Nine Summers of Divine Punishment

The crowd bustled around, and the guards worked to calm the onlookers and put out the fire. Despite the noise, for Miki, it was as if the world had fallen silent. She could hear only the thudding of her own heartbeat.

Her throat had finally regained the ability to speak, but after hearing Wakako’s single word, “yes,” she found herself unable to ask further questions. She simply waited for Wakako to continue, her heart caught in a mixture of hope and fear.

Though the black veil covered half her eyes, she could clearly see the flames dancing vividly in her own reflected gaze.

Wakako thought she had never looked more beautiful.

“Master hasn’t returned yet…” Lin Lin wiped her tears, composing herself and interrupting the moment awkwardly, “What about the leaves? Should we retreat? Or should we go support Master?”

Muna sighed: “We couldn’t leave even if we wanted to, look…” she gestured for Lin Lin to look behind them, “With so many people surrounding us, it’ll take quite a while for the crowd to disperse.”

Lin Lin turned back to Wakako, her mouth running on as she babbled, “Senior Sister, what exactly happened in there…”

Wakako simply covered her mouth and casually tossed her into the crowd: “Go play somewhere else.”

Lin Lin blinked, touching the soot smeared on her cheek, thoroughly confused: Huh?

Though Muna wasn’t sure what was happening, she wisely stepped back a few paces, giving them space.

Wakako turned back, her gaze fixed on Miki’s eyes. She rarely saw such vulnerability, or perhaps fear, in the Saint’s eyes.

Miki was afraid of what she was about to say.

Wakako wanted to reach for her shoulder but remembered her palms were still dirty, instinctively wiping them on her clothes. But after being in the burning building so long, her clothes weren’t much cleaner, and the attempt only made her hands dirtier.

Before she could pull her hands back, Miki had taken her by the wrist.

Now, the soot had transferred to Miki’s hands as well.

Wakako took a shallow breath and asked, her voice neutral: “Did you really meet my parents?”

Truthfully, even if Miki lied, Wakako wouldn’t be able to tell. Noble etiquette demanded perfect control over one’s expressions, and even if the Saint felt guilty, she could hide it completely.

But Miki told the truth: “Yes.”

“What are they like?”

“They’re ordinary butchers, living in a small town.”

“When did you find them? Why didn’t you take me to see them?” Wakako asked slowly, “I always thought my parents abandoned me, that’s why I ended up begging on the streets… so that wasn’t it?”

It turned out that those bloody childhood dreams weren’t nightmares—they were memories from watching her parents slaughter animals.

So she wasn’t abandoned. So she wasn’t unloved.
So she had a family all along.

“Don’t cry,” Wakako said gently, reaching out to wipe a tear from the corner of Miki’s eye with her soot-stained veil, “What’s there to cry about? Isn’t this good news?”

She heard Miki say: “I was sixteen when I found them. I… I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I was afraid. Later, I thought if we could escape together, I’d take you to meet them. But we…”

The black veil had become soaked, impossible to dry no matter how much they wiped.

“I secretly gave them money, enough to live comfortably in the small town without worrying about food or clothes. But I couldn’t bring myself to take you there.”

“I don’t have parents… Waka.”

The day each Saint is born is also the day her parents die. The blessed couple who bears a Saint must nourish her skin with their blood, sacrificing their lives for her.

Miki had never known her own parents.

Her voice was very hoarse: “I was afraid you’d go back with them, leave the Saionji clan, live with them in that small town… you’re their family. What would I do?”

“I’m sorry…”

Wakako suddenly asked: “My younger sister… what’s her name?”

After a long pause, Miki said: “They never gave her a formal name. She only has a childhood nickname, Xiao Duo.”

An older sister named Little Flower, a younger sister named Little Flower Bud.

They weren’t names with grand meanings or deep stories, just simple names born from Wakako’s childhood love of picking flowers.

Wakako thought about her sister’s age – she should be thirteen now, even younger than Lin Lin. What kind of girl was she? Was she as strong as her older sister? As poor at studying?

Could a twenty-three-year-old Wakako get along with a thirteen-year-old sister?

Miki’s gaze was intense, her expression full of hesitation. “Do you… blame me?”

“Blame you for what?”

“I…”

For being a selfish master, for keeping such a huge secret.

But Wakako simply shook her head with a small smile. “I understand. It’s alright.”

“What I wanted to tell you earlier… it has nothing to do with any of this, Miki.”

“I wanted to ask you…”

…

“Just think about it… is Miki really who you think she is?”

Saburo’s recent words still echoed in her ears, like an enchanted boat trying to carry her to another shore.

Wakako had stood by the window for a long time, not moving until a spark finally caught her hair aflame. Then she spoke aloud, almost to herself. “Perhaps not.”

“Miki… is actually quite selfish. She guards what’s hers closely and never allows anyone else to touch it.”

“All those noble etiquettes the Saionji clan taught her, I don’t think she ever truly took them to heart.”

“Miki is the Saint, but she never really acted like one… She didn’t possess that noble character, that boundless compassion expected of a Saint.”

“She’s very stubborn.”

The fire began to consume Saburo as well, yet he didn’t move, protected by divine blessing from death itself. He merely smiled as the flames encroached, “You finally understand. That’s good…”

“So, what will you choose?” he smiled, faintly sensing his blood gaining dominance within Wakako, “Do you want to confront her directly?”

Wakako’s voice drifted on the wind, hollow yet resolute, “No need. I know she’s capable of everything you described.”

Saburo’s eyebrows rose higher: “Oh? You don’t even want to talk to her about it?”

“That’s right.”

Wakako turned to face him.

Only then did Saburo see her expression—somewhere between peace and acceptance, rather than the anger he’d expected after learning the truth.

“There’s no need for words or questions, because I’ve known she’s like this…” she said, “I knew it back since our time at the Saionji estate.”

Every single time, Miki would climb into her bed, cling to her, forbidding her to look at anyone else, crying, telling her to be obedient, to listen, that she would have only one master in her life, and it could only be the Saint.

Wakako had promised her many times, and she had long seen past that fragile mask hiding darkness no white robe could conceal.

Saburo’s expression changed abruptly: “Are you saying… even knowing all of this, you still choose to stand by Miki?”

How could this be?

Anyone else, upon learning they had been deceived for so long, would feel some doubt, some hesitation. Yet here she was… it defied reason!

How was this possible? Had he not given her enough of his blood? Was the influence not strong enough?

Wakako nodded with a smile, her tone carrying a hint of affection he couldn’t understand: “Yes… Young Master Saburo, you might not understand the bond we share.”

“Without Miki, I would never have found my family.”

“It doesn’t matter if she kept it from me. I might feel a little sad about it, but it’s nothing compared to what’s between us.”

“I’ve made many mistakes too, but Miki has never blamed me. Not even  once.”

Without further words, she simply stepped out of the window. Her body dropped toward the ground, but she instinctively grabbed the building’s edge, her soot-blackened hands steadying her descent.

Wakako lay once more before Miki.

…

“What I wanted to tell you was…”

“All my life, I’ve been running away because I was too afraid. Afraid of seeing you leave, even more afraid of seeing you change because of me.”

“But I recently realized that a person can’t live in the past forever. I’m not Little Flower, and I’m not thirteen. I’m Wakako, and I’m twenty-three.”

“I used to hate studying, but now I can read and write, I used to only use heavy weapons, but now I carry twin butterfly knives wherever I go.”

“I’ve changed so much I barely recognize myself. But there’s one thing that’s remained constant… I still love you, more than anyone in the world.”

“Whether you’re sixteen or twenty-two, it makes no difference to me.”

“As long as it’s you, Miki, I’ll always love you.”

“It doesn’t matter about my parents. I know you only kept it from me because I mean so much to you.”

“I will never blame you.”

“I’ve made my decision. I won’t run away anymore, and I won’t fear divine punishment. As long as you’re alive, I’ll stand with you, and if you’re gone, I’ll die with you.”

“I just hope… telling you all this now isn’t too late.”

“I’m sorry, Miki, I’m really stupid. It took me ages to break free of my inner demons and finally realize this. Please don’t hold it against me?”

Wakako looked at the person before her who couldn’t speak a word, tears almost falling from her eyes, yet she managed a gentle smile.

“Xiao Duo can’t go by that name forever. You’ve read so many books. Would you give her a proper name?”