*Chu.*
Kaede made herself keep watching. Evidence demanded collection.
The last icon of Fujimori dignity was licking a man's chest in the ancestors' hall, purring between passes.
Kaede's knees, drilled through years of formal seiza, nearly went out from under her.
'She is... My sister is currently...' The assessment refused to fit anywhere inside her, no matter which way she turned it. And none of it explained the red marks. On that single question, the investigation stayed open.
Then Ayame's hand wandered somewhere with unmistakable intent, and Quinlan moved first.
*SMACK.*
His palm cracked across her silk-bare backside.
"Kyaa!?"
The yelp came out at full noble volume. Kaede's body locked solid, and behind the doorframe, the investigation closed.
Confirmed. Struck, bare-handed, on the body, in front of the ancestors, and every doctrine Kaede owned held precisely one procedure for that event: steel, drawn, before the echo finished.
