I can’t put up with awkwardness forever.

I guess, in that way, I’m different from other girls. The traditional Eastern view of a woman is that of the home-keeper, the caretaker, the peacemaker. The complacent woman who cleans the house and feeds the kids, accepting her role in life without question or impatience, while her husband is out changing the world by fighting and working with other men.

I spit on tradition. I’m not complacent. I’m not patient. I don’t accept my role in life. If something is wrong, I work to fix it. I fight against it. I don’t need some man to do it for me.

This defies a woman’s typical gender role, I realize. I spite that role, and I’m uniquely posed for it. My job, the work of a shrine maiden, is steeped with old ways, old thoughts, old ideas. The miko is meant as a source of calm guidance, counseling people into acceptance of how the world is. And if the miko acts in direct defiance of what is, the gesture is all the more potent. The contrast of an old-fashioned spiritual worker versus a progressivist lends power to the woman who is both.

If I reject the old systems of thought, then nowhere more so than in personal relationships. I’ve lived through a lot of strange, hurtful, supernatural things in the last year and a half. These events have strained my friendships. Some are stretched to the breaking point. Others, threatened to die before they’re born. I don’t accept this. I won’t accept it. It hurts to think that a woman, who might have been my friend, is alienated before I know her. It doesn’t matter what happened between us. It doesn’t matter how bad, how painful, how horrible the event that keeps us apart.

Even if that event is murder.

Forgiveness isn’t the acceptable thing, these days. If I’m killed in a hot-blooded act of rage, common social wisdom says that I need to hate my murderer forever. If there is an afterlife, I should spend all eternity cursing her name. Hating her should be the foremost definition of my identity. It’s only fair, right? She slaughtered me. She deserves my hate. I should spite her forever.

“That’s another tradition I spit on.”

This I said to myself, sitting alone in the front room of my home. I sat at the kotatsu, but my legs weren’t under it. It was too hot. All the windows were open, letting a feeble summer breeze waft through the house. I wore as little clothing as would allow me to feel halfway decent. A baggy blouse and pair of house-trousers. I wore no sarashi around my chest, nor any bloomers or panties on my bottom. The lack of underwear caused some discomfort, but the heat was oppressive.

“I should put something on,” I said. “I’m having company over.”

But I didn’t move. The idea of putting on more clothing was just too much. Only now did the day’s heat begin to die. Orange sunlight cast long shadows outside, and beamed in through the windows at a shallow angle. Evening crickets and cicadas squealed outside. It would be nighttime soon, and then it might be cool enough to get into some underwear.

“Besides,” I said. “She won’t know. It’s not like I’ll be taking my clothes off.”

There came a knock knock at the door, breaking me from my thoughts. I froze, looking across the room to the door. Was it her? Had she come?

“It’s me, Reimu.”

That voice. A young woman’s voice, but with depth from the throat. The voice that I had, not long ago, hated the very sound of. The voice I tried to accept.

“Coming!” I said. I stood up, padded barefoot across the room.

---

I opened the door, putting my eyes just past the door jamb.

“Evening,” she said, holding up one hand. Her other hand held a heavy sack to her chest. She smiled at me, a smile weak and forced. Embarrassed. Trying to be pleasant, like a good diplomat.

“Sakuya,” I said, pulling the door open. “I’m kind of surprised you came.”

“I’m surprised you invited me,” she said, hefting both hands under the sack. “Should I come in?”

Aside from feeling like the worst hostess in Gensokyo, not inviting her in right away, I caught something subtle in her words. Should I come in? Not, can I come in? As in, am I even welcome here?

“Sure. Of course.” I stepped aside, making room for her. She stepped over the threshold.

“Shoes off at the door?” she said.

“If you don’t mind.”

She didn’t. She slipped out of her footwear, a pair of simple buckle-tops. Not the best for a hot day’s walk, and not for hiking up a mountain trail. It’s a two-day walk from her home to mine. The trip would bother her less than most people, but she would be tired.

As she stepped past me, headed into the front room, I looked up from her feet. Her clothes were simple enough. A light blue dress with few frills. A crisscrossed v-shaped web of lace ran up her back, starting narrow at the small of her back and widening to her shoulder blades. She stopped a few steps in, turned back to face me. This showed her in profile, including the bulge of her breasts against the sack in her arms.

This must be one reason I had hated her so badly. Sakuya is beautiful. She’s tall and exotic. Her skin is fair, her eyes are blue, and her hair is silver. Her face is sharp, claiming both beauty and intelligence. She has the best figure of any human woman I’ve ever seen, though I make it a point to see as few as possible. Sakuya is one who I’ve seen naked, mostly by accident.

“Reimu?” she said.

Her voice snapped me back to reality. I gave my head a short shake. I might be against tradition, but I’m still a girl. I have to know where I stand against the prettier birds in the flock.

“Can I put this down somewhere?” she said, bobbing the sack in her arms.

“Yeah. The kitchen.” I pointed, stepped up to her side. I led her deeper into the house.

Sakuya sniffed. “You haven’t started cooking yet.”

“I thought it better to wait,” I said. “We both know you’d end up cooking, no matter if I tried to.”

She said nothing, but she smiled. Still weak and forced, but not embarrassed.

“And besides,” I said. “This way, we both get to eat better. But maybe we shouldn’t start dinner right away. You must be exhausted from the walk up here.”

We entered the kitchen. I waved a hand at the counter, and Sakuya set the bag on it. Her shoulders eased. She sighed in relief.

“I am, actually.” She turned back to me. “I’d love to sit and rest my feet, if your kotatsu has a spot.”

“It’s too big just for me. Want something to drink? You’re probably thirsty.”

She nodded. “It’s too hot for tea. Cold water is fine.”

The water was plenty cold coming from my kitchen pump. I filled a pitcher, got two glasses, and led Sakuya back to the front room. We took our seats at the heated table, though the heater wasn’t lit. Even this late in the day, the summer pounded us at full force. It was especially bad for Sakuya, having just finished the hard labor of walking up a mountain. She plucked at the dress over her breasts, fanning air down her chest and belly.

“I shouldn’t have worn something so heavy,” she said. “This heat is killing me.”

She used that word so casually. Death and killing. All that should be behind us.

“Don’t be ashamed of light dress,” I said, pouring from the pitcher into the glasses. “I’m barely wearing anything over here.”

“You mind if I take off my socks?” she said. She already began doing it before I answered.

“I’ve seen more of you than your feet,” I said. “And I’m already barefoot.”

She slipped off a long pair of stockings, laid them flat on the floor side by side. Even relaxed, Sakuya was the epitome of proper. She took off her socks as if hanging up laundry. I would have wadded them up and thrown them in the corner.

Sakuya took her glass, took a long pull from it. I watched her throat work as she drank. Even her neck was beautiful. She let out a pah, set the glass down.

“You wanted to talk,” she said.

I never said so. My invitation had suggested that we have dinner at my place, nothing more. But why else? Of course I wanted to talk. It was no leap of logic to guess what about.

“Yeah.” I had both hands on my glass, rolling it between my palms. “About something really awkward and uncomfortable.”

“Best get it out, then. The longer you wait, the worse it gets.”

We agreed on that. Sakuya is many things, but none more than direct. I was grateful for it now, no matter how much it hurt me in the past.

My heart sped up by a beat. This was a raw topic.

“I don’t want this weirdness between us,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “We’ve both moved on, haven’t we? We both got the lecture of love and forgiveness. We chose to leave hate behind.”

Sakuya nodded as I spoke, slow and thoughtful.

“I hope we did,” she said. “It felt genuine at the time. But if it was, how could we be uncomfortable now?”

“One good deed doesn’t solve all the world’s problems,” I said. “The commitments we made in the netherworld were just the start.”

“Then it’s harder than I thought.” Sakuya put both her hands on her glass, mirroring me. “And I never thought it would be easy.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I wanted you to come over. You can’t deal with a problem without facing it.”

She curled an eyebrow at me. “So I’m your problem now?”

“If you are, then I’m yours too. The question is, how do we deal with it? I want to....” My breath ran out of me. I inhaled deeply, held up hands with palms to Sakuya. “I don’t want to be afraid of you. And I want to have the choice of trusting you.”

Sakuya sat silent, looking at me. Thinking over my words. A breeze puffed in through the windows, lifting her hair. A sliver of golden sunlight touched the top of her head, projected from a window across the room. It gave her hair a corona.

“I don’t deserve your trust,” she said.

“Maybe not yet,” I said. “I said I wanted to have the choice of trusting you. I don’t have that choice now, even if you were the nicest girl in the whole world. I can’t trust someone who I perceive as a bloodthirsty killing machine.”

Her brow bunched up. She leaned back from the table. I regretted using those words. I had hurt her.

“Well,” she said. “What if you’re right to see me that way?”

“It’s not,” I said, eager to cover up my blunder. “I’ve seen you do more than kill. You care about things. About your family, and your own morals. I haven’t forgotten how you nursed me back to health last year, after Flandre beat me up.”

“I remember,” she said, her eyes downcast. “But a murderer can save a life and still be a murderer.”

I shook my head. “Don’t say things like that. You know better. Yuyuko taught us better.”

She looked up, met my eyes with hers. I saw pain in her.

“But how?” she said. “I know beating myself up doesn’t fix anything. And I want to give you that choice, the choice of trusting me. But how? I know, within myself, that I don’t want to hurt you. I want to do right by you. But you can’t know how I feel. You can’t tell that my words are sincere.”

My heart picked up another beat, and warmed to hear her say such things. She was being honest with me, like she had been in the netherworld. I was wrong to imply she hadn’t learned her lessons.

“There is a way,” I said. “You were half right, when you said that I invited you over to talk. I want to try something. And I hope you realize....” I took in a deep breath, let it out. Tried to keep the anxious burn out of my chest. “I hope you realize how much a leap of faith this is.”

Sakuya tilted her head at me. I scooted back from the kotatsu and stood. I stepped around the table and sat down beside her. She took in a small surprised gasp, leaning back from me. The look on her face was shocked, offended.

I wiggled my butt to make myself comfortable. I looked at Sakuya, sitting beside me.

“Here’s one way,” I said. “Physical closeness.”

---

We sat silent, each second passing with the ease of having our toenails pulled off. She, confused and staggered by my sitting next to her.

Have you completely lost your mind? What are you trying to prove?

Me, continuing to sit there in open defiance of her surprise.

Yes, I am sitting here. You can’t do a thing about it, unless you want to break even this morsel of trust.

My heart picked up yet another beat. I forced my breathing to stay calm and even.

Sakuya blinked, as if forcing herself to accept something utterly insane. She shook her head, sat up straight.

“If you want,” she said. “I don’t mind. We came closer than this, in the land beyond death. Though it feels different here, in the mortal world.”

“That’s why,” I said. “We should eat dinner like this, side by side. You still too tired to cook?”

“No sooner do you make the gesture than you reach for an excuse to send me away. If I start on dinner, I’d have to stand up. I’d have to move away from you.”

I opened my mouth give some clever argument, something to prove that I didn’t want to be rid of her one instant after accepting her. But I had nothing to say. The only noise out of my mouth was, “Uuuhm.”

“Look at you. You’re a wreck.” Sakuya reached forward, put her left hand on my right hand. I felt the urge to pull away, to keep her from touching me. I fought that urge, held myself still. I let her hand rest on mine.

“You’re trembling, Reimu,” she said.

So I was. I shook all over. My shoulders shivered, and it carried down into my hands. Muscles in my chest and belly give little spasms. Even my thighs were twitching.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I don’t want to.”

“Then relax. I won’t hurt you.” She reached her other hand forward, took my right hand in both of hers. She held my hand with gentle pressure, soothing. Trying to calm me. Her hands were just bigger than mine, her fingers longer than mine. Her skin contrasted on mine. Hers was shades lighter, like a woman from Northern climes. Mine was darker, like so many women in the Eastern part of the world.

“Your hands are like mine. You’ve got the same callouses.” She rotated my wrist so that my palm faced up. She traced her fingers along the lines of my palm, then down each of my fingers like a fortune teller. I felt goosebumps from her touch. Tingles ran up my back.

“Have to keep the house clean,” I said.

“Here. I’ll make my own leap of faith.” Sakuya pulled my hand up and put it against her face. My palm cupped her left cheek. I felt her cheekbone under the base of my thumb, and her temple under my thumb’s tip. Her face felt clammy under my hand, cooled from the sweat of a long walk. My fingers touched the hair hanging over her ear. Her hair wasn’t tied into the braids that usually framed her face. Her hair flowed free today.

“I should be vulnerable to you, too,” she said. “If you want to use closeness to build trust, I’ll play along. But I don’t want to make the weirdness worse. Stop me if I go too far.”

A bit late for that. This was already more contact than I ever expected to share. But she was right. If we had the power to hurt each other, but neither of us used it, then we might overcome our wounded past.

I wanted rid of that past so badly. I wanted never to think of it again, to completely forget all its hurts. I wanted it erased, wanted it to have never happened.

“I will,” I said. At the moment, I had a hard time thinking what might constitute too far. I couldn’t imagine a single thing I wouldn’t do to repent of our past.

Sakuya lowered my hand from her face, but kept my arm outstretched so my hand rested in her lap. There she massaged my hand, gently kneading the muscles and working the bones in their joints. It felt nice. And she was vulnerable while my hand was there. Nothing would stop me from making a fist and punching her in the groin.

“Let me share something,” she said. Her voice was soft. Intimate tones. “I’ve been thinking a lot, since returning to the mortal world.”

“Me too,” I said.

“It’s hard to ignore things. You can’t deny yourself, and you can’t help seeing what’s happening inside you.”

I nodded. All true.

“So I saw,” she said. “I saw my tendencies to murder. I saw the skills, talents, experiences and emotions that make it possible. And I saw something that amazed me.”

I said nothing.

“All those things, the elements that allowed me to kill. They’re all good things, in and of themselves.”

“Really?” I said, and my tone conveyed how I felt. Not sarcastic or snide. Genuine interest.

Sakuya nodded. “I would’ve never thought. I’m skilled with a knife, better than anyone in Gensokyo. I have a hard family history, but my family stays together because we love each other. And the thrill I felt from killing. It was never a thrill for the kill, not a thrill for death. It was a thrill for life. The thrill of feeling pure energy in myself and, even better, in someone else.”

Sakuya lifted my hand up, bringing it near her chest.

“I used to think killing was the only way to get that feeling. I was wrong.” Her eyes unfocused, looking through me. She was thinking out loud. “Normal people do it all the time. They feel it when their family spends time together, or when friends sit around and talk. A father feels it when he ruffles his son’s hair, or when a mother helps her daughter pick out an outfit. Couples feel it whenever they make love.”

Her eyes met mine.

“And all those times,” she said. “Normal people had something I never felt. For them, the exchange of life was mutual. For me, I could feel it in myself. I could feel it in my victim. But they never felt mine.”

Then she did something that scared me. She put my hand over her left breast. I tensed at the feeling of her chest under my hand. Soft yet resistive. Her boobs were nicer than mine.

But I felt something else, the pounding thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud of her heart. Hers was faster than mine. She shared my anxiousness, but was better at hiding it.

“Please feel my life, Reimu,” she said. “I want to give you that. I want you to be the first.”

“W-would I be?” I said, and hated myself for stuttering. “What about your family?”

She looked away. “Well, some. I’ve hugged my mistress, and I’ve roughhoused with Flandre. But I....” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Forcing herself to say something difficult. “I’m willing to give you something I’ve never given to anyone.”

“Uhm,” I said. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Sakuya still held my hand to her chest. Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud.

“It means what you want,” she said. “In the netherworld, I put myself at your mercy. I want to do that here, so it means something in our mortality.”

“And if I had you at my mercy,” I said. “What would I do with you?”

“Feel my life,” she said. “You don’t even have to work for it. I’ll do everything. You’ll have the power to stop me if I go too far.”

I nodded, the gesture so slight that I barely moved my head. Sakuya could only see it for being so close.

“Okay,” I said. “Go ahead.”

---

Sakuya let go of my hand, then leaned forward and put her hands on my shoulders. She tugged me.

“Turn around,” she said.

I scooted my butt around, turning to my right. Sakuya did the same. We sat facing each other. My legs were crossed in my trousers. She sat up and rested her weight on her knees. She leaned closer to me, much too close. Our noses nearly touched.

“Look at me,” she said. “Let me see your eyes.”

Until she said so, I hadn’t noticed that I averted my eyes. I looked down at her dress, at her mouth, at her nose. Anything to keep from eye contact while so close. I realized this, and I was annoyed with myself. I wanted to let Sakuya do this. Any resistance was the voice of my past, dragging me back to its pain and terror. I refused it. I knocked the barriers down.

I met Sakuya’s eyes. I regretted that she would see mine, which couldn’t be so pretty as hers.

Thin rings of cool blue around a big black spot, the iris dilated for the dim light. Little tendrils of red, showing the blood vessels webbing through the white of her eye. More than her eyes, I felt her closeness. Her breath was on my face, moisture condensing on my lips and nose. Her breath didn’t stink. I was glad we had decided to do this before eating.

“Reimu,” she said. “Have you ever been with a man before?”

For a moment, her question was mere words, meaningless sounds. Understanding came slowly, and even then with surprise. Why did she want to know? Another aspect of making her life felt? Laying out her honest curiosity, denying her own inhibitions that would normally keep her from asking such things.

I smiled. “Of course not. Shrine maiden, remember?”

She smiled back, chagrined. I could see it in her eyes.

“Me neither,” she said. “Have you ever kissed a guy?”

“Gotta flash the maiden card again,” I said. “Now more for decent behavior than chastity.”

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like?”

“Well, sure I have. We’re girls. We think about those things.”

“These things.”

Sakuya broke the eye contact, but only so she could tilt to the side and come closer. Her nose went to the left of mine. I felt the soft, moist pressure of her lips against mine. I took in a breath, and she took advantage of my mouth opening to press hers into mine more deeply. My eyes closed, and I gave myself up to the feel of it. Her tongue touched the tip of mine, but intruded no further. I puckered my lips against hers, closing the connection between our mouths. She let out a short moan, Mmm. Pleased at my response.

My hands came up, trying to hold her and feel her. One hand, I put on the small of her back, feeling her spine arch so she could lean to me. My other hand went to the back of her neck, my fingers grasping in her hair. Both her hands moved up from my shoulders, holding my face in place so she could work my mouth with hers.

The kiss lost its momentum. Sakuya pulled her mouth back, but put our foreheads together. Our hands stayed in place. Our eyes met again.

“Sakuya,” I said. It felt strange to use my lips for speech, while the taste of her lingered. “That was....” And I had no words.

“I want more,” she said, her voice showing the same sweet pain that I felt. “If you’ll let me, I want to do more. I want to be your first, and I want you to be mine.”

I took a breath, and I swallowed. I nodded, rubbing my forehead against hers.

“Okay,” I said. “Come on.”

I reached up, took her hands. I untangled my legs and stood up, bringing her up with me. She stood taller than me. I had to look up to meet her eyes.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning. “Into the bedroom.”

---

I’ve never liked romance stories, but I’ve seen enough of them to know the basic idea. There comes a point when human emotion gets so strong that it overrides everything. Things like rationality, prudence and morality all get kicked out the window in favor of satisfying the needs of the moment.

I used to think this was impossible. It would never happen to me. I would never get so wound-up as to lose my better judgment. I was wrong. In retrospect, I realize this night with Sakuya wasn’t even the first time such happened to me. Hatred had overrode my good sense many times. Now, in an effort to repent, my emotions demanded that I do things no shrine maiden should do. Forgive her, my emotions said. Accept her. Please her. Love her. Let there be the brightest light where once there was darkness.

These ideas disgusted my mind. The rational Reimu saw these feelings welling up, and was horrified. Sakuya is a girl! You can’t do this with another girl! You can’t do it with anyone! You’re supposed to be chaste!

But my mind’s rebellion was brief. My emotions were too strong. Intellect couldn’t resist without causing more pain than was worth its efforts. So my mind subsided, stepped aside, resigned to whatever my heart wanted of me. As I led Sakuya down the hallway, pulling her along with my hand on hers, I felt serene calmness. There was no anxiety, no confusion, no fear. Only a spacious peace, the sole content being a pulsing excitement. The giddy happiness of trying something new, of indulging in some unknown pleasure, free from any morality.

It felt right, such a right that no wrong could be its opposite.

I pulled Sakuya into my bedroom. On any other day, in any other emotional state, I would have been embarrassed. The Scarlet Mansion’s maid would look down on my living space. It was too humble, too plain, not clean or grand enough. This day, with these feelings, I couldn’t care what Sakuya thought of my house. I knew she didn’t care either. Her mind must have been as far gone as mine.

As Sakuya stepped over the threshold, I reached behind her and closed the door. I liked being that close to her, and yearned to put my arm around her, to feel her back and her waist and her hips. I resisted the urge. I wanted to do this the right way.

With the door closed, I turned to face Sakuya. She stood there, looking at me. The sun had set, casting a dull amber light in through the bedroom window. I was glad to let the light go out. I would use no candle or sparklamp. Best to do this in the dark, with touch being our primary sense.

“Sakuya,” I said, forcing my mouth to shape her name. I wanted it to stop being a bad word. I wanted to let her name be what it is, without calling it good or bad.

I held up my arms. She seemed surprised for a second, but accepted the gesture. She stepped forward, put her arms around me, and we hugged. She’s taller, so I rested my head on her shoulder while I wrapped my arms around the width of her back. Her breasts pressed into my chest above my own. I could feel hers holding their shape against me, and I felt the gap of cleavage between them. There came an urge to feel her boobs with my hands, to squeeze them and play with them, but I resisted. Again, do it the right way.

More importantly than her breasts, I felt her heart hammering beneath them. She could feel mine, too.

“Sakuya,” I said. “I want to love you.”

She made a soft, desperate moaning noise. The noise of enduring unbearable sweetness.

“Me too, Reimu,” she said. “I want to love you, too.”

I lifted my head from her shoulder, so I could look up into her eyes. She lowered her face to mine and kissed me again. This kiss was deeper, faster. I opened my mouth to hers, feeling her lips, and licked my tongue out. Our tongues played with each other, caressing one another. Our mouths made soft smack, smack, smick noises. It felt better than I imagined a kiss could feel. If I had known, I would have found a husband long ago. Except, I bet Sakuya’s face feels cleaner than any man’s face.

Sakuya’s hands were behind me. One was on the back of my head, holding it in place so she could kiss me. Her other hand went down my spine, feeling the shape of my body. She pressed the small of my back, felt how my waist narrowed from my hips and spread into my ribs. Her hand went lower, and I thought she might try to grab my butt. But instead, she grasped under my shirt, and I felt her fingers on my bare back. I gasped in through my nose.

I pulled my mouth back, breaking the kiss. I held out my tongue a moment too long, and a thread of drool stretched between our mouths. It stuck to my chin. Any other time, and I would have been embarrassed. Not now. I brought up my hand and wiped the spit away.

“Sakuya,” I said, my voice a growly whisper. Her name sounded more erotic each time I said it.

She responded with a sharp moan. Mm?

I lowered my hands to the hem of my shirt, grasped and began pulling up. I exposed only my belly before Sakuya stopped me, putting her hands on mine.

I looked up at her, confused. Didn’t she want this? Why had we come this far if not to go all the way? I wanted it, and I needed it. I needed us to be close and vulnerable that the decision not to hurt one another would mean something. No better way than to act like lovers.

And besides. I was hot. The touching and kissing made me hungry for more. I wanted the softness and warmth of someone. I knew Sakuya felt the same way. She couldn’t want to stop now.

“Reimu,” she said, her hands on mine, keeping me from taking my shirt off. “Let me undress you. Then you can undress me.”

A tension in my chest eased, replaced with that calm excitement. She was in this every bit as deeply.

I nodded, then whispered, “Okay.”

I let my arms rest. Sakuya kept her hands there, near my belly, and grasped the shirt’s hem as I let it go. There she held it. She looked down at her hands, breathing heavily, as if forcing herself to commit. Her knuckles touched my belly.

“If you—”

We both knew the next words out of my mouth. —don’t want to do this. She cut me off.

“No,” she said, and pulled my shirt up.

I lifted my arms, so she could pull the sackcloth blouse over my head. She slipped it off my arms and tossed it to the floor. I felt the night air on my upper body, and remembered I wore no undergarments. I stood there, bare-breasted. My nipples poked up for her to see. I was ashamed. I wrapped my arms over my chest, covering myself.

“Don’t look!” I said, turning away.

Sakuya expected that. She grabbed me, her hands clamping on my upper arms. She’s stronger than me, and she wrenched me back around to face her. I looked down, avoiding her eyes. Staring at her breasts, standing up under her dress. As if giving my attention to her chest would take the focus off mine.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “We’ve seen each other naked before.”

“Not like this,” I said. “It’s just, well. I’m embarrassed.”

“Of what? I know what boobs look like.”

“But yours are nice,” I said. “Yours are round and bouncy. I’m flat compared to you. When I’m all dressed, I look like I don’t have boobs at all. Especially if I tape up with a sarashi.”

Sakuya’s hands crept down from my arms. She worked her fingers under my hands, gently groping at my chest.

“Size isn’t everything,” she said. “Being petite has its own charm. It makes you cute.”

Another truth the romance novels take for granted, and one I didn’t believe until now. The token resistance, where one lover withdraws as the other coaxes her out. Like how Sakuya slowly pried my arms from my chest. I wanted to stay hidden, but I wanted more her effort in exposing me. That made it worthwhile, when I stood there with my chest bared again. I cringed, scared of her judgment. Scared of being less pretty than her.

She didn’t judge me. She did something else, something I didn’t expect. She leaned down, bringing her face on level with my chest, and put her mouth on my left nipple. I felt her lips around that sensitive spot, felt her tongue on it. She firmed her lips against the bulk of my breast, putting pressure on it. She gave it a short and gentle suck, like a baby nursing.

I gasped, sparking tingles running all through me. The feeling was sharp, intense. It was the same when she moved to my right nipple, and gave the same kiss there. My hands were on her head, my fingers clawing into her hair. I used her for balance. I would have doubled over without her to lean on.

She pulled her mouth from my chest, but she didn’t stand up straight. She slipped her hands into the waistband of my trousers, her palms on my hips.

“Out of this, now,” she said. “And no more being shy.”

I didn’t struggle. She pushed her hands down my legs, down the length of my thighs, past my knees and calves, down to my ankles, pulling my pants down. I was naked, but for the puddle of sackcloth around my feet. Sakuya was bent over, her face too close to my groin. I cringed again.

Sakuya chuckled, easing my nerves.

“You’re like me,” she said. “You keep it trimmed.”

I looked down, saw her examining the stringy patch of black hair on my pubis. Yes, I trimmed. I felt cleaner that way. But I didn’t want her staring right at it, let alone commenting on it.

I pressed my hands on either side of her head, yanked her back up to get her eyes off my crotch.

“Let me see for myself,” I said. “It’s my turn.”

She nodded. She took a step back, stood up straight, let her arms hang at her sides.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m all yours.”

I took a breath, swallowed. I stepped forward, feeling giddy with the freedom of all bare skin. The night air was cool on me. The floor chilled the soles of my feet. I held my hands up to Sakuya, ready to pull the dress off her, but I stopped.

“Um,” I said. “How do I take this thing off?”

Sakuya laughed again, but still softly. Hhm hm hm hm!

“I forgot. You’re a practical girl.” She pointed a finger behind her, at the top of her back. “Start with the laces.”

I padded around behind her. I remembered the web of lace at the back of her dress, holding her top together. I put my hands on her shoulders, on the back of her neck, feeling for a knot to untie. I found it, hidden under her hair. She cocked her head to the side, shifting her hair out of the way. I pulled at the lace-knot between my thumb and forefinger, pulled the knot apart as if untying a pair of shoes. Those two lengths of lace hung free, loosening the topmost part of the web. I tugged on the loosest laces, loosening more and more, until the dress no longer clung her. I put my hands under the dress top, my palms on her bare shoulders, and slipped it down her arms. The dress sloughed off her torso, baring her from the waist up but for a lace bra.

“It unties the same way,” she said.

I stifled a bit of annoyance. She was so confident in her chest. I decided to test that confidence. Her bra looped up over both shoulders and around her back, making three knots. I untied the one on her back, and the strings fell forward, hanging over her belly from the bra cups. I undid the shoulder-knots, one at a time, and the bra fell away. It landed on the floor before Sakuya’s feet. Her breasts stood out in the weakening sunset light, rosy little tips pointing upward.

She had fondled me, so I had every right to return that favor. I stood up close to her, pressing my chest into her back. I reached around and took one boob in each hand. They were warm. I cupped the bottoms in my palms, feeling their weight. I gently squeezed them, feeling them resist my grip. I pinched the nipples, feeling them stand stiff against my fingers.

Sakuya didn’t stop me. She leaned into me, pressing her back into my front. She let out a pleased moan.

“Not too hard,” she said.

I was done there. Having fulfilled the impulse to play with her boobs, it was time to move on. I let go of her chest, slid my hands down over her stomach. Her belly was smooth, curving in around her navel. I pushed down into her dress, wedged my fingers between her hips and the cloth on them. She wore a pair of drawers under her dress. I pulled them down, over her pelvis and down her legs. I had to bend to get low enough, and I got an up-close view of her rear. Two shapely, perky protruding butt cheeks carved from the same fair skin that covered the rest of her.

Sakuya was naked, standing in the crumpled remains of her dress. She looked like a pearly-perfect goddess from some Western mythology book. Every curve of her paid tribute to sexuality. Her long legs, her shapely butt, her hips shrinking into a dainty midriff before flaring into her shoulders, supporting a graceful neck. She turned around to face me, so I could see her front. Her breasts, round shape and right size. Her flat tummy, leading down to the V-shape of her groin. Her patch of pubic hair was just larger than mine, but thinner, wispy silver curls showing the skin beneath.

Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she looked at me. Her eyes on mine.

“My turn again,” she said. “I’ll do the all the work, like I said. You can stop me.”

I wouldn’t stop her. Nothing would upset me, offend me, or make me feel so uncomfortable as to put my clothes back on. We had gone too far for that.

Sakuya closed her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed me again. I kissed her back, putting my arms around her neck. I was ready to pull myself closer, press our bodies together, but she had something else in mind.

One of her hands was on the back of my head, again holding me in place to kiss me. Her other hand slipped its way down, caressing my waist, my hip, and into the gap between my legs. She cupped her palm over my pubic mound, and pressed her fingers to the soft tissue of my vaginal opening. Her fingers were long. Her fingernails glanced on the bottom curve of my butt cheeks.

I gasped again, my voice choking with sudden intense sensation. The muscles in my legs tensed, and I stood up on tiptoes.

I pulled back from the kiss far enough to say, “No, don’t—”

She ignored me. She rubbed her fingers on my crotch, and used her forefinger and middle finger to spread my vaginal lips slightly apart. This exposed the fleshy little button of my clitoris. She pressed on it.

I grit my teeth, clamping my arms tight around Sakuya’s neck. Pleasure shot up into my belly, down both legs. My head throbbed as if pumped too full of blood. I groaned against the crook of Sakuya’s neck.

I had never before felt anything like this. I knew what it felt like to rub my own privates. Everyone needs some self-help now and again. But it was beyond different, having another person touch me. It multiplied the feeling, gave it a searing sharp edge that was near unbearable.

I was glad when Sakuya took her hand out from between my legs. I couldn’t endure more stimulation like that. I hung onto Sakuya’s shoulders, my legs weak.

“It’s time,” she whispered, her mouth near my ear. “Lay on the bed. I’ll take care of you.”

---

I pulled away from Sakuya, stepped backwards until my legs touched the bed frame. I sat down, feeling the comforter under my bare butt, and scooted around so I could lie down along the bed’s length. Sakuya followed me to the bed, and stood beside it for a moment, letting us take in the sight of each other. There I was, a virgin girl naked on the covers, waiting for her first sexual experience with all the expected nerves and fluster. There she was, a much prettier virgin girl standing over her first partner, prepared to take the dominant role. We both knew our place.

Sakuya sat down on the bed beside me, giving me a profile view of her body. Her skinny midriff and her breasts suspended over it. She reached one hand up and touched the side of my head. She stroked my hair, caressed my temple and my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch, relishing it. She was trying to calm me, I could tell. Trying to relax me, soothe me with touch.

I did as she wanted. I took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. With that breath, I exhaled my body’s tension. I let my muscles go slack, lay on the bed limp, still and vulnerable.

Sakuya smiled. She swung her legs up onto the bed and lay prone beside me, but propped up on her elbows. Her hands were on either side of my head, her fingers gently working my scalp, the weight and warmth of her palms on my cheeks. She leaned up, bringing her face near to mine, and I thought she meant to kiss me. Her lips pressed not on my mouth, but on my forehead.

She kissed my brow, an inch below the hairline. Her lips were moist and soft. The feel of it was different, but no less intense than when she had touched my privates a minute ago. Kissing my forehead contained no eroticism, no sexual intent. It was pure affection. I wanted to respond, wanted to wrap my arms and legs around her in a full-body hug. But now wasn’t the time, I knew. She wanted to be the giver, so I stayed still and let her give.

Sakuya put the same kiss on my cheekbone, just below my left eye. Then she kissed my right cheek, and the tip of my nose. I could feel the gravity of her face so close to mine, feel us breathing each other’s breath. My mouth hung open in relaxation, and Sakuya took advantage. She kissed me on the mouth, but not in the usual way. She didn’t fully press her lips into mine. Instead she flicked her tongue along my lips, tickling and teasing. She put the moist underside of her bottom lip to my top lip, and let the two glide on each other. She did the same for my bottom lip, gliding it against her top.

The lips are a sensitive part of the body, and Sakuya made full use of that. The sensations were so sharp that I could call them painful, but in only the best way. She pulled her face back, giving room for her hands. She spent another minute massaging my head, kneading her fingers into my temples, my cheeks, my jaw, my chin. Then her hands were on my neck, working the bunchy tissues there. Her hands were on my throat, the vulnerable organ that carried my life’s breath in and out of me. This was most representative of making myself susceptible to harm, and of the power in trust Sakuya gained by not hurting me.

Her hands went down, spreading over my shoulders, pressing down my arms, squeezing my breasts. As I laid on my back, there wasn’t much of my boobs for her to squeeze, but that didn’t stop her. I felt the fatty flesh of my chest compress under her hold. The pads of her thumbs pressed onto my nipples, then flicked them back and forth. Another sensitive spot, and my body tensed. Sakuya didn’t discourage it this time, for this was a different kind of tension.

I groaned, and she took that as a cue to kiss me again. This was an actual, full-on kiss, but slow and deep. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, slicked it along mine, and the two danced on each other. Sakuya’s hands went lower as we kissed. Her fingers pressed on each of my ribs, and the spaces between them. She touched circles into the muscles of my belly, and massaged around my navel. Then she clamped her hands onto my hips. My hip bones were in her palms, and her thumbs pressed into the flesh of my pelvis. She worked down along the sides of my hips, her fingers pushing on my butt cheeks, her thumbs kneading the tops of my thigh muscles. Her left hand moved out, wedging in between the bed and my back, so she could have a full hand on my butt. Her right hand moved in, brushing over my pubic hair, and pushing in between my legs.

I inhaled sharply, in anticipation of her touching my most sensitive spot. As if to keep me still, Sakuya pushed her mouth on mine harder. Even her tongue went stiff on mine, like one wrestler pinning another. I relaxed again, letting my body ease. Sakuya’s hand again pressed into the apex between my thighs. My pubic hair crumpled under her palm, leaving her fingers to work the opening of my vagina.

I moaned and I groaned, but every sound in approval. I couldn’t keep myself completely still. I wrapped my arms around Sakuya’s neck and shoulders, just so I could squeeze her to make my pleasure known. I spread my legs apart, giving her hand freedom on me. Her forefinger and ring finger kneaded my vaginal lips and separated them. Her middle finger touched my clitoris and the opening below it. She wasn’t rough. She applied only the gentlest pressure, only the slightest movements. Even that was unbearable. I didn’t have the physical attention to kiss Sakuya, so I pressed my face into her neck and hugged her shoulders tight. My legs went crooked with pleasure. My knees bent halfway. My ankles cocked at strange angles. My toes curled.

Slowly, Sakuya increased the pace. She kept working my vaginal lips, but put more pressure and movement on my clitoris. I grit my teeth, clenching my jaw tight. A nnnnnnrrrggh noise came out of me.

“Reimu,” Sakuya said, between heaving breaths. “Reimu?”

My head pounding, my loins throbbing, I barely had the consciousness to understand my own name. I responded with a sound, huuuuungh?

Sakuya kept working my groin, kept kneading my tenderest place. My body was bubbling up to a climax.

“I love you, Reimu,” said Sakuya. “I love you. Tell me you love me too.”

The emotion of those words, raw power of feeling, overwhelmed me.

“I love you too, Sakuya!” I said. “I love yoooouuuu—!”

The last word stretched into a blissed squeal. Sakuya doubled and tripled the intensity on my groin. She rubbed hard on my clitoris, stuck her middle finger into my vagina up to the second knuckle. The feel of something stiff inside me pushed me over the edge. Every muscle in me ceased up. The pressure in my pelvis felt like a battering ram hitting a mountain. I was overcome in the rhythmic, throbbing tension of the strongest orgasm I had ever experienced.

It also lasted longer than any orgasm before. I don’t know how long I clung to Sakuya’s neck. The pleasure wore away. The muscle contractions ground themselves to stillness. I knew I was done when, looking down, I saw Sakuya withdraw her hand from my groin, and a string of sticky liquid trailed up with her fingers.

My arms loosened from Sakuya. I lay back, limp and relaxed. My breathing was still heavy, my chest heaving up and down.

Sakuya cuddled up next to me. She rest her right hand on my belly, still slick with my fluids. She lay her head on my shoulder.

“I guess I did well,” she said.

“Uh...,” I said, still catching my breath. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.” She inched herself up and kissed me on the cheek. Like the kiss on the forehead, simple affection.

But it wasn’t fair, I thought. She had done all the work, just as promised. She gave everything and received nothing. I should return it to her.

“Do you want...?” I swallowed. “Should I... do you, now?”

“Not right now,” she said. “I’m tired. Let’s rest.”

Of course she would be tired. Walking all the way to the shrine. Enduring the anxious awkwardness of two girls learning to forgive each other. Then expending all this energy on pleasing me. I would want nothing but sleep after all that.

“Okay,” I said. And if I couldn’t give to her in the same way, then I would let her rest. I rolled onto my side so that I faced her. Heat escaped from between my back and the bed. The skin on my back and butt was clammy with sweat, cooling in the night air.

I put my arms around Sakuya, held her close to me. She rest her forehead against my breastbone. Her boobs pressed into my ribs. I felt her pubic hair tickling my thigh, and our legs intertwined. So much skin touching.

We would fall asleep like this, I realized. I would wake up tomorrow morning, find the Scarlet Mansion’s maid naked in my arms, and feel a sickening rush of guilt and doubt. What was I thinking? What had I done?

In fact, those feelings should come right now. Any second, I would regret doing this with Sakuya. I would silently berate myself, and scramble for some way to do damage control. We could keep it a secret. We could forget it had ever happened. Anything to get my old, unsexed life back.

But I felt none of that. The guilt didn’t come. All I knew was that I held Sakuya in my arms, the girl who had shared with me pain and hatred and death. But that was over. The past was gone.

She was just a girl who loved me.

I gave her a squeeze.

“Maybe later then,” I said.

She said nothing, but nodded against me, and returned the squeeze.

We said nothing more. We lay there and drifted off to sleep, us both in the arms of our forgiven.