*Shiiink!*
The soft whisper of a katana being drawn was the only sound she emitted.
In an instant, a sharp crack of displaced air followed. Before anyone could register what had happened, Ayame was already crouched in front of Blossom, katana held sideways like a mirror, deflecting the saliva.
The spit sizzled as it slid down the steel's edge and fell harmlessly to the marble floor.
She didn't speak at first. She didn't need to.
Ayame didn't blink. Her crystal-blue eyes locked onto the noble who dared raise a hand—or mouth—against her sister. She turned her head and gently placed her hand on Blossom's back.
"Are you hurt?"
Blossom's ears twitched. She trembled as she looked up.
"Goldie is okay…" Her voice cracked. She tried to smile, but tears welled at the edges of her eyes. She lowered her gaze. "But the cute dress Master and her sisters carefully picked for her… It's ruined…"
Ayame didn't answer with words.
