Chapter 12: The Spider in Red
An old friend from days past. What a delightful reunion.
—
Kirika woke slowly, the last soft tendrils of sleep still clinging to her thoughts.
The water around her room-pool was warm, still, and pleasantly dim in the early light. For one lazy second, she floated in that half-conscious place between dreaming and waking, drifting just under the surface with her tail hanging low and her hair fanning around her face.
Then she noticed the silhouette at the edge of the pool.
Kirika’s eyes snapped open.
Rachnera stood there with all eight legs arranged in a poised, elegant line, arms folded under her chest, expression caught somewhere between smug and annoyed.
Kirika burst from the water with a splash, shoving wet hair out of her face. “Rachnera?! What are you doing in my room this early?”
Rachnera sighed dramatically. “Ruining what was supposed to be a much sexier entrance, obviously.”
Kirika blinked. “...What?”
“I had a vision, darling.” Rachnera gestured lazily with one hand. “Me, waiting in the shadows. You waking up. A few strategic threads. Maybe some silk around your wrists. Perhaps your tail. You know, the usual.”
She clicked her tongue and looked down at the pool with theatrical disdain.
“Unfortunately, I forgot that you sleep underwater now.”
Kirika stared at her for a second, then snorted. “So that’s what this is about?”
“Yes.” Rachnera uncrossed her arms and planted one hand on her hip. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to do dramatic string work on someone who is submerged? Strings underwater are annoying. They drift around, don't stick as well as usual. Not to mention that getting them under the surface without looking ridiculous is nearly impossible.”
Kirika rubbed at one eye, trying and failing not to laugh. “How long have you been standing there?”
“A minute.” Rachnera’s expression flattened. “Maybe two. Long enough to realize I had no good options and that waking you by dropping a pebble into the pool would have been beneath me.”
“Very noble of you.”
“I know.”
Kirika floated closer to the side and rested her arms on the edge of the pool. “Alright then. Since your evil morning ambush failed, what do you actually want?”
Rachnera was quiet for a beat.
That alone made Kirika pay more attention.
“I wanted to ask you to come somewhere with me,” the spider girl said at last.
Kirika lifted a brow. “That sounds suspiciously sincere.”
“Don’t make me regret this.” Rachnera let out a slow breath. “An old friend of mine is nearby. Or rather, her ship is. She sent me an invitation.”
“An old friend?”
Rachnera nodded. “A good one. Strange, but good. We haven’t seen each other in years. We wrote letters every now and then, but that’s not the same thing.”
Kirika tilted her head. “Then what’s the problem?”
Rachnera’s mouth twisted faintly. “The problem is that she’s... a lot. Very loud. Very affectionate. Very bad at respecting personal space.”
Kirika smiled. “You say that like it narrows it down.”
Rachnera gave her a flat look. “I am aware.”
She looked off toward the window for a moment, pretending it meant less than it did.
“It’s also been a long time,” she added more quietly. “And things change. People change. It’s annoying.”
Kirika watched her for a second. There was no smug grin, no taunting edge. Just a rare, unguarded uncertainty.
And that decided it.
“So you want me to come along for moral support?” Kirika asked.
Rachnera’s expression immediately sharpened again. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. I want you there because you’re curious, moderately tolerable, and less likely to embarrass me than Miia.”
Kirika smiled. “That sounded almost affectionate.”
“I welcome if you see that that way, darling.”
“Sure.” Kirika pushed herself up a little higher out of the pool. “Alright. I’ll come.”
Rachnera blinked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Kirika shrugged. “You asked me. That already makes this special.”
Rachnera huffed and looked away, but not before Kirika caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“I guess i should thank you then,” she muttered. “Get dressed. We should leave soon.”
Kirika frowned. “Shouldn’t we tell the others?”
Rachnera’s eyes glinted. “I was hoping to avoid that.”
Three minutes later, that hope was dead.
The household had assembled with alarming speed.
Kirika, freshly changed and still toweling water from her hair, stood in the hallway while Rachnera looked increasingly resigned.
Cerea had taken the news with knightly seriousness. “If Mistress Kirika is to leave the house while still lacking legs, then transport must be arranged.”
“Translation,” Rachnera muttered, “you don’t trust me.”
“Correct,” Cerea replied without hesitation.
Kirika sat sideways on Cerea’s back, one arm around the centaur’s shoulders and her tail draped carefully behind them. “I appreciate the honesty.”
Suu wobbled nearby in a bright, eager blob. “Suu is coming toooo.”
Rachnera sighed. “Why?”
Cerea answered before Suu could. “So I can throw her at pesky spiders in case they try something uncalled for.”
Suu gasped happily. “Suu is anti-spider ammunition!”
Kirika laughed so hard she nearly slid of Cerea’s back. “That is the worst sentence I’ve heard all week.”
“It is a practical precaution,” Cerea insisted.
Rachnera pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do all of you realize how rude this is?”
“No,” said Kirika.
“Yes,” said Cerea.
“Suu likes boats!” said Suu.
Rachnera clicked her tongue. “Wonderful. Let’s get this over with.”
And so the little expedition set out: a spider, a mermaid, a centaur, and a slime making their way toward the docks in the mild morning breeze.
The cruise ship came into view gradually, towering over the waterfront with polished white sides, gleaming rails, and enough glass and brass to make it look less like a ship and more like a floating luxury hotel.
Kirika let out a low whistle. “Your old friend works there?”
Rachnera nodded once. “Apparently.”
“Apparently?”
“It docked recently,” Rachnera said. “I recognized the name from one of her letters. I thought I was imagining it at first.”
Cerea adjusted Kirika slightly in her arms and eyed the ship with obvious suspicion. “It is much grander than I expected.”
“That’s because you expected some sort of spider den,” Rachnera drawled.
“I am still not fully convinced it is not one.”
At the gangway, a broad-shouldered human bouncer in a dark uniform held up a hand. “Boarding passes, please.”
Rachnera stepped forward before anyone else could speak. Her posture straightened, cool and confident.
“I’m here on invitation,” she said. “Tell Sadae Salticy that Rachnera is here.”
The bouncer’s expression changed instantly.
He looked Rachnera up and down again, then nodded with clear respect. “Please wait a moment.”
Kirika noticed it too. “That name means something around here,” she whispered.
Rachnera’s shoulders shifted faintly. “Apparently.”
Five minutes later, the bouncer returned. “Miss Salticy has confirmed it. You’re all free to enter.”
The words had barely left his mouth when a shrill voice exploded from above.
“RACHIIIIIIII!”
Everyone looked up.
Something huge dropped from an upper deck.
Kirika’s eyes widened. Cerea braced. Suu let out an excited bubble.
The figure came down fast, too fast, and for one split second Kirika was sure they were about to witness a catastrophic impact.
Instead, the massive spider woman landed almost soundlessly on the dock right beside them.
She was enormous.
Her spider half was broad and plush-looking, with thick, furry brown legs built more for springing than crawling. Her proportions were sturdier than Rachnera’s, her body fuller, heavier, and somehow even more imposing for it. Above the waist she was breathtaking: rich brown skin, a glamorous figure that filled out a scarlet cocktail dress to devastating effect, and thick dark hair that spilled in glossy waves over her shoulders.
She looked like a celebrity.
A celebrity who could probably pounce on a deer.
Before anyone could react, she threw all four arms around Rachnera and hauled her into a crushing embrace.
“It’s been ages! How have you been? Let me look at you! Oh my gosh, you got prettier!”
Rachnera made a deeply offended noise from somewhere inside the hug. “Sadae. Air.”
Kirika bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Sadae finally leaned back just enough to beam down at her old friend. “Still snippy. Wonderful.”
Then her large eyes snapped to the rest of the group.
“And you brought people!” she said, delighted. “Rachi, that means you found friends. I’m so happy.”
“Well, you could say I brought witnesses,” Rachnera said dryly. "Not sure if all of the people present would call me their friend."
“Even better.”
Sadae immediately closed the distance to Kirika, leaning in with warm, unabashed curiosity. “And who are you? Oh wow, you’re adorable. Pretty face, lovely hair, beautiful scales... Mero would be your name, right?”
Kirika blinked. “Kirika, actually.”
Sadae lit up. “Kirika! Sorry, darling, I guessed wrong. Still adorable.”
She turned to Cerea, eyes widening approvingly. “And hello there. Oh, broad shoulders, perfect posture, absolutely stunning legs. You must break hearts by accident.”
Cerea stiffened so hard Kirika could feel it through her entire body. “I—I most certainly do not!”
"Are you per chance to Centaur knight police girl Rachi told me about?" Sadae smiled at her warmly.
"Wh-Whatever this fiend has told you about me, most certainly none of it is true. My name is Centorea and I am just another girl in my masters care."
"Gotcha! Hahaha! Definitly sounds like the Cerea Rachi told me about. " Sadae laughed, then crouched slightly to peer at Suu. “And what are you? Oh, you are precious.”
“Suu is Suu!” the slime said proudly.
“Suu, I love you already.”
"There she goes again." Rachnera made a tired sound. “She’s doing the thing.”
Kirika smiled. “I can see why you were nervous.”
“I was not nervous.”
“Of course not,” Sadae said, already hooking one arm around Rachnera’s shoulders. “I bet she was terrified.”
“Terrified that I might have to tie you up and hang you from the ceiling fan maybe.”
“Ah~ I’m just as happy to see you again too, Rachi.” Sadae all but bounced with joy, then turned to the bouncer. “My good sir, would you mind handing my guests some temporary boarding passes for the day? Just charge them to my account for now.”
“No problem at all, Lady Salticy,” the bouncer replied. He had apparently anticipated the request already, because he was prepared to hand a card to each of the girls at once. After that, he nodded and stepped aside.
“Alright! Follow me!” And with that, Sadae led the way.
The first stop on the tour was the casino.
Kirika had expected something elegant.
She had not expected this.
Lights shimmered in gold and blue from every direction, reflected in polished surfaces and chandeliers above. Rich carpets swallowed footsteps, and the air was filled with the soft clink of glasses, murmured voices, spinning roulette wheels, and the pleasant mechanical songs of slot machines.
Suu nearly vibrated out of shape. “Shiiiiny.”
Cerea narrowed her eyes at the gaming tables. “This place seems engineered to part fools from their coin.”
“It is,” said Rachnera.
“That is the point,” added Sadae cheerfully.
Staff greeted her as they passed.
“Morning, Miss Salticy.”
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Salticy.”
One server even leaned in to ask if she’d be singing the evening set.
Kirika watched the exchange with interest. Sadae returned each greeting by name, easy and warm, completely at home.
“You really are important here,” Kirika said.
Sadae laughed. “Oh, I don’t know about important. Memorable, maybe. Helpful. Loud. Good at making people feel looked after.”
“She’s also impossible to ignore,” Rachnera said.
Sadae squeezed her shoulder. “And you used to cling to me every time a card game turned against you.”
Rachnera turned slowly. “Excuse me?”
Kirika perked up. “Oh? That sounds like a story.”
“It is not.”
“It absolutely is,” Sadae said. “She had the worst bluffing face when she was younger. Every time she lied, her eyes got this little twitch and all her back legs shifted.”
“That happened once.”
"It twitched every single time." Sadae traced her finger up Rachnera’s face, passed her big eyes, and stopped beside the middle right spider eye. “This one right here. Every time.”
Rachnera said nothing and tried very hard not to blush.
Kirika laughed. “So what I’m hearing is that you were bad at cards.”
“I was excellent at cards. I was bad at pretending not to be annoyed.”
“That part,” said Sadae, “has not changed at all.”
At a nearby machine, Suu had somehow wrapped half her upper body around a slot machine lever.
“Suu, no,” Cerea said immediately.
“But shiny box wants pulling.”
“Shiny box is how they get you.”
Sadae bit back a laugh. “You know what? I like her attitude.”
“I gathered that when you said so three separate times,” Rachnera replied.
Kirika glanced sidelong at Rachnera. The spider girl was still snarky, still guarded, but she looked… looser. Not just performing for the room. Actually comfortable.
That alone made the outing worth it.
The spa area was quieter, dimmer, all soft music and warm lighting.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Where the casino had been glittering and loud, the spa felt muffled and cocoon-like, all gentle fountains, aromatic steam, folded towels, and smooth stone.
“This,” said Sadae proudly, “is my second kingdom.”
Kirika looked around. “You work here too?”
“Mhm.” Sadae’s smile softened into something calmer, more grounded. “Background singer in the evenings, masseuse here during the day. Sometimes both. Depends on the schedule.”
“I have to admit,” Kirika said, “I did not picture you as a spa professional.”
Sadae laughed. “Because I look like I could bench-press a piano?”
“That was exactly it, yes.”
She grinned. “You’d be amazed how much people relax when they realize these big scary spider arms are actually very good at getting knots out of their shoulders. It also helps having four hands rather than just two. Hehehehe~”
There was real fondness in her voice. Pride, too, but not boastful pride. The simple kind that came from liking your work.
“I like this place,” Sadae continued. “People come in all tense. So hurried and tired. Then they leave breathing easier. That matters to me.”
Kirika nodded. “That’s... actually really nice.”
“I know. Shocking.”
Cerea, meanwhile, had been eyeing the hot stone area like it might attack her honor.
Sadae noticed instantly. “Would you like a shoulder treatment?”
Cerea straightened. “No. I merely observe.”
Three minutes later, she was seated stiffly on a wide cushioned chair while Sadae’s expert hands worked steadily at her shoulders.
The centaur lasted perhaps five seconds.
Then all the dignity went out of her face.
Kirika watched, delighted, as Cerea’s eyes fluttered shut and her whole posture began to melt.
“That,” Kirika whispered, “is the best thing I’ve seen all day.”
Rachnera smirked. “You should have seen the first time Sadae got me to hold still for one.”
“You bit me,” Sadae said.
“You deserved it.”
“And then you fell asleep in my lap for two hours.”
Rachnera immediately looked away. “Irrelevant.”
Suu was investigating bottles of scented oil with unholy fascination.
“Smells like flowers,” she announced.
“It’s lavender,” said Sadae.
“Suu wants to smell like flowers.”
A short while later, Suu indeed smelled like flowers and had somehow acquired a tiny decorative towel folded over her head like a hat. She was thrilled.
At one point Rachnera drifted off to inspect a side room, muttering something about architecture and web anchor points, which left Kirika momentarily alone with Sadae.
The older spider’s tone shifted when she spoke again. Still warm, but softer.
“How is she, really?”
Kirika blinked. “Rachnera?”
Sadae nodded. “She acts the same in letters as she does in person. Funny, difficult, sharp as a blade. But letters don’t tell you everything.”
Kirika considered the question. “She’s doing alright, I think. Better than she lets on. She’s... she’s attached to everyone more than she pretends. And I think she cares a lot more than she admits.”
Sadae smiled with immediate recognition. “That sounds exactly like her.”
“She was nervous about seeing you,” Kirika said.
“I know.” Sadae glanced toward where Rachnera had gone. “That’s why I’m glad she came anyway.”
Kirika looked at her for a second. “Were you worried about her?”
“Always.” Sadae’s smile softened. “She means a lot to me. We arachnes don’t have it easy. Humans are naturally scared of us. I got around that by just being myself. By being the big, fluffy goofball you see in front of you.” She let out a quiet laugh. “And for me, that worked.”
Her gaze drifted for a moment.
“But Rachnera doesn’t have that same advantage. A lot of people, especially humans, would look at her real self and decide she’s dangerous before she ever even opened her mouth. For a long time, I worried she’d end up surrounded by the wrong sort of people.”
Then Sadae looked back at Kirika, warm and utterly sincere.
“So I’m very happy Rachi managed to find happiness at your place. You have my thanks.”
The answer was so simple it landed harder than anything more dramatic would have.
Then Rachnera returned, and just like that the moment folded back into teasing and noise.
The pool deck sat open beneath the afternoon light, ocean wind moving through rows of lounge chairs and polished railings. Water glittered in every direction: the ship’s upper pool, the sea beyond, sunlight broken into a thousand moving shards.
This was where the pace finally slowed.
Sadae led them to a quieter section near the stern, where the noise of other guests dropped away and the endless blue horizon spread wide behind them.
Kirika noticed that Rachnera stopped being snippy for a minute.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Sadae rested her arms on the rail and looked out over the water. “You know,” she said, “the first time I told her I’d work somewhere like this, she laughed at me for ten minutes straight.”
Rachnera crossed her arms. “That’s because you described it terribly.”
“I said I wanted to sing for rich humans on the sea.”
“You said it while covered in stolen melon bread and hanging upside down from a drainage pipe.”
Kirika turned. “You what?”
Sadae’s grin widened. “Oh, she didn’t tell you?”
“She tells us lots of things,” Kirika said. “Mostly lies and threats.”
“I am standing right here,” Rachnera muttered.
Sadae continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “We met years ago, before either of us had settled into the human world properly. I was older, obviously—”
“Painfully obvious,” Rachnera cut in.
“—and she was smaller and grumpier.”
“I was not grumpier.”
“You absolutely were.”
Kirika smiled as Sadae launched into little stories.
How Rachnera used to refuse help until she was halfway stuck in something. How she’d insist she didn’t need company, then quietly show up anywhere Sadae happened to be. How the two of them once hid together under a bridge for half a night after a prank involving webbing, pastries, and a very angry cyclops fish vendor.
“She was cute,” Sadae said shamelessly. “All claws and sulking and pretending she didn’t care if anyone stayed.”
Rachnera arched a brow, lips curling. “Tempting. But then who would you cling to for emotional support?”
Sadae grinned. “Oh please. You’d miss me halfway over the railing.”
“Only because the paperwork would be exhausting,” Rachnera shot back.
Cerea cleared her throat. “This friendship appears to be built on a very unstable foundation.”
“It is,” said Sadae. “That’s what makes it strong.”
Kirika leaned against the rail, tail curled comfortably in Cerea’s arms. “You kept writing all these years?”
Sadae’s face softened. “Of course.”
Rachnera looked away, but there was a faint huff of amusement.
“I kept every letter,” Sadae added. “Even the rude ones.”
Kirika watched Rachnera’s shoulders tighten, then loosen.
“You kept those?” the younger spider asked, tone dry but lighter.
“All of them.”
“That was a terrible idea.”
“Maybe~”
Rachnera exhaled through her nose. “Ah. So we’re admitting to poor judgment now.”
"They just mean a lot to me."
There was a pause, warm and quiet.
Then Sadae said, without any teasing in it at all, “I’m glad you came, Rachi.”
Rachnera’s reply took a moment. “...I figured someone had to check if you have been terrorizing the staff.”
Sadae laughed softly. “And?”
Rachnera’s mouth quirked. “You’ve clearly gotten worse over the years. I might have to stop by more often in the future.”
“Wonderful.”
But Kirika saw the truth in Rachnera’s face before she smoothed it away again.
She was glad too.
Their last stop was the stage.
It sat at the heart of one of the ship’s grand lounge spaces, all velvet curtains, brass trim, warm spotlights, and a polished platform facing rows of intimate tables. Even empty, it felt alive, as if the room remembered the shape of music.
Sadae stepped onto it with easy familiarity.
“This,” she said, turning in a little half-circle, “is where I sing.”
Kirika looked around with new understanding. “Not center-stage diva style?”
Sadae smiled. “Not usually. More like atmosphere. A voice people remember later without always realizing they were listening to it.”
“That sounds oddly unfitting,” Kirika said.
“I know.”
Rachnera had climbed up onto the stage as well, though she pretended she was only examining the woodwork. “She used to sing to annoy me. Never thought she would actually perform one day.”
Sadae gasped. “That is slander. My singing clearly improved your taste.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Mmhm.”
One of the crew members waved from across the lounge. “You doing a sound check, Miss Salticy?”
“A tiny one.” Sadae tilted her head. “But mostly just showing my guests around.”
"...Well, unless you want to hear me sing." She turned back to the group, then smiled and lifted a hand to ask for quiet.
The room settled.
What followed was not a full performance. Just a few lines, warm and low and rich enough to fill the lounge without force. Her voice had that rare quality of sounding intimate even in a large space. It wrapped itself around the room rather than dominating it.
Kirika actually forgot to breathe for a second.
Cerea stared openly.
Suu gave a delayed, enthusiastic clap halfway through the last note.
Rachnera’s expression did something soft and almost unbearably fond.
Sadae finished and dipped into a little flourish of a bow. “Well?”
Kirika blinked. “Okay. Wow.”
Cerea nodded firmly. “That was magnificent.”
“Sadae sings pretty,” Suu announced.
Rachnera giggled. “Don't praise her too much. It will go to her head.”
“Too late,” Sadae laughed.
She hopped down from the stage with impossible lightness for someone her size, then leaned close enough to nudge Rachnera with one shoulder.
“Reminds me of the good old times. You know? When the two of us were at our old hiding place, and i was practicing and you were listening while you were weaving.”
"Yes." Rachnera’s usual retort came a second too late. She glanced off to the side, then back at Sadae.
“…You found a good place here.”
Sadae didn’t say anything.
Rachnera met her eyes, just for a moment.
“You get to sing. Properly. Not just to annoy people.” A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “It suits you.”
That was as close to soft as she was going to get.
Sadae’s expression melted instantly into something warm and a little overwhelmed.
“…Thanks, Rachi.”
Rachnera looked away again, back to her usual posture. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I absolutely will.”
Kirika smiled to herself. Whatever uncertainty had been clinging to Rachnera that morning had long since worn away. In its place was something quieter and better: the comfort of slipping back into a bond that she had been waiting for far too long.
By the time Sadae guided them to the ship’s bistro, the sky beyond the windows had deepened into evening blues streaked with gold.
The dining space was cozy rather than grand, with warm pendant lights, polished wooden tables, and an atmosphere that felt inviting instead of intimidating. Staff greeted Sadae by name again, and she answered with easy familiarity before steering the group toward a table by the windows.
“Best view in the place,” she declared. “Also close enough to the kitchen that I can guilt them into bringing dessert faster.”
“Abuse of power,” Rachnera murmured.
“Refined abuse of power,” Sadae corrected.
Dinner arrived in stages: elegant seafood dishes for Kirika, rich herb-roasted vegetables and breads for Cerea, a suspicious number of small sample plates for Suu, and something lavishly complicated for Sadae that she insisted everyone try.
For a while, the meal was all laughter and interruptions.
Suu stole sauces with zero shame.
Cerea tried to keep proper table manners while holding Kirika securely and failed whenever Suu attempted to sample the centerpiece.
Rachnera made dry observations about the other diners.
Sadae told one outrageous story after another, some about the ship, some about her guests, and some very clearly chosen because she knew Rachnera would have something sharp to say back.
At one point, Sadae lifted her glass and looked around the table.
“I’m serious, you know,” she said. “I’m glad you all came. Especially you, Rachi.”
Rachnera immediately looked at the menu as if it had become fascinating. “You’ve said that already.”
“I know. I enjoyed saying it the first time, so I thought I’d indulge myself.”
Sadae’s smile turned softer, her gaze moving from Kirika to Cerea to Suu and back.
“And I’m glad you brought people who care about you.”
That landed quietly.
Kirika looked toward Rachnera.
The spider girl still did not look up right away. When she finally did, her expression was its usual cool, unreadable mask—except for the faint warmth behind it.
“Darling is amazing, albeit a bit fished at the moment. The rest is tolerable,” she said.
Cerea scoffed. “What glowing praise.”
Rachnera’s lips twitched. “Would you prefer a written commendation?”
“Suu is tolerable too?” Suu asked.
“You are basically a loud piece of gelatin,” Rachnera replied. "So yeah."
Suu beamed. “Yay!”
Kirika laughed, then looked back at Sadae. “Thanks for having us. This was really nice.”
Sadae leaned back in her chair, pleased. “Any friend of Rachi’s is welcome here. Besides, it’s been too long since I got to embarrass her in person.”
Rachnera arched a brow. “You’ve overachieved. I’m almost impressed.”
“Almost?”
“Don’t fish for compliments. You’ll capsize the ship.”
For a little while after that, conversation drifted into easier things. Dessert arrived. Sadae was right about getting it faster. Outside, lights from the harbor shimmered across the water.
Kirika sat there listening to the voices around her and thinking that this was exactly why the trip had mattered.
Not because the ship was fancy.
Nor because Sadae was glamorous, or successful, or larger than life.
But because she knew a version of Rachnera that the rest of them had only glimpsed in fragments. Younger. Sharper around the edges. A little lonelier, maybe. And there had been no awkwardness in the reunion after all. Just old affection sliding right back into place.
As the meal wound down, Sadae reached across the table and squeezed Rachnera’s hand once.
No teasing. No showmanship.
Just once.
“You won’t wait years before coming again, right?”
Rachnera sighed as though the question were a terrible burden. “I’ll consider sparing you that long.”
Sadae smiled knowingly. “That means yes.”
“It means maybe. You’ve always been tragically bad at nuance. And also constantly on the move.”
“It means yes.”
Kirika watched the exchange and smiled.
Cerea adjusted her hold around Kirika a little as the mermaid’s tail shifted in her lap. Suu was trying to lick syrup from a tiny dessert spoon. The lights of the harbor blinked beyond the glass.
Rachnera looked calmer than she had all day.
And for all her teasing, Kirika understood now why she had wanted company.
Sometimes it was easier to step back into an old bond when you did not have to do it alone.
When they finally rose to leave, Sadae hugged Rachnera one more time, then Kirika, then, before Cerea could object, her too.
The centaur nearly locked up on the spot.
“Suu gets hug?” Suu asked hopefully.
“Suu absolutely gets a hug.”
The slime made a delighted noise.
As they headed back toward the gangway, Kirika glanced at Rachnera. “So,” she said lightly, “still think coming was a bad idea?”
Rachnera snorted. “Don’t push your luck, darling.”
Then, after half a step more, she added, quieter:
“...No. It wasn’t.”
Kirika smiled and let that be enough.
Behind them, from somewhere up on the deck above, Sadae’s voice rang out one last time across the evening air.
“Come back soon, Rachiiiiii!”
Rachnera returned instantly. “Maybe next time I'll try a full course massage from you.”
“Can I come too?” Kirika asked.
“Probably? I mean, she is unlikely to eat you up when I am around.”
Cerea lifted Kirika more securely and started down the dock. Suu bounced along beside them. Rachnera followed with the long-suffering dignity of someone who had been loved too openly and survived.
And somehow, in the fading harbor light, the whole little group felt warmer for it.
And then this glorious end was suddenly intreputed by:
"WAAAAAAIIIIIIT! Rachiiiii!!!"
Everyone looked back, only for Sadae to land in front of them, having jumped from who knows where to only to land silently.
"There is something I still want to do for you! Do you mind if I follow you for tonight?"
to be continued...