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5. A Perfect Knight, or: An Escort on the Back Foot
The upper levels of Subaru Station. Members only. The Alnilam View — a high-end observation restaurant sealed off from general access, with the full spread of space glittering through floor-to-ceiling glass as the backdrop.
Shutia stood within this backdrop, face composed with sculptural precision, sweating internally at a considerable rate.
"...Shutia. That look. It's truly, truly wonderful...! Like a real knight from one of those old illustrated story files — the kind who protects the princess. The deep navy against your golden hair is extraordinary...!"
Across the table, Lumie Alnilam — cheeks rose-colored, voice bright — was not sparing any words. The formal suit Ledea had assembled was doing what it was designed to do. Shutia, visually, was the most convincing escort in the galaxy.
"Thank you, Lumie. I'm only an odd-job operator — calling me a knight is rather—"
"Absolutely not! I am completely confident that today I am receiving the most extravagant escort in the entire world."
Lumie's smile was warm, precise, belonging entirely to someone who had been raised knowing exactly how to be charming in formal settings. Shutia was accustomed to being the one who charmed people without knowing she was doing it. Being on the receiving end of this — direct, genuine, and entirely uncomplicated in its intent — had pushed her completely onto the defensive, and she had not found a way back.
"Now then, Shutia. We have our 'consultation' today, but first — please try some of this Alnilam Heavy Industries special dessert. Here."
"Ah — thank you..."
(Sis. Please help. This is too pure and bright and I don't know what to do with it.)
The perfect smile held. Below it, something was shaking.
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6. Long-Distance Surveillance, or: Outside Observers in Distress
Meanwhile, in a corner of the mall some distance from the restaurant:
Two figures were pressed behind a kiosk partition, holding up a paper bag from a burger outlet and a holographic menu in what could charitably be described as concealment. Ledea and Katrine.
The modest sisterly concern about whether Shutia was managing, plus the irresistible pull of curiosity, plus the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a completely unmonitored afternoon — these factors had combined to produce the current situation.
"Ledea! What is happening over there?!"
Katrine's ringlets vibrated with suppressed urgency, her voice reduced to a fierce whisper.
"Did you see Lumie's face?! And meanwhile that oblivious creature is just sitting there smiling awkwardly! That absolute blockhead!"
"Katrine, your voice. ...The issue is that Shutia interprets genuine romantic interest as ordinary affection, and then proceeds to be a flawless escort on that misunderstanding. Her insensitivity to romantic cues is professionally remarkable."
Ledea delivered this analysis while watching her sister retrieve a dropped napkin from the floor with a smoothness of motion that no ordinary person possessed and return it to Lumie without breaking the conversation. Lumie's color deepened further. She looked delighted.
"Ugh — I know! But watching it is unbearable! Shutia, say something appropriate! Something that would actually make a girl happy!"
Katrine was complaining while simultaneously leaning forward with complete attention, fully absorbed in the unfolding scene — which was, in fairness, also exactly what Ledea was doing.
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7. An Incident on Ice, and a Pair of Eyes
The second half of the date had moved to the low-gravity hologram ice rink adjacent to the restaurant.
Glittering light shifted across the ice. Shutia had Lumie's hand and was moving across the surface with the balance of someone for whom this required no thought whatsoever.
"Hehe... this is so lovely, Shutia...!"
"I'm glad. Watch your footing — it gets slippery toward the edge—"
A child on the ice nearby lost their balance. The trajectory was direct and fast and aimed straight at Lumie, and there was no time for a normal person to do anything about it.
"Oh—!"
Shutia's body had already moved.
She pulled Lumie in close — one hand at her waist, firm and immediate — pivoted on the ice with her full height to use the low gravity, caught the incoming child with her free hand and brought them down to the ice surface without contact damage, and came to a complete stop in a position that bore a considerable resemblance to the ending pose of a figure skating pairs routine.
"...Are you all right, Lumie? Any injuries?"
She looked down with the expression she wore when she was being genuinely kind to someone — the full version, unhurried and warm.
It was a perfect hero moment, executed without any awareness that it was a hero moment.
"...Yes...! Thank you, Shutia...!"
Lumie's face was bright red. She looked thrilled.
"—oh."
The next instant, Shutia's eyes — sharpened by the particular acuity of someone who had once made a professional living out of noticing things — found two faces at the edge of the rink. One silver-haired. One gold-ringletted.
The faces registered that they had been seen.
Two short sounds, something between a gasp and a squeak, came from the direction of the rink's shadow. Then Ledea and Katrine were gone.
---
At the airlock, at the end of the evening.
Lumie looked back at Shutia with an expression that was trying to be composed and mostly succeeding, warm and full of something that had clearly had a very satisfying day.
"Thank you so much, Shutia. Today was wonderful. The suit was extraordinary, but..."
The mischief that crossed her face was entirely deliberate.
"Next time, I'd very much like to see Shutia in a lovely dress. Or something beautiful and formal. Hehe. Good night."
"Oh — a dress — wait, a dress?!"
The knight watched the departing heiress with an expression that had completely frozen in place, and stayed that way for some time after she was gone.
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8. The Knight Returns, or: A Sister's Miscalculation
Clunk. Hiss.
The Silver Anchor's airlock opened. Shutia was home.
Ledea was on the sofa with a cup of tea, having arranged herself into a posture suggesting she had been there the entire time and had absolutely not been anywhere else.
"Welcome back, Shutia. How did the Alnilam escort go—"
"Sis."
The voice was low. Floor-level.
Shutia was removing her formal jacket as she walked, and the expression on her face was something Ledea rarely saw: genuine, undisguised, unhurried irritation. She crossed the room and stopped directly in front of the sofa.
"...What is it."
"You followed me. With the gold-paint woman."
"—"
Ledea's shoulder moved. Just slightly.
The sister who should have come through the door in full desperate-embrace mode was looking down at her with an expression that was not that at all.
"I don't know what you mean. Katrine and I were comparing simulator scores—"
"Sis. You gave me orders to go alone. And then you went to watch me struggling to keep up with an heiress, and you thought it was funny. And when you came back, there was a faint trace of Katrine's perfume on your clothes. You went on a date with her while I was gone. That's cheating."
"It is not cheating — please don't say things like that—"
Ledea's shoulder moved again, and her gaze shifted, and she had the specific look of someone who has been caught completely and is reviewing their options.
She exhaled. Resigned herself. And, going slightly red, offered the following in a voice several degrees smaller than her usual one:
"...I was concerned. As your older sister, I wanted to know whether you were managing. And I brought Katrine because I thought if I went alone I might be physically removed from the premises before I saw anything. ...It was a matter of sisterly responsibility."
"Oh. Sisterly responsibility. Is that what that was."
Shutia's eyes acquired a particular quality.
"Then — since sis went and did something that cute and that treacherous — it's my responsibility as a younger sister to headpat and nuzzle and thoroughly fuss over sis until further notice. Right?"
"What are you — no — wait—"
Before the sentence finished, Shutia had Ledea off the sofa and settled into her lap with the efficiency of someone who had practiced this motion, and was pressing her face into silver hair with the energy of a large animal that had been deprived of something it wanted for several hours.
"Stop that — where are you putting your hands — stop the nuzzling—! That tickles — hya ha ha — let go—!"
"I won't! Sis was mean! Today I am fulfilling my sisterly responsibilities until morning, in full, with everything I have!"
A fifteen-year-old older sister in full defensive retreat, turning red, squirming vigorously. A twenty-four-year-old younger sister in possession of a toy she'd been denied all day, applying herself to the situation with complete commitment.
The Silver Anchor's living area contained, in this moment, approximately twice its usual quantity of noise and at least three times its usual quantity of physical warmth.
Business as usual.