Bayushi Senshuken's epilogue - Racing ahead
Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2025 1:47 am
Senshuken types.
She keeps typing.
Senshuken sends the last letter with a decisive click, as if sealing a treaty with destiny itself. The candles are low, her composure lower and dignity has politely excused itself for the evening. She crosses the room in a state best described as “strategically underdressed,” slips back into Yasuki Ayame’s bed like a woman returning to a scene she fully intends to steal and reclaims her place with theatrical ease.
She tilts her head with a smile sharp and lazy all at once. “Now then,” Senshu murmurs, playful as a cat batting at a flame, “where were we?” A pause. A glance. “Ah, yes. You were about to arrest me for being dangerously hot.” She leans in just a fraction. “Tragic, really. A blatant violation of the anti-fire laws. I trust you are going to be very thorough about it.”
Send.Mother,
I am pleased to report that business is going superbly. Truly. Alarmingly so. The numbers behave, the partners listen and people now nod gravely when I speak, as if I am not the person who still occasionally eats dinner standing over a sink.
Naturally, this success comes at a cost. I am required to attend an unreasonable number of meetings. Many of them have meetings inside them. And then, once a month, the board meeting. Kami. An endurance trial disguised as a table.
Still, I persevere. Such is the duty of a very young, exceptionally successful businesswoman. I suffer gracefully. With notes. And charts.
You will be glad to know that I will be coming home soon, the testing facilities there need my supervision. It won't be permanent, of course. One cannot simply abandon a thriving enterprise and the carefully cultivated illusion that it runs without me.
Such is the fate of... No. I will not lie to you. I may have started building a life here in Nakahama. Nothing dramatic. Nothing sentimental. Just… routines. Familiar faces. A favorite place for tea. A favorite futon. People who expect me to be present and look disappointed if I am not. Entirely practical things. Sensible, even.
I assure you I remain unattached, unrooted and fully capable of leaving at a moment’s notice. (If given sufficient warning.)
I look forward to seeing you soon. Please do not rearrange my old room again. I am still using it. Emotionally.
Your dutiful, occupied and mildly unsettled daughter,
Bayushi Senshuken
P.S. If you hear rumors that I am “happy" and "in love" even, they are exaggerations. I am merely… functioning well.
She keeps typing.
Send.Kisha chan,
I have decided to stop pretending I am “casually thinking about writing to you,” as this deception has fooled no one, least of all me. So. Here I am.
I hope you are well, thriving and being appropriately admired wherever you currently are. Nakahama continues to spin at the same pace. It is quiet, yet ambitious and insists on functioning without regard for my emotional convenience. Rude city.
If you find yourself here again, I would very much like to see you. And if you do not, that is also acceptable. We could meet elsewhere. The World of Dreams, perhaps. Or any location you prefer. Name it and I will rearrange reality with a respectable amount of dignity.
I believe we left things… unresolved. Or possibly we resolved them entirely and then panicked. The distinction feels academic at this point. What matters is that I still think about that last conversation and notice the absence of a proper ending, like a sentence that simply stops. Perhaps we could try again. Like mature, responsible adults who have learned valuable lessons. With clothes on this time. This is not a requirement, merely a suggestion in favor of improved decision making.
No expectations. No pressure. Just an honest admission that I would like to see you again and that pretending otherwise has become exhausting. Write when you feel like it. I will be here, conducting business, attending too many meetings and pretending this email did not take three drafts and a long walk to finish.
Yours,
Senshu
P.S. If you choose to meet me, I promise to behave. Mostly.
Senshuken sends the last letter with a decisive click, as if sealing a treaty with destiny itself. The candles are low, her composure lower and dignity has politely excused itself for the evening. She crosses the room in a state best described as “strategically underdressed,” slips back into Yasuki Ayame’s bed like a woman returning to a scene she fully intends to steal and reclaims her place with theatrical ease.
She tilts her head with a smile sharp and lazy all at once. “Now then,” Senshu murmurs, playful as a cat batting at a flame, “where were we?” A pause. A glance. “Ah, yes. You were about to arrest me for being dangerously hot.” She leans in just a fraction. “Tragic, really. A blatant violation of the anti-fire laws. I trust you are going to be very thorough about it.”