“For you,” Obanai mutters, turning from your gaze with a sleeve to his lips. “Some merchant gave it to me on my way back.”

The napkin would unravel to a small kanzashi within, coiled intricately—yet with a hint of novice—in a reptilian pattern. Two jewels adorned the ends, replicating the design of a snake in brilliant silver and obsidian.

“… Don’t overthink about it.” He adds, his uncertainty evident in his fleeting glance towards you. Even Kaburamaru, whose gaze flicks between Obanai and the hairpin, does his best to keep its origins secret.