Rin was still trying to coax the garden roses into "looking less suffocated" when the shrill voice of the head maid startled her.
"Miss Rin! There is a visitor—"
Before the poor woman could finish, a whirlwind burst past her and tackled Rin into the dirt.
"Riiiin!"
Rin yelped as she toppled backwards, soil smearing across her sleeves. She blinked up into the grinning face of Mai—her best friend since school, hair now dyed a soft chestnut and curled into perfect waves, perfume strong enough to make the roses jealous.
"Mai?" Rin gasped, still pinned. "What are you doing—get off! You're crushing the cucumbers!"
Mai pulled back only to stare at Rin, wide-eyed. "What are you wearing? And why do you smell like fertilizer? And—wait—are you gardening?!"
Rin brushed dirt off her cheek, glaring. "Yes. And I was doing just fine until someone flattened me."
Mai clasped her hands dramatically. "My best friend, heir to the Nishina fortune, reduced to… a peasant!"
"Don't be ridiculous," Rin muttered, standing and brushing herself off. "I'm more like… a very stylish farmer."
Mai burst into laughter, clapping her hands like a child. "Oh, this is rich. I vanish for months thinking you're lost forever, and when you come back, instead of sipping champagne in silk, you're here—talking to cucumbers!"
Rin crossed her arms, trying not to smile. "They're better listeners than most people."
Minutes later, Rin dragged Mai into her room. It had been dusted and polished daily in her absence, but to Rin, the silk sheets and porcelain dolls looked alien, like artifacts from another life.
Mai flopped onto the bed dramatically. "So, tell me everything. Start from the top. Were there pirates? Treasure? Did you train wild monkeys as servants?"
Rin snorted. "No pirates. No monkeys. Just… coconuts. And fish. And mosquitoes the size of your ego."
"Rude." Mai propped herself on her elbows. "But I forgive you. Because clearly, something else happened." Her eyes sparkled. "Don't tell me you spent months alone. There was someone, wasn't there?"
Rin froze.
Mai's grin widened like a cat smelling cream. "Ah-ha! There was someone! Was he rugged? Handsome? Did you—oh my god—you totally did."
Rin threw a pillow at her. "We did not!"
Mai squealed with laughter, dodging. "Then why are you blushing like a schoolgirl?!"
Rin turned away, muttering, "He was… infuriating. And arrogant. And impossible. And…" She trailed off, heat creeping up her neck.
"And?" Mai leaned forward eagerly.
"And I don't want to talk about it."
For once, Mai's teasing softened. She sat beside Rin, nudging her shoulder gently.
"You know," Mai said, her voice quieter now, "I was terrified I'd lost you forever. That I'd never get to hear your sarcasm again, never argue about whose turn it was to pay for dinner. And now you're here, Rin… but you're different. Stronger. Braver."
Rin stared at her hands, roughened with faint scars, and swallowed hard.
"I don't know how to fit in here anymore," Rin admitted softly. "Everything feels wrong. My father looks at me like I'm broken. My mother… she tries, but… I can't go back to being who I was."
Mai smiled knowingly. "Good. Because I hated that Rin."
Rin's head snapped up. "What?!"
"I hated watching you pretend to be porcelain. Fragile. Perfect. Now? You're messy. You burn rice. You garden like a grandma. And you're finally alive."
Rin blinked rapidly, her throat tight. "Mai…"
Her best friend smirked, poking Rin's cheek. "And you're in love, you idiot."
Rin's face flamed. "I am not!"
"You so are." Mai grinned triumphantly. "And don't bother denying it. I've seen you blush at tofu before, Rin, but never like this."
Rin groaned, burying her face in a pillow. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," Mai said brightly, "but I'm also right. And I'm going to make sure you confess, whether you like it or not."
Rin lifted her face from the pillow, glaring at her best friend. "I am not confessing. End of discussion."
Mai crossed her arms. "Oh really? Then tell me, what's your plan? Sit around, tend to cucumbers, and hope this mysterious island man just… teleports into your garden?"
Rin opened her mouth, then closed it. "That's not… entirely unrealistic."
Mai smirked. "Rin. Sweetheart. You're hopeless."
Rin groaned. "You don't understand. It's not that simple. We're from two different worlds. He belongs… somewhere else."
"And yet," Mai sang, "he kept you alive for months. Shared his food. Shared his fire. Probably shared his blanket too, huh?"
Rin choked. "Mai!"
Her best friend doubled over laughing. "Oh my god, the look on your face. Priceless.
An hour later, Mai had dragged Rin onto the veranda, claiming it was time for "Confession Boot Camp."
"Step one," Mai declared, pointing dramatically. "Confidence. Shoulders back. Chin up. Imagine you're about to slay a dragon."
"I survived storms," Rin muttered. "I don't need posture lessons."
"Storms don't judge you. Men do. Now—say it. 'I like you.' Go."
Rin inhaled. Her mouth opened.
"I… like tofu."
Mai slapped her forehead. "No! Him. The man! Not soy products!"
Rin flushed scarlet. "You said say it, so I said it!"
"Again."
"I… like… fish."
"Rin!"
Mai stomped her foot like an angry teacher. "You're impossible. Okay, let's try it differently. Pretend I'm him." She straightened her shoulders, deepened her voice. "Rin. It's me. Mysterious, rugged island man. Tell me how you feel."
Rin groaned. "This is ridiculous."
"Do it or I'll tell your father you've been talking to cucumbers again."
Rin winced. Fine. She turned toward Mai—who was smirking way too much for a stand-in Hayate—and tried.
"Hayate, I… I… think you're insufferable."
Mai snorted. "Great start."
"And stubborn."
"Romantic."
"And frustrating."
"Keep going."
"And…" Rin's voice softened, almost despite herself. "…and I miss you."
Mai's grin faltered. Just for a moment. "See? That wasn't so hard."
Rin's cheeks burned. "That wasn't a confession."
"It was the beginning of one," Mai said gently. Then her smirk returned. "Now let's try again, and this time, leave out the tofu."
By the time Mai left, Rin was exhausted—not from gardening, not from reporters, but from the endless drills of saying things she wasn't ready to say.
Still, as she collapsed into bed, her lips formed words she hadn't managed aloud.
"Hayate… I miss you."
The ceiling didn't laugh at her. The silence didn't scold her. For once, the words felt real.
And Rin thought, maybe, just maybe, Mai was right.