“Time to sweep the ashes.”
I ignored the Emperor of Flames rocketing out of the Fire Dragon Hall like a firework, and asked Yan Ya Princess, calm as a pond, “Got any cleaning tools in here?”
“We do, but they’re all pretty moldy, like moss-eaten brooms in a cave.”
With a lollipop tucked between her lips, her round eyes bright as twin moons, she blinked. “Yumigawa Sumeragi, you’re gonna clean the Fire Dragon Hall? It’s huge as a valley! That’s brutal work, better let it slide.”
“Let it slide? No. Absolutely not.” Heat flared in my chest like a spark hitting tinder, and I clenched a fist as if gripping a torch.
“Listen well, Yan Ya Princess.” My voice rang like steel on stone. “A maid, wherever she stands, sweeps the ground beneath her like raking leaves in autumn.”
“Big house, small hut, filth or soot—it doesn’t matter; if you can’t make the place clean and ordered, you don’t get to call yourself a maid.”
“Cooking, laundry, tea—those come after, like rivers after rain.”
“Yes, a maid is a sacred trade, like a teacher lighting lanterns for the young.”
“A maid’s duty is to give the master a livable home and a hot meal, like warmth in winter wind.”
“She should wash clothes, brew tea, tidy rooms, and when needed, ease the master’s worries, like a hand on a fevered brow.”
“So the bedrock of a maid is this—household mastery and a spine of responsibility, firm as a mountain.”
“Even if the master’s hopeless, shameless, or idiotic, like a pig stumbling in lotus ponds, she still serves him well.”
“Ooh—!” Yan Ya Princess’s spirit caught like dry straw, and she let out a thrilled shout that sparkled like sparks on stone.
“I didn’t get all of that, but I felt your heart like summer thunder. Hold on, I’ll fetch the tools.”
She vanished like a flame blown out, then popped back in like a candle relit, arms full of brooms, mops, and harsh cleaners.
“Good.” I rolled up my sleeves like rolling clouds, tied back my hair, set a kerchief, and took up a broom like a spear of bamboo.
“Yan Ya Princess, wait outside a bit, like resting by a cool spring. Come back in when I’m done.”
“Oh, okay!” She nodded like a pecking bird, dashed out of the Fire Dragon Hall, and left me alone with the dust like a silent desert.
“Then, let’s clean.” I drew in a breath like drawing a blade, and put my whole body into it like a millstone turning.
The place was vast as a canyon, but a few augmentation sword arts for strength and speed would be wind at my back, and I’d finish in no time.
…
Outside the Fire Dragon Hall.
“Sister mine, why stand alone like a pine on a cliff? Where’s Yumigawa?” The Emperor of Flames shook off cinders from his robe like a dog shaking rain.
“Yumigawa Sumeragi’s cleaning the Fire Dragon Hall,” she said, relief dropping from her shoulders like a lifted boulder.
Her brother finally looked normal, and the shame of his earlier rampage still stung her like smoke in the eyes.
“What?!” His eyes flew wide like doors blown by a gale. “That’s the Fire Dragon Hall! It hasn’t been cleaned in centuries, like an old volcano left to sleep! Why would he—?!”
“Useless bro, you’re so lazy,” Yan Ya Princess shot him a glare sharp as a knife, then sighed like wind over embers, resigned to her fate.
“Can’t you be a bit diligent? Yumigawa Sumeragi just—” She got madder the more she thought, anger bubbling like boiling tar, and she kicked him a few times like tossing pebbles at a stump.
Then she told him, word for word, what Yumigawa Sumeragi had said, each sentence clear as beads on a string.
When she finished, the Emperor of Flames—
“Uuu… Yumigawa, how dazzling—how dazzling—how blindingly dazzling!” He dropped to his knees like a struck tree and wept, tears hissing on hot rock like rain on iron.
He clawed at the rough, burning ground like a penitent at a shrine, shaken by Yumigawa Sumeragi’s maidly soul.
He had lived in the Fire Dragon Hall for over a thousand years, drifting like ash, and he had never truly cleaned it, except when boredom flicked him like a lazy breeze.
Worse, several times he’d made it dirtier, like muddying a stream with his own hands.
Yumigawa Sumeragi had accepted being his maid under duress, like a sword drawn by oath, not by choice, yet his sense of duty burned steady like a lantern in wind.
He still carried out a maid’s charge with care, like a monk sweeping temple steps before dawn.
How could the Emperor of Flames not be moved, like ice thawing under spring sun? Forced into the role, yet no resentment, only thoughtfulness.
He finally understood: a maid like Yumigawa Sumeragi was the true maid, a jewel among pebbles, brighter than any he’d read in stories.
“Uuu, my life’s been so sloppy and lazy, like weeds choking a garden! I should—”
“Bro, it’s not too late to change,” Yan Ya Princess said, a touch of comfort like cool water in summer.
“—I should marry Yumigawa and make him my wife! I can’t let him leave the Land of Lava!” His eyes flared like torches in a mine.
I was a fool, Yan Ya Princess thought, to believe, even for a heartbeat, that my useless bro would reform, like expecting snow in a furnace.
Her fury burst forth and took form, melting earth and stone around her like wax before a flame.
Boom!
The nearby lava pool answered her rage, and several pillars of fire surged up like geysers spearing the sky.
“Useless bro, go die!” She drew in fire element with all her might, gathering it underfoot like wind in a sail, and kicked the Emperor of Flames.
Unlike before, this kick hurled him into the heavens like a meteor, bright and brief across the vault of smoke.
…
He came back not long after, unscathed, like a salamander strolling out of a blaze.
…
Four or five hours flowed by like shadows moving on a sundial, and a voice rose from within the Fire Dragon Hall like a bell after fog.
“Yan Ya Princess, and you, idiot Emperor of Flames! I’ve finished cleaning the Fire Dragon Hall! Get in here.”
“That fast!” Brother and sister traded a look like lightning across clouds, equally stunned.
Clearly, Yumigawa Sumeragi’s maid skills weren’t just real; they towered above the rest like a peak above the treeline.
“Uh, let’s go in, useless bro,” she said, tugging him along like a kite on a string.
“Mm…” He wanted to quip about her nickname, but he swallowed it like a bitter pill, knowing he’d earned it.
They strode to the front of the Fire Dragon Hall, and with the doors open like a mouth of light, they walked straight in.
“…”
“…”
They froze at the sight inside, words turning to steam on their tongues.
Sparkling.
Sparkling.
Sparkling.
Sparkling…
Floor, walls, ceiling, chandeliers, every fitting and carving—everything was clean to a mirror sheen, throwing back light like a lake at noon.
Hours ago it had been a ruin, a nest of dust and ash; now it was reborn, like a phoenix sloughing soot for gold.
Yumigawa Sumeragi’s maidly combat power was terrifying, a summit above the clouds, far beyond ordinary top tier.
For the first time, the siblings truly understood.
