Chapter 585: The Calm Before the Storm
"So, dear customer -- is there anything that caught your eye?"
The proprietress had turned her attention back to Satsuki.
"Anything I like? That's not really the right question, is it? You can't actually wear any of these outside!"
Satsuki's hand swept through the air as she gestured at the nearest garment. The thing used so little fabric that she could pinch a single corner between two fingers and lift the entire piece off the hanger. It was so sparse she wasn't sure it even qualified as clothing -- more like a few strips of ribbon and scraps of cloth held together by a passing thought.
"Worn outside?"
The proprietress's smile turned knowing. "Of course not. That's rather the point -- these pieces were designed with a very specific purpose in mind." She tilted her head, voice dropping into something warm and conspiratorial. "You only need to wear them for your husband. Just the two of you."
She watched Satsuki's eyes -- slightly trembling, not quite knowing where to settle -- and waited. Waited for Satsuki to choose between shame and want.
"Oh..."
The sound pushed its way out of Satsuki's throat on its own. The images cycled through her mind, one after another, until her thoughts blurred together. If she stood in front of Naruto wearing something like this -- what would happen? Would he freeze? Would his face go red? Would he look at her with that particular gaze, the one that made her heart stutter, and then pull her in without saying a single word?
She already knew the answer. If Naruto saw her in something like this, he would absolutely become insufferable. He would not let go of her for the rest of the night.
"And as an added bonus," the proprietress continued pleasantly, "there's a complimentary gift with your purchase."
"A... a gift? What kind?"
"High heels."
Satsuki blinked and turned. The confusion on her face displaced the nervousness. "High heels? The outfits are already this... minimal. Adding shoes on top of all that seems a bit beside the point."
"Heh." The proprietress pressed a hand over her mouth to contain her amusement. "You really are wonderfully innocent, aren't you, dear. Once your husband gives you his answer tonight, I think you'll understand."
Every piece in this room had been made by the proprietress's own hands. She had drafted every pattern line by line and sewn every stitch herself. The work was meticulous in ways that didn't show -- not in the fabric itself, which was intentionally minimal, but in the construction, in the specific decisions about what to include and what to leave out.
These pieces were also very particular about who wore them. Not in terms of figure -- Satsuki's figure was clearly not the issue, and in fact the proprietress had privately concluded that this young woman was the most naturally suited customer she had encountered in years -- but in terms of something harder to name. A kind of qualification. A certain type of person.
Only that specific variety of foolish couple: deeply in love, no walls between them, genuinely willing to do something a little outrageous for the other person's sake. Those were the right buyers.
The proprietress had tried the conventional route once. She had hung the pieces in the most prominent spot in the shop, dressed her best mannequins for the window display, and waited. The results were instructive. Not only did it damage her regular business, but customers who came in looking for kimonos and day dresses took one look through the doorway and walked straight back out. One woman had called her shameless to her face.
So. The pieces weren't illegal. They simply required a different approach. Now they lived in this back room, in the furthest corner of the shop, waiting quietly for the right people to find their way in on their own -- the foolish ones, the ones in love, the ones who didn't particularly mind a little embarrassment if it meant doing something for the person they cared about.
"...It's too shameless." Satsuki's fingers had found the hem of the nearest piece without her entirely meaning to. "Even if Naruto would really like it... he won't think I'm -- he won't think badly of me for it, will he?"
"Is that what's worrying you?" The proprietress tilted her head. "Then please forgive me for asking something a little personal."
"After your first time with your husband -- what was his reaction? Toward you, afterward?"
"What--!"
The proprietress continued as though Satsuki hadn't made a sound. "In my experience, when a man and a woman become husband and wife in that way, one of two things happens. Either the man becomes completely devoted to that woman. Or the man grows tired of her." She let a beat pass. Her gaze rested lightly on Satsuki's face. "You're the first kind. Aren't you."
It was an odd thing to say so plainly, and it left Satsuki flustered and at a loss. But she couldn't disagree with it. After that first night, there had been a specific quality to Naruto's attention -- a warmth, a pull, something that said I cannot do without you. The kind of closeness that made her feel, without any doubt, that he genuinely loved her.
"When a husband's love for you is that deep," the proprietress said, "and you purchase something like this for him, his reaction -- past whatever else might occur -- will simply be that he's moved."
She held Satsuki's gaze steadily. Those unusual eyes were carrying a faint shimmer now that hadn't been there before.
"Because this is a privilege. A sacrifice opened up willingly, by a wife who loves him."
The words wrapped around Satsuki's already spinning thoughts and kept circling. She couldn't find her footing in any direction. But there was one thing she could hold onto -- the proprietress was right. If the person seeing you truly loved you, then these things weren't shameless. They weren't wanton. They were exactly what the proprietress had said: a privilege. Something a woman chooses to do for the man she loves. A secret that lived only between the two of them, that didn't require anyone else's understanding, that belonged to no one but them.
"So then." The proprietress let the question hang for just a moment. "What will your decision be?"
Her gaze dropped to Satsuki's hands. To the fingers now moving -- slowly but deliberately -- toward the ninja pouch at her side.
Satsuki reached in with a hand that was not entirely steady. She drew out a folded stack of this world's currency, exchanged from gold ahead of time to avoid any issue with dates.
It came to roughly several hundred thousand ryo by the look of it.
"...Just...pack whatever seems right."
"Of course! Thank you so much for your patronage!"
Outside the shop, Naruto's eyes landed on the collection of bags now in Satsuki's arms -- various sizes, stacked together into something roughly the volume of a wardrobe, all of them visibly full. He reached out to take them from her and was already asking the question before his hands made contact.
"You really bought that much? What are they? Let me see."
Behind them, the proprietress stood in the doorway with the corner of her mouth raised. She had always known it was right not to give up on this approach. These pieces rarely sold -- sometimes a whole month passed without a single transaction. But when the right customer arrived, it more than compensated for the quiet stretches.
She also quietly noted, for her own private satisfaction, that this customer was truly something. Embarrassed nearly to collapse, clearly fighting herself at every step -- and yet, because of that love for her husband, she had set the shame aside anyway. And after being guided through a selection, Satsuki had then gone on to choose additional pieces entirely on her own. Not the way someone grabs whatever is nearest to fill a quota. The deliberate kind. Checking the fabric, comparing the cut, considering each one with visible care before setting it in the pile.
Meanwhile, Naruto's hands were already moving toward the nearest bag.
"Wait--!" Satsuki's voice jumped an entire register. She shifted sideways in a blur, pulling the bags out of reach. "Not right now -- you can't see them yet--"
She was swaying slightly. Like a sapling in a strong wind, barely keeping its footing.
Which was, from Naruto's perspective, entirely counterproductive on her part. Her flustered expression, her pink face, her stammering -- all of it only made the contents of those bags feel more significant, not less. His imagination was doing things he could not currently control.
He didn't push. He made a deliberate choice to let it go, drew his hand back, and began pulling a storage scroll from his pouch instead. He'd seal everything away now and look later, once they had somewhere private to be.
He spread the scroll on the ground and was just reaching for the first bag when the proprietress spoke up from behind them.
She had a reason beyond revenue for what she was about to do, though revenue was certainly not absent from her thinking. She had seen something underneath Satsuki's embarrassment, beneath all that nervous energy. A second layer. Anticipation. Satsuki was already imagining Naruto's face when he finally saw what was in those bags. She was already looking forward to his expression, to the light that would appear in his eyes, to the moment that would follow. She just needed the right conditions. Specifically, the two of them, alone.
"Oh -- have you two decided where you're staying tonight?"
Naruto looked up. "Not yet, actually."
"Then this works out perfectly." The proprietress reached beneath the counter and placed a card on the surface, presenting it forward with both hands. "Please accept this -- a small token of our gratitude for your visit today."
Naruto took it and turned it over. Thick, cream-colored card stock. Gold edging along the border. A few lines of text on the back indicating something along the lines of best available rates with card presentation.
"What is this?"
"A guest card. Present it at our partner establishment and you'll receive the best possible rate -- dinner and breakfast included as well. If you'd like somewhere to spend the rest of your honeymoon, it would be a lovely option."
Naruto asked the natural follow-up, the easy conversational reflex of someone who figures he might as well: "That's very generous, thank you. What kind of inn is it?"
"A hot spring inn."