EPISODE 24~THE HEALER PASTRY
635 Words
The evening air was cool, but the tension between the three of them was finally starting to thaw, replaced by a heavy, quiet sincerity. Saito took a small, hesitant bite of the almond pastry, his eyes never leaving Shisei’s face. Toshiro finally stepped closer, pulling out the chair next to Saito and sitting down—not as a guard, but as a friend.
"Shisei," Toshiro began, his voice rough and stripped of its usual cold authority. "I never apologized. For treating you like a target instead of a person. I thought keeping you alive was the same as letting you live. I was wrong."
Saito looked down at his scarred hand, his voice trembling. "And I... I tried to wrap you in my own fears. I was so scared of losing you that I forgot to ask what you wanted. I’m sorry for making my love feel like another weight for you to carry."
Shisei looked from one to the other. The two men who had once been ready to draw blood over her were now sitting side-by-side, sharing the same space, their pride completely discarded.
Shisei let out a long, shaky breath, her fingers tracing the flour dust on her apron. "It’s okay. I’m not that girl anymore anyway. I’ve stopped dreaming about being an idol... about the stage, the lights, the music. That was a dream for a girl who didn't know how dangerous the world was. Now? I’m just a baker. It’s safer this way."
She forced a small, sad smile, but the light in her eyes was dim. "No one hunts a baker. No one fights wars over a girl who sells bread. I’ve buried that idol version of me under the flour."
"No," Saito said firmly, his eyes suddenly burning with a protective fire. He reached out, his bandaged hand stopping just short of hers. "You’re a baker because you’re hiding, Shisei. Not because you stopped loving the music. I used to watch you practice when you thought no one was looking. That joy... that wasn't a girl who didn't know the world. That was a girl who was too big for it."
Toshiro leaned in, his expression intense. "We didn't dismantle two empires just so you could spend the rest of your life hiding in a kitchen, Shisei. We did it so you could stand in the middle of a stage and not have to look at the exits."
"But the risk—" Shisei started, her voice cracking.
"The risk is ours now," Toshiro interrupted, his hand resting on the table near hers. "Let us be the floor beneath the stage. You don't have to be 'the Princess' or 'the fugitive.' Just be the voice that makes people forget their troubles for a few minutes. We'll be in the front row. And in the shadows. And at the doors. Not to cage you... but to make sure no one ever interrupts your song again."
Saito pushed the notebook he had been carrying toward her. He had flipped to a page where he had sketched her—not as she was now, but as she looked when she sang, radiant and untethered.
"Chase it again, Shisei," Saito whispered. "For yourself. Not for the fans, not for your father, and definitely not for us. Do it because the world is too quiet without you."
Shisei looked at the sketch, then at the two men who were finally, truly, on her side. For the first time in six months, she felt a different kind of heat in her chest—not the blush of confusion, but the slow, steady burn of a dream she thought she had killed.
"You really think I can?" she asked, a single tear escaping.
"I think the world doesn't stand a chance against you," Toshiro said.
- Writer
