Miyu’s in the office, struggling to make her way through Nanami’s correspondence when a shrill scream startles her out of her chair.

  Before she can think better of it she’s racing for the door and tearing into the hallway – it sounded like it came from the kitchen so she sprints over and –

  Kikyo is standing on a stool, brandishing a broom while Masa wields a plank of wood like a club.

  “What is it?” Miyu’s breathless, searching frantically for the threat.

  “A spider! It’s huge Mi-chan, it was this close to biting me oh my gods it’s running for you-”

  Miyu can’t help the scream that tears out of her throat because the spider is, in fact, huge, and is also, in fact, running at her with ridiculous eight-legged speed.

  She hightails it into the main foyer, lunging for a pair of shoes in the rack before whirling to face the creature. It’s stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, at least the size of her hand. It’s got a huge body and large, hairy legs. It seems to be debating whether to pursue the now armed Miyu or traverse the kitchen again.

  “What’re you all fussing about?” Nanami comes down the hall with a yawn, quirking a brow at Miyu. She knows she must look ridiculous, standing poised with a mismatched shoe in each hand, ready to whack at any eight-legged attackers.

  She’s panting, because she doesn’t like bugs or spiders or any kind of insect, and the adrenaline rush of hearing the initial scream hasn’t quite left.

  “Spider,” her voice is high and strained, and she jerks her head to the doorway where the spider is standing very, very still.

  Though Nanami is often unflinching in the face of frogs and cockroaches and other small, distasteful creatures, she seems to have a personal vendetta against arachnids.

  Her sharp eyes dart to the spider in the doorway, and Miyu feels a thrill go down her spine. From her sleeves, two fans appear. Miyu knows they’re her metal tipped ones because she ordered them herself.

  “A spider?” The geisha’s voice is dangerously low, “In our Okiya?”

  Miyu’s body sends her fight or flight into overdrive and she trembles in anticipation.

  For a moment, everything is still.

  And then Nanami lunges for the spider, and it darts away as her fan smashes into the spot it had been occupying.

  Kikyo screams again as it renters the kitchen, and from her place in the entranceway Miyu hears the sound of the broom smashing into the floor. She runs to the doorway, and almost chokes on her laughter because Masa has joined in with Nanami’s pursuit of the creature, even though she’s had difficulty with her sight as of late.

  Watching her blindly smash her plank of wood around while Nanami spits insults at the spider and Kikyo continues screaming is all too much.

  She starts laughing, wheezing as the spider runs up the broom to Kikyo’s horrified screeches.

  “Hold it, Kikyo!” Nanami shouts, and then hits the broom with such force that it snaps in half. She gets only one of the spider’s legs, and Kikyo’s scream impossibly raises another octave as it skitters towards her on the broom.

  She hurls it across the room and the spider thuds into the wall beside the entrance where Miyu stands.

  Miyu launches a shoe as the spider hits the floor, but it’s knocked off course by the falling broom.

  “Come here you bastard!” Nanami is in hot pursuit, as Masa tries to squash the spider with her plank from a short distance. She hits the shoe Miyu threw instead, and blindly keeps hitting it, probably thinking it’s the spider.

  Miyu’s gasping now, trying to see through the tears streaming down her cheeks as she doubles over with laughter.

  The spider is running through the middle of the room now, between Masa’s legs and back towards Kikyo, who is obviously the weak link.

  “What’s all this ruckus about?” Mother is suddenly at the back door, watching with a frown as the scene unfolds.

  The spider changes course and Nanami growls inhumanly, throwing a fan that crashes in front of it and makes it change course again – right into the downward swing of Masa’s random plank-smashing.

  Several things happen at once.

  Kikyo yelps in victory.

  Nanami shouts in triumph.

  And as the plank hits the spider, it explodes, and thousands of tiny spiders skitter from its crushed body.

  Mother is cursing now, and Nanami is stomping on as many as she can with a vengeance. Kikyo is wailing up on the stool, and Masa is very confused because she can’t quite see the tiny army of baby spiders rapidly spreading through the kitchen.

  Miyu? She runs for the front door, slips on a seemingly random pair of shoes, and makes for the exterminator’s office as fast as she can.

  There are tears of laughter on her cheeks and she’s still breathless – for the first time in months, she feels light.

  .

  Summer is ending and as the leaves turn from green to varying ranges of orange, red, yellow, and purple, the tidal wave of Nanami’s requests floods in.

  Miyu doesn’t mind not leaving the Okiya. She often has the girls from her network scouting the potential patrons meet her in the office, so she feels safe inside.

  The office is the most secure place in the Okiya, mainly because she keeps their books and all correspondence within its four walls. Mother is paranoid about other Okiya in the district and is weary of spies stealing their patronage.

  Even if other Okiya were privy to the information, it’s doubtful that they’d be able to poach Nanami’s loyal clientele.

  But today, Miyu has arranged for a meeting with a new patron to take place under the sharp eyes of Mother in the tearoom out back.

  She watches silently from the secret slats in their storeroom as the young, handsome man fumbles his way through his interaction with Nanami.

  It’s amusing to witness, and Miyu catches Kikyo struggling to suppress her smile as he almost drops his teacup for the second time.

  He’s a promising candidate. The second youngest son of a wealthy family, well-bred, yet still na?ve. With a role in their family business in exotic wares, and an inferiority complex to his three older brothers, he’s ripe for the taking.

  Nanami knows this too, if her practiced blush above the curve of her fan in any indication. He’s besotted, and terribly na?ve to let them see it.

  He takes his leave and they all take their places around the table as Masa finishes preparing their supper.

  “I don’t like him,” Mother says, cleaning her pipe with nimble fingers. “Too young.”

  “I think he’s a good prospect,” Nanami disagrees, and Miyu is unsurprised.

  “If we can confirm his wealth, I think this could work,” Kikyo says, eyeing the tense stares being exchanged between Nanami and Mother.

  “Miyu,” Mother says though her eyes never leave Nanami’s, “what is your evaluation?”

  Suppressing a sigh at this ritual they repeat every time a new patron has their first meeting, Miyu folds her hands in her lap and takes a calming breath.

  “Fukushiro Wataru is the fourth son of a noble house that deals in fine wares. While his eldest brother holds the ceremonial heir position, the second eldest is a rebel and traverses the elemental nations as a known gambler and womaniser.”

  Masa sets the last of the food down and they begin eating.

  “The third brother has a fine eye for art and craftsmanship and so spends his time as their warehouse manager.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She brings the chopsticks to her mouth and takes a small mouthful of rice. Kikyo is listening raptly, food ignored. Nanami is frowning delicately at her bowl, though it too is untouched.

  “Wataru is the fourth in line. He is known for being shy and reclusive, but he is rumoured to be an honourable man with a penchant for hard work and a talent with numbers.”

  Miyu takes a sip of tea and resumes.

  “He manages the financials of the company at twenty-four. In the time he’s been working, the profits have gone up by fifty percent.”

  Mother is gloating across the table and Miyu catches sight of Nanami’s clenched fist over her knee, out of sight from Mother.

  “The Fukushiro clan are noble and their greatest embarrassment has been the debts racked up by their second son. On six occasions they have made repayments to innkeepers, restaurants, debt collectors, and courtesans, who their son had almost scammed.”

  “In this case,” Miyu eats another bite of rice, noting that Masa is the only other one eating without a care in the world. She chews and swallows before continuing, “I believe Wataru would make a good patron. He will not make false offers, and he definitely has the financials to back them.”

  Nanami’s the one gloating now, though Mother hasn’t quite stopped yet.

  “If he happens to fall short on payments, it’s likely his parents or older brother will reimburse us to save face. We are a reputable establishment and any word against him will be taken seriously by the district and the circle of nobles we deal with.”

  At that she lets herself eat.

  Nanami is radiating smug energy and Mother never stopped her gloating. Kikyo is looking between them, visibly confused.

  Miyu continues to eat because while Masa may be losing her hearing and going just a little blind, she can cook like it’s nobody’s business.

  .

  Itachi,

  I’m glad to hear Shisui got a taste of his own medicine! The rumour about his extra nipple was particularly good, I hope he suffers. Excuse my vehemence, I haven’t gotten over the rumour he spread about my con-man status.

  I think things are calming down, finally. I’ve been busy at work securing a few more patrons, and the influx of inquiries grows each day. Nanami is famous enough that we may have to hire her a guard soon.

  The Autumn festival is approaching – we celebrate it in the capital every year. Will you come?

  Sincerely yours,

  Miyu

  .

  She receives no response before the Autumn Festival and tries not to be disheartened. He’s a ninja. She can’t imagine the hardships he faces daily, and there’s no guarantee he’s even received her message if he’s undercover.

  The afternoon and early evening is spent on the streets with Kikyo. Nanami is at a party, so the two of them play games and win stupid toys and laugh hard enough at Miyu’s attempt to win a crow plushie by hitting a target that she consistently misses, that Kikyo’s makeup starts to run.

  They eat dango and buy enough for Mother and Masa, too. Nanami won’t thank them for any sweets they bring her anyway.

  They buy matching autumn-themed hairpins from a street vendor, and get Nanami a fan artfully painted with red and orange maple leaves. She’ll scoff at the quality, but Miyu knows she’ll set it atop her dresser with all the other trinkets they buy her at every festival she must miss due to her role.

  Silently, Miyu wonders at her sentimentality. The expensive gifts from her best patrons sit tucked away in drawers, often still in their boxes.

  They buy a shogi set painted with decorative leaves, and a pretty matching chopstick set for Mother and Masa.

  It’s evening by the time they return to the lantern-lit Okiya, and they split for their rooms. Miyu yawns behind her hand and enters her room with a sigh. She sets her trinkets on her dresser and pulls her hairpin out of her bun.

  Her hair swings heavily down her back, and she runs a hand through it with a sigh.

  She stretches her arms above her head and begins undressing, undoing her obi with precise movements. She’s shrugging off her outer layer when someone clears their throat.

  Dropping her yukata the rest of the way, she snatches her hairpin from the table and whirls to find the source of the sound.

  Stepping out of the shadows in the corner of her room is –

  “Itachi!”

  The smile comes despite her valiant attempt to fight it. Sure, she’s only in her thin under-robes, and he had scared the life out of her, but he’s here.

  She lunges over her tatami and he catches her with a small huff.

  “You came!”

  She pulls away from his chest and beams up at him.

  His face goes from unreadable to lightly amused with the faintest softening of his brow and a quirk to his lips.

  “I apologise for my lateness.”

  She pouts playfully at him and harrumphs with a frown.

  “I couldn’t win this stupid crow plushie without you,” she wonders if he’d have laughed at her attempts to win it, “I spent an ungodly amount on my twelve tries.”

  He snickers and she pulls out of his arms with a real pout.

  “I’ll get you a plushie next time,” he offers with an apologetic smile.

  Miyu relents and slips on her outer layer again before reaching for the bag containing her new shogi set. It’s surprisingly good quality for a seasonal vendor. She says as much to Itachi, and he inspects the pieces with a hum. He’s squinting as he peers at the little leaves on the back of the king when she realises he’s still in mission gear.

  “Are you hungry?” She asks, moving for the door, “I’ll bring you something-”

  His hand darts out to grasp at hers and she pauses.

  “The fireworks are about to start,” he says, setting the shogi piece back into its pouch with a small clink.

  “You’re not hungry? Oh, wait!” She reaches into one of the bags and pulls out two rectangular cardboard takeaway boxes.

  “We can eat this while we watch them! Let’s go-”

  In the next breath her feet are swept out from under her and they’re moving so fast she has to shut her eyes to keep them from watering.

  But a heartbeat later they’re standing on the roof of the tea house next door. She’s a little proud that she managed not to screech this time.

  Itachi sets her on her feet, and nods towards the generator behind them, “Care for a seat?”

  Before Miyu can reply, he’s holding a blanket. He sets it over the cold metal, and gestures for her to go before him.

  “Thank you,” she smiles, and sits, handing him a box.

  He sits beside her and she takes a moment to survey the streets from their vantage point while he opens it.

  “Dango,” she can hear the excitement in his tone.

  “Dango,” she confirms, eyes roaming the lantern-lit streets. The Autumn festival has always been her favourite. Warm reds and oranges, a splash of yellow and purple – the lanterns reflect these colours and make the city glow.

  “Beautiful,” she murmurs to herself, breathing in the clear air of the rooftop.

  “Here,” Itachi presses her stick of dango into her hand and she watches with bemusement as he almost inhales his.

  She takes a bite of one and then hands it back to him.

  “I ate earlier, honestly.”

  He stares at her with dark eyes, unreadable.

  “Take it,” she presses the topmost dango to his mouth and tries to ignore the shiver that goes down her spine as he opens to take a bite, eyes never leaving hers.

  Suddenly breathless, she looks back to the skyline as the first whistle of a firework launching sounds.

  They crackle and shimmer in the sky, and she tracks the pretty lights with muted joy. Fireworks have always been nostalgic for Miyu. They remind her of being young - poor and malnourished, hardly enough money to eat most days. But at the festivals, the fireworks were one of the few things that were free.

  She’d view them from her room, leaning against the splintering window ledge to watch the colours dance in the night sky.

  A soft touch on her chin and she pulls her gaze from the display to meet Itachi’s eyes. His fingers are calloused against the curve of her jaw, and Miyu watches the glittering reflection of the fireworks in his dark eyes.

  His face gets closer, and she feels hypnotised as his mask of indifference melts away. Behind it, something tender and warm.

  He stops, just a breath away, and murmurs, “May I?”

  It’s Miyu that leans in, so close that his breath tickles at her lips, and then –

  “Captain Uchiha,” the monotonous voice startles Miyu, and it’s only Itachi’s reflexes that stop their heads from colliding painfully.

  There’s a figure in all black standing on the rooftop only a few metres away. Their flat white mask obscures their face, and while Miyu watches they make a few hand signs.

  “Ah,” Itachi stands swiftly, “something rather urgent has come up. I’m sorry-”

  “Don’t apologise,” she tries to conceal her blush as she stands, wondering how much the masked operative saw.

  Itachi sets her back in her room in the blink of an eye.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” he says lowly from where he’s perched in the window frame.

  “I understand,” Miyu responds evenly, but her chest feels too tight. “Be safe.”

  His hand reaches out, and even though she’s prepared the poke to her forehead sends a warm, pleasant tingle along the crown of her head.

  He disappears into the colourful night, and Miyu stands there for a few moments, disappointment warring with her giddiness.

  The door bangs open behind her and she jolts, spinning to see Nanami – half her hair pins pulled out but her makeup still impeccable – in the doorway.

  “Were you just talking to someone?” she asks bluntly.

  “Popo-chan,” Miyu says, watching Nanami’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

  “You only do that on certain days. Don’t think you can fool me.” She leans in a little and looks around the room. “Was someone here? Is that why you’ve been so weird these past few months?”

  Miyu hopes her blush has faded enough that Nanami can’t spot it.

  “No,” she replies as evenly as she can, turning to her dresser, “to both of your questions.”

  “Hm,” Nanami doesn’t sound convinced, “still don’t believe you.”

  Miyu doesn’t roll her eyes, but only because the mirror on her dresser will betray her to Nanami who is very obviously watching her reflection.

  “The fan is ugly, by the way,” she yawns as she leans in the door, and still manages to look graceful.

  “Throw it away, then,” Miyu shrugs, setting up her new shogi board.

  Nanami scoffs, and yawns again. “Is that a new board? I’ve been meaning to practice.”

  Miyu tries to hide her smile, but the pinched expression of Nanami’s reflection tells her she’s not done a good enough job.

  “Take off your makeup,” Miyu says over her shoulder, “get comfortable. We’ll have a quick game.”

  “What makes you think it’ll be quick?” Nanami’s smirk is too pretty to be called that.

  Miyu only gives her a challenging smile, “We’ll see.”

  .

  Nanami was the main attraction of the party at the Autumn Festival, and it becomes evident that she did an impeccable job as per usual when their post arrives over the next week.

  Miyu’s brow twitches as she watches the letters and scrolls get stacked onto a side table in the office. There’s too much to fit on her main desk. She shoots Nanami a betrayed look, but the geisha only gives her a sharp smile in response.

  “Have fun, Miyu,” she sings her name as she makes for her own room, and Miyu rubs at her temples, eyes already blurring despite the morning hour.

  With a sigh she takes her seat and begins sorting the inquiries and existing correspondence. Priority cases will be addressed first – existing patrons, promising inquiries, and lavish compliments. The rest – inquiries without any background checks, fan mail, and a few love letters, sit in a pile to be addressed at a later date.

  She works from sunrise to sunset, taking breaks for tea and food and occasionally to watch Kikyo practice her dancing. It’s an exhausting routine, but it’s effective. It takes her only three days to go through the priority responses, but by the last day she’s crashing hard at her desk.

  Miyu falls asleep in the office, her head pillowed on her arm.

  .

  Crackling. She can hear crackling. What?

  She opens her eyes, peering into the office. It’s a lot darker than she thought it would be, and her eyes are stinging, and shit, she can’t breathe-

  The smoke is thick and black.

  It takes her only a moment to realise the Okiya is on fire.