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4

THE SUMMER SOLSTICE

“Iam sorry to hear about your father.” It was the fifth person to approach Ronin and his sister, Yuki, and give their condolences.

Naia shifted from foot to foot on the asphalt, discomfort lining the soles of her feet. Checking out her busy surroundings along the closed strip of road, blocked off by tall, orange cones and a sign. People poured in behind them, around them, and all in front of them. Weaving around each other, filling the strip of the narrow street compacted with rows of stalls. Scents of barbecued meats and sugared fruit wafted in the air.

“Thanks, Lana.” Yuki gave the stranger a polite wave. “We’ll drop by your stand later.”

Ronin said nothing in response. He peered straight ahead, above the crowded area to the tops of the trees surrounding the festival grounds, hands resting in the pocket of his dark trousers. The baggy purple checkered top spilled over his forearms, and he maintained a relaxed expression.

Although Naia could spot the tension in his jaws from the muscles flexing under his skin.

They strolled at a slow pace into the festival. Groups of voices accumulated beneath the low strum of music. Naia’s gaze gravitated to the passersby holding snacks and large stuffed animals in their arms.

“Nana used to sell her tinctures and herbal remedies at the festival.” Akane gravitated to Naia as they walked. “Papa carried on her tradition.”

“What a fun hobby,” Naia said, avoiding expressing any other sympathies.

She couldn’t help but glance down at the little girl. Akane’s hair was pinned up, and she wore a marigold cotton robe with floral patterns. Wrapped around her small waist was a red sash. Yuki wore a similar robe, only hers was a blue color scheme.

A yukata, Yuki had told Naia when she’d complimented it before they’d left the house. It was a custom in their culture on their mother’s side to wear them during the festival.

“She’s been gone for a year, and yet we still have an entire room full of her medicinal creations,” Yuki mused with a nostalgic smile. “Dad made me promise not to carry on the tradition and set up her stall the way he did. Go enjoy the festival,” she mimicked in a baritone, deep voice. “Literally his last words to me.”

Naia gave an awkward smile, not sure how to take those being his choice of last words.

“Totally kidding.” Yuki laughed at whatever expression consumed Naia’s face. “Glad my dress fits you. I haven’t worn that thing in years.”

The light wind ruffled the floral sundress Naia had found laid out on her bed after showering. The length of the dress came right above her knees. Dresses were never her first option, but it was better than the ridiculous pajamas she’d been wearing.

“I’m going to assume you’ve never been to one of these festivals since you aren’t a local.” Yuki moved closer to Naia’s side, shoulders bumping. Naia inhaled sharply and moved away. Yuki didn’t appear to notice. “The shaved ice stands are where it’s at. Always get it with condensed milk. Steer clear of the roasted pig feast if the sight of dead animals freaks you out.”

Naia studied the woman’s appearance as she blabbered on. It resembled Ronin’s—deep-set eyes, the shade of hickory wood, cropped oil-black strands swaying against a short jawline, and a thin top lip and plump bottom lip painted dark purple.

“If you’re a fan of raw fish, I’d say try a poké bowl. Any stand will do. Oh! And if you are a sucker for games, the goldfish stall is fun, but know whatever fish you win, you have to toss into the sea for the goddess and all that.”

Like hell would Naia sacrifice anything in the name of Mira.

“Thank you,” she told Yuki.

Akane tugged her by the arm, eager to move at a quicker pace. “Mom, let’s go.”

“I know, I’m starving too.” Yuki giggled, shaking her head before bringing her attention back to Naia. “We’re going to grab some squid luau. Make Ronin take you to the ceremonial dance. It starts in about ten minutes. Though, this grumpy ass here”—Yuki nudged her brother with an elbow—“will act like a bored teenager, hating every second. Just know he’s not too miserable, he just shuns the festival. Don’t let him bring you down.”

A scoff spluttered out of Ronin.

Yuki turned her head to him, the motion like the slow, methodical turn of an owl’s head. Her sprightly aura darkened a bit, and she held her glare on him. “For fuck’s sake, Ronin, lose the attitude and go enjoy yourself for once in your life.”

The muscles in his jaws tensed again.

His eyes dropped to Akane, as if to remind himself a child was present.

“You came today because I asked, but the least you could do is pretend to have fun,” Yuki continued berating him. “And if not for that fact, then how about because I came running home when you called and said you found a stranger on the cove, and how I haven’t asked questions—yet.”

“Yuki.” Ronin’s eyes flashed up to her, their dark shade stale. “I got it.”

“Oh, look!” Akane shot off down the path to their right towards a stall with people shooting what appeared to be water guns at a target.