Suma had a favorite. Of course, she loved her wives, & she loved her husband, But she loved her wife, just a bit more.

A Suma latched onto your clothed bicep, her gentle hands draped lazily over the crook of your forearm, the broad of your bicep, & the bend of your elbow, she followed your steps down the lantern-lit streets of Asakusa.

It was something about the sensation. The mercy of being a wife, & a woman, rather than a trophy for Tengen to carelessly display. It was something about the gentleness. The way you had to keep a natural distance in public, but never minded the endearment of the girl latching onto you. It was something about how softly you spoke to her. It was something about how she could simply window shop, & admire the little things, rather than having what was expected of the richest of an Uzui, expected of Her. Having being forced into an arranged marriage at 11 hadn't exactly been ideal for her. The cult had been relentless, at that age. Only 11, she had been. Tengen 15, as all 4 wives were eagerly swooped into his grasp,

It was tiring to be an Uzui, at times.

"Do you want to visit the port?" You called out, softly, to the woman. Who delicately traced her slender fingers up, & down your arm. Her head rested tiredly against your shoulder.

Suma had never been much of a night owl. Ironic, for the occupation that required her utmost attention in the late hours of the evening,

But she enjoyed the sensation. Besides the questioning, or judgemental glares of the women's sexualities , she enjoyed the cold, dusk air, prickling at her sensitive lungs. She enjoyed the darkness. The notion to feel concealed, in the dark, lantern-blooming streets.

Suma was at an irrevocable peace.

"You might have to carry me on the walk back.." She teased.