The fabric was lighter than I expected.
Soft, but structured. Clearly something custom-made and tailored with absurd attention to detail. Probably by Levy. Possibly by Revy under duress.
I held it up in front of the mirror, glancing at Rei's reflection behind me.
She was watching like a hawk pretending not to be interested.
"You're hovering," I said.
"I'm observing," she replied.
"Same thing."
She smirked. "Not when it's me doing it."
I slipped behind the screen and began changing, careful not to tangle myself in the overly elaborate inner wraps. A low sigh escaped me as I tried to figure out which part was supposed to loop through which.
"I swear if this thing is cursed—"
"It's not cursed."
"Feels cursed."
A beat.
Then her voice came, softer. "You'll look good."
I didn't answer.
Because maybe… I wanted to.
When I finally stepped out from behind the screen, Rei looked up—and stilled.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't say anything right away.
I shifted awkwardly, tugging at the cuffs. "Well?"
She blinked once.
Then again.
"…It suits you," she said, voice lower than usual. "More than I thought it would."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're not just saying that because you want me to match your uniform, right?"
"Maybe a little," she admitted, but there was something honest under it.
I tugged slightly at the front of the uniform, frowning. "It's kinda tight in the chest."
Rei froze.
Her expression snapped into something sharp—defensive, flustered.
"It's not—okay, maybe it is, but that's not my fault. Levy's the one who took the measurements. Blame her!"
I tilted my head. "Why are you getting so worked up?"
"I'm not—!" she snapped, then bit it off halfway. "It's just… You're not used to it, that's all."
I crossed my arms, smirking. "That sounded very defensive, Miss Reilan Gintama."
Rei turned toward the window, face flushed. "You'd be defensive too if someone started—ugh. Never mind."
I arched a brow. "Didn't know you had such strong opinions about fabric."
"Years of uniform wearing will do that," she muttered. Then, under her breath—so quiet I almost missed it: "…Especially when my older sister used to—"
She stopped.
Too late.
My gaze sharpened.
"Older Sister?"
Rei flinched. "Nope. Didn't say that. You imagined it. Moving on now."
I stepped forward slowly. "You have a sister?"
"No."
"You just said you did."
"Lies. Fabrications. The heat stroke's finally getting to you."
"It's the middle of fall."
"I—shut up."
I grinned, but not cruelly. "Rei. I won't push. But just so you know—you are terrible at secrets."
"I'm great at secrets," she huffed.
I leaned in, voice low. "You just told me you had an older sister in the middle of a uniform crisis."
She groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Stars above, I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"…No, I don't." Rei exhaled.
[Observation: Subject Rei Gintama exhibits signs of emotional flustering. Recommend passive de-escalation.]
"No need. This is fun."
Rei didn't reply.
She just slumped into the chair again with the air of someone betrayed by her own mouth.
I walked over, arms folded, leaning against the side of the desk like a cat circling a wounded bird. Not malicious—just curious.
"So," I said, "how many siblings do you have?"
She groaned into her palms. "Nope. Absolutely not. I'm not giving you a whole biography because I choked on a sentence."
"Come on," I nudged. "You got to see me spiral through a blood-soaked identity crisis. Fair's fair."
"That was different," she mumbled, lifting her head just enough for one eye to glare at me. "Yours had a parasite and a death blade involved. Mine's just… complicated."
I leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded. "You know you're really bad at keeping secrets around me, you know."
"That wasn't a secret," she muttered. "It was just… a part of me I don't usually share."
I tilted my head. "So the 'older sister' part?"
She winced. "That was an accident."
"And a juicy one," I said, teasing—but gently. "She someone I'd know?"
"No," Rei said quickly. Too quickly.
I narrowed my eyes.
"She… used to be important," Rei added after a moment. "Before she turned like that. Before everything got complicated."
"That's vague."
She shrugged. "Some things are easier to leave vague."
There was something in her voice. Not just distance. Not bitterness, either.
Almost like reverence.
"Do you still talk to her?" I asked.
"I do, but not in the way I wish I could." Rei said. But she didn't sound angry about it.
Just… resigned.
I didn't press. I could've—but something in her posture said she wasn't ready. Not yet.
So I let the silence settle.
I smiled faintly. "You're doing just fine."
She didn't smile back right away—but her shoulders eased, just a little.
"Thanks," she said.
A knock interrupted the quiet.
Before either of us could move, the door creaked open with its usual eerie smoothness.
Levy stepped in, elegant as ever, a scroll tucked under one arm. "Lady Tomaszewski—"
She paused mid-step.
Her eyes locked on me.
In the uniform.
Her brows rose in something between visible amusement and genuine surprise. "…Oh."
I blinked. "No."
Rei grinned slowly from across the room. "Yes."
"I didn't think you would actually wear it," Levy said, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"I didn't know what it was," I hissed.
"She thought it was travel gear," Rei added, far too pleased with herself.
Levy clasped her hands behind her back, clearly savoring the moment. "Well. I must say—it suits you."
"It does not," I muttered, pulling at the hem of the shirt. "It's—tight. And weird. And—"
"Professional," Levy supplied helpfully. "Very polished. You could pass for one of my own."
"Do not recruit me," I growled.
"No promises," Levy said, all grace and menace.
I turned to Rei. "You planned this."
"I hoped," she corrected, far too innocently.
Before I could respond, another voice came from just outside the door—cool, composed, and unmistakably hers.
"Levy. Why is your twin not in proper attire again?"
Levy sighed softly and stepped aside.
Lelyah entered with her arms folded, eyes sharp and posture sharper. She looked like she was in the middle of a dozen decisions—until her gaze fell squarely on me.
In the attendant uniform.
A beat passed.
Her expression didn't change right away.
Then her brow arched ever so slightly. "…I see."
"Don't," I warned preemptively.
Rei was already halfway into a silent laughing fit behind her hand.
Lelyah tilted her head just a bit more, gaze traveling down the crisp folds of the borrowed uniform.
"Well," she said finally. "At least I know you'll survive in a disguise if needed."
"It's not a disguise," I muttered.
"She thought it was travel gear," Rei chimed in helpfully.
Lelyah's mouth quirked—just a hint of a smirk. "I'd ask if you lost a bet, but this feels more like Rei won one."
I buried my face in my hands again.
"She's being dramatic," Rei said casually.
"She's in Rei's uniform," Levy added.
"She's very brave, especially with your chest area looking like it might pop at any second." Lelyah finished with amused finality.
Rei bristled instantly.
"Oh, come on," she snapped, ears turning pink. "It's not like I got handed the deluxe edition!"
I blinked.
"What?"
Rei flailed slightly, words rushing out. "I mean—you've got curves, the whole heir aesthetic thing! Meanwhile I'm built like a second-year recruit still waiting for her growth spurt."
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Lelyah raised a hand to stifle a laugh. "So it's jealousy."
"It's justice," Rei muttered, crossing her arms under her chest—which only emphasized her point.
"You're ridiculous," I said, failing to smother my grin.
"You're blessed," Rei shot back.
I threw my hands up. "This is why I didn't want to wear this!"
"And yet," Lelyah said smoothly, already heading for the door, "you look lovely."
Rei slumped slightly as she left, groaning into her hands.
"Oh, sure," she muttered. "Just rub it in. Like I asked to be built like an unranked attendant with a training uniform three sizes too stiff."
I laughed before I continued my rant. "You're all terrible."
"Correct," Lelyah replied smoothly. "But your hair is neat, your posture's good, and for what it's worth—" she looked me over again, eyes narrowing in brief assessment, "—you could pass for nobility slumming it."
"That's not comforting," I grumbled.
"It wasn't supposed to be."
She stepped further into the room, the teasing tone falling away just slightly. Her gaze softened—not much, but enough.
"Still," she added, glancing between me and Rei, "I'm glad she finally told you."
I blinked.
"Told me what?"
Rei stiffened beside me.
Lelyah didn't flinch. "Her truth. The part she's been carrying since she was small. I never pressed her—she's earned her own timing."
I glanced at Rei, who looked like she might spontaneously combust on the spot.
"She… you knew?" I asked slowly.
"Of course I did," Lelyah said. "I raised her."
Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "It wasn't my secret to tell. But I hoped one day she'd trust someone enough to stop treating it like one."
Rei's eyes dropped to the floor. Her hands flexed once at her sides.
I didn't say anything at first. Just reached over again and took her hand—this time without a word, without ceremony.
Lelyah didn't smile. But her eyes said everything.
"I've seen you two grow beside each other for years," she said. "I may not comment often, but I notice. And I'm proud of both of you."
Rei's fingers curled around mine—tight, steady.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward.
It was warm.
Whole.
Then Lelyah exhaled like she'd remembered she had responsibilities elsewhere. "Now, if I don't go hunt Revy down, she's going to attend a formal House meeting wearing a sleeveless cloak and earrings made of copper wiring again."
She turned to leave, pausing at the doorway.
"Oh, and Star?"
"Yes?"
"Good Luck out there."
Then she was gone.
As the door clicked shut, Rei slumped against the wall.
"I walked right into that, didn't I?"
"Like a summoned bear into a banquet," I said.
She groaned softly. "Kill me now."
Rei grumbled something under her breath as she tugged at the collar of her uniform, cheeks still faintly pink. I didn't press her.
Not yet.
Instead, I turned toward the folded gear stacked neatly by the low bench—Levy's work, no doubt. Everything was laid out with the kind of precision that made the air feel heavier: cloak, boots, scrolls, travel-bound rations, mana stabilizers.
"Cloak's been reinforced," Rei said, moving beside me with practiced ease. "Light-enchanted. Reflective layer built into the lining. The scrolls are sealed and keyed to your signature."
I nodded, slipping the travel cloak around my shoulders. The Tomaszewski crest was faint—stitched in silver thread beneath the left collar, subtle but deliberate.
She checked the pouch at my side next. "Grimoire?"
I tapped it once. "Secured."
"Charms?" she asked.
"Flare tag's tucked into the right sleeve. Mana threads confirmed."
Rei handed over a slim satchel—plain brown, no insignia. "Three days' worth of provisions. Alchemical, not culinary."
I snorted. "So, tasteless bricks?"
"Efficient bricks."
My hand hovered over the seal etched along my side. The blade wasn't there in physical form, but I could still feel it.
Waiting.
Breathing.
I fastened the final clasp on my gloves and looked toward the door.
"Travel permits are cleared," Rei said softly. "Escort routes coordinated. Revy's been pacing outside for the last ten minutes trying to look cool."
"She always looks like that," I muttered, tugging my cloak's hood back slightly.
"She's also still trying to enchant your boots without you noticing."
I blinked. "What?"
Rei shrugged. "Nothing explosive. She just wanted to give them minor impact resistance. Said you 'tend to jump into bad ideas feet-first.'"
I huffed once, but didn't argue.
Silence stretched between us. But it wasn't uncomfortable.
Just… quiet.
I adjusted my cuffs and whispered, more to myself than to her, "Everything feels heavier."
Rei looked at me. "Because it is."
And that was all she said.
I didn't ask what she meant.
Because I already knew.
Outside, the morning light pressed against the windows like a hand waiting to be acknowledged. The sky was a soft haze—still chilled with the remains of dawn.
Rei stepped toward the door.
"I'll go wrangle Revy."
"Good luck," I murmured.
She smirked faintly, then slipped out with the kind of grace only a lifetime of shadowing a noble could teach.
I stood there for another beat, breath even, weight settled low in my spine.
I didn't pray.
Didn't whisper courage.
I just turned—
—and walked out the door.
The estate's front gate loomed ahead, wreathed in the soft shimmer of travel wards and lined with sigil-bound columns. A few guards stood discreetly at attention, eyes forward but glances sharp.
Rei was already there.
And I—was not prepared.
For the first time in years, she wasn't dressed in her usual fitted tunic and boots. Instead, she wore a traveling gown—not extravagant, but dignified. The colors were muted earthen tones, laced with silver threading that glinted at the cuffs and neckline. A mana-stitched cloak hung from her shoulders, tailored and elegant.
And for a split second—
My breath hitched.
Because she looked like someone else.
The curve of her jaw. The shape of her eyes. The way the cloak fell across her shoulders like it had always belonged there.
Mom.
Not a copy. Not exactly. But close enough that I could see it in flashes—like catching a reflection in broken glass.
[Alert: Identity anomaly detected. Subject resembles… Error. Visual confirmation: Tomaszewski, Lelyah?]
"No, not her. It's Rei."
[Correction in progress. Subject Rei Gintama—appearance deviates from recorded profile.]
"You're bugging out over a dress?" I hissed. "Get it together."
[System recalibrating. Normal visuals for subject: Reilan Gintama was too close to subject: Lelyah Tomaszewski.]
I shook my head, just as Rei turned toward me, cloak shifting lightly with the breeze.
And smiled.
"Don't stare," she said. "You'll make me think I dressed wrong."
I blinked, swallowing the weight in my throat. "You didn't."
She raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You look like you saw a ghost."
"I…" I paused, then tried to shrug it off. "You just clean up better than expected."
Rei rolled her eyes. "I've worn dresses before, Chiori."
"Not around me."
She hesitated. "I didn't think it mattered."
"It doesn't," I said quickly. "I mean—it does. I mean—"
Before I could finish tripping over myself—
"Okay, what the hell is happening here?"
Asmodeus.
He rounded the courtyard path in full travel gear, coat fluttering, boots loud enough to announce himself before his voice ever did.
He saw Rei.
And froze mid-step like he'd just seen death in heels.
"Is that—? Wait. Auntie?"
Rei blinked.
I buried my face in my hands.
"No," I groaned. "Asmodeus—"
His eyes snapped between Rei and me. "No. Wait. That's not your mom. That's—Rei?!"
Rei looked like she was strongly debating turning around and walking back inside the estate forever.
"I'm going to punch you," she said flatly.
"I just—I wasn't told—why are you you but also her?" he sputtered, pointing at her like that would clarify anything.
I sighed. "Asmodeus. Breathe."
"I am breathing. Just not intelligently right now."
He blinked at Rei again. "You're a girl."
"I'm aware," Rei said, arms folded. "I've always been aware."
Asmodeus raised a hand like he was asking the universe to explain itself.
"I've—shared a sparring circle with you!"
Rei nodded. "And?"
"And you kicked my ass."
Rei's smile was thin. "And?"
"…And now I have a lot of confusing memories."
I punched his arm.
"Can we please focus?" I muttered.
Asmodeus muttered something about betrayal and needing to sit down, but didn't argue further. He did, however, shoot Rei a look that was equal parts admiration and cautious awe.
"You look like her," he said, quieter now.
Rei's posture stilled slightly. "Yeah. I know."
He blinked. "That's not a bad thing."
Another pause.
Then, with far less snark: "But next time? Warn a guy. I almost fainted and combusted at the same time."
Rei arched a brow. "Do it and I'll let you combust."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "We're leaving now."
The three of us turned toward the gate—side by side.
No fanfare.
No escort.
Just three figures walking into something no one else volunteered for.
The heir, her blade, and their untamable storm.