It was surreal to see such a perfect emulation of Masamune. His voice, his eyes, his stance… all the important, personal details were the same, down to the way he angled his head when he spoke. But his smile, that was different. That was an expression she’d only seen on his face once, right before she’d defeated him, and before that only in childhood. Off the battlefield, a mere glimpse of that same smile rocked her more than she would’ve thought.

There were too many things she hadn’t predicted, things about reuniting with a brother who was supposed to be gone that had the potential to stir old memories.

The camellia was another of those things.

Once he’d brought his hand out from behind his back and exposed it, Tsubaki couldn’t tear her eyes away. There it was, the flower that had, through contention and bitterness, slowly caused their family to fall apart, much like the slow wilting of a camellia. Her namesake. Her flower. And he was holding it out as if expecting her to accept it.

A part of her was sure someone was playing a joke on her, while another part expected Masamune’s mocking disdain to wash over her at any second as it had for most of her life.

It has a nice scent…

Silly how a mere flower could make her feel sick to her stomach.

This time Tsubaki thought for sure she would be rooted to the spot forever, stuck in place while this person who had the face of her brother looked on, still with the flower in his hand. Her lips moved, soundlessly. It seemed like camellias had been at the heart of everything, alongside hurt feelings and unspoken thoughts. What had Miyu’s family been through that tied them to camellias? A similar sad past? Or was their story better?

Whatever she might have been able to will herself to say, it all seemed to dissipate like smoke at the sight of the flower, leaving her staring.