"A w-a-l-k?"Nesta asked with a shaky voice. He grabbed the kimono and sprang to his feet to take a look at Clara who was now standing at the doorway whose door had been slided to the side. This allowed Nesta to catch a glimpse of her face and every little detail it was hiding.
"Yeah. Let's go for a walk? It will help me show you around this place"she explained—a cute expression was evident on her impeccable face making it seem like her eyes had increased in size.
Nesta gulped forcibly when he had witnessed what she had done. His mind was on a roller coaster as he pondered about what could happen to him on this trip she was calling a walk.
It has been only two days since he got into this world, why did this woman want to walk with him, he wondered.
"Would you care to step outside so that I can change. You are giving me the creeps by standing there"he muttered out loud to her hearing while grabbing the sleeves of the cloth he was currently wearing.
"I've seen more of you than you know. Didn't you get the idea that I was the one who dressed you yesterday."
Nesta sallowed hard upon hearing what Clara had to say. He felt embarrassed by Clara's words but on the day he was brought into this world he was naked and did not get the opportunity to get dressed before the inevitable happened.
Without looking at Clara who was not hiding the fact that she was staring at him like a hawk, he quickly undressed. His skin became exposed to the ambience of the room and the difference between his skin and that of Clara's own was like night and day.
"Do you like what you see?"he asked taunting his admirer who seemed to be glued to his body. Nesta was all sharp lines and restless angles, a boy shaped more by hunger than by growth. His frame was lean to the point of fragility, as if every inch of him has been pared down by want. Shoulders narrowed beneath the silver glow of the light in the room, collarbones jutting like small wings that never learned to lift him. His arms were long and wiry, the muscles there defined not by strength training but by the constant necessity of work—lifting, carrying, scavenging—anything that kept him moving.
His skin stretched tight over his ribs, each one visible when he breathed, rising and falling like the slats of a thin wooden gate. Though his face still carried the softness of childhood, it was a bit hollowed at the cheeks, giving him a permanent look of quiet alertness, as if he's always listening for the next opportunity or the next threat. But his eyes—dark, bright, stubborn—reveal the fierce will that hunger hasn't taken from him. They held a spark that refused to dim, even when the rest of him looked worn by scarcity.
Despite his gauntness, there was a wiry resilience in the way he stood. Hunger has carved him down, but it has also made him nimble, quick, and unexpectedly tough. Nesta may look breakable at first glance, but there was something in his posture, a thin thread of determination pulled taut through his entire being, that suggested he won't be undone easily.
"You will have to pay to get to look at me like that, pervert"he said jokingly trying his best to get on Clara's nerves a little. Unfortunately though she only giggled and continued to stare signaling that the show was going well for her.
"I will like to pay with a gift on our trip. I promise to give you something great in return"she declared with deceit written all over her face. She tried to hide it but Nesta could already see through her deception.
"Would you please help me put on this clothing"he asked politely to ease the tension that was building up in the room.
Tap! Tap!
Footsteps echoed with each step she took while the floorboards also did their best to salvage the moment by making sounds of their own. Nesta stood silently still with the kimono in hand as the gracious figure of Clara slowly approached where he stood. If he hadn't realized it before then he could at the moment. Clara looked much beautiful than before and the sight of it all was driving Nesta insane.
"Do you by any means take collagen pills?"he asked shamelessly trying to pinpoint the secret behind her unmatched beauty which made it hard for him to breathe at the moment. She outstretched her hand when she got close to him but Nesta was still engrossed with her face that he was still not responding to her actions. This made Clara sigh inwardly with a bright smile appearing on her face as she slammed her fist on top of his head. This caused Nesta who was in a trance at the moment to come back to his senses. Sensing the pain which was generated when the strike had successfully landed on his head he looked at Clara with a facial expression which spoke volumes of how he wished he could beat her up right there and then.
"What are you going to do about it big boy?"she asked clearly annoying him with each passing second. Nesta on the other side decided to keep quiet and let time do its magic as he tossed the kimono into her palm. Afterwards he stood still like a statue while waiting for the inevitable to happen.
"Cool down a little, you don't have to be like that. Just relax I'm not going to gobble you up kiddo"she said with a slight chuckle as she started with her elegant work.
She dressed Nesta in the kimono with a care that felt almost ceremonial, though the narrow hallway of the nagaya was dim and cramped around them. The sliding door had been left half-open, letting in a thin rectangle of morning light that caught the dust in the air and turned it to drifting gold. Nesta stood still on the tatami, his lean frame tense with a mixture of shyness and surprise.
The kimono itself was too fine for him—soft indigo cotton brushed against his ribs, hanging a little loose from his narrow shoulders. Clara had knelt behind him, her hands steady as she lifted the fabric and drew it around him. He felt each movement clearly, for he had so little flesh to cushion her touch: her fingers tracing the fold across his chest, the firm tug of the obi as she wrapped it around his slender waist.
She had worked with a quiet, practiced rhythm. The faint scent of soap clung to her sleeves, and the wooden beams below them creaked each time she shifted from one position to another. Yet here, in this small shared space, there was a sense of intimacy—gentle, almost reverent.
Nesta had kept his eyes lowered, watching the kimono's hem brush against his bare ankles. He had not worn anything so clean or beautiful in longer than he could remember. Clara, noticing the way he held himself, had smoothed a hand over his shoulder once she finished, checking that the folds lay straight.
"There," she had murmured, her voice soft but sure. And Nesta, wrapped in the careful work of her hands, had felt—if only for a moment—less like a starving boy in an empty nagaya who got lost in the jungle and more like someone worth tending to.
Clara quickly got up from behind him certainly admiring her handiwork which stood elegantly in front of her like a knight in shiny armor.
"You look so much better than when I first saw you in those bushes"she teased and clicked her tongue a little with her hand propped up against her waist which did not resemble that of a warrior.
"No one will mistake you for a warrior, they will all think that you are the wife of an emperor or his concubine "Nesta retorted with a devilish grin on his flustered face.
"Sorry to burst your bubble though, that's why I will be wearing this mask and you will also be wearing this amulet."
Nesta's face was full confusion when she had spoken her final words before stuffing her hand in inside her cleavage and pulling something out from there.
Clara drew the amulet from her cleavage with a swift, deliberate motion, the way someone retrieves a thing kept close not for vanity but for protection. For a heartbeat, Nesta saw only her hand emerging from the folds of her kimono —then the object dangled from her fingers, catching the faint light that seeped through the slatted window of the nagaya.
It was small enough to rest in her palm, yet it carried a quiet gravity. The cord was dark, softened by years of warmth and wear, its fibers slightly frayed where it had pressed against her skin. At its end hung a thin wooden charm, smoothed by touch until the edges felt almost silky. The wood had deepened to a mellow amber, as though it had absorbed the warmth of every heartbeat it had rested against.
Carved into its surface was a single character—simple, flowing, almost alive. The grooves of the inscription were darkened with age, filled with the faint sheen of oil from countless fingers. When Clara tilted it toward him, the character caught the light and seemed to glow softly, like a coal banked beneath ash.
She pressed it into Nesta's hand, and it felt surprisingly warm, as if it had been carrying a piece of her body's heat. The charm was light, but not insubstantial; he could feel the solid truth of it against his palm. A faint scent clung to it—cedar, clean fabric, and something gentle he could never quite name but always associated with her.
"It protected me," she had said quietly, her eyes steady on his. "Now let it protect you."
Nesta closed his fingers around it, and in that moment the amulet seemed to become heavier, as though it recognized its new purpose.
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