Miyu steps out of the carriage slowly.

  It’s only been five days since she left, but she knows her work will have piled up in her absence. She looks to the team of ninja assembled before her and gives them a deep bow.

  “I thank you for your service,” she rises, and offers a smile.

  “It was our honour,” Itachi says, and the four of them bow as one.

  Miyu glances down the line of crowded food vendors. The sun is just skimming the horizon, and if she doesn’t make any stops along the way she might make it back home in time for dinner.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you to come to Konoha?” Shikamaru tries one last time, lips quirked in a half-smile.

  “Unfortunately, I have duties here that must be attended to.”

  She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a neatly folded piece of paper. Within it, the transcript of her game against Ito, and one of her previous games against Makishima.

  “For you,” she says, “and your father.”

  He accepts the paper with a nod, sharp eyes peering at it curiously. He won’t open it in public – ninja are too cautious for that – and a part of her regrets that she won’t be there to see his reaction when he opens it.

  “Miyu-san,” Itachi steps forward, blocking the others from view, “let me walk you home.”

  He meets her eye. Gives her a few moments to process. Another moment to decline.

  “That would be appreciated, thank you.”

  She steps to the side, smiles once more at the team, and says, “I hope we meet again. I wish you safe travels back to Konoha.”

  And then she and Itachi fall into step together, headed to the flower district. She wonders what he will think of it, if he thinks anything of it at all.

  “I wanted to ask,” he says, once the crowds have thinned, “if I could write to you.”

  Miyu keeps her face clear and neutral.

  The Uchiha heir, asking to write. It’s likely he has been betrothed since he was a child, but ninja can be odd when it comes to duty. The Uchiha are strong, and a connection with the future clan head could boast many benefits over time, given she puts effort into their correspondence.

  So she should say yes. For that reason alone.

  Not because she wants to hear from Itachi again. Definitely not because of that.

  “I’d like that very much,” she says, and tries not to let her breath hitch audibly when his arm brushes against hers.

  “Hn.”

  She looks up at him. He’s staring at the street ahead, but there’s a softness to the line of his mouth.

  “I was worried you’d decline.”

  Miyu refocuses on the path, the Okiya within her sights now.

  “And I was worried you wouldn’t ask.”

  He makes no comment, but she gets the distinct feeling that he’s pleased.

  They slow to a stop before the Okiya, and she watches his face closely as he takes in the traditional building. His expression is unreadable, but that says enough. Surprised, then.

  He bites at his thumb and crouches to the ground in a movement almost too swift for her eyes to follow. When he rises, there’s a crow perched on his wrist.

  “Miyu-san, meet Chikako. Chikako, this is Miyu-san.”

  The bird peers at her with beady eyes. Miyu hasn’t spent all that much time around ninja and isn’t quite sure how to react. Well, a bit of posturing never goes amiss.

  “Hello, Chikako-san. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She bows neatly, and when she stands straight, she notices that Itachi’s lips are twitching.

  “Oh, I like this one,” the crow says. Because of course, it speaks. “Keep the bowing up and I’ll subcontract to you myself. For a small fee, of course.”

  “Chikako,” Itachi sounds mildly exasperated. “I wish to write Miyu-san, this is her home.”

  “Ah,” the bird says ruffling its black feathers for a moment. “Does Shisui know? That cheeky bastard won’t be able to keep his mouth shut. You’ll be the juiciest gossip in the village by the week’s end, mark my words.”

  “Chikako,” Itachi sighs, and his long-suffering expression prompts Miyu to intervene.

  “I’m inclined to believe it’ll be gossip within hours, Chikako-san,” she comments lightly, “care to bet on it?”

  “Oho!” the crow hops from foot to foot, tilting its sleek little head in excitement. “I want a whole stack of shiny things! I like rings, they’re easy to hang around my tree.”

  “Done.” Miyu nods. “And I’d like a play-by-play of exactly what kind of gossip is spreading. You’ll take extra care with the gathering of that intel, I presume?”

  “What do you take me for?” scoffs Chikako, “Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your deal of the rumour mill. Which window’s yours?”

  Miyu clamps down the urge to smile and shares an amused look with Itachi.

  “Back window on the second floor. I’ve got a cactus in my windowsill. It’s wearing a hat.”

  The admission feels silly to say, but she’s not willing to divulge Popo-chan’s eccentricities. That cacti has been her faithful companion since she arrived at the Okiya.

  “Cowboy cactus, got it. Geez, Itachi-sama, you know how to pick ‘em.”

  “Chikako,” there’s definitely some exasperation to his tone now, and Miyu is starting to wonder at the bird’s ability to bring this much emotion out of him in nary a minute.

  “Anyway, I’m a busy chit,” sighs Chikako, “don’t have the time to sit around and chat today. Get those rings ready, Mi-chan, you’re gonna need ‘em.”

  And with – is that a wink? – the crow disappears in a puff of smoke.

  Miyu blinks at Itachi’s outstretched hand for a long moment.

  “I apologise,” he murmurs, “Chikako is my smallest and most discrete summons. She can only be sent by Shisui or I, so if you see her you know our correspondence is secure.”

  Ah, security. Yes. Ninja and all.

  “I think she winked at me,” Miyu says, feeling a little on the back foot. “I didn’t know birds could wink. If it even was that. Am I seeing things now? Is that a side effect of being around ninja? Be honest, I just saw a bird talk, I don’t think anything you can say will surprise me at this point.”

  He does surprise her then.

  Only, not with words.

  The sound of his laughter has her frozen. It’s a deep sound, full and warm and without restraint. It makes the corners of her own lips tilt up – until she’s grinning at him like a fool out on the street where anyone could see, gods –

  She forces her smile away, drops her gaze to his hands, and takes a few seconds to compose herself.

  Oh, but it had been such a beautiful sound.

  “Forgive me,” she says once she’s cleared her throat lightly, “I’m babbling. I’m unused to animals that can - well, talk.”

  Let alone wink, damn it.

  “Only if you forgive me for not giving you warning.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Damn this Uchiha heir.

  “We’re in the capital, Itachi-sama.” - This is something I should be somewhat familiar with.

  “Ninja summon most commonly in private, Miyu-san.” It’s unlikely you’d have seen this before.

  “You just did it in the middle of a busy street.” No need to make excuses for my gracelessness.

  “With only you around to see.” I know that no one was looking. It was for your eyes only.

  She presses her lips together, unsure whether she wants to smile or scowl. Repressing the urge to do either, she nods and accepts the impasse.

  “You’ll write?” she asks, reluctant to part suddenly.

  “I’ll write,” he nods, and reaches out a hand to clasp one of hers briefly.

  And in the space between one blink and the next, he is gone.

  She enters the Okiya, calling out a greeting just loud enough to carry to the communal areas.

  “Hm,” a figure appears in the doorway leading up the stairs, wrapped in an elegant yukata that lets Miyu know that the day had been a quiet one.

  “You’re back,” the disinterest in the woman’s tone is borderline insulting, as though she’s observing one of the stray cats that frequents their Okiya.

  “Nanami,” Miyu nods respectfully, a stark contrast to her address, “I assume Mother is in?”

  “Where else would she be?” Nanami’s not scowling. She’s too refined for that.

  Instead her lips twist into a delicate scorn. Miyu carefully toes her shoes off and arranges them neatly on the rack beside the door.

  “Perhaps keeping an ear open for nobleman’s gossip?” Miyu suggests with innocence unbefitting of the deep curl of satisfaction in her gut at Nanami’s flaring nostrils.

  It’s no secret that Nanami’s most immediate rival has threatened her standing as of late. The geisha often refers to this Tomiko as a cheap imitation, nothing more than a shallow no-good fifteen-minute sensation.

  “And you?” Nanami’s voice keeps its calm. “Here to gloat, are you?”

  Miyu raises a delicate brow.

  “I live here, Nanami.”

  A delicate laugh, thinly veiled venom in the lines of the geisha’s smile.

  “Yes, and I suppose you think it's permanent.”

  Miyu only narrowly represses the urge to roll her eyes. Nanami can be so transparent.

  “I don’t know how many times I must remind you,” she begins with a sigh, “I’m not trying to get adopted. I just want to play shogi. You should be thankful you don’t have to deal with any of your correspondence.”

  Nanami’s lips quirk into the beginnings of one of her few rare shows of genuine emotion.

  “Good. Just ensuring your most recent victory didn’t get to your head.”

  Miyu does roll her eyes then as she steps into the kitchen, “Really, Nanami. You’re slipping. I read the intent within a minute.”

  “Oh, do shut up,” says the geisha, half a step behind her, “I haven’t had my dinner. Can’t expect much when I’m working on an empty stomach.”

  “Lucky our dear Masa has cooked us this beautiful meal,” Miyu says much too loudly. But Masa is half-deaf, and if you don’t shout she won’t hear you at all.

  “Is that Miyu-chan I hear?” Masa turns from where she’s setting the last dish on the table. Her grey hair is done in her usual up-do, a pretty pin with a tiny, folded paper camellia dangling from the top end holding it in place.

  “It is indeed,” Miyu steps forward to embrace the woman, shorter with age.

  “It’s good to have you home, dear,” she pats at Miyu’s cheek when she pulls away, “call Mother. Let us eat.”

  .

  Miyu falls into the routine of life in the Okiya with relative ease.

  Kikyo, their maiko, is truly blossoming under Nanami’s tough tutelage.

  Mother, a stern woman who had only entrusted Miyu with her duties after she beat Makishima, spends most of her time commissioning elaborate kimono for Nanami and Kikyo, or meeting contacts in the tea shop next door.

  The books are always a place of intrigue to Miyu. Eyeing the sums that patrons pay, watching them through the slat in the wall between her office and the main hallway – she makes note of their clothes, their hair. How they walk and what they choose to make small talk on, if there’s any talk at all.

  Slowly the details sift together, forming figures as full as she can make them.

  Most visit their Okiya for the tea ceremonies that Nanami is famous for, but often a few will request for her to play the harp, or dance.

  Nanami is always sure to be accompanied by Kikyo, or often Masa. She will not have anyone insinuate that she has done anything more than her usual rituals, and men often cannot be trusted to remain truthful about their relations.

  One thing that Nanami will not do, and has never done, is advertise her more private favours.

  Miyu knows it is to hold onto what little freedom she has in choosing her patrons. Mother isn’t pleased that Nanami refuses to service those who request it unless she expressly wants to, but not much can be done to force her.

  Discretely, Miyu slips those particular inquiries to Nanami before Mother has the chance to read them.

  The geisha never makes comment, and Miyu is fine with that. If it were up to her, she’d burn them the moment she read them.

  The truth of it is this: Nanami is an artist. In every graceful movement, with every fold of her kimono or twist in her elaborate hairdo – years of training. The elegant sweep of her makeup, the precision to her tea ceremonies, even the sound of her laugh.

  Everything about her is poised and practiced, but lacking in the stiff decorum that usually accompanies such things.

  She creates – with her words, the bat of her eyelashes, a pretty poem.

  Men have returned again and again, to catch a glimpse of the slight smile hidden behind her beautiful fan. Just the corner of her mouth, and just for a moment.

  It’s enchanting to watch.

  Her competition with Tomoe is concerning, only because of what Miyu has heard of the woman.

  Tomoe does not perform beautiful ceremonies. She plays the harp, and recites poems, but she doesn’t create, not in the way that Nanami does.

  Where Nanami’s talents are as deep and beautiful as the ocean, Tomoe seems nothing more than a shallow stream.

  So Miyu puts her head down, takes extra care in the wording of her responses to requests for Nanami’s time, and does her part in ensuring their Okiya’s reputation as the finest in the flower district.

  .

  The first letter comes two weeks after her arrival home.

  She’s in the middle of reviewing the return on her investments in Rice country when the knock comes at her door.

  “Miyu-chan, be cautious of walking beside any rivers or fountains today,” Masa informs her gravely.

  Wondering if there’s been a report of a drowning and mentally re-routing her path to pick up a book of fabric samples for Mother, Miyu dares to ask why.

  “There’s a raven in your window.” Masa says it as though it holds great gravity, her dark grey eyes solemn as she stares up at Miyu.

  In her decade at the Okiya, Miyu has become familiar with many of Masa’s superstitions.

  Once, she made Miyu rinse her mouth out with sake when she caught her whistling in the halls.

  “You’ll summon a demon with that foolish mouth, child!”

  She has more patience for Masa’s stresses than Nanami, who often ignores any of the old woman’s efforts to reverse the results of their actions, and most definitely does not listen to any of their housekeeper’s ‘advice’.

  Kikyo, on the other hand, is terrified of every wizened word that falls from Masa’s mouth.

  Most notably, Miyu once returned to the Okiya to witness Kikyo panicking about the symbolism of a frog appearing on the foot of her bed.

  What Miyu suspects had been a petty trick by Nanami turned into a week of Kikyo visiting the Fire temple to pray mercy for her life.

  In any case, Miyu just nods to Masa and says, “I will take care to avoid water, then.”

  Why water, the shogi master has no idea. She’s not inclined to ask, either.

  When she makes it to her room, Chikako is perched on her windowsill, inspecting Popo-chan with a critical eye. There’s a small scroll attached to her leg.

  “Two days,” says the bird without looking away from the tiny cactus.

  “Hello, Chikako-san.”

  “You said hours. I said a week,” the crow continues without acknowledging Miyu’s greeting. “It was more than hours.”

  “A week constitutes seven days,” Miyu settles onto the stool set beside the window and raises a brow at the summon.

  “And hours constitutes – well, hours. Within the same day, surely.”

  Chikako turns her beady gaze onto Miyu.

  “I do believe two days is closer to one day than it is to seven,” Miyu states placidly.

  “Hm.”

  The crow tilts its sleek head and watches her for a moment.

  “You weren’t right, though.”

  “Neither were you,” Miyu retorts, “but to be fair, I’ll hand over some of the bounty I gathered. Tell me about the rumours as I unpack them for you?”

  Chikako seems to think about it for a second before nodding.

  “It was Shisui that started it, as I expected,” she begins while Miyu heads to her dresser and opens the jewellery box atop it.

  “Good call,” she calls over her shoulder, “I suspected it would be the Aburame. I sometimes fancy them raging gossips behind all the stiff speech and standoffish behaviour.”

  “They are gossips, but this time it was our brat boasting of how proud he was of Itachi-sama for flirting with a beautiful woman.”

  Miyu presses her lips together to hide her smile as she turns to face the window, hands cradling a small blank scroll and a pen, and a tiny wooden box.

  “For you,” she says, opening the miniature treasure chest to show a pair of very pretty, very shiny silver hoop earrings.

  “Hmm not bad,” Chikako observes, pecking at the fastenings curiously, “could do with a bit more sparkle but it’s acceptable for now.”

  “That’s good to know,” Miyu takes her seat again as Chikako extends the scroll towards her, balancing on one leg expertly.

  “Itachi-sama neither confirmed nor denied anything, which just made the rumour mill explode.”

  Miyu smiles to herself as she unravels the letter. It’s short, only a few lines – but it’s better than nothing.

  “A betting pool was started with input from that smug Nara heir, on what you look like, what you do, whether you’re a single ambitious young lady looking to further her status or a fine lady married to a dispassionate noble.”

  That makes Miyu laugh, and she wonders at the imaginations of the soldier ranks of Konoha.

  “What’s the most outrageous thing they’re saying?” She tries not to sound too eager.

  “That you’re already pregnant with the heir to the Uchiha clan, but must pass the child off as your husband’s legitimate heir to stop your evil brother-in-law from becoming head of the family.”

  Miyu snorts, and then slaps a hand to her mouth, but Chikako hasn’t seemed to notice, or more likely - doesn’t care.

  “There are a few who believe you to be hired by the Uchiha Council to seduce Itachi-sama. It’s no secret they’ve been hounding him to marry at every clan meeting since he turned sixteen.”

  Chikako fluffs out her wings with a huff that sounds as close to a laugh as a crow can get.

  “They believe you’ve been approved to marry into the clan and will be brought back to Konoha for the wedding and the birth.”

  “Gods,” Miyu pulls the pin from her hair and sighs in relief as the heavy mass tumbles down her back. “And those closest to the truth?”

  Chikako titters and goes back to inspecting the earrings.

  “That depends on what the truth is, Mi-chan.”

  To that, Miyu has no reply. If she’s honest, they’re forging a correspondence that may be beneficial to the both of them. Though she’s yet to figure out what the Uchiha heir could possibly gain from their pen-pal status as of yet.

  She writes up her letter, making sure to ask after the brother he had so graciously shared the existence of that night beside the fire.

  Politely, she inquires after his work, the team, and whether he’s beaten anyone in a game of shogi recently.

  A sentence or two about the book balancing at the Okiya and the intrigue of managing Nanami’s clients, and she gives no more away about herself.

  Briefly, she insinuates that it would be nice to see him in person again soon.

  She signs it with –

  Sincerely,

  Sugawara Miyu

  Chikako promises to keep an ear out for the best rumours, and Miyu vows to find something that sparkles a little more for their next meeting.