Chapter 26
by Need_More_SleepChapter 26: Hands
As an expert in kyudo, Fujiwara Yuki could naturally discern whether someone had achieved inner tranquility from the tension in their muscles and the rhythm of their breathing.
Kyudo demanded the unity of mind and body, the merging of archers and arrows.
If the mind was clouded with distractions, unable to focus with calm and equanimity, the released arrow would waver like a fluttering leaf, failing to reach the target’s center.
Yet despite knowing this, Sakuya was still nervous.
Nervous from the warm breath brushing her ear. Nervous from being pressed so close in front of an audience. Nervous from the memories of excessive intimacy it stirred.
Her emotions laid bare, Sakuya scrambled for an excuse.
“Um… It’s just my first time holding a bow. I’m not used to it.”
“Relax your mind and body,” Yuki murmured, her right hand gently patting Sakuya’s shoulder.
True to the underclassman’s description, her tone was kind and patient, like a skilled teacher guiding her pupil.
“The essence of archery lies in serenity and focus—free from distractions.”
Nearly caged in Yuki’s embrace, Sakuya could feel the firm yet soft contours of the girl’s chest against her back.
The crisp, youthful scent unique to her filled Sakuya’s nose.
Their arms overlapped along the curve of their elbows, their delicate hands pressed together on the dark yellow wooden bow grip.
Yuki’s palms were slightly cooler than most.
So when she slid her fingers between Sakuya’s, prying apart her clenched grip, the friction of skin against skin sent an odd shiver through Sakuya’s frail body.
Cool, but not ticklish—an ambiguous, indescribable sensation.
It was 4 PM, the slanting sunlight stretching their shadows long, nearly merging them like the back and palm of a hand.
“Nock the arrow, hook the string, aim for the center, draw—then release.” Her soft voice continued explaining the kyudo techniques by Sakuya’s ear.
Her right hand was enveloped, clenched into a fist—as if wholly under Yuki’s control.
Nocking the arrow, drawing the bowstring taut, Sakuya struggled to aim at the target. Their combined strength pulled the arrow back before releasing it with a powerful whoosh.
Thwack!
Sakuya’s mind had wandered during the process, only snapping back to reality when the arrow struck the target.
The ponytailed underclassman clapped wildly in praise, her eyes shining with excitement, her desire to recruit Sakuya into kyudo practically radiating off her.
She seized the dazed Sakuya, eagerly pressing,
“So? Fujiwara-senpai’s friend, did you find inner peace while shooting? Did you feel that sense of release, like everything inside you unfolding?”
Sakuya lowered the bow, calming herself from the strange sensations, and replied slowly, “Yeah, it was… nice.”
A lie—peace was the last thing she’d felt. Just a jumble of weird emotions.
Yuki had already let go of her, stepping back to shield her eyes from the glaring sun as she surveyed the distant target.
“Your first shot—aren’t you going to see how you did?”
“This wasn’t really my achievement,” Sakuya waved her hands dismissively. “Let’s just skip it.”
“Senpai, let’s go check together! Who knows, you might fall in love with kyudo and join the club!”
The underclassman’s desperate recruitment efforts left Sakuya no choice but to reluctantly follow her to the target.
Wow. Two points.
“It’s okay, senpai! All beginners are like this. Just come practice at our dojo more often!” The underclassman offered comforting words.
Sakuya shook her head wryly. “It’s fine, I don’t really mind.”
She truly had no talent for sports. Without Yuki guiding her, she probably wouldn’t even have been able to draw the bow properly.
Still too weak.
When she and the underclassman returned to the short-distance shooting line, Yuki had already picked up her bow again, meticulously polishing the wooden frame with a clean cloth.
Her movements were gentle and practiced, but for some reason, watching her made Sakuya think of herself.
“How was it?” Yuki asked without looking up.
“Two points.”
“Two points?” Yuki’s head snapped up in surprise. “Not bad, but… yeah, no talent.”
The underclassman, for some inexplicable reason, kept trying to lift Sakuya’s spirits.
“Fujiwara-senpai is always so strict about this. Just hitting the target is good for a beginner, especially at 28 meters!”
Sakuya was taken aback. This girl genuinely wanted her to join the kyudo club.
Too bad that while kyudo was a noble pursuit, she simply wasn’t cut out for physical exertion.
Yuki, however, seemed to have finally run out of patience. Her eyes flicked toward the other practicing archers, her smile polite but pointed as she reminded the underclassman.
“Seiko, shouldn’t you be training? Weren’t you taking your shodan exam in two weeks?”
“Ah! I almost forgot! Gotta go practice now. See you later, Fujiwara-senpai! And senpai’s friend!”
The girl named Seiko, so enthusiastic just moments ago, now bolted like a startled rabbit, waving hastily before disappearing.
“Bye.”
With Seiko gone, the space within 20 meters was devoid of other humans, leaving only Yuki and Sakuya staring at each other.
Yuki reverted to her usual haughty demeanor, plucking the bowstring as she issued an order:
“She’s gone. Why are you still standing there? Go fetch Master’s arrows.”
Yuki’s ability to switch masks was as swift as ever.
Sakuya muttered an obedient “Okay” and turned to leave—
—only for her collar to be yanked back, the fabric tightening around her neck uncomfortably.
She turned her head, meeting Yuki’s smirk full of malice as the girl reiterated:
“When we’re alone, you say: ‘Understood, Master.’”
“……”
At that moment, Sakuya finally understood.
Yuki simply enjoyed seeing her flustered, watching her reluctantly submit to humiliation.
This wasn’t discipline—it was teasing.
A resigned sense of tolerance washed over her. Fine. If she likes it, I’ll play along.
“Understood, Master.”
Her voice was quiet, but in the murmuring dojo, it was clear enough for Yuki to hear.
Yuki grinned, her eyes curving into crescents. “Louder. Master can’t hear you~”
“……”
Though the archers in the dojo were few and far from them, Yuki’s demand would undoubtedly draw attention if shouted.
Social suicide or…?
Cornered, Sakuya tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear, took a deep breath, and steeled herself for the plunge.
Under Yuki’s slightly stunned gaze, she stepped closer, one deliberate step at a time.
With newfound courage, she decided to return the favor.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she leaned toward Yuki’s right ear—
—and exhaled softly against it, enunciating each word with deliberate clarity.
“Understood, Master~”
Her voice was low and distinct, but the excessive closeness lent it an undeniable hint of intimacy.