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Kujou Sara was well put together in all ways but one. Her appearance was meticulous, she needed to be well groomed and appear neat and composed to portray an image of victory and control. This applied to everything. Her hair, her posture, her clothing. Except for one pesky little problem. Her feathers. Resting on the back of her neck and between her shoulders, they were nearly impossible to reach. Incredibly difficult to maintain. And there was no way in any world she would let anybody come close enough to her to touch them. So they remained a problem, hidden away below her high-necked clothing. She hadn’t seen them for ages, too busy to spend more time in front of the mirror. Or at least that’s what she told herself. They were itchy and uncomfortable, but she had long grown used to the feeling of them against her skin.
The breeze on Watatsumi Island was cold, and the air smelled of salt and brine. The landscape was rocky, the island hosting many large cliffs, connected only by thin rope bridges that swayed in the breeze. The ocean air ruffled Kujou Sara’s clothing, and she took a breath in. It had been a long while since she had set foot on this island. And even longer since she had done so in peace times. This time, no soldiers. She had two guards with her and her bow on her back. There was a ship with reinforcements if necessary but at this point in negotiations it was just formality. Walking down the hill, she could see the general ahead of her. A young man, Gorou if she recalled correctly. The general’s tail swayed behind him in the wind, ruffling through his fur. Hair? Truly a mystery.
“Madame Kujou,” he greeted, nodding his head at her. “Good to have you.”
“Thank you for hosting me. Where is Sangonomiya Kokomi?” She asked.
“She’s in the temple, please, follow me,” Gorou said. Kujou Sara nodded, gesturing for the guards to follow her. Gorou was also armed, his bow on his back, but his posture was relaxed and he had his back to them, giving the impression that he was fairly comfortable and confident in his safety. Leading the way across the bridges, Gorou led them to the temple. “She’s inside,” Gorou said, nodding to her and opening the door.
“My thanks General Gorou.” Kujou Sara answered, stepping in. Her guards, and the general remained outside, posted just before the doors. Close in case negotiations broke down, but leaving Sangonomiya Kokomi and Kujou Sara alone. Sangonomiya Kokomi was sitting in the middle of the room at a table. Before her was a spread of food and a tea set, a delicately ornate teapot and matching cups.
“Madame Kujou, what a pleasure to have you on Watatsumi under favourable circumstances,” She greeted, standing from her place and holding her hand out. Kujou Sara paused, before taking her hand. Kokomi’s hands were impossibly soft and delicate, the pale skin clear of any callouses, and nails neatly trimmed and cleaned. Everything about Kokomi’s appearance was like water, gentle, smooth, flowing. Her smile was kind, and her eyes held no anger or resentment, only light and hope.
“Likewise Miss Sangonomiya. Thank you for having me.” Kujou Sara said. She waited for Kokomi to sit down once more, before taking her spot on the cushion across from her. Kokomi held up the teapot.
“Tea? It’s sencha,” she offered.
“Yes please,” Sara responded. Kokomi poured the tea carefully into both cups, handing one to Sara before sipping her own.
“Would we like to get into the negotiations?” Kokomi asked, setting her cup onto the table.
“Let’s,” Sara agreed.
The conversation was long. It remained civil, the discussion quiet and earnest. They spoke for hours, going back and forth, over and over, trying to come to an agreement. Every single issue brought to the table required lengthy talks that only ended in minor changes and tweaks to the original version. But still, it was progress.
Kokomi sighed, setting her empty teacup down. “Shall we take a brief break? I need to stretch my legs.” She suggested, looking at Sara. Sara didn’t know how, but her eyes were still as bright and lively as when they had first begun. Sara felt like her brain was going to explode by now. She nodded, and stood alongside Kokomi.
“Yes, we’ve made quite a lot of progress for the day.”
“I am pleased with how far we’ve gotten. Would you like to join me on a walk, Madame Kujou?” Kokomi asked.
“I think I’ll pass for now, thank you though. I’d like to reconvene with my guards for a moment.” Kujou Sara said.
“Alright, I will be back after I check on some trade affairs,” Sangonomiya Kokomi answered. They walked out of the temple together. Sara watched as Kokomi greeted General Gorou fondly, the general’s tail wagging almost excitedly at the sight of her. It was remarkable how close Kokomi was with her subordinates. They didn’t seem like just colleagues or comrades, no they seemed more like friends if the general’s tail and Kokomi’s warm smile were anything to go off of.
Sara turned to her own men and began to brief them on the discussions. She skipped details that were confidential for the moment, but revealed which issues had been discussed.
“Jun’Ichi, please go back to the ship and update the crew. Tell them things are progressing smoothly.” Kujou Sara said.
“Yes Madame Kujou,” one of the guards nodded, walking off towards where the boat was docked.
Sangonomiya Kokomi still hadn’t come back, but the wind chill had begun to bite angrily at Sara’s exposed arms. She looked around, seeing no sign of the priestess. She considered her options before deciding.
“I’m going to wait inside, please let Sangonomiya Kokomi know when she arrives.” Kujou Sara said, the guard nodding curtly. Sara walked back into the temple, thankful for respite from the wind. Looking around, she paused. When she was sure she was alone, she let her wings out. They appeared from under her clothing, hanging down from her shoulders. The dark feathers were covered in a powdery substance, some of the pin feathers still stuck in their sheaths, long beyond when they should be free of them. They were disorderly and unkempt. Sara didn’t need a mirror to know they looked out of place on her. Sighing with relief, she stretched her wings, feeling them exposed to the air. It had been ages since she had been able to let them free.
Sara hadn’t heard the doors open and close, not realizing Kokomi had come back until she walked over to Sara’s side.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, making Kujou Sara jump. She whirled around, looking at Kokomi, who was stifling a giggle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. Kujou Sara expected it to be disingenuous, but she did truly seem apologetic, and her eyes once more held no malice.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Sara said, folding her wings onto her back. Her eyes followed Kokomi as she circled Sara, eyes tracing her wings. Looking over her shoulder, Sara studied Kokomi’s expression. She looked thoughtful as she met Sara’s eyes.
“It looks like they haven’t been taken care of for a while,” she said. But it wasn’t in a judging way, it was more curiosity than anything else. Kokomi stepped in closer, and Sara was greeted by the soft scent of tea and sea water rolling off of Kokomi. The smell was relaxing and warm, soothing. She was starting to understand why so many people followed her so diligently, why so many had defected and given their lives and bodies for this woman. “May I?” Kokomi asked.
Sara meant to refuse. It was unprofessional, it was unseemly. She didn’t like others touching her as a soldier, she especially hated when people touched her feathers. But they were so itchy and uncomfortable, and Kokomi’s hands were so soft and smooth. If you asked Kujou Sara why she nodded and turned away, giving her consent to Kokomi, she wouldn’t have been able to answer.
Maybe it was the intoxicating smell of sea water and tea messing with her head, maybe it was the undeniable charisma of the priestess, maybe it was a manipulation tactic she had fallen for far too easily. But regardless of what it was, regardless of Kujou Sara’s own confusion about why she allowed it to happen, the moment Kokomi had begun preening her feathers, it was bliss.
Her lithe hands were gentle and careful with her feathers, working from the top of her wings down. Kokomi was on the tips of her toes, reaching up to get at the feathers. Carefully, she sought out the pin feathers, gently pressing down on the sheaths, the dried coating easily crumbling as she rolled the feathers between her fingers. The sheaths disintegrated one by one under her deft hands, carefully grooming each feather, taking meticulous care to not hurt Sara.
The relief Sara felt was immense. The more feathers that were freed, the more the constant itch and incessant discomfort disappeared.
Was it really okay to have someone this close? Let alone the opposition during the war? Why did it feel so good to let her care for the feathers? Why was she trusting this woman?
Kujou Sara, for once in her life, had no answers. She could feel her cheeks growing hot as Kokomi hummed an unfamiliar song while she finished preening the feathers.
“There, that must feel better,” she chimed, her voice almost musical. Sara cleared her throat, putting her wings away again.
“Yes… shall we-“ she replied, stuttering slightly, her normal composure lost. “Shall we return to the matter at hand?”
“Yes, would you like another cup of tea?” Kokomi offered, seemingly oblivious to Sara’s somewhat flustered state. Either that or she was ignoring it entirely.
The talks continued into the evening, the sun dipping below the horizon as they wrapped up. Stepping out of the temple, the two women turned to one another. The orange light bathed them in warm shades, and Sara couldn’t help but notice the almost iridescent quality to Sangonomiya Kokomi’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Sara said, nodding at Kokomi.
“Thanks to you as well.” Kokomi said. Sara began to depart, stepping away from the shrine before Kokomi stopped her. “Oh and Madame Kujou?” She asked.
“Yes?”
“You should come visit Watatsumi again, perhaps for non-work related affairs.” Kokomi said, smiling brightly at her. Sara cleared her throat, fighting the blush on her face from the implication.
“I may have to take you up on that Miss Kokomi.”