Chapter 14: Burnt Rice

The smell reached her before the words did.

Burnt rice, sharp and bitter, from the back stove where Tomoe had left the pot an hour ago.

"Your rice," Shiori said from the doorway.

"I know."

"It is burning."

"I know it's burning. I'm angry, I'm not dead."

She snatched the pot off the coals with a wet cloth.

She dropped it in the washtub, where it hissed and filled the kitchen with gray smoke.

Shiori stood in the haze with her arms at her sides.

She had taken off her sword.

It leaned against the doorframe behind her, where she could not reach it in one step.

"I will say it badly," Shiori said. "I would like to say it anyway."

"Then say it."

"I did not know how to tell anyone I was lonely."

Tomoe laughed, short and ugly.

"You told a whole Council. You wrote it down and sealed it. You told seven strangers and two enemies."

"On paper."

"And you couldn't tell me while I was lying under you?"

"If I had told you, you would have stayed out of pity."

"I stayed because of the soup!" Tomoe shouted. "I stayed because you ate it with your eyes closed!"

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Neither of them moved.

Smoke curled up between them toward the rafters.

"I wanted you to stay for the soup," Shiori said, very low.

"I wanted it to be that simple. For one winter I wanted to be someone's customer."

Tomoe stared at her.

The anger did not go away.

It only turned over and showed what was under it, which was fear, because she had nearly walked out the gate.

She crossed the kitchen in three steps and took a fistful of the grey robe.

"Don't you ever," she said, "let me find out a thing like that from a stranger."

"Never."

"Say it again."

"Never again. I swear it on every blade I own."

"I don't want a blade. I want you to say it to my face when it's hard."

"I will."

Tomoe dragged her down by the front of the robe and kissed her hard enough to hurt.

Shiori made a sound, half shock and half relief, and caught Tomoe by the waist and lifted her onto the worktable.

The knife roll slid off onto the floor.

Neither of them looked at it.

Tomoe's hands were rough on her, tugging at the quilted robe, pulling at the ties.

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