Chapter 31

"Beibei" is a term specifically used for the person who is being addressed.

After hugging the shy Yamanbagiri Kunihiro for a while, Fuyuki helped him put the sheets back on, and then pulled the katana to sit on the veranda where she usually sat.

Today's attendant was Kashuu Kiyomitsu, but the Saniwa, who hadn't been to the citadel for a long time, didn't notice the attendant assignment list and assigned him to the horse-riding duty instead, causing a conflict in the tasks.

However, the Saniwa's orders come first, and besides...

Fuyuki looked up, her eyes wet with guilt: "I'm sorry, Kiyomitsu..."

Heart-melting by the Saniwa's cuteness, Kashuu Kiyomitsu clutched his chest and shook his head vigorously: "Next time, next time you must use me properly!"

How could the master be wrong! The mistake lies with the servants' schedule!

Even though he looked at Fuyuki with reluctance, Kashuu Kiyomitsu could only roll up his sleeves and go take care of the horse.

Fuyuki leaned back against Yamanbagiri Kunihiro, clutching a corner of the white sheet in her hand. She swung her leg and pointed into the distance: "Yamanbagiri, look, the cherry blossoms are always beautiful."

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro looked up and responded somewhat awkwardly, "Mm."

Dongshu leaned back, looking up at the sky. The white clouds floated by, so clean and beautiful.

The Saniwa (Master) took all of this into view; this was her Honmaru, her current home.

Intrigued, Fuyuki pointed to the evergreen cherry blossom and said, "As long as it blooms, I will always be here. Don't be lonely."

"Um."

"Call me if you're unhappy, I can listen to you." Fuyuki pulled his blanket tighter, his soft face radiating warmth.

"Um."

“Yamabakiri…” Fuyuki sighed, cupping his face in his hands, and the tsukumogami tensed up instantly.

But she only pursed her lips nervously and uttered a single syllable: "...Mmm."

Randomly, due to his own inconsiderate behavior, he pulled down the blanket over his head.

Fuyuki looked at him, then suddenly stood up, took two steps forward, and when the tsukumogami didn't react, she gently tugged at him.

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro looked up and met the eyes of the little Saniwa. His dark eyes shone brightly, and his fair little hands tugged at the sheet he never left, as if to say, "Why aren't you leaving?"

A petal drifted by, sweeping past the Saniwa's eyes. She closed her eyes, and then another pink petal landed on her head.

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro leaned closer, raised his hand, and took the petal: "Master, I..."

It was a cherry blossom blizzard. It happened so suddenly, but Fuyuki recognized the owner of this cherry blossom rain and smiled, "Yes."

Roles reversed.

She became the one who said "hmm".

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro grasped Fuyuki's hand, his beautiful eyes looking directly at her for the first time, then looking away the next second, his words so soft they seemed to disappear in the next second.

He mustered his courage.

"Why didn't you call me...?" The words in the middle were too vague for Fuyuki to hear clearly. She walked closer, almost touching him.

She tilted her head and blinked: "What?"

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro pursed his lips, his eyelashes drooping, his fingers curling and tightening: "Why don't you call me that anymore? Is it because I'm a fake?"

“Even intimate terms of address can only be used once…” His ears turned red, and these words, which sounded more like grievances than complaints, made the tsukumogami lose the courage to continue.

Dongshu understood.

She didn't say anything, but simply crouched down and snuggled into Yamanbagiri Kunihiro's arms.

Her head rested against his, her little hand holding the pretty knot, Dongshu closed her eyes, and time seemed to stand still.

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro reached out and embraced the Saniwa's small, soft, and fragile body—

His master.

Not getting an answer, his green eyes darkened, and the muscles in his arms tensed slightly before quickly relaxing.

What exactly are they expecting?

It's just a fake, yet it dares to covet its owner's affection.

The master had been gone for a long time. He was not as eloquent as other tsukumogami, and his inferiority complex made it difficult for the young master to get close to him.

Children are emotionally sensitive and naturally more inclined to be near cheerful and gentle tsukumogami.

What's going on? Calling himself Yamanbagiri, he really does prefer the real thing, doesn't he? His imitations...

The Saniwa suddenly moved, her small hand grasping one of his fingers, her eyes slightly open, looking somewhat dazed from being closed for so long.

An affectionate term escaped her lips: "Beibei."

"Want to hear this? This is a special name for you. Now that you've given it your approval, I'll keep calling you that."

She stared at the blond tsukumogami, gripped the knot tightly, and pulled hard, so that most of the sheet that was originally draped over him was now covering Fuyuki.

She shifted her position, covering herself completely, and closed her eyes for a while, feeling a little sleepy.

So, I'll take a nap.

Fuyuki's peaceful sleeping face fell into Yamanbagiri Kunihiro's eyes, and her blond hair, no longer covered by the white sheet, was completely exposed to the sunlight.

Sunlight danced and sparkled on it.

Her red earlobes were covered by a white sheet, and a very faint response drifted into the air: "Master..."

She's being openly pampered.

There were no green vegetables at lunch today, and Dongshu secretly cheered in her heart, happily picking up her utensils and starting to eat.

Seeing the little flowers blooming around the Saniwa, Shokudaikiri Mitsutada exchanged a knowing glance with Kasen Kanesada before turning away in tacit agreement.

As long as the owner is happy.

After lunch, it's time for a happy afternoon nap, followed by a full afternoon of energy.

Dongshu ran to the tree, cupped her hand to her mouth like a megaphone, and shouted loudly, "Xiaoye—"

Koyo Samon lowered her head, put down what she was holding, and nimbly jumped down from the persimmon tree.

He stood before the Saniwa, his eyes somewhat fierce, yet he gave off a docile feeling: "Master."

"Hmm." Fuyuki noticed the orange hue peeking out from his arms. "How many persimmons did Xiaoye pick today?"

Xiaoye took out the text and showed it to her, honestly answering, "Two."

He tilted his head, looking at the Saniwa who was a little shorter than him: "You... want some? Persimmons are delicious."

Dongshu hesitated, then shook his head: "Not today, but I'll definitely try next time."

“However…” Looking at the bright orange-red persimmon in the little knife’s hand, plump and tempting, it was obviously very sweet and had no bitter taste, “Xiao Ye is so good at picking persimmons.”

Every time she saw the persimmons in Sayo Samonji's hand, they were the kind that looked delicious.

“It’s nothing to have found persimmons like these; I’m quite skilled at it,” Sayo Samonji said earnestly.

Dongshu imagined himself skillfully picking persimmons; it would take a long time to achieve that.

Shaking her head to interrupt her reverie, she clenched her fist and raised it to her chest: "Xiaoye, you're amazing!"

"Is this all you need?" Sayo Samonji didn't quite understand what the Saniwa meant by praising her.

Fuyuki reached out and pinched his face, which remained serious throughout, then spread his arms and gestured: "Yeah, that's it, super—amazing, Yoru."

As he spoke, his arms formed a circle stretched to their maximum extent.

As the Saniwa made her movements, Sayo Samonji curled the corners of her mouth, revealing a rare smile.

Fuyuki's praise still echoed in my ears:

"Xiaoye, you're amazing!"