment sometime after your departure from the estate. If the words of Mistress Emberlynn are to be believed—and I see no reason to doubt them—then she would have mentioned me in her missives to you on several occasions.” She tapped her chin in thought before continuing. “Yes. She has mentioned me many times.”
Ravyn raised a brow and crossed her arms. Despite her brash words and… revealing Shulan aesthetic, Yanni liked to believe that the daughter of Emberlynn was as powerful, intelligent, and wise as—
“No, I don’t remember you at all.”
Yanni blinked and went wide-eyed. “W-Wha? Eh?” Her shoulders slumped. “N-N-Not at all?” Her heart sank and her dependable exterior began to fall.
“Not even a little bit.”
No. No, no! Calm down. Breathe in and out. In and out.
Yanni resumed her posture and formed her lips into a straight line. “That…is most unfortunate. Perhaps you will remember at a later time.”
Ravyn shrugged. “Maybe. Hey, is Sachiko still running her tailoring business?”
“She is, but her daughter, Yukari, inherited it.”
“The creepy one,” Ravyn groaned. “Take us to her.”
The tips of Yanni’s fingers tingled. The conversation was moving faster than she was comfortable with. She paused, and Ravyn gestured with a hand for her to continue. “Y-yes,” Yanni managed. Tristan blinked and tilted his head at her. Destiny and Lara were looking at her now as well. She tightened her grip around her forearms, her knuckles turning white. Her nerves tacked her mind and mouth, and she swallowed. “Very well.”
Yanni thought to mention the fact that Ravyn had seemingly forgotten where Sachiko’s shop was, but she couldn’t think of a witty remark or comeback to help the conversation feel more natural. In instances like these, she found that simple affirmatory or negatory comments worked best. Laughter often landed her in social trouble, so she avoided giggling or snickering.
Pointing down the alley to their right, Ravyn, Tristan, and the others waited and stared at her. Yanni quickly realized that they expected her to lead, and so she gracefully took the vanguard of the group, leading them down the alley past Sakura and Mimi’s homes and onto the next stretch of street. She continued her march up the incline, then gestured for them to wait until a cart passed them by and walked across to the other row of homes and businesses.
They came to a tall building, much taller than many of the other buildings in Zhuli, and Yanni motioned for them to wait on the sidewalk while she flicked her finger down a strip below a blue-white gemstone. The gem hummed with the motion of her finger, and a voice within beckoned them inside.
“Huh. A doorbell?” Tristan murmured.
“A ringing stone,” Ravyn corrected.
“Tristan’s saying so many funny words today,” Lara noted listlessly.
Yanni slid the santo door to the right—a sliding door constructed of thin wooden beams latticed and fastened to a translucent sheet of santo paper—and proffered a quick bow at the neck before entering. She stood to the side of the frame, gesturing for Ravyn and the others to enter ahead of her. Ravyn nodded before entering, and Tristan and his Party mirrored her. Ravyn stood to the opposite side, just as Yanni did, and shut the door behind her.
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“This is not the face I was expecting.” A woman in traditional blue-and-white Zhuli robes approached, her footsteps as soft as ever. Her tail was long and thin, her ears sharp and pointy with a tuft of white within. They both carried the same dark hue of blue as the long hair on her head. She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her gaze on Ravyn. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”
“Cut the crap, Yukari,” Ravyn growled as she stepped forward. “Is your mom in?”
“She is. But she is not well. What do you want?”
Ravyn sighed. “I need some adjustments made to my [Combat Mode] outfit.”
Yukari raised a brow. “I have not seen you in years, and the first time I see you again you ask me for a favor. I see you have not changed.”
“Squawwwk! Give her a fucking break! Squaawk!” the bird perched atop Ravyn’s shoulder screamed.
Yanni flinched, and her ears instinctively lurched forward.
“Look, we can play catch up later, but I got a big fucking list of things to do,” Ravyn growled before entering [Combat Mode]. Her Shulan attire vanished and was replaced by resplendent robes of red and gold. The jewelry alone would have fetched a fortune of Bells from the buyer, but the robes were just as exquisite. Such silks and stones could scarce be found anywhere else but San Island. “Now can you fix it or not?”
Yukari frowned and stepped forward. She brushed the fabric between her fingers and tugged at one of the seams. Then, she allowed it to fall from her hand, observing how it flowed. “I do not understand. As far as I can see, there is nothing wrong with it. Ichi Island, am I right?”
Ravyn drew a deep breath. Her brash attitude toward others was almost entertaining. Almost. “Yes, I just want the damn thing trimmed.”
Yukari rolled her eyes. “Yes, you want to feel the breeze between your thighs.” She sighed. “No modesty for Emberlynn’s daughter.”
“Just fucking fix it.” Ravyn returned to [Civilian Mode] and set her [Cat Pack] on a nearby table where bolts of fabric lay. Carefully, she set each article of the set on the table, and her familiar flapped in a half-circle before landing on top of her head. “There. When will it be done?”
“Bells first,” Yukari said. “Then we talk.”
Their relationship had even more friction to it than Yanni imagined. Yukari often spoke fondly of Ravyn, though expressed disdain for her lack of contact. There were many who believed just as Emberlynn had—that Ravyn had perished some time ago. Emberlynn kept such thoughts to herself, confiding in a rare few. Yanni considered herself lucky to be one of them, and she preferred to believe that Yukari, despite being short with Emberlynn’s daughter, was at least somewhat happy to know that her friend was still alive.
“There. The usual, plus extra,” Ravyn said as if she had expected pushback from the moment she stepped inside.
Yukari stepped over, examined each individual coin, then hummed to herself as she scooped the Bells into her hands. She walked over to a large wooden box and inserted a key. The top popped open, and she gently placed the coins inside before locking it again.
“Come back tomorrow,” Yukari said as she retrieved Ravyn’s clothing. “You and I can sit down for tea when you come back for them. You don’t get them back until we do.”
Ravyn sighed. “Fine. Deal.”
Yukari nodded, then disappeared behind a divider on the other side of the room. Ravyn turned around and marched past Yanni and the others, sliding open the door with oddly gentle motions, and then stepped outside. The others followed, and Yanni exited last and closed the door.
“That was tense,” Tristan said, rubbing the back of his head. The entire time they had walked, he had not let go of Destiny’s hand even once. Yanni was certain of this. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Ravyn said, “I just forgot how much baggage I left behind.”
“What always cheers me up in these moments is a sweet piece of cake!” Destiny said with a raised finger. “Maybe you would like a drink as well? You like alcohol, right?”
“I… No thanks,” Ravyn said. Now that was interesting. If Ravyn was the type to consume alcoholic beverages, then she should have been more than ready to accept. Yet, she showed hesitance. Considering Destiny’s comment, something had to have changed that the others were unaware of. Yanni bookmarked this event in her mind for future use.
“Weird,” Lara hummed as she stepped forward to stare at Ravyn. “Your fire is missing.”
Ravyn put her hand against Lara’s face and pushed her away. “Are we continuing the tour or what?”
Yanni nodded, prepared with a bookmark for just such an occasion. “Yes. I know of a quaint little restaurant that we can rest at.”
“Oh, I like quaint!” Destiny said.
Tristan looked at Destiny, smiling wide. Destiny leaned her head against his shoulder. “Then let’s go there.”
Yanni led the way once more, and their Party found themselves close to the bottom of the main incline. The shop was closed, and a sign expressing that the owner had made a trip to Shulan for spices was plastered to the front of the santo door.
“How peculiar,” Yanni said.
“Should we go somewhere else?” Destiny asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“Yes, I suppose we should,” Yanni said, distracted by the sign. She stepped forward and brushed her finger across the parchment. A thick layer of dust coated her fingertip. As she lifted the corner and noted the stark contrast of the door’s white paper beneath, everything became clear. It had been a month since that sign was put up—Yanni was certain that it was this very same one.
“Is something wrong?” Tristan asked. Such an inquisitive man.
“This is most unusual. Karaka is a prompt woman. She takes exceptional pride in her work and her business. She should have returned by now.”
“How long has she been gone for?” Destiny asked.
“One month.” A sinking sensation in the pit of Yanni’s stomach formed as she silently noted her lack of visitation with Karaka for so long.
“No fucking way that it takes a month to get spices from Shulan and come back,” Ravyn said.
Yanni glanced at her. There was still the brashness to her voice, the irritation in her tone. But somewhere in there she was sure she heard a hint of concern. Perhaps Ravyn was more like her mother than Yanni initially thought. “That is correct. Karaka is not the type to leave and never return. There are many who depend on her.”
“Something stinks,” Lara said, sniffing the air.
“That’s rotting fish,” Ravyn sighed.
“Oh!”
Karaka was a fair friend of Yanni’s. However, Emberlynn had made it quite clear that she was to act as her mouthpiece and guide Ravyn and Tristan as necessary. She stepped back. “My apologies. We shall visit another restaurant.” Yanni began her walk up the road when Tristan stopped her.
“You don’t want to look for her?” Tristan asked. Yanni looked at him over her shoulder, blinking. “From the way you talked about her, it sounds like she’s your friend.”
How observant.
Yanni had taken great care not to exhibit emotions or gestures which would suggest such things. Perhaps her word choice had been the problem. Regardless, Tristan was able to discern their friendship from very little. That was to be lauded.
“Yes. I do wish to look for her.” Yanni turned around, hands clasped. “However, Mistress Emberlynn was clear on what she expected of me.”
Ravyn mimicked her silently and mouthed the words. “Who fucking cares what my mom thinks? Your friend’s missing. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Yanni swallowed, and her nerves began to fight back. The conversation was moving too fast again. “Y-yes.”
Rayvn blinked. “So, let’s go look for her. See if someone saw her leave. If this restaurant perks up the ears like you’re suggesting, then I’m sure someone else has looked into it.”
Yanni blinked. “Yes.” Her mind was becoming a fog. Her fingers writhed. She had to say something. “P-p-please. C-can we find her?”
Tristan smiled and Ravyn smirked. Then they nodded.
image [https://i.imgur.com/6gTxpFB.png]