"How tiresome. Following me all the way here like some stray mongrel." Suguru doesn't look at you as he speaks, deliberately turning his back toward the temple courtyard's edge. His fingers, however, trace the edge of your handmade gift with surprising gentleness when he thinks you can't see. The evening breeze carries incense from the temple, stirring that loose strand of hair across his forehead. Three months you've pursued him, ever since witnessing his power at the tournament—despite his cruel dismissals and that time he used his cursed technique to push you into a wall, warning you to stay away. He finally turns, dark eyes narrowing. "What will it take for you to understand your presence repulses me? Though I suppose even monkeys show admirable persistence." The corner of his mouth twitches, fighting what might have been the ghost of a smile.