Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He arrived in Tokyo with only his clothes and a shadow where his left arm used to be. An unexpected explosion on the battlefield had resulted in that loss, and the infection had landed him in the hospital. The doctors assumed he wouldn’t survive, but he proved them wrong. He fought back death, knowing that he had to return to his dojo, to his students, and most of all, to his daughter.

Because the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself, he took the back roads just before dawn. Each step closer to home became achingly familiar, and in a perfectly timed moment, the sun rose above his house’s roof. Light cast over the courtyard and…who was that?

There was a man, draping a blanket over the clothesline, and his red hair glinted in the weak sunshine. In fact, his hair almost matched the very familiar gi he wore.

Koshijiro tensed. Who was this stranger, wearing his clothes? And where was Kaoru?

His second question was promptly answered. The door slid back, and Kaoru stepped out in her kenjutsu uniform. Thankfully, she had not changed at all, and that was some comfort until she spoke. “Kenshin, I said you didn’t have to do the laundry.”

“Well, this one feels he has to do something to earn his keep.” The man’s voice was soft and even.

“You’ve only been here for a week. And I’m not even charging you rent!”

The stranger was living in the house? With Kaoru? And they were on a given-name basis?

He felt lost, as if the world he knew was suddenly replaced with a different one. What had happened while he was gone? He loudly cleared his throat, and they both turned to face him. His daughter immediately paled. “Otou-san?”

“I’m back, Kaoru.” He answered, even if he didn’t feel like it. He partly expected her to run to him or respond with ‘welcome home’, but to his surprise, she fell to her knees in clear shock.

“You’re alive?”

“…you thought I was dead?”

This was definitely not what he expected.

He pointedly glared at the fidgeting redhead across the table, as Kaoru poured tea for all three of them. There were leftovers from breakfast, which looked presentable. He tried a bite and was pleased; his daughter must have improved in her cooking. At least, this change was welcome. “The rice is good.” Not dry or soggy, and definitely not burned.

“Kenshin made it.” Kaoru informed.

He had to swallow to keep from choking.

“And will you tell me what happened? The war, the letter about your death, but most importantly, your arm.” She reached over to touch his limp sleeve and whispered. “They really cut it off?”

“I was unconscious when they did, and I woke up with nothing below my shoulder.” At the sight of her stricken face, he added. “There are phantom pains now and then, but I survived a nasty fever. I’m alright now, and I’m home at last.” When she was little, he patted her head to comfort her, and he felt a twinge in his shoulder. His body remembered the motion, even though it could no longer carry it out. “So what’s this about a letter?”

She blinked. “Oh, that’s right. I got a letter from your commanding officer, saying that you…didn’t make it. They said they would send the body, which they didn’t because there wasn’t a body to begin with!” Her voice had steadily increased in volume. “How could they send a false notice like that?”

“They moved on without me, so most likely, they didn’t realize I survived the blast that took my arm. They must have thought I was good as dead and sent it anyway.”

“But still, we had a funeral for you and everything! Then, the rumors started and the students left. I…I thought I was alone.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I didn’t realize what everyone else would have thought; if I had, I would have tried to recover faster. But it looks like you weren’t alone after all.” He turned towards the stranger, who nervously inclined his head.

“This one is Himura Kenshin. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Kenshin helped me out, when the dojo was in trouble. He doesn’t have a home, so I offered him a place to stay. He’s just a boarder, we’ve had them before.”

She had never referred to the other boarders by their given name. “I see you’ve made yourself at home, Himura-san.”

“Oro, this one didn’t mean to intrude. Or wear your clothes, but this one will return them.” He tugged at the front of the red gi.

“Keep them, my daughter can make her own choices. If she gave them to you, so be it; I won’t spoil her kindness.”

“Indeed, she has been very kind to this one.” He beamed at her, and to Koshijiro’s shock, she blushed. Like a girl. Like a girl in love.

“Like I said, you were the one who helped me, and you do the housework too. All I’ve done is given you a roof over your head and a place at the table.”

“And a warm futon. That’s what this one has missed the most, so this one is especially thankful for that.”

“W-well, of course.”

At this, Koshijiro’s thoughts went down an extremely slippery slope, and anger flooded him. While Kaoru could decide things on her own, she was still young. How dare this man, good cook or not, take advantage of her like that?!

The table clattered as he stood up, and his daughter called out his name just before he swung a right hook at Himura. The man dodged the blow, rolling away into the wall with a loud thump, as Koshijiro stumbled from throwing off his balance.

“What are you doing?!” Kaoru shouted, running over. No, wait, not to him, to Himura. “Kenshin, are you alright?”

“This one is fine, Kaoru-dono.”

“Kaoru-dono?” Koshijiro repeated, in disbelief. “You refer to her so formally, even after…”

“After what?” His daughter demanded. “Y-you don’t think, that Kenshin and I…Otou-san!”

And that was when he received an earful.

“Where did I go wrong, Kyoko?” He muttered in front of the altar. His late wife’s visage, portrayed in a few strokes of ink, stared solemnly back at him. “I left her alone for six months, and she’s gone and fallen in love with a passing stranger.”

Kaoru had retold last week’s encounter, red-faced and scowling by the end of it, before stomping off. The dojo was threatened by defaming rumors, when she met Himura. He was only passing by, but he came back to fight off the men. Out of gratitude, she offered him a room, and there had been no futon-sharing or anything of the sort, so don’t even think of kicking him out, Otou-san.

Still, it didn’t stop his suspicions about her affection towards this ‘rurouni’. He hadn’t forgotten how she ran to the redhead first, rather than her own father.

He sighed. “What should I do? You know I was never good at this kind of thing.” If Kyoko was alive, she would have knowingly laughed. She was more in touch with her emotions and could have communicated to Kaoru better. But she wasn’t here, and he had to decipher his daughter’s behavior on his own. Quietly, he bowed to Kyoko’s makeshift memorial before walking into the dojo.

He frowned. There were traces of the fight on the scuffed floor and the scratches on the wall. He glanced up, his frown deepening. Neither of them had told him about the hole in the ceiling! Someone, probably Kaoru, had tried to patch it up with cloth, but he mentally made a note to fix it. Or rather, hire a laborer to fix it.

Not having both arms was irritating.

“Oro, Kamiya-dono, this one didn’t know you were in here. Ah, this one would fix the ceiling, but this one isn’t very good at construction work. Kaoru-dono has already contacted someone to repair it.” He turned his attention to Himura, who approached closer.

“It’s fine.” He said gruffly. “And thank you for telling me. So you protected my daughter with that sword?” He jerked his chin towards the man’s sakabato. “I approve of it; it didn’t shed blood here.”

Himura looked down, nodding. “This one heard that you founded Kamiya Kasshin after fighting in the Bakumatsu.”

“Yes. It’s not a time I like to remember, but in order to never let it happen again, I have to. I remember war every time I step into this dojo, every time I strike with bamboo, and every time I teach. Luckily, it isn’t hard to forget.”

“That’s true.”

“You sound like you know what I’m talking about, but you can’t imagine how horrible it was.”

“This one can, because this one fought in the Bakumatsu, for the Ishin-shishi. Three, four years under the command of Katsura Kogoro. That is why this one carries a sakabato, for this one has also sworn to never take life again.” His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

He narrowed his eyes. “How old are you?”

“This one is twenty-eight.”

“…do you have a way to confirm that?”

“Oro!”

“Never mind, I believe you.” He paused. “Have you told Kaoru?”

“This one has.”

“And she invited you in, knowing that anyway?”

“She did. Despite how unworthy this one is, Kaoru-dono accepted this one.”

“Then, she really is my daughter.” At this, Himura smiled, but Koshijiro wasn’t finished. “However, that doesn’t mean I’ll accept how lax she’s been.” His hand balled into a fist and he held it in front of him, parallel to his shoulder. “Do you see my arm?”

Himura nodded once, tense and apprehensive.

“Good. This distance is how far you have to stay away from Kaoru. Any closer than that is unacceptable. Understood?”

“…yes?” It sounded like a question.

“Otou-san, what’s going on?!” Kaoru had returned, standing in the doorway. “You’re not going to punch him again, are you?”

He lowered his arm. “I’m only telling him his boundaries, if he wants to stay here. I have a young daughter and a grown man under the same roof; someone has to act as chaperone.”

“Geez, it’s not like anything will happen!”

His mouth twisted. When he was younger, he had studied under a swordsman to gain experience. That swordsman had a daughter, and that was Kyoko. So, he knew about this firsthand, and in fact, it was the very reason he started this discussion! Just as he was about to voice this, Himura spoke.

“This one can obey that.”

“Kenshin!”

“This one is only a rurouni, an outsider.” He shrugged. “This one is happy enough to stay, that is all. With that said, this one has to prepare lunch. Kaoru-dono, will you help this one? It has a while since Kamiya-dono has eaten at home.”

She looked between the two of them, before throwing her hands up. “No more fighting, that’s the only thing I ask. Otou-san, you have to relax, so just wait until we’re finished cooking. Come on, Kenshin.” She pivoted to head inside, and Himura followed.

“Arm’s length.” Koshijiro warned, remembering the close proximity of the kitchen. With these two, he would have to be vigilant.

“We got it, Otou-san!” Kaoru grumbled. At her side, Himura only gave an ambiguous smile.

Extremely, extremely vigilant.

Chapter Text

Koshijiro woke to a jolt of pain and gritted his teeth. He had to ride it through, there was nothing to be done except take medicine. He didn't want to consider that. The doctors of the Satsuma hospital had given him too much, and he hated how the persistent numbness dulled his senses. The pain wasn't that bad, he told himself, but he made a mental reminder to meditate later.

After he stretched and managed to put on his clothes, he opened his bedroom door and abruptly stopped. Himura was standing in front of him, his fist raised as if to knock. "Kamiya-dono, good morning." The redheaded man beamed. "This one was about to tell you that breakfast is ready."

"I see. Thank you, Himura-san." He curtly nodded and stepped past him. He was about to head for the table, when another door slid open and Himura spoke again.

"Good morning, Kaoru-dono."

"Mm, good morning, Kenshin." His daughter still looked drowsy, but she was clad in her training uniform.

"An extra five minutes will not be required today?" There was a note of amusement in Himura's tone.

She laughed. "No, that's because Otou-san…is awake and standing right there." She had noticed him in the hallway mid-sentence and straightened her posture. "Good morning, Otou-san."

"Good morning, Kaoru."

"Um, I don't always sleep in."

"That's right, and Kaoru-dono doesn't ask for more than five minutes." Himura added. From this entire conversation, it sounded as if Himura knocking on her door was a normal occurrence.

"And no, he doesn't go into my room, Otou-san. I know you were going to ask that."

He grimaced. He really was about to, but instead he said. "Don't worry about the five minutes. The past months were difficult for you." All of the students had left as well; he would have to address that. "As long as you're prepared on time for practice, that's all I ask."

As he made his way to the table, he heard his daughter confide to Himura. "Otou-san is very serious when it comes to kenjutsu."

He couldn't deny that, but it was clear that things were going to change. He couldn't hold a shinai properly, and in a fight, he would have trouble keeping his balance. He had already proven that, with Himura. No, there was only one path he could take from now on.

The three of them ate breakfast together. The miso, rice, and fish were good, he grudgingly realized. But he would have rather suffered another phantom pain than say it to Himura's face.

"Anyway, no one's come back yet." Kaoru said. "But some students might show up today, because the head instructor's finally home." She smiled at him, and he felt slightly guilty about what he was about to say.

"Kaoru, I'm not going to be teaching."

"Well, I know that." Her worried gaze drifted to his limp sleeve. "You still need to recover, don't you? But if the students come back, you can correct them. Especially the older ones, they respected you more."

"No, I meant…" He paused for a moment and sighed. "I'm stepping down."

She dropped her chopsticks, and they clattered in her bowl. "Huh?! Then, what are you going to do?"

"It's not as if I'm breaking all ties to the school. I'll remain as an advisor and sparring judge, but main teaching duties will be yours from now on."

She stood in shock. "Me? But I haven't even won a match with the succession techniques yet!"

"That shouldn't matter. You alone have stood by Kamiya Kasshin, and the students must honor that. If I'm the only one who can keep them here, the school will crumble as soon as I'm dead. If Kamiya Kasshin is to survive in the new era, it must learn to survive under new leadership." He sipped his tea, before looking at her directly. "You deserve to be head instructor, Kaoru. You've proven as much, over and over, and to keep you as an assistant instructor would be denying that. So, please accept."

She seemed like she was about to protest, but she knelt down again and lifted her chin. "I humbly accept the title of head instructor."

He nodded. "Good."

"Congratulations, Kaoru-dono." Oh, Himura was still at the table.

"Th-thanks." She nervously stirred her miso. "Wait, is this the last of the miso paste?"

"Unfortunately, it is. This one will have to go to the market later."

"You still don't know your way around, I'll come with you. It's not as if there are students to teach." She grumbled.

"I'll come too." Koshijiro added.

"Otou-san, you don't have to. And not as a chaperone, because it's not necessary since nothing will happen."

"I haven't said anything of the sort."

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms. "Then, why do you want to go into town?"

He was stoic, trying to formulate an excuse, when Himura spoke up. "Kamiya-dono, there is paperwork to fill, isn't there? For reclaiming your job as a policeman and notifying the census about your mistaken death."

"…That's right." And even worse, it was completely true. He had forgotten about his legal status; he had been too focused on returning to the dojo. "We'll leave if no one shows up before noon."

He hoped that at least one person would come, so Kaoru could act as head instructor for the first time, but the hours ticked past. As he meditated in his room to keep the pain at bay, he faintly heard his daughter griping about the lack of attendance and Himura's gentler responses.

They had better be staying apart. Damn it, he had tensed up again. He forced himself to relax each muscle, one by one, and let his consciousness sink away from worldly concerns.

Still, he was relieved when they finally departed. However, it wasn't for long. His daughter and Himura walked alongside each other, no thanks to the narrow road. He couldn't be as strict, and Himura knew it. He had even apologized beforehand.

"Sorry, Kamiya-dono. It will be difficult to abide by your rule." He had given his signature harmless smile. "Perhaps, this one can walk in front."

"That's acceptable."

"We are not going to the market in single file!" Kaoru scowled. "Otou-san, how hard is it to make an exception? After all, the way of Kamiya Kasshin includes 'being fluid in thought and action'. Remember?"

"I remember that's advice for sparring, not…whatever this is." He finished lamely. Drilling the tenets of his philosophy into her memory had backfired on him, and he was caught off guard.

"It doesn't matter! Honestly!" She angrily headed down the path, and Himura caught up to her. He had spoken to her, in a soothing tone.

So now, Koshijiro remained a few paces behind them, frowning every time their shoulders almost brushed. But Himura had defused her temper. She had changed the subject, trying to make conversation. "One of the other dojos offered that I practice with them, so I'll be gone tomorrow afternoon."

"Do you prefer anything for tomorrow's dinner?"

"Mm, whatever's cheap is fine. We can see what's for sale today."

"That sounds like a good plan, Kaoru-dono."

His irritation still lingered, picking at the exchange. He had spoken like that with Kyoko, when they were newlyweds. But before they were married and he hadn't worked up the courage to court her, she had insisted on walking by his side.

"If I'm going to talk to you, I'd rather do it face to face." She had told him. "Otherwise, how can my words reach you? Aren't we friends? Or did that change, now that my parents aren't around?" He had been taken aback and embarrassed, so he slowed his pace to match hers.

Even now, you have the answer to this, don't you? He wryly thought. It was true that the three of them were living under one roof, but that didn't mean he could force them to act like strangers once they passed the gate. And now that Kaoru was head instructor, he had to trust her, and not just with kenjutsu. He probably wasn't ready to extend the same sentiment to Himura, though…

They approached the market, and above the noise of the bustling crowd, Himura said. "Thank you for escorting us, Kamiya-dono."

"You're welcome, Himura-san." He didn't sound as clipped as he thought, and the younger man courteously nodded.

Kaoru took a hesitant step. "Otou-san, I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"No, it was my fault for being rigid." He conceded. "Fluidity in thought and action are important outside of the dojo…and out of the house as well. You were right, head instructor."

That made her smile. "You don't have to call me that, to make your point. But, thank you. We'll see you later." They both waved, and she quickly called Himura's attention over to a stall.

He eyed their backs, just to make sure Himura was behaving, before turning towards the police station. He believed he could enter without much fuss, but the skinny man at the front desk recognized him right away.

"Kamiya-san?!" It was Mori, who had been assigned to Tokyo three years ago. He blinked hard. "A ghost? No, is this a dream?"

He decided to be frank, for time's sake. "Good afternoon, Mori-san. I didn't die in Satsuma, and I've come home. Is the chief here?"

"Yes, he's in his office. He'll be glad to see you, I'm sure."

He wasn't fond of the chief, but he didn't have to be. He had been a hard worker, and the chief appreciated that. Their conversation was short.

The chief adjusted his glasses. "I can't send you into active duty like that. We have plenty of patrols, thanks to a unit sent from Satsuma. But to be honest, I can't bring myself to turn you away. If you want, there's paperwork to be done."

"Paperwork would be fine. I look forward to working with you again."

After they negotiated his salary, he bowed to the chief and left. A carriage had just pulled up outside, and a tall man with an impressive mustache walked out. He seemed important enough for Koshijiro to stay out of his way.

Although his medical records from Satsuma had arrived, the contradictions in the Tokyo office had to be resolved. The frustrating legal paperwork took until sunset; when he was officially alive, his daughter and Himura were already home. She was pouring tea into his cup, and they greeted him.

"I assume the market trip went well?" Koshijiro inquired.

"Yes, it did." Himura answered. "Tomorrow's dinner has also been decided."

"But we're keeping it a surprise for you." Kaoru cheekily said.

He shook his head, but smiled. "Very well, but I was more concerned about tonight's meal. Let's eat."

The following morning was decidedly strange. There were more than fifteen prospective students outside the door, and Kaoru was excited. "Kamiya Kasshin will be revived!"

He had just left the table, when Himura walked up to her side. "This isn't good."

"Eh?" She blinked, and before Koshijiro could remind Himura about the arm's length rule, the rurouni announced.

"This one isn't a teacher or part of this dojo. If you're here because of yesterday's incident, this one is sorry but you will have to leave."

Within a few seconds, they had all scrambled off. Himura hummed something about tending to the bath, and Koshijiro glanced at his stricken daughter.

"Yesterday's incident?" He repeated. "What happened at the market?"

"Kenshin fought off some of the sword-wielding police, when they were harassing him and a crowd. And he obviously got popular enough to finally lure students here!" She ground out and stalked toward Himura. "You idiot! Why did you send them home?!"

The sword-wielding police from Satsuma? He had heard their skills excelled that of the Tokyo police, but Himura had taken them on by himself? Any other man would have been labeled reckless, but Koshijiro mulled it over. Himura had also fought multiple opponents in the dojo and won. That kind of fighting wasn't reckless, it was discerning and highly so. It explained why he turned away those prospective students as well. Nevertheless, Koshijiro would only believe his own eyes, that the man was skilled with a blade. And more importantly…

"The two of them didn't mention the fight." Granted, they had steered away from the subject, but they should have told him anyway! If he had known, well, he would have become stricter and that afternoon's discussion would have been meaningless. Perhaps, he couldn't blame them, but he made a decision.

I should be there for the next fight that happens.

His daughter was still furious when she was about to leave for the other dojo. Himura was tagging along for another errand, while Koshijiro had his newly assigned paperwork to tend to. Out of respect for his war injury and seniority, he had been allowed to work at home in peace.

"Kaoru, don't be so upset." He told her. "If Himura hadn't told them off, I would have chased them away."

"Otou-san!" She scowled.

"If they can't respect you as the head instructor, they aren't worth having as students."

"And if we don't have students, how can we earn money?"

"…If my work goes well, the chief may give me a raise."

"Geez, that's not funny!"

Himura chuckled. "Father and daughter have similar glares."

Well, no one had asked for his opinion. Koshijiro thought sourly. But Himura had been right in telling off the prospective students. They were only concerned with strength, not the will to protect life. They wouldn't have honestly followed the path of Kamiya Kasshin.

The day dragged on, but obviously, news of his return had spread. Dr. Gensai paid a visit, allowing his granddaughters to play in the grass while they talked.

"Are you experiencing pain, where your left arm used to be?"

"There are times, but I can endure it."

"Well, if it gets to be too much, I have medicine that will do the trick. Not opium, of course, and you shouldn't touch that either."

"I know. A drug like that is dangerous, perhaps even more so because it cures pain." In his paperwork, there were reports of opium-related deaths. "However, healing the body means nothing, if it poisons the mind."

A letter from Maekawa also arrived, requesting a meeting next week. He wrote a reply, but he wondered why his old friend hadn't visited in person. Then again, the Maekawa dojo had students, and Maekawa himself had always been courteous.

In the end, he hadn't been able to finish his paperwork. He had to work slowly, to avoid making mistakes, and he didn't have his left hand to hold down the paper as he wrote. He had been focused enough, that he barely registered Kaoru's return.

"Kenshin isn't back yet?" She glanced around.

"No, not yet."

"Otou-san, were you working all day like this? You should see yourself, you look so tired." She planted her hands on her hips. "Just take a break and close your eyes for a few minutes. You'll feel better afterward."

He really must have been tired, because he dragged himself to his futon. Kaoru adjusted his pillow, and he settled onto it. "Thank you."

"You have to take care of yourself, Otou-san." She shuffled his papers together before stacking them. "It's not good to push yourself too hard."

"Did you, while I was gone?"

"I did. I was worried about the finances and the students. But now Kenshin's here to help, and I feel better than I have in months." She smiled. "Speaking of Kenshin, we saw a kid today. And that kid…I should call for a carriage. He was hurt. Just stay put, Otou-san!" She called out, hurrying away.

He wasn't aware of it, but he fell asleep. He was only woken by loud voices, and he forced himself to get up. He shook his head, to clear the drowsiness, as he entered the hallway.

"Stop calling me a hag!" That was his daughter.

"I'll do what I want, hag!" An unfamiliar voice retorted.

Koshijiro walked towards them, wincing at the light. Himura was cooking in the kitchen, and Kaoru was seated at the table. Next to her was a young boy, who had a bandage wound around his head.

Himura paused in the middle of ladling broth into bowls. "Oh, Kamiya-dono. We're about to have dinner now, so you're perfectly on time. This is Myojin Yahiko, the new student of Kamiya Kasshin."

"Because Kenshin told me to join. And who are you?" The boy spat.

"Kamiya Koshijiro. The founder of Kamiya Kasshin and father of your teacher."

"She's not my teacher, I'm not learning from this hag! Why can't I learn from you?" Too late, the boy realized Koshijiro's empty sleeve and he scowled. "Oh, that's why."

"Yes, it is."

"Because he's retired!" Kaoru snapped. "And I'm the head instructor, so you're learning from me, whether you like it or not! So there!" The boy didn't know how to hold his tongue, and they began to bicker again.

Himura was about to carry the bowls over, but he approached Koshijiro. "Kamiya-dono, is it alright if he lives here? He has nowhere else to go. Until recently, he was stealing for the yakuza. However, he'll be a diligent student. This one can see that."

Himura was serious, like when he had mentioned fighting during the Bakumatsu. But he showed that he genuinely cared for the future of Kamiya Kasshin. He had proven himself to be discerning, Koshijiro recalled his earlier consideration. And he didn't like the thought of the boy being homeless, especially when yakuza were still lurking.

"Yes, he's welcome. However, if he has such promise, he will have to learn respect before holding a shinai."

"Oro…"

During the continued banter over dinner, Koshijiro devised a schedule to space out his paperwork. If the household was expanding, he would have to work hard and earn that raise sooner.

Chapter Text

The week flew by, and when Koshijiro stopped by the Maekawa dojo, it was his friend's wife who greeted him. He wasn't well-acquainted with Sachi, yet she was unfailingly polite and today was no exception.

"I apologize, but my husband has fallen ill and he isn't in any condition to accept visitors. We're deeply sorry, Kamiya-sensei."

"No, I understand. Tell him that I wish he recovers quickly. When he's well, we can reschedule our meeting."

"Yes, of course. By the way, we're very happy that you returned home safely."

"Oh, thank you." He bowed, then left the way he came. Kaoru was at home, training the new student.

Yahiko was belligerent and disrespectful, although that could have been attributed to his lack of parenting. People gossiped about the young boy living in the Kamiya household, and it was whispered that his father had died before he was born. Yahiko's mother had died of a disease, most likely contracted by the only work available to poor widows. Still, he was the only student and Kaoru could only try her best in training him. In that case, it would be good for her, to learn how to deal with a problematic boy. Every class had one…

Koshijiro's train of thought came to a screeching halt, when he passed the gate. There were identical shallow pits on either side of the walkway, as if two projectiles had crashed into the ground. Clay shards were scattered in the grass, and he looked up to see Himura stretching cloth over an obvious hole in the dojo's front wall.

There had been another fight?!

"Kamiya-dono!" Himura jolted. "Welcome back."

"…I'm home." He shortly said, before calling out. "Kaoru!"

His daughter emerged from the dojo, with a forced smile. "Otou-san, you're back from visiting Maekawa-sensei already?"

"Maekawa-sensei is ill, so our meeting has been delayed. More importantly, what happened?"

"Some men were looking for trouble, but we made them leave."

"And why did the men target this house?"

"W-well…" She hesitated. "They were drunk."

"From what it looks like, they had managed to procure a cannon."

"Actually, yes."

Koshijiro glanced around. "Was it Hira and Sato?"

"How did you know?!"

"Out of all the students, they were the most irresponsible sake drinkers. And unfortunately, they were arrogant drunks. Did they pick a fight with the cannon bearers?"

"Wow, he's good." Yahiko spoke up, his brow damp with sweat. "Better than you are."

"I gave them the benefit of the doubt, there's nothing wrong with that." She turned back to Koshijiro. "We're alright, none of us are hurt. The carpenter will be here tomorrow, to fix the dojo."

The incredulity hadn't faded, and he frowned. He didn't like how trite the scenario sounded.

Kaoru continued. "Otherwise, that was it, and Yahiko's gotten the basic steps down. Come on, demonstrate."

The boy had good form, but he was moving too quickly.

"Yahiko, slower. You won't get any stronger if you're hasty."

"Okay." He grumbled, but he obeyed.

"You're doing well." Himura spoke up. "Kamiya-dono, may this one talk to you after this?"

It certainly had to do with the fight, and Koshijiro acquiesced. "Very well."

While Yahiko repeated the basics and Kaoru oversaw his progress, Himura began to cut vegetables for dinner. His words were interspersed with the thud of the kitchen knife. "Hira-kun and Sato-kun were foolish, but they were repentant. This one believes that the encounter was an accident."

"It most likely was, until the cannon was brought out. I'll inform the department to look for it. Even if I could, I have no power to arrest anyone." He was only a paper pusher now. "As for Hira and Sato, I must tell them that they cannot put my daughter in danger, especially if it's because of their mistakes."

"That is understandable." Himura quietly said.

An awkward silence followed, before Koshijiro inquired. "How did Kaoru react?"

The redheaded man smiled. "She was saddened, but she still told Hira-kun to see a doctor for his injured shoulder."

"Is that so? Then, the new master is rather kind."

While the dojo was repaired, they took the opportunity to clean the house. As Himura scrubbed the floors, his fast running could have been mistaken for flying. Yahiko was tasked with airing the bedding, to train his arms. Koshijiro dusted, because even with one arm, he still had the most reach. Meanwhile, Kaoru sorted through items, clearing out the junk. That was the heaviest duty, and she was still rummaging through the closet, after the carpenter was paid.

"It's alright, Kaoru. I can take over." Koshijiro offered.

"No, I want to finish what I started, and this is the last of it. Besides, Yahiko knows enough to practice on his own for the morning. Hm? What's this?" She had found a scroll, and she curiously unrolled it.

"That looks like one of your grandfather's paintings." Koshijiro's father had dabbled in the arts as a hobby; it suited his carefree nature. "He must have thought it was a failure." There had been many of those, tossed aside in despair.

"But it's not that bad, it's still a decent landscape. Ah, can we sell it?"

"Why not? It's better than letting it collect dust."

She beamed. "Then, we should treat everyone!"

And so, they set out for the Akabeko. The Kamiya family had known Sekihara Tae since she opened the restaurant, and she was a good friend to Kaoru. She called out a welcome as the group entered, and Kaoru eagerly greeted her.

"Tae, it's been so long."

"Yes, but it's nice to see you too." She warmly responded and she must have noticed Himura, for she then asked. "Is this new fellow your sweetheart?"

Kaoru waved off the question, her cheeks pink. "No, he's only boarding with us."

Abruptly, the conversation was cut short by loud voices, from a nearby table. The three men were bickering over politics, and Himura noted that they sounded like civil rights supporters. Yahiko dryly noted that they were mere drunks. Nevertheless, they were seated and ordered sukiyaki.

"Can we also have three coffees and one tea?" Kaoru added.

"Of course. The tea is for you, isn't it?" Tae turned to Koshijiro, her worried gaze directed at his left side. "How have you been, Koshijiro-san?"

"I'm well now that I'm home, Sekihara-san."

"That's good to hear, and thank you for returning safely." She bowed her head. "I'll have your order out soon." The restaurant was certainly busy, for she quickly left them.

Then, not long afterwards, a bottle suddenly crashed against Himura's head.

"Kenshin, are you alright?" Kaoru reached out to him as he gave a pitiful moan. The bottle had been thrown from that rowdy table, and Yahiko jumped at the chance to yell at the arguing men.

"Maybe you didn't notice, but you just hit someone! Apologize first!"

"Yahiko-kun, sit down." Koshijiro urged, but it was too late. Insults began to fly, and Koshijiro grimaced, as he heaved himself from his seat. If only he had his police badge and his other arm, he could have been faster at keeping the peace.

Tae had returned to interfere, but one of the men shoved her aside…straight into someone's hand. The person was a scruffy young man, with a bandana tying back his unruly hair. In a low drawl, he answered the men's demands to know who he was.

"I'm just a street fighter, who hates guys that pick on the weak. But I hate hypocrites who blab about 'freedom' and 'justice' even more."

The largest of the men, who had shoved Tae, took the most offense. "Let's take this outside."

"Sure." And with that, the street fighter, strolled out and the three men scrambled to beat him there. Meanwhile, Tae seemed a little shaken, and Koshijiro told her.

"Sekihara-san, there should be some officers patrolling nearby. If it's alright, could you find them and bring them here, in case the situation unravels? I'll stay as a proper witness."

"Yes, of course."

He stood next to his daughter, as the fight began. The larger man dealt the first punch, and Koshijiro noticed the flash of metal in his hand, right before the street fighter took the hit.

"He's a coward, he was hiding a suntetsu." Kaoru noted, and while Koshijiro silently agreed, he glared at the other men who jeered that the weapon was supposed to be hidden.

"That's true, but it doesn't matter." Himura remarked, for the street fighter was still standing. In fact, his opponent's knees buckled. Then, the street fighter flicked the man's forehead and the larger man collapsed. The fight had ended.

"I'm sorry, Koshijiro-san, but no one was there." Tae had returned, and he frowned.

"I'll have to speak to the department about that." His gaze then turned to Himura, who was speaking softly to one of the remaining men. That one was about to draw his sword, and Himura's hand was on the sakabato.

"Now, pay your bill and go home." That was all Himura said, but the other man looked stricken. In a flash, the three troublemakers sped off.

"Hold it!" Koshijiro shouted, but they didn't listen, too focused on retreating and licking their wounds.

"What, are you a cop? You sure don't look like it, old man." The street fighter drawled.

Old man? His eyelid twitched. He wasn't that old, and so what if he didn't look like a police officer now?

"Hey, is your head okay?" The street fighter's attention had drawn to Himura, who gave an affirmative answer. At Kaoru's questioning face, he clarified. "If you had dodged the bottle, it would have hit the girl in the face. You let yourself take the hit, so you could shield her, right?" The street fighter was correct, Koshijiro realized. Kaoru had been sitting opposite Himura, and the table of troublemakers had been behind him. Both Yahiko and Kaoru now looked at Himura in astonishment.

But Himura demurred, also declining an offer of a fight. The street fighter shrugged it off and walked away; the character for 'evil' was sewn into the cloth on his back.

However, as suave as that seemed, Tae noticed aloud that he hadn't paid his bill.

"Kamiya-san, you know I can't let you return to active duty." The police chief gently reminded him.

"Yes, but personnel has been low, ever since the Satsuma men left. Also, it's clear that some of the officers need to be trained." Koshijiro listed off the past instances. "Not actively pursuing the investigation of a cannon procured by a local gang. Slacking off during midday patrols. Undue delays in the arrests of three drunk men, one of whom was illegally carrying a sword. And undue delays in the arrests of Hiruma Gohei and Hiruma Kihei, who have been accused of murder and harassed my daughter for real estate." After his supposed death, the land had been legally turned over to Kaoru, and it was still under her name. There was no point in taking the land back, when she was the master of Kamiya Kasshin and would have inherited it anyway.

"I'm aware of all of that, Kamiya-san." The police chief was sweating now. "With our current numbers on the ground, we are doing all we can. If it would make you feel better, I can put you in charge of the last investigation."

He grimaced. "I did not want to be appeased, only to be listened to." He left for the afternoon, feeling terribly frustrated. In the two weeks following the incident at the Akabeko, the police had been slow to mobilize. If only he could do more than painstakingly write reports…

The next day, he worked through the morning, only stopping when Yahiko knocked. "Er, Kamiya-san? Lunch is ready."

His hand cramped as he answered. "Yes, I'll be there in a moment."

He could barely taste the onigiri and tea, for he was planning out the remainder of his work schedule. At the rate he was going, he could finish another five reports before dinner. He would have to return to work as soon as possible, although he felt a twinge of guilt at leaving the table so early. But it wasn't as if he would be missed. His daughter was reading quietly, as Yahiko scarfed down the rice balls. Himura blew at his tea, but he placed the cup down.

"We have a guest."

"Eh? Wait, Kenshin." Kaoru set down her book and hurried after him. Koshijiro exchanged a glance with Yahiko, before they followed in her wake. "What's going on?"

"This one felt his ki. This kind of spirit could not be hidden." He explained and opened the front door. The street fighter was standing there, and while Koshijiro had never mastered detecting ki, heavy intent roiled off the young man.

He shifted the wrapped spear on his shoulder. "I came to pick a fight."

"This one has already said that he won't fight."

The street fighter stepped forward. "I'm not backing down, not when my target is Hitokiri Battousai, who fought for the Ishin Shishi with the ancient style of Hiten Mitsurugi."

Koshijiro's brows drew together as the street fighter talked. The assassin for the Choushuu Ishin Shishi had been a teenager, killing for the revolutionaries until the first battle of Toba Fushimi. Then, he had disappeared, before resurfacing as none other than Himura Kenshin.

The story seemed far-fetched on the surface, but Himura did not deny it. Instead, he only asked. "How have you decided to fight this one?"

"Hmm, don't know. I'll just have to see for myself, in a fair fight."

Still, Himura deflected. "This one doesn't understand. You do not like bullying the weak, yet you live as a street fighter. And why do you wear that character for 'evil'? You seem to be honest, but right now, your thinking is warped. What happened to you, to make you like this?"

He scoffed. "If you want to know, you'll have to beat me. But you gotta know that I hate the Ishin Shishi; you all were hypocrites, using pretty words like 'equality of the four classes' and 'justice' to trample on anyone in the way. So I want to defeat you with all I've got! You, who they called the strongest of the Ishin Shishi!"

Despite himself, Koshijiro could understand the street fighter's anger. Like Himura, he had fought for the Ishin Shishi, and he knew firsthand that the side he chose was not perfect. But that did not mean this street fighter had a right to seek vengeance. As for Himura...he would address that matter soon enough.

"This one accepts." While Kaoru and Yahiko were startled by Himura's calm statement, Koshijiro wasn't. Himura had no qualms about getting involved, from what he had observed. "However, did the Hiruma brothers employ you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"They're among the few who know this one, and their ki is behind the fence."

At that, Koshijiro pivoted and headed for the gate. Indeed, Gohei and Kihei were crouching nearby, and they flinched. Koshijiro glared at them. "Out into the yard. Now."

They really were cowards to the core, because they shuffled out. The street fighter confiscated Kihei's gun, although crushing it was a tad extraneous. Koshijiro was too late, to argue that it could have been used as evidence, but the situation was progressing fast. He intended to be a silent observer, but Kihei turned to him.

"Kamiya-dono!" He gave a wide, false smile, his eyes darting to Koshijiro's missing arm. "This is just another way to negotiate selling the land."

"Oh? It seemed you were the ones who decided to stop negotiations, when you undermined the school's reputation." His tone was cool, but he was already thinking ahead. At the moment, he was only a citizen, and it was his duty to find someone else who could properly make arrests. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"Hold on, old man." The street fighter lowered his wrapped spear, barring Koshijiro from taking another step. "No one's going anywhere until we settle this fight."

"Kamiya-dono, this won't take long." Himura meant to be reassuring. He wasn't. "The dojo is too small; we can take this to the river."

Koshijiro grudgingly gave Himura credit for that. As the group walked through town, people took notice and murmured. However, because the criminals led the way, their route was escaping any patrols.

"Were you surprised, Yahiko?" Himura asked.

"Sort of, but I'm not scared of you. It just explains why you're so strong." Yahiko shrugged.

The redhead then glanced at Koshijiro, who was bringing up the rear. Neither of them spoke first, and after a few seconds, Himura lowered his head and looked away.

Kaoru had sensed the tension and slowed her pace. "I guess you know now, Otou-san, but listen to me. Kenshin is Kenshin, it doesn't matter who he was. Please don't be mad at him."

He pressed his mouth into a thin line. "For now, let's worry only about this fight."

To his disappointment, they reached the river without any interference from the police. Himura and the street fighter stood apart from the rest, facing each other on the grass.

As the street fighter unwrapped his weapon, he introduced himself. "I'm Sagara Sanosuke, but the underground knows me better as Sanosuke with the zanbatou, or Zanza for short." The spear wasn't a spear after all. Koshijiro looked warily at the hefty horse-killing sword, while Himura drew his reverse blade.

Zanza made the first strike, and clumps of dirt flew through the air. But Himura had speed. Koshijiro needed effort, to track Himura's movements, and the man still had enough power to knock Zanza to the ground. There was an awed silence, but Zanza managed to recover.

"He has a lot of endurance." Kaoru said. "We might have misjudged how strong he is."

"That's true." Koshijiro agreed. "But Himura has been holding back."

The redhead wasn't even out of breath, and when the second round began, he quickly struck back. Zanza was too slow, his moves easily read by Himura. Koshijiro stared as Himura dealt a series of blows, his sword arcing again and again. If the blade wasn't reversed, Zanza would have been dead.

Himura is not just a good swordsman, he's a remarkable one.

As the street fighter grimaced on the dirt, Himura called out. "Let's stop this fight, this one does not wish to hurt you any further. Accept defeat, please."

For a long moment, it seemed it was the end. Then, Zanza's fingers twitched, and he struggled to get up once more. "Can't lose…for the Sekihoutai…I'm not gonna lose!"

A gunshot ripped the air. Himura flew backwards.

"Kenshin, no!" His daughter's strangled cry unfroze Koshijiro. He charged to Kihei, who apparently had another gun on him. Koshijiro may not have counted Himura as a friend, but shooting at him was unacceptable.

"Huh?" Kihei was visibly startled, but Koshijiro had too much momentum to stop. He tackled the man, pinning down the hand that held the gun. He looked up when Yahiko shouted to Himura. Astonishingly, the bullet had been blocked by the sakabato's guard. The metal crumbled, but Himura was unscathed. Koshijiro exhaled, but his expression tensed again when Kihei shouted to his brother. "Gohei, get the brats! Break their legs if you have to!"

New terror seized Koshijiro, and he twisted his head to see Gohei advancing on his daughter and her student. "Kaoru, Yahiko-kun, run!" He bellowed.

Kaoru was pulling Yahiko back, her eyes wide. In the next instant, the zanbato slammed into Gohei's outstretched arm. Blood gushed, and the man screamed.

Zanza was on his feet again, his eyes manic. "I'm not gonna lose, I can't lose!"

The sky then whirled over Koshijiro; Kihei had thrown him off in the confusion. He bit back a curse and tried to right himself. The little man had the guts to aim at Himura once more, and he even had a second pistol in his clothing.

"Clearly, you are beyond help." Himura had a look of such intense focus, it seemed out of place on him. He dug his sword into the loose dirt, and earth flew into Kihei's eyes. The little man howled and collapsed, his mouth open in pain. He had broken a tooth from the force of his fall.

Koshijiro took the chance to take both pistols, pointing one at Kihei to keep him from escaping. Still, he frowned at the feel of the icy metal. He glanced at Gohei, who was openly crying at his mangled arm, before returning his attention to Kaoru and Yahiko. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, I guess." Yahiko replied, while Kaoru shakily nodded.

"We are."

This was far too risky. And where on earth is the nearest patrol?! I'll talk the police chief's ears off, if we survive this. He couldn't think calmly at all, not when their collective safety had been in danger.

Himura wasn't finished yet either. Zanza was intent on a third round, wildly spinning his weapon. It would be the last time, for Himura moved in a blur and the ancient zanbato split in half. The next blow was to Zanza himself, and the street fighter could barely stand.

"Wait here, while this one fetches a doctor. And the police." Himura added, before turning away.

"Not yet! I haven't lost yet!" Zanza spat more about the fallen Sekihoutai. "I'll die before I lose to you Ishin Shishi scum!"

Koshijiro had expected Himura to keep walking, but he doubled back to punch the street fighter's jaw. Zanza reeled back, stunned, as Himura said. "Did they teach you to kill the Ishin Shishi or to fight for a new era?"

He regained his voice, launching into another rant. "Don't give me that shit! You were greedy, you lied to everyone!"

"You're wrong!" It was Kaoru's voice that rang out. "Kenshin isn't like that, he never cared about power. He chose to protect people, so what do you know about him? You just see him as Hitokiri Battousai, but you're the one who started all of this!"

"That's right!" Yahiko rushed forward, but Himura stopped him from restarting the fight.

"It is true, the new era is not finished. Even after ten years, the weak are still oppressed. But to aid those people, this one carries this blade. This one doesn't know for how long, but it is how this one chooses to make amends to the revolution's victims. Hitokiri Battousai's victims. So you see, this one will continue to fight for the people. What will you do?"

His words must have reached Zanza, for at last, the street fighter fell and did not stand up again.

When the police finally arrived to arrest the Hiruma brothers, Koshijiro went with them to offer his testimony. Zanza had been transported to a different wing for his injuries as well. It was clear that neither brother would be able to make statements, so after his part was complete, Koshijiro returned home. The sunset bathed Tokyo in an orange light, as he quietly stepped past the gate. Himura was there, cleaning his sakabato. Or at least, he was trying to, because Kaoru and Yahiko were pinching the sides of his face.

"That's probably enough to get rid of those scary eyes." Yahiko remarked.

"Mm, that's the rurouni we know." Kaoru's ponytail bounced, as they snapped Himura's cheeks in place.

"Oro…"

Koshijiro coughed, and the three of them met his gaze. "Welcome home, Otou-san." His daughter nervously laughed.

"I'm back." But he did feel better, seeing her and the others safe. The Hiruma brothers were no longer a nuisance, yet that brought him to the next matter. "Himura-san, allow me to be clear with you."

Kaoru interrupted. "Otou-san, don't turn him away-"

"It's alright, Kaoru-dono." He lifted a hand to stop her, glancing at Koshijiro. "Kamiya-dono, what is it that you want to say?"

"…I don't know who Hitokiri Battousai is."

The other man smiled in relief. "Kaoru-dono said the same words to this one, that she only knew and accepted the rurouni. This one now understands where her ideals came from. Thank you, Kamiya-dono."

"No, Himura-san. I meant what I said. I have never heard of a person named Hitokiri Battousai, not once during my time in the army. And instead of hearing your sentiments about my daughter, please tell me in your own words, that this was your past." He scowled. Besides, what gave Himura the right to act so…mushy, when it came to Kaoru? Even now, she was blushing. Yahiko was giving her a rather disgusted expression.

"It's true, all of it." Himura hesitated. "Then, Kamiya-dono, if you wish for this one to leave-"

"I didn't say that. Himura-san, you know I fought in Satsuma, and during the Bakumatsu. I had to fulfill my duty as a soldier, even though I did not like it. I've done things that I'm not proud of, so who am I to judge you? As Kaoru said, it does not matter what your past is." He paused. "With that said, you cannot help that there are people who wish to fight you. That is out of your control. But Kaoru's accepted you, and she wants you to remain. I only ask that no one else be brought into future conflicts."

"Yes, of course. This one does not wish for anyone to be hurt."

Koshijiro cleared his throat. "Furthermore, if there are any more fights, I would appreciate it if they were in the yard or elsewhere. This house isn't nearly old enough to undergo a third round of repairs. That will be all." The conversation ended a little awkwardly, but Kaoru ran up to give him a quick hug.

She beamed at him. "Thank you, Otou-san."

"You know I wouldn't have made him leave."

"Well, you did look mad."

"I suppose so." He conceded; he had been serious, after relating the incident to the police. "Oh, and another thing. This doesn't mean the arm's length rule is abolished. Kaoru, you cannot carelessly touch his face like that."

"Otou-san!" She was indignant. "It was to get him back to normal, and Yahiko helped too!"

"Himura-san is fully capable of restoring his facial features."

"This one isn't quite sure about that…"

"See? Otou-san, stop being so stubborn!"

Kaoru continued to protest and Yahiko joined in about wanting dinner, but they were all home, Himura included. And for that, Koshijiro had nothing to complain about.

Chapter Text

When Koshijiro was a boy in Chiba, there had been a stray dog in the neighborhood. It was especially good at wheedling for scraps, pestering the poor target’s legs until it got what it wanted. Zanza, or rather Sagara now that he had given up fighting for hire, was like that dog. For almost every day now, he lingered around the dojo and sat down with them at lunch.

“Terrible.” He said, in between loud chews. “This is just terrible. Jou-chan, you should work at your cooking instead of teaching.”

Kaoru had grilled fish today, to give Himura a break. She had done her best, and that was enough for Koshijiro to eat. His cooking was worse, anyway. He quietly picked through the white flesh with his chopsticks, and Yahiko gnawed at his portion. But Kaoru was grinding her teeth in irritation.

“Hey, Kenshin.” Sagara looked for support. “How can you stand this?”

“It is not that bad. It tastes differently every time.”

“Well, if you don’t like it, then don’t eat!” Kaoru snapped, throwing a large radish in their direction. “Freeloaders shouldn’t complain anyway!”

Sagara ducked. “I quit fighting, so I’m not making money. Have a heart, Jou-chan.”

Meanwhile, the vegetable had glanced off Himura’s head, and the man groaned. “Oro…”

But before the argument could go any further, they were interrupted, as a familiar figure stepped past the gate. “Forgive the intrusion during your meal, but this is urgent.”

“It’s fine, Chief.” Koshijiro set down his bowl and stood, ignoring everyone’s wide eyes. “Is it about that case?”

The man grimly nodded. “I’m afraid it is, and we require Himura-san’s assistance.”

Shortly after the Hiruma brothers were transported to prison, the police chief had summoned Koshijiro. “I did think on what you said, so I’ve been editing the current rules. I’m going to be more active in overseeing the men, and I changed the patrol routes to increase efficiency. And if it’s no trouble, I’d like you to train the less experienced officers. You can keep them in line, give them tasks they can’t refuse, and deliver consequences as you see fit.” He handed over a roster of fifteen names. “You can take time to think it over.”

“I won’t need it; I accept. I’m grateful to be more involved.”

“No, thank you, Kamiya-san. I’ll adjust your pay, of course. Especially since…” He cleared his throat. “I heard that the Ishin Shishi soldier, Himura Kenshin, is living with you and your daughter.”

Koshijiro blinked in surprise. “That’s true, he is boarding with us. Who did you hear this from?”

“During that incident with the Satsuma policemen, Yamagata-san visited and spoke to Himura-san. It was not long after you returned to Tokyo.”

“Yamagata…Aritomo?” The general of the Kiheitai, the Emperor’s army? Suddenly, Koshijiro recalled the mustached man, walking into the police station when he rejoined the department. “I suppose he knew Himura-san from the Bakumatsu.”

The chief nodded. “Yes, it seemed that way. Are you aware of Himura-san’s work?”

“…yes.”

“Then, you may understand why I’m interested.” He slid over a folder, opening the contents. “There’s a man who poses a great danger to our officials. Internally, we’ve been referring to him as Kurogasa.”

Koshijiro skimmed through the papers. The number of casualties was strikingly high, and the targets appeared to be politicians who were formerly Ishin Shishi. The most recent case was in Shizuoka, almost two months prior. Even the infantry were unable to stand a chance. “And you think Himura-san can defeat this killer?”

“I am seriously considering it. If we need him, I will let you know.”

Now, the police chief sat opposite Himura and informed him of the case. Koshijiro was aware of the details, of how grown men were paralyzed before this serial killer. It seemed unbelievable to read, but the many interviews of the wounded could not be ignored. Koshijiro had wondered if it was some sort of chemical gas, but Himura thought differently.

“That sounds like the Shin no Ippou, of the Nikaidou Heihou style.” He mused. “After the war, someone could have easily lost his way and became drawn to bloodshed. But to remain so, after ten long years…” He trailed off, choosing to drink his tea.

“Kenshin?” Kaoru gently asked. “Are you alright?”

He lifted his head slowly, as if he had just woken up, and he gave her a smile. “Yes, this one is fine.” He then turned to the police chief. “What would you have this one do?”

“If you are able, I would like you to take him down.”

“This one has taken a vow to not kill his opponents.” Himura informed him.

“Even if you cannot, getting him into custody will be enough.” The chief drew a piece of paper from his pocket, and hurriedly scribbled. “Tonight, Tani Juusanrou of the War Ministry will be in Tokyo. He’s already received a death threat from Kurogasa, so we need more people to protect him. Even if you are an outsider, this would be a good opportunity to face this killer, once and for all. Here are the details. I hope to see you tonight, and Kamiya-san, we’ll meet again at work.” The chief handed over the note, bowed deeply, and departed.

The mood was decidedly somber for the rest of the day. Sagara left to wherever his latest whim took him, while Kaoru continued to teach Yahiko. With his work finished, Koshijiro sat against the wall of the dojo and watched them practice one of the basic kata. The boy was progressing rapidly; if he was in a class, he would easily rank among the top five students.

“By the way, where’s Kenshin?” Yahiko asked.

Kaoru noted that he should mind his steps, before replying. “He mentioned that he was taking a walk. He’ll be back before dinner.”

“I hope so. We’ll probably die, if you cook again, ugly…ow!”

She had tapped his shoulder with her shinai, and she sweetly admonished him. “You have to concentrate, Yahiko-chan.”

“And demonstrate proper respect for your teacher. I heard you insult her once before, but twice is more than enough.” Koshijiro was irked, and he struggled to stand to his full height. Last time, he had entered the conversation too late, and Yahiko was injured. Now, there were no excuses left.

Yahiko did have some remaining self-preservation, because he gulped. “Er, I’m sorry?”

“I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

He pivoted to Kaoru and managed to sound contrite. “I’m sorry.”

“Geez, you listen to Otou-san, but not to me.” She ruffled his hair, ignoring how he grumbled. “Well, he’s better at disciplining, but we’re stuck with each other. Let’s practice the kata one more time, okay?”

About halfway through the kata, Himura returned. He was quieter than usual, and Koshijiro had intended to leave him alone. However, the man suddenly spoke, his gaze on the wall. “The sword that protects life. What made you think of the idea, Kamiya-dono?”

“It took some time to develop the concept.” He admitted. “Strength has value, but only when there is a reason for it. Take Kurogasa, for example. He may have been skilled once, but now, he is irrational and cruel. As for me, I grew tired of fighting, just to hold on to what I held dear. But this world is still violent, so I cannot lay down my sword. And yet, I have faith in this era, which promises peace without bloodshed. So, Kamiya Kasshin is a compromise, to channel necessary strength and remember why we fight. ‘The sword that protects life’ is a motto for the present and a wish for the future. But you would have heard Kaoru’s interpretation, so why do you ask?”

“This one is only curious.” He innocently blinked, but his tone grew serious. “Then, if a person had to kill to protect others, what is Kamiya Kasshin’s solution?”

“That is the flaw in my logic.” Koshijiro grimaced. “As a soldier and as a police officer, I had to think of the greater good. I cannot give you an answer, and for that, I am sorry.”

“No, it’s alright.” Himura paused. “This one has idled long enough, so this one will prepare dinner.”

After the sun dipped just below the horizon, they ate their meal in silence. At length, Yahiko asked. “Are you going, Kenshin?”

“Yes, it is best to help out the police. And this one is acquainted with Tani-dono. With luck, he may remember this one.”

Kaoru’s forehead creased with worry, and then out of irritation when they heard Sagara’s holler from the gate. She stood with a scowl. “Geez, he might as well live here.”

However, the former fighter’s rowdy presence lightened the atmosphere. He shared stories about the friends he played dice with, and although they bordered on inappropriate, the distraction was welcome. At last, the police carriage arrived and they saw Himura off.

“If it truly is the Shin no Ippou, this may prove to be difficult.”

“You mentioned that earlier. Do you know who this Kurogasa is?” Koshijiro inquired.

“Perhaps, but that was only a rumor.” He answered. “Regardless, this one will find out tonight.”

“Me too.” Sagara stepped forward, clapping Himura’s back. “This is too interesting to miss, so I’m tagging along.”

“Good night.” Yahiko yawned; it was about his bedtime.

Kaoru stepped forward. “I’ll have the bath ready, when you return.”

“Thank you, Kaoru-dono.” Himura looked to her, before smiling at everyone. “We’ll see you all in the morning.” Then, he and Sagara walked into the darkness.

Koshijiro woke, in a cold sweat. It took him a few seconds, to realize that he only had a dream. A nightmare. In Satsuma, his feverish mind had conjured scenes of how his life could have ended. A grenade landing at his feet. A sword running through his flesh. A gun barrel pressed to his temple. And the aftermath of bleeding into the ground and thinking that he did not want to die. This time, it was of the explosion, if he had been standing more to the left. As he forced his breathing to slow down, silence rang in his ears.

Since he had returned home, his sleep had been empty of any memories of the battlefield. It seemed that was only temporary. He slid out of his futon, intending to walk off the agitation. He used to practice in the dojo, but with only one arm, he could not properly hold a shinai. Instead, he settled in his usual spot on the porch. The wind was cold, but that meant it was real.

“Otou-san? You’re awake?” Kaoru’s voice floated over, and he looked behind him, to see her rubbing her eyes.

He decided not to tell her about his nightmare; she would only be concerned. “If there’s a killer on the loose, someone has to protect the house.”

“We’re not that important to be targeted by a serial killer.” She countered, moving to sit beside him. “But I couldn’t sleep either. I don’t know why, I shouldn’t be worried. Kenshin can handle himself, and Sanosuke is with him.”

“Yes, that is true.”

For a while, there was only the sound of the wind.

“The moon’s full.” She commented. “Once, I saw Okaa-san sitting out here with you, on a night like this.”

“Ah, that was when she wanted to see the cherry blossoms in the moonlight. You remember something like that?”

“Mm-hmm. Because Okaa-san’s face was so happy.”

“Your mother always was, over little things like buying ribbons for you.”

“And she liked tying them for me. She liked indigo best; it’s why that one’s my favorite.” She yawned again.

“You should go back to sleep.” He gruffly said.

“Yeah, I will. I have to get up early, so I can fill the bathtub. Good night.”

After some time, he returned to his room. He did fall asleep again, but this time, he envisioned Kyoko, smiling over a cradle and saying how an indigo ribbon was so charming.

The next morning, Koshijiro noticed that Himura and Sagara had not returned. Breakfast was on the table, most likely because of his daughter. She wasn’t there though, and he glanced outside. Kaoru had dozed off on the porch, her mouth slack. With a fond smile, Koshijiro fetched a blanket to cover her.

He ate breakfast with Yahiko, who had noticed his sleeping instructor. “I should wake her up with cold water.”

“Leave her be. You can practice on your own for the morning.”

The boy perked up. “Okay!”

Then, Koshijiro started on his paperwork. He was a quarter of the way through, when he heard voices.

“I don’t think she slept at all, last night.” Yahiko was saying.

“Oh, yeah? Hey, Jou-chan, wake up. Wake up!”

Koshijiro walked out to see his daughter whacking the two boys with her shinai. She was not amused and ground out. “Welcome back. Huh? Where’s Kenshin?”

“He’s not coming back.” Sagara said. “This time, Kurogasa, or rather Jin-e, is after him. He didn’t want to put everyone else in danger, so he’s not coming back for a while. He wants me to look out for you.”

“But where did he go?” Kaoru pleaded.

“The riverbank, I guess. Hey, where are you going?”

She was headed for the gate. “I’m looking for Kenshin!”

“Well, that’s dumb. Look, I got injured because of Jin-e!” He pointed to his right arm, which was in a sling. “If you just wait here, it’ll be better that way.”

Kaoru spun around, tears welling in her gaze. “So after he fights Jin-e, is he going to wander again? And we’ll never see him again, just like that?” Her fists clenched, and she swallowed. “Okaa-san is dead, and Otou-san was almost taken from me too. Most of the students quit, and Kihei turned out to be a traitor. If that’s how it is, I’d rather meet the danger face to face!”

“Kaoru, you should stay here.” Koshijiro spoke up, feeling alarmed. “You’re behaving recklessly.” And if Himura wanted to leave for good, no one had the right to stop him. But he refrained from saying that; it would only make his daughter angrier and the best option was to calm her down.

Sagara’s interjection shattered that plan. “You’ll only get in Kenshin’s way.”

She crossed her arms. “I won’t be there for long. It’s not as if he’ll be busy, he’s definitely not fishing at the river.”

“What does fishing have to do with any of this?” Yahiko complained, but Koshijiro stiffened. That jab was meant for him.

Unfortunately, Sagara also noticed. “Oh, I get it. You have a story to tell us, old man?”

“Otou-san, you can tell them. I’ll be back!” And with that, she ran past the gate, her indigo ribbon flying.

“There’s nothing to say about that.” Koshijiro evaded. Well, if his daughter tired herself out, she would come home.

“Aw, come on, it’s obviously juicy.” Sagara was reluctant to let it go, but he jerked his head in the direction of the gate. “Jou-chan’s selfish, she can’t stand being separated from Kenshin. Oh, well, that’s how love is, so there’s nothing you can do.”

“You should not draw conclusions, particularly when it comes to matters of the heart.” Still, Koshijiro was disgruntled. He grudgingly knew that Kaoru was infatuated with Himura, ever since that attempted punch during the first meeting. But hearing someone else call it love didn’t settle right with him. Kaoru was still young, after all.

“Sure, old man.” He scoffed and turned to Yahiko. “You don’t mind being left alone?”

“No, Kenshin’s the strongest in Japan, so why worry?”

“Good point. Well, Jou-chan will probably bring him back. I’ll take that bath and then a nap.” He gave a jaunty wave with his good hand. “Wake me up for lunch.”

Yahiko did so, when the hour came. Koshijiro sat with them, eyeing the clock. Kaoru had not returned yet. What if she was still looking for Himura? Or worse, what if she had found him and they were alone?

Himura had better behave. Koshijiro’s chopsticks clicked together in his irritation, and he ate faster. Maybe, I’ll go to the riverbank myself.

However, that proved to be unnecessary. After the dishes were cleared, Himura shuffled past the gate, his bangs hiding his eyes.

“Kenshin!” Yahiko called out, running to greet him. Sagara followed suit, with Koshijiro behind.

“Aren’t you supposed to be waiting at the river, for Jin-e?” Sagara raised his eyebrows.

“Jin-e has kidnapped Kaoru-dono.”

“What?!” There was an echo, and then silence. Koshijiro had raised his voice. Sagara and Yahiko had flinched, but Himura didn’t react, his head lowered in submission. Koshijiro counted to three, before quietly ordering. “Himura-san, explain what happened this instant.”

“Kaoru-dono met this one at the river. She gave this one her ribbon, and then…” He clenched the indigo cloth in his hand, and Koshijiro’s eyes were helplessly drawn to his daughter’s possession. Then, Himura looked up. His expression was intimidating, as it had been before fighting Sagara, but this was more severe. It was as if cold fire burned in his gaze. “It was my fault. Jin-e wants to meet at midnight. I’m going to the forest, do not follow me. In return, I promise that I will bring her back.”

“You must bring her back.” Koshijiro corrected, and he forced himself to add. “Then, I have no choice but to count on you.”

Himura nodded.

I’m sorry, I should have stopped her. Koshijiro thought, as if that made any difference. He sat before Kyoko’s portrait, gripping his knee. As the day passed, he had only grown more anxious. Even though Himura would battle Jin-e at midnight, that caused more agony for the ones who were waiting.

Yahiko had repeated. “Kenshin’s the strongest, so he’ll save her.” Sagara had paced back and forth, before taking off somewhere.

And Koshijiro knelt at the altar, praying that his daughter was safe. Kyoko would not have forgiven him for putting their daughter in danger. He didn’t expect to forgive himself either. Jin-e was a serial killer who paralyzed his enemies to death. What if he decided Kaoru was no longer useful as a hostage? If only he had both of his arms, he could have gone with Himura. But he didn’t, and he had to trust that Himura would win. He would most likely kill Jin-e, yet Koshijiro could not bring himself to protest the idea.

If it is a last resort, it is justifiable. Is that a betrayal of Kamiya Kasshin? It would be, but Kaoru’s life is more important than the school. I suppose, I truly was not fit to answer Himura’s question of killing to protect people.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sagara’s return. He was slightly out of breath; he must have ran. “Still waiting, huh. I’m curious, who’s that picture of?”

“Kaoru’s mother.”

“Jou-chan takes after her, huh?”

“Yes, she does.”

“…Kenshin will get her back. Don’t worry, old man.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “So long as Jin-e doesn’t use his mind trick again.”

“And what is that, exactly?” He tightly asked.

Sagara stepped back. “Uh, it’s not that big of a deal. Just felt like I couldn’t breathe for a second, but I snapped out of it. A strong will is enough, apparently.”

“I see.” That was probably the Shin no Ippou, that Himura had mentioned. Koshijiro furrowed his brow. “Are you implying Kaoru does not have a strong will?”

“Whoa, hang on, old man.” He suddenly looked sweaty. “It’s just that, well, out of all the people last night, only Kenshin and I broke out of the Shin no Ippou. Even the policemen couldn’t manage it.”

“I believe you. But she had the will to stay here, while I was gone. She didn’t complain, no matter how lonely she must have been.” Ah. He wanted to groan. Over and over, his daughter had been left behind, to be alone. And for once, she had declared that she could no longer stand it. “And so, she went after Himura.”

“There you go.” Sagara said. “Anyway, I’m beat, so I’m taking the spare room.”

Then, it was quiet until Yahiko popped his head in. “I can’t stay up until midnight. Tell me when they get back, Kamiya-san.”

“You should rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah, so should you. Kenshin’s strong enough to defeat Jin-e. And Kaoru isn’t much of a girl, but she’s stubborn so that’s something.”

“She might not appreciate hearing that.”

“Whatever.” The boy shrugged. “Good night.”

The remaining hours were a blur. Koshijiro could not sleep, and restlessness took him to the porch again. He dozed in fits, waking frequently. Before he knew it, the sun was rising, and with it, two silhouettes passed the gate.

“Otou-san, we’re home!”

He exhaled, and his joints protested as he stood. “Welcome home.” Himura’s shoulder was bloody, but Kaoru was unharmed. “Thank you, Himura-san.”

He smiled. “This one only kept his promise.” They entered the house, and Sagara and Yahiko were barely awake. They were attempting to make breakfast, and the fish was burning.

“Geez, you two are making trouble per usual.” Kaoru rolled up her sleeves. “Look, here’s how it’s done.”

“Oh, you’re back.” Yahiko muttered, but there was a note of relief in his voice.

Sagara gave a lopsided grin. “Glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, I’m glad. But you two got some sleep, so keep cooking.” She instructed them, as if she had only been away at a friend’s and not kidnapped.

“She doesn’t seem troubled by what happened.” Koshijiro noticed. “What became of Jin-e?”

“He killed himself.” Himura quietly said.

“Then, you didn’t.”

“No. This one’s question from yesterday was answered by Kaoru-dono.”

If a person had to kill to protect others, what is Kamiya Kasshin’s solution?

“I see. And what is that answer?”

“It is not to give in to killing, even when it is tempting to. It is to remember that life should be protected.”

It was an ambitious and innocent answer, and only his daughter could have come up with it. It was just as fitting, for the ambitious and innocent era to which she belonged. “It is a good answer, as expected of the master.”

Kaoru had been listening, and she beamed. “Thank you, Otou-san.”

Sagara stepped over, throwing an arm over Himura. “By the way, you didn’t come back until now, huh? Nice, did you do it with her?”

Koshijiro made an excruciating turn towards them.

“We didn’t do anything!” Kaoru lunged at Sagara, and he dodged her. Meanwhile, Koshijiro left, heading down the hallway. He emerged with Himura’s bedding, and the man tilted his head.

“Oro? Is there a problem with this one’s futon?”

“No, you’re sleeping in the shed tonight.”

“Oro!”

Sagara and Yahiko howled with laughter, and Kaoru’s face was red. “Otou-san!”

“After he sees Dr. Gensai for his wound.” It was the least he could do, for the man who had brought his daughter home.

Chapter Text

The following morning, Koshijiro was prepared to train the newest officers. He had ideas about how to assign them, but that would depend on their individual personalities and work ethics. He was about to depart for the police station, when his daughter came up to him.

“Otou-san, have you seen Kenshin?”

“I did not.” Breakfast had been on the table, but there was no other sign of the redhead.

“Hmm.” Her brow furrowed, and she turned on her heel, walking further into the house.

Yahiko was of more help, calling out from the yard. “Sano stopped by, he said they were going out.” At Kaoru’s dubiousness, he added. “I wouldn’t lie. If you worry this much, get Kenshin on a leash.”

She flushed. “You little brat! That’s just…ew!”

“You didn’t have to take me seriously!”

Koshijiro sternly interrupted the exchange. “The both of you should start lessons. Himura and Sagara will be fine wherever they are.”

“It’s the Shuueiya.” Yahiko informed Kaoru. “A gambling hall.”

“G-gambling hall?! Geez, they had better not lose everything.” Despite her disgruntled tone, her expression had relaxed from before. “Otou-san, do you need a bento box?”

“No, I will be in town for most of the day. I’ll be back before dinner.” He said goodbye and saw them wave as he left.

When he entered the department’s large meeting room, the chief introduced him to the group of fifteen officers. “This is former officer Kamiya-san. He recently returned from Satsuma, but he’s been with us for over ten years. He will be in charge of your training from now on.”

Fifteen pairs of eyes stared at his trailing sleeve.

“Yes, I lost my arm in battle.” Koshijiro directly addressed the matter, hoping their curiosity was satisfied. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, because they began to chatter amongst themselves. He loudly cleared his throat, and they remembered to be quiet.

Soon, he realized the group only needed to be motivated properly. They slacked off on patrols because they were bored, and it was difficult to keep their attention. When he started to lecture about the new patrol routes, they were still distracted by the novelty of his missing arm. Well, except for Kosaburo. He remained attentive the entire time, politely raising his hand when he had a question. He showed the most promise, despite his inexperience.

It was still early when Koshijiro finished lecturing, so he divided them into groups of three and assigned each a route. The young men were well-behaved as they practiced patrolling, but he would have to observe them later, when they thought he wasn’t looking. It was close to evening when he finished checking their paperwork, and handed over their next assignments.

He walked through the streets of Tokyo, alone. It had been a little over a month since his return, and already, much had changed. His daughter was the master of Kamiya Kasshin. An Ishin Shishi veteran and ex-assassin was now handling the household chores. The sole student had once been a pickpocket and their most frequent visitor was a former street fighter. In the old days, all of this would have been frowned upon. But Koshijiro did not care for the past. Now, every day was high-spirited and cheerful. Even with unexpected events, the house was a great deal livelier. He preferred it.

As if fate had read his mind, another surprise awaited him at home. Everyone was in the yard, and ignoring Himura’s spread-eagled body on the ground, he immediately singled out the one unfamiliar person, a young woman with long hair and a red-lipped smile. She wasn’t a friend of Kaoru, judging by how his daughter leveled a firm look at her.

“Takani-san, was it? I’m very sorry, but you can go home. These two idiots might have won you in gambling, but you’re free now.”

Takani didn’t budge. “Oh, I don’t want to. I like this man, you see.” She knelt, helping the half-beaten Himura to a sitting position. She tilted her head close, intimately. “I don’t want to leave his side for a second. And I’m better company than that sweaty girl, aren’t I, Ken-san?”

Himura only gave a dazed moan of ‘oro’, while Kaoru spluttered. “S-stop that!”

“What’s the matter? It doesn’t look like you’re his lover, so you don’t have a say in what he does.”

“Come on, don’t tease her so much, she’s naïve.” Sagara’s input was the last straw.

His daughter was seething in frustration, and Koshijiro stepped in. “Kaoru, you and Yahiko should change out of your uniforms. It’s getting late.” The boy was eager to acquiesce, but Kaoru flashed a glare at the other three.

“If you’d rather not stay at the house of a naïve, sweaty girl, then you can just go!”

Well, Koshijiro hadn’t been happy with how they had picked on her, but losing her temper was too far. “Kaoru!” He scolded, but she ran inside.

“Oh, it’s alright. Girls at that age can be quite testy.” Takani gave a lofty laugh, as if she were a worldly lady, instead of a girl barely older than Kaoru.

Koshijiro turned to them, and Takani stiffened. He then looked to Sagara. “Is it true about the gambling?”

“Er…yeah?” He scratched his head. “Sorry, old man, but we’d like her to stay close.” His tone wasn’t very lighthearted, foreboding rather. He was hiding something, Koshijiro was sure of it.

“Perhaps it’s best for all of you to be elsewhere, until Kaoru calms down. Takani-san, I am Kamiya Koshijiro, Kaoru’s father. You’re welcome to stay for the night, but you should know that my daughter is your hostess and she should be treated accordingly.”

“…yes.” For a moment, it was like she was hiding behind a shield, backing off to protect herself. Her smile was tight. “I’ll be a model guest.”

Koshijiro gave a stern lecture, while dinner was being prepared. “Even if you don’t like Takani-san, that is no excuse for bad manners.”

Kaoru had been slicing tofu and now, she brought the knife down heavily on the cutting board. “I was polite! It was Takani-san who was rude first. Why isn’t she hearing this?”

“I do not care who started it, only that you behaved poorly and we must remedy that.” Also, he was honestly at a loss for how to deal with someone like Takani. Or this entire tug-of-war over Himura.

Meanwhile, Yahiko was listening nonchalantly. “Yeah, you were overreacting. Get a grip, moody hag.”

“That’s enough from you, young man.”

“Sorry.” He clammed up.

“But he is correct in that you overreacted. You need to be more mature, in control of your temper. The minute you lose restraint, your efforts will be for nothing. You must be clearheaded and calm, especially with those who are difficult. If you are not, they will get what they want.”

“Fine. I understand, Otou-san.” Kaoru said shortly, and it was silent, except for the thud of the knife in her hand. “Ah, then again. You tried to punch Kenshin when you first met him.”

Of course, that would be brought up! But he supposed he deserved it. His own temper was a work in progress, forty-six years in the making.

Yahiko’s eyes widened. “What?”

“It was a misunderstanding. I apologized later that day, as you should, Kaoru.”

“I know, I will.” She griped, but she sounded more contrite.

An hour later, Sagara and Himura returned. Takani was with them, but she looked rattled, her eyes darting around the room. She didn’t sit down until Himura urged her to.

Kaoru was remorseful, as she set the table. “I’m sorry for snapping. It’s been a long day.”

Himura shook his head. “No, we shouldn’t have brought a guest without asking you beforehand. That was presumptuous of us.” He smiled at her, and she tentatively returned the expression.

“Good, so all’s forgiven.” Sagara grinned. “Let’s eat.”

Dinner was mostly civil, although Sagara and Yahiko’s etiquette needed polishing. Twice, Koshijiro reminded them to stop talking with their mouths full. Kaoru related the day’s events to Himura, and while he was listening to her, Koshijiro noticed his shoulders were tense. He’d have to find out what matter Takani brought to their doorstep.

“Would you like more tea, Takani-san?” He politely asked.

“Oh, no, thank you. And I’d rather not trouble you.” Her gaze was on his missing arm. “Is that recent?”

“From Satsuma.”

“Ah, so you were wounded there.” She was more alert. “Any pain or tenderness?”

“I have occasional phantom pains, but my physician has already given medicine. Aspirin, I believe.”

“No opium.” There was a note of relief in her voice.

“Dr. Oguni doesn’t trust it.”

“That’s good.” She pressed her lips together. “Well, if you feel ill, I have no qualms about hearing your concerns.” Then, she turned her attention to Himura, and the chance to question her was lost amidst her flirtations and Kaoru’s barely restrained apprehension.

After dinner, the stark jolts of pain had also returned, forcing him to excuse himself to his bedroom. He closed his eyes, focusing on breathing and slowly emptying his mind.

“Hey, old man! Your daughter’s peeping!” Sagara’s voice broke him out of meditation. Heaving a sigh, Koshijiro rose and peered out through the window into the yard.

“I wasn’t!” Kaoru said vehemently, releasing her grip on Sagara’s collar. “I was…checking in on Kenshin and Takani-san. They haven’t come out yet.” Supposedly, they were having a ‘discussion’ in one of the rooms.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Sagara reassured her. “He might be strong, but Kenshin’s just weak when it comes to women and children.”

“And what about you?” She countered.

His eyes darkened. “I couldn’t care less about that vixen!” It was a strangely intense reaction.

“If there’s something we deserve to know,” Koshijiro cleared his throat and stepped out. “It’d be wise to share it.”

At that moment, Himura joined them. “It’s a sensitive matter, Kamiya-dono. This one can only say that it there may be a serious incident.” He handed a slip of paper to Sagara, who unfolded it. “In this case, the fewer people involved, the better.”

Koshijiro raised his eyebrows. “It’s a matter too sensitive for the police?”

He gave that harmless smile. “Yes, for now.”

It wasn’t a very satisfactory answer, but Kaoru relented a little. “Alright. When it’s over, we’d like an explanation.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, a cackle floated up from the floorboards. Koshijiro frowned, as Yahiko squirmed out from underneath the porch. “I heard everything! It’s not fair, I want in on this!”

“No way, you’re just a kid.” Sagara dismissed him.

“W-well, you’re just a Sanosuke!” Yahiko attempted a retort and a flying kick, which was easily blocked. 

While the others laughed, Koshijiro caught Takani’s profile, from within the house. She was looking at them, her expression inexplicably melancholy. It was odd, for the spring night was pleasant enough.

At least, until the gate blew open. Concrete and wooden splinters soared through the air.

“They’re here!” Takani’s voice was panicked.

Beyond Himura and Sagara, Koshijiro spotted a hulking shadow that had taken the place of the gate. It was a large man, who could have been a sumo wrestler in another life. He pushed aside pieces of the crumbling wall, as he ordered. “Megumi. Hand her over. I’m Hyottoko of the Oniwanbanshuu, and I might not hurt anyone else if you do what I say now.”

Tense silence followed. Koshijiro drew Kaoru and Yahiko behind him.

Hyottoko scoffed. “Well, a fight it is then. Who’s first? Either, both, it doesn’t matter.”

“Me!” Sagara roared and rushed forward. “I’ll make you talk about the opium!”

Opium? Koshijiro glanced at Takani, who was paler. A sensitive matter, the appearance of a former spy, the secrecy, her interest in physiology. She was likely a manufacturer of the drug, probably escaped from whoever handled her.

Sagara had landed a punch, but Hyottoko didn’t budge. He clicked his teeth, and in the next instant, there was blazing heat. The flames were brief, yet they blackened the grass and Sagara had to throw off his singed coat. He had been lucky, only his leg had taken the most damage.

“That’s our fire man!” There was a distant laugh. “Oil in his gut and flint in his teeth. Nothing he can’t burn!”

“Leave, Beshimi.” Hyottoko snapped, and at the base of his tongue, a drip was visible. Did that connect to where the oil was held?

“Don’t look away. I’m your opponent.” Himura called out, holding the sakabato before him.

“After I’m finished with this one, you’re next, no hurry.”

“That’s true, you can take your time with your sideshow act. It won’t touch a hair.” Himura’s goading worked, for the man was enraged enough to direct the next blast of flames toward him. But Himura wasn’t even singed, as he rapidly spun his sword.

“Oh, he’s using the wind to make a shield!” Yahiko crowed, and Koshijiro pulled him back.

“Go inside and wait there.”

“As if I could! I’m part of Kenshin’s company!”

Exasperated, Koshijiro turned to his daughter, only to see that she wasn’t there. Neither was Takani, but they hadn’t gone far.

“Going somewhere? You could at least watch those who are fighting for your sake.” Kaoru was stopping Takani, who appeared to be trying to slip out.

“Beshimi might be a different story, but Hyottoko is more typical of the Oniwabanshuu. He can’t be beaten by a regular swordsman.”

“Kenshin will win.” She said with certainty. “Because he’s not a regular swordsman.”

Indeed, Himura’s deflection had stalled the attack. Hyottoko had run out of oil, and the flames sputtered out. Then, he suddenly began to pound his stomach.

“He’s trying to refill the oil!” Kaoru realized.

“You’ll have to remove the bag in his stomach!” Koshijiro added. The height of battle could be blamed for that outburst.

However, Sagara walked up, insisting. “Thanks, Kenshin, but I’ll take care of him this time!”

“Your leg’s hurt.” Kaoru protested, but Himura retreated.

“Go ahead, Sanosuke.”

Hyottoko had also recovered, and he aimed directly at Sagara. Within the fire, Sagara’s shadow leapt. He reached into the other man’s mouth and dragged out the oil sack. His arms were covered in burns, but his good leg landed a roundhouse kick into Hyottoko’s jaw, landing the former spy.

“They’re strong.” Takani had found her voice again. “Himura and Sagara.”

“They are, and I can count on them as friends. I’m proud of them.” Kaoru beamed and headed toward them. “Are you two okay? Geez, you really are hurt.”

Exhaustion set in as the adrenaline crashed, and Koshijiro sat on the porch with a sigh. “Yes, they barely managed to win.”

“It seems like that, doesn’t it?” Himura grinned, but the revelry was cut short as he whirled around. “Beshimi is still here!”

A second ninja emerged from the trees over the wall, his face ghastly in the moonlight. This one was more the type, with cunning, angular features and short stature. He snapped his wrist, and something whistled straight towards Takani. But it never hit her.

“Watch out!” Yahiko jumped, a dart landing in the back of his hand. It would have been in Takani’s heart, otherwise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kaoru ran to him, helping him up from the ground. “What if it was in your heart? This isn’t a game, so stay back!”

“We’re all protecting her, aren’t we? I said I’m part of Kenshin’s company! Have a little…faith…in…” His words began to slur, and he collapsed once more.

Poison. Dread filled Koshijiro and he hurried over as well.

Beshimi was still talking. “That’s what happens when you get involved in other people’s business! He’ll have an hour at most. You’re next, by the way-huh?” His target had been Himura, who had vanished before him. A moment later, Himura landed his ambush, striking the sakabato down on Beshimi’s head.

However, the falling poisoner’s body didn’t touch the ground. It had happened quickly, but another ninja had been present and dashed to catch his comrade. The man, wearing a Hann’ya mask, held up his hand in surrender. “We’re retreating.”

“We won’t stop you from leaving.” Himura answered. “But give us the poison’s antidote.”

“Why should we? You’re the enemy.”

Himura attacked, but the Hann’ya man stopped the blade with his gloved fist. With the other, he struck Himura, who dug his scabbard into the other man’s liver. As the Hann’ya man stumbled backwards, Himura fell to the grass and Koshijiro moved to stand near him. There was no chance to win against this ninja now, but regardless, he looked for an opening. Anything, to obtain an antidote.

But there was none, and the Hann’ya man only said. “This battle isn’t over. As long as you house Takani Megumi, we’ll be back.” With that, he quickly extricated himself, Hyottoko, and Beshimi. They seemed to melt into the darkness.

“Yahiko! Yahiko!” Kaoru and Sagara were shouting, slapping the boy’s face to keep him awake.

Koshijiro offered his hand to the grimacing Himura, helping him up. He was rather light, but his grip was still strong. As they ran over, Koshijiro inquired. “Himura, do you know what we can do?”

“This one only has experience with broken bones and sword wounds. Should we suck the poison out of the wound?”

Kaoru was prepared to, but Takani grabbed her hand. “You’ll only infect the wound. This isn’t a job for amateurs.” She knelt, fluidly taking Yahiko’s pulse and opening his eyelids. “It’s jimsonweed. Kamiya-san, help me elevate his body with pillows. You mentioned your physician Dr. Oguni. I’ll write a prescription, Kaoru can get it from him. Ken-san, I need boiled water and washcloths. And you buy ice.” She told Sagara, before turning her focused gaze on all of them. “This is a race against time. Go!”

By the time Dr. Gensai arrived, most of the debris in the yard had been cleared. Koshijiro waited outside, keeping watch in case anyone else would ambush them in this uncertain situation. But no one did, and Dr. Gensai beckoned him inside, to join his daughter and Sagara. Among the pillows on the floor, Yahiko was asleep, his forehead damp but his breathing even.

Dr. Gensai explained. “The boy will be alright in a few days. Who wrote the prescription? It was perfect, they must have studied at a Western university.”

There was a moment’s pause before Sagara gave her up. “A woman named Takani.”

“Takani? From Aizu?”

Now that Koshijiro thought about it, her accent had a trace of the mainland’s northern provinces. “Do you know her?”

“Not personally. The Takani clan is famous for being physicians, men and women alike. I heard that the last head of the family, Takani Ryuusei, sent his children to one of the new Western institutes in Nagasaki. He was courageous enough to leave his province. Then, Aizu fell; the two of you were probably too young to remember, but you do, Koshijiro.”

He nodded once. He hadn’t been part of the subjugating forces sent by the government, but he and Kyoko had mourned how many had died in the rebellion. “And I’m sure the Takani family had plenty of work on their hands.”

“They did. Takani Ryuusei died on the battlefield, his wife and sons went missing in a fire. But I heard his daughter was in Tokyo, although the doctor she worked for had an ill reputation. He was murdered by gangsters, and no one had seen her since.” Takani-san must have been that daughter, but how had she come to manufacture opium, instead of saving lives?

Then, Kaoru stood, saying grudgingly. “I should thank her. Wait, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her since you came here.”

Sagara started. “She couldn’t have escaped again? I’ll check inside.”

“We’ll look outside.” Koshijiro offered, and Kaoru followed him.

The yard was still empty, but there were voices from beyond the destroyed gate. Himura was further along the road, perhaps to stop Takani from leaving again. She was crying, looking more like the lonely young woman she was.

“I just wanted to continue working as a doctor.” She sobbed. Evidently, Himura had also discovered her past. “I thought, if I did, my family would find me. But…it’s been ten years, and nothing. And the doctor here made opium, before Kanryuu came.” She spat out the name. “Now I’m making opium for him instead. I tried to escape, even into death.”

The loss of her family and livelihood had driven her to desperation, yet her suicide attempt had failed. She had been lost for many years, without a true sense of purpose. Koshijiro pitied her, and it seemed his daughter did as well, pensively observing the conversation.

“However, for these three years, you produced the opium at a minimum. Yes, there were victims, but not as many as there could have been. You took on this burden, and now it’s time for you to forgive yourself. And you are alive.” Himura replied. “We will do our best to protect you and after that, you can find your own way to live on. There are many people who you could help, with your expertise. That is the only way you can atone, Takani-dono.”

Kaoru spoke up, relenting. “You saved Yahiko, and we have you to thank. The least we can do is give you a place to stay. Just for now.”

Takani wiped at her eyes, before bowing her head. “Thank you.”

For the moment, it had all ended well and Koshijiro couldn’t complain. A brisk wind blew, and he quietly said. “It’s been a long night. We should all go inside.”

Together, the four of them returned to the warmth of the house. But Sagara did not greet Takani, his expression still guarded.

Chapter Text

The dense, dark red ohagi were carefully arranged on a plate. They also had just the right amount of sweetness, and the red bean flavor came through nicely. Koshijiro took another bite of his.

“This is very good. Thank you, Takani-san.” Beside him, Kaoru and Yahiko eagerly worked through the rest of the sweets.

Across the table, Himura finished off the one in his hand. “Yes, they taste delicious.”

Takani smiled, cheerfully replying. “Ohagi always are, no matter who makes them. Oh, would you like some?” She turned her head, noticing Sagara standing in the door.

“There’s plenty.” Yahiko offered through his mouthful.

“I’d rather have Jou-chan’s cooking than anything made by that opium woman! I’m taking the spare bedroom, wake me up at noon.” He scoffed and turned on his heel. Takani had visibly wilted.

Koshijiro could understand Sagara’s hostility. The police were investigating multiple opium-related deaths, including that of his friend. In the ten days since Takani arrived, Sagara had rarely visited. He was conducting his own inquiries on the streets; the Spider’s Web opium was still being distributed, albeit on a reduced level. It seemed that Takeda Kanryuu was laying low for now.

Koshijiro swallowed the remainder of his ohagi, and gripped the table as he brought himself to his feet. “I’m leaving for the police station. If I find out anything official regarding this situation, I will let you all know.”

“Mmkay, Otou-san.” Kaoru’s reply was muffled.

However, when he arrived, he was waylaid by the police chief. “Kamiya-san, come into my office, I need to speak with you.”

His first thought was that Takani’s presence had been discovered and there would be dire consequences for harboring a fugitive. He stifled it, reminding himself that they had taken precautions to ensure Takani did not leave the house, and that even Sagara was unlikely to betray her. He kept a neutral expression, as he took the armchair opposite the chief.

“Would you like coffee first?” His superior officer had grown fond of the Western drink.

“No, thank you.” He declined, and braced himself.

Slowly, almost agonizingly, the chief drank from his cup before setting it down. “I wanted to delay this, but we’re going to have a personnel change. Is there anyone you’d prefer to send to Shizuoka?”

So, it was an internal matter. Koshijiro masked his relief with a frown. “How many do you need?”

“Only one. A high-ranking officer requested to be in Tokyo next month, but with the opium case, I can’t spare anyone other than a rookie.”

That was reasonable, but he was just getting to know his charges. Despite the amount of progress still needed, they were improving already. “I’ll need time to think, I’m still assessing them.”

“Of course. Come to me when you’ve made a decision.”

After he was dismissed, he left for the training yard, where the new officers were waiting. To his satisfaction, the group of fifteen stood straight and saluted, in perfect form. “Good morning, Kamiya-san!”

He let out a breath and relaxed. “Good morning, let’s get started.”

Yes, he needed time to think.

However, training was the only thing went well, for Koshijiro returned home to a tense standoff in the yard. Sagara was apart from the other three, arms folded ominously and standing to his full height.

“I refuse. You can find Kanryuu’s mansion on your own.”

“Tch, you’re being stubborn!” Yahiko blurted. “Oh, hello, Kamiya-san. Lunch is, er, not ready yet.”

“That isn’t a problem. What’s happening?”

“Megumi’s gone, she left this letter.” He held up a single sheet of paper.

Koshijiro skimmed through the brief contents, in which Takani explained she had decided to quickly depart for Aizu. “This isn’t genuine.”

“No…” Kaoru agreed. “We think she’s been kidnapped by Kanryuu, while she was at the well. But Sano…”

“Why the hell should I help her? Her opium killed my friend, and I’m not as forgiving as you are.”

Tense silence followed, before Himura quietly spoke. “During this past week, did you notice how she looked? She might have had a brave face, but at times, she appeared to be lonely, searching for those she could trust. By staying in the Kamiya dojo, she found that here. Now she needs us, and that is enough of a reason to act.”

That subdued Sagara, and after a moment, he muttered. “The middle of the day is a bad time for an ambush.”

“We can leave at sunset, but no later.”

“Fine. By the way, do you still need this, Kenshin?” He dug out a scrap of paper from his pocket. Koshijiro remembered it as the one Himura wrote, the night Takani arrived.

“No.” He answered, just as a gust of wind blew it out of Sagara’s hand.

Koshijiro caught it, ignoring the young man’s protest as he shook it open. “Thirty yakuza, ten swordsmen, ten infantry, and ten other unidentified men. This doesn’t include the Oniwanbanshuu. And the two of you will fight all of them?”

Himura gave the slightest of nods, and Sagara shrugged. “Sure, that’s the plan.”

“Are you that confident of yourself?”

The promise of a good fight seemed to encourage him, and he grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Koshijiro bluntly replied. “Well, I’m not.” With sixty opponents, they would need backup, but getting the police involved would endanger Takani’s safety…

“And that’s why I’ll help.” Kaoru stepped forward. “I don’t know if I could call her a friend, but Megumi was my guest, and under the dojo’s protection. As the master of Kamiya Kasshin, I’ll honor that commitment.”

“Sure.” Sagara wasn’t taking her seriously. “But this isn’t a sparring match, these are thugs who’ll kill you as soon as look at you. It could take the whole night. We’ll see you in the morning, for breakfast for six.”

That was belittling, and Kaoru was rightfully enraged. “Why, you-! I’m not your maid! Or your mother!” She lunged for him, but Koshijiro stopped her with his arm.

“Wait, Kaoru.”

Her glare was fierce. “Otou-san, let me through so I can beat him into next month.”

“Then, I’ll help instead!” Yahiko volunteered, worming between them. “I owe Megumi for saving my life!”

But Koshijiro grabbed his collar. “No, the three of us will stay. It’s too dangerous.”

This did not please Kaoru. “And I’m on the same level as Yahiko?”

“Both of you had narrow escapes only recently.” He had not forgotten about the recent scare, when she had been the enemy’s hostage.

“Kaoru-dono.” Himura spoke up. During the conversation, he had only been listening, yet with his posture set, as if he had already made up his mind. Evidently, he had not forgotten about Jin-e either. “Perhaps, it would be best for you to wait with Yahiko and Kamiya-dono.”

“And who’ll be there for you? Sano’s still recovering from last week’s burns, and you were injured too. That’s why I should go, who else will watch your backs?”

Yahiko squirmed in Koshijiro’s hold, indignantly adding. “What’s the point of the sword that protects life, if we can’t use it to help someone?”

Again, Kamiya Kasshin was being used to argue against him! He knew Himura and Sagara were capable, but Kaoru was also right. How long would their endurance last against sheer numbers? If his daughter and Yahiko were present, it could make a difference, but who would ensure their safety in the midst of battle?

Koshijiro released him, thinking aloud. “Then, we’ll all go. Himura-san and Sagara-san can focus on rescuing Takani-san, while Kaoru and Yahiko watch them. In turn, I’ll watch the two of you.”

Now, Himura relented. “That could work.”

Sagara shrugged. “Alright then, we’re going for a full assault. Let’s work on strategy…after I grab lunch. I’m starving…” He wandered off, past the gate and down the road.

“There were onigiri, but he doesn’t deserve them right now.” Kaoru huffed. “Well, that’s more for us. Before he comes back, Yahiko, we need to prepare too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” However, there was an excited skip to his step.

“And thank you, Otou-san.” She turned to him, with a bright smile. “For coming up with the best solution.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision.” He said, but his daughter was already entering the house, with Yahiko on her heels. “Especially after what happened, the last time she wanted to follow you.” He added, for Himura, who inclined his head.

“This one knows. It wasn’t easy for this one as well. More than anything, this one also wants her to be safe.” His gaze lingered on the house, too intently for Koshijiro’s liking.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “So, we’ll work together, to ensure all six of us will return unharmed.”

“Of course.” And there was that rurouni smile.

Takeda Kanryuu’s mansion was on the outskirts of town, and for good reason. The property could have easily consisted of three row houses, and the surrounding yard at least three more. In a time when land in Tokyo was so valuable, this was a display of opulence and waste, reflecting the characteristics of the owner. It was filthy money too, for it had been leeched from opium addicts and repaid with death.

“This place always creeps me out.” Sagara muttered and rolled his shoulders, the bones cracking. Despite his lack of a weapon, he and Himura had swiftly dispatched the two guards patrolling the street outside.

Koshijiro glanced at Kaoru and Yahiko, holding their bokken and shinai, respectively. “You two must stay close.” He had his own wooden sword, but he would have to rely on his years of experience, to compensate for his single arm. And failure would be unacceptable.

“Yes, we know.” His daughter stiffly nodded. Her gaze was directed ahead to the mansion.

“The question is whether Sano can keep up.” Yahiko quipped, earning him a shake from the former street fighter.

With a serious look, Himura stopped them from scuffling. He already had one hand resting on his sakabato’s hilt, ready to draw again at a moment’s notice. “We’ll rush them and take them by surprise. Let’s go.”

They ran past the gate. Shadows materialized in the darkness, becoming men loitering in the house’s courtyard. They barely had time to notice the presence of intruders, before Himura and Sagara charged forward. Sagara relied on the strength of his fists, even bowling one man into two more. Himura moved in a dynamic flurry, crouching, turning, dodging, and sliding on the grass. Swordsmen fell around him, like cut bamboo. Perhaps, this was why he didn’t flinch against the possibility of so many opponents, his fighting style was best suited for it. And it was most likely why the Ishin Shishi had employed him, Koshijiro realized.

Kaoru and Yahiko were the second wave of attack, ensuring Takeda’s men stayed down. One was in the midst of raising himself to his knees, and Kaoru soundly disarmed him, striking his hands. He howled as he let go of his sword, and Koshijiro confiscated it, raising the hilt to knock him out. As he did so, Yahiko darted past him, and soon, he was only another shadow.

Then, in the moonlight, metal gun barrels gleamed. But the infantry didn’t have time to fire, before Himura attacked. Like the others, they fell, and Sagara dove into the fray to dismantle the guns. However…

“Yahiko!” Kaoru cried out. “Where are you?”

“I’m here!” He suddenly popped up, from a bush near the groaning infantry leader. They rushed over, Kaoru soundly whacking the enemy’s head and causing him to fall face-down. Yahiko showed off a stolen pistol. “He thought he could fire this, but he underestimated a pickpocket.”

“Yes, that was useful, but next time, don’t stray so far ahead without informing anyone else.” Koshijiro warned.

“Geez, what if you were shot?” Kaoru sighed, but ruffled his hair. “But, I’m glad you took the opportunity to help Kenshin and Sano. That’s what we’re here for.”

“You don’t have to remind me!” Still, he seemed a little more puffed up.

Koshijiro looked over his shoulder, at the strewn bodies scattered across the pavement. He had been keeping count the entire time and reaffirmed the number. The infantry made fifty men in total, so that only left the Oniwabanshuu deeper within the mansion, as well as…

“Takeda Kanryuu.” Himura addressed the open window over the front doors. A thin man, with oiled hair and a pair of eyeglasses, was staring down at them in disbelief. “Give up, and come down with Megumi-dono.”

Takeda flinched, but he recovered, even applauding and laughing. “How wonderful! As expected of Hitokiri Battousai, to take out all fifty of my men just like that!”

“He knows who Kenshin is.” Kaoru whispered.

Sagara replied in the same way. “The Oniwabanshuu must have found out.”

Takeda was still talking. “I like your strength. If you joined the Oniwabanshuu, I’d be free from worry. I’ll pay you as much as fifty men, how about that? Be my bodyguard?”

But it wouldn’t sway Himura. “Are you coming down? Or not?”

“One hundred men, then?” Takeda appeared to be sweating, as Himura took another step in response. “T-two hundred…? Fine, I surrender! I’ll release her, but I need to prepare, so I’ll send her in an hour!”

“Don’t do it, Kenshin!” Yahiko hissed.

“If you come up before then, I’ll send her down piece by piece!”

It was a cowardly move, but Koshijiro acknowledged Takeda had the upper hand. Himura seemed to accept this, yet he tightened his grip on his sword. “One hour!”

“You didn’t have to listen to him.” Sagara scoffed, but Himura shortly replied.

“We can take this time to recover. Be prepared for the next fight.” He turned to Kaoru and Yahiko. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Heh, we caught up with you the whole time.” Yahiko was smug.

Himura didn’t react. “What’s next won’t compare. If Sano and this one fall against the Oniwabanshuu, then run. Kamiya-dono, please retreat with them if you must.”

“I had already planned as much.” He still had his doubts about Himura and Sagara winning against the other infamous spies.

“Thank you.”

The first few minutes were spent on surveillance, to ensure there weren’t any more of Takeda’s men lurking on the property. They didn’t find any, but Koshijiro found plenty of rope in a nearby shed. “We can bind everyone in the yard, so they won’t escape. For good measure, we’ll tie them together, back to back.” It was a tedious task, but enough to pass most of the time.

Sagara paced idly, with Yahiko doing the same, before he quickly tired and stretched out on the grass. Himura stayed apart, keeping watch. A short distance away, Kaoru gazed at him, her brow furrowed, and Koshijiro approached her.

“Good work so far, Kamiya-sensei.”

“Otou-san, that sounds weird, coming from you.” She protested but visibly relaxed. “Kenshin is the one leading anyway.” She glanced at Himura once more.

“You will tense up more, if you keep looking.”

“I can’t help it. Kenshin’s angry and worried. So,” She said, with renewed ferocity. “I’ll make sure he smiles again when we’re all safe and at home! Ah!” She lowered her voice, but it was too late, Himura must have heard. Although he didn’t turn around, his shoulders slackened, almost imperceptibly. Kaoru didn’t notice, but Koshijiro did.

“As long as you keep an arm’s length between the both of you.”

“That rule again.” But she didn’t sound irritated.

After exactly one hour, they stood before the front doors. “Don’t let your guard down.” Yahiko reminded them, earning another hair ruffle, this time from Sagara.

“We don’t need to hear that from you.” He kicked upon the doors, which were unlocked. It made for an overly dramatic entrance, fitting the grandeur of the first floor. But the gilt-edged walls and tile floors were hardly noticed.

The Hann’ya man stood in the middle of the hallway. “Hann’ya, of the Edo Castle’s Oniwabanshuu. I will guard this post, in accordance with the Okashira’s wishes.”

“This one would like to avoid an unnecessary fight. Will you stand down?”

“The Okashira’s commands are absolute.” Hann’ya threw his fists together, and a clang resounded.

“That sounds like gauntlets. No wonder Kenshin fell down when he was hit.” Sagara muttered, as the masked man slid into a familiar stance.

“Kempo.” Kaoru informed Yahiko, who had been puzzled by it. “Such a skill will help in stopping blows, as the gauntlets absorb the shock.”

Koshijiro was paying attention to the man’s arms instead. The combination of red and black was unusual and the stripes even more for a spy, who had to prize discretion. “I’m more curious about those tattoos…”

With complete concentration, Himura held his sword before him. “Then, this one won’t hold back.”

“The same for me.” Hann’ya charged, fist first.

But surprisingly, Himura was thrown off. He was punched, then backhanded, landing on the tiles. Hann’ya posed to strike again, and Himura moved back, retreating.

“Kenshin, what’s wrong?” Kaoru almost stepped towards him, before restraining herself. Sagara didn’t say anything, his expression confused.

Yahiko was harsher. “What are you doing, getting beat up like this? What about reading the next move with Hiten Mitsurugi?”

“This one is. Just now, this one dodged by a small margin. At the last second, it seemed like his arm…became longer.” Himura said, deep in consideration. Then, he adjusted his stance, his feet apart and arms outstretched, with the sakabato pointing straight ahead.

“Sei-gan stance?” Yahiko suggested, but Kaoru corrected him.

“It’s the shin-ken stance, ‘the sword that believes’, for complete defense and quick response. It’s very traditional kenjutsu.”

“You haven’t taught him yet?” Koshijiro asked. He had trained his daughter well, in recognizing the old schools.

“…It’s next on the lesson plan.”

Hann’ya was disappointed. “It’s a coward’s last resort. You could never face the Okashira with that, so I will kill you right here.” He charged again, but this time, Himura dodged and aimed for the forehead. He didn’t miss, and Hann’ya staggered, holding his mask.

“He did it!” Yahiko whooped, and Sagara grinned.

“You figured it out, didn’t you, Kenshin?”

“Yes. Kamiya-dono was right to be curious about the tattoos. They are why this one was hit earlier, the sideways pattern creates an optical illusion.”

“Oh, so things look shorter and fatter than they are, and you misjudged the distance.” His tone was so casual, it was as if he knew the secret the entire time.

“So the sakabato was like a ruler, because you know how long that is!” Yahiko jumped in.

A high-pitched clink interrupted them. Hann’ya let his hands down, letting more fragments of his mask fall to the floor. Now, Koshijiro could understand why he had worn the mask. His face was terribly disfigured, as if he was the victim of an unfortunate accident that had taken his nose and lips. One eye was permanently squinted, his cheekbones sunken in.

“He’s a demon.” Yahiko was frightened, and the others were also shaken.

“It’s a convenient face.” Hann’ya grinned, all his teeth overly sharp. “With it, I can become anyone. It is my usefulness to Aoshi-sama, along with these.” He snapped his wrists, and kagitsume, like three cat claws, unsheathed on each hand. He attacked, stretching a deadly hand towards Himura.

The sakabato flew upwards, catching between two of the long blades. Then, Himura pushed him back, before dealing the finishing blow. His arm was nicked in retaliation, but Hann’ya himself crumpled. “You’re no match…for Aoshi-sama…” He didn’t speak again, and now, they could proceed past him.

“Kenshin, is it a deep cut?” Kaoru fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, preparing to tear it.

Himura shook his head. “No, the bleeding is already stopping. More importantly, Megumi-dono’s waiting for us. Let’s hurry.”

They continued on, and the staircase to the second floor appeared to be unguarded. But that wasn’t the case. Six more men had been waiting, although they appeared to be extremely reluctant. Koshijiro supposed they had been coerced by the Oniwabanshuu, to make up the final ten. Their clothing was shabby, and if they were poor, Takeda’s money would have enticed them. However, even though it was unlikely they had seen bloodshed, they still had the bearing of swordsmen.

Kaoru straightened. “This, I can handle. Kenshin, you and Sano get Megumi!”

“This one will trust you and Yahiko!” He replied, as he and Sagara sprinted their way to the upper floor.

“We’ll leave the small fry to you!” Sagara sounded cocky, but he suddenly stopped. There was a heavy thud.

“Sano?!” Yahiko called out. From what they could see, Sagara was holding something heavy, and his opponent was a heavily muscled man with many scars on his body. Himura had darted past, down the hallway.

“Stop worrying about me, and focus!” At the last word, Sagara threw what was in his grip, and a heavy metal ball bore into the adjacent wall. The Oniwabanshuu’s cronies flinched; they really had never been in a true fight. But that made them suitable targets for a bokken and a shinai.

The noise of Sagara’s match with the next Oniwaban member faded into the background, as the cronies ran forward. The first man received a blow to the head by Kaoru, but the second man drew his blade. In perfect form, Kaoru crouched, crossing her wrists above her head and catching the blade with the backs of her hands. Hadome. She still kept a firm grip on her own bokken, taking the second step to strike. “Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu Succession Technique: Hawatari!” She moved quickly and powerfully; the man struck the floor hard.

How many times had Koshijiro seen her practice the Hadome and Hawatari, against the dojo’s other students? They had complained how often she wanted to beat them, but she insisted she needed to perfect the techniques. She still wasn’t ready, before he left for Satsuma, yet he was glad he was here, to see his daughter perform them now.

Yahiko managed to take down one on his own, scrambling up the man’s back and striking his knees. Kaoru demonstrated the succession techniques with the fourth man, and Yahiko joined her to help with the fifth. The last man tried to retreat, but Koshijiro blocked him. He swung the bokken, moving his left foot forward and grounding himself to that point of contact. There, his balance was corrected, and he hit the man’s temple. He turned cross-eyed for a moment, swaying, then dropping.

“That’s all of them.” Koshijiro reported and nodded at Kaoru. “Those were perfect examples of Hadome and Hawatari.”

“Well, I feel like the master of Kamiya Kasshin now, since I won against opponents with the succession techniques.” She beamed. “And it sounds like Sano’s done, so we should join him.”

To their surprise, Sagara was collapsed on the floor. Yahiko proceeded to slap him. “Sano, are you dead?”

“As if.” He groaned. He had a bad head wound, blood trickling down his face. “Shikijou was strong, it was a good fight.” The muscled man was limp, lying near the stairs. “Kenshin went to fight Shinomori Aoshi, they should be in the ballroom.”

“There’s a ballroom?” Kaoru’s eyes widened. “For dancing?”

“I don’t think they’re dancing in there, but yeah. I don’t know how Kenshin’s doing.”

“We’ll know when we meet up with him.” She firmly said. “Yahiko, let’s help him up.” They each took an arm and supported him so he could stand.

Koshijiro drew out his handkerchief, and pressed it to Sagara’s scalp. Red immediately seeped into the cloth. “We’ll have you see Dr. Gensai after this.”

“Thanks, old man.” His grin was also bloody.

Sudden, rapid gunfire roared through the mansion, and they all froze.

“W-what was that?” Yahiko expressed their collective nervousness.

“It sounds like it came from the ballroom.” That voice did not belong to any one of them, and they were startled by Hann’ya, walking up the stairs. Sagara started, but the man lifted his hand. “The Oniwabanshuu loses honorably. Back to the present matter, I am concerned about Aoshi-sama. Don’t you feel the same, Shikijou?”

The muscled man rose with effort. “I feel like I shouldn’t have to see your face, first thing when I wake up.”

“I see you’re alright.” He scoffed but offered a hand to his comrade. Off the battlefield, they seemed to get along.

The gunfire continued, and they drew closer to the ballroom. The doors were open, and Koshijiro went ahead, glimpsing inside. Kanryuu was cackling wildly, cranking a Gatling gun. Where he had obtained it, Koshijiro had no idea, but he was elated, screaming two syllables as he swung the barrel around. There was another man, running back and forth. This had to be Shinomori Aoshi, the leader of the Oniwabanshuu. He was surprisingly young, with a smooth but cold face. Himura was a little bloodier, bleeding from his head as well, but he was still able to dodge the bullets. “Himura-san is in there, he’s alive.” However, his sakabato was on the other side of the room.

“Thank goodness.” Kaoru breathed. “But the gunfire…”

“Don’t move.” He warned. “It’s far too dangerous.” The smell of gunpowder unpleasantly reminded of the Satsuma battlefield.

Yahiko tilted his head. “Are those police whistles?”

Koshijiro strained his ears, confirming the distant sound. “Yes, they are.” Two of his own officers were patrolling tonight, and certainly around this time, they would be approaching this area. Apparently, they had heard the gunfire, and were alerting others for backup. “That’s good, they can take Kanryuu into custody.”

“And Megumi?”

Kaoru answered. “We’ll have to find her first. Could she be in the observation tower?” A fresh wave of gunfire stopped them from moving.

“We’re gonna get killed before we find her!” Yahiko shouted.

“Kanryuu! What are you doing?” Koshijiro faintly registered an unfamiliar voice from the ballroom, probably Shinomori’s.

“You dare addressing me with a title?! It’s Takeda-sama!” The gunfire changed pitch, indicating the barrel had turned, but it was also accompanied with a thud.

“Okashira!” Hann’ya rushed into the ballroom, Shikijou after him. Shinomori’s thighs were bleeding, he could no longer stand.

Takeda had stopped firing for now, gloating over his success. “Ha! You wanted the title of the strongest, you wanted to take it from Hitokiri Battousai! But neither of you are, it’s me! With the revenue from my opium, I can buy an entire line of Gatling guns! It’s money that rules the world, it’s money that gives power! So you can all just roll over and die!” He aimed again at Shinomori, who could not move. But Shikijou dove in front of him.

“No!” The sound of bullets did not echo.

This time, Koshijiro was pushed aside by Sagara, who stared at the scene in the ballroom. His former opponent was now dying, his body riddled with bullets as he still continued to shield his commander. “Shikijou…”

Kaoru and Yahiko took advantage of Koshijiro’s unobstructed left side, peeking in as well. “Oh, no…” His daughter gasped. Yahiko’s eyes were wide, and even Himura was shocked, standing still.

Shinomori’s expressionless demeanor had shattered. He shook his head, in denial. “Shikijou, you…”

“I…am…content…to serve…you…until the end.” Shikijou exhaled, and then, he dropped to his knees.

Takeda tsked, preparing to fire again. “He should have been pulverized.”

The other door to the ballroom flew open, Hyottoko standing there. “Then, I’ll be your opponent! If you’d like to be blown up!” If a bullet hit the oil sack…they’d go up in flames. Koshijiro eyed the stairs, the nearest exit route.

But Takeda had anticipated and aimed, right at Hyottoko’s head. A spray of blood bloomed from one eye. “Heh…he got me…” He seemed resigned, as he fell.

“Hyottoko!” Shinomori cried out, then blinked at the shadow rising from the man’s back. “…wait, Beshimi!”

The poisoner leapt in the air, but before he could throw a single dart, the Gatling gun started again. He hit the floor, still grinning at his commander. “Okashira…sorry….we weren’t…much help…” Then, he was gone as well.

Shinomori was distraught, blankly staring in shock. His men had greatly respected him, but now, Koshijiro could see he cared for them in turn.

But Takeda still had bullets left and gladly made it known. Koshijiro moved out of the line of fire, herding Kaoru and Yahiko with him. Sagara dove as well. Meanwhile, Hann’ya and Himura moved in opposite directions within the ballroom. Himura reached his sakabato, but Hann’ya received the full force of the attack. Unlike the others, he didn’t make a sound, his expression twisted in final defiance. Neither did Shinomori, who doubled over, as if surrendering at last.

Takeda swiveled the gun towards Himura. “Hmph, you used him as a decoy, Hitokiri Battousai. But you just delayed the inevitable, it’s your turn! Huh?” Instead of bullets, there was only a clicking sound when he cranked.

“What’s happening?” Kaoru demanded, struggling to see past Koshijiro. “Otou-san! How many bullets are left?”

“None, it looks like.” There were so many shells scattered on the ballroom floor, and that must have been why the Oniwabanshuu sacrificed themselves: to accept all the bullets, so their commander’s life would be preserved.

Himura drew his sakabato, his glare intense. “You’ve been firing all this time, and it was the Oniwabanshuu that defeated your Gatling gun. Now…where’s your money to help you?”

Takeda cursed, still trying to fire without avail. Himura closed the distance, stopping the opium dealer with an upward blow to the face. His teeth were loose, and they rattled as he jerked backwards. The thud of his body could have been hollow.

Shinomori had forced himself to stand, his face turned away. He had to be left alone in his grief, and they quietly shuffled past him, to the observation tower.

“That’s not a small wound.” Kaoru bit her lip at the three slashes on Himura’s front.

“Yes, but we need to hurry. The police will be here soon.” He waved away Sagara’s hand, and walked with the rest of them.

There was a single locked door at the end of the hallway, and Koshijiro stepped forward. “This will save time. Allow me.” He used his own weight to break down the flimsy door. Takani was alone, with a knife in her hands.

“Oh, good, no ambush.” Yahiko was satisfied, looking around at the mostly empty room.

“Yahiko, Sanosuke? Kamiya-san, you’re here, and even Kaoru. And…Ken-san. You’re injured.”

“We had trouble, but at least, you are safe.” Himura replied.

Takani looked at all of them, her red mouth turning downwards. “I’m sorry, I involved all of you in this. This dangerous mess. But…” She drew the knife, pressing the blade’s edge against her wrist. “I won’t bother you anymore. I…regret many things, but not meeting you. Thank you.”

“Wait!” Himura lunged forward.

“Takani-san!” Koshijiro called out, but Sagara reached her first. His own hand closed around the knife, preventing it from touching her. He ignored his bleeding hand, as he raised his voice.

“You…you idiot! Kenshin, Yahiko, Jou-chan, even the old man risked their lives to rescue you! You wanna waste their efforts, throw your life away when we worked this hard?!” He spat, pulling the knife away from her.

“But…what can I do? What’s left for me, when I made opium that killed people? There’s only death-”

“If you die, that doesn’t mean you can bring your victims back.” Himura interjected. “You can atone by dying, but you can also atone by saving others. That is the answer this one found.”

Takani stared for a moment, and then, she began to cry in earnest. No one said anything else, as they left the empty observatory room. It had been a long, sad night in this house of death, but at last, it had come to an end.

It was definitely fortunate that Takani had safely returned with them, because they were all injured. The worst off were Himura and Sagara, who had been treated with her family’s traditional medicine. Yahiko had a cut on his cheek, and Kaoru’s fingers were bandaged, from catching blades.

“Kaoru-dono, your fingers.” Himura bent his head, eyeing her clasped hands on the table.

“Oh, don’t worry, it was just from the Kamiya Kasshin techniques. It’s nothing compared to your injuries.” But she blushed, her gaze darting away to see who just entered. “Ah, Sano and Yahiko, you’re finally up! Do you want breakfast?”

“That depends. Did you cook it?” Sagara yawned.

“Well…yeah.”

“Then, no way!” Yahiko stuck his tongue out at her.

“You two, after I worked so hard-!” She stood, but Himura held her off, grabbing her shoulders from under her raised arms. His chest was touching her back.

“Now, Kaoru-dono…everyone is still recovering.” He was saying, but Koshijiro could hardly hear him over the roar in his ears. This contact was far too close! Over the line!

Koshijiro narrowed his eyes. “Arm’s length, Himura-san.” He maintained a pointed look, until Kaoru sat down again and Himura’s hands were to himself.

Takani noticed. “Oh ho! You’re restricted. That means it would be alright if it’s me…”

“You better not!” Kaoru was indignant, and Koshijiro wasn’t sure whether they could survive the certain storm between the girls.

However, only a few days later, they were bidding Takani farewell at the door. She was moving on, citing the house’s limited space. Furthermore, she had a new job in the city.

Yahiko waved, with both hands. “See you around!”

“Enjoy working.” Sagara offhandedly said, but that made her smile.

“Good luck, Megumi-dono.” Himura cheerfully said, and Takani’s smile widened even more.

Kaoru had decided to be generous. “You can visit us when you’d like.”

“Thank you.” She blinked, surprised. “And thank you, Kamiya-san. I look forward to working with Dr. Gensai.”

“He’s been searching for a suitable apprentice, so I think this should work out well.”

“I hope so. Ah, that sounds like them.” There was loud chatter from Dr. Gensai’s granddaughters, presumably just behind the gate. She wryly smiled and bowed. “Then, goodbye, everyone.”

“I’ll see you off.” Kaoru offered, and when they walked together, they almost looked like friends.

Himura turned to Koshijiro. “Thank you, Kamiya-dono, for settling Megumi-dono’s innocence with the police.”

“It helps that I was at the scene, and Takeda Kanryuu isn’t known for being truthful. Takani-san also has no evidence tied to her.” That could be faulted on Takeda, who most likely hid any trace of his manufacturer to protect his asset. In that end, that saved her.

“But what about Shinomori Aoshi?” Yahiko wondered aloud. “Didn’t you say he was missing?”

“Yes, he disappeared, along with the heads of the Oniwabanshuu.” The four bodies had been decapitated, a trail of blood leading to a secret passageway. Shinomori was assumed to have escaped into the surrounding area.

“It’s very likely, that we will see him again.” Himura mused aloud. “He still wants to be the strongest, and now that this one is tied to the deaths of his comrades…”

It was possible that Shinomori had set his sights on Himura. Hopefully, another fight would not be for some time. “For now, we are still investigating.”

“If you say so.” Sagara remained dubious. “No offense, but the opium investigation wasn’t that great. Still, at least Kanryuu’s been charged for my friend’s death. That’s something.”

“We’ll do our best. Speaking of which, I need to settle one more matter with the chief today.” He explained and later set out, in the afternoon.

He still remembered the night at Takeda’s mansion. They had come downstairs to see the police arrests in action, and Officers Tanaka and Abe greeted him.

“Kamiya-san, you’re here!”

“Yes, and so are you. Were you the ones who called for backup?” They affirmed that they were, and he approved. “Good work, you two.”

But to his surprise, the other thirteen were present, taking Takeda’s men into custody. Officer Shinichi was eager to participate, bowing briefly when he saw Koshijiro before returning to questioning an infantryman. All of his officers were helping in various ways, accepting responsibilities to alleviate the serious situation. They were still novices, but efficient novices. When he returned to his duties, he would treat them to a meal at the Akabeko. And that meant they all needed to be present.

For the second time this month, he entered the chief’s office, and his boss was pleased to see him. “It’s busy, but it’s good, now that Takeda Kanryuu’s finally in custody. And you had no small part in it.”

“Well…the raid was led by Himura-san.”

The chief nodded, understanding. “That’s expected of a veteran, who was on the front lines. But you are our representative, and I commend your officers for arriving on the scene so quickly. They were among the first ones there, calling for backup and locking down the perimeter. Shinomori did escape, but he was a spy, after all. And we have the other fifty.”

“That’s true.” Koshijiro paused. “I have my answer, regarding the personnel change.”

“Yes?”

“All fifteen of them behaved admirably, and I hesitate to end anyone’s training when they show such promise. I don’t think I can spare any one of them at the moment.”

The chief smiled. “I see. I’ll contact the other department and find out if they have other options. In the meantime, rest up so you can return to us soon.”

“I will, thank you.” And with that, he headed out into the street. The spring air was warm from the day’s sunshine, and he turned his feet towards home.

Chapter Text

In the start of April, the weather was unpredictable, warm one day and chilly the next. Colds were going around, and Koshijiro had developed a cough. Fortunately, he didn’t have a fever, but he made the decision to stay home, to prevent infecting his colleagues. Three days of hot broth and tea had helped, yet the cough still lingered.

From within his room, he heard his daughter calling out. “Yahiko! Yahiko…you’re not him! Geez, the two of you have similar hair.”

“Tch, lay off.” That was Sagara’s voice. He must have arrived this morning.

For the past couple of weeks, Yahiko had been skipping practice. It was infrequent, but he didn’t mention a word to Kaoru and that was unacceptable behavior from a student. Koshijiro wound a scarf around his neck, before checking further within the house. There was no sign of the boy anywhere, his bed had been made and his shoes were missing as well. Koshijiro turned towards the porch, where his daughter was sitting. Himura had both hands in soapy water and laundry, as Sagara chewed on the remnants of a grilled fish.

Kaoru greeted him. “Good morning, Otou-san. Yahiko’s not hiding inside, is he?”

“No, I didn’t see him.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “He’s disappeared again. I wonder what he’s doing…”

“I bet he’s gone to meet a girl.” Sagara gave a sly smile.

“No way. With the way he eats, it’s more likely to be food.”

“Or he could be training.” Himura suggested. He looked particularly contemplative, or maybe, it was because he was scrubbing at a stain. “By now, he should be thinking more about the sword.”

It remained a mystery, for Yahiko didn’t return until late afternoon. Surprisingly, he endured Kaoru’s scolding without much of a fight. “I was in town, okay?”

“And what were you doing?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m at the dojo, four out of six days a week.” That answer didn’t seem to please Kaoru, and she looked even more frustrated.

Koshijiro chose not to step in. It was best she had to deal with this issue herself, as a teacher. He also had his own idea about Yahiko’s absences: that the boy had taken on a job for pay. He could understand wanting pocket money. When he was at that age, he had tried to save up on his own. Although, that was because of his circumstances at the time…

Yahiko was let off with a warning, although he brushed it off. As he trudged to the bathhouse, Koshijiro said to his daughter. “I hope you have a plan to deal with him further.”

“Oh, I do. Next week, we’re going to follow him into town. You, me, Kenshin, and Sanosuke. He won’t notice at all.”

It sounded risky, but in the end, curiosity won out. Once Yahiko crept past the gate, they followed some distance behind. His shinai was strapped to his back, but that didn’t compensate for his poor surveillance skills, as he only looked to the left and right. He was acting suspicious too, meandering here and there through the streets.

Himura had been in front and he stopped. “Oro? The Akabeko?” Yahiko had slipped inside, barely moving the doors.

“Ah, so it was food!” Kaoru clenched a fist in victory.

But when they entered, the restaurant was empty, save for a few customers. Tae noticed them, waving. “Hello, everyone! Would you like a table?”

“In a minute.” Kaoru explained. “We’re looking for Yahiko.”

“You just missed him. I sent him to get more charcoal from the back.”

“Is he working here?”

“Mm, only errands. Although…I was supposed to keep it a secret.” Concern touched her expression. “Is he in trouble?”

“No, it’s fine. But why would he do something like this?”

Sagara stood on tiptoe, peering past them. “I might have an idea.” He jerked his chin towards a young girl around Yahiko’s age. She wore the uniform of a waitress, and she had delicate features and short hair.

Tae murmured. “That’s Tsubame, she started a few days after Yahiko did. Tsubame? Can you help Yahiko with the charcoal?”

“Yes, Tae-san.” She was a little nervous, quickly bowing before running to her destination.

“Oh, dear, I hope she doesn’t trip over herself.”

“She seems like a good worker.” Koshijiro noted, as the others crowded around the back door. Yahiko was shouldering a sack of charcoal, but they were out of his line of sight. Tsubame had fallen, and he lifted her bag for her.

Tsubame scrambled to her feet, looking more mussed than before. “I’m sorry, Yahiko-chan.”

“I don’t like being called that.” He grumbled. “And stop being so jumpy. ‘Discipline your movements.’ That’s part of swordsmanship.” He was saying the last more to himself, as he adjusted the weight of both bags.

Avoiding Yahiko’s entrance, they recouped in the dining area. There was no danger of being sighted now, for Tae said that his duties were anything but cooking and serving.

Sagara counted off his fingers. “A girl, food, training. Well, we were all kind of right, but there’s no clear motive to start working here.”

“I give him a small salary. He could be helping out with household expenses.” Tae said, which Kaoru and Sagara quickly dismissed.

“No way!”

“That brat wouldn’t.”

Tae looked dejected, and Koshijiro told her. “It was a good guess. However, we were unaware he was being paid.” He turned away, his throat acting up again, and was overtaken by a sudden fit of coughing.

“Here, Kamiya-dono.” Himura had refilled his cup. “More tea will help.”

“Thank you.” He managed to reply, before forcing down the hot liquid.

“I’ll make another pot.” Tae excused herself. As she walked back to the kitchen, she passed Tsubame, who was hurrying to assist another table.

When the girl saw the occupants, she took a step backwards, her eyes wide. She looked about, clutching her skirt. “Um, I’ll lead you to the outhouse.” She seemed very small, compared to the three men who followed her. The door slammed behind them.

“…This one will return shortly.” Himura grabbed his sword and left the table.

After a pause, Koshijiro stood. “I’ll go as well.” He had a suspicion that Tsubame’s nervousness this time was because of those customers. As expected, the only one near the outhouse was Himura. He glanced at Koshijiro, lifting a finger to his lips. Quietly, they headed down the nearby side street. 

A couple of turns later, Koshijiro furtively looked around a corner, at the ensuing scene. There were five more men now, and they were armed with bokken. They had ganged up on Yahiko, beating him as he curled on the ground. Tsubame cried out, begging them to stop.

Anger rose within Koshijiro. Yahiko was only a child, and he didn’t have much of a chance against these brutal men. But Himura had his sakabato and wasn’t moving.

There was a hiss from behind them. “Are you just going to stand there?” Sagara nudged Himura with his foot. “Don’t just watch.”

Kaoru had also joined them, pushing them aside. “Then, I’ll go. He’s my student, I’m responsible for him.”

“One moment.” Himura tugged at her ponytail, too briefly for Koshijiro to remind him about the rule. “This is something Yahiko must do on his own.”

“What are you talking about? He’s in danger.”

“If we step in, he’ll know we were following him. And if you are always rescued, you’ll never become strong. We should only help him, when he asks for it.”

Koshijiro acknowledged Himura’s perspective, and he had to side with it. It was true that Yahiko was still young, but he had responsibilities as a student of the sword. And because of them, he had to be mature, early on. Quietly, Koshijiro admitted. “Himura’s right, these lessons are valuable and can only be learned through experience. However, we’ll continue to watch him.”

The men had stopped, once Tsubame gave them what they wanted. It was a key-shaped model, and the leader, a man with droopy eyes, snickered as they walked away. Tsubame ran over to a wincing, bruised Yahiko.

He wiped the corner of his mouth, his sleeve coming away with smeared blood. “They’ll only need a day to make a replica of the key. They’ll break into Tae’s house tomorrow night.”

“Yahiko-chan. Oh, I mean, Yahiko-kun…”

“No, I don’t care. I couldn’t beat them, could I?” He sounded terribly bitter. “Don’t worry about me, I decided to help you. And I’m not giving up.”

In silence, they watched him, as he limped down the street. It was his fight. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be around, if he needed them.

The following morning was just like yesterday, except there was some kind of contraption in the yard. A log had been propped up, two bamboo poles crossed at its top. Four wooden planks hung down from each of the four ends.

Koshijiro sipped his second cup of tea. “Did you make this, Yahiko?”

He was stretching, rotating his shoulders. “Yeah, it’s, uh, a new way of training. For many enemies at once.”

“It won’t be much use. Think about it.” On the porch, Kaoru propped her chin in her hands. “The boards move in a fixed way, it’s not like how people move. They think and plan, and make complicated, coordinated attacks. This will just help your reflexes.”

Yahiko tapped his shinai in his hand. “If you know all that, then what should I do instead?”

That was outside of Kaoru’s experience. Even in Kanryuu’s mansion, her opponents had been fought one at a time. She hesitated. “Well, you should…make it one on one.”

“That’s not any help!”

“It is, actually.” Himura spoke up, from his spot near the laundry tub. “If you’re faced with a group, run away.” Yahiko was about to protest, but Himura continued. “Or rather, make it seem like you’re running away. As they follow you, it will be more apparent, who’s slower or faster. That way, you can take them on one at a time, as long as you have speed and stamina.”

“Oh. I get it now.” Yahiko paused, considering the concept. “What about you, Kamiya-san? You fought in wars too. Any advice?”

“Rely on your practice. Kaoru’s taught you well, don’t put it to waste.”

He glanced at Kaoru. “Okay.”

“And remember something else that’s important.” She said. “Kamiya Kasshin is the sword that protects. That’s why you can’t fail or surrender, for the sake of whoever you’re fighting for.”

He nodded, looking more resolute. “I understand.”

In the end, the contraption was only used for honing reflexes. It was useful in that respect, but not very sturdy, and it was taken down before dinner. The sky grew dark over the house, and Yahiko slipped out, thinking he had been discreet. However, they did notice, and Sagara and Himura departed to tail him. Kaoru paced back and forth for a while, until at last, she picked up her own bokken. “I said all I could, but I’m still worried.”

“And that’s perfectly fine. You wouldn’t be a good teacher otherwise.”

She smiled. “Then, let’s go. Just in case, of course.” Her ponytail bobbed as she walked past the gate, and Koshijiro remarked.

“Have you thought about wearing your hair in a bun?”

“Not really, why?”

“So Himura isn’t tempted to pull it.”

“Otou-san…”

“He acted like a schoolboy yesterday.”

She gave a distasteful expression. “Kenshin isn’t a schoolboy. I thought you two were getting along!” She stomped further ahead, before halting. “Is that…?”

A familiar, short-haired girl huddled in the shadow of a building, peering around its corner. She hadn’t seen them, her attention on a dark alley.

“Yes, that appears to be Tsubame.” Koshijiro said. “But this isn’t near the Akabeko, it’s a dead end.”

“I know.” Kaoru went over to her, clasping her shoulder. “Good evening, although it isn’t very safe at night.”

Tsubame jumped. “Who are you?”

“I’m Yahiko’s teacher. I know what’s happening, and I thought you might be here to try and stop those men.”

She looked down. “Mikio-sama, or rather, Nagaoka-san belongs to the family mine served for generations. I didn’t know how to refuse him. So, I thought if I could stop them, Yahiko-chan wouldn’t be hurt.”

“Right now, it seems like it’s too late. He’s made it all the way here, to fight them off. You’ll have to trust Yahiko, and make a promise to yourself.”

“A promise?”

“That if Yahiko wins, you will also be stronger. This is a new era, and the four classes are equal. Your heart must reflect that, and if Nagaoka comes back to you, tell him no from the beginning. You’re not obligated to serve him, your duty is to what you believe is right. That’s how you have to live now.”

Abruptly, seven men ran out from around the corner. As they rushed past, Koshijiro heard them muttering ‘Battousai’ and ‘Zanza’. So, the other two were nearby, showing their presence. He glimpsed into the alley, but Yahiko was still fighting the leader. Nagaoka lunged, aiming low.

“Yahiko-kun!” Tsubame called out, no longer hiding. She stood straight, facing him. “Please, win!”

With a shout, Yahiko threw his weight on his right foot, stopping Nagaoka’s bokken. It snapped on the ground, and as Nagaoka faltered, Yahiko seized the opportunity for a head strike. He had won, decisively so.

Kaoru stepped over Nagaoka’s unconscious body, beaming at Yahiko. “You did it! As expected of my first student!” She was so proud, she hugged him.

“W-what? Get off!” He spluttered and twisted away. “Wait. If you’re here, then that means…” He whipped around.

Koshijiro caught a flash of movement from the closest rooftop, and then, an incredibly poor imitation of cicadas humming.

“There aren’t cicadas in spring!” Yahiko ground out. “Kenshin and Sano!”

They emerged, appearing nonchalant. Himura rubbed the back of his head. “Oro…”

“It wasn’t any of your business. Were you watching the whole time?”

“Yeah, and you weren’t half bad.” Sagara ruffled his hair. “Nice work.”

Himura also smiled. “Yes, you used your surroundings and your training to your advantage. It was good swordsmanship. Well done.”

“Hmph. Anyway, I got the key mold. I was thinking it can be evidence, but, er, Tsubame…” It was possible that she would be in trouble for assisting Nagaoka.

Gently, Kaoru said. “We don’t have to involve Tsubame with the police. As for her job, Tae’s very fair, but it’s late. I’ll escort Tsubame home.”

“Then, take care.” Himura then offered. “We’ll wait for the police, so we can turn in the potential burglar.”

Tsubame didn’t move immediately. “Um, thank you, Yahiko-kun.” There may have been a slight blush on her cheeks.

“I didn’t help you to be thanked.” But he toed the dirt, slightly flustered. “Er…shy and awkward people rub me the wrong way.”

“Yes, so I’m not going to be as shy and awkward.” They exchanged a glance, before she gave a little wave. “I’ll see you at the Akabeko tomorrow.”

Koshijiro and Kaoru went with her, although they weren’t out of earshot, when Sagara demanded. “So, why were you working? You’ve been keeping this secret the whole time.”

“Alright, alright. I want to buy a sakabato, for when I’m as good as Kenshin.” There was a raucous burst of laughter from Sagara, making Yahiko add. “This is exactly why I kept it a secret! D-don’t tell anyone else!”

However, his voice was loud in the quiet evening, and they heard, Kaoru stifling a laugh. So, he was saving up. And that meant…

“Ah, I won.”

“Kamiya-san?” Tsubame blinked. “Did you say something?”

“It’s nothing of importance.” But still, he smiled as they walked on.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t very often, that Koshijiro dreamed of Chiba.

This one started with blank darkness, giving way to the empty courtyard. As if through water, he heard the muffled noises of training, of shouts and the hollower echoes of bamboo against bamboo. He prepared to enter the dojo, but instead of seeing his daughter and Yahiko, he found himself in a completely different space. The walls were darker with age, and the floorboards worn from repeated use. Rows of numerous placards, each with a student’s name, stretched onwards, and the foremost sign bore the kanji of the teacher’s name. Motomiya Takato.

This was the dojo of Koshijiro’s most prominent kenjutsu instructor. And this was where he first met-

His left arm, whole and restored, was suddenly tugged before him. Holding his hand was a very familiar young woman. As much as he treasured his wife’s portrait, the only likeness of her he had, it couldn’t compare to his memory of her. In this dream, she was in her peak health, during the days of their early acquaintance. Her eyes were the color of a summer sky, and her smile was so tender.

“Kyoko…” Even in the dream, his heart physically ached.

Her mouth quirked in amusement. “Kamiya-kun, you shouldn’t get in trouble with my father. Now, go on, lessons are starting soon.” She pulled him towards the floor, but he turned, clasping her shoulders.

“I’d rather not see him. I should stay with you.” Anything, to make her last a little longer.

“He has his faults, but he isn’t cruel. Or is it that you feel guilty?” She blinked, and she aged, to her late twenties. Her concerned face was in startling clarity. “He never knew, did he? Before he passed…”

“I know, and I regret that. And that things were left unfinished, regarding your family. But we had our own, we had Kaoru.”

“Kaoru? Where is she?” Kyoko jerked away, frantically looking around. She hurried to the furthest door, leading into her ancestral home. “Where’s our daughter? Kaoru?!”

“Kyoko, she never stepped foot in here. Wait!” But she disappeared, and he fell to his knees, his left hand still helplessly outstretched, reaching for his long-gone wife.

“Kamiya-kun, stop dawdling and join the class.” Motomiya-sensei had appeared, as how Koshijiro last remembered him, with graying hair, deep frown lines, and a bokken in hand. More students waited beside him, and Koshijiro recognized some of them. Hayashi, Kikuhara, Maekawa.

With the atmosphere, he felt like a young man again, powerless and uncertain of himself. “I…I apologize. However-”

“You apologize for being late? Or for spiriting away my only child from Chiba?” He tossed another wooden sword at Koshijiro. “Take up your sword and demonstrate your repentance.”

It was an invitation to spar, but unlike in previous matches with his teacher, he had vastly greater experience. With both arms, his movements were fluid, strong, and confident. It was apparent that the fight would be brief and after a few seconds, Motomiya-sensei had to shuffle backwards, against the wall bearing his placard.

“Very good.” Then, he lunged, quickly closing the distance. Koshijiro knew he had paused too long, before trying to deflect…

He woke, with a sharp gasp. Perspiration dampened his skin, and still, he could almost feel the pressure of the bokken at his throat. He couldn’t move from his futon, and he tensed when a knock sounded at the door. It wasn’t the first knock, he realized, and whoever was there must have woken him.

“Kamiya-dono, are you awake yet?” Himura sounded concerned, and for good reason. Typically, Koshijiro left his room before breakfast. 

He forced out an answer. “Yes, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Slowly, he removed the blanket and began to dress. It took him longer than usual. Even while sitting, his center of balance was off, the loss of his left arm starkly noticeable. He felt extremely drained; he blamed the dream and how vivid it was.

When he finally arrived at the table, Kaoru gave a worried look. “Otou-san, are you okay?”

“I didn’t sleep very well.”

“I wonder if you haven’t fully recovered from your cold. It’s good that today is your day off.” Just to be sure, she pressed her palm to his forehead. “Not warm at all. Well, you can rest up while we go to the Maekawa dojo.”

“No, I’ll come along, I’d like to see him.” His old friend had not yet contacted him, and they never had their reunion after Koshijiro’s return. Now, with this lingering nostalgia, it was a good time. “I’ll have the afternoon to relax.”

“Alright, if you say so. Kenshin, you’re coming too.”

“Oro?”

“You heard me, Maekawa-sensei wants to meet you properly. Last time, you only said hello and immediately left.”

“This one had to attend to the day’s tasks. Even for today, this one must chop the wood and do the washing.”

“In that case, you can also run to the market. We need miso, salt, rice, soy sauce, oh, and vinegar…”

The list appeared to be overwhelming, because Himura relented. “Then, this one will go with you.”

“Looks like it!” She was decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, Yahiko, get your shoes.”

He had just finished his breakfast, slurping the last of his miso. His eyes were glazed over, as if he was still half asleep, and Kaoru dragged him off by the collar.

The morning was pleasantly warm, as they walked to the southern side of Tokyo. The Maekawa dojo was more isolated than the Kamiya dojo, surrounded by tall pine trees. The sign nailed to the gate had been recently replaced, with the school’s name, Chuuetsu, in fresh ink. Twenty students were already present, and they paused to say hello. They crowded around, eagerly greeting Kaoru.

“We’ve been waiting for you, please come in!”

“Thank you! Now, don’t mind us, continue practice.”

“Ah, all this distraction means it must be Kaoru-sensei.” A voice interrupted, and Maekawa entered the room. He looked well, although the lines had somewhat deepened around his eyes.

“Oh, Maekawa-sensei!” Kaoru bowed.

He gave a slight smile, as the crowd of students hurriedly parted for him. “You’ve brought your student and this Kenshin fellow again, I see. My students say I should spar with you at some point.” He stared at Himura for a moment, seriously studying him. It was his usual tactic of gauging an opponent’s will to fight. But Himura didn’t flinch, and they exchanged smiles, before Maekawa turned his gaze away. That was when he noticed Koshijiro and there was a slip in his composure, a flash of surprise. “Kamiya-sensei.”

Ignoring how the students murmured amongst themselves, Koshijiro stepped forward. “Yes, we haven’t met since I returned from Satsuma.”

“…That’s right. I’ll get cushions for you two.” With that, he left as quietly as he had entered.

“He’s avoiding me.” Koshijiro remarked, and Himura attempted to reassure him.

“There must be a reasonable explanation.”

“Yes, there has to be.”

Kaoru had taken her position at the front of the dojo, beginning her instruction as a guest teacher. Today’s lesson was on sparring technique, which Yahiko was already familiar with. Disinterested, he wandered over, asking. “You’re not gonna fight Maekawa-sensei, Kenshin?”

“This one doesn’t want to fight.” Himura demonstrated his typical carefree smile. “Maekawa-dono could tell, so he no longer wishes for a match.”

“Yeah, I guess you probably would have won.”

“Oro!”

Maekawa returned, with two cushions in hand. “There’s room right here, in front of the folding screen. But before you’re comfortable, Kamiya-sensei, I must speak with you for a moment. Himura-san, have some tea while you wait.” He motioned forward a servant, holding a tea tray. Then, he headed for the courtyard, Koshijiro following. The porch had been recently swept, and they sat down in silence.

“My wife is in town for the day, visiting relatives. It’s a shame, she would have liked to meet Kaoru as the new master of Kamiya Kasshin. Was that recent?”

“The day after I came home, I handed down the title. So, it was recent enough.”

“I see.” Maekawa’s smile was bitter. “And you must be wondering why I didn’t meet you.”

“Well…”

To his surprise, Maekawa prostrated himself, planting his hands on the floorboards. “I was ashamed. I didn’t think I was worthy of facing you again.”

“Whatever for?”

“While you were gone, I asked Kaoru to come here and teach. My students were dwindling; even now, one in three never show up. Kaoru’s presence made them stay. I used your legacy for selfish purposes, and I was full of regret. Would you forgive me?”

“Of course, I forgive you. Kamiya Kasshin also benefited by teaching your students, and I was glad you kept in contact with Kaoru. Now, please stop bowing.” Koshijiro urged him to raise his head.

“Thank you.” The tension was gone, and now, Maekawa’s demeanor was friendlier, as they shuffled back to the dojo. “Well, that takes a load off my shoulders. Now, about your new boarder. He seems to be a decent young man, but such intense eyes…”

“He’s twenty-eight years old.”

“What?! That can’t be true!”

“I hardly believed it myself, with that face.”

“Twenty-eight.” Maekawa repeated. “He’s well over marrying age, and a composed man like him would make for a good husband. With a young woman in the house, an offer of courtship wouldn’t be surprising.”

“There isn’t anything of the sort.” Koshijiro flatly said. It was also best to nip this topic in the bud, before Maekawa could bring up similarities to what happened in the Motomiya household.

“Ha-ha, of course!” He laughed, clapping Koshijiro’s back. “Then, how about one of my students?”

“No.” For some reason, he disliked that idea even more.

One student had overheard. He must have been an admirer of Kaoru, because he suddenly broke focus and missed a parry. He stumbled, and Maekawa went over to correct him. Koshijiro drew his gaze away, to the opposite end of the room. Kaoru had proceeded to individual sparring, telling a student to keep his hips back, before calling the next forward. Himura hadn’t moved at all, spectating with interest.

Kaoru was seventeen. Kyoko was the same age, when he fell in love with her, and his own mother had been seventeen when she met his father. It wasn’t unusual. But this was different, because it was his little girl. With a sigh, Koshijiro settled on his cushion, avoiding looking at Himura, who had just lifted his cup of tea.

“Would you like some, Kamiya-dono?”

“No, I’m fine.” The recent talk had spoiled any appetite he had.

Maekawa rejoined them, oblivious as he looked over the room. “This is nice to see. A dojo, full of hardworking students. Still, I wonder what will happen to kenjutsu.” He lamented. “The art is dying. The war in Satsuma breathed a little life into it, but it’s dying nonetheless. It’s been ages since we’ve had any challenges.”

“That’s a good thing.” Koshijiro countered. A school’s purpose was to teach peacefully, he still believed in that.

“Not for me, I miss it!” He had always been a little cocky, and that hadn’t changed.

As if he had been overheard, the sliding door slammed open to reveal a tall man, his face hidden by a straw hat. He entered the dojo, with his sandals still on. It was incredibly disrespectful, and he ignored the students’ warnings to remove his shoes. Instead, he practically ripped off his hat and leveled an intimidating stare at Maekawa. He was a rough-looking man, even his hair was unkempt.

“I am Isurugi Raijuuta,” He announced. “I’m here to challenge Maekawa Miyauchi to a match!”

Maekawa had gotten his wish, but Koshijiro didn’t like this turn of events. Isurugi looked formidable, and he had youth on his side, towering over Maekawa.

“I accept.” Maekawa was unfazed, smiling reassuringly at his anxious students. Confidently, he accepted a shinai from one. “Let’s make it a fair fight, two out of three. But be warned, I was in the Edo 20^th Division, I won’t make it easy for you.”

Isurugi seemed to ignore the introduction, his eyes on the length of bamboo. “A shinai...Yutaro!” A name? Indeed, a boy, around Yahiko’s age, hurried into the dojo with a wrapped bundle of weapons. Isurugi snapped at him. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, your legs are so long and I ran as fast as I could.” He huffed. “You said a shinai? Pfft, that’s just a toy! And you call this a dojo?”

Yahiko lost his temper, kicking the new boy’s legs and making him stumble. “Shut up! Who do you think you are?”

Yutaro seethed. “I should ask that, you brat!”

“You’re the brat! I’m the best student of the Kamiya Kasshin school, Myojin Yahiko!”

“Well, I’m Raijuuta-sensei’s best student, Tsukayama Yutaro.” He was abruptly hushed by his teacher.

“Be quiet. Unfortunately, I don’t have a shinai. I’ll borrow one.”

Five minutes later, the floor was cleared for the match, the two men facing each other. Next to Koshijiro, Himura murmured. “The final point is what will matter.”

“At a glance, yes, they appear to be evenly matched. But Maekawa-sensei didn’t escape the Bakumatsu without injury.” Noticing how serious Himura’s gaze became, Koshijiro added. “Let’s hope he doesn’t overexert himself, that’s all.”

Everyone else was seated, except for Kaoru, who was overseeing the match as a third party. “The master of the Kamiya Kasshin school, Kamiya Kaoru, will be judging.” She somberly announced. Her concerned gaze flitted to Maekawa, before she called out. “First round!”

Maekawa’s kiya reverberated through the dojo. He looked like he was in his element, his expression completely stoic. On the other hand, Isurugi had bared his teeth, tensing.

Himura suddenly interrupted. “No! Run, Maekawa-sensei!”

Whether Maekawa recognized it too late or was unable to move in time, it didn’t matter. Isurugi had closed the distance between them, striking down on Maekawa’s shoulder, then up for a hit to the head.

“Stroke to the head. First point!” Then, Kaoru rushed over to Maekawa, who had staggered backwards. His students supported him, inquiring if he was alright. Kaoru shook her head. “Your shoulder’s fractured, we’ll have to get a doctor.”

“No! The match is still on. As a swordsman, I have no reason to withdraw. Second…round.” He huffed, brushing everyone off to step towards Isurugi again. “Don’t think of interfering, Kamiya-sensei. Neither should you, Himura-san.”

Koshijiro realized he had drawn closer, and that Himura had half risen, supporting himself on one knee. He didn’t reply, his face conflicted. Koshijiro felt the same way. He didn’t think victory was probable for his friend, and with his condition, it was far likelier he’d suffer greater injury. But if Maekawa was this determined, he had to respect that, despite how it pained him.

Reluctantly, Kaoru declared. “Second round!”

Isurugi scoffed. “That first blow didn’t kill you? Then have another!” Another head strike, and Maekawa couldn’t dodge, falling to the floor. Kaoru announced that the match was over, but Isurugi grabbed Maekawa by the collar. “You fool.” Again, the shinai was raised.

Several things happened at once. The students rushed forward, reaching for their master. Yahiko cried out, Yutaro smugly looking on. Kaoru shouted, and Koshijiro tried to reach his friend before the third hit. And Himura leapt, drawing the sakabato. The gleaming point was at Isurugi’s throat in an instant, stopping the challenger.

Himura narrowed his eyes. “You won two out of three points. Do you intend to kill him?”

“Of course. A person’s life counts as a point, and this is a three stroke match. If the last one kills him, it kills him.” He callously released Maekawa, who fell back against Kaoru.

The students frantically surrounded their groaning master. One was sent for a doctor, another for Sachi. Koshijiro hurried over. Maekawa had a nasty head wound, but his skull was still intact. A third hit wouldn’t have guaranteed that. However, another fracture was highly possible, and a couple of students tore their sleeves, to use for bandaging.

“Get pillows to support him, and clean rags.” Koshiijro said. “Maekawa-sensei, don’t move so much.”

“I…the school…” He clenched his hands, and Koshijiro felt intensely sorry for him.

“Don’t think about that for now.” Kaoru reassured. The servant from earlier gave her a cushion, and she tucked it under his head. “It’ll be alright.”

Isurugi hadn’t flaunted his victory, his attention had been diverted to Himura. “Do you belong to this dojo?”

“No, this one resides at the Kamiya dojo.”

“A shame. I would like a match with you, with real swords.”

“This one isn’t interested. This one will not use the sword to kill.” Himura’s terse reply left no room for discussion.

“Is that so? Yutaro! Take down this dojo’s sign and burn it.” There was a collective gasp.

Yutaro scrambled to his feet. “Yes, sensei! Should we burn it on the main street?”

This was too much for one student, the same young man who had stumbled earlier. “You can’t!”

“Can’t?” Isurugi repeated. “I’ve defeated the dojo’s master, I can do whatever I want with it now. If anyone has objections, we can settle the matter again.” He gripped his shinai, and the students’ glances darted away.

“Then, I’ll be your opponent!”

Koshijiro turned his head to see his daughter, wielding her own shinai.

“I’m not from this dojo, but it’s always been kind to me. On behalf of the Kamiya Kasshin school, I will repay them and answer your challenge!”

Himura stepped forward. “That won’t be necessary. In her stead, this one will accept-”

Koshijiro stopped him, clasping his shoulder. “No, let Kaoru take the challenge.”

“Kamiya-dono.” He smiled. It was a subtle difference, but after so many weeks being around him, Koshijiro could tell it was forced. “This one does not want to see Kaoru-dono hurt.”

“I know, neither do I. But as the master of Kamiya Kasshin, Kaoru has the right to take on a challenge. If you were her student or Maekawa’s, you could accept for her, but you’re not. To our schools, you are an outsider, and it would be a disgrace to rely on you. We have the duty and privilege of protecting our own reputations, Himura-san. Leave us our honor, at least. And also,” He added. “if it’s shinai kenjutsu, Kaoru won’t be easily defeated. It’s her life’s work.”

At least, he hoped she wouldn’t be harmed. Otherwise, he’d go after Isurugi himself.

Another student, a young man with close-cropped hair, volunteered to judge the match. Before Kaoru began, Himura stopped her, whispering something Koshijiro couldn’t hear. His daughter firmly nodded, giving Himura a brave smile he didn’t return. He didn’t sit down again, shoving his hands into his sleeves and keeping his eyes on Kaoru as she walked to the middle of the floor. She held the shinai in front of her, in a completely neutral manner. There was no telling which way she would move.

“First round!”

Ten seconds. That was the limit of Isurugi’s patience. He used his only strike, going on the offensive.

Kaoru did not counterattack, turning away at the last second. The force was intense, but after seeing Maekawa’s match, she recognized not to fight it. Instead, she moved into a basic stance, turning to the side, grounding herself, and keeping her wrists together as the shinai absorbed the impact. Deflecting was the correct decision, to protect the fragile bones of the hands and avoid the strike head-on. The shinai snapped, the broken half falling with a thud. Koshijiro let out a breath, relieved she hadn’t been hurt.

“Whew.” Yahiko wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “That was close, wasn’t it?”

The judging student eagerly called. “The match is over. A draw.”

But Isurugi didn’t bow in acceptance, only snarling. “Did you mean to force a draw?”

Kaoru didn’t answer, and Koshijiro noticed how her grip slightly shook. It had taken all of her focus to watch for an opening, and all of her strength to fend off that single hit.

Then, Isurugi raised his shinai yet again.

This time, Himura interfered, and Koshijiro was glad for it. He had grabbed another shinai, and as he pulled Kaoru back with one hand, the other gripped the bamboo to fully block Isurugi. Koshijiro blinked; his vision had strangely wavered, but it was only for a second. Himura’s shinai snapped as well, but a crack had appeared in the floorboards. If Isurugi had hit either Himura or Kaoru, they would have been severely injured.

As for Koshijiro, he took a shinai off the rack and stormed over. He’d absolutely had it with this black-hearted upstart, and if he wouldn’t leave now, he was going to pay. Despite how he had to crane his head to make eye contact with Isurugi, he was unapprehensive, giving him the full brunt of his glare. “The match has been called, that hit was illegal!”

“T-that’s right!” The judging student hastily added. But Isurugi didn’t budge, as if he was considering the matter.

“It was a one stroke match.” Himura coolly said. “And you have used yours. With this loss, retreat from the Maekawa dojo.”

“Immediately.” Koshijiro lifted his shinai, so it was level with the soft tissue above Isurugi’s stomach. A blow here wouldn’t be debilitating, but Koshijiro recognized his own physical limits and this was the best option for the most effective attack, should the other man retaliate. “I may only have one arm, but at this range, it’s more than enough. You’ve hurt my friend and threatened my daughter and boarder. I have no reason to hesitate, if you’re still feeling reckless.”

Isurugi did back off, snorting. “I planned to leave anyway. Have your pathetic sign. Come, Yutaro.”

“Uh, yeah!” The boy scrambled after, but not before delivering a last parting shot to Yahiko. “See, Raijuuta-sensei was superior the whole time!”

“Not without breaking the rules.” Yahiko argued. “It’s not settled until there’s a fair fight.”

“Well, until then, be glad you’re still alive!”

The pair marched out of the dojo, as quickly as they had entered. An uneasy silence lingered in their wake, no one mentioning that the sign had been left alone. Then, the doctor and a pale-looking Sachi arrived, and everything else was forgotten amidst the urgency of Maekawa’s state.

“Huh. Well, sorry I missed all of that yesterday, it sounded interesting.” Sagara remarked. The smell of alcohol hung around him; he must have gone gambling and arrived just as everyone had gathered in the yard, for the morning’s water break.

“It’s not interesting at all!” Kaoru snapped. “Maekawa-sensei’s confined to bed and their dojo has to close for a while!” It was unclear for how long, because as the body aged, it was slower to heal.

“Well, if it was a fair fight, then you can’t blame Isurugi’s strength. Isn’t that right, Kenshin?” He turned to Himura, who was sitting on the porch.

“He was strong, but even more than what’s needed to hone his skills or show off. He treated the shinai with contempt. What would he gain from storming other dojos?”

“Who knows? So, how did Jou-chan bring it to a draw?”

“Are you saying I couldn’t have?” Her tone was dangerously foreboding.

Yahiko sensed it, muttering as he inched away from his teacher. “Yeah, but you just had a shinai…”

Koshijiro chose that moment to speak up. “Kamiya Kasshin was of my own devising. However, the strongest influences are from my father-in-law, who was a kenjutsu instructor, and my own initial training in my family’s style. Although they were separate schools in name, they both claimed descent from one: Tenshin Shouden Katori Shinto.”

“Huh?”

However, Himura knew the name. “One of the major schools of martial arts, founded when Ashikaga Yoshimitsu was shogun. It was born in Chiba, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, in what was Shimosa Province. That was also where the Kamiya family lived for many generations. Kaoru even spent her childhood there, we didn’t move permanently to Tokyo until after the Meiji era began. But I made sure that Kamiya Kasshin maintained its ties to its forerunner. Kaoru had extensive learning in the theory of traditional kenjutsu, but only with the shinai and bokken.”

“You can’t kill with either of those.” Sagara pointed out.

“That’s right, but in order to protect others, it’s best to understand the techniques the enemy may use and use that knowledge to peacefully dispatch them. As we saw, it worked. Kaoru displayed excellent judgment during the match. She can tell you more, I’ve spoken enough.”

His daughter smiled. “I didn’t mind listening, Otou-san. You look a lot livelier when you talk about kenjutsu, that’s definitely an improvement from yesterday. Anyway, I did have help from Kenshin.”

“This one advised to let the shinai fall naturally, neither to the left or right, so Isurugi would not be able to read her moves.” So that was what he whispered, before the match. “However, it was expertise that resulted in the best outcome.” He smiled at Kaoru, and Koshijiro was dismayed to see her face redden.

“The best outcome wouldn’t have been a win?” Yahiko asked.

“Someone like Isurugi, who disrespected the dojo from the moment he walked in, would not have accepted a loss gracefully. It is likely he would have continued to challenge the dojo. Even now…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. It was uncertain, how Isurugi would handle a draw.

“Excuse me? Is this the Kamiya Kasshin dojo?” A voice drew their attention to the gate, where an older man, wearing a Western suit, stood.

“Yes, it is.” Kaoru answered. “Can we help you?”

“I’m acting on behalf of Isurugi Raijuuta. He would like to meet with the residents, and there’s a carriage waiting, to take you to him.”

They didn’t have much of a choice. As they were taken out of the city, the carriage hit every bump on the road.

The Tsukayama estate was, in a word, wealthy. Carefully positioned rocks and shrubs were placed throughout the courtyard, and a number of pruned trees completed the picture. Broad stepping stones marked the meandering path to the gate. This elegance had to have come at a high price, and for a moment, they stared in awed silence.

Koshijiro remembered himself first. “That’s enough gawking. Let’s walk through.” Even the soil under his feet was soft from attentive turnover. The others followed after him, Sagara muttering.

“This Isurugi’s some moneybags?”

“Not at all, he looks like a thug.” Kaoru hissed in response.

They didn’t have to walk far, before a figure bowed and greeted them. He didn’t have any outstanding features, other than his topknot, styled in the way of former samurai. “Welcome to my estate. I’m Tsukayama Yuzaemon.”

“Tsukayama? Are you that brat’s dad?” Yahiko blurted, before he was suddenly tackled by Yutaro, who had leapt out of a nearby bush.

“Who are you calling a brat?! And what are you doing here? Raijuuta-sensei only-”

“Yutaro, behave!” Tsukayama grabbed his son’s collar, pulling him aside. “Regardless of what your teacher said, these are our guests. I apologize for my child’s rudeness.” He said to the rest of them.

“It’s no trouble.” Himura mildly replied. His hand held Yahiko’s shoulder, in a gesture that looked completely natural.

“Now, I’m not sure who exactly from the Kamiya Kasshin dojo will meet with Raijuuta-sensei. But my best guess would be the master, I suppose.” Tsukayama directed his smile towards Koshijiro, which he didn’t return.

“That would be my daughter. However, I’ll accompany her to this meeting.” Kaoru had not brought her shinai, and although he didn’t have a weapon of his own, he would never leave her alone with Isurugi.

“Oh.” He was genuinely surprised. “Well, Raijuuta-sensei should be in the garden. If the two of you would follow me, please. Yutaro, could you escort the other guests into the house? There should be leftover tea and perhaps something to eat.”

Yutaro was eager to lead the other three away, Himura trailing behind. Meanwhile, Tsukayama had walked on. In that direction, the garden was on the other side of a glittering pond, only reachable by a bridge, its surface bright with red paint. Tall, thin bamboo and contiguous shrubs framed the edges of the water.

“You have a very beautiful home.” Kaoru offered a sincere compliment, her eyes wide at the surrounding scenery. It was nice, Koshijiro had to admit, but his guard was still up.

“I’m a merchant, I export swords overseas. The Europeans and Americans think of them as pieces of art, and they pay highly. Not everyone agrees with this line of work…we were attacked by bandits while traveling. That was how we met Raijuuta-sensei, he rescued us and since then, he’s stayed here as Yutaro’s kenjutsu instructor. Ah, there you are!” He called out to a figure, approaching from the bridge’s opposite end. “Well, take your time.”

As he departed, a flicker of distaste ran through Koshijiro and he muttered. “He would leave his guests to meet this man alone? Is he even aware of what his son’s teacher has done?”

“Otou-san,” Kaoru replied in kind. “I don’t think he really cares. He seems to be the type of person who’s easily impressed by strength and not much else.”

“Nevertheless-” He broke off, a current of pain running through his left shoulder. He stopped himself from groaning aloud, clenching his teeth. Why did a phantom pain have to happen now?!

Kaoru helped him towards a nearby stone, large and flat enough to serve as a makeshift chair. “Here, rest. Do you want me to fetch Tsukayama-san?”

“No.” He also doubted their host could be of any help. “I only need a minute, it doesn’t get worse than this.”

“Okay.” Kaoru stayed with him for a few more moments, before he indicated that the pain was definitely fading. Her worried gaze darted back to Isurugi, who was still on the bridge. “I don’t think he’ll wait much longer. I’ll see what he wants, and I’ll be back.”

He was too weary to protest, but he glared at Isurugi’s figure. He needed to catch his breath, before returning to his daughter. Rustling from behind the boulder made him look along the pond’s edge, to see three figures crouching and just barely peeking above the bushes. With a sigh, Koshijiro dryly asked. “Was there no tea?” He could hardly register his own voice, but they had heard, turning to him.

Yahiko was nervous from being caught, and he twiddled his thumbs. “Well, Kenshin slipped out, so Sano and I just followed his lead.”

Himura explained himself. “This one was concerned for Kaoru-dono’s safety.”

“I can’t blame you, but if Tsukayama’s son notices you’re missing…”

“Eh, he’s not going to be an issue. Wait. Shh.” Sagara unnecessarily motioned for them to be silent, before subtly pointing at the bridge.

“Make it quick, what do you want with us?” Kaoru was asking, the beginning of a frown on her face.

“Nothing with you. You practice shinai kenjutsu, an imitation, the root of what’s made swordsmanship weak.”

Kaoru’s expression contorted in anger. “Weak?! Is this why you’re challenging dojos? If that’s the way you think, you’re wrong. There’s nothing weak about protecting others, and unlike you, we proved it. After all, we saved the Maekawa dojo, without real swords.” She took a single step forward.

Isurugi sneered, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword.

Then, there was movement at the edge of Koshijiro’s attention. Himura had decided that crossing the pond was the fastest way to reach Kaoru. He must have cut one of the nearby bamboo, for he plunged a long stalk into the water. Using momentum, he climbed up its other end, and the bamboo bent with his weight, carrying him over the water. It was still whole when it dropped with a noisy splash, just as Himura landed on the bridge, between Kaoru and Isurugi.

“Alright, Kenshin!” Yahiko whooped. “That was awesome!”

“Man, only he could pull that off, he’s light enough.” Sagara said with a grin. “And you can sit back down, old man, he can handle it.”

Koshijiro was on his feet, but he continued to stand, rigidly watching the unfolding scene. “So that’s how it is. Isurugi was after Himura-san all along.”

Indeed, the man appeared to be pleased by Himura’s intrusion. “Himura Kenshin, was it? I want you to join my Shinko school, and help me revive the old ways of kenjutsu. There’s nothing to learn, only strength is needed.”

“Rather than a school, it sounds like a unit of swordsmen.” Himura evenly said.

“Call it whatever you like, but you were the first to block my secret technique, the Izuna. Such power is needed to destroy these weak schools. Only the most talented should carry kenjutsu into the Meiji era!” His words echoed in the air. Himura didn’t react, but Kaoru had grown pale.

“He has a point,” Sagara conceded, murmuring. “If only the best practice kenjutsu, like in Noh and Kabuki, that’s how it can be preserved.”

“I disagree.” Koshijiro said. “Noh and Kabuki have their own traditions, but the old ways of kenjutsu are no longer needed. In this era, its form must change, and if it can serve to protect people, it will outlast any instrument of war. Because, no matter what, people grow tired of killing, and yearn for peace.”

And Himura was no exception. “This one will not join you. This one has sworn never to kill again, and a future, where swords are used to take lives, is unacceptable. You can have your school or unit, but if you persecute those who want to protect life with kenjutsu, this one will stop you at all costs.” He was honest, and behind him, Kaoru gave a little smile.

“…I see. Then, this must be settled out in one way.” Isurugi drew his katana.

“Kaoru-dono, please stand back.” Himura told her.

“Be careful.” Then, she slowly retreated towards Koshijiro. Neither Isurugi nor Himura had moved. They were only watching each other, as the wind sent leaves drifting aloft.

Isurugi struck first and Himura drew his sakabato up, to block the attack in midair. A heavy pressure had settled in the air, and the sole sound was from Isurugi’s katana, protesting as he was forced to end his attack and step away.

“Oh, a match between master swordsmen!” Tsukayama interrupted. He was oblivious to the atmosphere, bringing in a tray of tea and setting it on the grass. “Well, don’t mind me, please continue.”

But Isurugi was no longer interested, sheathing his sword and walking past Himura. “If people are going to interfere, we’ll leave our match for later. But don’t forget, join me or be killed.”

Himura had the last word. “This one refuses both.” He left the bridge as well, and Sagara and Yahiko disentangled themselves from the bushes.

“I’m glad it turned out well.” Kaoru breathed a sigh of relief.

Sagara wasn’t as happy, he probably wanted to see more. “Yeah, I guess we’re done here.”

“Although, we’re forgetting something…ah, that brat!” Yahiko suddenly took off.

As it turned out, Yutaro had been tied to a tree in the courtyard. Once he was freed, he made his indignation known. “You bastards! I’ll get you for this, I swear!”

“Shut up!” Yahiko scowled. “If you’re strong enough to scream like that, then come to the Kamiya Kasshin dojo. We’ll have a fight of our own, but with shinai!”

Their departure was accompanied by Yutaro’s glare on their backs.

“You just issued a challenge, you know.” Kaoru admonished her student. “And he probably expects to take our sign.”

“That’s if he wins, which he won’t.”

“Geez, you should take this seriously!”

“Yahiko, listen.” Koshijiro cut in before the boy could talk back. “A challenge means that you put your school’s reputation on the line. In every fight, you represent the Kamiya Kasshin dojo and its ideals. Please remember that, before you act.”

“…fine.”

Himura clapped him on the back. “You are capable, we all know that. However, this opponent is not an undisciplined gangster, but another student of kenjutsu. By challenging Yutaro, you’ve declared your will to defend the sword that protects life. And it is now your responsibility to prove that with your shinai.”

Sagara felt like he needed to join the conversation. “Or if that doesn’t work out, just be a fighter for hire, like I was.”

Yahiko wasn’t fond of that possibility. “And be like you? No way!”

“Hey!”

It must have been around dawn, when Koshijiro was woken by a loud shout.

“Alright, I’m here, you shrimp! Come out!”

In his grogginess, it took him a moment to place who it was. It was Tsukayama’s son, probably here for his match with Yahiko. But this early?

Footsteps shuffled, most likely the other three moving about in the house. Koshijiro rose, grudgingly realizing he wouldn’t get much more sleep. The darkness in the hallway was gradually receding, as the sun began to leave the horizon. Near the open door, Kaoru was rubbing her eyes, and Himura leaned against the wall.

Yahiko’s voice was a little hoarse. “Do you know what time it is?”

“You never said when, so let’s fight now!”

“Get dressed…first…” Kaoru yawned.

A few minutes later, they had gathered in the dojo. Koshijiro took a seat, taking deep breaths to dissipate the lingering drowsiness. Yahiko was in uniform, looking more awake. “Hey, Kaoru, judge for us.”

She was still half-asleep, slapping her own cheeks in an effort to be more alert. “First round.”

“Let’s go!” Yutaro held the shinai before him, but it was glaringly wrong and Yahiko pointed it out. Kaoru demonstrated with her own.

“You grip it with the hands separated, the left at the bottom and the right below the hilt.”

“I-I train with real swords, so I don’t know any shinai grips.”

“There’s no such thing.” Koshijiro automatically said, and Himura added.

“It would be the same grip on a sword.”

An awkward pause followed.

“So you really don’t know how to fight with a shinai? And you still came all the way here?” Yahiko scoffed, incredulous. Yutaro flinched, and he continued. “Don’t tell me you got up this early, so you’d win before we figured it out.”

“Your teacher hasn’t been training you?” Himura approached Yutaro.

“It’s not his fault.” He was quick to defend Isurugi. “He’s busy, spreading the word of the Shinko school. It’s important for the sake of kenjutsu, so I can’t interfere.”

It was clear that Isurugi was neglecting his student, and the boy didn’t deserve that. Koshijiro felt sorry for him, yet now, he had a small inkling about Isurugi’s ulterior motive…

Kaoru’s gaze softened. “Well, since you’re already here, I’ll just give you a lesson. First, the grip. Move the left hand down, and your pinky right there, catching halfway…”

“Well, I’ll leave it to the master.” He nodded at his daughter, before excusing himself to start on his paperwork for the day.

He didn’t check on the dojo again until mid-morning. Yutaro was already practicing the basic upper-level posture; he was a fast, thorough learner, and Koshijiro could tell how serious he was about the lesson. Kaoru applauded him. “That’s very good, Yutaro.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm, you definitely have talent for this.” The compliment made him grin from ear to ear.

The door slid open, as Himura entered. “It should be time for a break. We haven’t eaten yet, so this one made onigiri.” There were two for each person, wrapped in bamboo sheaths. “Here you are, Kamiya-dono.”

“Thank you.” He took a seat near Yahiko, whose brow was furrowed in irritation.

The boy accepted his portion from Himura, muttering. “Whose side does she think she’s on?” He proceeded to stuff one of the rice balls in his mouth.

“There are no sides in education.” Koshijiro calmly told him. “And did you already finish your lesson?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Himura passed Kaoru her share. “This one thinks Yahiko is sulking.” He murmured to her, and she glanced at her student.

He snapped at her. “What is it?”

She sighed, walking over to give him a lecture. “Yahiko, you shouldn’t be so petty. If more people want to learn about the sword that protects life, that can only be good for the school. Don’t be in such a bad mood.”

He didn’t respond, instead finishing off the last of his second onigiri. Kaoru sent a desperate look at Koshijiro, but he shook his head. She had to learn as well, how to deal with this kind of situation.

Meanwhile, Himura was talking to Yutaro. “Is shinai kenjutsu fun?”

“It’s just playing.”

“Oro!”

“Of course, it’s fun.” He mumbled. “But I’m not doing it any more, playing won’t make me stronger. I want to be unbeatable like Raijuuta-sensei, and show my father.”

“But without practice, you won’t get any stronger.” Kaoru pointed out. After a moment, she offered. “So, why don’t you be a student here?”

“What?!” Yahiko blurted.

She ignored him. “You don’t have to worry about becoming strong or showing anyone your skills. Just think ‘I want to learn kenjutsu’. If you continue training, you can even compete with Yahiko.”

“…no, I’m sorry.” Surprisingly, he declined. He stood and bowed, preparing to leave. “But! I’ll be back tomorrow. N-not to practice, just to see how this guy will fight!” He pointed to Himura. “After all, Raijuuta-sensei wants a match with him, so I’ll keep coming to get information. See ya!” With that, he dashed off.

And so, ten days passed. Yutaro had showed up every day, as promised, but he was still attending lessons. He had progressed well, and it was difficult to tell he had once held a shinai the wrong way. Also, it wasn’t as if he could get much information out of Himura, who only performed his usual routine of housework.

Yahiko still wasn’t pleased. “Back again, you brat? You’re not even a student, why do you keep coming here?!”

“As if I have to answer to you!”

“That’s it, stop fighting! The two of you are here to practice!” Kaoru intervened in their bickering. “Yutaro, you’re practicing the jumping face stroke. Yahiko, you’ll be the target.”

“Why me?” Yahiko complained.

“I’m too tall, it’s better to practice with someone his own height. Now, hurry and put on the mask and everything else. That’s an order from your master! Geez…”

“This is a good opportunity.” Koshijiro spoke up from the sidelines. “Sparring is best between those of similar expertise.”

Grudgingly, Yahiko outfitted himself in the set of practice armor: the face mask, the gloves, the torso protector, and the cloth belt. He stood almost casually, as Yutaro inhaled and prepared himself. The first strike had enough power, although it was only a glancing blow. The second was better, hitting Yahiko’s mask on the forehead. He continued to repeat the movement, and each time, he adjusted and seemed to improve.

“This one is surprised.” Himura had entered at some point, and he commented. “He has a lot of potential.”

“He does, it’s too bad he wasn’t taught properly.” Kaoru agreed. However, Yahiko protested at being hit so many times, and the practice session devolved into yet another shouting match. She gritted her teeth. “That’s enough! Both of you, give me your shinai. No more practice, the two of you are going to clean the dojo, top to bottom.”

“Oro…the master’s discipline is something to be feared.” Still, he gave a slight smile, watching Kaoru direct the boys to the dustiest spots.

Koshijiro deliberately coughed. “It’s about time, they were getting out of hand. And the dojo could use a good scrubbing.”

That evening, they had dinner at the Akabeko. After their drinks were brought out, Sagara had strolled in, joining their table as if he had expected to meet them. The hotpot was as good as always, and the bowls of rice were warm to the touch. There was only a small amount of broth left, when Tsubame shyly paid a visit to their table.

“I wanted to thank you all again.”

“It was our pleasure to help you. Has Nagaoka bothered you again?” Himura inquired.

“No, not at all.”

“If he does, just find us.” Sagara said.

Tsubame nodded, before noticing Yutaro. “Oh, are you a friend of Yahiko-kun’s?”

“Not really. I’m Tsukayama Yutaro.” He extended his hand towards her, in the Western greeting of a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Um…nice to meet you too.” Tsubame hesitantly clasped his fingers for a second.

Yahiko dug his elbow into Yutaro’s ribs, causing him to yelp. “Stop annoying her, let her get back to work.”

“The only annoyance here is you.”

Koshijiro loudly cleared his throat, and they both paused. “The two of you are being disruptive. If you can’t behave, there will be consequences. In comparison, cleaning the dojo would be a warm-up.” Actually, he didn’t have anything in mind yet, but the threat served to subdue them.

The ensuing silence was broken by Kaoru. “Yutaro, I have something to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Would you like to become a student of the Kamiya dojo? You’ve worked hard, and you and Yahiko would become fine swordsmen of the Kamiya Kasshin school.”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, he set down his chopsticks and lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I used to think shinai kenjutsu was stupid, but when I tried it out, it was fun. I really did like training, but if I want to be strong, Raijuuta-sensei can teach me more…”

“I understand.” Kaoru looked downcast, it was always hard to lose a student. Yahiko’s expression was impassive.

The meal was paid for, and their group left the Akabeko, walking through the side streets. It was a quiet, lukewarm evening. Stars shone above, in a river of soft light against the dark sky.

“I first met Raijuuta-sensei on a night like this.” Yutaro suddenly said. “We were on the road home, and the carriage was attacked by bandits. My father…he acted so pathetic, telling them he’d pay whatever they wanted, even kneeling on the ground. But Raijuuta-sensei saved us, just one blow sent the bandits running.”

“He saved you?” Sagara snorted. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Shut it, rooster head! He’s often misunderstood, but I know how he really is. If I’m strong like him, I won’t be weak like my father. Himura-san, if you ever fight Raijuuta-sensei, just make sure it’s fair. A real match.” He turned back to look at them, smiling at the prospect. But his expression quickly changed, to that of fear. “Raijuuta-sensei!”

Koshijiro was suddenly pulled back by Sagara, just as a katana swung down in the middle of the group. Sagara’s other hand was fisted in Yahiko’s collar. On the other side of the road, Himura had retreated, both hands on Kaoru’s shoulders.

“Is everyone alright?” Koshijiro called out, and his daughter nodded as Himura released his grip on her. It was fortunate that Yutaro had alerted them, because the katana had cut a deep line in the earth.

“Making an ambush from behind at night, so this is how you really are.” Sagara’s cocky smile widened.

Yutaro was staring aghast at his teacher. “No! Th-this is just a greeting! You’re not being serious, right, Raijuuta-sensei?”

Isurugi didn’t answer, his focus on Himura.

“Kaoru-dono,” Himura informed her. “This one will face him again this time.”

She seemed anxious, but out of the six of them, Himura was the only one with a weapon. Silently, she stepped aside, and not a moment too soon. Isurugi began to attack Himura, with full force.

Each strike had an immense amount of power behind it, but Isurugi couldn’t connect. Himura had skillfully dodged, and Isurugi turned, snapping his heel to stir up a cloud of loose dirt. But Himura was already in the air, leaping for a strike to the shoulder. Isurugi took the hit…and smiled.

“I guess I’ll use a stronger technique, then. You won’t be able to stop it!”

The tip of his katana wavered, as the shinai had in the Maekawa dojo. Himura pivoted but recoiled, blood seeping through his right sleeve. However, he wasn’t the only casualty. With a strangled gasp, Yutaro suddenly flew backwards. Isurugi’s katana hadn’t touched him, but the impact must have. His right elbow had been sliced open, and they hurried to attend to him.

Koshijiro reached him first. “There’s quite a gash. We should take him to Dr. Gensai, he’s close.”

“Leave him. It’s not a fatal injury.”

“Bastard!” Yahiko cried out. “You just hurt your own student!”

“That child?” He scoffed.

Kaoru was appalled. “What’s with that attitude? You’re his teacher!”

“That was a role I played, to acquire funds for the Shinko school. It’s just too bad to lose him, even after staging that robbery. But I can always find another patron, whose brat wants to play with swords.” He shrugged.

Koshijiro wished he could be outraged, but he wasn’t. He had suspected that Isurugi was just using the Tsukayama family, ever since Yutaro unwittingly revealed he wasn’t being taught. Isurugi was dishonorable, he had proven that multiple times, and this admission didn’t come as a shock. It didn’t change the situation, there would be no point in swaying a man as far gone as Isurugi. For now, they had to help Yutaro.

Himura had decided as much, turning away from Isurugi to carry Yutaro. “Wait there.” His tone was ominous. “You’ll taste hell soon enough.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t run away.” Sagara folded his arms, standing between them and Isurugi. “You’ve screwed up now, you’ve got the most dangerous man alive angry at you.”

Himura’s injury slowed his pace, yet they were fortunate enough to make it to the streets, and Koshijiro called out to a patrolling policeman.

“Send for a carriage, this boy’s hurt.” Koshijiro told the officer, who immediately whistled for one. “After you drop us off, go to the Tsukayama estate and tell his father we’ll be at Dr. Gensai’s clinic.”

Takani met them at the clinic; her gaze went straight to Yutaro’s bleeding arm. “We’ll take it from here. Dr. Gensai! Patient to room three!”

Takani examined him first, while Dr. Gensai stitched Himura’s wounded arm. Then, he joined Takani in the examination room. They waited for close to half an hour, before the doctors emerged.

“He’s asleep from the anesthesia. The cut was wide, but the blood loss wasn’t too bad. You did well, to bring him in so quickly.” That made Kaoru smile, but Takani continued. “Nevertheless, the nerve bundle and muscle have been severed. Ken-san took some of the blow, so Yutaro can keep his arm, but it won’t be very functional. He’s your student? Then, to put it simply, it’s unlikely he’ll practice kenjutsu ever again.”

The prognosis made Kaoru recoil in shock, but Koshijiro inclined his head. “I see. Thank you, for doing your best to save him. When he wakes, we’ll inform him.” He didn’t look forward to breaking the news. It meant the end of Yutaro’s dream of training in kenjutsu. His daughter was still stricken, Himura somber.

Yahiko refused to accept this. “But he was doing great, he was a genius or close to it! Come on, you can do something, can’t you?”

“I’m so sorry, Yahiko.” Takani was sympathetic, gently clasping his shoulder. “It’s hard, but medicine can be imperfect.”

He broke away, tearing off into the night. Himura took that as his cue, rising from the clinic’s spare bed. “Then, this one will go.”

“Are you able to fight, Kenshin?” Kaoru glanced at his bandaged arm.

“Yes, and this one knows the secret behind the Izuna technique. It’s a wave of a vacuum, but this one didn’t realize until now, with Yutaro’s injury. The only way to make amends for that is to defeat Isurugi Raijuuta.” He headed out, his determined figure following the same path Yahiko had taken.

Minutes later, Yutaro stirred, and he tried to leave his bed. Kaoru urged him to lie down again.

“How are you feeling?”

“I can’t feel my hand. Raijuuta-sensei did this to me…” The betrayal had hit him hard.

“Yutaro…”

He jerked his head to address Koshijiro. “What’s it like having one arm? Do you feel useless?”

He gave an honest answer. “Sometimes, I wish that I could do more, to protect the ones I care for. Instead, I must rely on them.”

“Oh.” Yutaro’s voice was very small.

“But I’ve gained a different kind of strength. I’m glad to be alive, and I work in other ways, to do my part in making this era peaceful. As for physical demands, I can put my trust in my daughter, Himura-san, Yahiko, Sagara-san, and Takani-san. You have your father, and although you don’t think highly of him, he is still your father. He wants the best for you, which is why he has pursued the career he has. If you speak with him, you may find that out for yourself. You may even learn to have faith in him again. And unlike me, you still have your arm intact. There is still hope for you.”

Then, Tsukayama burst into the room, and he anxiously fussed over his son, who remained stubbornly mute. Koshijiro excused himself, motioning Kaoru to do the same.

Sagara, Yahiko, and Himura had been waiting outside the clinic, the latter with more bandaged wounds.

“Isurugi Raijuuta was arrested by the police.” Sagara explained. “Kenshin beat him with just one arm.”

“His self-confidence was shattered, he’ll never pick up a sword again. But that won’t heal Yutaro.” He quietly said, and he was right. No one else could reply to that, and the journey home was marked by enveloping silence, and the cold starlight overhead.

During the following days, they visited the Tsukayama estate. Yutaro had enclosed himself in his room, unwilling to accept any visitors. On his behalf, the manservant graciously accepted the food they had brought.

Kaoru was still troubled. “Kamiya Kasshin is the sword that protects life, but what should we do when something like this happens? It’s a tragedy, and I don’t know what to say…” She trailed off.

“For now, we should honor his wish to be alone. It will take time for him to adjust.” Koshijiro explained. When he had lost his arm, he was only relieved to be alive, but Yutaro was a child and this development would have devastated him.

Tsukayama met them at the gate. The recent events had changed him, lending a weariness in his eyes and a slump to his posture. Then, he spoke to Koshijiro. “You were once a samurai, weren’t you?”

Samurai. He had not considered himself to be one for many years. “The branch I belonged to was not high-ranking.”

“I was the same, but you must have had connections, to have a school of your own. I didn’t, all I had was an eye for swords so I became a merchant. The ruin of the four classes made me a fortune, but I’m no better than a dog. I made a living out of bowing to others. That’s why I wanted my son to be strong, and I was fooled by Isurugi, at the cost of Yutaro’s dreams.” He was genuinely regretful.

Himura attempted a reassuring smile. “…we’ll pay another visit soon.”

“Thank you, but we may not be here. I’ve decided to go to Germany, and I’m taking Yutaro with me.” At their surprised faces, he continued. “It’s the most advanced country in terms of medicine, and if Yutaro can be healed, his best chances lie there. Also, living in a foreign land can take his mind off kenjutsu. I don’t know when we’ll return to Japan, but we’ll be leaving at the end of the week, at Shinbashi Station. I think Yutaro would appreciate it, if you came to see us off.”

Who could say no to that? And so, they waited at the crimson building, sitting on wooden benches.

“Well, he’s finally getting out of the house, but what else can we do?” Sagara wondered aloud.

Koshijiro shared his opinion. “It depends on Yutaro. Unfortunately, I think he interprets gentleness as pity, and his pride won’t accept that. However, it’s important not to push him. Right now, he’s emotionally fragile, and if he doesn’t want to talk, we have to respect that.”

A carriage pulled up, and Tsukayama and his son disembarked. They were dressed in Western shirts and trousers, Yutaro with a sling for his injured arm and a cane for additional support.

Tsukayama greeted them. “Thank you again, for everything you’ve done. Come, Yutaro, say goodbye.”

Yutaro’s head was lowered, and he didn’t respond. Then, the conductor called for passengers to board, and the crowd began to stir. Without much of a choice, Tsukayama led his son towards the train.

Suddenly, Yahiko sprinted after them. “Yutaro!” He raised his shinai, and Yutaro was forced to use his cane to parry.

“What the-?!”

“Don’t tell me you’re just going to give up! Raijuuta may have betrayed you, but you should become stronger than him! Not the person he really was, but the teacher you believed in! Otherwise, you’ll be pathetic for the rest of your life!”

Yahiko’s words were rough, but perhaps, that was the key in motivating Yutaro. He gritted his teeth. “Who’s pathetic? I’ll never quit kenjutsu! If my right arm’s not good enough, I’ll use my left and that’ll be enough to deal with you!” Once again, they started to argue, as they usually did. But it wasn’t a nuisance this time, and Koshijiro smiled. Maybe, the goal of beating Isurugi’s shadow was spiteful and petty, yet for a young boy like Yutaro, it was enough of a reason to keep living. Or at least, until he was more mature.

“Ah, there was nothing to worry about after all.” Himura murmured.

Yutaro and his father boarded the train, and Kaoru called out. “We’ll keep the position of second student waiting for you!”

“You’d better come back.” Yahiko darkly added, but there was an underlying kindness in his tone. Yutaro’s eyes widened, then he relaxed, understanding.

They waved, as the train pulled out of the station. Smoke billowed in its wake, and then, the train was only a speck in the distance, before disappearing altogether.

Sagara stretched his arms. “Well, if we came all the way here, let’s get some Western food.”

“You just want to freeload again.” Kaoru griped, before noticing Himura’s thoughtful expression. “Kenshin? Is there something wrong?”

“It’s nothing. This one was only thinking about how pessimistic Maekawa-sensei and Raijuuta were, about the future of kenjutsu. But the Kamiya Kasshin school and its students make that future bright.”

Kaoru smiled. “Mm, you’re right about that.” She nudged Himura, and he didn’t back away as they walked towards the building.

Their elbows were still touching.

Koshijiro strode between them, ignoring the flash of displeasure in his daughter’s eyes. “Yes, the new era promises a great deal of change, and we’ll all see it through, for as long as we can.”

The government had changed hands, the social structure was reconstructed, and now, they were in a transitional time for kenjutsu. He couldn’t fathom what it would become in the years ahead, but embracing the flow of time was the only way to move forward without regrets. Although, he could have done without Western cuisine. The “Hayashi rice” dish they ate for lunch was too rich for his taste.

Chapter Text

Koshijiro frowned, looking through the documents again. The newest arrest had been for opium possession, and as expected, he wasn’t talking on where he had bought it. The price on the streets was high, ever since Takeda Kanryuu was taken into custody and addicts moved from one dealer to the next. The man in custody was no different, and he had purchased opium at an exorbitant amount.

It was expensive enough to be suspicious.

Two of Koshijiro’s officers had gathered evidence of the man’s salary from his employer, confirming that the addict could have paid the high price. But they had to find the dealer, to get a better grasp on the situation before anyone else was hurt. He filed the papers away, and rose from his desk, addressing his colleagues.

“I’m leaving early today, I won’t be back.” Dr. Gensai was stopping by the house in the afternoon, to check on his physical condition. Tomorrow was Friday, his day off, so he wouldn’t return to the station until next week. “Thank you for your work so far.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Kamiya-san!” That was the general chorus, as he made his departure.

At midday, Tokyo was bustling. On both sides of the street, pedestrians strolled, carrying groceries home or perusing the shops. The workers called out, recommending lacquerware, fresh food, or the latest newspaper.

“If you don’t have enough money, shoo!” Nearby, a stall owner had raised his voice, drawing Koshijiro’s attention. His wares were inexpensive metal items, and he was flapping his hand at a petite customer wearing a travel-worn cloak.

“Come on, have some mercy. I just need a new canteen!” The voice sounded high and sweet.

“No means no, miss!”

It was unfair to the poor woman, and Koshijiro shouldered his way to the stall. “Excuse me. I’d like to pay for her.” At the sight of his money purse, the owner relented, removing a small aluminum canteen from the rest.

She looked up at Koshijiro, her eyes bright. “Thank you very much, sir!” Now that he was closer, he could see that she was just a girl, around Kaoru’s age or maybe even younger. “And thanks to you too.” She cheekily said to the stall owner, taking her new purchase. The other man huffed, turning to the next customer.

Koshijiro politely replied to the girl. “It was no trouble. If you’re a tourist, I can provide directions.”

“That’d be great! So, do you know where a large mansion is? I’m, uh, interested in Western architecture.”

Takeda’s home came to mind, especially since it had been cleaned up, in preparation to be sold off. “The only one I can think of is on the outskirts of town. If you keep an eye on the street signs, you can orient yourself.” He pivoted, pointing down the road. His mind traced the route to the mansion, as he explained where and how she should turn. “That should bring you to the gates of the mansion.” He was helping her this much, but he felt obligated to do so; she was the same age as his daughter and traveling alone.

“I see.” He almost bumped into her, she was already on the move. “Then, that’s where I’ll go.” She nodded, her expression set in determination.

“If you find that you’re lost, you can also ask the officers on patrol, for assistance.”

“I’ll be fine!” She waved. “Thank you again!” And then, she slipped through the crowd, lowering her cloaked head. Koshijiro didn’t spot her after that, and feeling satisfied, he continued on. He didn’t notice anything else, until a voice called out.

“Otou-san? Otou-san, over here!” Kaoru waved to him, from the other side of the street. Because Yahiko was at the Akabeko for the morning, she was still clad in the yellow kimono she wore at breakfast. Himura was at her side, his hands tucked into his sleeves.

Koshijiro headed over, weaving through the other pedestrians. “I’ve just left the station.”

“Isn’t it still early? Your appointment is at three.”

“This current case is rather difficult, and I had to stop, before being caught up.”

“That’s understandable.” Himura said. “Then, would you like to join us? We can all go back together.”

“It’ll be short, we just needed more daikon strips.” Kaoru added. “The shop is only a block away.”

“Very well.” He conceded, and walked behind Himura and his daughter. There was a respectable distance between the two of them.

When they arrived at the shop, Kaoru ordered the amount they needed. The dried daikon had been cut into strips and arranged in a box, tied in a cloth. As Himura accepted the container, Koshijiro stepped forward. “I’ll pay for today.” He reached into his shirt…and came up empty. “Hm?”

The shop owner was beginning to look impatient, and Kaoru hurriedly handed over the sum of money, before herding them back into the street. Koshijiro was still searching for his wallet, to no avail.

“Otou-san, did you leave it at your work desk?”

“No, I had it with me when I…paid for that girl’s canteen.” He furrowed his brow. For his generosity, he had been robbed! “She was around your age, Kaoru, and she didn’t have enough money. I even gave her directions.”

“And she took advantage of you, it seems.” Himura was sympathetic. “Should we try and find her?”

“It isn’t worth it. I didn’t have too much in there, only enough for my lunch tomorrow.”

“This one can make you a bento box. It would be cheaper that way.”

“I suppose so.”

“And it was old, I’ll buy you a new one.” Kaoru looked excited, to be treating him. “What color? Is there a pattern you’d like? Or what about a leather one, like the kind that Westerners use?”

“No, nothing that extravagant. But I’ll leave the color and pattern to you.”

“Alright!” Leading the way, with confidence and her own money purse in hand, his daughter was acting like the head of the household. And if her boarder used to be an assassin, it didn’t show. Just now, he had seemed more like a thrifty housewife.

Koshijiro let out a sigh. And he felt old, readily deceived and needing to be attended to. No, wait, he still had years left in him. Today was only…an exception. This gloomy spell could be blamed on the difficult case at work.

“Otou-san, this way!” Kaoru beckoned him, and he picked up his pace. She held up her chosen item, then offered it to him. “I was thinking that this one would be perfect. See, it’s navy blue, so stains won’t show.”

“It’s a good color.” Himura nodded in approval. “And it is for a reasonable price.”

“Then, I can’t disagree.” Koshijiro turned the wallet in his hand, thoroughly examining it. “Yes, the fabric’s sturdy and the stitching’s excellent. I’ll take it.” His daughter was grinning from ear to ear as she paid. With the transaction settled, they walked on, heading for home. The number of people around them gradually lessened, and there was more room to breathe.

Kaoru’s ponytail swung, her attention drawn to the other side of the street. “Sanosuke? What are you doing here?”

Sagara was standing in front of a stall, and he gave a cursory nod as they approached. “Picking out nishiki-e.”

Koshijiro surveyed the arrangement of pictures. The majority were ink-based portraits, and carefully stacked and separated by the artist. “These are good, for amateur works.”

“Got an eye for them, old man?”

“I’m no expert, but my father’s hobby made it impossible to be ignorant of art. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Like a beautiful woman?” Kaoru referred to the most common subject of these portraits.

“No.”

“Then, what about something erotic?” Himura suggested.

“K-kenshin!” Kaoru spluttered, her face reddening. He only maintained his good-natured smile.

Sagara shook his head. “No again. I’m looking for works by someone named Tsunan. Tae said I could pay off some of my tab, if I got her and Tsubame a couple of pictures. Do you have any more of Iba Hachiro?” He asked the merchant.

“Yes, these are the last two. Tsunan’s works sell out fast, he’s getting popular.”

“Thanks.” Sagara said, but he froze, his eyes locked onto another portrait. “Who made that one?”

It was of a young man, with a gentle face and the uniform of the Sekihoutai. His figure took up much of the foreground, so that the two small boys on either side of him seemed like late additions. “That’s one of Sagara Souzou, also by Tsunan.” The merchant explained. “But it’s not selling, as expected. That guy from the false government army-” Knowing Sagara’s history with the faction, Kaoru and Himura hushed the merchant, urging him to keep quiet. But Sagara didn’t react, still staring at the picture.

“I’ll take that one too, and I’ll give you a tip if you tell me where Tsunan is!” He was strangely worked up, and offering more money was uncharacteristic of him.

“Er, I’ll give you the address. I’ll warn you, he hates people, so he won’t see you.” He scribbled it on a sheet of paper, and Sagara snatched it with the rest of his purchases, before storming off.

“It’s unusual, how excited he is. Perhaps, he recognizes Tsunan.” Koshijiro mused.

“We can find out more, if we follow him.” Kaoru’s eyes glinted with curiosity, and she followed Sagara’s trail.

Himura smiled at Koshijiro. “Well, there’s no harm.” And so, they went after her.

Their destination was at the edge of town, one of the many row houses, yet Sagara confidently rapped his knuckles against the door. “Tsukioka-san! Are you there?” He paused to listen, before taking a deep breath and giving a solid kick. “I know you’re there, Tsukioka Katsuhiro!”

The door slammed open, revealing a young man who looked as if he hadn’t seen sunlight in days. His eyes were shadowed under the paisley cloth wrapped around his forehead, and his hair was unevenly cut. He absently blinked at Sagara, who smirked in triumph.

“I was right, you were the one who drew this.” He tapped the picture he had bought for himself, to the two boys. “That’s me and you, behind the captain. No one else could have known, how he took us in like his own.”

At once, Tsukioka relaxed, even smiling. “You’re right about that.” They started to talk in earnest.

“Let’s go home.” Himura said, quietly retreating.

Kaoru was reluctant. “Shouldn’t we meet him, Sano’s friend?”

“It’s best not to. We may have followed him because we were concerned, but his past with the Sekihoutai is special to him. In a place of such memories, there’s no need for strangers.”

Koshijiro agreed. “Yes, let’s leave them to catch up with each other. And we need to be home before Dr. Gensai arrives. Come, Kaoru.”

She didn’t move right away, gazing at Himura’s back. “Yeah, okay.”

They were on time to meet Dr. Gensai, and Koshijiro was pronounced to be in good health. However, they didn’t see Sagara again. Most likely, he was still speaking with his friend, into the late hours of an unusually chilly night.

He didn’t resurface until the next morning, offhandedly apologizing to them in the courtyard. “Sorry for running off on you guys. Actually, I’ve known Tsunan since we were kids, but we lost touch, so this is the first time we’ve met in ten years.”

“You’re joking!” Kaoru exclaimed, and Himura stopped chopping wood to join in the charade.

“Tsunan’s your old friend?”

Sagara was unconvinced. “You don’t sound that surprised.”

“Of course we are. Aren’t we, Kaoru-dono?” His carefree smile widened as he turned to her.

“Really surprised, Kenshin.”

Well, their acting was a little over the top, and they could have done so further apart. Nevertheless, Koshijiro decided it was best not to say anything, and only sipped his tea, keeping a stoic face. Yahiko picked up on his lack of irritation, and leapt next to him on the porch. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” He also feigned ignorance, and the boy ground his teeth together. But before Yahiko could elaborate, Sagara shrugged and continued.

“Well, whatever. I want to host a party for him tonight.”

“It sounds like you want to hold it here.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Well, the more the merrier. And he hasn’t enjoyed himself once, in the past ten years. He’s gotta be lonely.”

“That’s fine, but how will you pay for it? Are you going to sponge off me again?” Kaoru’s expression darkened, and she subconsciously raised her shinai.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll cover everything. Oh, and tell Tae and the little girl to come. The fox woman too. It’ll be fun. I’m going to order the food now, so see ya.” Then, he was off again, leaving them stunned. Sagara was acting…responsible? For once?

“Strange…” Kaoru spoke first, and she turned to Himura, grabbing him by the collar. “This is strange! Do you think he’s sick?!”

“Oro…! Please, calm down…”

It was strange, but Koshijiro assumed that the young man was in a good mood, after reuniting with his friend. He knew what that was like. A gathering would be a welcome distraction from the current state of work, especially if the expenses were handled by Sagara. They would have to take advantage of his newfound generosity. Who knew how long it would last? “If we’re having guests, I might as well invite Dr. Gensai, to repay him for yesterday.” Koshijiro heaved himself to his feet. “And Kaoru, that’s enough. Let go of Himura-san.”

Yahiko shook his head. “It’s spring, that’s what’s making everyone so weird. All the pollen in the air.”

The dojo had been scrubbed clean and freshly waxed for the impromptu party. Koshijiro had just finished arranging the cushions in a wide oval, when Tae and Tsubame arrived with sake and two bento boxes.

“Ah, thank you, although you didn’t have to cook.”

“We couldn’t come empty-handed.” Tae beamed. “It’s only a few vegetable dishes and fried tofu. But it looks like we’re the first ones to arrive.”

While they removed their shoes, Tsubame shyly asked. “Will Tsunan really be here?”

“Yes, Sagara-san left to meet him. They’ll be along later.” He ushered them inside. The sun was nearly past the horizon, and he closed the door to keep the draft out. “Please, sit down.”

In the meantime, preparations continued. Himura had brewed plenty of tea, and in the dojo, Kaoru made conversation, inquiring about business at the Akabeko. From the kitchen’s open doorway, Yahiko frequently looked over, clearly yearning to speak to Tsubame.

“Go on, Yahiko. This one will be fine here.” Himura assured him.

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes, and take these cups with you. That will be all.” As the boy eagerly took the tray, Koshijiro stepped out of his way. He glanced inside the kitchen, noticing Himura was not only making tea.

“Are those umeboshi rice balls?” Each pickled fruit was wrapped in rice and nori seaweed.

“Oro, they’re good hangover cures. This one has also measured out the miso and rice for tomorrow’s breakfast. It will be a light meal.” He was already considering the consequences of freely flowing sake.

“I see.” Koshijiro thought for a moment, and then, he looked for the packets of stomach medicine, moving them next to the onigiri on the shelf. “Himura-san, if anyone needs medicine, it will be here.”

“Thank you, Kamiya-dono.”

“Hey, someone, open the gate! The party won’t start otherwise!” Sagara was calling, and Koshijiro went to let them in. He was met with Sagara, grinning as he balanced a platter of sushi in each hand. Tsunan quietly hung in his shadow, with a large plate of sashimi and a box under his other arm. Koshijiro assumed it held more bottles of sake.

The food and drinks were set in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the cushions. Koshijiro took the spot nearest to the door, with Tae and Kaoru on either side of him. Himura, he noticed, had taken the remaining cushion beside Kaoru. Across from him, Sagara wiped his brow and clapped his hands together. “Alright, this looks more like it! Thanks for the side dishes.” The last he said to Tae. “And sorry I still haven’t paid off all of my tab. How about this? Katsu here will draw anything you like.” He jabbed a thumb at Tsukioka.

Tae’s eyes lit up, as she touched Tsubame’s shoulder. “Really? Then, could you please draw the two of us?”

“If you want.” Tsukioka shrugged. He asked for some ink and paper, and quickly set to work. He kept to a single corner, turned away from everyone else and drawing from memory alone. Despite the candlelight, darkness crept in that area, as night fell upon the house. He didn’t face them again until half an hour later. “Here.”

The sketches were quite good; Tae marveled over the detail and how natural her portrait looked, while Tsubame breathed ‘thank you’. Tsukioka stiffly nodded in response.

There was a polite knock at the door, and Koshijiro excused himself to let their last guests in.

Whether Koshijiro thought there was enough liquor already or not, it didn’t matter, for Dr. Gensai had a bottle in each hand. “Good evening, everyone! Oh, girls, don’t make trouble!” He warned his granddaughters, who eagerly ran into the house.

Ayame and Suzume clamored around Kaoru, overjoyed to see her. “Kaoru-nee, Kaoru-nee!”

“I’m happy to see you too!” She smiled, taking each by the hand and showing them the assortment of sushi.

“Come in, welcome.” Koshijiro opened the door wider, and the doctor inclined his head in apology.

“Sorry we’re late. It’s just that my son and daughter-in-law are busy tonight, so I’m taking care of the girls. And Takani had one last patient.”

“It’s no trouble. Hello, Takani-san.”

“Hello, Kamiya-san.” She skirted around Dr. Gensai, clearly eyeing the unoccupied cushion next to Himura. “Thank you for the invitation.” But before she reached her desired seat, Ayame and Suzume piled onto the cushion, exuberantly greeting “Ken-nii”. She pursed her lips, having to settle for the seat between the ten-year-olds.

Dr. Gensai raised one bottle, before handing it to Koshijiro. “I’m looking forward to this. Let’s drink up!”

Koshijiro managed a smile; they both knew the doctor was a lightweight. “Well…let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Everyone began to fill their cups and plates, and it was silent until Takani flashed a coy glance to Sagara. “It’s so strange for us to be treated by you. I wonder if you’ve come across some dirty money.”

“Ha, you haven’t changed!” He snorted.

“I was about to say the same to you.”

“Look at you two, you’re so alike.” Yahiko couldn’t help teasing them. “A great couple, right here! Ow!” They both smacked him, and Himura intervened.

“There, there. This is a party, so let’s get along.”

The fried tofu and vegetables were very good, especially the braised lotus root. Koshijiro was also partial to the tuna nigiri, each piece fresh and firm. When he set down his chopsticks at last, his daughter poured him a cup of sake.

“Thank you, Kaoru.” He tried a sip, and was slightly taken aback. It wasn’t as diluted as he had expected. If the other bottles were like this, they’d be completely wiped out before midnight. But still…the flavor wasn’t bad.

“You’re welcome! Tae, would you like a refill?”

“Oh, I’m fine for now.” Tae’s cup was already half full, and she lifted it to take another sip. “Hm? Tsubame, do you want a taste?”

The girl had been glancing at the clear liquid, and she startled when she was addressed. “Um…no, thank you.” She was still rather shy.

The others were beginning to loosen up, thanks to the rice wine. Sagara cheerfully offered Yahiko the bottle in his hand. “Hey, Yahiko, try some.”

“Uh, does it taste good?”

Kaoru noticed the exchange, protesting. “Yahiko, you’re too young!”

“On second thought, here!” He thrust his cup towards Sagara, and then observed the sake with interest.

“Put it down, please, Yahiko.” Koshijiro sternly said. In a few years, he could drink with supervision, but right now, he wasn’t old enough to be drinking for pleasure. Also, he suspected Sagara’s bottle was very undiluted.

“Fine…but after I try a sip.” After a moment, the boy gagged.

Kaoru sighed. “Didn’t we tell you? Come on, have some water.”

The night went on. Gradually, the chopsticks were set down, and the bottles were handled more frequently. Sagara poured Koshijiro a second cup, which somehow emptied faster. Tae offered a third, and he decided not to decline.

“You’re not a bad drinker!” Sagara crowed. He was laughing louder than usual, but other than that, he seemed fine. It was in stark contrast to Dr. Gensai, who was already out of commission and snoring on an extra pillow.

“Well…it’s my limit for now. I’ll get the doctor a blanket.” And perhaps, a few more, if anyone else fell asleep.

Outside, the silence brought instant relief, and Koshijiro inhaled deeply. The cool air cleared some of the alcohol’s effect. While it was nice to have the dojo this noisy again, his ears definitely needed a break. He entered the house, bumping into the wall only once before returning the way he came.

Now, Yahiko was sprawled on the floor, and Koshijiro draped the topmost blanket over him. After ensuring the same for Dr. Gensai, he piled the rest in a corner. He had to step around Tsukioka, who was pouring sake for himself. Sagara’s friend was so quiet and solitary, Koshijiro briefly wondered if they had overwhelmed him with this party. “How are you, Tsukioka-san?”

“…I’m perfectly alright.” His reply was cool. “Just a little tired.”

“I see. Then, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He gave a polite nod, and returned to his cushion.

His cup had been refilled again, and this one…was not diluted. Which bottle had it come from? He narrowed his gaze, surveying the area. Maybe, he’d figure it out, after his head stopped spinning from the sake’s strength.

Tsubame had nodded off, and Tae tucked a blanket around her. Ayame and Suzume, kept awake by the party’s excitement, had taken the brushes and ink to doodle. Giggling between themselves, they rushed to the nearest wall, pretending to frame their pictures. Kaoru encouraged them; she must have had a cup or two, but she directed the bottle in her hand to her left.

“Oh, Kenshin, I can pour you some.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, holding his cup for her.

Takani seized her chance, moving to the cushion the little girls had abandoned. “Kaoru, you don’t know how? Here, let me teach you.” In an instant, she snatched the sake and the opportunity. “There you go, Ken-san.”

“Ah…” He tentatively sipped, and Takani practically glowed.

Kaoru scowled and took another bottle, to fill her cup close to the brim. “Fine! I’ll just drink by myself!” She tossed back the sake in one go.

Himura reached out to her, concerned. “Kaoru-dono…you shouldn’t drink so much.”

“Leave me alone!” Then, she hiccupped, clasping a hand over her mouth.

“By the way,” Koshijiro spoke up, deciding to educate Himura. “Kaoru takes after her mother, when it comes to drinking.”

“…and was she a good drinker?”

“Not at all, Kyoko was an utter lightweight. It always went straight to her head.” She was so cheerful though, when she was drunk, and laughed until she was breathless. A wave of melancholy overcame him at the memory, and he downed another shot to chase it away.

“Oro! Then…” Himura nervously looked towards Kaoru. Her face had turned a deep shade of red.

“Ken-shin.” She directed a ferocious glare at him. Just as suddenly, her temper fizzled, and she frowned, continuing to hiccup. “I’m all sweaty. It’s from kenjutsu-hic! Because I can’t cook, or pour sake, and now I can’t even drink without-hic!”

Himura’s eyes widened. “Oro, she also takes after you, Kamiya-dono.”

“Oh, well.” It was a callous reply, and he enjoyed the redhead’s incredulous expression.

Kaoru’s temper resurged. “Hey! I was talking, Kenshin!”

“Yes, and it isn’t good to say such things about yourself.”

“But…but! I won’t lose at…” Her sentence dissolved into a fit of laughter, confusing Himura. “Never mind! It’s too embarrassing!”

“Go for it!” Sagara jumped into the conversation. “Let’s hear it!”

Takani huffed. “You all smell of alcohol. I’m done, I’m going to get some rest.”

“Aw, come on, we’re just getting started. One more drink, I’ll even pour for you.”

“Only half a cup.” She said, sitting down next to him. His motor skills were still intact, he didn’t spill a drop.

“There you go. Not so bad, huh, fox woman?”

“Hmph, for a rooster-head.”

Koshijiro must have dozed off in the next instant, because the next thing he knew, he was startling awake, around fifteen minutes later. Takani had taken a corner to herself, her head turned aside. Ayame and Suzume had tired themselves out as well, sharing a blanket near Tae. It seemed like Himura and Sagara just finished a drinking bout, the latter urging a continuation.

“You can keep going, can’t you?”

“No, this is it for this one.” He wiped his mouth, grinning. “Tsukioka-dono, could you take this one’s place?”

“No, thank you.” The artist spoke in a monotone.

Kaoru wasn’t satisfied. “Come on, drink up and you’ll be happy just like us!” She beamed and threw her arm around Himura, bringing her cheek close to his. He held up his cup, smiling even more.

“Yes, join us!”

The sight irked Koshijiro, for some reason. Ah yes, the rule. He tried to get up, about to admonish the two of them, but he never did. Liquid splashed all over his front, the strong smell of alcohol searing his nostrils.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Kamiya-san!” Tae slapped a cloth napkin onto his soaked shirt. “That was clumsy of me. I hope you can change into different clothes…in fact, you should go right now!”

He blinked. “…I suppose so.” It wouldn’t do, to sleep in wet clothes. Slowly, he stood and headed for the door.

“’s late. Good night.” Kaoru rubbed at her eyes, before crawling over to the youngest girls. “There’s room here, but I can’t share their blanket.”

“This one will get another for you.” Himura rose, and his footsteps were soundless.

Meanwhile, she was staring at him, her eyes glazed over, and Koshijiro didn’t recognize the expression his daughter had. But it was brief, melting away as soon as Himura faced her again. “Thanks, Kenshin. And Otou-san, it’s so cold.”

He was holding the door ajar, letting the wind in. “Sorry. I’ll be back.”

Stumbling back to the house was a blur, and changing even more so. He kept missing his left sleeve, plucking at it only for it to escape his grip. He also couldn’t forget Kaoru’s strange face, when there was just Himura in her line of sight, and he was turned around, so she could only see-

Koshijiro stopped, frowning. He felt like he was about to conclude something…? The words ‘improper’ and ‘ogle’ were in his head, but…why, exactly? Well, he’d remember in the morning. Hopefully.

Eventually, he managed to dress, and as he slowly approached the dojo, the ringing in his ears told him that it was much quieter. He almost tripped over Himura, sitting near the door with his head bowed. Sagara was propped up against the wall, and Tsukioka had curled into a ball, breathing evenly.

Koshijiro staggered around, checking that the blankets were neat. He pulled up a folded edge against Kaoru’s shoulder, to ward off the cold. Then, he dragged the last blanket over himself, and found enough space to lie on his side. He nodded once, twice, and then, he stopped fighting and gave in to sleep.

Koshijiro felt the pain first. It was an incessant drilling, against the inside of his skull. He tried to lift his head, but his neck protested. That was what came from sleeping on the floor. And his mouth tasted terrible. With great effort, he forced himself to sit up.

“Oh, Kamiya-san, you’re awake.” That was Yahiko’s voice, and Koshijiro turned to see him scrubbing the floor. The dishes had been cleared, and the blankets gone, most likely in the laundry. The dojo was aglow with sunshine, it must have been mid-morning already. It was also empty, save for Yahiko, who scrambled to his feet and peered outside. “Hey, Kaoru!”

“I said not to yell!” She retorted, from somewhere around the yard.

“But your dad’s up now.”

She hurried inside, and she looked alert, no worse for the wear after an evening of drinking. “Good morning, Otou-san. Can you eat something yet? Or at least drink tea?” When he nodded, she was already on her way out. “Don’t move!”

It was quiet again, and Yahiko shifted in place. “Er, how’s your stomach?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” He coughed, his throat dry.

“That’s good, I didn’t feel so great this morning. But Kenshin made me take some medicine, and it worked. He said you thought of it beforehand, so thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The corners of his mouth lifted, and Yahiko gave a tentative smile.

Kaoru entered, with a tray of tea, a bowl of miso, and two umeboshi rice balls. “Here you are, Otou-san. Yahiko, can you help out Kenshin? We need more firewood.”

“Sure.”

While Kaoru unwrapped the onigiri, Koshijiro inquired. “Has everyone else left?”

“Yeah, Sano took Tsunan back to his place last night, that’s what Kenshin said. Dr. Gensai’s son came here, he wasn’t too happy about the drinking, but he calmed down after seeing the girls. Megumi left with them, and Tae and Tsubame just ten minutes ago. I told Yahiko to let you sleep, since you haven’t gotten enough rest in a while.”

“Thank you.” Something nagged at him, and he tried to recall why. It involved Kaoru, and a word or two, but the memory eluded him, as if it were a dream he had forgotten upon waking.

“Otou-san?” He looked up, to see her cross her arms. “Your tea’s going to get cold, so stop frowning and have breakfast.”

“…you’re right.” The tea and miso cleared away the nasty taste in his mouth, and the pickled plums were refreshing.

He decided not to strain himself, and he watched Kaoru teach Yahiko the basic stances of traditional kenjutsu. At some point, Himura finished with his household tasks and joined in observing them.

“Did you enjoy the party, Kamiya-dono?”

“I did, but I wouldn’t want another any time soon. I can’t handle sake as well as I once did.” He paused. “However, the onigiri was very good.”

Himura’s smile widened. “This one is glad to hear that.”

Sagara stopped by after lunch, yet he was quieter than usual. He didn’t joke around as much, choosing to sit on the front steps in contemplative silence. Himura suggested they leave him be, and no one could rouse him out of it, until Takani happened to pass in front of the open gate. She was on her way to another patient, she explained, yet she stopped and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, where’s your friend?” She asked. “Or was he scared off because of the party?”

“Well, we’ve grown apart. It’s been ten years after all.” He shrugged. “But he’s thinking about writing an illustrated newspaper, critiquing the government. Well, I don’t really care for that, but if it’s what he wants…” He trailed off, a slight smile on his face.

And so, the leisurely weekend ended, and Koshijiro returned to his work with renewed vigor. His officers were eagerly discussing a report about an assault on the Department of Internal Affairs. But it was resolved in the same night, and he had to repeatedly remind them, that the department had more urgent issues.

Over the next three days, progress was made on the opium finances case, as several men had taken to calling it. A squad had found the dealer and raided his house for the money. It wouldn’t be taken into a bank, a pile of cash like that would draw the suspicions of any officer. But to be sure, Koshijiro calculated the finances himself, and once again, to double check. It was still odd. Despite the dealer’s obvious success, it was short by about a third, compared to how much the addicts had paid.

Either there were more addicts that the police hadn’t discovered yet or…the money was elsewhere.

He reported his findings to the chief. “We should gather evidence on all of the dealer’s activities. Find out who he was interacting with and where he was going.” That method would deliver progress, on both possibilities. It would also give responsibility to others in the department, who were able and could work on the ground. He had faith that justice would be delivered.

A week later, he was called to Chief Uramura’s office, for the most recent update. Last evening, well past midnight, a surprise operation had been conducted by another officer.

“Your plan has delivered. We found ten new addicts, and they’re currently undergoing treatment at the hospital.”

“I see. I hope they will recover.” Chances were slim though, they both knew that. “However, was there enough evidence to close the case?”

The chief hesitated. “That’s another thing you won’t like, Kamiya-san. We found out where the money was.”

There was a foreboding note in his voice; Koshijiro carefully asked. “So it was elsewhere?”

“Yes, in the home of Assistant Chief Inspector Nakajima. He also confessed.”

Immediately, Koshijiro felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t seen him lately, due to the latter’s assignment to the night shift. But he had remembered him as an easygoing, diligent person. Nakajima had been well-liked by his subordinates. How could such a thing have happened? “This is…difficult. Has he explained why he did it?”

“He wanted the money. He’s been gambling as well, and he’s racked up quite a record.”

It was hard to take in so suddenly, that the culprit they were searching for had been one of their own. Koshijiro was still trying to process it, when he suddenly remembered. “Have his subordinates been informed yet?”

“They have. They’ll need some time, I’m afraid they won’t be as efficient. I was thinking of changing their assignments, splitting them up for a month or two.”

Despite how it made sense, he couldn’t agree. “I know you have the best intentions, for them and the department, but with their leader gone, they are wavering. If they lose their team members as well and are thrown into a new environment, they may never recover. It would be best to speak with them, and if everyone was involved. They need to remember that there are honest men here, and while one person may have betrayed their trust, we must rely on each other, more than ever.”

“Clearheaded, as I expected.” He wryly smiled. “I’m sorry. I also haven’t recovered yet.”

“It would be strange, if you had.”

The news spread like fire, and by sunset, it was already in print. Outside, the officers on patrol exchanged anxious looks, uncertain of what to do now. Inside, a heaviness lingered in the air, and Koshijiro sighed. His own gloomy spell had passed, but the days ahead would be tumultuous.

Chapter Text

A few days after the revelation, the position of assistant chief inspector had been temporarily filled. Some of the younger officers had insisted that Koshijiro apply, but while he was flattered, he was comfortable in his current role. Instead, someone else was assigned, directly from the Department of Internal Affairs.

They exited the main building for the training yard, prepared to greet the new assistant chief inspector. The others were restless, and their conversation drifted to Koshijiro’s ears. “If he’s from the government, that means we can trust him, right?” Abe muttered under his breath.

Shinichi added. “I heard he has permission to carry a katana, even during the day. Isn’t that unusual?”

“It is, but perhaps, he still has a lingering attachment to the old ways.” Koshijiro spoke up. “If he was a samurai, it’s likely he also had police duties. For many of them, it was easiest to continue such work in the new era.”

“Does that include you?”

“Yes.”

The closest officer, Aoki, eagerly asked. “What was it like, on the battlefield? You fought for the Emperor twice, didn’t you?”

Koshijiro did not respond right away. It was easier to explain why he fought in Satsuma, because he had been conscripted and had no choice in the matter. It would take much longer, to tell the story of why he had chosen his side during the upheaval more than ten years ago. Instead, he mildly said. “War is nothing glamorous. Unlike many others, I am very fortunate to have returned home, alive.”

Aoki realized his mistake, his ears burning red. “O-of course!”

As they stepped onto the grass, Tanaka clouted him. “Idiot! You shouldn’t have reminded him!”

“It’s alright. Now, stand at attention.” Koshijiro told them and they joined the other officers, lined up in perfect rows. He straightened his posture, and didn’t have time to wonder how long they would wait, because Chief Uramura was suddenly walking out.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here. This is our new assistant chief inspector, Fujita Goro.” He ushered the man forward.

Fujita was a tall, lean man in his early thirties. It was true that he carried a katana, it was sheathed at his side. He smiled, but it didn’t seem natural, not reaching his eyes. With a gloved hand, he raised his hat in greeting. “Hello.”

The officers bowed in unison. “We look forward to working with you, sir!”

Koshijiro also bowed, a half second after the rest. He caught Fujita scanning over everyone, and literally so. The assistant chief inspector didn’t make eye contact, his gaze directed at the tops of their heads. It was a cool expression, as if he was loftily looking down from a high cliff.

“…yes.” Fujita said, and his voice was flat.

Koshijiro felt equally enthusiastic.

To his credit, Fujita was extremely efficient and performed his own patrols. The end result was the resolution of several cases and multiple arrests. Unfortunately, that also meant paperwork, and Koshijiro found that his workload had substantially increased. It certainly kept him busy, even at home.

One night, there was a knock on his bedroom door. “Otou-san? Are you still awake?”

“Yes, come in.”

He turned around to meet Kaoru’s incredulous face, her eyes narrowed against the candlelight streaming from his desk. “Geez, you shouldn’t be. It’s past midnight!”

It was very late, his vision was starting to waver. But he had a deadline to meet, and he wouldn’t feel at ease if he gave up now. “I’ll sleep, after this report is finished. Did you need something?”

“…never mind. I just got up to get a drink of water, do you want one too?”

“No, but I’ll listen to what you really want to say.”

She seemed to deliberate, before kneeling, blowing out a breath, and admitting. “It’s about Kenshin. I noticed that he’s been acting off. Sometimes, he’ll slow down in whatever he’s doing and close his eyes. When I call out to him, it takes a minute for him to respond, like he fell asleep but so deeply in just a short time. The way he acts, it’s like…like when you came home, after fighting in the Bakumatsu.”

His memories of that time were fragmented, but tinged with regret. He was relieved to be home and with his family, but he had been withdrawn, too affected by what he had experienced and what he had done to survive. Alone with his thoughts, he could easily sink into reliving the sensations of war. “I see. I’ll also keep an eye on him, and it would only be appropriate if I speak to him once this occurs again. For now, there is something you can do.”

“What is it?”

“When I came home, your mother told you to talk to me, since she was too sick to leave her bed. You might not remember, but you did help. You pointed out when I was lethargic, when my attention was drifting during practice. Perhaps, that’s also what Himura-san needs at the moment, to be reminded that he has people who care for his well-being.”

“I think so too. You’re right, I’ll make sure Kenshin isn’t alone.”

It’s true that he needs support, but it can’t be just the two of them by themselves! He hastily added. “Include Yahiko, and Sagara-san, if you can.”

Kaoru looked affronted. “Well, of course, that was what I meant.” She stood once more, and stepped out into the hallway. “Anyway, thank you, Otou-san. And good night, so go to bed soon.”

“Alright, I will.” He gave a slight smile, and that was the end of their conversation. Then, he returned to his paperwork, and summoned the remainder of his energy. He felt only relief when at last, he blew out the candle.

The following morning, he woke to dim sunlight on his face. It was definitely later than usual, but it was the weekend. The others must have remembered and let him sleep in, because when he emerged from his room, his breakfast was waiting on the table. His hand was sore from strain, and he flexed his fingers, one by one, before picking up his chopsticks.

It had been a while, since he had eaten a meal alone. He could hear faint voices from the dojo, indicating that his daughter and Yahiko had begun lessons. However, it wasn’t the same as sitting with everyone in person. He carried his dishes to the kitchen and headed for the porch.

The fresh air was pleasant, and the maple tree had new green leaves. From the doorway, he could hear Kaoru, telling Yahiko that he had performed the last kata well, but that he needed to be less hasty. And Himura was in the yard, hanging blankets on the clothesline.

“Good morning, Himura-san.” Koshijiro called out to him.

He startled, turning around. “Kamiya-san…good morning. This one assumes that you’ve finished eating?”

“Yes, I have.” He sat on the edge of the porch. “A good meal is always appreciated. Kaoru and Yahiko can also attest to that. You’ve been here three months, after all.” He cleared his throat…and he didn’t know what else to say.

Whenever he talked with Himura alone, the conversation usually revolved around three subjects: Kaoru, Yahiko, and the weather. He wasn’t keen on bringing up their shared war experiences, and most likely, Himura wasn’t eager to share either. However…he had to plant the idea that Himura could speak to any of them, if his memories resurfaced while Koshijiro was at the station.

“I suppose I should say ‘thank you’. You may be a boarder in name, but no other boarder has treated this house like a home.” At that, Himura blinked, and Koshijiro continued. “It’s why Kaoru trusts you and Yahiko respects you. You’re important to them, as I’m sure they are to you, and that closeness is what makes a good meal enjoyable.”

Himura didn’t respond right away. He looked deep in thought, and finally, he said. “This one has cherished his time in this dojo. Kaoru-dono, Yahiko, and Sano, as well as you and Megumi-dono, have made every day enjoyable. This one wonders if it is selfish of this one, to accept such kindness.”

Koshijiro recognized that feeling: a lingering guilt, born from the sacrifices of other people. It wasn’t surprising that such a feeling was intensified in Himura, and overcoming it was a gradual, difficult process. And that was often without progress. “It takes time to heal, but I hope you remember that we will not go anywhere, if you need us.” He could only say that, and Himura silently inclined his head.

After a pause, Koshijiro rose to his feet. “Now, I need to return to my paperwork. Please let me know, if there’s anything of note.” He stiffly nodded and left, without looking back.

If he had to be honest, he felt awkward the entire time. The weather really was a better topic than emotions.

The following Monday, they received a letter from Maekawa, and it was read aloud over breakfast. He was healing, but he had not recovered his full strength yet and was requesting for Kaoru to help his students later in the week.

Kaoru refolded the paper, nodding. “I’d like to see them too. Yahiko, Kenshin, you’re coming with me.”

“We are?” Yahiko griped.

“Oro? This one as well?”

“Of course, it’d be fun. But if you’d rather be alone, I won’t stop you.”

Himura paused for a moment. “No, this one will go with you.”

“Really? Thank you!” She beamed, and her happiness was infectious, for he returned her smile. Then, Kaoru turned to Koshijiro. “Sorry, Otou-san, I know you have work.”

“It can’t be helped, with the number of cases. Please, greet everyone there for me.”

On the day of, he almost believed he could join them, but the previous evening’s arrests quashed that possibility. It was close to sunset, when the last report had been filed and the rookie officers gave a collective cheer. Koshijiro didn’t have the voice to celebrate. As he was leaving, he nearly bumped into Fujita and pivoted away at the last second. “Excuse me.”

“Not a problem.” The assistant chief inspector gave a thin smile in response.

“If I may ask, what happened to your shikomizue?” Chief Uramura had prepared a sword, concealed as a cane, for Fujita to use in place of the katana. However, it was not on his back.

“Ah, the handle had splintered, so I sent it off to be fixed.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I assure you, I’m not disappointed. I prefer true Japanese swords.” His smile widened. “But I know that you disagree. You believe the sword can protect life. It’s a poisonous way of thinking, you could never deliver justice with that mindset.”

“That’s your opinion.” Koshijiro shortly replied. His right palm stung, and he realized he was clenching a fist, his fingernails embedded in his skin. “And as long as neither of our opinions interfere with police work, it’s unnecessary to have a debate.”

He walked away, heading for home. He was weary, his neck and shoulder ached, and he needed to rest for a while. It was stress, he recognized as much, and a break was the only cure.

Quietly, Koshijiro let himself through the gate, pushing it closed with his foot. Light shone from within the house, and the intensity made him blink. How many candles were they using? With his brow furrowed, he removed his shoes and announced. “I’m home.”

There was no answer at first, before Yahiko emerged from the kitchen, carrying a basin of water. He must have been using all of his effort not to spill a drop, for his greeting was more of an exhaled huff. “Hey, Kamiya-san.”

He stepped out of the boy’s way. “What’s going on?”

“Sano was attacked; we just found him lying in the dojo, bleeding.”

Takani’s voice suddenly called out from the hallway. “Yahiko! I need that water!”

“Megumi ran into us earlier, so she’s treating him now. Come on, do you want to see him?”

“Yes, I do.”

He followed Yahiko, to the guest room. The first thing he noticed was Sagara’s jacket, bloody and crumpled and tossed aside near the wall. Sagara himself was lying motionless on a blanket, and Takani was leaning over his right shoulder, where the wound likely was. It was very warm and bright, yet Kaoru was lighting another candle.

“Is that better?”

“For now, yes.” Takani said. “Ah, Yahiko, is that you? Bring the water over here.”

“Okay.” He seemed to be at his limit, and released a loud sigh when he set the basin down.

Koshijiro chose that moment to speak. “Should Sagara-san be taken to the hospital?”

“Otou-san?” Kaoru looked up at him. “No, Kenshin said not to, because we don’t know who attacked him. It’s better if he doesn’t leave our sight.”

“And I’m capable of treating him.” Takani added. “The wound looks clean, and keeping it that way is best done outside of a hospital. That is, if you don’t mind having him here.”

“No, it’s not a problem.” Koshijiro nodded at Sagara. “Please, take care of him.”

“I’ll do my best.” Her face was very grave, and they quietly exited the room.

Kaoru kept walking towards the kitchen, her hands on her hips. “I’ll make dinner, we all need to eat.”

“Are you sure?” Yahiko’s forehead creased, as he ran after her. “I can ask Kenshin…ow!”

She had grabbed his ear. “No, we should leave him alone right now. And what’s wrong with my cooking?”

“Well, it hasn’t gotten any better!”

“Then, you can help.” Koshijiro suggested, to his chagrin.

Ochazuke was the quickest option. After they brought the steaming teapot and bowls of leftover rice to the table, he finally ventured. “Where is Himura-san?”

“He’s in the dojo, but…” For a moment, there was only the sound of pouring green tea, as Kaoru swallowed to regain her voice. “At Maekawa-sensei’s place, he was alright, but when we were about to leave, he was listless again. He talked about the past, more than I’ve ever heard before.”

“Yeah, he fought the Shinsengumi.” Yahiko popped a stolen clump of rice into his mouth. “It sounds like he really respected them.”

“I’m glad that he opened up to us, but since we came home and found Sano, he’s been thinking about something. He looks so serious. I should check on him again, in case he’s hungry.” She quickly excused herself. Yahiko set aside a bowl for Takani, and the steam rose in faint wisps.

At length, Koshijiro asked. “Do you think Himura-san is fine?”

“I don’t know.” Yahiko shrugged. “But when I saw him, he was looking at the medicine box and the hole in the wall.”

“Hole in the wall?”

“Er…yeah, the dojo got busted again.”

“This is the third time in as many months.”

“Uh-huh.”

Koshijiro sighed. The carpenter was going to be very pleased. “And what’s this about a medicine box?”

“It was in the dojo, and Kenshin said not to touch it, although he was staring at the emblem.” Yahiko drew it in the air with one finger, a circle with a hat-like symbol above it. “Do you know what it means?”

“I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem like any of the family crests I’m aware of, but I can look into it.”

“It’s a good thing that you work with the police, huh?”

Then, Kaoru entered, Himura in her wake. “Don’t worry about the wall, we’ll have it repaired soon. Anyway, we have ochazuke.”

Himura’s expression was taut, as he took a seat at the table. He wrapped his hands around the warm bowl before him; he hadn’t made a sound the entire time. Abruptly, his eyes widened in realization of his surroundings. “This one-”

“No, don’t apologize.” Kaoru firmly said. “It’s been a long day for all of us. You’re only human, Kenshin, so don’t feel sorry, okay? Now, let’s eat.”

“…yes.”

They ate in silence, until Takani emerged two hours later, exhausted but satisfied that Sagara’s wounds had been cleaned and bandaged. She didn’t even mind the cold tea and rice, and between mouthfuls, she brought up the idea of watching over Sagara in shifts, until he was conscious.

Koshijiro’s turn was just after midnight. Sagara had been given a blanket, and it was pulled up to his chin. The beginning of a bruise was darkening on his jaw. Each breath was shallow, almost uncertain. Sagara had extensive fighting experience; who would be formidable enough to catch him off guard and overpower him?

Furthermore, how did they know to find him here?

He did not like the implications.

After three days, Sagara was still out of commission. This morning, he was awake long enough to accept water and medicine, but he fell asleep before Koshijiro had the chance to question him.

“Well, sleep is good for recovery.” Takani appeared to be nonplussed, yet her eyes remained concerned and she fiddled with her chopsticks. “Meanwhile, let’s continue to watch him at night.”

However, Koshijiro hoped it wouldn’t be for much longer. He had told Yahiko he would look into the medicine box’s emblem, but Fujita had suddenly increased his paperwork, enough to keep him occupied throughout working hours.

He finished his breakfast, preparing to leave for the station when his daughter said. “Otou-san, if you wait five more minutes, I can prepare a bento box.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I plan to be home for lunch.”

He hadn’t done so for some time, and her face lit up. “Really? Okay then, see you later.”

Himura added. “And please, lock the gate behind you, Kamiya-dono.”

“Of course. Is there a reason for the reminder?”

“This one believes the person who attacked Sano will return. He would be tall, and dressed like a medicine peddler. He might also smell of alcohol too; that is, if he has not changed in the past ten years…” He trailed off.

“You’re thinking of someone in particular?”

“Only a possibility.” He hesitated. “This one is not even sure if he is still alive.”

Koshijiro mulled it over. “Still, I’ll lock the gate, to be safe. I’ll also stop by the Akabeko, to notify Yahiko.” He had left earlier, to assist at the restaurant for the morning.

The boy was sweeping the road in front, and Koshijiro paused to mention the locking of the gate. In response, he curtly nodded. “Got it.” Then, he smacked his own forehead in dismay. “Crap, I have to get more charcoal, Tae’s gonna kill me. See ya, Kamiya-san!” He was off again before Koshijiro could say another word. Regardless, he also needed to arrive at his workplace, and without sparing another glance, he continued on his path.

At the station, Fujita was waiting for him, a cigarette between his teeth. “It’s busy for you today, Kamiya.” He dropped a thick stack of reports, ready to be filed, onto Koshijiro’s desk. “These take priority, and I expect them to be finished as soon as possible.”

He tried to maintain a neutral expression. Before the loss of his arm, he had never been this busy. To be fair, it was because field work had different demands. He was grateful to be involved in administrative duties, but…he still wanted to sit down and eat with his family.

…Family?

Before he could dissect why that specific word had surfaced in his mind, Fujita continued. “Do you have a problem with that, Kamiya?”

He snapped back to attention. “No. I’ll have them completed.”

“Good.” Smoke billowed out of the side of his mouth, and the smell of tobacco lingered after he strolled out.

After that, Koshijiro lost track of time, solely focusing on each report. The minutes bled into hours, until a shadow cast over his desk. He lifted his eyes, to see his officers grimacing at the tower of remaining papers.

“Are you okay with this, Kamiya-san?”

“Of course he’s not, look at how his hand is shaking.”

“Fujita’s an asshole.”

“It must be harassment. Kamiya-san, can’t you give us a report or two?”

It must have been the lack of sleep getting to him, because he relented. “Each of you may take one. Go ahead.”

Hands scrambled, and after the fray subsided, the pile was significantly smaller. He could spare time for lunch at home and complete the rest afterwards. Fujita left to patrol at noon, so he definitely wouldn’t protest if Koshijiro left at half past one o’clock. Nevertheless, he still walked carefully, just in case the assistant chief inspector had changed his normal routine and was lurking outside the station.

The familiar gate soon towered above him, and he noticed it was unlocked as he stepped through. He locked it again, knitting his eyebrows. Had an intruder entered? He didn’t have a weapon on him, so instead, he made his way to the dojo. As he drew closer, he heard his daughter’s voice.

“Alright then, but there’s water and tea if you’re thirsty.” Then, she suddenly appeared, emerging from the dojo. She glanced up. “Ack! Otou-san, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I was concerned, because the gate was unlocked.”

“Is it? That’s my fault.” Her smile was strained and he knew something was wrong. “But your coworker’s here, to help keep us safe. He was patrolling nearby, and he offered to keep watch.”

“That’s a kind offer, but he should maintain his post. I’ll speak to him.” He opened the sliding door, to see a figure sitting on the floor. A figure he hadn’t expected to see.

“Officer Kamiya?” Fujita also blinked in surprise, before giving that unsettling, unnatural smile again. “Finished those reports already?”

“I’m taking a break for lunch. I assumed you were as well, but there are no soba shops around here.”

The smile tightened. “I was telling your daughter that a dangerous gang is looking for your boarder, Himura-san. I’ll stand guard until he safely returns.”

“I wasn’t aware he was in trouble.” Koshijiro slowly said. “Regardless, thank you but I believe we’ll be fine.”

“With two women, one child, and an unconscious person? Not to mention, you only have one arm.”

It was the first time his disability had been referred to so disparagingly, and Koshijiro decided he hated Fujita’s guts. He clenched his hand into a fist.

Kaoru spoke up, her voice calm. “Fujita-san, we don’t want to disrupt your work. Once Kenshin returns, you’re free to go. That’s all. Now, Otou-san, you can have lunch. Yahiko and I already ate, so I sent him to get more tofu. Maybe, Kenshin will be with him too.” She steered him away, whispering. “I don’t like him either, but he’s your boss, right? We probably shouldn’t make him mad.”

“I feel as if I already have, with the amount of work he’s given me.” He sighed.

“Well, food will cheer you up. It’s good, Kenshin cooked it before he left on an errand.”

“What errand?”

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Yahiko said he received a letter, but it’s not from a woman. It can’t be, so just forget it, we’ll ask when he comes home. I’ll wait by the gate, so I can let them in.” She stomped off, leaving Koshijiro to enter the house alone.

Takani was eating, and she acknowledged him with a curt nod. He sat down at his place, where miso, grilled fish, and pickled vegetables awaited. After murmuring thanks, he inquired. “How is Sagara?”

She shrugged. “Asleep again. The next time he wakes up, it had better be for more than ten minutes or I’ll bury him myself.” She was clearly worn out.

“Please, don’t push yourself.” He said. “There are plenty of blankets and pillows, if you’d like to rest for an hour.”

“I know.” She didn’t dismiss the idea, so it was likely that she would. The rest of the meal was spent in silence, before Takani excused herself to return to Sagara’s bedside.

“I’m back.” Yahiko brought in the full tofu bucket. His shoulders slumped a little at the sight of the empty kitchen. “Do you think the gang found Kenshin first?”

Koshijiro placed one hand on the table and stood. “If there is a gang, they would have divided their numbers. I would have expected some men to be here, if that were the case.”

“So is Fujita-san wrong?”

“I can only find out by questioning him. Meanwhile, you shouldn’t leave the house again.”

At the gravity of his tone, the boy gulped. “Yeah, got it. I’ll go to Sano’s room and, uh, read a book or something…” He hardly read, but Koshijiro felt a little reassured as he walked to the dojo.

It was obvious that Fujita had once been a swordsman. He was sitting on his heels, his posture straight and immobile, as he properly faced the front of the space. “I admit, you designed it well. There’s plenty of room to play.”

For his own sanity, Koshijiro ignored the jab. “You were cleared to carry your katana?”

“Fortunately, yes. It’s more suited to me than a sword-cane or a Western saber.” He smiled at the sheathed blade, and it was a strangely fond expression. “Only a Japanese sword can deliver justice.”

“And the law has deemed that the police cannot carry them. Regardless of that, I was thinking about the gang. Do we know who they are, and whether they have any history with Himura-san?”

“I assume it’s a small group, around ten men or fewer. That was indicated by a few vague letters, sent from different addresses and pieced together from newspaper cuttings. As for any history, who knows? There was a war ten years ago, many people have complaints.”

“Then, why are they so dangerous? Were the letters that threatening?”

“Enough to be concerning.”

“And if they’re genuine, why aren’t our officers making arrests?”

“I’ve visited the addresses, and the gang members appear to have moved. Instead of wasting time on a search, it would be vastly more efficient to lie in wait for them.” His voice was impatient. On edge. “Speaking of efficiency, don’t you have other responsibilities? Your break’s over. Return to the station.”

He was about to reply, when Kaoru approached. “Otou-san? Is it really safe for you to leave?”

He spoke carefully. “I didn’t encounter anyone on the way here, but if you would feel better if I stayed-”

Fujita interrupted. “If you thought I was making a request, you’re wrong. You have work to do.” Was it a trick of the light, or were his eyes more shadowed? More sinister?

“Otou-san-”

“It’s fine, Kaoru. Clearly, the assistant chief inspector believes he can handle this matter.” Also, there was one benefit to returning to work. He could search through Fujita’s desk for the letters. It wouldn’t be inappropriate; this matter concerned his home and the security of its residents. If he had to pay the consequences, so be it. He clasped his daughter’s shoulder, promising. “I’ll be home by sunset.”

She still looked troubled, but she exhaled. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

Reluctantly, he departed. The sky was covered with silver clouds, darkening to gray near the horizon. Whether there would be rain or not, it was difficult to tell.

Halfway down the road, he heard a voice call out. “Kamiya-san!” Koshijiro turned his head to see Officer Shinichi crossing the street in four strides. He had been running, he needed to catch his breath before managing to relay his message. “Oh, good, I’m glad I caught you. Chief Uramura is requesting that you return to the station immediately. There’s a visitor who wants to speak with you.”

Koshijiro frowned. “Who is it?”

“I wasn’t told, only that you need to go back as quickly as possible.”

“Then, the sooner we arrive, the sooner it will end.” He would have to check Fujita’s desk afterwards.

Shinichi led him to the chief’s office, but it was empty. “The chief must be with the visitor, I’ll try and find them. You can sit down.” With a hasty salute, he hurried off. Koshijiro occupied one of the plush Western couches. Past the door, muffled footsteps grew louder and softer at intervals.

Dim light streamed in from the glass windowpanes, onto his hand. He stared at his callused palm and fingers, the short nails recently trimmed with Kaoru’s help. No, he didn’t feel weak, not when his own skin embodied a lifetime of perseverance.

Twenty minutes passed; there was no update from Shinichi. After twenty more minutes, he decided it had been long enough already. He could slip out for a while and attempt to find the letters. Without deliberating any further, he went to the door and turned the knob.

Hm? It didn’t budge, and he twisted harder, to no avail. Had someone locked the door?

He rapped the wood with his knuckles. “Hello? Is anyone out there?” There was only silence. He continued to knock, proceeding to bang his fist against the door. With each hit, his alarm grew.

It could have been an honest mistake, but what if there was no visitor and Shinichi had delivered a false message? What if he had been lured here?

Koshijiro paused and looked over the room. From what he remembered, the left window was jammed and couldn’t be opened. He tried the right but the lock only budged halfway. He peered downwards, at the streets below. His gaze met two hats, belonging to its respective officers standing guard at the entrance.

With a tired sigh, he sat again to contemplate the situation. The initial panic had subsided, and he shifted his thoughts to who could have possibly planned this. Fujita, definitely. He had been too eager to shoo Koshijiro out of the dojo. But he had to have an accomplice, at least one, at the station. He doubted it was Shinichi, he was too honest.

Someone of high rank then, who could order Shinichi. It can’t be Chief Uramura; he wouldn’t sacrifice his space unless he was here to distract me. That means whoever it is, the accomplice must be distracting the chief. And whoever locked the door…a second accomplice. But why go to such lengths?

As Fujita had pointed out, Koshijiro wasn’t much of a threat. But what if that was the purpose, to keep him away…to get to someone else? Sagara’s wounds had come from a sword. Fujita had recently broken his shikomizue. Damn it, Fujita could have been the attacker all along! And he had his katana.

His daughter and everyone else was in danger. He needed to get out. Now.

He eyed the window again. It couldn’t be opened…at least, not with the lock. He glanced at the coat rack. Sturdy and tall, it resembled the sodegarami, the man-catching tool he had used until ten years ago. He walked over and grasped it. It was heavier than he expected, but he could tuck it under his arm and guide it with his hand. He made sure the path to the window was clear, and then, he readied himself into position. He aimed the end of the coat rack towards the glass. With a running start, he could break the glass and alert the officers guarding the front door. Of course, he would pay for the damage to the window. It would most likely come out of his salary.

Nevertheless, three, two, one…!

He charged.

Then, the door swung open. “Officer Kamiya?”

Koshijiro stumbled at the chief’s voice, stopping short of the window, but he managed to lower the coat rack and set it upright. Sweat rolled down his forehead, but he snapped to attention, turning and straightening his posture. The chief blinked in puzzlement and asked. “What are you doing?”

He explained, as calmly as he could. “I believe that I was locked inside your office by mistake. I have been waiting for almost an hour, and I concluded that no help was arriving. I apologize for my impatience.”

“No, it’s perfectly alright. It’s strange, it shouldn’t have been locked. Well, sorry about the delay, but I was giving our very important guest a tour of the building.” The chief ushered in a figure, and Koshijiro braced himself to see the face of Fujita’s accomplice. He did not recognize the man. The guest had a full mustache and beard; he wore his coat over a Western suit.

“This is the minister of the Department of Internal Affairs, Okubo Toshimichi.” The chief introduced him. That name was certainly memorable; Okubo was one of the most prominent figures in the country, the last of the three men who led the Ishin Shishi.

“Minister Okubo.” Koshijiro bowed deeply. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“Please, stand up. The honor is mine, to meet a veteran of both Toba Fushimi and Satsuma.” His clear gaze was directed at Koshijiro’s face, instead of his armless sleeve.

“Ah…yes.” He maintained a respectful demeanor, but his mind was still racing. An official of Okubo’s standing would fit the criteria of Fujita’s accomplice. As for the second…

The chief then added. “Commissioner Kawaji, we’re here.” Another man entered the office. He was short of stature and balding, but Koshijiro remembered him from a few police ceremonies. He had to be the second accomplice.

Okubo spoke again. “I’d like to have a word alone with Kamiya-san.”

Without even questioning how odd that was, the chief was already in the hallway and closing the door. “Of course!”

Koshijiro subtly took a step towards the coat rack and window.

If Okubo noticed, he didn’t mention it and instead continued. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, the tour was a last minute change. I had intended to meet you at half past one, because I was told that you would definitely be here for the entirety of the day.”

“Saito-san usually has good information.” Kawaji muttered. “He must have made a rare mistake.”

“We had to switch to the secondary plan anyway, I did not want to deny the commissioner of his tour.” Okubo pressed his fingertips together. “But I wanted to speak with you directly, Kamiya-san. You’ve housed a wandering swordsman named Himura Kenshin, for the past three months. How has he fared?”

Koshijiro frowned. Was Okubo cornering him, just to ask about a former Ishin Shishi soldier? “He’s been a good boarder. Other than…I have no complaints that would concern you.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry, but would it be possible for us to meet again?”

“The minister is very busy.” Kawaji said. “We have been planning this for some time.”

“Well, perhaps, I should have been notified.”

“How rude! Is something irritating you, Kamiya-san?”

“Yes, and with every second, I’m more certain that both of you have a hand in it.”

Kawaji’s expression contorted in anger, but Okubo lifted a hand. “No, I understand. Kawaji, what is the time now?”

“Fifteen minutes past three.”

“Then, Saito-san should have fulfilled his task by now. Let’s go.”

Koshijiro struggled for patience, but he found that he had none left. He was exhausted and worried and sick of the deception. “I’m not. I’m going home, I’ve had enough of these games.”

They exchanged glances, and Okubo slowly said. “It would be best if we talk in the carriage. I promise you, we will take you home first. Consider it an apology.”

“I’ll accept.” He trailed the two of them, as they headed out to the road. A horse-drawn carriage was waiting, and Koshijiro silently stepped within.

While the carriage swayed and the buildings moved past, Okubo began to explain. “Your new assistant chief inspector, Fujita Goro, was sent to the station on my orders. His current objective is to evaluate Himura-san’s abilities in countering a certain threat.”

“And in doing so, he made a mistake and injured the wrong person. Since then, that person has not been conscious for more than an hour a day.”

“No, it wasn’t a mistake. He is very deliberate, that’s one of his strong points. I admit, that was extreme, but he must have intended to draw Himura-san’s attention. And his ire.”

“You want the assassin who worked for you ten years ago.” He realized. “Who do you want to kill?”

“That’s classified.” Kawaji automatically replied.

“The government can conscript any number of men. It did so for the rebellion in Satsuma, only last year. What kind of threat is it, that you would go to such lengths for one man?”

“Kamiya-san, that’s enough!”

He leaned back in his seat. “I assume that you know what happened to our last assistant chief inspector. He was not forthcoming with us and it resulted in betrayal. Forgive me, if I am overreacting to secrecy.”

A long pause followed. Outside, the scenery became more familiar, drawing closer to the Kamiya dojo.

Okubo stroked his beard. “It is classified information, and I would rather disclose it only once. You don’t have to wait any longer; we’ve arrived.”

Koshijiro dismounted first, calling out for his daughter to allow them in. “Kaoru!”

But it was Yahiko who opened the gate, his eyes wide. “Kamiya-san. Come on! We gotta stop them!” As he led the way to the dojo, he was trembling slightly, and Koshijiro laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

The distinct sound of metal on metal reached his ears. Kawaji pushed past, sprinting into the dojo and shouting. “Stop!”

At the same time, a scream of distress split the air. It sounded like Kaoru, and Koshijiro hurried to join the scene. He found her first, kneeling on the ground and clutching herself. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was unharmed. Standing near her with anxious expressions, Takani was supporting a now fully conscious Sagara. And then, in the middle of the floor, Fujita and Himura had halted mid-step, their swords drawn. Both were bloodied, Fujita’s forehead and Himura’s right shoulder in particularly bad shape.

“Come to your senses, Saito. Your mission was to test the abilities of Hitokiri Battousai.” The commissioner scolded.

Fujita must have been a pseudonym, because he answered. “…I was almost enjoying myself. You shouldn’t have interfered.”

Now, Okubo stepped forward. “I understand your pride, as a former captain of the Shinsengumi. But neither you nor Himura-san can afford to risk your lives here.

“So you were the one pulling the strings,” Himura lifted his head, and his gaze was cold. “Okubo-dono.”

Okubo gave a wry smile. “I apologize for the rough treatment, but we desperately needed to know how strong you are. I hope you will hear me out.”

“Yes, and you will hold nothing back.”

It seemed to be Fujita’s cue to exit, because he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “Mission report. Himura Kenshin is of no use to us, but Himura Battousai has potential. That’s all.” The commissioner didn’t appear pleased with the brevity, but he brushed it off.

Koshijiro seized the opportunity to remark. “So, you needed me out of the house, in order to fight Himura-san.”

Fujita scoffed. “You look like the kind of person who interferes, so I sought to distract you with paperwork. I should have never let you return to the dojo. You’re a stubborn one, that’s something I’ll remember. And by the way, if anyone asks why I was gone, I was patrolling the streets around here.”

“You’re telling me to withhold information from my colleagues, and so soon after the last assistant chief inspector destroyed our trust.” He bluntly said.

“That’s correct.” Fujita was just as forthright. “Because none of them can be trusted with a threat to national security. And if that’s all, I’m leaving.” He tossed his coat over his shoulder, and walked away. Koshijiro was too glad to see him go.

Okubo beckoned to Himura. “Come then, the carriage is still outside.”

“You must be…” Himura was about to make a retort, but instead, he trailed off. Then, he drove his fist between his eyes. As his knuckles came away bloody, he deeply inhaled. “This matter does not involve only this one. We will all hear what you have to say.”

Kaoru ran to him. “But first, we need to tend to your wounds. The blood hasn’t stopped yet…”

“Don’t touch them!” Takani warned and began to direct instructions to cleanse and bind the wounds. Himura was ushered to the bathhouse, Yahiko in tow to help.

In the kitchen, there was leftover tea, and Koshijiro poured some into a cup. The hot drink did very little to reduce the fury pumping through his veins. He paced back and forth, to try and curb the energy. At one point, Sagara entered but upon seeing Koshijiro, he declared. “Ah! I gotta take my medicine.” He pivoted, reversing his tracks.

After a while, the kitchen was too cramped, and he went outside. His daughter was washing Himura’s bloodied gi. Her figure seemed purposefully small, her chin tucked and her elbows drawn in.

Koshijiro knelt next to her. “Kaoru?”

“I-I’m fine.” She briefly pressed her sleeve to her puffy eyes.

“It’s over.”

“I know.” Her voice broke. “But I couldn’t do anything to stop Kenshin.”

“You didn’t have to, don’t blame yourself.”

“My voice couldn’t reach him. He was too far gone, lost in the past.”

“You should rest. The gi can wait.” He reached for her hands, but she jerked away.

“This is what I can do for him now. I don’t want to give up.” She kept turning the gi in the water, her eyes forced open to prevent any more tears forming. “That’s it.”

As much as he wanted to ease her pain, he realized he couldn’t comfort her. But the sooner the troublemakers left, the better off they’d all be. “I’m going to clean the dojo, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay.”

He returned inside to retrieve a few old cloths, the threads beginning to come apart at the edges. He passed the kitchen, noticing that Takani was measuring rice in a clay pot. She was murmuring to herself. “With the two of them and the carriage driver, that’s three more plates. Nine in total.”

He spoke up. “Don’t go to such lengths. They’re not our guests. Guests would have announced themselves.”

Takani craned her head to look at him, blinking. “Well, I suppose…”

His heavy footsteps continued. He located the bucket of soapy water used to clean the dojo’s floor, and tossed the rags into the frothy liquid. The sliding door was slightly ajar and he used his foot to fully open it. Ignoring the presence of the minister and the commissioner, he squeezed out the excess water in the cloths. But their whispers floated over to him.

“Minister Okubo, we’re short on time.”

“We don’t have a choice. There’s nothing we need more than Himura-san’s strength.”

Koshijiro threw the rag in his hand onto the floor, and it landed with a wet splat. “Both of you, I need you out.”

“This is the only private area, we can’t discuss-”

He abruptly shut up, as Koshijiro stood to face him, thunder in his expression. “Right now, I’m very angry. Because of your deception, everyone is distressed. You only care about Himura-san’s strength, but he has been hurt, and blood was shed in the dojo. This place is meant to teach. If you have any respect, you will sit on the porch until I am finished cleaning. If you feel you can’t talk, then don’t. Be quiet.”

Okubo stared at him for a moment, before inclining his head. “Kawaji, the porch is this way.” The commissioner flashed one last affronted look at Koshijiro, but they acquiesced.

He scrubbed at the splattered blood, some of it on the walls. By the time he was finished, night had fallen, and the water had turned crimson. As he washed out the bucket, Kaoru approached him.

“Otou-san? Is it okay if we can talk in the dojo? The minister’s asking.”

“It’s fine.” Cleaning the dojo had served to calm his temper, for the most part.

They filed in, sitting in a semicircle to face the minister and commissioner. Himura had a bandage on his unscarred cheek and he guarded his right side, the bandages covered by a fresh, dark gray gi.

“I’ll be brief.” Okubo began. “Himura, Shishio is plotting rebellion in Kyoto.”

“And who’s that?” Sagara interjected.

“He was this one’s successor.” Himura answered. “When this one was assigned to fight openly against the Shinsengumi, Shishio Makoto became the next hitokiri. He was another member of the Ishin Shishi, from Choshuu. Very few knew he existed, even this one has never seen him. But this one heard that he died ten years ago, in the Boshin War.”

Okubo did not reply, and Himura interpreted his silence. “So, he was not killed in battle, but executed by the Ishin Shishi.”

“At that time, we didn’t have a choice. His skill and wits were almost equal to yours, but he had cunning and a longing for power. He didn’t care for his comrades. If the public found out about his assassinations, it would threaten the Meiji government. He couldn’t continue to live. Oil was even poured over his corpse and burned.”

“Well, that didn’t work.” Sagara sarcastically said, and the commissioner glared at him.

“Watch your mouth! And this is a serious matter! Shishio’s formed an army of bloodthirsty fighters and war-loving merchants. He wants to take his revenge upon this country, by creating another civil war.”

Okubo added. “All the troops we’ve sent have been obliterated. You are our last hope. For the sake of the people, Himura, please go to Kyoto once again.”

“In other words,” It was Kaoru’s turn to speak up. “You’re asking Kenshin to kill Shishio Makoto.”

“…Yes, that is what we’re asking.”

Kawaji elaborated. “Of course, he will be amply rewarded and we can adjust some things on our end. For example, this woman is Takani Megumi, suspected to have manufactured the highly addictive Spider’s Web opium. We can make that suspicion disappear.”

Takani slapped her hand on the floor. “If you’ll use me to blackmail Ken-san, I’d rather be executed.”

“And it was your dirty dealings that started this mess.” Sagara darkly said. “You want Kenshin to cover your own asses! Kenshin’s chosen to live without killing. I won’t stand by and watch you drag him into this. Screw the government! All that matters is the peace and safety of the people!”

A vein bulged in Kawaji’s temple as he pulled Sagara’s collar. “If Shishio succeeds, we won’t have that either, you fool! If you don’t shut up, I’ll arrest you!”

“I’d like to see you try!” Sagara taunted, and grabbed the commissioner in turn.

Yahiko sighed. “The only thing I get is that if Kenshin hadn’t disappeared, you guys would’ve killed him too. You only kill people when it suits you, that’s pathetic.” That was true, and silently, Kawaji released Sagara, who made a rude hand gesture.

Kaoru folded her hands in her lap, her steady gaze on the minister. “Okubo-san, I understand that you need Hitokiri Battousai, but that isn’t Kenshin, not anymore. We will never allow Kenshin to go to Kyoto.”

“That’s outrageous!” Kawaji then turned to Koshijiro. “Please, Kamiya-san. You know what’s at stake, you sided with this government.”

But they didn’t know. They didn’t know the reason why he fought, what had convinced him to join their side, and after ten years, they had lost sight of that reason.

Koshijiro squarely looked at Okubo. “That war is finished. Himura-san fulfilled his duties to you then. If the government needs an assassin, they won’t find one here.”

The commissioner’s temper flared, and he spat. “You’re a fool, just like everyone else here!”

Okubo disagreed. “Quiet, Kawaji. I understand, Kamiya-san. Investing in the Meiji era has required much sacrifice on your part. The same goes for you.” He glanced at Himura. “This is a decision too important to make in one night. I’ll come to see you in a week, on May 14th. I’ll expect a good answer then.” He drew his coat around him and at last, he returned to his carriage with the commissioner.

“Stubborn bastards.” Sagara stalked off. “Good riddance! Let’s eat already, I’m starving.”

“Your appetite’s a good sign, but you’ll regret it if you overeat.” Takani warned.

Dinner was spent in silence, except for the noises of their utensils. Although it was still relatively early, everyone was generally eager to go to bed. Koshijiro was about to retire, but as he was closing the door, Himura suddenly peered through the gap.

“Can this one speak with you?”

“…alright.” He allowed the redhead in, feeling a little awkward.

Himura took a single step from the door, before he knelt and bowed his head. “This one apologizes, for the trouble he caused today.”

“If anyone needs to apologize, it would be Minister Okubo and Commissioner Kawaji.” When he didn’t react, Koshijiro continued. “They think highly of your skill with the sword, but you weren’t moved.”

“This one was not born to a samurai family, he was taught the sword by his master. When the people were suffering, this one saw and wanted to help.” He mulled over his words. “Minister Okubo and the commissioner are not wrong, to believe that this one would help again. But Saito had already drawn his sword, and this one succumbed to anger.”

“First of all, it was a terrible plan, if they were trying to negotiate with you. The minister did not consider your will. This week, we’ll do our best to protect you from being exploited. Your decision is what matters.” He studied Himura’s expression. “You look like you want to say something else.”

After a second, he nodded. “Kamiya-dono, you’re a respected officer and a veteran twice over. More than anyone else in this house, you would understand why they asked for this one, yet you took this one’s side. Why?”

If Koshijiro closed his eyes, he could remember many things. The crash of water against the riverbanks. The violent slap of a hand across his cheek. And faintest of all, a soft humming.

“It’s for the same reason why I fought in the Bakumatsu. I wanted to build a world in which people could be respected, from birth to death. A world that was not so rigid in who deserved certain treatment, who decided what privileges were given. The transition has not been perfect, but I still believe that a person should decide how they want to live. That includes you.” He gruffly added.

“…thank you, Kamiya-dono.”

There was a faint rustle, and Himura turned his head towards the door. “Yes?”

A long pause followed, before Kaoru entered. “Um, don’t mind me, I was checking the corners for dust. Don’t worry, they’re all clean.” She gave a little laugh, as her cheeks grew pink.

At this angle, Himura’s face couldn’t be seen, but the younger man’s tone was markedly light. “Then, that’s good.”

Koshijiro cleared his throat. “While you’re both here, let Takani and Sagara know that the five of us should meet tomorrow. I’d like your help in preparing for something.”

“What’s all this?” Yahiko blinked at the spray of irises and azalea flowers on the table. Koshijiro had chosen those, for the season and how the colors complemented each other. The second addition to their afternoon tea was an array of rice cakes, wrapped in green oak leaves. The unfamiliar sight confused him. “Are we having another party?”

“No, it’s a holiday.” Kaoru explained. “Haven’t you celebrated Boy’s Day before?”

“Of course I have.” He scratched his head. “My mom usually bought me a skewer of dango. That was about it though…”

“Well,” Sagara clapped the boy’s shoulder. “We can do a lot more than that today. You’re only a kid once. That’s why I went out and bought this.” With his other hand, he drew out a small carp streamer the length of his forearm. It was probably the cheapest one, but Yahiko’s eyes widened.

“Whoa! I can keep this?” He gingerly held onto the streamer, running his fingers over the pale blue scales.

“Yeah, it’s yours! We’ll fly it outside after we eat.”

The rice cakes had been generously filled with red bean paste, and Sagara and Yahiko eagerly tackled their shares. As she tasted hers, Takani straightened her shoulders with pride. “Hm, not bad for my first attempt.”

Koshijiro bit into one, and the sweetness filled his mouth. It went well, with the green tea that his daughter had prepared. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, tucking it out of the way as she enjoyed the mochi. Sitting next to her, Himura curved his fingers around his cup, closing his eyes at the heat. Despite his injuries, he had still insisted on finding a vase for the flowers.

The wind picked up, just in time for Sagara to tie the carp to the laundry line. It was quickly sent aloft and wriggled as if it were swimming in place.

“The carp is symbolic, because it bravely fights against the current.” Koshijiro addressed Yahiko. “I also had one, when I was a boy, and like you, I dreamed of becoming a swordsman. But it is good to cherish the present. Today, we’ll celebrate your childhood.”

“Oh…thanks. At least, it’s only for a day.” Despite his bluster, he couldn’t seem to resist tapping the carp’s tail with a finger.

Himura smiled. “Is the streamer to your liking?”

“Yeah, I guess.” But his face broke into a grin. Kaoru noticed and ruffled his hair.

“Geez, be honest. This is fun!”

Yes, this had been a good idea. Watching them, Koshijiro felt content. He didn’t know it then, but this was probably the happiest they’d be for many weeks.

Chapter Text

The calendar had not been changed yet.

Koshijiro noticed this, as he was about to leave for the station. From today, it would be exactly one week since Minister Okubo and the commissioner had visited. At work, Fujita had not explained his injuries whatsoever, and the officers muttered hypothetical scenarios to each other. The wildest so far was that he had been attacked by a wolf. Fujita had heard that one and gave a mean-spirited laugh. Only Koshijiro understood the irony, because as a member of the Shinsengumi, the man was once a wolf of Mibu. But most of the time, Fujita was absent, probably on the next mission he was given.

In the Kamiya household, it had been calm. Their typical routine had continued, although Sagara and Takani were stopping by more often. Kaoru was now practicing with the naginata, testing Yahiko’s capabilities against a long-range weapon. And Himura seemed to be fine, if a little quieter.

Minister Okubo should prepare to be disappointed.

With a slight tug, Koshijiro tore off the calendar’s page, so today’s date was properly shown.

May 14, 1878.

His prediction was given further support by the scene outside. Although they should have begun lessons, Kaoru and Yahiko were lingering in the yard. Sagara was madly pacing back and forth, circling the well and the tub of laundry. Amidst them, Himura was the picture of tranquility, and he even smiled as he lifted a spotless cloth from the soapy water.

“You’re not gonna accept, are you?! You can’t trust government officials.” Sagara was saying. “They only care about themselves.”

Himura chuckled. “So, you still despise the Meiji government.”

“I’m from the Sekihoutai, nothing wrong with that!”

“No. However, if Okubo-dono was corrupt and self-serving, then Saito would have killed him. This one knows you do not like him-”

There was a grumble from Yahiko. “Yeah, he’s rotten.”

Himura’s smile grew tight. “He holds a high standard of justice, and he believes wholeheartedly in the instant elimination of evil. It is also why he is hard to get along with…”

“Got that right.” Sagara scoffed.

Kaoru’s eyes darkened. “I hate him.”

Koshijiro hoped that somewhere, Fujita was sneezing his head off.

“Now then,” Himura stood and handed the tub of laundry to Yahiko. “Please hang these on the clothesline. This one will go to see Okubo-dono.”

Koshijiro took the opportunity to inform him. “He should be going to Akasaka, to meet with the Cabinet. Or at least, that is what Commissioner Kawaji told me yesterday.” The balding man hadn’t concealed his desperation, repeating that Shishio’s army was growing by the hour. Instead, Koshijiro had replied that if it was, then efforts would be better spent on mobilization.

“Thank you, Kamiya-dono.”

“Hello?” A voice sailed through the air, accompanied by light footsteps. Takani was rather cheerful, and she lifted one hand in a wave. “Oh, you’re still here. Good morning, Ken-san!” At her greeting, Sagara rolled his eyes, and she flashed him a glare before continuing. “Today’s the day, so I brought this!” With a flick of her other wrist, something flew from her sleeve. Chain links gleamed, and a leather loop slipped around Himura’s neck.

“Oro?”

“With a collar, Ken-san can’t go to Kyoto. I also brought sleeping powder, if it comes to that…”

Kaoru stepped in, visibly struggling to contain her irritation. “Thanks, but it isn’t necessary. And don’t you have patients?”

Starting the day like this was too much to handle. “Well, it’s time to leave for work.” Koshijiro muttered to himself.

During this exchange, Himura had unbuckled the collar and unceremoniously dropped it. As Takani gasped in protest, he walked towards the gate. “If Okubo-dono is in Akasaka, this one will meet him in Kioisaka to ease his journey. And this one will do so alone.”

The others looked as if they disagreed, but Kaoru lifted her chin and calmly said. “Kenshin, please return safely.”

He smiled. “Yes, Kaoru-dono.” Then, he turned to the road and disappeared from their sight. In retrospect, Koshijiro would remember Himura was wearing the red gi that had become his favorite.

“What if they’re going to ambush him and smuggle him to Kyoto?” Yahiko’s overactive imagination was on display.

Sagara scoffed. “Come on, have some faith. He could take on all of them.”

After a few minutes, it was clear Himura was gone and Koshijiro headed off. “I’ll see all of you at the end of the day.”

“Have a good day, Otou-san.” Kaoru said. Her earlier brave face had given way to a worried expression, and he gave her shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze before he departed.

The morning’s delay meant that he had to walk briskly. He was focused on the path to the station, considering a shortcut when someone appeared in his peripheral vision. He did a double take. “Himura-san?”

Himura held up his hands in apology. “Ah, this one had taken a wrong turn, so this one will walk partway with you.”

“That’s fine. Would you like directions?”

“This one knows the way now.”

They walked in silence for about a block, before Himura said. “The woodpile is low, so this one will cut more when he returns.”

“Yes, that can wait. I hope your meeting with the minister goes well and that he respects your choice to hold to your vow.”

Himura’s jaw tensed. “In the fight with Jin-e, this one came close to breaking it.”

“Did you?”

“It was to protect Kaoru-dono. She was caught in the Shin no Ippou.”

Koshijiro furrowed his brow. “I didn’t hear about that before. This was the ‘mind trick’ that killed people, wasn’t it?”

He immediately responded. “Kaoru-dono did not want to worry you, and in the end, Jin-e killed himself so the danger was gone. She had a strong will and broke free from the technique.”

“But you were prepared to kill Jin-e if she hadn’t.”

“Yes. Her voice called this one back. It did not, when this one was fighting Saito. He was very close to achieving his goal. Despite ten years, this one still holds the madness of an assassin from the Bakumatsu. If such chaos begins again…” He trailed off.

“To me, it’s as if Minister Okubo is using you as a shield. He has wealth, connections, and resources. But to use them, he would have to acknowledge the existence of Shishio and thus, his sins of the past. You desire to be a good man, to learn from your mistakes. That should be your priority, before you try to atone for his mistakes as well.”

They paused at the intersection leading to Kioisaka. “Those are strong words, Kamiya-dono.”

“Well, it seemed like you needed another reminder, to be certain of yourself.”

“And thank you.” He was serious this time, and he bowed. “Until later, Kamiya-dono.”

“Until later.” Koshijiro echoed, and once again, he watched Himura leave.

At the station, work continued as usual. Fujita was out again, a stack of files in his stead. It was a quiet morning, and Koshijiro was in the middle of organizing his papers when the announcement came out. Chief Uramura usually bought a newspaper before his lunch break, and he was holding a fresh one, as he entered the room. His face was drained of color.

“Minister Okubo is dead.”

Koshijiro’s ears filled with white noise, and he shook his head just in time to hear the chief continue.

“He was assassinated, while traveling to Kioisaka this morning.” So, Himura never had the opportunity to meet with him. “The commissioner has ordered that all available and able-bodied men to be out on patrol.”

That did not include Koshijiro, but after the men filed out, he found he couldn’t concentrate on his tasks. It was the shock that a public murder could happen in broad daylight and that only a week ago, the minister had been speaking in the dojo. Now, he was gone and Koshijiro wondered how the loss of his leadership was affecting the Cabinet. Already, the people were concerned and their clamor seeped through the walls. Very slowly, the end of the day approached, and Koshijiro was about to quietly leave.

“Excuse me, is Kamiya-san here?” An unfamiliar man had entered. He wore a Western suit and he had a carefully trimmed mustache.

Koshijiro raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I am Kamiya.”

“Ah, I’m glad I caught you. I am Governor Yamayoshi from Fukushima; I was the last person to speak to Minister Okubo this morning.”

“My condolences. I was sorry to hear about his death.”

Yamayoshi nodded. “It is difficult right now. However, the reason that I’m here is that he mentioned you during our meeting.”

“I’m afraid I was rude to him and I sincerely regret that.” His last words to the minister had been of adamant refusal.

“I don’t think he took offense. In fact, he seemed to have great respect for you. He was surprisingly forthright, and he confided his plan for the country. He believed that the next ten years were crucial, to build Japan as a nation-state. His goal was to have a democratic government, so that the people could decide their own fates. His exact words were: ‘It will take thirty years, perhaps too long for Kamiya-san to appreciate, but if I meet him again, I hope that we can find compromise.’”

Koshijiro bowed his head. That wish would forever go unfulfilled. “Thank you for telling me this, I will pay my respects later. Please give my regards to his family.”

“Of course.” The conversation ended, and Yamayoshi opened the door for him. The sunset was the color of blood. Koshijiro could not help superimposing the swath of red onto the late minister.

At home, the pile of wood had doubled. It could only have been Himura who had cut enough for the week, yet no one had seen him. There was no other sign of his presence, and his shoes were gone. They did hear of Okubo’s assassination, and the atmosphere at the dinner table was somber. They were waiting for Himura to return.

“At least, whoever took out the minister didn’t get him.” Yahiko was focusing on the replenished woodpile. “He could be out drinking.”

“That sounds more like Sano than Kenshin.” Kaoru protested. “And Kenshin will come back. He promised.”

Silence fell over them and lingered, until the dishes were cleared and Koshijiro suggested. “I’ll leave a lantern outside.”

The night air was cool, and he had just transferred the flame from a match when there was a rapid series of knocks. “Someone’s at the gate.” He alerted the others, and they dashed over in a mad scramble.

However, it wasn’t Himura but a young boy, who was fourteen or fifteen. His expression was full of urgency. “Please, my father’s collapsed! I heard that a doctor was here?”

Takani pushed forward, quietly inquiring about the father’s condition. “It sounds like appendicitis…I have to do an emergency surgery.” She sighed.

“I’ll escort you.” Sagara volunteered, and not even Takani could mask her surprise.

“Oh…thank you. Let’s go.”

“Take care.” Kaoru called out, and the three figures hurried off. A strong wind blew in their wake, sending green leaves cascading to the earth.

Another hour of waiting passed. Yahiko had tried in vain to stay awake, and now that he had fallen asleep, Kaoru draped a blanket over him. “I can’t sit still, I need some fresh air.”

“Don’t be out alone. I’ll go with you, to check around the house.”

“Okay.” She agreed. While she maintained a position near the sign for the dojo, he paced up and down the road. There was nothing to be found, but he was becoming very concerned that Himura had disappeared.

“I’m going to inspect the back, it should only take a minute.” It was mostly for his piece of mind, that their boarder was not lying injured in the vicinity.

“Do you want to take the lantern?”

“I know my way. Shout if anything happens.”

The grass rustled with every step, but that was the only noise. Upon closer inspection, any foreign shape turned out to be a shrub. A gust swept through while he walked on. Koshijiro watched as a firefly blinked into existence, then another, until their numbers rivaled the falling leaves.

He circled around to the front gate, and noticed that Kaoru was on her knees, facing the road. Further down, Koshijiro caught a silhouette just before it melted in the darkness. He ran over to his daughter, helping her up. “Was that Himura-san?”

Kaoru nodded once and whispered. “He’s gone, Otou-san. He left. For good.”

He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“He was going to become a rurouni again, and…he said goodbye.” She clutched herself, gripping her own arms. “He’s going to Kyoto, to stop Shishio.”

If such chaos begins again…

With Okubo’s death, that was much more likely. Himura must have thought he had to interfere, even though he did not want to break his vow. It was a shame.

“Kaoru…”

She hiccupped. “I’m sorry, Otou-san. I think I have to sleep.”

“Yes, it’s been a long day. We can talk it over tomorrow.”

Before he led her inside, he glanced one last time into the night. Only the fireflies were present, their lights strangely sad and cold.

The next morning, Kaoru was feverish and unable to leave her bed. Perspiration glittered on her forehead, and her eyes were glazed over with delirium. Feeling alarmed, Koshijiro summoned for Takani to examine her. But after ten minutes, the doctor was already repacking her bag.

“It’s stress. There are no signs of infection, so medicine won’t help.” Takani stated with complete authority. “Just give her time.”

“Thank you, Takani-san.”

The gate abruptly slammed, as Sagara stormed into the yard. “Bastard! Asshole! He’s really gone. How could he leave like that? Without saying goodbye?”

Now that Koshijiro recalled, Himura had only said goodbye to one person…and that was Kaoru.

“That’s it, I’m going!”

Koshijiro’s forehead creased. “Where?”

“To Kyoto! I’m his right hand man, I have to be there when he needs help. He should have taken the Tokaido road, so I’ll catch up to him.”

“Good luck with that.” Takani delivered a parting shot.

“I will. And I’ll haul him back after this is over. You can count on me.” He nodded, as if reaffirming his resolve. “I’ll get supplies in town and stop by the Akabeko to tell Yahiko. Give my regards to Jou-chan. See ya!”

“Have a safe trip.” Koshijiro hoped that he knew where he was going. “Don’t hesitate to ask around if you need directions.”

“Come on, old man, I know that.”

“Oh, here.” Takani exasperatedly threw a bundle, and he caught it with ease. “That has enough bandages and salve for your next injury. Be careful with your shoulder.”

“Thanks, fox. I’ll see ya in a month or two!” With a wide grin, he gave a two-fingered salute and didn’t look back. Takani left afterwards, saying that she would visit the next day.

Koshijiro laid a damp cloth on Kaoru’s forehead. Her eyelashes stirred, but she didn’t wake.

“I’m back.” Yahiko called out. His footsteps grew louder and he opened the door to Kaoru’s room. “How is she?”

“Still not well. Did Sagara-san tell you he left?”

“Yeah, he did. I followed him because I thought he didn’t say goodbye to everyone. He visited Tsunan again, he got some money and stuff. Then, he fought Saito or Fujita or whoever he is. The police officer thought he was only going to weigh Kenshin down. But Sano’s stubborn, so he got a few strikes in. He’s on his way to getting even stronger, lucky him.”

There was a lot to unpack in those few sentences, especially the fight with Fujita, but Koshijiro decided that it all paled in comparison to his daughter’s well-being. “Well…I’m glad it all worked out.”

“Me too.” With a huff, he seated himself next to Kaoru’s futon. “She’s gotta eat something later. I can’t cook though. Can you?”

“Not even with two hands.”

“Hmm. We need help.”

They didn’t have to search very far. In the evening, Tae and Tsubame stopped by, to provide food and company for Kaoru. By then, she could sit up, and Koshijiro brought out the small table they had used for meals when Kyoko was bedridden. There were bento boxes for Yahiko and Koshijiro, and a small clay pot for Kaoru.

“Tsubame cooked the porridge. She did an excellent job.” Tae beamed, while the younger girl blushed.

“It’s not much.” She shyly said.

Kaoru tried a spoonful. “It’s good, thank you.” After another, she paused. Koshijiro flashed her an anticipatory expression, and didn’t lift his chopsticks again until she continued eating. Gradually, she finished most of her share, and Tsubame offered to wash the dishes. Yahiko tagged along, claiming he had to check their current stock of ingredients. It was rather obvious that he wanted to talk to her.

“Please feel better soon, Kaoru.” Tae folded her hands in her lap. “Is there anything else you need?”

“…um, just the outhouse.” She slipped free of the covers. “I’ll be right back.” Her steps were barely audible, and her form seemed terribly small.

Koshijiro didn’t feel angry at Himura, he could understand why the man had to stop the threat. It was just unfortunate for everyone else involved, and he didn’t know how he could fix any of it.

It’s only been a day, but it feels so long.

“We were so surprised to hear that Kenshin left. I thought he would stay for good…” Tae trailed off. “It was right for us to visit.”

“We’re very grateful, although if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to take care of.” Given that it was a family emergency, he had permission to take reports home for the week.

“Of course. We’ll stay until Kaoru falls asleep.”

He was about to exit, when his attention was drawn to the corner of the room. There were two cloth dolls, propped up against each other. He recognized one of the dolls, a miniature replica of his daughter. Ever since she was very young, she usually had a sewing piece, and he and Kyoko had encouraged her little projects. This doll was the latest he knew of; she had finished its kimono, before he left for Satsuma. But the other one…

“That’s a doll version of Himura-san.” He said in disbelief. It was even wearing a little red gi! “When did that get there?”

“Oh, well,” Tae’s eyes nervously darted back and forth. “About two months ago, Kaoru did mention she had a new sewing project.”

The stitched round eyes stared at him. “Perhaps, we should take it away. It would only remind her that he’s gone.”

“She’ll notice if you do. And what if it comforts her?”

He couldn’t see how, but his daughter would probably notice if the doll was missing. In the end, he pretended he had never seen it.

Kaoru’s fever broke by midnight, and the following day, she seemed perfectly healthy. She had made breakfast, and the overdone fish caused Yahiko to stick out his tongue. She hung the laundry out to dry and waxed the dojo’s floor. Overall, she was keeping busy.

She was keeping quiet. She insisted that she was fine, but she had acquired a perpetual slight frown. Whenever the gate opened, she automatically whipped around and slumped in the next second, obviously disappointed. She seemed to be enduring each day, up and about but without her usual enthusiasm.

After six days, it was clear her melancholy only had one cure. Koshijiro couldn’t ignore it, so he had formulated an idea, rethinking it over and over.

It’s far from ideal, but if it can make her feel better, it would be worth it. It’s worth it.

That afternoon, he peered into the dojo, using the wall to shield the rest of his body. “Kaoru, Yahiko, I’d like to speak with both of you.”

According to Yahiko, lessons had been adequate, but his teacher had been ‘spacey’. He was right. Kaoru slowly turned her gaze towards the open door. “Oh. After this kata.”

“We just finished it.” Yahiko nudged her.

“I guess we did, huh?” Her nervous laugh didn’t settle right with Koshijiro.

They set aside their shinai and gear, following Koshijiro to the dining table. The whole time, he held his arm close to his body. When they were all seated, he released his armful onto the table.

A coin purse and wallet. A map. And three train tickets. He pointed to them first.

“These are tickets from Shimbashi Station to Yokohama. It will take about one hour, before we reach the port city.” He unfolded the map, and traced the coastline with one finger. “Then, from Yokohama to Kobe, it will be three days at most. At Kobe, we will pay for tickets to take the new train line to Kyoto.”

“We’re going to Kyoto?” Yahiko blurted. “Really?”

“Yes. I heard from a colleague that it will be two hours, so if you’re seasick, we can stay the night in Kobe and travel in the morning to the Shirobeko, which the Sekihara family runs. I’ve calculated it, and this amount of money should be more than enough. If it isn’t, Sekihara-san said that her sister would appreciate extra hands at the Shirobeko. You can help out, to repay them for your stay while I’m gone.”

“While you’re gone?”

“I can’t leave my job for too long, Kaoru.”

“R-right.” She looked over the items again. “But…are you okay with leaving us in Kyoto?”

If he had to be honest, he was not totally comfortable with the situation. However, for their sakes, he couldn’t neglect his professional responsibilities for more than a week. He had to trust his daughter and Yahiko would be safe at the Shirobeko. That would be the hardest part, but instead, he asked. “The question is, are you sure of yourself? Kyoto is a large city, you may not find Himura-san.” You might never meet him again, he thought but didn’t voice it.

Kaoru straightened, and some of the fire had returned to her eyes. “I am. I want to see him, and I want to bring him home.”

“That’s right! No more excuses.” Yahiko vigorously nodded. “You’re the only one Kenshin said goodbye to, it was hardest for him to part with you. So you have the best chance of bringing him back, right?”

“I’ll definitely try.”

And so, they prepared to depart. The dim morning sun and Takani saw them off at the train station. “I’ll keep an eye on the dojo while you’re gone.”

“Thank you, Takani-san.” Koshijiro said. “And please, thank Dr. Gensai for informing me about the new train line to Kyoto.”

“Certainly.”

“Do you want a souvenir?” Yahiko offered.

“That’s quite the loaded question!” She tittered, and coyly, she hid her smile behind her sleeve.

“Is that all you have to say?” Kaoru furrowed her brow.

“Oh, please. I just woke up so early this morning so I could laugh at all of you.” However, she handed over a small container, its surface painted with a flower pattern. “This is a medicine developed by my family. I’m sure Ken-san will be injured, so give it to him when you meet him.”

“You could come with us, to Kyoto.” Her tone was a little grudging, but her eyes were honest.

“No. Ken-san showed me that to live on, I need to atone. I can only do that as a doctor.” She paused. “It was hard for me, not to hear him say goodbye at all. You’re fortunate.”

“Megumi-” Kaoru started, but then, the train began to move forward, and Takani vanished into the crowd. “She wanted to go to Kyoto.”

“But she has a duty to care for her patients.” Koshijiro reminded her.

“I know.” Outside, the trees had blurred together. “She said I was fortunate, yet I didn’t think so at first. When he said goodbye, I felt like I was chained from head to toe. But not anymore. Now, I understand. I’m through with being sad, I want to keep moving forward. That’s what the master of Kamiya Kasshin would do.”

“Well said.” He leaned into the cushioned seating, and for the first time in a week, he contentedly closed his eyes.

The journey was like a whirlwind, and Yahiko may have vomited into the sea once or twice, but after a night of rest in Kobe, they arrived in Kyoto. It wasn’t Koshijiro’s venture time in the city; however, it was his first during peacetime. This clamoring, mundane Kyoto was nothing like how it had been in his memories of the battle of Toba Fushimi. Of gunpowder, shouts, and fresh blood…

“Are they speaking Chinese?” Yahiko’s wide eyes were focused on three girls cooing over a dog and chattering amongst themselves.

“Yahiko, don’t stare.” Kaoru admonished and steered him away. Despite her best efforts, her attention was also drawn to the new sights and sounds.

“The Shirobeko should be this way.” Koshijiro adhered to the directions Tae had provided, and in ten minutes, the building loomed over them. It was quite similar to its sister restaurant, and he did feel somewhat better, seeing their accommodations in person. Sae and the staff were pleasant, eagerly welcoming them. The guest room was clean and neat. There was nothing to find fault with, except in Koshijiro’s own reluctance.

“How are you going to find him? I refuse to let you wander into the street and ask complete strangers.”

“Otou-san, don’t be ridiculous. We’ll put up flyers.”

“Yeah, good ones.” Yahiko chimed in. “Red hair and scar and everything. He’s hard to forget.”

“And what if Shishio’s men come here?” He mulled over it. “That settles it. I’ll send you the shinai, bokken, and practice naginata. And your uniforms. However, don’t engage them, it’s too dangerous. You should only use what you have to defend and run away.”

“Otou-san…” But his daughter didn’t sound angry.

They saw him off at the train station, yet Koshijiro wasn’t finished. “One more thing. I would like to receive an update every week, by letter. It may only be a sentence or two, but as long as I know you’re alive and well, I’ll be at ease.”

“It’ll definitely be a page, at least.” Kaoru promised. “We’ll both write. Yahiko needs to practice his kanji anyway.”

“Ugh.” He made a disgruntled expression. “Fine.”

Koshijiro exhaled. “Then, this is where we part. I wish I could stay.” He couldn’t help adding.

That seemed to increase Kaoru’s concern. “Will you be alright, Otou-san? You’ll be alone in Tokyo.”

“I’ll manage.” He clasped her shoulder. “But most of all, I want you to be like yourself again. And…I also think Himura-san wants to be home.”

“I think so too.” Then, she smiled, a true one. He had missed her happy face. She flung her arms around him, in a tight embrace. “Thank you. Really.”

“Be good.” He gruffly said, and after she pulled away, he gave a pointed look to Yahiko. “Yahiko, I trust that you’ll be responsible.”

“I will.” The boy grinned. “I want to see Kenshin too. We’ll get him back.”

The conductor called for the passengers to board, and he chose a seat beside the window, so they could watch him leave.

“Write!” He reiterated.

“We will!”

Then, the train picked up speed, and he craned his head out the window. He kept his eyes wide open, burning the sight of their waving figures into his memory.

The return trip was lonely but smooth, and when he crossed the gate at last, Takani had just arrived.

“Thank you for watching the house.”

“It’s not a problem. I’d be happy to do it again, if you want to visit them.”

He doubted that would be before his next paycheck. The travel fees had dealt a hefty hit to their finances. “I’ll consider it. Please, have some tea.”

She opened the dojo’s doors. “Tea would be nice-no!” Her sentence morphed into a bitten off scream, and Koshijiro looked past her to see the flash of two blades, in the hands of a tall figure approaching Takani. She collapsed, trembling.

“Where is he? Battousai?” Shinomori Aoshi stalked out of the dojo. Somehow, he had broken in.

Takani shook her head. To her, the man was associated with her former exploiter, and she was rightfully terrified. Koshijiro stepped between them, meeting Shinomori’s flat gaze.

“Are you asking me to kill you?”

Koshijiro did not answer him. He knew very little about Shinomori, and any wrong move could set him off.

A voice drawled from the gate. “You’re too late, he’s on his way to Kyoto by now.” Fujita pulled a lit cigarette from his mouth, letting the smoke escape into the air. He marched over to them with a grimace.

Shinomori tilted his head. “And you are?”

“Fujita Goro. A policeman. Since you’ve been holed up in the mountains, I’ll bring you up to speed. Himura Battousai has gone to Kyoto, to defeat Shishio Makoto.”

“If that’s so, I’ll come again when he has returned.”

“Maybe he never will, if Shishio kills him first.”

“No. I am the only one who will kill Battousai.” With utter confidence, he strode out. A tense minute followed.

“He’s gone. Hm…” Fujita had an unbelievably thoughtful expression.

“Why did you tell him that? He’ll kill Ken-san!” Takani hissed. “And Kaoru and Yahiko are in Kyoto!”

“Kyoto’s a large city, and they’re not his targets.” Fujita shrugged, and Koshijiro desperately wanted to shake him. “We have greater concerns at hand. Shishio’s army is marching upon villages, at least ten have fallen to his control. Dissenters are executed, and all the policemen I’ve sent have retreated.”

Koshijiro clenched his teeth together. “And so, the army would be helpless as well?”

“It hasn’t even been a year since we suppressed the rebellion in Satsuma. If we need to use the army against our own citizens again, how would that look to the rest of the world? Also, no one in the Cabinet wants to share Minister Okubo’s fate. How can you prevent an assassination? That’s why people like Himura and I are necessary, and why we could use Shinomori. Don’t you understand?”

“Of course. I only lost my arm, not my mind.” Koshijiro curtly said.

“You could have fooled me.” He thrust a slip of paper to Koshijiro. “Check on this address occasionally, in my absence. I’m going to Kyoto, to make sure Himura does his job.”

And to keep Shinomori at bay, if it comes to that, Koshijiro thought. He read over the paper; the address was in a residential area. “I assume this is the location of your family.”

“That’s for you to find out.” He raised a gloved hand in parting. “Goodbye.” He didn’t even wait for a reply, closing the gate behind him.

“What a frustrating man.” Takani pursed her lips. “Are you going to that address?”

“Perhaps.” But first, he had to make his own house more secure. No one else would be breaking in or making unwanted entrances.

Chapter Text

“Damn it!” Koshijiro swore and he could only watch as the teapot’s lid fell into his bowl of chazuke. The piece of ceramic sank, nestling in the slightly browned grains. He hastily set the teapot down, and some of the hot liquid spilled over, missing his hand but pooling on the table. He’d have to clean it up later; breakfast had taken him too long to prepare, and now, he was rushing. It had been a while, but the chief had renewed his habit of scheduling extensive meetings on short notice.

He paused. He inhaled, then exhaled. “Well…these are minor setbacks.” After retrieving the lid with his chopsticks, he started to eat. The table suddenly seemed vast and empty, without the extra bowls and cups, and of course, the other people who had lived here until very recently. It was so quiet, it was unsettling. At this time of day, their voices would have filled the air.

And it’s only the first day without them. With a last sigh, he finished the remainder of his chazuke before heading for the station.

For the most part, the meeting was terribly mundane. It was mentioned that Assistant Chief Inspector Fujita would be absent for the next month, “on assignment”. While he was gone, his duties would be divided among the rest of them. Except for Koshijiro.

“He had a specific list for you.” The chief said and removed a sealed envelope from his desk. “Oh, I’ll open it for you. Here.”

With a flick of his wrist, Koshijiro snapped the paper straight. His eyes met rows of carefully written numbers, a kind of cipher masking the details of his tasks. Somehow, he expected as much from Fujita. “Were there any instructions?”

“No, none at all.”

“…I see.”

Once they were dismissed, he immediately made for Fujita’s desk. The surface had been wiped clean, and the drawers were bereft of any loose papers. The only remaining items were an inkwell and a dozen books, arranged by date of publication. Koshijiro examined the spines and covers for anything within. His search yielded nothing, not even a folded page corner.

Koshijiro took a step back, glancing between the numbers and the books. Considering publisher, author, and genre, none of the books had anything in common except their mode of print. Perhaps, that was his clue: this was a book cipher. And so, he set upon the tedious task of comparing the numbers to pages, lines, and characters. The first three books didn’t make complete sentences, and the fifth led to a string of infinitive verbs. The eighth seemed to be the most promising, until the message devolved into complete nonsense. When he opened the twelfth, the clock ironically signaled that it was noon.

And thank goodness for that. I need to clear my head.

“I’ll be back later.” He muttered. The other officers nodded without looking up. Evidently, Fujita had given them an equal amount of trouble.

Lunch was spent at the Akabeko. As soon as Koshijiro entered the restaurant, Tae cheerfully steered him to a corner table. “There’s nothing from Sae yet, but it hasn’t been that long. I’m sure Kaoru and Yahiko are doing well.”

“Still, I’m looking forward to their letter.” He wondered if they had adjusted to staying in an unfamiliar city. Were they eating well? Did they have enough money?

“It’s natural to feel that way, and they must be concerned about you too. So, Kamiya-san, you should keep up your strength.” She smiled, and Koshijiro nodded.

“Then, agedashi tofu, if you have it.”

“Of course. Could you also get him some tea, Tsubame?”

The girl was clearing a nearby table, and she jumped at the mention of her name. “Yes, right away!” A short while later, she carried a tray over. However, after pouring the tea, she did not immediately leave. “Um…Kamiya-san?”

“Yes?”

“You said that they’ll write from Kyoto? So, Yahiko-chan,” She vigorously shook her head. “I mean, Yahiko-kun! Is it alright to send something to him?”

“Of course. You can write to him as well.”

“Oh.” She flushed red, as if the thought had never occurred to her. “That’s right. I’ll think of something.”

“Please, don’t feel rushed.”

“And you can ask me, if you need help composing.” Tae added, as she set Koshijiro’s ordered dish on the table. “I’ll also write to my sister. We’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his head, and they left him alone to eat.

The tofu was delicious and the tea was pleasantly hot. As he breathed in the fragrance, he considered the cipher. Whatever information Fujita was passing on to him, it was highly confidential.

There has to be a simpler way. Fujita would want this information to be relayed, so he couldn’t have used an extremely convoluted code. What if the books have nothing to do with this? Then, the answer lies in the paper itself. The paper was standard issue in the office and so was the ink. He stopped in the middle of drinking his tea. The desk was perfectly clean, without any ink spots or an ink blotter. I’ll examine the inkwell, but if it’s dry, he didn’t write the list in the office. He wrote it elsewhere.

He took his time in finishing the meal and paying Tae. At a leisurely pace, he returned to the office. Indeed, the inkwell was completely dry, like it was new. So, the page itself had been the clue, to a completely different place. And he had already been given the address.

The house was situated in a quiet neighborhood. The sun was on its way down, a golden glow illuminating the traditional roofs and clean roads. Koshijiro knocked on the door, and he heard light footsteps, before someone answered. “Yes?”

“This is Officer Kamiya, from the Metropolitan Tokyo Police. I was directed to your home by Assistant Inspector Fujita.”

Momentarily, the door opened to reveal a petite woman, with clear eyes and her hair in a tight bun. “Yes, he said that he’d send someone from work. Thank you for dealing with my husband.” Her smile was knowing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, come in.”

“Thank you.” Koshijiro removed his shoes and entered. The interior was sparse, and it was apparent that the residents had not lived here for very long. Fujita’s wife walked into an adjacent room, so he made to follow her.

The hairs on his arm stood on end. He stopped, just as the barrel of a pistol thrust towards his chest, not quite reaching him but enough to force him backwards. Fujita’s wife held the other end, her grip steady and gaze unwavering. “Officer Kamiya, you said? Forgive my forwardness, but to me, you are a stranger. I need to know if you were truly sent by Assistant Inspector Fujita and not an interceptor of his message.”

Slowly, Koshijiro held up his hand, to show that he would not attack. “That’s understandable. Feel free to interrogate me. I have nothing to hide.”

“First question. Where is the assistant inspector now?”

“Presumably, on his way to Kyoto. I haven’t heard from him since he visited the Kamiya dojo.”

Her lips pressed together. “Second question. Until very recently, who was he working with?”

“The late Minister Okubo.”

“Last question. Where am I from?”

He was taken aback. Fujita had never mentioned his family before, and he was about to reply that he didn’t know. However, that would be an answer anyone could give. Her intention dawned on him: he needed an answer that would prove he was capable of Fujita’s standards. Her Tokyo accent was very good, but now that he had listened to her more, the cadence of her voice was reminiscent of Takani’s. “Aizu.”

The pistol lowered a fraction. “My husband is very discerning. I can see why he chose to trust you. But, I will keep this with me.” She moved the firearm to her side, and he released a breath.

“That’s perfectly alright. There is honor in protecting yourself and your family.”

A slight nod indicated her agreement. “I’m Saito Tokio.”

“Kamiya Koshijiro.”

“Are you the father of Kamiya Kaoru?”

“Do you know her?” He asked, surprised.

“Not personally. I’ve heard that she was the master of her dojo. For a woman, that is a great accomplishment. We honor the memory of a group of onna bugeisha in Aizu, so I remembered her name.”

Pride filled him from head to toe. “Unfortunately, she’s in Kyoto. I hope the two of you can meet sometime.” Making sure his movements were obvious, he withdrew the folded page from his wallet. “Now, the reason I’m here is because of this cipher encoding my assignment. I have been unable to solve it.”

Tokio took it and after a brief scan, she said. “I have seen these numbers before, I’ll bring out the document. Please don’t leave this room.”

After five minutes, Tokio returned with a large folded sheet, which she opened on an adjacent table. The map of Tokyo was familiar, except for the numbers on the grid’s margins. On both axes, the numbers were in random order. She placed the cipher above it. “Would you like any assistance?”

“Yes, I would greatly appreciate it.”

The horizontal axis was indicated, then the vertical, to reveal a specific point. The first was a training site for soldiers. The subsequent numbers traced a path to the harbor. Then, a separate point started at a warehouse of cannons, and the same pattern ensued. The overall picture was that of troop movement; the last line was at the Imperial Palace. Tokio had excused herself, leaving him to consider the map’s message.

This appears to be a plan for mobilization. I can only think of one scenario-

“Ah!”

Koshijiro turned to see a little boy, not even two years old, grasping the side of the doorway. He waddled forward, each breath more of a puff. As he shoved a thumb into his grinning mouth, Koshijiro spotted the edges of two bottom teeth.

“Forgive the intrusion, Kamiya-san.” Tokio sighed and lifted the toddler. “Tsutomu has not learned how to knock yet. His father is not much better. Barging in everywhere…”

“It’s not a problem.” He smiled. In fact, the presence of Fujita’s family reinforced his train of thought.

Himura was sent to Kyoto to eliminate Shishio, yet what if he fails? What would be Shishio’s ultimate goal? In order to seek revenge on the entire Meiji government, that would culminate in a direct attack on the capital. If his army arrived by sea, this is a contingency plan.

Furthermore, Koshijiro would essentially be acting commanding officer. His assignment had the utmost priority: to protect the citizens of Tokyo. Now, it made sense that Fujita had gone to such lengths to encode the plan.

And it was now Koshijiro’s duty to protect it.

He studied the map, committing the information to memory. Meanwhile, Tokio spooned a watery rice gruel into her son’s mouth. “Kamiya-san, whenever you’ve finished, there are onigiri behind you.”

He glanced backwards to see a small tray of neatly made riceballs. “Oh, thank you. I won’t intrude for much longer. After you and your son have finished dinner, would it be possible to start a fire?”

“A fire? Ah, I understand. The night air’s quite cold, isn’t it?” This time, her smile was thin. “Then, let’s keep the fire going for a long time.”

Of the three of them, Tsutomu was the most excited about the bonfire. He stared, transfixed, as Tokio tossed a lit match onto the kindling and the flames bloomed. Koshijiro threw in Fujita’s list and the map. The edges browned, darker and darker, until disintegrating into ash. In a thin, pungent plume, the smoke drifted away from them.

He ate half of the onigiri, watching the fire to ensure all the papers burned. The toddler’s attention span proved to be short, and he fell asleep in his mother’s lap, his tiny feet dangling. Tokio subtly rocked him, softly murmuring. Koshijiro caught a few words.

“…pray that you’re alright.”

While his feelings toward Fujita hadn’t really improved, he also hoped that the assistant chief inspector would safely return.

After a week, there was still no news from Kyoto. Koshijiro had tried to distract himself with chores. He tested the viability of the contingency plan, ensuring that the roads were less traveled and the military equipment was in top shape. He kept his promise to Kaoru and Yahiko, sending a box with their uniforms and weaponry. Messages from Tae and Tsubame were also sent with the package. He paid for a higher-quality lock on the gate and an extra set of new keys for Takani, who offered to help out while he was at work. He chopped enough wood for the week and bought groceries. One task was the most daunting, so he had waited until his nervous energy had reached a peak. Without any pressing matters at work, today was certainly the day.

Koshijiro strolled into the shed.

This was last cleaned about…nine years ago. Nine years’ worth of stored items. Well, I’ll organize and clear out as much as I can.

The central space had been cleared out, from Himura’s stint in the building. Most of the boxes were pushed against the wall, but the layer of dust was thinner than expected. Himura must have cleaned up. As Koshijiro looked closer, a subtle order emerged. The leftover practice naginata were aligned with his old police weapons. The shelves were filled, yet the heaviest dishes and pottery rested on the sturdiest boards. He would have to thank Himura, when he returned.

The first three hours were spent on moving everything he could into the yard. The largest chests and shelves remained, but most of the floor was available for a good scrubbing. That occupied him until noon, and after lunch, a bento box courtesy of Tae, he began to sort. The oldest container held a collection of landscape paintings. Many of the locations were common: workers in a field or a grassy slope overlooking a stream. He supposed his father wanted to capture a simple scene for practice. The following two were definitely familiar. One was a section of Chiba’s marketplace at dawn, the stalls lining the dirt road and faded rouge rubbed into the sun. The second was drawn from a point surrounded by tall grass. The stalks were not in great detail, for the greatest attention had been granted to the modest house and an accompanying maple tree. A short stretch of gravel led to the front door; a dark tiled roof crowned the mud walls. The pictures stirred a visceral reaction. Swallowing, he set both aside and sifted through the rest, but they seemed to be the rough drafts.

The next box took some effort to pry it open. More paintings were inside, and Koshijiro withdrew them, to determine whether they could be sold. Landscape, landscape, another landscape. But the last one was a portrait. The subject was a young woman dressed in a blue kimono, holding a broom. The scene had caught her sweeping a courtyard, though it wasn’t an elegant moment. Her posture was straight, her arms held close to her body, in an efficient manner. The sharpness of her gaze made it seem she was looking directly at the viewer.

“Ah.” He felt the beginning of a wry smile, remembering that same expression and how he had dreaded the sure consequences that were to follow. “I must have done something to make you look like that, Okaa-san.”

The dog was drooling. It was a sandy-colored mutt, its tongue lolling out as drops of saliva glistened and dropped onto the dirt. Rib bones jutted out, as the dog crouched and pawed at the cover of a long-abandoned well. The tongue ran over two rows of yellow teeth, before it barked in anticipation.

To his young ears, the sound frightened him and he ran. He stumbled, tripped over his own feet, and fell face first into the ground. He didn’t look back, picking himself up and hurrying away as fast as he could. He really hadn’t wandered away, only around the corner, and he spotted her immediately. She carried a bundle of small daikon in one arm, and she was arguing with a merchant, whose face he didn’t care to remember.

“I’ve heard that you increased the selling price. We had an agreement. Everyone can barely feed themselves and it’s already autumn, so be reasonable. Lives are at stake.”

“I need to feed myself. If you can’t understand that, then take your business elsewhere.”

Her voice had turned sharp and angry. “Then, I intend to do so. Return all of my blankets.”

“Take them yourself.” The shopkeeper flapped his hand at the building behind him.

She adjusted the daikon under her arm. “You bast…Kotaro, there you are!” Okaa-san had seen him from the corner of her eye, and he flung himself around her leg. Her warm, callused fingers cupped the back of his head. She gave an exasperated sigh. “You have dirt all over you, did you fall?” He nodded, and then shook his head again when she asked if he was hurt.

“Is that your son?” The merchant demanded. “Well, aren’t you acting high and mighty, when you have a child to care for? You should be concerned about fattening him up.”

Okaa-san didn’t answer, only brushing him off. “Let’s go home.” She spoke over her shoulder to the horrible man. “And I’ll return for the blankets at the end of the day. With my son’s father.” Then, in a mutter only Kotaro could hear, she added. “Even though I hate bringing him into this…”

It wasn’t until they had left town that he asked. “Why?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t want Otou-san to talk to that man?”

“Oh,” She blew out a breath. “It’s a little complicated. Do you remember I was sewing at night? I was stitching cloth together to make blankets. It’s going to be very cold, and I wanted to keep my friends warm. But there are some people I can’t send them to, so I asked that man to sell a few blankets at a low price. He broke his promise though. If no one can afford the blankets, they’ll freeze as well as starve.”

“Famine.” He knew that word very well. It was as old as he was, five years, yet nobody liked it. It was the reason why people kept talking about food and money and hunger. The crops are bad again, the baby’s sick, there won’t be enough, we won’t survive this, don’t you know that? All because of the famine.

Okaa-san made her worried face, her eyebrows meeting and mouth tightening. “Yes. That’s right. Anyway, I don’t like to involve your father, because it seems like I depend on him.”

“Is that bad?”

Her answer was something he didn’t understand for many years. “It’s supposed to be normal, which could be worse. But remember this: I do love your father, and I love you.”

Kotaro’s answer was immediate, natural. “I love you too!”

Okaa-san smiled wide, and he felt a happy burst of warmth.

Home was at the outskirts of town. It was an older building, the floorboards worn and the roof leaking water droplets whenever it rained. Otou-san wasn’t wealthy, but it couldn’t be helped. Of the Kamiya clan, their family line had only inherited the name and its reputation. However, he said he liked being close to nature, it offered “peace of mind and inspiration”.

As for Kotaro, he never ventured further than the yard. He liked being home, with just the three of them. He spent his days playing and tagging along with Okaa-san while she ran errands. In the afternoons, he fell asleep to the rhythmic sounds of the loom and Okaa-san’s soft humming. When Okaa-san sang, it was even better. Everyone was quiet when she did, and they always said she had a beautiful voice. No matter how tired he claimed he was, Otou-san would sit still and watch her.

She sang a little, while she was cutting the daikon. The words were low, under her breath, but the melody was soothing. It was something she made up, and Kotaro clung to the notes as he nodded off.

The next thing he knew, he awoke to a darkening sky overhead. As Kotaro rubbed his eyes, he was jostled and he let out a noise of complaint. He was in a cart, which they didn’t own. The unfamiliar surroundings gave no cause for panic, for the two people driving the cart were instantly recognizable. Otou-san looked over his shoulder. His face, scruffy because he hadn’t shaved in a week, broke into a grin. “Ah, Miyo, he’s awake. Did you have a good nap?”

Kotaro yawned, nodded. He threw off the shawl covering him and crawled to the front of the cart.

“Mind the blankets, Kotaro.” Okaa-san chided. They were bundled all around him, in patchwork colors. Red, brown, blue, green. Later, he would learn that they were composed of any spare pieces of cloth, gathered by his parents’ efforts.

They stopped at a poor farmer’s house, and the owner must have heard their approach. He stepped towards them and called for a woman, his wife, to join him. As she opened the door, two older children peered out. Okaa-san jumped off, grabbed three blankets, and walked towards the people. Kotaro watched, as she talked with the family and they bowed their heads.

“So…” Otou-san cleared his throat and awkwardly patted Kotaro’s back. “Your mother said you weren’t hurt when you fell. That’s good. But you shouldn’t have wandered off. In the future, stay close, alright?”

“Yes.”

“Did anything else happen?”

“Okaa-san says she loves us.”

“Really?! She never says that to me.” His voice sounded hurt and he shook his head, but he was smiling.

He still was, when Okaa-san returned. She sharply asked. “What are you laughing about?”

“You, of course. You’re very funny.” He helped her into the cart. He was still in a good mood on the way home, even whistling. Okaa-san’s expression was perplexed at first, before it gradually softened. Watching them, Kotaro was content.

The year gave way to another, and they did survive the famine. There was more food on the table, and like the grass, he grew taller to Okaa-san’s satisfaction. However, his most vivid memory was of his father, frowning over letters. Although he knew all of his kana, Kotaro couldn’t understand any of the kanji, to his frustration.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the character for ‘cousin’.” Otou-san patiently said.

“And that one?”

“That is ‘successor’.”

“What’s a successor?”

“Kotaro!” Okaa-san beckoned him over. “Please get the washcloths from the laundry line.”

He didn’t move right away, stubbornly waiting for an answer. Otou-san sighed. “Go on, help your mother. It’s too early for you to worry about these things anyway.”

It may have been too early to worry, but it would have affected him nonetheless. Perhaps, that was why Okaa-san clarified the situation, as she showed him how to neatly fold the squares of fabric.

“Your father’s cousin is very ill. If he doesn’t recover, his job will be taken by someone else. Usually, that would be his son, but his son became a physician instead. The next closest relative ran away with a lover. So, your father could have a new job.”

“Is that it?”

“No.” She pressed her lips together. “There are other letters. From your siblings.”

The concept of siblings was entirely foreign to him. “I don’t know them.”

“You don’t. Kunitake is living with his teacher, where the famine wasn’t as bad. But now that’s ended, he wants to live with your father again. And Otsuna,” This time, she swallowed hard. “Otsuna’s husband is dead, so she demands to be returned to your father.” Her hands trembled. She was scared. His mother, who hadn’t even flinched when a snake crawled into the kitchen, was scared.

Kotaro went to her and patted her leg in an attempt at reassurance. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

She didn’t respond, and in the years to come, he wished he had caught her expression in that moment.

His father’s cousin died not long after. Another month of letters followed, before it was confirmed that Otou-san would return to the city of Chiba and fulfill his new duties. He was home less often, preparing for the transition. Okaa-san silently packed his sketches and their clothing. Kotaro was completely unhappy about the move. He sulked and whined, but of course, that changed nothing.

He didn’t want to leave this house. Despite the leaky roof tiles and cracked floorboards, he liked the coziness. He liked racing around the yard, imagining he could fly when the wind blew. He liked writing kana, while Okaa-san ran her fingers through the threads on her loom. He liked sleeping in one futon between his parents. This was reinforced one night, when he woke feeling cold. He righted himself and spotted their shadows past the thin rice paper door.

“It’s been five years, people change. They were still children when you last saw them, and since they’ve been away,” Otou-san spoke in a low voice, “They’ve seen more of the world. It’s likely they’re more mature.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“No, I don’t. But it will be alright. I’ll do whatever I can, to provide for you and Kotaro.” He hesitantly reached for her.

Okaa-san jerked away, holding her hand close to her breast. “No. No. I won’t let you sweet-talk me into thinking that it’ll be fine. Not again.” She was breathing fast. “Leave me alone.” She stood and rapidly walked off. Instead of chasing after her, Otou-san lowered his head in resignation.

The scene made Kotaro ill at ease. When his father reentered the room, he pretended to be asleep.

The next morning, Okaa-san continued cleaning the house, as if nothing had happened. Kotaro didn’t want to ask about the argument–or he didn’t want to know. He occupied himself by holding a branch, throwing a leg over it, and galloping around the yard. “Will we have a yard like this?”

“Most likely.”

“But will it be better?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably not.” He decided aloud. “Unless there’s anyone I can play with.”

“Kotaro! Come here.”

He stopped mid-step and trudged over to her. He was apprehensive, expecting Okaa-san to scold him, or worse, spank him. But she didn’t do either. Instead, she looked like she was going to cry. When she spoke, her voice was uneven.

“Listen very carefully. The other children you’ll meet, they won’t be commoners and in fact, they’ll look down on commoners. They’ll look down on you, because of me. So, I want you to make a promise. If you hear any insult about your heritage, instead of thinking of me, you must think of your father.”

“Why?” He blurted.

“I can’t give you a life like your father can. You don’t realize how fortunate you are, and how it comes at the price of a reputation. More than anything, I want you to live well, but you need to be...like that tree.” She pointed to one of the trees, a maple fully adorned in green. “Standing tall. Bending if you must, but never breaking. And when change comes, change with it. Now, repeat what I said.”

“All of it?!”

“Yes.” Her eyes flashed, and his mouth pulled downwards. But he obeyed, memorizing her three rules. Once he could say them without prompting, Okaa-san caressed his hair. “Good boy. You’re so smart, you know? My Kotaro.” She beamed and lifted him, spun him around. As the world blurred before his eyes, he laughed with pure joy.

Koshijiro gingerly placed the painting of his mother in its own box. He would have to find a frame and arrange it next to Kyoko’s on the altar. Maybe, there was one buried amidst the rest of the mess.

But he’d search later. His entire body was weary and aching from labor. With the box tucked under his arm, he headed for the house. The sunshine was now aggressive, the air stifling. His skin instantly cooled once a roof was over his head again.

Koshijiro set the box on the altar, next to Kyoko’s picture. It was only fitting, since they never had the chance to meet in life. And when Kaoru was home, he would show her as well. He could imagine her smiling at the face of the grandmother she had never known, eagerly showing it to everyone else. Takani would remark on the unusual realism, Sagara noting a resemblance to “Jou-chan”. Yahiko would be curiously looking on. And Himura…where would his gaze be drawn?

Well, that was enough of such a delusion. He was lonely and tired, and his mind was crafting something better than his current situation. Nothing but time could bring them home anyway.

He blew out a sigh, leaned against the wall. Before he succumbed to an impromptu nap, his last thoughts were of his youth in that new house, and of tumultuous days.

The loom was not going with them. It was suitable for a village home, but not at all proper for where they were going. That was the explanation Okaa-san gave, and maybe, there was some truth in it.

On a day in early summer, two men each drove a cart up to their door. The men bowed to his father, who shifted uncomfortably. They had been the dead cousin’s retainers, and now, they served Otou-san. The futons were moved, then the largest storage containers. Kotaro was utterly disinterested in the transfer of their things, preferring to gaze at the horses from a distance. Otou-san left with the first cart, and Okaa-san settled him into the second. She arranged the items around him, before removing the bag that held her clothing and speaking to the retainer. Kotaro watched her, waiting for her to join him. He wondered if she would sing as they traveled.

She walked towards him, but didn’t pull herself into the cart. Her hair looked brown in the intense light of the setting sun. As she smoothed his front, her fingers trembled. However, her voice was calm when she delivered the blow.

“I’m not going with you.”

“What?”

“Your father has good intentions, but he’s often torn between his heart and mind. If I stay with you, there will be a day when he has to choose whom to protect, between the two of us. He must always, always pick you. So I can’t go, please understand.” She wiped her eyes, and tears rolled off her hand.

He didn’t, but his mother was going to cry and he didn’t want her to. “I understand.”

“Good boy.” She gasped, and then, she pulled him into a tight embrace. “I love you so much. Even when you think I hate you, I’ll always love you. Listen to your father, and never, ever be alone with either Otsuna or Kunitake. You’ll be just fine. I love you.”

She released him, and the cart began to move. Her figure was upright, his mother was unbreakable. Kotaro sat still, until he could no longer see her. He would not cry. He would not cry. Half an hour must have passed. The trees were unfamiliar, the road suddenly narrower. The sky darkened.

He hiccupped.

He cried.

The cart was close to the new house, and the nervous retainer picked up speed. Otou-san was at the gate, and he immediately ran to them. “Kotaro? Where’s your mother?”

Kotaro only kept crying and shook his head. Otou-san paled.

“She really went through with it.”

The next thing Kotaro knew, he was in a strange woman’s arms. Otou-san had taken one of the horses, and he snapped the reins, riding to the horizon. Before Kotaro was carried inside, he spotted the retainer’s very confused expression.

The strange woman set him down at a very large table, a gray lock of her hair falling loose. She was impassive to his whimpering and while her frame was stockier than his mother’s, her movements were equally efficient. She plucked the bones from a grilled fish, tossed the flesh with vegetables and rice, and slid the bowl in front of Kotaro. As an afterthought, she replaced the chopsticks with a spoon.

The hunger induced by travel and tears won over his stubbornness. He ate, bite by bite. The cook didn’t speak to him or touch him; once he started to eat, she nodded and proceeded to cook for everyone else. Other than the two retainers, there was an older samurai who was Otou-san’s direct assistant. The only women in the house were the maid and the gray-haired cook, who was deaf. She read lips, so the others tapped her shoulder when they needed something.

At such a moment, Kotaro took his chance. He scampered off, blindly, until he found a door. The alarmed voices behind him spurred him on, and he burst through. Night had just fallen, and a cold breeze hit him in the face. One of the retainers gripped his collar, chiding his mischievousness. After that, he was “put to bed”, or rather, locked in what was his own room.

Moving was a horrible, horrible thing. He wanted to go home, to Okaa-san and her loom and the yard with the maple tree. And he knew he couldn’t.

He slept in fits. Once, he thought someone entered the room, knelt beside him, and touched his cheek. Otou-san, he sluggishly registered. But in the morning, he woke up alone.

Living as a samurai’s son was a new experience. The courtyard was so clean, there wasn’t anything to play with, and he couldn’t touch the koi fish in the pond. The retainers greeted him but didn’t talk to him otherwise. The maid and cook were always busy, and so was his father. Every day, he was deposited at a building called a ‘school’, where a man talked on and on over a stack of books. Kotaro was suddenly thrust into pages of etiquette, transcribing lines with a splintered brush. There were four other boys, but they had their own lessons and ignored him. Occasionally, when he caught them looking at him, they turned away. After a month, he decided the new experience was boring.

He said as much, when Otou-san had a spare moment and asked how he was faring. Otou-san’s smile was strange and tight. “Then, how about this? I’ll take you fishing.”

Kotaro was so eager to get out, he didn’t think twice before vigorously nodding. They took a sole horse, and he sat in front, squeezing his eyes shut against the wind. He heard the river first, the loud sounds of moving water. When he was set down, the ground underneath was spongy yet firm.

Otou-san had brought two fishing rods; he demonstrated how to cast the line and reel in the hook. It was simple enough, but as Kotaro sat and waited for a fish to bite, he realized…

“This is boring too!”

“And that’s why you need to be patient.” Otou-san cheerfully said, as he leaned back. He was clearly enjoying himself. “Calm, deep breaths. The fish can sense if you’re fidgety. In, and out. Yes, that’s good. Keep doing that, and soon, you’ll have a catch.”

Kotaro pouted but obeyed. He did have to listen to Otou-san. While he continued to breathe at that deliberate rate, he slowly became aware of other things. A dragonfly, zipping along the reeds. The incessant rattle of cicadas and the whoosh of the horse’s tail. The heat of the sun on his head and shoulders, momentarily eased by the passing shadow of a bird. He also felt a sensation like floating yet within his own body. Then, there was a tug between his hands.

He jumped, jerking the fishing rod out of the water. Unfortunately, the hook was empty.

“That’s too bad.” Otou-san sympathized. “Do you want to try again?”

“…I don’t know.” Sleepiness pulled at him again, and Kotaro scrambled into his father’s lap. Otou-san froze at first, and then, he patted Kotaro’s hair.

“Yes, er, sleep if you need to. I should have remembered that you’re still young…”

Three fish ended up in their basket. Kotaro was jostled awake with each addition, but he shrugged off the disturbances with a grunt and adjustment in position. Following the last, he was lifted onto the horse again and they returned. The retainers bustled around them, leading the horse away and accepting their catch. Slightly drowsy, Kotaro didn’t protest when Otou-san took his hand and walked them to the empty yard. Otou-san glanced around. He knelt to Kotaro’s eye level, speaking in a hushed voice.

“I was waiting until you were comfortable living here, but I didn’t expect how often I’d be gone. While we’re alone…I should tell you now.” Otou-san closed his eyes, remembering. “‘Kotaro, I hope that you are minding yourself and those around you. You may not enjoy school, but it is necessary and you must endure it. I know you can. Remember what I told you. I love you.’” He opened his eyes again. “That was a message from your mother.”

“You talked to her?” Kotaro grabbed his sleeve. “Okaa-san?”

“Only once.”

“But you did. Where is she?”                               

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why? Why not? I want to know!”

Otou-san lifted his head to the clouds. After what seemed like an eon, he said. “I swore to her. You’ll understand when you are older.”

Understand? He didn’t understand anything. It was all beyond him. He hated being too young, he hated being told that he was too young.

“Then, I’ll show you! When I’m an adult, I’ll be nothing like you!”

“Kotaro-”

He never heard the rest, for he pivoted and sprinted to his room, slamming the door so hard it shook.

A small part of him hoped that Otou-san would follow him, apologize, and give in, explaining it all. But his father never did, and in his heart, the seeds of resentment began to sprout.

Otsuna and Kunitake were the children of his father’s first wife. Their father was a distant Kamiya cousin, who had died after Kunitake was born. They were adopted by Otou-san, when his marriage to their mother was arranged. Then, their mother passed away, and Otou-san cared for them like they were his own. But love had an ugly side to it, and Kotaro learned of it quickly.

Otsuna’s arrival was unannounced and at an hour when Otou-san was away from the house. Outwardly, she looked delicate and unassuming. Her hands were small and fair, and her eyes were demurely downcast. As she walked up the gravel path to the entrance, she smiled at the retainers, softly greeting them. Kotaro stayed just shy of the door. This was the person Okaa-san was so afraid of.

“Has my brother arrived yet?” She asked. “I would like to speak to him.”

One of the retainers made the mistake of introducing Kotaro, bringing him forward. Kotaro tried not to budge, but the man was much stronger. “Yes, he’s right here. Kotaro, greet your elder sister.”

He bowed his head. “Hello.”

There was no response, and he glanced upwards. Otsuna was still smiling, but the expression was fixed on. She tilted her head. “I had meant Kunitake, but yes, now I remember. There was this one.” Then, she walked past without acknowledging him.

The tension in the air was stifling, and one by one, everyone found excuses to leave. Kotaro escaped to his room. As much as he hated sleeping alone, he now had a reason to return to it. After Otou-san told him Okaa-san’s message, he had written it on a sheet of paper so he wouldn’t forget. On the other side, he had written the words Okaa-san drilled into his memory. Hidden in a small wooden box, the paper was his tie to his mother, when he didn’t know what to do.

Never, ever be alone with either Otsuna or Kunitake.

It was easier in the day, while he was at school. The hours were long but he did like sums, which were straightforward. Inevitably, he would have to return home. That was when the trouble began. Otsuna’s whereabouts varied at any time. Sometimes, she’d be visiting acquaintances and thankfully, unavailable. However, she never greeted him, and in turn, it was a tossup whether she’d appear or not.

Kotaro made the mistake of assuming the latter, when he returned to a quiet house at the end of the week. He felt like he could breathe and he headed for the courtyard, to visit the fattening koi fish. Although he couldn’t touch them, he had settled for watching them swim in lazy circles. He traced a path along the outer walls, focused on reaching the stone-lined pond. Engrossed as he was, he did not notice the shadowed figure on the porch until fingernails painfully tightened on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Otsuna towered over him. Her dark eyes were frightening, as if she was looking through him and not at him.

“Um…nothing?”

“Kotaro.” His name sounded brittle in her mouth. “Do you know who I am?”

“You are my older sister.”

“You will address me as ‘Ane-ue’. Did your mother not teach you proper respect? Oh, of course not. A coarse peasant like her would have never.”

“Okaa-san is not-”

“Okaa-san?” She repeated, but her voice was high and strange. When she laughed, his stomach turned. “She really did raise you as a commoner!” She grabbed his face, and he squirmed. Her voice adopted a hard edge. “And you look just like her. Are you really Keiichiro’s son?” Just as abruptly, she released him, her nails giving a last twist into his skin.

Tears swam across his vision. His cheeks hurt.

“What’s this? Are you going to cry?”

The high, strange, mocking tone chilled him. As he ran into the house, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He was so scared. And he felt alone. Sniffling and teary, he managed to stumble into his room. The door felt solid, protective. A barrier against sharp fingernails and cold eyes and intense pressure on his face. Well…he was alone but safe. And that made it alright.

Exhausted, he curled into a ball and fell asleep. When he woke, it was to a knock. He remained still, heart wildly beating. He couldn’t find his voice.

The door opened a crack, and the cook peered inside. Silently, she entered with her arm held close to her body, and behind her, a lantern illuminated the floor. He must have missed dinner. The cook knelt beside him and withdrew a rectangle, wrapped in bamboo leaf. Otou-san and the retainers often received these, and Kotaro knew it contained two large onigiri. He gingerly accepted the food, peeling the leaves away as the cook stared him down to ensure he ate.

“Thank you for the meal.” He said. He devoured one riceball and started on the second, before inquiring. “Is Otou-san home?” It wasn’t that he fully trusted his father, but Otou-san was the only one who could talk to Otsuna.

She shook her head. From the snatches of the retainers’ conversation, Kotaro had heard that Otou-san was on a manhunt.

“Oh.” As he continued to eat, the cook glanced over at his writing desk. A scroll of paper was open, from when he was transcribing sentences in kana. She lifted the paper and pointed to two separate characters. I. Chi. Then, again. It clicked in Kotaro’s mind. “Oichi-san?”

A glimmer of satisfaction came to her eyes and she nodded.

“I’ll remember.” He promised. He finished the remainder of his riceball and Oichi folded the bamboo leaves. “Can I always eat in my room?”

The disapproval on her face was easy to read.

“Sometimes?”

She inhaled and rolled her gaze away. But she hadn’t shaken her head, so it wasn’t a definite refusal.

“Um, one more thing? Do you know where Okaa-san is?”

This time, her expression changed and he was unable to identify it. Later, he would know it as ‘pity’. She stood, shaking her head, and departed. Her shadow took the lantern with her, and the dark evening enveloped him.

Kunitake arrived two weeks later. Otsuna eagerly embraced him and repeatedly said he was “skin and bones”. He looked average to Kotaro, in every respect. He was about twelve years old, and he narrowed his eyes at Kotaro. “Huh.” Giving a careless shrug, he walked away without further acknowledgement. For Kotaro, it wasn’t much better than Otsuna’s first impression, but he was now aware of what could lurk behind that initial indifference.

That evening, Otou-san was at dinner. It was the first in many nights, and Kotaro knew he couldn’t hide. Otsuna had arranged the seating, so she and Kunitake were directly to Otou-san’s left and right. Kotaro was sent to the end of the table, his cushion full of uneven lumps. The food was good, but Kotaro felt sorry for Oichi. After the first dish, Otsuna left the table and practically shouted at the cook, to give another serving to Kunitake, who had suffered so much because of the famine. They all heard, and Otou-san excused himself too. Kotaro watched as he headed to the kitchen. His quieter voice was inaudible, but Otsuna’s shouting receded in his presence.

And now, Kotaro was alone with Kunitake. The older boy was still eating, seeming bored. His gaze slid to Kotaro. “Those were my clothes.”

“Oh.” He glanced down at the blue cloth. “I didn’t know.”

“Aren’t they too rough?” For Kotaro, they were softer than the clothes he used to have, but he didn’t respond. The moment passed, and Kunitake continued. “I could give you better ones.”

That sudden kindness was surprising. “Really?”

“If you pay me enough.” He crunched a few pickles. “Huh, these are good. Otsuna was right to ask for more. What’s that look on your face for?”

“Pay you…money?”

“I’m not picky. I just want to make a trade. Giving things for free is how people grow weak. Oh, and it has to be something I want. I won’t settle for anything else.”

Kotaro had already decided this was too much trouble. He shook his head. “I don’t want to trade.”

“Why not? You get something you want and I get something I want.”

“But I like these clothes.”

Kunitake narrowed his eyes. “Huh. That’s why peasants never get anywhere in life. And they start so young…”

Otsuna returned, miffed but holding her chin high. She set a plate in front of Kunitake. “I did it for you, so be grateful.”

“Yes, thank you, Ane-ue.” Kunitake drawled.

A shadow cast over the table, as soft, heavier footsteps sounded. “Kotaro? I know we haven’t spoken today. How are you faring?”

For the first time during the meal, he looked up at Otou-san and was startled. His father had dark circles under his eyes, and his cheekbones were sharper. The manhunt must have been hard for him. Just as those words came to mind, the resentment did as well. Kotaro glanced away. “Fine.”

“Have you been making friends?”

“…Not really.”

Kunitake interrupted. “Friends are alright, as long as you don’t make them carelessly.”

Otou-san slowly said. “Yes, it’s important to get along with other people and forge good connections. But it is just as important to recognize that finding companionship is natural.”

“Of course,” Otsuna murmured. “Appropriate companionship is acceptable, if you mind the consequences.”

“That’s enough!” Otou-san raised his voice, and a stunned silence descended upon the room. “Otsuna and Kunitake, as long as you live under this roof, you will respect your brother.”

“Yes, Chichi-ue.”

“Yes.”

Despite their bowed heads, Otou-san was unhappy. “I know five years has been a long time, and this is a new residence. But didn’t those five years teach you about the world? You must find people to rely on, and one day, Kotaro will be someone you can rely on. If you behave as elder siblings should.” He exhaled. “Now, let’s finish our dinner in peace.”

Otou-san meant to reach their hearts, but it was five years too late. For Otsuna and Kunitake, there was already no space for Kotaro.

And that was why he found refuge in kenjutsu.

Kunitake had lessons at a dojo, owned by a Kamiya in-law. Kotaro expected he would follow suit and dreaded the experience. One morning, the maid gave him a worn uniform, and he dragged his feet in preparing. Then, he stayed out of sight, peering around the house’s corner and watching the hitching of the horses to the cart. He ducked when Otsuna saw Kunitake off. Maybe, if he kept hiding, they would leave without him-

“Ah, there you are, Kotaro.” Otou-san placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

Utterly dejected, he trudged to the cart. There was a pleased glint in Kunitake’s gaze, as he caught the old uniform. Otou-san joined the driver at the front, and they began to move.

The building was mostly concealed by pine trees, the sign bearing bold calligraphy. Kunitake headed towards the gate, offering a nonchalant goodbye. However, as Kotaro was about to follow, Otou-san stopped him. “No, we’ll keep moving.” With a flick of the reins, the horses continued.

Kotaro blinked. “I’m not learning kenjutsu?”

“You will, although you won’t be learning here. Instead, you’ll receive lessons from my teacher. If he’ll have you, I think you’ll be a better student than I was.”

The cart traveled on, and they arrived at a small dojo on the outskirts of town. A vegetable patch lined one side and dead leaves were strewn about, although the front steps were clean. Otou-san entered familiarly, calling out. “Sensei!” As Kotaro would later learn, Sensei’s real name was Iida Toyoharu. He was a slight old man, with a long white beard and thick eyebrows. But he stood upright and moved gracefully across the floorboards.

“This is my son, Kotaro.”

“Kotaro…” Sensei scrutinized him with deep-set eyes. “Hm, you did mention him. How old is he?”

“This year, he will be seven.”

“Good, good.” He sniffed. They proceeded to talk about Otou-san’s work and people Kotaro had never heard of before. Kotaro took the opportunity to examine the dojo. Small boards were nailed to the walls, but when he touched one, his finger came away covered in dust. The ink was chipping too; if Kotaro squinted, he could see empty gaps within the kanji.

Otou-san eventually said. “I would like for Kotaro to learn kenjutsu. Sensei, I humbly ask you to teach him.”

Instantly, Sensei’s hand whacked the side of Otou-san’s head. “Doesn’t anything get through your thick skull?! I’m retired! Retired!”

“Well, you’re still fit, so I assumed-”

“Bah!” His lip curled. “You think I can live forever?”

“And Kotaro would be a good successor. He’d carry on your message, in life and in kenjutsu. I’ll leave him with you for today, so you don’t have to take my word.”

“No, I won’t.” Sensei pivoted, beckoning Kotaro with a flapping hand. “Come here, come here. Hm…” He surveyed Kotaro’s face, encouraged him to turn around once. “Hm. Alert and obedient, very good. The shyness will take cracking, but that’s easy to do. Now, I haven’t agreed! Since you came all this way, I’ll evaluate him.”

“Thank you, Sensei!” Otou-san beamed. “Kotaro, I’ll return in the afternoon. Behave, and listen to Sensei.”

“…yes.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon.” Otou-san quickly ruffled Kotaro’s hair, before striding out. As soon as he was gone, Kotaro smoothed the strands back into place.

Sensei cleared his throat. “Dusty, isn’t it?”

Kotaro nodded.

“Good, you’re honest! It should be cleaned, hm? Let’s start.”

Wet rags and brooms in hand, they cleaned the dojo. Kotaro expected to be bored, but surprisingly, Sensei liked to talk. “What have you been learning? Kanji?”

“Yes, I can write a few sentences.”

“Excellent. You must have worked hard.”

“I want to do more.”

Sensei’s laugh was crackly. “That ambition wasn’t inherited from your father. What else?”

“Math. Paintings, sometimes.” He didn’t quite understand why though. “And the four classes.”

“The four classes.” Sensei repeated. “I suppose they taught you how important and illustrious samurai are.”

Kotaro didn’t respond. He squeezed his rag over a bucket, filling it with more dirty water.

“Isn’t it true your mother was a commoner?”

“Yes.”

“Bah! So you understand that it’s all nonsense! They would teach you that the world is proper and harmonious, but it’s far from it in reality. There is no peace.” Sensei waggled his finger. “The rich remain rich and drunk on power. The shogun grows fatter, while the people suffer. My son was killed in broad daylight, and it’s only thanks to your father’s kindness that my daughter can make a living.”

“Your daughter?”

“Oichi. She cooks for your household.”

“I do know her. She kept me away from…trouble, so she’s nice.”

For a while, Sensei was quiet. At length, he said. “Well, I expect you in the morning. Tell your father you’ll start lessons tomorrow, at the hour of the dragon. And don’t be late! Punctuality is the first step to proper discipline.”

He wasn’t late. Otou-san was too pleased Sensei had accepted and ensured they beat the sun to the dojo. Once he was alone with Sensei, he was given a shinai. Kotaro looked over it with trepidation, until Sensei snapped his fingers to catch his attention. Sensei would demonstrate, Kotaro would mirror, and any mistakes would be corrected before completing the task on his own. They started with the movements, shuffling forwards and back. Then, the grip and posture. By noon, Kotaro was practicing swings and forward thrusts.

“Very good!” Sensei approved, giving a little sniff. “Now, one more time!”

The smell of wax and incense. The feel of bamboo in his hands. The strain and sweat and success when he understood a motion, in mind and body.

This…this was where he belonged.

The seasons changed. With the new year, he turned seven. Unfortunately, he also fell ill with a cold. While he sweated under a thick blanket in his room, he overheard an argument outside the sliding door.

“That boy won’t be going anywhere. But we must celebrate at the shrine, or we will invite evil spirits.” Otsuna sounded extremely serious.

Otou-san responded. “I’ve said it before, the two of you can go on your own. You’re certainly old enough. I’ll stay with Kotaro.”

“You spent last year with him, and the year before, and the year before that. It’s our turn.” That was Kunitake.

Kotaro pulled the blanket over his head and closed his ears. Fine, if they wanted Otou-san that much, they could have him! It wasn’t as if he asked to get sick. He twisted in his futon, wishing the feeling of shame away.

When his bedroom door opened, he peeked to see Oichi. She moved the blanket a little, to place a warm cloth on his forehead.

“I don’t want it.” He protested.

Oichi pointed to his stomach.

“I’m not hungry either. I hate not celebrating.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she mimicked throwing something. He had taken his meals in bed, missing out on the bean throwing. When he didn’t react at her intention, she straightened and beckoned him to follow her. As he shuffled in her wake to the kitchen, he could tell that the house was empty. Of course, his father had given in. Whatever he was feeling, it certainly wasn’t disappointment.

Oichi gave him seven beans and opened the sliding door a hand’s width. Cold winter air seeped through. She crossed her arms, grimacing. Be quick about it, her posture was saying.

“Thank you.” He said. He vaguely remembered doing this the previous year, and flung the beans outside. They didn’t fly far, skipping off the porch to land in the snow. “Demons out, luck in.” It wasn’t nearly as satisfying now. He turned to Oichi. “What about yours?”

She wryly shook her head, and extending her arm, she grabbed the door’s edge. Back to bed.

He spared a last look at the pits in the snow. “Next time, I’ll give you some of mine, so you can throw them.”

At that, Oichi smiled.

Kotaro succumbed to a dreamless rest. When he woke again, night was approaching. He blinked. Otou-san was in his room, holding a lantern and bent over his desk. Upon Kotaro’s quiet rustling, he noticed and drew closer. “How are you feeling?”

Kotaro shrugged, as Otou-san pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Well, you’re not as warm. Now, I have something to share with you.” He held up a piece of paper. “The shrine’s priest recognized me, he used to work in our old village when you were a baby, and he said he was told to give this to me. But really, it’s meant for you. Here.”

Kotaro gingerly took it. As it unfolded, he started to read.

Kotaro,

I pray that you’re behaving and listening to your father. I pray that you’re healthy and content. Have you learned many things? Have you grown taller? These are my thoughts, so know that you are always on my mind.

By the time you receive this, I will be long gone. I’m sewing and doing good work, so there’s no need to worry about me. I only wanted to express this to you, that I miss you.

There was no signature. But he could hear his mother’s voice.

He gripped the paper, suddenly dizzy with excitement. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since…I assume she sent this through other people, to get it to this priest.” Otou-san hesitated. “Can you hold onto it? Keep it safe?”

“I will.” He stared at Okaa-san’s handwriting, transfixed again. “I can keep it in a box.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Because Kotaro was still weak, Otou-san rummaged around for a plain wooden box and after sliding the paper inside, he left it on a shelf. With a last touch on Kotaro’s shoulder, he said. “Sleep well.”

And with another longing glance at the box, Kotaro did so, smiling.

Under the heat of the afternoon sun, they had been walking in silence for some time. At last, Sensei said. “What have you learned today?”

Kotaro struggled for the right words. “…Dojo breaking is pressuring.”

“That’s a fair assessment but not the best one.”

Over the past three years, they had traveled to the dojos of Sensei’s former students. Today was no different. However, it was the first time Kotaro was witness to a challenge. While he had been learning from the pleasant older students, a group of men had burst in, demanding for the opportunity to fight. The glinting metal of their swords forced Kotaro to the sidelines, unable to look away. The intruders lost, yet the victory was slim and more than a few of the kind students were injured. Kotaro helped in dressing their bloody wounds and though he washed his hands, his fingertips were cold. Sensei had scowled the entire hour.

“Dojo breaking is asking for trouble!” Sensei exclaimed. “Disrupting the peace!” That was a favorite phrase of his.

“It was dangerous.” Kotaro agreed. “Is that why I don’t carry a real sword?” Most ten-year-olds already did, having discarded wood and bamboo. But Kotaro still hadn’t touched steel.

“To learn the sword, real blades should not be used.”

“But you said one never stops learning.”

“And that’s true! As long as you’re in a dojo, a place of education and discipline, you must not harm another person seeking that same knowledge. Those hooligans who barged in, they claimed to be seeking honor, but there is no honor in a false superiority. Of course, the sword is necessary in this world! But you must handle it with responsibility.” Sensei added.

“I understand.”

He did like it though. He had to work hard, especially with Sensei constantly at his heels, but it paid off in sparring matches. In the other dojos, he was taken seriously and praised for being mature. To the sword, social status, age, and class did not matter. Already, he was often assigned to guide the youngest boys. When the little ones turned and struck in unison, he felt proud. He could have taught their sisters as well; some had jealously watched the start of lessons, only to be steered away by their mothers.

Well, when he opened his own dojo, he’d make sure it was open to everyone. That wasn’t the only reason he wanted to grow up quickly. Once he became an adult, he would try to see his mother again.

Okaa-san had sent a letter each year. Her messages were consistent, wishing the best for him and wondering how he had grown. He scoured them for details. She shared that she was in a different domain, although it was not far. While she continued to sew for a living, she was learning about herbs. She lived alone. The information was extremely scant, but after living with his siblings, he had realized why she couldn’t stay. The box of letters was wedged under his desk, not readily noticeable. Occasionally, while he was studying, he would touch it for comfort. It would only be five years before he had his genpuku, like Kunitake.

His older brother was rarely home, for he was accompanying Otou-san on patrol. Although Kunitake remained single-minded on gaining advantage, he had become cleverer about it. He knew how to talk, and mysteriously, officials liked his thick flattery.

Kotaro was still deep in thought when he arrived home. He trudged past the gate, absently greeting Oichi who was drawing water from the well, and walked down the hallway.

“Kotaro. Kotaro!”

He was startled. Otsuna was calling for him, his name still strange in her voice after four years. There was a smile plastered on her face, not reaching her cold eyes. She was sitting at the table with three unfamiliar women.

“Come here, and greet my friends.”

He didn’t move. His heart was pounding, his fingers colder.

The women brushed off the awkwardness. “Oh, don’t bother him.”

“He must be shy.” Their conversation continued, and Kotaro took that chance to slip out.

However, when his sister was furious, hiding was ineffective. Once the guests departed, Otsuna entered his bedroom. Before he could protest, she hissed. “You embarrassed me in front of those women! Did you know who they were? The daughters of a metsuke. Kunitake is being considered as one of his assistants, so if you’ve ruined his chances, you will have to deal with me.” Her expression nasty, she spun on her heel and glided away. Her fingernails had pierced the rice paper on his door. He carefully counted his breaths, the way Otou-san taught him. Then, he went to find new paper.

Other than meditation, Otou-san and Kotaro were very different. Kotaro respected Otou-san’s devotion to the arts, but he couldn’t really understand what Otou-san was saying. Otou-san practically lit up when he found a new subject or a beautiful piece for sale, eagerly talking to Kotaro about the finer aspects. Kotaro would nod along, agreeing. He may have learned a thing or two, but he could never retain much more.

It was probably better this way. If he was any closer to Otou-san, he could have suffered more than face grabs and threats.

He retrieved the new paper and was about to return to his room, when Kunitake nonchalantly emerged.

“What are you doing?” Kotaro blurted.

“Nothing.” A sly smile, and then, he strode away. As soon as he turned the corner, Kotaro threw open the door to find nothing out of place. But now, he was nervous and he made the mistake of moving his precious box. On his cluttered shelf, he arranged scrolls and inkstones to camouflage it.

The following day, he only had morning lessons. He planned to finish some reading in his room, and he scanned the shelf. The books were there, but the box was not. It was gone. His gut clenched.

When he stumbled into the hallway, he did see the box, but it was clasped in the hands of Kunitake. His elder brother smirked. “Looking for something?”

Energy surged through him, from head to toe. These were infinitely precious, the affirmations of Okaa-san’s love.

He was not going to lose them.

Kunitake rattled the box. “What’s this? A letter? Do you have a sweetheart?”

“Give it back!”

“What will you give me for it?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what you want! But you can’t have this!”

“Well, it’s too late for that. I’m holding it, aren’t I?”

With that, Kotaro decided. He’d had enough. And with a loud cry, he kicked his older brother in the groin. Kunitake immediately crumpled, howling. Kotaro grabbed the box and bolted. He nearly collided with Otsuna, who had just turned the corner. Her gaze locked on the scene, then on Kotaro.

“What did you do? What did you do?!” With a scream, her outstretched fingers lunged for his face.

But unlike three years ago, Kotaro was stronger and faster. He could tell where she was aiming. He dodged and thrust his shoulder against her ribcage, pushing her aside. The footsteps of the retainers were approaching, and Kotaro fearfully glanced behind him. Kunitake, thrashing about and wailing as he clutched the area between his legs. Otsuna, arm braced against the wall, her mouth round in shock at his defiance. He had done this.

So, he ran. He ran past the gate, down the street, randomly taking different paths. His legs burned and he couldn’t draw enough breath, but he kept running. Dust flew into his eyes and he futilely wiped at the tears.

At last, he heard the river. He slowed to a walk, to a stagger, before kneeling in the spongy ground. He remained there, unmoving and listless. He had lost his temper and fought back against his siblings. There was no going back from this, not at all. And he dreaded the retribution. His mind played horrible scenarios, revolving around biting pain, shrill voices, and the gleam of the retainers’ katanas.

Otou-san found him shivering and hugging the box. Neither of them spoke, while Otou-san quietly dismounted his horse to crouch beside him. The moving water made sounds, but to Kotaro, they were muffled.

“Those are your mother’s letters?”

Kotaro’s teeth chattered. “Yes.”

“I see. I think it’s best if we don’t leave them at home. Can you find a good hiding place?”

“The dojo?”

“The dojo would be fine, if Sensei will agree to it. Shall we go see him?”

“I don’t want to go with you.”

“…I was worried when you ran off like that. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You don’t care. You leave me alone with them.” Kotaro abruptly stood.

“I only want you to get along.”

“We’re never going to get along. I’m ten and I know that.”

At this point, the retainers arrived with the cart. Although they were relieved, Otou-san instructed them to take Kotaro to Sensei’s dojo. “If you leave now, you’ll be back by nightfall. I’ll talk to Otsuna and Kunitake. Please keep Kotaro safe.”

If Sensei was surprised to see Kotaro again, he didn’t show it. When Kotaro wordlessly offered the box to him, he glanced inside and understood. “Hm, I had a feeling this would happen. You’re welcome any time, if you need to be reassured.”

Kotaro nodded, his head low.

The next morning, they had a peaceful breakfast. No raised voices, no fast movements. Everyone was on their best behavior. On the surface, it seemed nothing had happened, although Kotaro didn’t want to even look at his siblings. He was afraid of what he would see, if he did.

He didn’t have long to agonize over it. Shortly after, Otsuna’s marriage was arranged. She handled it with more grace than expected, although she was probably happy Kunitake was now that metsuke’s assistant. The house bustled with preparations, yet amidst the tailoring and packing, Otsuna spoke once to Kotaro. She was sitting on the porch, drinking tea, and her sudden outburst stopped him as he was trying to move past her. “I know those letters were from your mother.”

“Huh?” His instinct was that Otou-san had said something. Anger flared inside him. In addition, he had been running errands for a bit of change. The coins were hidden at Sensei’s, for safekeeping, but his goal was to travel to the surrounding domains and look for Okaa-san. If Otsuna knew that as well, his hard work was about to crumble.

“Or, supposedly they are.” Otsuna continued. “Personally, I think they were forged by Chichi-ue, out of pity.”

Kotaro held his tongue. The handwriting was markedly different, and if Otou-san wanted to pity him, he could have spun a better story about Okaa-san, instead of providing vague details. But it seemed Otsuna had never seen the letters and that was a small comfort. “Ane-ue, you’re free to think what you want.”

She scoffed. “That impudence! You’ve inherited it. That sharp tongue needed lashing, she was so disrespectful to Chichi-ue!”

“I’m not listening to what you say about my mother. You hate her.”

The response was immediate. “I hate your mother because she bewitched Chichi-ue. While my mother was dying, he was away from her bedside, to be with that bitch. Meanwhile, Kunitake and I suffered…and then, she had to get pregnant! With a son, so she could improve her standing. Your mother’s plan of seducing Chichi-ue was cowardly and devious.” Otsuna clearly thought that his mother was wicked to the core.

“I don’t believe you.” He bluntly said. “And it doesn’t matter! I don’t care.” And the words felt true. “Whatever happened is between them. It’s not my fault I was born.”

“And it’s because you were born, that Kunitake’s position was endangered. Well, his future is secure, so now I have nothing to worry about.” She shrugged. A shrug, after all this pain she had inflicted. It may have been for someone else’s sake, but that didn’t make any of it right.

Without saying any more, he kept walking. In that moment, he only felt glad she was leaving.

The wedding reception was held at the groom’s household, and because he had business ties to the Kamiya clan, Kotaro was introduced to relatives he never met before. He managed to memorize the different family lines in his mind, but it was a lot to take in a short period of time. When he had a free moment to spare, he searched for a quiet place in the courtyard. However, someone was already there.

A figure in a dark kimono was crouched close to the ground. She was about nineteen years old, her hair pulled into a plain bun. Upon the crackling of leaves under his shoes, the woman tensed, keeping her body positioned away. “Ah, you’re Otsuna’s brother.”

Kotaro stiffly nodded. “Yes. Who are you?”

“I’m one of your cousins, Orin. I knew your sister when we were younger and I was told to sort the wedding gifts, although this one…” She showed him a tiny birdcage, entrapping a warbler. It cocked its brown head and fluttered its wings.

“Did you steal it?”

“No, it was listless, so I thought it needed air. I feel so sorry for it.” Orin said.

The beady eyes stared at Kotaro. “Then, let’s set it free.”

“Eh? I suppose that would be the obvious solution. But what should we do about the empty cage?”

“Hide it? It’s small. Too small, so we should save the bird. Let’s break the lock.” He began searching for a stone heavy enough to do the job.

Orin smiled. “I have a little son, he’s only a year old, but I hope he’ll be as kind as you.”

The praise embarrassed him. “Where’s your son?”

“For today, he’s with my mother. My husband’s in a different town, studying to become a doctor.”

He picked up a rock, weighing it between his hands. “Then, why aren’t you with him now?”

“That’s a good question. It’s because we made a promise to each other. If he can become the best doctor the world has seen, I will not be a burden to him. I want him to focus on his work, without having to worry about me. That’s how I can help him. When the promise is fulfilled, I’ll join him.”

Kotaro pondered over her words as he struck the rock against the lock. With a definitive blow, it broke.

“There we are!” Orin exclaimed. She pulled the door open, offering the blue sky to the bird. “Go on.”

It didn’t move immediately, the beady eyes perfectly still. It puffed up. One clawed foot touched the ground behind it. Then, with a loud series of flaps and a blur of brown feathers, it took off. Kotaro squinted against the sun, the glare nearly blocking out the bird’s silhouette, before the creature swooped and disappeared into the tree line.

“Goodbye.” He belatedly said.

“That was a good thing we did.” Orin declared. “I need to return, but it was a pleasure to meet you at last, Kotaro. Perhaps, one day, you can visit us.”

“I hope so.” He bowed his head and his cousin echoed what a well-behaved child he was.

The broken cage was deposited in a tangle of bushes. It was still there, cast in the growing shadows of dusk, when he climbed into the cart. Kunitake sat up front, yawning. It had been a long day, and it was time to return home. The newlyweds shared parting words with his father.

“I wish you well, Otsuna.” Otou-san said.

“Thank you, Chichi-ue.” She murmured. “Kunitake, I pray…that you will receive everything you deserve.” Her voice wobbled, and she turned her face into her sleeve. She did not say goodbye to Kotaro. He avoided her white-clad form too, as the cart moved away.

He never heard from her again. Kunitake received letters from her, but he never shared the contents. That was perfectly fine with Kotaro.

And so, time passed. Adulthood was approaching for Kotaro, and as such, he accompanied Otou-san during the day. He was given a map of the patrol routes and learned to traverse them on horseback. He felt self-conscious, visibly maneuvering through the crowds. Any glances in his direction were quickly diverted. It was terribly nerve-wracking; he greatly preferred using the three weapons.

Before his first day, Otou-san had demonstrated the techniques. The sodegarami, tsukubo, and sasumata were designed to capture without killing. Grabbing a sleeve, or tripping feet, or restraining a limb were appealing to Kotaro. He mirrored his father’s motions with each weapon, feeling more confident with each iteration.

Otou-san was impressed. “You look so comfortable, even without a blade. This is why I brought you to Sensei. I wanted you to understand that violence is not necessary in apprehending people.”

“Because it happens too often?”

“So you know?”

“I’ve heard stories.” Kotaro said. A recent one was of a man, mistaken for another who had committed fraud against a group of influential merchants. His indignance upon arrest was repaid with a severe beating and broken leg. It was later discovered he had an alibi, but there was no apology from the samurai. Verbally, at least. Kotaro recalled his brother pointing out their monthly budget was lower, for no apparent reason.

“Unsatisfying stories.” Otou-san shook his head. “Your teacher would have something to say about it...”

The unspoken remainder was ‘if he had the energy’. Sensei fell ill more frequently, and although his spirit hadn’t diminished, he was more pensive. “As expected of your youth, you’re outstripping me. However, I’ve noticed how good you are, as a teacher. Consider going to the Motomiya Shin dojo, in Takaoka Domain. They could use you and you’d learn a great deal in turn. Their methods are different, but they don’t use real swords.”

Kotaro seriously mulled it over. It was a new opportunity, and although he would have to leave town, he held no special feelings for his current residence. To him, home had always been that tile-roofed house with its mud walls and single maple tree. Right now, red leaves would have adorned the yard where he played without a care. “I’m interested. I’ll mention it to my father.”

“See that you do.”

If Otou-san was surprised, he hid it well. He only said. “If that’s what you’d like to pursue, I’ll support you.” A correspondence with Motomiya-sensei began, planning for a visit in the following summer.

During that winter of Kotaro’s fourteenth year, Kunitake was married to another samurai’s daughter. The wedding was small, and after the couple drank from their cups at the shrine, they departed for their new residence. Technically, it had once belonged to Kunitake’s biological father, and he was fulfilling his inheritance now. For the last time, Kotaro exchanged a few sentences with Kunitake, mostly platitudes.

“So, it will just be you and Chichi-ue.” Kunitake forcefully smiled. “I wonder if you’ll be lonely.”

“I believe we’ll be alright. I wish you good fortune, Ani-ue.” He mechanically said.

“Thank you.” Then, he moved on to speak with someone else. Kotaro wasn’t offended; it was better they weren’t around each other for too long.

But the conversation lingered in his thoughts, as it had reinforced an idea.

For the first time in nearly a decade, he was alone with his father. But he wasn’t a little boy anymore. He had changed, and not all of it was positive. His experience with Otsuna and Kunitake had hardened him. He was serious and quiet, because a word out of line would have brought their retaliation. He was meticulous, because he had to prove himself to his peers every day. He had to look over his shoulder all the time, and now, that burden had been lifted. Of course, he was relieved they were gone, but he was also apprehensive. He thought of the caged bird he had freed with Orin, how it hesitated before flying away. It must have asked the same question he was considering.

Now what?

He hadn’t decided, and soon, they were celebrating the beginning of another year. Kotaro underwent his coming-of-age ceremony. It wasn’t as grand as Kunitake’s, because he didn’t have any connections to higher-ranking men. However, the hearty congratulations of those he did know were enough. Otou-san’s friends and their household retainers were eager to fill his cup of sake, until Sensei protested. “Bah! Leave him be, all of you! He can barely breathe.”

Oichi had cooked foods he liked and smiled wider than he’d ever seen. When she first saw him in his new clothing, she firmly squeezed his shoulder and her eyes shone with affection. He nervously smiled in return. The expression became fixed, when his fellow kenjutsu practitioners visited. Throughout the day, there was a constant barrage of compliments and fond sentiments.

Embarrassed at the amount of attention, he was almost glad when Otou-san privately called him aside.

“I’m happy that you’ve reached this safely and in good health.” Were those tears in his eyes? “You’ve been waiting for it, for quite a long time. And…I can guess why. I’ve felt the same way, since that summer.” That day, when his mother’s upright figure disappeared into the horizon.

Kotaro swallowed. “I just want to know if Okaa-san’s well.” The message was a month early this time. Okaa-san had recognized he was about to enter adulthood, and he could easily recall her words.

In my head, there is only the little boy. I can still remember your little hands, although they must be carrying a sword by now. Are you well? Are you content? If I could, I would very much like to see what kind of young man you’ve become.

He had enough money to travel to the relatively near Sakura Domain. From her brief descriptions of her environment, he deduced she was living there. He had been counting the days after Kunitake’s wedding, and he planned to take a horse by the end of the week.

“I understand. But first, there is something I need to do for you.”

Kotaro followed him to his desk, where everything had been prepared. A clean sheet of paper, freshly ground ink. Otou-san lifted the brush; with the other hand, he held his sleeve. His writing was careful, elegant, self-assured. When he finished, he turned the paper towards Kotaro.

Three bold characters met his eyes.

“Koshijiro. Because you are my son, who was given a path in life and has surpassed it. I’m proud of you.”

He was supposed to be pleased, but he couldn’t muster any excitement. This made the change final. The boy named Kotaro was gone. Numbly, he murmured. “…Thank you.”

And Koshijiro bowed.

The postal worker slid the envelope across the counter. “There you are.”

Koshijiro exhaled. “It’s about time.” Only yesterday, he finished cleaning the shed, yet it seemed ages ago. The lingering soreness from the labor and the mental fatigue from work were forgotten as he took the letter. He held it close to his body, maintaining a tight grip the entire way home. Summer had lengthened the days, and dusk wouldn’t happen for some time. Nevertheless, he walked briskly, eager to read the long-awaited letter from Kyoto.

Takani was at the gate, and he called out to her. She turned her head. “Oh, Kamiya-san. I was just locking up, there’s a patient I have to see. I borrowed the kitchen.” She lifted the bundle in her hand, wrapped in a colorfully patterned cloth. “I’m taking my portion with me, but yours is on the counter.”

“Thank you. I’ll compensate you for the cost of the ingredients.”

“It’ll have to be later, I really need to hurry.” She glanced at the envelope, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “By then, I expect some news too.”

“Of course. Travel safely.”

“Naturally, I will. I’ll stop by tomorrow.” With a little wave, she was off.

The box on the counter was still warm, and he was grateful for the food. Afterwards, he took the small knife he used for opening letters and opened the sliding door, so the sunset would provide enough light to read by. He set a book onto the envelope, slipped the blade underneath the edge, and slowly tore away at the crease. It was terribly tedious, but his determination outweighed his annoyance. Within the envelope, there were two pieces of paper, in markedly different handwriting. The one with sloppier, larger kanji was definitely Yahiko’s. It was also shorter and he read it first.

Dear Kamiya-san,

Kaoru made me write this, even after she explained everything. Do I have to keep writ

The food is good here, but the flavors are blander. The futon’s not too bad. The Shirobeko’s really busy, but the people are nice enough. It’s just a little lonely because there’s no one here who’s my age. But I will endure it, because I am a swordsman.

I’ll have more to write about next time. I hope.

Yahiko

He stifled a laugh. Well, this was a good learning experience for Yahiko. Written communication was important for everyone in this age, and judging from the retracted sentence, it seemed the boy had been told as much. He set the paper aside and moved on to Kaoru’s.

Dear Otou-san,

How have you been? I hope you’re not too lonely. I’m sorry if this arrives later than expected, we’ve still been adjusting and I must have rewritten this one ten times. The next one will be quicker.

Sae-san is treating us well, and everyone at the Shirobeko is kind. They send their best wishes to the Akabeko. Here, Yahiko and I are usually given small tasks, like buying groceries or sweeping the dining area. We put up posters of Kenshin nearby, but the rain here destroyed them. It’s summer, so it’s expected, but it was frustrating. Instead, we’re trying a different tactic. The Shirobeko is well-established and has many business ties, including inns and other restaurants. Yahiko and I have been making rounds, asking permission to leave a poster with each building. If Kenshin stops at any of them, we’ll be told. As of writing this letter, no one has spotted him yet.

I haven’t given up. I’m sure we’ll see him soon.

Meanwhile, I cleared enough space in the back so Yahiko and I can practice. Just because we’re away from the dojo, that doesn’t mean he can slack off! I’m not worried though; he’s motivated to be stronger. Isn’t that such a change from a few months ago, when he didn’t want to learn Kamiya Kasshin? It really is rewarding.

Could you let Tae and Tsubame know that we’re alright? Megumi too, I suppose. And if we ever see Kenshin (or Sanosuke), we’ll send a telegram. It’ll be much faster that way.

I miss you. I look forward to your letter.

Your daughter,

Kaoru

Koshijiro smiled fondly. He read the letters again, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything, before heading inside.

Chapter Text

With his damp sleeve, Koshijiro wiped his brow again. This was the first time he had vigorously practiced, in nearly a year. He was out of shape, and he needed the book he had begun writing. His movements were slightly off, a missed step or swing here and there, but overall, his body remembered more than he initially thought. And he believed he had worked out the balance issue. With some help from his teeth, he had tied small weights around his left shoulder. But he moved better, with this bokken shortened for one-handed use. That was key, because his hits required greater precision to compensate for the decreased range. If he dedicated his free time to practice, he could return to his former level of fitness. Hopefully, that would be soon.

If Shishio came to Tokyo, there was no way Koshijiro could stand on the sidelines. Shishio’s forces were not to be underestimated; it would not be a fight like at Takeda’s mansion.

Orders from the top had ensured that the officers were diligent and able-bodied. Koshijiro remained quiet when they grumbled over the sudden emphasis on drills. He noticed their progress, as well as the slight increase in official visits. A quick check-in, another survey of the police force. Of course, those were flimsy excuses to Koshijiro and he remained alert for any word of an attack on Kyoto.

The chilled sweat on his skin drew his attention. He wasn’t satisfied yet, he needed to continue. Lifting the bokken, he stepped into the kata again.

Okaa-san’s letters typically arrived in the early half of a month, and he timed his venture to Sakura Domain appropriately. He took his savings with him, loose change accumulated over the years exactly for this purpose. He assumed his best chances of finding her were to go through the religious figures, who must have passed her letters along. The following three days were spent on inquiry, and for the most part, the priests and nuns were helpful. Eventually, he found himself in one of the larger towns, sharing his story yet again to a middle-aged priest.

The man nodded. “Yes, I know her and I usually expect her around this time. If you could assist in the shrine’s upkeep, I can offer you a bed and a meal. You’ll have to accommodate your horse elsewhere.”

It was generous enough for Koshijiro. “Thank you. I’m very grateful.” He set out once more for a stable and a bathhouse. Dusty and travel-worn as he was, he couldn’t greet his mother like this.

Time dragged on. Under the priest’s direction, he performed menial tasks, sweeping the grounds and scrubbing the floors. He kept an eye on the visitors, but none of the women sparked recognition. After the first week, doubt began to creep upon him. What if he was totally wrong and she was elsewhere? And if so, what could he do next?

Then, he didn’t have to wonder any longer. He had just purified himself, preparing to begin his morning, when he noticed a silhouette approaching the shrine. Shoulders hunched against the early chill, arms held close to the front of a dark kimono. A gust loosened wisps of hair from her bun.

He bent his head in greeting. “Welcome.”

“Good morning.” The voice was a little hoarse from disuse, but he knew. As he abruptly straightened, he caught her perplexed expression. There were subtle changes, new lines at the corners of her eyes and a freckle at her jawline. In his memories, he had always looked up to his mother. Now, he was head and shoulders above her, and it felt terribly strange.

He had thought about what he would do and forced himself to carry it out. With effort, he unlocked his jaw and said. “I’ve stood tall and bent, but I hope I haven’t changed too much.” That did not feel true. In fact, he was indecisive and awkward, unable to move a muscle.

“Kotaro?”

He nodded. He was that little boy again, running through the tall grasses.

Okaa-san blinked. She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “How did you get so tall?!” Something like a laugh left her, before it turned into a soft cry. “Come here, Kotaro. Let me look at you.”

As her cool hands lifted to cup his face, he managed to say. “You recognized me.”

“Of course, I did! You look like your father but you have my nose. You’re far from your father’s house, so what are you doing here?”

“…to visit?”

She smiled. “And I’m so glad you did.”

After bidding farewell to the priest, they headed into town. She lived in one of the row houses, and the interior was cramped. A single futon was rolled against the wall, baskets of thread lined the floor, and a loom occupied a corner. Koshijiro ran a finger against a thread on the half-made blanket draped over it. “Is this the same loom that didn’t come with us?”

Okaa-san was trying to clear the space she had, stacking baskets and wiping dust from the corners. “Hm? Oh, no. The one you remember was given to another family. I only took what I could carry with me to Sakura Domain. I’ve been sewing with a few women ever since. But what about you? You had your genpuku ceremony, I see. I suppose I shouldn’t have called you Kotaro.”

He did look like a typical young samurai, with his topknot and two swords at his side. “It’s Koshijiro. The first character is the same in ‘to cross over’. The second is written as ‘path’. And I don’t mind being called Kotaro.” I’m still your son.

She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be proper.” Her drab appearance highlighted the difference in their statuses. Sudden nausea overcame him. He didn’t ask to be treated like his own mother’s better. “Koshijiro is a good name. It sounds like you’ll overcome any challenge in your way. Tell your father I approve, when you return home.”

“And are you coming too?” He immediately knew the answer, upon seeing Okaa-san’s expression.

Her lips pressed together. “It’s not so simple. I have people here who need my skills, and I enjoy the work. I enjoy being useful.”

“What if it was for a few days? A short excursion?”

“I can’t, Ko-shijiro.” The near slip in his name was noticeable. She sighed. “Yes, I sew blankets and clothes, which are all necessary for the end of the year. But I also sew up people, when it’s necessary. I only had you, but I know bearing a child isn’t easy. I travel with a midwife, there’s no telling when a delivery can take a turn for the worse. I couldn’t forgive myself if I was gone when I was needed. At least, not right now, when I haven’t taught everything to the younger girls in the trade.”

Koshijiro glanced away. His mother’s stitches had always been tight and neat. It was no wonder then, that her handiwork was good enough for flesh. As much as he wanted the revival of his childhood happiness, he remembered that day when they delivered blankets to the peasant families. Okaa-san’s kind nature hadn’t changed, and he was proud to be her child. “I understand. I help in teaching kenjutsu.”

“Kenjutsu? Is that what you like?” Her tone was light but there was an undercurrent of something else. Apprehension? “I hope you’re careful.”

“We don’t use real swords, and I would be careful.” He defended.

She regarded him for a moment, appearing to search for any scars or wounds. Finding nothing, she asked. “Can you tell me what you do?”

“I go to the dojos of Sensei’s students, and my latest assignment is in town, with the Ishii family. The class has ten boys, the youngest is five and the oldest is thirteen. I teach them kata, the movements we go through. I cut bamboo for their shinai, which they use every day. Once a week, we have a sparring session, and the winner is exempt from cleaning the dojo. I always clean with them though, it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. They’re good students, but I have to keep telling them to quiet down. I try not to shout. It only makes the youngest cry, so I just give a light tap with my wooden sword.” He touched the hilt of his short sword, and he was surprised to see her flinch.

“I’m sorry. I know that to be a samurai is to carry a sword, and last week, I wouldn’t have reacted. However, right now, swords aren’t very popular among the people.” Okaa-san said. “Particularly new ones.”

He assumed something had happened. From what he had seen on his travels, this domain had greater affluence than his native Oyumi. That also meant more people, and in turn, more opportunities for clashes. “I would never test a blade on someone.”

“I should hope so. It’s horrible. But enough of that. Tell me more about how you’ve been living.” She took a seat at her loom and worked on a blanket as he talked.

“I work with Otou-san when he’s patrolling, and I know all the routes. I asked for time away, so I won’t get in trouble.” He hastily added.

Her head was about to turn to him and at his clarification, her attention returned to the cloth. “Good. Is your father still painting?”

“He’s preparing to sell three for Setsubun.” If he had to be honest, Koshijiro was a little confused. He hadn’t expected his mother to readily bring up Otou-san. “He’s well.”

“Mm.” Her fingers kept moving, her face passive.

He was definitely even more confused, but he didn’t know what to do. Ask whether his mother still loved his father? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that. If she said no, it would hurt but it would have further justified her departure. If she said yes…that would be another layer to their already complex family dynamic.

He decided to change the subject. “My teacher is an elderly man, and he was Otou-san’s teacher before me. He has a great amount of conviction but he’s directed all of it to his vision of kenjutsu. His daughter is our cook, and she’s been kind to me.” His mouth was dry. What else could he say? “Otsuna and Kinutake have married well and have their own households.”

This made her pause, and her busy hands settled in her lap. “Did they hurt you?”

“I was mostly ignored.”

“Really?” Her gaze was sharp. She would know he wasn’t telling the whole story, and he looked away. “Did you know your sister tried to push me when I was pregnant with you?”

“What?” The story was entirely new to him.

“I was close to the pond and she crept behind me. She wasn’t strong but it scared me enough.”

The pond. “Wait. Where was this? Did you live at the main house?”

“…I did. For two years.”

“I must have been too young to remember living there the first time.”

“No. I left after that incident, I wasn’t showing then and I was afraid she’d do worse or enlist your brother into her plans. I hadn’t even told your father I was pregnant. He would have tried to protect me, even if it was improper. So I ran. You were born in that village house and I did my best but the famine hit. After your siblings were gone, your father found us and stayed. Now that I’m this old, I realize I just repeat the same course of action.” She muttered.

“Sometimes, running is the best course of action.” He attempted to be helpful. “I tell my students that.”

“Well, I’m not as young as they are. With luck, I’ll be as energetic as your teacher.”

“…speaking of which, did you know the cook Oichi-san because you lived at the house?”

“I shared quarters with her when I first came to live there. I’m happy she was kind to you too.”

He blinked. “You were Otou-san’s servant.”

“Not when I met him. When we met, I worked with some artisans but I had a falling-out with them, and I needed another job. Your father needed a maid. It was the simplest option.”

“Was that before or after his first wife passed away?”

It was her turn to be surprised. “Why would you consider before? Your father was unaware I existed until a year after her death. As for me, I couldn’t have picked him out from the rest.”

“Oh.” Otsuna had been lying. But while her mother was dying, what was Otou-san doing at that time? “I’m sorry, that wasn’t appropriate to ask.”

“Koshijiro, I don’t blame you for being curious. It’s been a long time, and I doubt this story would have been told while your siblings were around.”

After that conversation, the past was a rare topic. Occasionally, she would mention his childhood exploits, like when he began to walk or when he was startled by a comet shower, one summer night spent stargazing. He tucked those stories in his memory, as if each was a round pearl. For the most part, he would accompany her on her errands and walks to patients’ homes. Okaa-san had true passion for her work and it showed in her expression, whether it was discussing measurements or wiping her brow after a difficult delivery. She looked at her hands with absolute confidence.

Koshijiro also had a glimpse of his life, if his mother had taken him along a second time. A life bowing down to the samurai who rode past. A life laboring in the fields or in the market. He thought of not teaching, not experiencing the serenity from meditation or seeing the excitement on a child’s face when a kata was mastered. He would have been Kotaro with a kinder childhood, but just as easily a target for a new blade.

All too swiftly, his journey ended. At dawn, Okaa-san saw him off and true to character, she firmly stated. “You have to go back. Don’t worry about me, I’m not going anywhere. Be alert on the road and trust nobody. Make it home safely, understand?”

“I understand. And, um,” He tightened his hold on the reins of his horse and shifted awkwardly, before bowing his head. “Thank you. For sacrificing your time with me so I could have this life. It’s a privilege I won’t waste.”

Koshijiro heard her laugh, but it sounded sad. “You’re my boy. All I want is for you to live well.”

He nodded and pulled himself onto the saddle. “Will you still write?”

“Of course. And this time, I have a letter.” She slipped him a folded paper but kept her grip on his hands. “It’s for your father, so try not to read it.”

“…I won’t. I promise. And if I can, I would like to visit again.”

“Let me know if you do, so I’ll clean up.”

That made him smile. “Goodbye, Okaa-san.”

“Goodbye, Koshijiro.”

Squaring his shoulders, he steered out of the town and towards Oyumi Domain. He trained his gaze forward, as the rising sun peeked over the horizon.

When he returned home, it was deep into the night, and he mustered whatever energy he had left to see his father. Otou-san was still awake, reviewing the day’s report with a furrowed brow. As Koshijiro opened the door, he looked up and set it aside. The candle on his desk flickered once, just as he smiled. “Welcome home. I’m glad, it seems you didn’t run into any issues on the road. We can talk in the morning; get some rest first.”

Koshijiro stepped forward, anyway, withdrawing the folded letter from his front. “I will but I’ll give this to you. It’s from her.” He had no idea what it said, but now, his curiosity was directed to his father’s reaction. He handed the paper over, watching carefully.

Otou-san’s eyes widened and he accepted the letter. For a moment, unrestrained wonder crossed his face. Then, he caught himself, his composure returning. “Ah. Thank you for carrying it all this way.” He gently placed it before him and reiterated. “We’ll talk in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night.” Koshijiro backtracked into the hallway, yet the letter remained unopened. His father was staring at it as if he didn’t know whether it would sting or soothe.

Dr. Gensai’s clinic was quiet for today, and Koshijiro waited in one of the small rooms. He had appreciated the doctor’s home visits, but it was better if he visited the clinic. Like his return to kenjutsu, this was another step to regaining his function before the war in Satsuma.

He tapped his thumb against his leg, turning his memories once more to the image of Otou-san and the candlelit paper from Okaa-san. Even now, he did not know what that letter had said. The morning after, he had told his story, including that his mother chose to stay in Sakura. He could still recall his father nodding, as if he expected as much. The conversation that followed had fleshed out the details of the visit, but afterwards, they slipped back into their normal routine.

The knock on the door made him snap to attention. “You can enter.”

Takani’s smile greeted him. “Hello, Kamiya-san. Dr. Gensai allowed me to conduct your physical examination today. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you very much.” She closed the door behind her, and he noticed her hands were pink from a fresh scrubbing. “Is there anything you would like to discuss today?”

“I’ve been well so far, but if you’d like to look at my left shoulder, you can.”

“I would like that.” Takani appeared to be genuinely interested. She inspected his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. She checked his fingers and feet, giving a little nod before listening to his lungs and heart with a tubular device. “You weren’t wrong, your health is good. How have you been eating?”

“Sekihara-san and Tsubame have been kind enough to accommodate me.” He had also sent the latter’s message to Yahiko, the poor girl flustered but grateful.

“That is kind of them.” She echoed. “And I know you walk to and from the station.”

“That’s true, but I’m attempting to practice kenjutsu again.”

“Ah. To be ready, in case trouble comes here.”

“Yes.”

“However, it is summer, so please make sure you have plenty of water. It would be even better if you had someone else at the dojo, in case you have an accident.”

Admittedly, he was irked. He wasn’t an old man. “I know what I’m doing.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s only advice that I give to everyone in this heat. So, may I have a look at your shoulders? I’ll help you with the right side.”

“Go ahead.” After she rolled up the right sleeve, he did the same with the left. He always thought he was ready to see the stump, but every time he looked at it, his gut gave an initial lurch. The explosion had burned his skin, leaving it flushed and puckered, and though the nape of his neck had fully recovered, the sensation in his left shoulder was duller. The stump came to a flat end, where the bone was severed.

Instead of remarking on the sight, Takani focused on palpating his shoulder joints and comparing them. “It’s good that you’ve been exercising. The muscles have atrophied somewhat, yet the bone underneath is still strong and it’s healed with everything in place. How’s your pain?”

“It’s still a daily inconvenience. The aspirin hasn’t helped in that regard, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew more about the cause.” Her wistfulness was genuine.

“This is a new age, there are plenty of things left to learn.”

“Infinite things.” She smiled. “That’s it for your exam. Any last questions?”

“Not at all. You seem confident and capable. Please give my regards to Dr. Gensai and I’ll leave you to the rest of your patients.”

“Thank you, Kamiya-san.” She hesitated for a second. “Any news from Kyoto yet?”

“They’re making good use of their time by training and spreading word. In my last letter, I suggested that Kaoru contact the police there for assistance. You’ll be the first to know if a message arrives.”

“Mm.” Her gaze was distant. “I’ll see you out.”

After paying the usual fee, Koshijiro departed. He had dinner at the Akabeko, the restaurant full with the noise of clattering dishes and loud conversation. He greeted Sekihara-san, as she hurried between tables, and she acknowledged him with a bright smile before calling out instructions to her workers. As he sipped fragrant tea, he observed the other customers. A group of merchants, a handful of families. Diagonally across the room, he spotted the white and navy uniforms of kenjutsu students. Running through his memory of past tournaments, their faces were not familiar. They could have belonged to a new school, but Maekawa hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. They were either recent initiates or they were here to train at their school’s main dojo. He mentally noted to greet them later. After all, if they were new in town, he could sympathize.

“Relax your elbows. A little more. There. Remember that, and you’ll find the next movement is more fluid.” Koshijiro instructed. The new student, a seven-year-old boy, nodded and tightened his grip on his bokken. Throughout the dojo, the other students had paired off for practice. Now that there was an odd number in the class, Koshijiro joined the newcomer. He watched the boy repeat the kata, before sweeping his gaze to check on the rest of his charges.

From the front of the room, the eldest Ishii son usually supervised. Today, there was a guest standing next to him. A thin man, his deeply lined face adding years to his already somber expression. Motomiya-sensei already had a reputation among the various schools, and the older students mentioned his ambition and intelligence. He was in Oyumi to scout for help in starting a new branch. Sensei had insisted that Koshijiro should do his best to impress him, for it was rare that an opportunity came to the seeker and such a good one at that. And he wouldn’t have to leave for Takaoka to receive the training of the Motomiya Shin school. However, Koshijiro didn’t have the nerve to volunteer for demonstrations or start a discussion. He stayed with the youngest boys, focusing on their progress and his next task.

Practice ended for the day, and Koshijiro made to leave, before Ishii Tadanobu, the third son, clapped him on the back. He gave a toothy grin. “Hey, Kamiya-kun! Motomiya-sensei wants to talk with you.”

Sudden self-consciousness swept over him. Was it something he did wrong? He could only silently nod and follow Tadanobu. A small group of students still lingered around Motomiya-sensei in the yard, giving their family names and years of experience. As the seconds crawled by, Koshijiro closed his eyes, trying to find peace in the noise of the whirring cicadas.

Tadanobu’s voice pulled him to the surface. “This is the one Iida-sensei had spoken of. I’m glad you were able to meet today.”

“Yes, it was an honor.” Koshijiro racked his mind for more to say. “I appreciated what you said at the beginning, about not letting the cutting edge of the sword distract from its weight.”

“Thank you. Kamiya-kun, was it?” Motomiya-sensei regarded him with a nod. “How old are you?”

“I am sixteen.”

If he had any issue, he didn’t show it. “If you are available, I would like you to assist me. Iida-sensei is someone who does not give his favor lightly, and I see that he was right.”

Koshijiro felt a rush of elation, shooting through his fingertips. “I would definitely like to help you. Please let me know what I can do, and I’ll be in your care.”

“Excellent.” He relayed the address of his new building, with some directions. “I expect you at dawn.”

When Koshijiro told Sensei, the elderly man had a mixed reaction. He was resting on the porch, a blanket drawn over his lap. “That’s good, but you should have spoken up! Be proud of your accomplishments, and use your voice! You are fortunate to have one, don’t forget it!”

“Yes, Sensei. I understand.”

“If you understand, then act. Action is what matters to society.” Sensei sniffed. “And don’t forget about me either, while you’re with Motomiya-sensei.”

“That’s impossible.” Koshijiro smiled. “For guiding me this far, thank you.”

“A student’s success is the best form of gratitude to a teacher. I haven’t regretted taking you on, and at last, I can retire in peace.”

When it came to Motomiya Shin, Koshijiro was able to adjust well. The first couple months were spent on making the necessary changes, learning the unique kata and Motomiya-sensei’s rules. His new teacher liked to pose questions, prodding the boundaries of their knowledge. Why was the sei-gan stance appropriate in this kata? Why was a certain sequence used? Initially, there was dread, but Koshijiro felt he was learning more than mere swordplay. His early answers were hesitant and he was prompted multiple times to speak up. However, no one was scolded or criticized. Motomiya-sensei was quick to point out the error and pivot to the correct line of reasoning. His approach was what convinced students to stay, and the moderately sized dojo became busier with each week. Along with Koshijiro, there were three other experienced students. Two were from the main branch and had volunteered to travel here. The last, Kikuhara, was from Echigo, and he was excited to be further south.

During a water break on a particularly hot day, Kikuhara wiped a cloth around his face. “Kamiya-kun, are there any nice places to see?”

“Well, in spring, it’s beautiful here. The leaves are new, the cherry blossom petals cover the roads. There’s an acting group that likes to perform most nights, in a spare room of one of the restaurants. I’m sorry if I can’t tell you more, I don’t really go out to town.”

“That’s fine, we’re still poor students after all.”

Koshijiro smiled. “What is Echigo like?”

“It’s by the coast. There are cliffs where you can see seabirds diving for fish, and many rice fields. And the mountains! I like them best in autumn, with all the colors. If you ever happen to find yourself in Echigo, I hope it’s in autumn.”

“If I have the chance, I will certainly try.”

A few of the other students overheard their conversation and began talking about the local brothels. Their favorite women were described in graphic detail. Koshijiro forced a neutral expression as they discussed the sordid details, and he noticed that Kikuhara looked uncomfortable as well. He assumed it was because they were both the youngest, and thus, the least accustomed to this kind of talk.

When practice ended and they were cleaning up, Kikuhara spoke over the wash basin. “Do you have someone special, Kamiya-kun?”

Koshijiro didn’t answer at first, scrubbing his hands with coarse soap. “…I think being with someone asks for a lot of trust. I doubt I can give that to a woman I don’t know.” He couldn’t relate to the desire his peers spoke of, couldn’t fathom how such an intimate act was approached so casually. Even thinking of being naked and vulnerable with a strange face induced a visceral repulsion.

“That is true.” Kikuhara looked as if he was about to say more. Instead, the conversation ended.

The subject didn’t come up again, until the dojo received a letter sent from Echigo and addressed to one Kikuhara. Upon reading who the sender was, he flushed and immediately stuffed the envelope close to his heart. The moment Motomiya-sensei stepped out, the others began to tease him.

“Kikuhara-kun has a sweetheart!”

“You dog! Is she a beauty?”

His friend averted the gazes upon him, constantly glancing towards the door. Koshijiro interrupted. “Let’s not make him angry. I’d be on the receiving end, if he is.” He had been assigned to be Kikuhara’s target, for the jumping face stroke.

“What are you standing around for?” Motomiya-sensei’s voice was like the crack of a whip. His disapproving gaze swept over them. “Didn’t I tell you to start? You are not mere boys who need constant supervision. Run laps around the building until I call you back inside. That should clear your minds.”

Koshijiro was disgruntled at the collective punishment. He hadn’t been sidetracked; he was trying to stop them! But he could do nothing about the unfairness of the situation, except sullenly jog. It was another quarter of an hour until they were summoned, and Motomiya-sensei’s mood was like a hovering thundercloud throughout the session.

“Kamiya-kun!”

Koshijiro’s head shot up. It wasn’t often he was called on, and he knew this wasn’t for a good reason. “Yes, Sensei?”

“Step forward. Show the class what you just did.”

He obeyed. Sweat rolled down his temples.

“Did anyone notice?”

There was utter silence. Koshijiro finally spoke. “I held my elbows too high in the second to last stance.”

“That is correct. And what would have happened?”

“I would have been stabbed in the ribs, straight to my lung.” He envisioned the scenario and his ears burned with shame. How could he have slipped up?

“Correct again. Make the adjustment and remember it. Back in line.”

“Yes, Sensei!”

There wasn’t a word out of turn that day, and after cleanup was finished, Motomiya-sensei dismissed them with a neutral “I’ll see you in the morning”. They filed out, humbled and relieved their teacher’s frustration had ebbed. Koshijiro headed for an overgrown mulberry by the roadside, intending to rest his feet before continuing home. In its shade, he nearly tripped over Kikuhara, who flinched and crinkled the paper in his hands.

“Oh, sorry.” Koshijiro apologized. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, I should be leaving soon anyway.” He was sitting cross-legged on the grass and he smoothed a corner of the letter before refolding it. His expression was downcast, his mouth drawn tight. “You’re not going home yet?”

“I wanted to sit down first, after all we did today. Are you alright?”

Kikuhara gave a wry smile. “It wasn’t bad news. On the contrary, it was a very friendly message. I am happy and I wasn’t expecting more than this, but I was still hoping.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure. Words of love? That seems too much to ask for.”

“With this person, you may feel better if you’re honest. No, sorry, that sounds like I’m trying to extract a confession from a suspect.” Koshijiro winced.

“I wish you could see yourself, you look so troubled. Don’t worry. You’re trying to help and I really appreciate that.” Kikuhara paused. “It’s not, well, it’s not like my feelings will ever be returned.”

“…is it a married woman?”

“Not married.” His voice dropped as he added. “Not a woman either.”

“Oh.” It was not uncommon among the samurai to be interested in men, but not publicly approved. “Well, as long as no one is hurt, how a person chooses to live should be up to them.”

Kikuhara gave a tight smile. “That would be nice, but that’s not how things are. We’re expected to fulfill our duties.” He stood, walking into the street, and Koshijiro was left to mull over the conversation. His parents, the girls longing to join kenjutsu practice, the commoners bowing to his presence, Kikuhara and his preferences. The world in which they lived had defined boundaries and made them absolute.

They would teach you that the world is proper and harmonious, but it’s far from it in reality. There is no peace. Sensei’s words from long ago returned to him.

So, how could peace be achieved? What would be necessary to make it reality?

These questions were partly answered by Motomiya-sensei. He allowed any boy, regardless of social rank, to join the school. Any distinction was forgotten at the door. Sparring pairs were formed at random, and he had an excellent memory of who had already faced whom. But such matches paled in comparison to the excitement of dueling their teacher. Once a month, Motomiya-sensei would allow students to challenge him. The prize for the best display of skill was bragging rights until the next time; nevertheless, it was a motivating event. They would form a line, the youngest and least experienced in front. Those boys were disarmed in under a minute, given parting words of how to improve, and sent to the walls to observe the rest and learn. Eventually, as the line dwindled and a handful remained, it was usually Koshijiro’s turn.

His strongest memory was when he was placed second to last. He did his best to watch, trying to keep the building anticipation at bay as Motomiya-sensei drew closer. Then, it was just Kikuhara and himself. Koshijiro lifted his shinai and went for an overhead strike. After so many duels, his teacher’s stamina was still unflagging and he easily deflected the attack before rushing towards Koshijiro.

Step back. Water stance. Find an opening to take the offensive!

His mind was racing, his arms trembling with nervous energy. The pounding of his heart filled his ears, yet he was holding his own. Motomiya-sensei hadn’t landed a hit on him, and although he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, his teacher’s neutral expression morphed into slight approval. The duel continued, blows exchanged one after another. Koshijiro believed he had found that place of comfort, when he could allow his body to react while his brain calmly assessed the next possible moves.

Kikuhara’s voice pulled him out of that tranquility. “Kamiya-kun, turn right!”

Koshijiro did, and the end of a shinai clipped the loose fabric of his gi. Motomiya-sensei seemed faster, more aggressive; the attack would have sent Koshijiro wheezing for air and stumbling into the back wall. This was Motomiya-sensei’s true strength. And he could not underestimate his teacher now, in the heat of such a challenge. Koshijiro dug deep, seeking any advantage. Abruptly, Motomiya-sensei pulled away, reestablishing distance. In the next instant, he lunged for Kikuhara.

I won’t let him!

Koshijiro dove, sliding across the waxed floorboards. He swung, aiming low…and struck Motomiya-sensei’s legs. Tired as he was, there wasn’t enough force for a takedown, but it was adequate to stop his teacher short of reaching his friend. The ensuing silence was tense.

“Kikuhara-kun,” Motomiya-sensei began. “Earlier, you called out to Kamiya-kun. In our duels, can anyone else intrude?”

“No, Sensei.”

“Then, why did you do so?”

Kikuhara struggled for a moment and admitted. “I was unable to discipline my emotions for a friend.”

“Hmm. Then why did I attack you?”

“I inserted myself into this fight.”

“And you stopped me.” He said this to Koshijiro. “Why?”

“Like Kikuhara-kun said, I was unable to hold back for the sake of a friend.”

Motomiya-sensei regarded them in turn, but Koshijiro refused to back down against the intensity of his stare. At last, he rolled his shoulders and formed a half-smile. “Next time, I will not condone interference. However, I am pleased that my students will defend each other. Bonds forged when learning together should not be broken easily. Everyone in this class should remember that. Understood?”

The answer was a loud chorus. “Yes, Sensei!”

“Very good. Kamiya-kun, you’ll be at the end of the line next time. Let’s clean up.”

They were dismissed without Kikuhara dueling, but he didn’t seem disappointed. That evening, Koshijiro insisted on treating him to dinner and Kikuhara attempted the same for him. They ended up paying for each other, made funnier because their orders were identical, down to the indulgence of a bottle of plum wine. Kikuhara was certainly a lightweight though, and despite his own inebriation, Koshijiro walked him to the place where he was boarding.

“Ah, I miss him.” Kikuhara remarked, breaking the quiet between them. “I miss him. I wonder if he misses me? I hope he does…”

Koshijiro glanced at his friend’s wistful, pained expression. “I haven’t experienced love yet, so forgive me if I’m wrong. But it’s alright to miss someone.”

“Even if it’s hopeless?”

“Well…you can’t help yourself. But you deserve to be happy. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“Thanks…” Kikuhara clumsily patted his back before stumbling inside. Koshijiro tipsily turned towards home and he dimly recalled his father’s amusement upon his return.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Mm.” He nodded, and the house swayed.

“I will tell Oichi to make something for your hangover in the morning.” Otou-san laughed. Over the following day’s breakfast, he was still in a good mood, pouring every cup of tea. Embarrassed at the attention and wincing at the resounding pain in his skull, Koshijiro decided he’d avoid plum wine for the rest of his life.

His father noted. “You have a good friend in Kikuhara-kun. You seem happy.”

He was. He had found balance in his life, between kenjutsu and policing. At seventeen, he made his first arrest. He had assisted over the years, following the commands of the older samurai. This time, he was alone in the market and technically off duty. People were milling about, and he thought nothing was out of the ordinary until he caught a straying hand reach out. There was a cry and a scruffy-headed fellow sprinted off, shoving bystanders out of the way. Koshijiro automatically gave chase.

“Excuse me! Coming through!” He shouted. Down the street, he spotted the man’s swinging arms, a coin purse tightly gripped in his right hand.

Koshijiro didn’t really remember the next few seconds, except for the burn in his legs and his vision narrowing to the man’s back. He did remember diving into a tackle and hitting the ground with the thief. And how thin the wrists were, as he forced the thief to let go of the coin purse. It wasn’t long before the nearest patrol unit arrived and his shoulders were repeatedly smacked in congratulations. He was allowed to get up and for a brief moment, he locked eyes with the man he just caught. Hollow cheekbones, shadowed eyes, dirt mixed into his stubble. This person decided to break the law. One of the samurai grabbed the thief’s worn collar, roughly dragging him away and shoving him against a wall to be bound. A distinct guttural sound of pain resounded in the air.

Koshijiro knew he did the right thing, and he felt a little surer when he returned the stolen coin purse to its rightful owner, a middle-aged woman reminiscent of Oichi. So, why did he feel guilty?

After the official documentation was completed, he was ready to be anywhere else. The other men had gradually left for their original duties. He was about to turn to the direction of home, when a komono, a commoner hired to assist in policing, remarked. “You could have used your swords, you know. Those aren’t just for show.”

Koshijiro glanced down at the two swords at his side, their weight brought to his awareness. He only unsheathed them for maintenance, but he wouldn’t admit that. “I, er, I believed I was fast enough to catch him.”

“Ah. Youth. Well, you won’t always be so young and fast, hm?” The komono shrugged.

Unnerved, Koshijiro walked on. Even if I’m old and slow, I wouldn’t be violent if I didn’t have to! And that man was wrong to steal, but does he deserve to be treated harshly? I tackled him, but he took all of the impact and I landed on him. What if I broke something of his? And what does that make me?

“Koshijiro? You seem upset.”

He startled and noticed his surroundings. He had arrived home and was in the midst of slipping off his shoes, without even consciously thinking about it. And the voice…

“How…? Okaa-san?”

His mother was standing in the doorway, with an amused expression. The sight could hardly be real, but at the same time, his chest squeezed painfully at how normal it seemed. She reached over, clasping his shoulder. “I’m here to visit for a week.”

“What about assisting the midwife?”

“The girls I’ve taught are good enough. I’ve seen them handle pressure and even though I’d like to supervise, I have confidence in them. Just until I return and continue their training.”

“But for now,” Otou-san stepped out from behind her, a finger’s width away from actually touching. “We’re going to be thankful for her company.”

For the first time in a decade, they had dinner as a family. Okaa-san insisted on helping Oichi in the kitchen, despite the latter’s consistent shooing. At the table, Koshijiro caught his father smiling into his cup of sake, and he ventured a question.

“Is this what it was like before I was born?”

Otou-san’s gaze became distant. “Somewhat. Just like now, your mother would assist, although she would not eat here with me.”

“Oh.”

“But those days are over.” His tone was neutral, accepting. Koshijiro didn’t press, for Okaa-san strode in with a tray. Oichi brought the rest and took her leave for the evening, to tend to her father. While they ate, Okaa-san spoke of her group of seamstresses and the struggle to obtain a workplace of their own.

“Right now, we’re saving money to buy out the land. We are very close, perhaps two months more. It was fortunate that our pieces are well-received, and even the servants of samurai have approached our door. The attention must be why we haven’t been thrown out yet.”

“What have those servants purchased from you?” Koshijiro asked.

“The usual blankets and clothing. The latest was a furisode meant for a wedding ensemble, I’m proud of the embroidery. I wish I had some left to share with you. Although if you’re so interested, I can show you how to sew. It’s easy enough, and there could be a day when you need a quick adjustment.”

“If you have the time.”

“It won’t take that long! Unless you stab yourself too many times.” Her wry remark made him smile.

“The needle may not get through my calluses.” He held up one palm, pointing at the thickened skin. It was the hand of a swordsman, and he realized he didn’t know whether it was still a sensitive subject.

She spared a glance to the calluses and resumed eating. “You say that now, but you might be surprised.” Her gaze shot over to Otou-san, whose shoulders shook with restrained laughter.

“Is that what you say to all of your girls?”

“Hm. I suppose I do.” The corner of her mouth lifted.

“Miyo.” He set down his chopsticks, to look at her. He started to speak, pressed his lips together as if changing his mind, and finally said with effort. “As long as you are happy, I am content.”

“I am happy.” Okaa-san asserted.

Koshijiro kept his head down and drank his tea, wishing he was elsewhere.

Thankfully, the rest of the week was not as awkward. Dinner was spent as a family, and Koshijiro looked forward to every evening, to both of his parents welcoming him at the table. For the promised sewing lesson, they sat on the porch, not far from her room and the servants’ quarters. She gave him a thick piece of cloth to work the needle on. For such a task, his fingertips seemed broad and imprecise.

“You’re getting better every day. Don’t give up.” She encouraged. “Before I go, I’ll tell you how you can close a wound.”

“It’s not the same as this?”

“No, it’s a little different. Oh, I’ll just tell you now. Wind the thread around the needle. Yes, like that. Now, do it again and go in from the top.” She instructed. “In a real case, make sure the wound is clean before you start. If you practice enough, you could save someone. This is a surer way than with any weapon.”

He didn’t dare correct her. “Yes, Okaa-san.”

When she departed for Sakura, she donned a nun’s garb, including a fitted cap to hide her hair. It was the disguise she had used on the road, although Otou-san insisted that two of his attendants escort her. Koshijiro had half a mind to come along, but Okaa-san, who had protested she didn’t need anyone, told him to stay.

“Your students need you. I will go with these two, if you remain here. I’ll see you both again.” She hugged him tight, and whispered. “Practice!”

“I will!” He made that promise just as much to himself.

She stepped back and bowed to Otou-san, strangely formal. There was a flash of longing in his gaze, but he didn’t move closer. Then, she was riding off into the distance, and gone once again. Koshijiro felt bereft, but the familiar ache had eased.

Kinutake and his wife returned for Obon but Koshijiro refused to stay anywhere near them. He packed his clothing and was halfway across the yard before Otou-san stood in front of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Staying anywhere else until they’ve left.”

“Now, Koshijiro, you’re acting childish. You should be polite to our guests.”

“There’s nothing to be said between us. He has his own life, and I have mine.”

“You could at least try. You are brothers, after all.”

“No. Over the past year, Kikuhara has been more of a brother to me than he has.”

Otou-san’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t raise you to be discourteous. What would your mother say?”

“Don’t use her like that!” Koshijiro exploded. “Especially since she’s not here to speak for herself!”

“Koshijiro.” His father’s voice was ice cold.

“I know what she would say, she told me years ago. That you have trouble choosing between your heart and your mind, and she was right. You can’t see that my siblings and I will never be the happy family you want.”

“Do you think your father is blind and deaf?” Otou-san shouted. “Of course, I know what they have become, I know my own shortcomings. But I will not have you change, like how I’ve seen Otsuna and Kinutake change. A good man would behave properly, make the best impression despite private feelings. That is how the world works, and yes, your mother is not here, but she would hate to see her son spit on all the etiquette and education he received. Go to your dojo, and what would our guests think of you?”

“I doubt they’d think of me at all in the first place.” He retorted. And with that, he pushed past, ignoring the calls of his name. He patrolled and taught throughout the day, then stayed at Kikuhara’s until evening, before sleeping at Sensei’s house. Sensei never turned him away, though he warned Koshijiro not to draw too near for he had a persistent cough. Koshijiro helped Oichi tend to him, but didn’t mention what was happening at the house. Oichi must have, because Sensei once said to him.

“Sometimes, we need to fight to move forward. It can be better than staying in the same place.”

As the sunset came earlier with each day and the summer flowers browned, Obon ended. Koshijiro returned home, and the place felt subtly different. He immediately went to his room and noticed some of the books had been rearranged. His pulse was in his fingers as he fixed his possessions. He conducted a careful search, but nothing was missing. He might have felt better if something had, he could have had an excuse to be righteously angry. His mind played a seductive scenario of riding out, catching up to Kinutake and his faceless wife, punching him, striking him, solar plexus, shoulder, hip…

No. I am not a thug. Nothing’s missing. They’re gone. That’s the end of it.

Shame fully replaced the anger, and he focused on the very concrete task of unpacking. From the attendants, he learned his father was working and they did not meet until clouds gathered around the rising moon.

“How was your day?” Otou-san asked.

“Fine. I taught a new kata to the students. Motomiya-sensei said I spoke clearly and everyone understood. I’m leading the demonstration again next time.”

“That’s good. Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“I have as well.”

“Otou-san?” The apology was between his lips, and it was nearly out, but the images of Kinutake, the old box of letters, and his mussed room stopped him. His stomach twisted and black crept at the corners of his vision. “Good night.”

“Good night, Koshijiro.”

Neither of them ever apologized, and he regretted it.

The weeks became months, without another argument. Okaa-san visited in the spring and autumn, and despite his reluctance to reveal his uneven stitches, she was quite proud. She was also appreciative of Otou-san’s landscape sketches, which were particularly beautiful. His father had an extra bound to his step after her compliments, yet he had not noticed anything outwardly different between them. Until, he returned earlier than usual and caught them sitting together on the porch. He narrowed his eyes against the sun’s glare. Were their hands intertwined?

“Koshijiro!” His mother stood to face him, brushing herself off. “Welcome home.”

“I’m home.” He looked between them, trying to find any traces of the moment he just witnessed. He couldn’t, but he thought better of bringing it up. They deserved privacy, after so much time had been stolen from them. Perhaps, he would attempt to be louder when moving around the house. But…would that make him the parent in this situation? Mortified, he took up his bokken and burned the discomfort away with kenjutsu.

Koshijiro was nineteen when Motomiya-sensei made the offer. The dojo was receiving a good scrubbing, and he was hanging the washcloths to dry. “Kikuhara-kun, Kamiya-kun. After you finish, meet me at the front of the room.”

He and Kikuhara glanced at each other, and it was apparent neither of them knew what to expect. They sat on their heels before him, as he poured them cups of tea. The steam warmed Koshijiro’s face as his teacher drove straight to the point.

“It has been two years since I arrived here. Two years since you first became my students.” His eyes closed as he sipped. “My cousin’s family has resided at my own residence, to look after my own. But now, he is moving and I must return to my hometown at the end of the month.”

In the past two years, he had never mentioned a family. Koshijiro thought it was quite odd.

“I have no regrets; I have confidence this place will thrive on its own.” He leaned back, surveying them and the dojo stretching behind them. “Kamiya-kun, Kikuhara-kun, I would like you to assist me in Takaoka. I believe the two of you have the drive and ability to start your own schools someday. If you are able to join me, you can develop the skills to teach the next generation of kenjutsu practitioners. Now, I do not expect an answer today, but I would appreciate decisiveness from my first choices.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Kikuhara bowed his head and Koshijiro followed suit.

As they walked down the road, Kikuhara asked. “Are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I would have to think it over. What about you?”

“I’ve already come this far. My mother would be disappointed that my homecoming will be delayed, but she will understand. And I must check my finances first, before I officially accept.”

“Mm. It would be good for you.”

“I could say the same to you. But I think having a friend always makes a new place better.”

He had to agree and he continued to think as he opened the gate to the Kamiya residence. His mother had a hand against the thick trunk of a cherry tree, admiring the multitude of blossoms. His father sat on the grass and sketched upon a wooden block for a makeshift desk. They made a peaceful image, and Koshijiro’s heart wavered. The indecision must have showed when he greeted them, because Otou-san asked how he was. There in the spring scenery, he told them the story. His father was pleased and remarked on such good fortune. But Okaa-san reached for him, directly looking at Koshijiro.

“Tell us what you honestly feel.”

He spoke slowly. “I like teaching and not everyone has the chance to go to the main dojo, but…I would be away.”

“This house isn’t going anywhere.” His father gently said.

“I know that. And I know my coworkers would understand.”

“But if you stay, how would you feel?”

“If I stay…I may wonder if there was more in Takaoka. I don’t know what I can do here, other than continuing what I have always done. I need to improve. I need to grow.” He paused. “Then, I should go.”

“If it doesn’t work out, you can come home.” Okaa-san pointed out. “But you can’t decide to go if you’ve already rejected the offer. There are some opportunities that only come once. You should reach out, because it’s better than letting them pass by.” In the afternoon light, her eyes glinted. “Would you like us to support you when you speak with your teacher?”

“No, I can do it on my own. I’m already nineteen.” Feeling too embarrassed, he hurriedly went inside to change out of his uniform.

The following week, he made his departure. Sensei and Oichi had been happy for him, Sensei dishing out last-minute reminders to cultivate good standing and Oichi preparing rations for the early days of travel. Okaa-san had already left, though not before practically smothering him in a tight embrace, so Otou-san saw him off alone. He was making the journey with a pair of sturdy horses and a small cart holding most of his belongings.

“I expect letters about how Takaoka can’t compare to our Oyumi. Once a month, at the very least.” His father smiled widely.

“Of course, I’ll write.” Koshijiro sighed.

“And you will let me know if something-”

“Bad happens, yes.”

“Bad and good. Please don’t hold back.” He clasped Koshijiro’s shoulder and said. “I’ll ride to the Motomiya dojo in a heartbeat if you’re injured.”

“I’m sure they have good doctors. I’ll be alright.” He felt so awkward and he bowed his head. “I’ll see you in winter, Otou-san.” That was months away, and it didn’t seem quite real.

“Goodbye, Koshijiro.” A quick squeeze, and then, he let go.

Koshijiro found a comfortable spot on the cart and took hold of the reins. In his peripheral vision, he saw the gate of the house he had lived in and his father’s silhouette. With a nod and a snap of his wrists, he headed down the road, to the meeting spot where Motomiya-sensei and Kikuhara awaited. To Takaoka, where he would continue his training and where the next phase of his life would begin.

Rain pounded against the roof tiles and a strong gust rattled the windows. Lifting his attention from his paperwork, Koshijiro squinted past the glass. The abrupt storm had wrapped the world in dark gray, the occasional sheet of rain swirling through. Hopefully, no one was out in this weather.

He released his pen and extended his fingers, the knuckles cracking with release. This morning, he had received a telegram from Fujita. It only read ‘shachihoko swimming home’. During lunch, he’d had to sift through folklore books to fully understand the reference.

The shachihoko is an ocean monster, with the head of a tiger and the body of a fish. It’s usually seen as a protector; when there’s fire, it’ll summon water onto buildings. So, this must be Shishio, the former soldier. Is he planning a naval attack on Tokyo? But from the sea, how will he set a fire? No…he’s setting a fire in Kyoto as a distraction, escaping through the harbors, and sailing to Tokyo for the naval attack.

There were no drastic changes to the current plan, but he needed to know what would be done to protect soldiers and citizens alike from the bombardments. If people were to be evacuated, it would have to be soon, and where to? How far inland could they relocate thousands?

“Officer Kamiya,” Shinichi tentatively approached, and Koshijiro nodded for him to continue. “I was just downstairs and this is for you.” He passed over a rectangular piece of paper that could only be a telegram.

“Thank you, Officer Shinichi.” He turned it over and his gaze flew to the sender in instant recognition: From Kamiya Kaoru. Finally! He smiled. “Ah, I was waiting for this. I’m very grateful.”

“You’re welcome!”

Keeping his own excitement in check, he read the message.

FOUND KENSHIN AND SANO. ALL SAFE. LETTER INCOMING.

He exhaled. It was good that they were alright and together in Kyoto. He lamented the lack of detail, but it couldn’t be helped, telegrams were expensive. Kaoru must have deliberated over every word choice. Two more rainy days passed before the awaited letter arrived, and each hour of that period of time was slow and agonizing. When Koshijiro received it at last, he rushed to open the envelope and nearly tore a corner of one of the papers within.

Dear Otou-san,

I’ll start from the beginning.

You had a good idea in your last letter about communicating with the police. About a week ago, there was a new prisoner who’d been making trouble, and of course, it was Sano. Yahiko and I bailed him out, which wasn’t too expensive because the jail was eager to get rid of him. Sano told us he took the Nakasen Road and he didn’t come across Kenshin at all. But he did lose his way multiple times, so we were skeptical. He learned a new technique from someone, and he’s become much stronger. Yahiko was impressed by how much Sano can punch now, but I do know Megumi won’t be happy. Since then, Sano’s lurked around and searched for information. He’s learned Shishio’s stormed through a number of villages, but it’s hard to tell just how many.

Eventually, Fujita-san found us. I asked him about Kenshin, but he dismissed me, that he had no idea where Kenshin was at the moment. He did say there’s a young boy coming to Tokyo, and to add his safety to your list. I was glad when he finally left, although Sano joined him to interrogate an associate of Shishio. Afterwards, Yahiko and I were cleaning the outside of the Shirobeko, when we saw a familiar face in the crowd. Unfortunately, it appeared to be Shinomori-san. He walked past, without even turning his head. If he did see us, I don’t think he would have recognized us, given what happened the night in Kanryuu’s mansion.

The next morning, a girl around my age stopped by the Shirobeko. She noticed the poster of Kenshin and said that she had traveled with him for a while on the Tokaido Road. The girl, Misao, led Yahiko and me to the mountains, where his master lived. We arrived at a small house in the forest, and there he was. Kenshin looked so surprised to see us, and then, he didn’t say much at all. I wondered if he was angry, and he said he was, but only partly. He had mixed feelings, but I hope that relief is winning now. We wanted to wait for him, but Kenshin had to train with his master and learn the succession technique.

We were heading back down the mountain, when Yahiko remembered that we had seen Shinomori-san. Misao was excited; she was searching for him while traveling with Kenshin. He’d known her since she was a child, and she also belongs to the Oniwabanshuu. However, she wasn’t aware of the deaths, and I broke the news to her. About the fight, the bravery of her friends, and that Shinomori-san was probably looking for Kenshin. I tried to be gentle as I could, but she took it very badly and ran off. We followed her to the Aoiya, an inn that serves as the group’s headquarters. Their leader was missing, and that worried Misao enough to look for him. Meanwhile, Yahiko and I spoke with the other members at the Aoiya. Their leader, Okina-san, is like a grandfather to Misao, and Shinomori-san was challenging him for control of the group. We weren’t there long before Shinomori-san returned alone. He asked where Kenshin was, but Yahiko said he was training and that he’d defeat Shinomori-san. And I told Shinomori-san that his sword was used against so many, it could only bring misery. He wouldn’t listen to either of us though, and he was gone when Misao returned with Okina-san’s injured body. He needed many stitches but he lives.

We’re staying at the Aoiya now. As the new Okashira, Misao offered and as expected of the Oniwabanshuu, the people there have experience fighting. We’ve just settled in, and there’s much more room for Yahiko and I to practice. I don’t have to worry about knocking into anything with the naginata. And Kenshin knows to return here, when he’s finished.

The next time I’ll write, it will most likely be after the battle. The atmosphere in Kyoto is so tense, like everyone is waiting for the first strike. I’m going to do my best and protect this place.

Me too! And thanks for Tsubame’s letter. Tell her I’ll send a reply once we win- Yahiko

I hope we can bring everyone home soon, and we miss you.

Your daughter,

Kaoru

He would have read it again, particularly the part about Himura, but the chief had scheduled an afternoon meeting. Accounting for the rain, he had to leave the house earlier. However, he never made it. In the lobby, a young man, around Kaoru’s age and wearing a Western suit, intercepted him.

“Officer Kamiya?” At Koshijiro’s confirmation, he gestured up the stairs. “I’m here to escort you.”

“Was the chief’s meeting moved?” There wouldn’t be enough room for the entire squad in any of the offices.

“No, this is a different one. By orders that outrank the chief’s.” Another voice floated from the staircase, and he recognized the balding head.

“Commissioner Kawaji.”

“Hurry up. We are short on time.” He sniffed and walked on, inviting them to follow.

Koshijiro grabbed the handrail, glancing back at the young man. “I’m sorry, I never learned your name.”

“Makino.” He seemed he was going to say more, but at Kawaji’s insistence to pick up the pace, they headed to the second floor in silence.

Kawaji urged them inside a room at the end of the hall, loudly closing the door afterward. The many chairs were unoccupied; instead, the handful of men present stood in a tight circle, murmuring over papers at the end of the long, polished table. They all snapped their heads up. Every face was unfamiliar, but their decorated uniforms told him enough. He bowed in turn to each government official, as Kawaji announced who they were. He tried to remember their names, but his effort was thwarted when one of the men said.

“I remember you, Makino-kun. We still deeply miss Minister Okubo’s presence.”

Makino solemnly nodded and his profile was familiar. Koshijiro blinked. Makino was related to the late minister, the resemblance strong enough to be a son or a nephew. The moment of mourning passed, and Kawaji beckoned them closer to the group. There was no formal beginning to the meeting, but they huddled around a map in the center of the various papers. Koshijiro stood at the periphery, unsure of where he belonged.

“Saito-san has made contact from Kyoto. A warship was sighted off the coast here.” The speaking official jabbed a point in the blue meant for the ocean, a thumbprint away from the old capital. “Our colleagues are maintaining surveillance at all hours, and we are ready to defend in the event of an initial strike.”

Rapid-fire discussion followed, of coded military tactics that went unexplained. Someone brought up the idea of mobilizing forces from as far south as Choshuu, but it was struck down, those troops would arrive too late. Then, Koshijiro was addressed.

“Officer Kamiya, I believe you were given a contingency plan?”

“I was. Am I permitted to share this now?”

“Please do. Given the latest report from Kyoto, Shishio’s numbers were slightly underestimated.” The papers were rearranged to add a map with a closer view of Tokyo.

As Koshijiro pushed small wooden markers designating units, he inquired. “How much is slightly?”

“By one hundred, but the main issue is the presence of an elite group directly under Shishio. The Ten Swords have reputations of their own.” A slim folder was opened, and the reports within were read aloud. Koshijiro wasn’t sure what to make of some of the accounts, of a fearsome giant or a winged menace. He did pay attention to the monk and the blind man, both of whom could be overlooked in surveillance. The most obscure had an unknown appearance, and his existence was identified only by a series of similar mysterious deaths among high-ranking men. That one must be favored by Shishio, Koshijiro thought.

“What can we do about them?” Makino murmured. There was silence, and Koshijiro realized with a start that they were staring at him.

“I do not know if the current plan addresses the Ten Swords.” He admitted. “Saito-san is working with some trusted individuals, who are more than capable in combat. For now, I can put my faith in them. He also informed me that Shishio is planning a naval attack on Tokyo, and that is another thing I wanted to speak of. Is evacuation a viable option?”

“Evacuating the entire city of Tokyo?” Someone scoffed.

“Is it so unreasonable?” Koshijiro countered. “Shishio is driven by hatred against the government. If we fail to protect the people, it gives him further justification.”

A ripple of discomfort ran through the men. Kawaji spoke first. “It’s too early to act. Saito-san’s mission may succeed and Shishio could be finished off in Kyoto.”

“I’m not content to wait until the worst happens.”

“And neither am I.” Another man with a thick mustache agreed. “Commissioner Kawaji? Count your men. The police force will be tasked with evacuation, in a week’s time. If we hear that Shishio’s warship has passed Kyoto, start earlier.”

Kawaji lowered his head. “Yes, Minister Ito.” Ito. The new minister of the Department of Internal Affairs. The one who was now governing in Okubo’s stead.

As the papers were rolled up and they filed out, Koshijiro felt a jab against his shoulder. Frowning, he turned to see Kawaji. “Commissioner-”

“I expect you and Chief Uramura in my office tomorrow morning. We’re going to develop that plan for evacuation. Bring anything you need, I’m locking the door as soon as you’re both there. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He reached the bottom of the staircase and once the balding man walked off, he sighed. The documents needed for the logistics would have to be gathered, and the streets inspected in person for ease of access.

Makino quietly approached. “Would you like any help?”

“I can manage, and I have my subordinates to assist me. My concern is for those in Kyoto, preparing to oppose our enemy.”

“If you need manpower, I can ask around at the university. We would like a break from classes anyway.” He smiled.

“I appreciate the offer, and I wish you the best of luck in your studies, Makino-kun.”

“Thank you. Good luck to you too.”

They shook hands and parted ways in the lobby. Through the glass-paned windows, Koshijiro watched the continuing downpour, the shimmer of rainwater on the street. He thought once more of Kaoru’s letter and the phrase that rattled in his mind.

Mixed feelings.

Why did he sense that was such a loaded thing for Himura to say?

The Motomiya home was slightly smaller than his father’s, but it seemed even more so next to the adjacent main dojo. There was a grand total of fifty students, eight of whom directly assisted Motomiya-sensei. Half had trained together most of their lives and while friendly enough, they clustered together. That left Koshijiro, Kikuhara, and two others. They exchanged glances and sized each other up, before introducing themselves.

Maekawa was born and raised in Edo, and though the oldest in their little group, he was the most boisterous. That energy made him an endearing elder brother figure and a fearsome sparring partner. Nevertheless, he vigorously disliked mornings, and they often had to haul him to his feet for breakfast. But once he was awake, he couldn’t be stopped.

Surprisingly, Hayashi was from Sakura. He was a slender fellow and he had what Maekawa jokingly called “fox eyes”. He was a year younger than Koshijiro yet he had been married for half a year, in an arranged match. He was sharp-tongued, always quick to give as good as he was dealt, and the most intuitive judge of an opponent.

The four of them spent nearly all hours together, bunking down in one of the larger guest rooms. As the older half of the boarding students, they rose at dawn and assisted in errands before lessons. The vegetable garden had to be weeded, the bathhouse cleaned, the outer walls inspected for any cracks or loose bricks. The elderly housekeeper Osue was usually the one who assigned these tasks; rarely, Motomiya-sensei’s wife would leave her wing of the house. Shio-san was from Ezo, the northernmost island, and that was the sole given explanation for her appearance. Her hair was a very light brown, her almond-shaped eyes a pale blue shade. Her voice was heavily accented, though she infrequently spoke. Her interactions with Motomiya-sensei were limited to curt updates about their daughter. According to the Takaoka students, they had not seen her for years; their teacher mentioned her once to say that she was frequently ill and confined to her room.

Koshijiro sympathized, about a month into living there. A cold was skipping through the students, and it was thought to have passed. He was proven wrong. He tried restoring the moisture in his throat with water and tea, but he couldn’t stop sniffling. Over the breakfast miso, Maekawa pressed the back of his hand to Koshijiro’s forehead.

“Ouch, I think you’ve burned me. You definitely shouldn’t go with us.” They were scheduled to be at the Miyagi Shin dojo for a friendly competition.

“I can get through today.” He insisted but was undermined by a spasm of coughs.

“Coughing on your opponent doesn’t win you a match point.” Hayashi refilled his teacup. “And they’d probably hit you harder for such a thing anyway.”

Despite his protests, he was bundled into his futon, and Kikuhara propped a fresh pillow under his head. “We’ll tell you everything, Kamiya. Please rest, so you can join us soon.”

Motomiya-sensei and the others said their goodbyes from the other side of the rice paper door. Then, they departed. Koshijiro surrendered to the fatigue and fell asleep. The house was quiet, save for the footsteps of the women. When he woke, those sounds were absent. He kicked himself free of the oppressive blankets and walked to the kitchen. On the table, there was a covered bowl of soup and a note from Osue, explaining that she and Shio-san were running errands in town. They hadn’t returned when he finished eating; he had set his dishes with the ones from breakfast, when he heard a faint creak. From outside.

He did his best to silently approach the front, opening the door painstakingly. The gate was slightly open, and the reason was a girl. Her long dark hair was bound in two plaits, and her light blue kimono had an overlying pattern of scarlet-crowned cranes. A pale hand held the gate’s edge as she peered outside, and one geta hesitantly shifted forward.

“Hello?” Koshijiro thought his voice wasn’t too loud, but she jolted and spun around.

A bright red flush adorned her cheekbones, and her wide eyes were a darker hue than Shio-san’s. She looked young, fifteen or sixteen if he had to guess. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kamiya, one of the new students. I have a cold, so I stayed behind. Are you Motomiya-sensei’s daughter?”

Her nervousness dissipated as she straightened and lifted her chin. “Yes. I was just getting some fresh air. I just opened the gate…for a little more.”

“Oh. Are you feeling better?”

“Today, I am. I would like to take a walk.” She looked over her shoulder, at the gap leading to the road.

“Would you like me to help you? From a distance?”

For some reason, she smiled. “Well…do you know when they’ll be back?”

“I’m not sure, but they would be glad to see you are feeling better.”

“For today.” She emphasized and pursed her lips in thought. “Ah! It can’t be helped that I’ll stay in the yard, so could you watch the gate? I don’t want them to make a fuss or think I’m overexerting myself. Please, let me know if you see anyone heading home.”

“I can do that.” He nodded.

“Thank you.”

She paced around the courtyard, the smile lingering on her face. Occasionally, she stopped and was so still he wondered if she wasn’t as fine as she claimed. But each time, she placed one foot before the other and continued. She trailed her fingertips against the wall, carefully avoided the short eggplant stems. With great deliberation, she bent her head over the blooming jasmine.

He turned away to cough and took the opportunity to open the gate a fraction wider. No one was in sight yet. The wind sent pebbles skittering to his feet, and her giggling brought his attention. Arms outstretched, she spun around. Then, she caught his gaze and smoothed her braids into place.

“Sorry.” The blush darkened. “It’s just that it’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed the outdoors.”

“Your illness?”

“Mine is not contagious, so don’t worry. It’s…complicated.” She pointed up to the sky. “If it’s cloudy like today, I can be out. But my mother says it’s more proper to stay inside.”

“I know someone who would disagree.”

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Tension lifted from her shoulders. “She sounds nice. Do you live around here?”

“No, I’m from Oyumi. I studied under Motomiya-sensei while he was there.”

“Oh, I see.” The conversation came to a lull, and he decided to leave her be.

As the minutes passed, he maintained visual on the slight gap. The familiar figures of Osue and Shio-san, carrying groceries and talking to each other, crested a natural elevation in the road. Confident he was unseen, he quietly closed the gate and approached the girl near the wall.

“Motomiya-san.”

She glanced around, before realizing he was addressing her. “Alright, I’ll head back inside. It was a pretty day.” She wistfully stared up at the sky and then, she shuffled to the front door. He stayed a few steps behind as they entered the house, but she spoke to him again just outside the women’s corridor. “I’m grateful for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Will I confuse you with another Kamiya-kun?”

He was uncertain if there was more than one Kamiya, but he told her, with the kanji. “Kamiya Koshijiro.”

She traced the characters upon her palm, two times to be sure. She beamed at him. “I’ll remember. And you don’t have to know, but I’m Kyoko. It’s written as ‘mirror’ and ‘child’. I was born when they rang in the new year.”

“Then, I do know and I won’t forget.”

Her blue eyes widened, her mouth parting in surprise. Then, her mother and housekeeper called out their return, and she lowered her voice. “I hope you get better soon.”

“You as well.”

She ducked her head and walked into the nearest room. She was pleasant, he thought, and he hoped her recovery was smooth.

However, he didn’t meet her again until one summer night. He was staying up late, composing a letter to home. Maekawa was snoring in his corner and Kikuhara was buried beneath the covers as well.

“I’m going to sleep.” Hayashi yawned as he pulled a blanket over himself.

“Ah, I’ll blow out the candle.”

“Thanks. If you need to keep writing, the moon’s full.”

“That’s a good idea. Good night.” Koshijiro placed his letter, brush, and ink on a tray, before quietly walking out. He took a seat on the empty, illuminated porch. As he was writing his signature, a soft sound reached his ears. Thinking it was the wind, he glanced at the courtyard, but none of the leaves rustled.

It’s someone whispering. He realized. There was a soft laugh, and he recognized it. After rolling up the letter, he grabbed his shoes from the front and crept closer to the whispering. He saw her hands first, barely peeking out of an open sliding door and clasping a book. She was reading aloud, albeit at a low volume.

He tried not to startle her. “Kyoko-san?”

She gasped and the book snapped shut. The sliding door creaked from her fumbling to close it.

Damn it, he had messed up. Cringing, he motioned for her to wait. “It’s Kamiya, I apologize for disturbing you.”

The creaking stopped. “Kamiya-kun?” Momentarily, she peered out. A pink robe was draped over her shoulders, matching the color in her face. Her two plaits had been traded for a looser one draped over her collarbone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was making use of the moonlight.” He showed her the paper. “This is for my family.”

She relaxed, drawing the robe tighter around herself, and she gave a little smile. “Is it full of good things?”

“Of course. I don’t think either of my parents have been here before.”

“So it’s just to your parents?”

“Yes. And again, I’m sorry I interrupted your reading.”

“It’s alright. I know the story, I was just trying to recall what it was like with my cousin.” She opened the book. “We used to spend evenings like this, reading to each other.”

“It sounds like you miss your cousin.”

“It wasn’t so lonely with her. She’s married now, and I haven’t received any letters. I know she must be busy, but I feel like I was left behind with the books we borrowed.”

A surge of sympathy coursed through him. “Would you like new ones? I will be sending this tomorrow; it’s no issue to visit a book lender while I’m in town.”

“Could you really?” She looked so earnest. “I can repay you.”

“I couldn’t accept payment from my teacher’s daughter.” At that, her eyebrows pinched together, but he was already asking. “What would you like to read?”

“Oh, I’m not picky.” Kyoko paused. “I always like happy endings.”

“Then, I’ll do my best to look for those.”

“Thank you!” If she was this happy at such a promise, she would be ecstatic when he gave her the books. “I’m not going anywhere, so you can meet me here tomorrow night.”

“I will, and good night.”

“Good night.” She was still smiling as she closed the door.

The following afternoon, he finished lessons and left for town. Kikuhara, Hayashi, and Maekawa tagged along, citing errands of their own. After ensuring his letter was on its way to Oyumi, Koshijiro stopped by the nearest book lender. The man eyed him with suspicion as he skimmed through the last pages of each volume.

Maekawa leaned over Koshijiro’s shoulder. “Looking for something in particular?”

“…A happy ending?”

“You can find out when you rent it.” The bookseller flatly said.

“Give us five minutes.” Hayashi tossed over a dull copper coin, as Kikuhara began looking through as well. They found three that Koshijiro believed to be appropriate, and after paying, he was glad to leave.

“Didn’t know you were a reader, Kamiya-kun.” Maekawa remarked.

“It’s been some time since I was motivated to hunt for books.” He was being honest. Kikuhara glanced at him but didn’t say anything.

An hour after dusk, he stuffed his rentals in a small bag and traversed the same path to Kyoko’s room. The door was ajar, and she had not changed for bed, obviously anticipating his visit. She immediately perked up when he came into view.

“Good evening!”

“Good evening. I hope these will do.” Untying the bag, he handed her the books, one by one. She eagerly flipped through them, the color rising in her face. Her behavior was like an energetic student’s, and he smiled. “Have you read any of them before?”

“No…I recognize the author of this one, but these are all new to me. Do you have a favorite of these?”

He blinked. “Um, I haven’t read any of them. But I checked that they fit your requirement.”

“Would you like to take one? I can’t read three at once.” She offered.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time. Please, enjoy them.”

She hesitated but nodded. “I can’t thank you enough.” She placed the books in a drawer, carefully tucking them under folded kimonos. He was waiting to wish her goodbye, when the door behind her abruptly opened.

“Okaa-san!” Kyoko was about to go to her, but her mother gestured for her to stay where she was. Shio-san then looked to Koshijiro, and she regarded him with clear trepidation.

“You are a student of my husband.”

“Yes, I’m Kamiya. I was-”

“I had the door open because it was too warm. He was walking by and said hello.” From where he was standing, he was unable to see her face although her shoulders were tense.

Koshijiro played along. “That’s right.”

“Oh.” Some of the doubt fled her face, and she stood next to her daughter, stroking her hair. “Have a good evening.”

That was his cue to leave, and he bowed to them. As soon as he turned the corner, he heard the door slam shut. It was not his place to intrude on their family dynamic, he told himself. However, he resolved to find more books the next time he was in town.

In the meantime, he enjoyed his new responsibilities. For half of the day, each senior student was permitted to lead the class. Motomiya-sensei did not interfere, although he was always nearby if anyone had a question. Koshijiro’s adrenaline spiked during his turn, his senses alert and his mind juggling the various tasks and requests sent his way. The anxiety subsided as he became more comfortable, and he readily walked among the students, seeing how he could help. It was during a lull when the class was running smoothly and he had a moment to breathe, that he gazed around and could envision a school of his own. A fierce, visceral longing swept over him, along with a solemn realization.

As much as he missed home, he could only achieve his new dream here.

Summer came to a close. His father wrote of recent events, including the acquisition of a rowdy colt. Otherwise, Koshijiro had missed nothing out of the ordinary. Motomiya-sensei worked on a new kata, which was tricky to learn but elegant to perform. The class was witness to its evolution, and Koshijiro wasn’t the only one impressed by how innovative it was.

Tanabata was celebrated with a festival in town, and Maekawa was eager to attend. “Let’s have a night to ourselves! After all, we have a cowherd right here.” He delivered a friendly smack to Hayashi’s shoulder.

“I just want a drink.” Hayashi shrugged. “Kikuhara, Kamiya, care to join?”

“Sure. I always like the fireworks.” Kikuhara smiled, and Koshijiro agreed.

The night was raucous, full of noise and laughter. The four of them had walked through town, led by Hayashi who was hunting for good sake. They were fortunate to admire the fireworks display from one of the bridges, and cheered on the grand finale of explosive color. After getting past the crowd, they strolled back. Maekawa jauntily sang a tune played at the festival, and Hayashi provided tipsy accompaniment in the form of snapping off time. Kikuhara and Koshijiro trailed behind them, watching with amusement.

“This was fun.” Kikuhara remarked.

“It was. We haven’t been out in a while.”

“That’s right, the last time we were all together was in spring. Speaking of which, how are your books?”

“Oh. Well, they weren’t for me. I gave them to a friend.” Come to think of it, he had not seen Kyoko since that night. How ill was she?

“Your friend must be grateful.”

Then, an irritable Osue opened the gate, telling them to hurry up. Nobody spoke after that, trying to be as quiet as possible and leave their hosts to sleep.

Koshijiro managed to find some respite, but he was restless. Unable to sleep, he quietly exited the room to wash his face. Heavy fog enveloped the outside of the house, and he shook the water off his hands. The slight sound of the drops against the basin echoed. Far off, a bird gave a mournful two-note cry. Overhead, the sky was beginning to lighten with each passing second. And a familiar whispering floated towards him. He couldn’t help feeling relieved as he headed directly for Kyoko’s room. Her silhouette came into view, leaning against her door. She paused in her reading, and her broad smile greeted him once he emerged from the mist.

“Kamiya-kun, it’s been a while.”

“It has. How are you?”

“My joints ache, but I can bear it.”

“Is it too cold now?” Koshijiro thought it wasn’t, but her face was pink.

“It will be later. I want to enjoy the fresh air while I can, without the sun making me itch. At this rate, I’ll only be free in spring and autumn.” She sighed.

“I’ve never heard of such an illness before.”

“It’s rare, from what the doctors told me. I’ve always been easily sick, but this began in winter. They could tell what it was because of this rash in the shape of a butterfly.” She pointed to her cheeks. “And now, my joints are like a grandmother’s. I was told the pain should wane, and it’s hard not knowing exactly when.”

He wryly smiled at her impatience. “Until it does, I can bring you more books. Unless I chose poorly last time.”

“You didn’t! There was something to like in each. Osue already returned them with the others I had, she didn’t suspect. Would you like to hear this new one she found?” She sat down, setting the book in her lap. She had lit up, and it was a welcome change from her earlier frustration.

“If it’s no trouble. You don’t have to start over.”

“Then, I’ll try to summarize.” The plot regarded a Heian prince who had fallen in love with a mysterious woman, to his advisors’ displeasure. Then, Kyoko resumed the story and she gave a different intonation to each character. The minister of the left had a lower pitch than the prince’s huskier cadence, and the noblewoman spoke softly and carefully as befitting her station. Kyoko’s regular voice was reserved for the narration, and though it was a simple tale, Koshijiro liked it. He also liked her acting, that she could bring forth different people with subtle head turns and gestures.

Once she finished the chapter, she paused. “My mother should have completed her morning prayers.”

He had to leave. “I know that the book ends happily.”

“Yes, but it’s not the ending, it’s how the story unfolds.”

“And you portrayed it very well. It was like I was there in court, hundreds of years ago.”

“Thank you.” She smiled.

“Would you continue with the next part if I’m here tomorrow?” He didn’t mind rising early, and this activity obviously restored Kyoko’s spirits. If she could forget her symptoms for a little while, it was worth it.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Then, I’ll see you.”

“See you.” She echoed, and she looked much happier.

Unexpectedly, he saw her that afternoon. She was present at dinner, to serve her father tea. The other students stole glances at her, although Koshijiro felt her eyes on him. Motomiya-sensei drank from the cup without looking at her. “You seem well enough today.”

“I am doing my best to endure.” Kyoko replied, strangely dispassionate.

“Tell your mother you should continue doing this. Work will make you stronger.”

“I have been assisting Osue in the kitchen.”

“She isn’t pushing you hard enough.” Motomiya-sensei clacked his chopsticks together. “You are a young woman now, and you will be someone’s wife in the future. In order to provide for your husband, you need to overcome whatever fresh illness this is.”

“Yes, Otou-san.” Kyoko bowed, excusing herself. She maintained a neutral façade, which cracked when she slowly stood. A brief grimace contorted her features, but she lowered her head and shuffled out of the room.

The scene lingered in his mind, and admittedly, his admiration of his teacher cooled. Motomiya-sensei was undeniably intelligent and the students were drawn to such expertise, but wasn’t that respect superficial? For Koshijiro, he would eventually conclude that knowledge was good, but kindness was better. Motomiya-sensei’s brilliance and dedication came at the cost of terse, strained relationships with his wife and daughter. And out of all the things he learned at the Motomiya Shin dojo, Koshijiro believed that was the most valuable lesson.

Two years fled by. At twenty-one, Koshijiro was slightly taller than his father, though Okaa-san remarked she couldn’t tell their broad figures apart when they faced away from her. Although she returned to Sakura without fail, her visits were a little longer each time and she brought some of her pieces to sell. Otou-san tagged along with his own artwork, and the pair strolled through the marketplace, amiably talking. Whatever was between them now, Koshijiro had grown accustomed to it. The comfort of his childhood house became a fond memory, and he was truly at peace with the present.

Homesickness began to accompany him to the dojo, but it faded when he saw the grinning faces of his friends. Wood and bamboo had remained their primary tools, though their use of real blades increased. Years of training had ensured his skill, but the sharp edge usually awoke a sense of caution. He did not prefer steel, but he could use it if necessary. Only Kikuhara outmatched him in dislike for bloodshed; Maekawa and Hayashi believed similar weaponry made for the best defense. The four of them were promoted to assistant instructors, the succession technique a one-handed overhead block. The maneuver’s strength and precision necessitated many hours of practice. They often collapsed in the grass, sprawled out and poking fun at each other’s mistakes.

He should have been tired all the time, but he never was when listening to Kyoko. Chapter by chapter, volume by volume, they had continued their book exchange. She did like happy endings, but with time, her tastes ventured bittersweet and the plots became more complicated. After Kyoko found a place to stop reading, they typically spent a few minutes to discuss. He leaned against the house’s exterior, out of the scope of her vision yet still close enough to converse, and she paced the length of her room.

“I like the story so far, but I feel like there’s something foreboding. I’m not sure if I trust Lady Beni.” She referred to the heroine’s aunt.

“She was very rattled when she lost sight of her niece for an hour. I keep remembering that; it was like we saw her true colors for a moment.”

“Yes, I thought it was odd. I wonder if she has an ulterior motive.”

“Money is my guess. Her late husband was in debt, the main family branch is wealthy, and there is only one heir who is conveniently unmarried.”

“Mm, that makes sense.”

“What do you think?”

She brought her thumb to her mouth, rubbing her bottom lip. “I’d like to look back. Maybe, I can find a hint in an earlier chapter. Although…I have the feeling she’s envious. What she’ll do about it, I’m not sure. Nothing too sinister, I hope.”

“We will have to see as the story continues.”

“Of course.” Then, she slipped on her shoes and walked onto the grass. “I’m going to take a walk.”

He stepped aside to let her through. Recently, she had been well enough to stroll around the house with a parasol. During practice, she would greet the students in the presence of Motomiya-sensei and Shio-san. When she came to Koshijiro, they could address each other properly. As with any other student, her voice was gentle yet unwavering. He was polite in turn, giving her due respect as his master’s daughter.

Now, he followed an arm’s length behind her. She glanced at him, her expression mystified. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then, why are you so far away?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate to walk with you.”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. Then, she deliberately stepped towards him.

He moved back a similar distance, but for every step of his, she took two to catch up to him. It was his turn to be perplexed. “Um, Kyoko-san?”

“If I’m going to talk to you, I’d rather do it face to face.” She said. “Otherwise, how can my words reach you? Aren’t we friends? Or did that change, now that my parents aren’t around?”

“…No, you’re right. We speak face to face around your parents.” Embarrassed, he walked beside her. “For me, a friend was usually another student. Not that I didn’t think of you as a friend, but our meetings have always been different. I suppose I’m not used to a change in routine.”

“A friend is a friend, Kamiya-kun. I didn’t ask you to move in the past, because I thought you were comfortable next to the door. But now that I’m feeling better, I don’t want you to treat me any different when it’s just us.”

“Then, should I talk about kenjutsu?”

She laughed. “Talk about whatever you want. I’ll listen, like you have with me.”

He didn’t talk about kenjutsu, not directly at least. A plaintive dog’s howl reminded him of the earliest days of his childhood, and his tongue freed the quaint memories. Kyoko was quietly attentive, occasionally giggling or humming in sympathy. The move to his father’s house remained unspoken, as the rising sun signaled an end to their outing.

“I never knew you grew up in the country. And your parents truly care for you. They’re kind. Have you ever thought of writing these memories down?”

“I have, but time is the limiting factor. I don’t know if I have the talent to write eloquently either.”

“It doesn’t have to be eloquent. It’s your story, so that means it’s you. Even if no one else reads it, I would.” She had the most beautiful smile. Had it always been so?

“R-right.” He coughed. “I should go. Have a good day.” Her response washed over him, as he hurried to the dojo. His ears burned, and he stumbled over a jutting tree root.

He was probably getting sick again.

Oddly, the feeling ebbed during practice and he wasn’t feverish at all. That summer, they hosted a group from another school. Kyoko appeared in the middle of a water break, setting down a basket of senbei. The students crowded around, grabbing the seasoned rice crackers. Koshijiro had allowed the younger boys to go ahead of him, so he was among the last. As he approached, he spotted an unfamiliar teenager grinning next to Kyoko. He was rather excitable, his gestures wide and almost hitting her. She smiled but glanced at her father, who was in deep conversation with the visiting head instructor.

Koshijiro was nudged, and Maekawa said. “Hey, do you want your share?” As he offered a cracker, the teachers came over. The student was introduced to both Maekawa and Koshijiro, and his sparring ability was praised before the other instructor turned to Kyoko.

“And this is your daughter, Motomiya-sensei? She’s quite the young lady! Thank you for the senbei.”

“You’re welcome. I hope everyone enjoys them and that the rest of practice goes well.” She bowed and excused herself, the teenager’s eyes obviously following her as she exited. And Koshijiro was very irked.

They had matches in the afternoon, meant to be friendly but soon became competitive among the older students. Koshijiro hadn’t participated yet, deferring to his classmates. The number of remaining contestants whittled down, until the teenager stepped up. No one from the Motomiya Shin dojo was responding; Koshijiro attempted to remember who else was left on their side of the room. He registered Maekawa’s murmur. “Here’s your chance!” And he was thrust into the middle of the floor. Flashing a disgruntled look at his merry friend, he rolled his shoulders and readied his shinai.

To put it bluntly, it was a sound thrashing. For all of the earlier praise, his opponent was disturbingly simple to beat. Or maybe, Koshijiro was just particularly motivated. After the match was called in his favor, he was glad to curtly bow and disappear in the crowd of his class. He won, but he was still irritated when he remembered that face beside Kyoko’s.

What was wrong with him? He had no right to be so possessive of their friendship. He needed advice, and he didn’t want to ask anyone who already knew Kyoko. So, he wrote a letter to Otou-san, explaining what happened. Something in him sought guidance, and Otou-san’s strength was in social charisma. The reply was swift.

Koshijiro, what you are experiencing is love.

He immediately crumpled the letter. After a second, he undid his work and read it again.

I have a hunch that you’re like your mother when it comes to this, so my advice is to stay calm and not push her away. I know you always err on the side of propriety, but if you bring up too many walls, you will shut her out. Remember your father can help you, should you be confused.

He fed the message to a lantern, though the words had already been seared into his mind. He decided that he would behave like he always had. Regardless of his emotions, they were still friends.

And friends did not dream of kissing each other. Pink mouth, long lashes, pale throat. Hands tracing through his hair, upon his jawline and shoulders. Koshijiro woke to extreme discomfort, appalled at what his imagination had created and mortified that he hadn’t hated it. Over the wash basin, he repeatedly slapped his cheeks. Surely, he looked a mess when he walked to Kyoko’s door. He had briefly considered not going, but the thought of disappointing her outweighed his shame. Returning her greeting and taking a position under the shade of an oak tree, he tried to bury the memory in the deep recesses of his mind.

It was a losing battle. She was acting out the heroine, who she especially liked because the character’s personality was close to her own. In this chapter, the heroine was fussing over a poem from her beloved. With every languid smile and glint of inspiration, the dream resurfaced. He knew he was averting direct eye contact, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He broke out into a sweat and he used his threadbare handkerchief to wipe his face. No wonder he had mistaken love for a sickness. Kyoko noticed his fidgeting and broke off mid-sentence.

“It’s the heat, isn’t it? I can bring you some water.” Before he could protest, she was already heading out. He wrung the damp cloth in his hands, ashamed of how self-destructive he was, until she returned. “Here you are.”

The cup was brimming, drops of water trailing down the lacquered surface. Very carefully, he accepted it and she brushed his knuckles. Her touch was like lightning and it took all of his effort not to flinch. She sat next to him, her presence emanating the faint scent of the peonies growing by the kitchen. And worry. It couldn’t continue like this.

Don’t shut her out.

He grasped that knowledge and held on. He inhaled. One, two. Three. The internal turmoil receded, and he was able to meet her gaze. “Sorry. I wasn’t feeling like myself, but…I’m better now. Thank you.”

She blinked, still concerned. “You’re welcome, Kamiya-kun. If you ever feel that way again, let me know and I’ll do my best to help you. I’m not going anywhere.” Her remark turned out to be true, but he could not say the same.

Four black ships sailed into Edo Bay, and the reaction was of terror and suspicion. A foreign incursion seemed imminent, and after multiple demanding letters to the dojo, every student was to be sent home. Motomiya-sensei solemnly addressed them as he closed out their last class.

“Whether you’ve been learning in this dojo for ten days or ten years, you are all students of Motomiya Shin. My part in your journey ends here; it is up to you to refine your knowledge and make full use of your potential. I wish you all safe travels, and that you will live well regardless of what happens.”

Admittedly, Koshijiro’s throat closed as he was overcome with emotion. He still respected Motomiya-sensei as his teacher, and he was incredibly grateful for the experience he had gained. When, the class bowed as one, it felt final.

Motomiya-sensei later spoke to each student individually. To Koshijiro, he said. “If there is a time of peace, see if you can return. I would not want to tear you away from a better opportunity in your hometown, but if you are willing, plenty of students would gladly seek you as their teacher in a new dojo.”

In other words, Motomiya-sensei’s offer was to start a school. It was a dream tantalizingly out of reach. Koshijiro resented the current instability. “I will definitely consider your offer, it’s what I was hoping for. Your generosity means a great deal, and I won’t easily forget. Goodbye, Motomiya-sensei.”

“Goodbye, Kamiya-kun.”

He had one last dinner with Maekawa, Hayashi, and Kikuhara. The flow of alcohol was conservative this time, for Kikuhara did not want to travel with a hangover.

“What are you going to do in Echigo?” Hayashi mixed seven spice powder into the remainder of his soba noodles.

“I’m thinking of starting my own school, based on my previous experience and what I have attained from Motomiya Shin. My family has a small building that I am allowed to use. If any of you want to join me, you can.”

Maekawa shook his head. “I have to decline. I’m thinking of getting married.”

“Huh?!” Their jaws collectively dropped.

“It’s about time, and I have my eye on someone. Wish me luck!” He raised his cup and drained it. “As for kenjutsu, I’ll continue teaching in my father’s school of Chuuetsu. But I want to add my own style. I prefer using shinai and bokken; there’s no point in getting hurt during practice.”

“I’m going to start my own school. Give me four walls and I can make it happen.” His confidence was enviable. They then turned to Koshijiro.

“That’s what I want as well. I may help out in the dojos in my hometown first, to save up. Hopefully, that will be within the next ten years.” He set down his chopsticks. He would have to trust in hard work and commitment.

“Definitely before then. The same goes for the rest of us.”

“If that’s so, let’s become full-fledged head instructors together.” Kikuhara smiled.

“Sounds like a promise!” Maekawa split the leftover sake into their cups.

The clink of porcelain accompanied their hearty toast. “Cheers!”

On the morning of his departure, he maintained his routine and went to Kyoko’s doorway. She was already up, absent-mindedly turning pages of the book they had been reading together. When he waved, she looked ready to applaud. “I didn’t know if you wouldn’t come today.”

“Well, we can’t leave this story unfinished.”

Kyoko was radiant. “Let’s skim through.”

They sat on the threshold and rushed through the last three chapters, figuring out the general fates of the characters. Koshijiro believed the author had done a satisfactory job, and he was about to say so when Kyoko abruptly made for her wooden chest. She brought out a handkerchief, and smiling, she pressed it into his hands.

“Uh…this is for me?” How articulate. Damn it.

“Yes, I finished it in time today.” The cloth was dark blue and white cross stitches were sewn throughout in an irregular pattern. “It’s the night sky over Takaoka. At least, when I thought of the idea. Is it too big?”

“No, it’s perfect. I can take a part of your home with me. Thank you.” He neatly folded the handkerchief and tucked the square into his gi. “I will take good care of it.”

“Please take care of yourself too.” She tucked her braids behind her ears, her voice sorrowful. “I really enjoyed reading to you.”

Kyoko’s sadness made his own heart ache. A hero from books would have cupped her cheek, telling her not to cry. But he wasn’t a hero, just an awkward man who couldn’t even endure a glance from her. He cleared his throat. “I enjoyed listening to you. And meeting you. It was fun.”

“I wish…” She clamped her lips together. “Never mind. I don’t want to make you late.” She turned away to step back into her room, but she stumbled. Koshijiro acted on reflex, catching her wrist. The rational part of him said it was a mistake, the irrational part said absolutely not. The nerves in his arm were alight, and he almost missed her holding the door’s edge.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes.” At her answer, he let go. He hoped he hadn’t caressed her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” And with a leaden tongue, he added. “Goodbye, Kyoko-san.”

“Goodbye, Kamiya-kun. Travel safely.” She ducked inside, giving him a brilliant smile before gently closing the door. He lingered, a little dazed, before trudging towards the gate.

Shio-san emerged from around the corner. She’d obviously been listening, and Koshijiro’s gut plunged. She did not speak at first. Her assessment was deliberate, pale eyes scouring him from head to toe. At last, her lips drew tight and Koshijiro was nervous, before she sighed. “I was wrong. You are kind to my daughter. Thank you.” Shio-san gave a nod, and steering clear of him, she retreated into the house. He wondered how much she had known of his and Kyoko’s friendship. Had she noticed his growing affection for Kyoko?

Koshijiro was welcomed home by his father and the rest of the household. While traveling, he had purchased gifts and distributed them accordingly. For the retainers, fresh whetstones. For the maids, mortars and pestles. For Otou-san, a set of higher-quality brushes. For Oichi, a new pan and ohagi. She smiled at the sweet treat and pointed to the top of his head, indicating he had grown taller. Sheepishly, he also gave her a scarf for his old teacher and a promise to showcase what he’d learned.

With the increasing militarization, it was safer for Koshijiro and Otou-san to travel to his mother instead. Okaa-san was pleasantly surprised, and she hurriedly cleared space for them. Nevertheless, her lodgings were noticeably more cramped with three people. While Otou-san sketched and Okaa-san worked at her loom, he dried his forehead and neck.

“That’s a fancy handkerchief.” Okaa-san commented.

He almost jumped in realization, as a section of the Takaoka night sky was in his hand. “It was a gift from Motomiya-sensei’s daughter.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve only mentioned her a few times, so I thought she was a little girl. The handiwork makes me think otherwise.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“Hmm. What did you get her?”

“What do you mean?”

Okaa-san’s expression was of utter disappointment. “When you receive an item, especially from a young lady, you give a gift in return.”

Damn it, he really was terrible. “I should have. I’ll think of something, if things settle down and I see her again.”

Quiet fell over them. None of them embraced the prospect of war. The leader of the Americans had sworn they would return, and fortifications were in development. The rumor was that Edo would soon have cannons and warships. If the shogun didn’t open the borders to trade, they would have to defend.

“I like her.” Okaa-san suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“I can tell she’s a very careful and creative person.”

“You’re only saying that because of her embroidery.” He muttered. He was fervently trying not to look at his father.

“You can tell a lot about someone from their craft.” Her retort was indignant. “Don’t you feel the same about your kenjutsu?”

“…That’s fair.”

Adding a smooth ink stroke to the paper, Otou-san chuckled. “It holds true for painting as well.”

Koshijiro nodded, while his mother said. “I agree. I also heard that from the artists in Nakajima.” This caused them to look at her, so she clarified. “I was born there. Another forgotten child, left on the streets. Then, I hopped on a cart, traveling to a little town not far from Edo…and well, the rest is known.”

“I never knew.” Otou-san’s tone was gentle. “You never spoke of your life before we met.”

She shrugged. “If I had family there, I wouldn’t know. But I have the two of you. That’s all I need.”

They made the most of their visit, enjoying the autumn weather. Koshijiro purchased a cheap kite and had fun in flying it, though his father was the best at tricky maneuvers. The bright red paper spun and whirled, as nimble as a phoenix. Okaa-san’s encouraging laughter was like its song. Afterwards, Otou-san went to the market to buy materials and escort Okaa-san to a midwife requesting her help. Believing he was alone, Koshijiro cleaned his swords. However, his mother returned early and she stared for a moment at the gleaming metal. But she didn’t flinch.

He apologized anyway, sheathing the blades. “Sorry, Okaa-san.”

“It’s fine.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve made my peace with it, because it’s what makes you content and secure. I trust you. And didn’t I tell you I wanted you to live well?” Her mouth quirked. “Anyway, what’s the name of the young lady?”

“You’re not very subtle.” That made her laugh. “Kyoko-san. She thinks you’re kind.”

“You told her about me? Well, I would like to meet her someday. If possible.” She added. Koshijiro hoped so too.

It was always sad to part, but this time, it was accompanied with uncertainty. No one was eager to say goodbye first.

“Please look after yourself, Okaa-san.” Koshijiro thought she looked small, the gray in her hair more prominent. “And we’ll write.”

“Don’t hesitate to contact us. We can rush over if there is trouble.” Otou-san was completely serious.

She sighed, but her wry smile gave her away. “I know you would. I’ll be thinking of you both.” She embraced Koshijiro, and her frame was warm. Then, she turned to Otou-san and did the same. He gingerly touched her shoulder, before holding her. The moment of open tenderness was like a sunbeam. When Okaa-san extracted herself, they were red-faced but Koshijiro pretended he hadn’t noticed. As they headed off in the cart, she even offered a little wave. They returned the gesture, watching her disappear.

But all good things ended. The Ansei era began that month, and shortly after, so did the disasters.

The first earthquake caused the ocean to rise along the coastline. Their house was further inland, but the destruction shocked Koshijiro. Houses reduced to splinters, boats crushed, and the urgent, despairing shouts of the citizens. He and Otou-san assisted in the seemingly infinite repairs. Wherever they worked, salt hung in the air. He was so busy, he wasn’t aware there was a second until months later. Then, the third struck Edo and the reverberations hit them as well. His memory of it was fragmented. Otou-san, urging everyone out of the house and into the yard. The ground violently rolling underneath him, tiles sliding off the roof and shattering. The needling thought, that they might not survive. But they did, despite the ruin and fire and ensuing panic.

Then, cholera spread. Koshijiro contracted the illness and decades later, his memories of that time were hazy. It was probably for the best. The aftermath was what mattered.

His father was frail but alive. Most of their servants made a full recovery, with a handful in a similar condition as Otou-san. Oichi was among the unaffected, and though she nursed the household, she visited her father every day. However, it wasn’t enough. The day after Koshijiro was free from his sickbed, there was a note waiting for him. Oichi’s handwriting was blotchy.

Going to burn the house.

By the time he arrived, the place was already smoldering timber and ash. The smoke prevented him from getting any closer and stung his eyes. And the smell…

“Sensei! Oichi-san!” He was adrift in eerie silence. Unable to tolerate the cremation any longer, he traced his steps back home. There, he waited for Oichi, but she never showed. The healthiest individuals were ordered to look for her, in case she had run into trouble. Strangely, nobody could find her. The search continued; ultimately, they were left to a grim conclusion. She had simply vanished, like so many people had in this chaos. But they had not found her dead and that was some comfort. Whenever she resurfaced, Koshijiro would welcome her back and honor the kindness she and her father had shown him.

I will make you proud, Sensei. Everything you taught me, I will pass on to my students because I am your legacy. Right? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything now, of who would live or die. And his first teacher wasn’t even given a proper burial, only fire. Fire.

Okaa-san’s letters throughout his childhood were in Sensei’s house. Now, they were sparks in the wind.

Okaa-san.

Koshijiro scrambled to his feet, grabbing his swords and steering his horse to the road. Had Sakura been affected? It was already a year since they visited her, the disaster recovery impeding travel and increasing work on both sides. Even her recent letter was perfunctory, that the group had a big project and she couldn’t wait to share the details with him and Otou-san. He spoke to the closest servant. “Tell my father I’m going to Sakura.” The dust swirled in his wake.

He felt like he was half conscious and half not. Sound and sensation were dull, yet he was hyperaware of his pulse in his ears. The heartbeat swelled to a roar as he spotted the boarded buildings of the street where Okaa-san lived. He stopped at hers and through the cracks, it was apparently dark and vacant. He dismounted, heard his voice repeating. “No. No. No.”

A flicker of movement appeared in his peripheral vision, and he turned to see a gaunt girl. She was standing across the street, clutching a shawl around her shoulders. She averted eye contact but he called out.

“There’s a woman who lives here. Her name is Miyo and I am her son. Can you tell me where she is?” Once he asked, he read the answer in her face.

His mother was no longer in this world.

“She was the first in our group to get sick. We would have taken care of her…but it was already too late. She told us that if her family came, she wanted them to know she loves them and she wished she could see you again.”

Koshijiro had too many questions, and his voice failed him multiple times, before he finally forced out a single one. “Did she suffer?”

“Not for long. I’m sorry.” A nervous bow, and she scurried off.

Somehow, he rode to the temple where they had reunited seven years ago. They did have an urn of her remains, and it was cold in his hands. As if on puppet strings, his tongue moved to express gratitude and his fingers lit a stick of incense in offering before he left Sakura for good. He numbly held the reins and his face was raw from the speed of travel, but he barely registered anything. His surroundings blurred together, until his father materialized before him. Otou-san took one look at him and fell to his knees.

They buried the urn in a simple grave, the marker bearing the two characters of her name. She deserved far more. Afterwards, grief consumed him. He hadn’t been there for her, she had died alone. He should have gone to Sakura earlier. What kind of son was he? All that was left of his willful mother was ash…and himself. That must be why Otou-san had locked himself away in his room. Koshijiro had no strength to break the barrier. Maybe she was the bridge that kept their family together. Maybe Otou-san couldn’t bear to look at the child who reminded him of the woman he loved. Maybe Koshijiro had renewed his resentment for his father, for not making her stay last year, seventeen years, twenty-two years ago.

The longest week of their lives passed. Otou-san emerged, ragged and weary. Koshijiro believed he appeared the same way. Silently, they burned incense at Okaa-san’s grave and prayed for her soul. His father spoke first.

“I spoke to my superiors; I am going to check on your siblings. I haven’t heard from them at all.” Now that leadership had capitulated, foreign trade was permitted, and the threat of war had fizzled. Otou-san looked at him. “Will you be joining me?”

“No.” They could have written, and it wasn’t his responsibility to look after their well-being, he darkly thought.

“Then what will you do?”

“I’m allowed a week off. I’m going to Takaoka.” Motomiya-sensei hadn’t written either. He was worried about Kyoko; she would be vulnerable to the ravages of cholera.

“I understand, you should go. Koshijiro.” His father’s hand clasped his shoulder, and Koshijiro saw the desperation in his gaze. “Be careful. Please.”

He swallowed the emotion rising in his throat. “Be careful too, Otou-san.”

Those were the last words they’d exchange in person for a number of years. He would learn that contact had been lost with Otsuna, and Kinutake’s work necessitated guidance, but neither he nor his father expected to be apart for such a long time. They might have tried to speak longer if they had.

When Koshijiro returned to the Motomiya Shin dojo, he noticed it was unusually quiet for midday. The surrounding greenery had shriveled into brown stalks, and dead branches crackled underfoot as he approached the gate. He knocked. “It’s Kamiya Koshijiro. I’m here to check in. Is anyone home?”

No answer. He considered calling out again, when the faint sliding noise of the bolt reached his ears. The gate opened, and he stilled, pulse pounding.

Kyoko had lost weight, her cheekbones prominent and the rash even more so. Thin fingers clutched unbound hair. Eyes wide, she inhaled sharply. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“I am.” He was terribly concerned; she looked worn out. “Do you need help?”

“Oh. Oh, yes. I…it’s been hard.”

He hadn’t heard any other voices, and he looked around as he entered the courtyard. It was in no better state than outside. “Kyoko-san, were you home alone?”

A sob immediately pulled him back to her. “They’re gone. Both of them.” Kyoko dropped her face into her palms, and her shoulders trembled. “Otou-san was heading out to teach, Okaa-san wanted to buy something in town. Then, the earthquake…I caught up to them. I saw them on the side of the road. There was a tree…” She stopped talking.

Motomiya-sensei was dead. Shio-san was dead.

Koshijiro reached out to her, caught himself, and dropped his hand. “You don’t have to say any more. What about Osue?”

“She just stepped out. She should be home soon.” Her choked voice was muffled. “They were holding on to each other. I still can’t believe it…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He forced out the next words. “My mother died from cholera.”

“I’m sorry too.” The wind picked up, making her shiver, and they went inside.

He lit incense at the little altar Kyoko had set up. For Shio-san, mysterious to the end. For Motomiya-sensei, who still elicited a conflicting opinion from Koshijiro. He felt numb. Too many lives had been taken in a short period, without time to process. Kyoko surely felt the same way. The rooms were disorganized, uprooted for the funerals and left alone since.

“My father’s cousin inherited the house. He’s allowing me to stay until the one hundred days are over.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t know what to do…and I’m not feeling well again.”

“Then, I am glad I stopped by. If there is anything you need help with, let me know. We can take it step by step, and you can decide when you’re feeling better.”

“Yes.” Kyoko seemed to remember herself, quickly shaking her head. “You came all this way, I can’t let you leave empty-handed.” She squared her shoulders, prepared to rummage through the clutter.

He declined, reassuring her. “You don’t have to. I’ll return on my days off, for as long as I am able.” His honesty sent her on a fresh wave of emotion, and she could only nod.

In the following weeks, he focused on providing assistance. He was an old hand, greatly relieving Osue. And the labor gave him time to reflect. There would always be a sore spot in his heart where his mother used to be, but she had always wanted him to live well. As her son and even though he would miss her, he could honor her memory best by remembering her words and acting in ways she’d be proud of. Some days, he truly believed this; other days, he was wracked with sorrow. But he continued to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. Slowly, the latter days decreased in number and the pressure of grief relented.

Kyoko was worse off. Stress had caused her illness to flare. Her chest pain was new, and it was so severe that she couldn’t take a deep breath. Talking was limited, which mentally wounded her as well. Osue was chattier than usual, but it wasn’t enough.

After the housekeeper exited Kyoko’s room, Koshijiro was waiting. He sat across from the door, book in his hands, and read aloud to her. He had none of Kyoko’s talent, each character indistinguishable from the next and he sometimes had to break for air in the middle of a good paragraph. He was definitely not entertaining at all, which was why he maintained focus on the pages. Halfway through the chapter, he gathered the courage to glance up at her. Kyoko had her hands pressed to her mouth, and she looked at him as if every word he spoke was a jewel.

Gradually, she recovered and insisted on working by Osue’s side. She knew her limits, but she marked her improvement, and if she hadn’t, she swore ‘tomorrow will be better’. It was at the end of one taxing day that she unraveled the knot of her distress.

“There were things left unfinished. Once, my parents were close. From what my mother said, she was in a group of people shipped from Ezo, and he bought all of their freedom. She stayed, they married. But the dojo grew and Okaa-san’s babies weren’t carried to term until me. Along the way, they stopped talking. I thought it was Otou-san’s fault at first, but I’m not so sure anymore. He was trying to protect Okaa-san in his last moments, and I don’t know what to think. And I blame myself too. If I was well, they could have talked without snapping at each other.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” He automatically said. “Your condition is something even the doctors can’t decipher. Nevertheless, I’ve seen you persevere, how much you strive for your goals. That’s admirable.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Her gratitude flustered him, but he continued. “As for your parents, I may understand.” And he told her everything. His siblings, his introduction to kenjutsu, his search for his mother. The reconciliation, the short wonderful times as a family again. Kyoko listened to his past, and when he finally ran out of breath, she reached out to touch his sleeve.

“You trust me with your story?”

“I do, although I don’t know if I’ve told you all of it.”

“I don’t mind. There are some parts of a story that aren’t written. But in yours, your mother lives on.”

“And your parents live on in your own.”

“That’s true.” Her smile was bittersweet, yet still beautiful.

The sun warmed the earth, the plants sprouted, and life returned to the house. A few of the nearby students visited, praying for the deceased. Kikuhara did as well, confiding he needed to get away from Echigo.

That worried Koshijiro. “Did something happen?”

“It’s not serious. That person needs to continue his family line. I just need time for my heart to catch up.” Kikuhara’s mouth was a taut line, and Koshijiro awkwardly clapped his shoulder.

“I’ll listen if you need to vent.”

“There won’t be much of that. It’s kind of you to offer.” Kikuhara seemed down for a while, but Koshijiro provided distraction through practice rounds and discussions of kenjutsu. It was reminiscent of their days as students. And Kikuhara began to smile again.

During a rainy afternoon, an unfamiliar, middle-aged man arrived. Kyoko welcomed him with familiarity. From the snatches of conversation he overheard, Koshijiro presumed it was the cousin who had once taken care of the house during Motomiya-sensei’s stint in Oyumi. They spoke privately, before he left a contemplative Kyoko.

Koshijiro would have asked if she was alright, but he faltered. If he spoke to her, he would have to mention the news he’d received. Due to an unfortunate accidental death, he was being promoted, to a position equal to his father’s. With an increase in salary, his duties would expand, and he could no longer spend every weekend away. His time was running out. After the dishes were cleared, he was in the old guest room and staring at a blank piece of paper when Kikuhara came in.

“Having trouble writing a response?”

“It is hard to pretend that I’m not reluctant to leave.”

Kikuhara folded his arms. “Are you planning on bringing Kyoko-san with you?”

He cringed. “Was it obvious?”

“Well, I suspected ever since you borrowed the first book. That’s not to say I disapprove, though a life with her wouldn’t be an easy one.” Kikuhara slowly said. “But I know you, Kamiya-kun. You would never abandon anyone, especially not the beloved daughter of the teacher we studied under for years.”

A new voice joined the conversation. “And those years now seem so short.” Hayashi entered, travel-worn and smirking as he moved to the other side of Koshijiro. He was fresh out of his hometown, here to pay respects.

“Is everyone in your household well?” Koshijiro inquired.

“Everyone who’s still there. I’m no longer married. She requested to return to her family and care for them, but she decided to stay there. There’s no point in making her stay if she doesn’t want to and my mother was very overbearing towards her.” Hayashi conceded. He rarely spoke of his parents, but Koshijiro had the impression that they were quite controlling. It probably factored into why Hayashi was unbothered by the lack of any children.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Hayashi shrugged. “What’s done is done. Anyway, what’s with you and Kyoko-san?” He must have been eavesdropping before barging in.

“Nothing official.” Koshijiro hastily replied. “My only desire is for her to be happy.”

Exasperation crossed Hayashi’s features. “You make her happy. And happiness isn’t a prerequisite for marriage. So, what are you waiting for?”

“We’ve both lost family. It’s better with every month, but I want to be sure that Kyoko is ready.”

“You have a point.” Kikuhara agreed. “But the longer Kyoko-san stays in this house with only her housekeeper and male students, that wouldn’t be proper. It could cause her further anguish.”

Koshijiro wrestled with the conflicting choices, before he stopped himself. He was considering what to do when he hadn’t even spoken to Kyoko yet. And the decision was rightfully hers. He stood. “Thank you, Kikuhara-kun, Hayashi-kun.” He heard them laughing as he walked away, to meet Kyoko.

She wasn’t in her room, the dining room, or the kitchen. He peeked into the courtyard, and there she was, looking contemplative by the jasmine. She was spinning a fallen blossom between her fingertips. They exchanged pleasantries, before he conveyed his promotion.

She breached the question. “Will you be leaving soon?”

“I have to.” He paused, steadying himself.

However, Kyoko spoke first. “I was going to announce it at dinner, but I was too nervous. I’ll tell you now. I made a deal with my relative to sell the estate and the dojo. It’s better for another teacher to use the latter, and he could have the rooms for his family.”

He blinked in surprise. “What about you? Where will you go?”

“I plan to help my cousin with her family. It took some convincing.” She rubbed her swollen knuckles. “I don’t want to be a burden; I could earn my keep.”

“Is that your only option?”

“Join a sisterhood of nuns?” She wryly smiled before ducking her head. “What I really want probably won’t happen.”

“Could you tell me? I won’t laugh.”

After a few seconds, she murmured. “A house filled with love.”

“Wherever you are, it will happen.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because you are easy to love.” At that, she looked up at him, surprised and hopeful. He took a deep breath, prepared to leap. “I’m not very good at this and I don’t have much to offer, but I’ll do my best to give you the happiness you deserve. Kyoko-san, do you want to see the cherry blossoms in Oyumi?”

“This year?”

“This year, and every year after.”

She drew a sharp breath in realization, and then to his surprise, she began to cry. Fat tears welled up from her gaze, brushed away by her sleeve. His stomach dropped and he felt terrible at how he must have upset her, until her hand shoved against his shoulder. “Kamiya-kun…I’ve been waiting forever to hear that!”

“So...you’re not upset?”

“Of course not!” She laughed, despite her tears. “I’ve always thought about you from the start. But you know about my health. Is it really alright if it’s me?”

“It can’t be anyone else but you.” He said honestly.

Her smile grew even wider, and then, she surprised him, with a quick peck on the lips. Her mouth was soft, and the thrill of sensation caused his face to instantly burn. Hand in hand, they returned to the house and joyously shared the news.

The Kamiya house became their new home, and they married in autumn. The wedding was a reserved affair, with only close friends in attendance. Maekawa brought his quiet new bride; Hayashi and Kikuhara insisted on arranging the food and drink. His father sent a painting of the full moon over maple branches, which Koshijiro grudgingly admitted was beautiful. Osue shed many tears, promising to help the newlyweds settle in. He remembered the firm claps on his shoulders and back, the hearty toasts to the couple. During the reception, the rest of the men kept refilling his sake cup, but he kept glancing towards Kyoko. Her white hood shone in the midst of varyingly hued kimonos. He wondered what the women were whispering to her, their voices too soft to make out. Every so often, a ripple of laughter would run through them.

Finally, he couldn’t endure the separation any longer. He went over to the group and the women quieted, as he offered his hand to Kyoko. She readily took it, and a collective cheer ushered them out. Koshijiro was embarrassed, and he did his best to ignore the uproar. Glancing at Kyoko, he noticed her blush had deepened as well.

“Let’s sit outside for a while.” He suggested, and she quickly agreed.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

He strode past the futon in their room, instead opening the sliding door to the porch. Kyoko removed her hood and the pins in her hair before joining him. The muffled noise of their wedding party broke the relative silence.

“It’s been a long day.” Koshijiro attempted to make conversation.

“It has.” She smiled. “Unforgettable too. I’m happy to be your wife.”

His chest squeezed, and the feeling was sweet. “And I’m honored to be your husband.” They sat on the porch in content silence, watching the red leaves fall.

They settled into a new routine, learning to live together. True to her word, Osue stayed to assist Kyoko, who was appreciative of the aid and the comfort of her company. The elderly woman also ensured the quality of Koshijiro’s household tasks. Kyoko had tried to stop him from washing dishes, but he insisted that it was only fair because she cooked most of the time. They walked to the marketplace together, with a parasol to shield her from the sun, and blissfully conversed about mundane details. He instructed at the Motomiya Shin branch, and from teaching and police work, he was able to build a little bathhouse for her. In return, she showed him a book, most of the pages empty. Towards the beginning, she had written what he’d told her of his past, and was starting on her own. It was their story, and the last half would be saved for their life together.

After a year, they decided to try for a child. However, by their third year of marriage, there was no luck. They heard suggestions ranging from drinking fertility concoctions to making offerings to the temple to divorce. Koshijiro blew up at the doctor who suggested the last, that if he had nothing useful to offer, he should have stayed silent, and that he was lower than a ronin, who at least retained some loyalty. He remembered towering over the man, the heat in his own face, and how raw his throat felt. Kyoko had grabbed his arm, tugging him out of the clinic and imploring him to stop.

When his breathing evened, he found a worried Kyoko sitting across from him. She placed a cup of water in his hands, which he immediately drained, and she waited for him to speak first.

“I have a temper. I knew it was wrong to yell, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Any wife would be happy that her husband defends her, but you did scare me. If we had a child, would you ever yell like that?”

He flinched, as if he had been struck. “I would never! You know what happened to me when I was a child.”

“I didn’t mean you would do it on purpose.” She quickly said. “But I’ve never seen you like that before. You looked so furious, not like the man I know. I want to have your child, I really do. But if the gods do not intend that for us, we can follow the Maekawas’ example.”

“I don’t expect any distant Kamiya relative to offer any child to us.” The words were bitter, despite himself.

“Then, we can ask someone else. Even if we only have students, we can treat them like our own.”

She was right. He reached over the table and clasped her hand. Meeting her gaze, he apologized. “I’m sorry I scared you. It won’t happen again; I swear on my life. Can you forgive me?”

She smiled, and she was beautiful. “I forgive you.”

Their relationship was all the stronger, and around their fourth anniversary, Kyoko quietly told him that she had missed her bleeding. He had immediately embraced her, both breathless with anticipation.

Kyoko spoke first. “It’s still early. Fertile women usually have fertile daughters. The opposite could be true, in my case. But I’m hoping. I hope this is a child that will live.”

He lifted one hand to cup her cheek. He could see the veins under her skin, the blue lines stark, and he held her a little tighter.

Upon hearing the news, Osue excitedly doled out advice on how to care for a newborn, and it was enough that Koshijiro transcribed her words, for fear that he’d miss something important. His days were spent teaching, but once the dojo was closed, all of his attention belonged to Kyoko. She sewed tiny garments for the baby and at night, she read aloud folk tales. The brave samurai’s daughter, the boy born from a peach, a mischievous tanuki. “The baby calms down when I read.” She admitted with a laugh. She had felt the little one stirring, and though she found the sensation peculiar, she was delighted that it was so energetic.

Koshijiro listened along, the stress and worry melting with his wife’s performance of each story. He kept an arm around her shoulders and a blanket in her lap to keep her and the baby warm. As he adjusted the blanket one night, his hand brushed against her round belly and the response was a distinct light pressure.

“I can feel it.” He said aloud, surprised.

“You can? That’s wonderful!” Kyoko beamed and caressed the area, searching. “Come back, Otou-san would like-ouch. That wasn’t nice, was it? The little one just kicked my insides.”

“Is that so?” He hesitated before lowering his voice. “Behave. Your mother needs her rest.”

After a minute, she nodded. “It’s a good child, it listened to you.”

“Ah, well. If it’s your child, it will naturally be good.” He was flustered but pleased, and so was Kyoko.

Later, under the cherry blossoms, she brought up the subject of names. “I like Kaoru. Kamiya Kaoru works for a boy or a girl.”

“Written as fragrance?”

“Yes. Fragrance lingers in your memory; our child should be someone who won’t be easily forgotten. What do you think?”

“Your interpretation is elegant and it’s a beautiful name.” He approved. “And you chose an appropriate time too.”

“Well, I’m following your lead. Didn’t you ask me to see the cherry blossoms with you every year?” She laughed at his reddening face, and her expression was satisfied as she leaned into him. “Kaoru will be here next spring to see them with us.”

“Indeed.” He hoped with fervor that such a prediction would come true. He had refrained from writing to his father about the child, wanting to wait until its safe entrance into the world.

It was almost midsummer when the fated day arrived. Kyoko’s ankles had swelled and she had noticed the baby’s movements slowing. They were expecting the baby at any moment, yet it was still a surprise.

He usually rose at dawn, but as he was about to leave their futon, Kyoko grabbed his wrist. “It’s starting to hurt.”

Koshijiro was now fully awake. “I’ll get the midwife. Will you be alright?”

“I will. Hurry!” Her eyes squeezed shut at the last syllable, in a spasm of pain.

He did, running at full speed to the midwife and her assistants. They mobilized as soon as they crossed the threshold, taking over the kitchen to boil water and rushing in and out of the bedroom with fresh cloths. Koshijiro remained at his wife’s side until he was explicitly told to leave. Even then, he was reluctant. She’d been gripping his shoulder through the contractions, and the current pause would not last. When Kyoko released him, he met her gaze.

“Kyoko…”

She cupped the base of his skull, and pressed her forehead to his. “I don’t want you to see me weak. Not more than I usually am. I remember what Osue said about labor, and I’m ready. I’m this child’s mother. And you are the father, so please wait a little longer and we’ll greet you soon.”

“If you need me, only call out and I’ll be here.” He didn’t know what to say. “If I could transfer even a handful of strength to you, I would.”

“You already have. You’re always here.” She moved her hand to her heart and gave a brave smile. He did his best to mirror her, to convey he thought the same about her.

Never taking his eyes off her, he made his retreat. He would respect her wish and that kept him moving. He had to believe in the preparation over the past months and the team with her now.

Gods, what if this was the last time he would see Kyoko alive?

In a moment of desperation, he tried to reach out to her, but then, the midwife pushed him out and the door prevented his entry. He stood in the hallway, paralyzed, before he could no longer bear being helpless and decided to do anything and everything useful.

He chopped firewood, washed the dishes, and swept the yard. He beat the laundry on the clothesline, he scrubbed the bathhouse and dojo until the floorboards squeaked. He even found an old piece of fabric to sew in half, undoing the messy stitches and practicing again. After poking himself with the needle too many times, he resorted to a half-hearted meditation. The relentless sun was nearing its summit. He couldn’t hear anything. Was Kyoko alright? Was there any trouble with the baby?

The back of his neck prickled. There was a resounding, piercing wail.

He rushed inside. “Kyoko?!” He was a few paces away from the bedroom before he nearly collided into the midwife, who grabbed his arms and stopped him. “Was that her?”

“No, no, Kamiya-san. We’ve finished cleaning up, your wife needs to rest. She hasn’t lost too much blood, but that wasn’t her, her strength hasn’t returned yet. What you heard was the baby.” The ongoing sound faltered in intensity, there was a presumable break for air and then-

“Let him in, please.” Kyoko’s weak voice was the only permission he needed and he stepped within their room. It was insanely hot, the heat and crying nearly bowling him over. Surrounded by pillows, Kyoko was plastered with sweat, her loose hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks. Her breathing was heavy and labored, but she held a swaddled bundle close to her breast.

“Kyoko, how are you?” He knelt next to his wife, wiping away a drenched lock from her eyes.

“I feel so tired. So tired, but it was all worth it. For our girl.” She wept, but she wasn’t disappointed at all. Through her tears, she smiled. “Look, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And she really was. Kyoko handed the baby to him, and he had his first look at his daughter. She was screaming, bright red and damp from her ordeal. Her little face was soft to the touch, her dark hair sticking up in all directions. Koshijiro caught one of her flailing fists, marveling at how tiny her fingernails were. Her eyes narrowed at him, exactly as Kyoko’s did, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Good morning, Kaoru.”

Chapter Text

When he emerged from Commissioner Kawaji’s office, Koshijiro let exhaustion take over. He had stayed awake two hours past midnight to finalize his evacuation plan, and the entire morning had already flown by due to the commissioner grilling him on the details. He had fended off the questions with varying degrees of success, until he was dismissed with a scowl.

He returned to his desk, settled in his chair, and closed his eyes. Just for a minute…

“Officer Kamiya, we received a message requesting backup.” Shinichi nervously interrupted his rest.

He shook off the lethargy, to see the rookie. Occasionally, the young officers were called on for assistance, and Koshijiro had to accompany them as their direct superior. “Please tell me the details on the way there. Let’s head over.”

There was a clash at the fish market, reportedly between two rival gangs. The details of the feud were unknown, but both sides were agitated and aggressive. Shouts and crashes could be heard from a block away. As Koshijiro and the others approached, the noise intensified. The scene was chaotic. Men were exchanging blows and throwing various items at each other. Bloodied faces drifted in and out among the mob, along with the uniforms of officers. The rookies immediately launched themselves into the fray, disappearing in a matter of moments.

A flash of red barreled towards Koshijiro’s right, and he instinctively caught…an octopus. His arm held the creature to his chest, and its tentacles curled around his sleeve and towards his neck. Gingerly, he set it in a nearby bucket of water, and it wriggled in relief. Now that he looked closer, some of the thrown items were raw seafood.

But not all.

A sword swung towards Koshijiro, the rusty edge aiming for his temple, and he ducked. His right hand fell to his bokken, as he analyzed his opponent. A shorter, stockier man with a gap-toothed grin and a death wish, apparently. Koshijiro drew his bokken, moving into a defensive position.

It wasn’t difficult to read his movements, and when the man attempted an overhead swing, Koshijro blocked. The force was intense, and he had to widen his stance. However, that set him up perfectly for the next move. With an inhale, he pushed back, lifting his back foot off the ground to hook around the man’s knee. The man gave a startled exclamation as his feet turned inward, and Koshijiro disengaged. His opponent threatened to fall forward and that left him open for a strike at the sensitive point behind the elbow. The man’s grip spasmed, but even if he could somehow shake off the numbness, Koshijiro was already following through with another blow to the back of the head. Koshijiro watched him go down, and the immediate handcuffing by Officer Abe, who was on standby.

“Whoa, Kamiya-san, that was awesome!”

“Well, I’m glad it worked. I’ve been thinking over this maneuver for some time.” He was rather proud of his success, and confidently, he moved on.

In total, fifty people were arrested, jailed, and scheduled for questioning. He had volunteered for the last shift of interrogation and didn’t return home until past midnight. Koshijiro prepared for bed, and every movement was abnormally loud. Once he had closed his eyes, his ears rang from the eerie silence.

How long had it been since they were gone? June was already coming to a close. Kaoru’s birthday was at the end of the week and he was in Satsuma for her last one. Their usual celebration was a nice dinner, but he felt like this one should be grander, to make amends. He would have to think of something soon…as a testament to how tired he was, he fell asleep mid-thought.

When he woke, he scrambled for the time and realized he was running late. The train would arrive soon, and he had promised to be at the station. He skipped breakfast and broke into a sprint as he drew closer, but he made it to his destination. Tokio rose from a bench, lifting her little son.

“Kamiya-san, thank you for being here. Are you alright?”

He took a moment to catch his breath. “Yes, I’m fine. I see the train’s here?” The locomotive seemed to be giving a long exhale, the turning of the wheels slowing with each cycle.

“Yes, but they must be checking the passengers before they let them out.” She adjusted her hold on Tsutomu, his sleeping face squished against her collar.

They watched the disembarking people and scanned the faces for a boy of the right description. Finally, he stepped out. He was about ten or eleven, and his hair was mussed from sleeping at an odd angle. Noticing their gazes, he cautiously approached, looking up at Tokio.

“Are you Fujita-san?”

“I am and this is my son, Tsutomu. Kamiya-san is my husband’s colleague.”

Koshijiro nodded in greeting. “It’s good to meet you. How was your journey?”

“Long. It wasn’t too bad until the train.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wanted to go on foot like Kenshin did, the train is too noisy.”

“You met Himura-san?”

“Yeah. He really helped me out in my village.” He became quiet, obviously remembering. “He did say, ‘Kamiya-dono will be in Tokyo, so there is no need to worry.’”

Koshijiro coughed to conceal his embarrassment. “I see. Well, I heard he made it to his destination, so there’s no need to worry about him either.”

Tokio knelt to meet Eiji at eye level. “My husband informed me that you lost your parents and brother. I’m so sorry.”

“Kenshin helped me.” Eiji stared at his feet. “He said the dead only want the living to be happy.”

“He wasn’t wrong.” Koshijiro quietly said. “Your family would want that for you.”

They walked out, and Tokio intended to treat Eiji to a well-deserved meal. She extended the invitation to Koshijiro but he had to decline. “Some other time. I’ll stop by now and then, to check in. If there’s anything you need, you can always visit the Kamiya dojo.”

On his way back, he passed a flower seller, hawking baskets teeming with small pink and white deutzia. They greatly resembled cherry blossoms and he remembered they were gone by August. He turned around and paid for one bouquet, mentally mapping out the detour to the cemetery.

Kyoko will surely love these flowers.

Everything about Kaoru was utterly charming. Her little yawns, the way she stretched her whole body when she woke, the downy hair capping her head, her plush grip gently enclosing his thumb. She was an energetic baby, working her fingers and flailing her limbs as if testing them out. She was more than Koshijiro and Kyoko could have asked for.

She grew quickly, and Koshijiro was loath to miss a moment. He couldn’t help but feel a little envious of Kyoko and Osue-san, who visited thrice a week to help out. The majority of his day was spent working, so when he returned home at Kaoru’s early bedtime, Kyoko encouraged him to rock their daughter to sleep. She reassured otherwise but he had felt awkward in the early days, too large and clumsy for his tiny girl. As he strolled through the house, Kaoru’s round eyes intently focused on his face before she slowly nodded off.

When she was a few months old, Koshijiro noticed a bright blue ribbon tied around her head. “Hm? What’s this?’ He asked Kyoko.

“I noticed she has a bald spot, so I thought to cover it with the ribbon.” Meanwhile, Kaoru didn’t seem to mind, happily rolling onto her belly and offering Koshijiro a smile.

He sat beside her and one pudgy hand touched his knee before she tried to lift her upper body. Her feet pushed against the tatami but she didn’t budge. As she struggled to move to his lap, her barely visible eyebrows drew together and she made a loud noise of frustration. Amused, he picked her up by the armpits and remarked. “It’s a little early for you to crawl, Kaoru, but it’s good that you’re eager.”

“She’ll be crawling soon.” Kyoko joined them, adjusting the blue ribbon so it was more secure. “And then, she’ll walk and run.”

“Not too fast for us, I hope.”

But for now, Kaoru was still small enough to hold. While their little home was cozy and quiet, it was not as peaceful outside. The disasters of the Ansei era had accumulated in the past two years: cholera raging through Edo, an earthquake in Hida, an assassination near the Sakurada gate. A treaty with the Americans had been signed, resulting in widespread discontent. With the ports open to trade, the markets and routes changed. Inflation drove costs up, as foreigners bought gold. The shogunate was proving to be increasingly unequipped to handle current issues.

Meanwhile, Koshijiro continued to teach kenjutsu. His students were eager to use real blades and threatened to leave if they couldn’t. He did his best to ensure everyone was safe, but he only had one pair of eyes. There were several close calls. After a particularly nasty duel between two students, he sent a doctor for their injuries and ended class early. When everyone had left, he sat on the freshly cleaned dojo floor, rubbing his forehead. The students were eager to fight and yes, they needed to know how to protect themselves, but was he enabling them? What would his predecessors think of him?

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He turned to see Kyoko, holding their baby daughter and beaming at him. “It’s Otou-san, Kaoru. Otou-san.”

Kaoru gave a delighted cry, waving her fist. How could he possibly be despondent?

Kyoko handed her off, and the baby’s soft cheek grazed his. She nuzzled, turning her face against his shoulder, and he held her tighter. Meeting his wife’s tender gaze, he smiled. “Thank you.”

Once Kaoru could toddle about, there was no stopping her, and she took obvious joy in being followed. Her wide smile over her shoulder was a precious thing to behold. When she’d fall, her tears weren’t out of pain but desire for comfort, for she quickly stopped once she was held. Soon enough, even those subsided, and she’d resume walking as if nothing happened.

After one such occurrence, Kyoko began to laugh. “Her face looks just like yours! So determined!”

“If that’s so, then she certainly takes after you too.” But he laughed as well.

It was during those blissful days that his father returned. He had sent a letter in advance, explaining he no longer had work in Kunitake’s area and would be transferring back home. Koshijiro personally suspected they had a falling-out but kept his reply succinct and inviting. Otou-san arrived with the summer heat, and Koshijiro stepped away from the dojo to greet him with a bow.

“Welcome back.”

“Koshijiro, it’s good to be home.” His father smiled. He was noticeably thinner, the lines on his face deeper. “Oh? Is that Kaoru-chan?”

He glanced towards the porch, to see his daughter staring at them, before she unsteadily ran into the house. “Oka! Oka!”

“Calling for her mother?” Otou-san’s tone was both amused and wistful.

“Her first word as well. Please, come in.” As he offered, he took his father’s satchel. It was surprisingly light. Had Otou-san sold his belongings…or was he kicked out?

Kyoko appeared, Kaoru clinging to her leg. “Welcome! Are you hungry at all? We can have lunch early.”

They settled him in, and the tension seemed to leave his frame. He was in his early sixties, Koshijiro thought, but his age had never shown until now. He moved slower, he slept heavier and longer, and he was not as boisterous as before. Worried, Koshijiro sent for one of Kyoko’s doctors. For the most part, Otou-san’s health was fair, but his heart was weak and they would have to keep an eye on him. Plenty of rest and a daily routine would help, and they did their best to make him comfortable. Otou-san dove into his art with full force, and more often than not, he could be found painting in the yard. He happily gave Kaoru any paper and ink she wanted to draw with, and allowed her to drum her fists against his back in a makeshift massage. He also got along well with Kyoko, who effortlessly charmed everyone in her orbit anyway. Most of his father’s paintings were sold, but if Kyoko expressed a liking for one, he would set it aside for safekeeping.

“Aha! I see the pattern now.” Otou-san clapped his hands together, after a brief survey of Kyoko’s choices. “You have a keen eye for the seasons. Spring, summer, autumn, winter.”

“Of course, and you depict them so well, Otou-sama. But do you have any preferences on what you paint?”

“Not particularly, though it’s better if everything I see remains still while I’m working.” He joked. “But that’s hardly ever the case. Such is life.” And to prove his point, Kaoru hurtled past him, running at full speed to escape a harried Osue, who was attempting to wash her face.

A few months later, they celebrated Kaoru turning three. The zori only lasted a few steps before she kicked them off with obvious relief and to Osue-san’s chagrin. Her pudgy hands held a long stick of chitose ame, which she eagerly crammed into her mouth.

“Yes, live a long, happy life, Kaoru.” Kyoko murmured. Her fatigue had been worse as of late, and she rested against Koshijiro’s shoulder.

When Kaoru dozed off too, worn out by the day’s activities, Koshijiro held her in his lap. Glancing about to make sure no one else was looking, he pressed a kiss on both of their cheeks, his wife’s cool one and his daughter’s slightly sticky one.

Now that she was old enough, Koshijiro had crafted a bokken to match Kaoru’s size, and she would follow along with morning stretches. Anything more would be too advanced, and she usually fussed when Kyoko had to pull her away. Eventually, Koshijiro noticed perforations in the rice paper, at about the eye level of a little girl. It then became a matter of catching her in the act. He listened carefully for a tiny pop, and after a moment, opened the door to find her staring up at him.

“Kaoru, did you do this?”

“No!” But she sucked in a breath and turned to run away. Koshijiro easily stepped around her.

“I’m going to ask again. Did you poke holes in the doors?”

She squirmed, her mouth petulantly twisting. “…it’s fun.”

“But it isn’t very nice. It worries me and your mother when we have to fix them. And we don’t like being mad at you. Can you be good and promise you’ll stop?” He extended his pinky finger towards her.

“Hmph.” She pouted but she linked her tiny finger with his and they shook on it.

“That’s a promise.”

Her voice was small and uncertain when she asked. “Do you hate me?”

“No, of course not. I never could, and Okaa-san feels the same way.” As the words left him, he suddenly remembered his own childhood voice, declaring that he would never be anything like his father. Gods, he must have caused Otou-san a great deal of pain and he’d never realized until now.

When he spoke with Kyoko, she insisted that they have a conversation. “You need to talk with him alone. There’s still time to make things right between you. As long as you’re alive, you can have another chance.”

He decided to do so, one morning. Otou-san was in his usual spot in the yard, trying to capture the autumn scenery with his paints. He shuffled towards the porch, spared a glance at Kyoko. She narrowed her eyes at his stalling, and urged him to keep moving with quick waves of her hand. Suppressing a sigh, he moved to stand by his father.

“That looks lovely.” He lamely nodded at the painting. What was he doing?

His father laughed. “Thank you. I know you’re not as passionate as I am about this, but I appreciate it. Is something on your mind?”

“I spoke to Kaoru about the holes in the door, and she reminded me of the past.” He slowly said. “I remember some of the unkind words I dealt to you when I was a child, and I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. As you said, you were a child and our situation was…unexpectedly complicated. But I never blamed you or your mother.” He set his brush down, resting it on a small ceramic dish with murky water. “I think if Miyo had been with us, like when you were younger, it might be easier to talk with each other. Maybe, she’d still be with us.”

The wind swept through, and a lull fell over them. Koshijiro cleared his throat, swallowing the sudden lump there. “Kyoko says people live on in the stories we tell.”

“She’s right.” He paused. “I never told you how I met your mother.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, it wasn’t romantic. I fell asleep by the river, while sketching. I only meant to have a nap, but when I woke up, it was morning and Miyo was standing over me. Then, I kept seeing her all the time, while I was in town. Our paths crossed frequently after that. I was happy whenever I saw her, and disappointed when I didn’t. When I found that she was looking for work, I hired her. And after that, I only fell deeper. I was sure…that we could live happily together. But Otsuna and Kunitake were jealous. I knew they were, but I raised them like my own after my cousin and wife died. I did my best, trying not to choose. Miyo never told me she was pregnant with you, and when I met you, you were almost a year old. But I couldn’t let you either of you go again. You probably don’t remember much, but despite the circumstances at the time, the famine and uncertainty, those were some of the happiest days of my life.”

Something gave in his chest at his father’s words and sober expression. Otou-san was not perfect by any means, far from it, and yet…he was only human in the end. “That time is vague in my memories but I was happy too.”

“I am sorry though. I never meant for you to be hurt by your siblings, and I did speak to them multiple times. Their harassment is a failure on my part. I don’t know where I went wrong, but please believe that I never encouraged their behavior.”

“I believe you and that it’s not entirely your fault.” He assured. “There comes a point when immaturity is no longer an excuse and I doubt they ever found it. Years ago, I would have thought it difficult to uproot the resentment I have. But I can now. I do forgive you and I think I understand you a little better now. Even more so because I have Kyoko and Kaoru.”

Otou-san looked as if he was about to cry, and he was at a loss for what to do. Almost as if on cue, the door opened to signal someone was on the porch. Kaoru darted towards them, with a wide smile. “Jii-jii!” She twirled in place, her little ponytail flying. “This new ribbon is pretty, right?”

His father nodded, voice light. “Of course! It’s the same color as a rose. And you’re pretty from head to toe. And what does your Otou-san think?”

They both turned to him, and Koshijiro cleared his throat. “Yes, Kaoru, it’s very nice. Did Okaa-san buy it for you?”

“Uh-huh. We match now! Tou-san, come see.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards the house amidst his father’s laughter. Kyoko had tied her own rose-colored ribbon in her bun, and she lifted her head from her sewing with a smile when they rejoined her at the table.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“You’re welcome. How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“Then, that’s good.” Their private conversation was interrupted by Kaoru, wondering where one of her books was.

In the evenings, Kyoko read aloud to Kaoru, who had claimed a spot to nestle between them in their futon. Koshijiro was embarrassed whenever he fell asleep to his wife’s voice, but those were rare, since Kaoru would poke his side and ask if he wanted to read next. She would try to turn the pages for him, intent on helping move their nightly story forward. She already knew a few kanji, including her name, and Koshijiro was very proud.

There was one issue that arose. One of the new books Kaoru liked was about a family, which had multiple children. The youngest was a newborn girl, and Kaoru seemed fascinated, her fingers lingering on the baby’s descriptions. Once Kyoko ended the tale, the inevitable question came.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes?”

“Where do babies come from?”

“Hmm.” Kyoko pretended to ponder over the matter. “Well, they appear when an Okaa-san and an Otou-san wish very hard.”

“Oh. So I will wish.”

“Wish for what, Kaoru?”

“A little sister!”

“That’s such a nice wish.” Kyoko mildly replied. “Now, let’s go to sleep.”

Koshijiro fervently hoped that would be the end, but as the seasons changed, Kaoru was still loudly expressing her desire for a younger sister. It became a daily inquiry, and at last, Koshijiro decided to gently break the news to her, before going to bed.

“Perhaps, you should think of a new wish. A little sister probably isn’t on its way.”

“Why not?” She demanded.

“W-well…” He stammered, thrown off guard. “It takes two people to make that kind of a request?” Kyoko immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes shut and shoulders trembling with concealed laughter. “Two adults, like me and your mother.”

“Tou-san, then wish with Kaa-san.”

What had he done to deserve this conversation? “But when a baby comes, you can’t exchange it, even if it’s a boy.”

“A little brother would be okay too, like Hitomi-chan’s.” Kaoru conceded, referring to one of her older playmates.

Thankfully, Kyoko took over, still smiling from the aftershocks. “Kaoru, we waited a very long time for you. We wished and prayed and nearly gave up. I don’t know if we can be that lucky a second time. But if you’re feeling lonely, let’s invite Hitomi-chan and your other friends over more often. And there are other children who live nearby too. Maybe, there will be someone who would like a big sister. What do you think?”

“…alright.” Over her head, Kyoko and Koshijiro exchanged relieved glances.

Emperor Meiji ascended to the throne, and a power struggle with the shogunate seemed imminent. Nothing in the news was particularly uplifting, a prelude to the certain turmoil.

One wintry morning, he passed by Otou-san’s room and stopped. The door was wide open, though without signs of a struggle. In the front, his father’s shoes were missing, and a quick scan confirmed that the yard was empty. A sense of foreboding overcame him. He walked past the gate, looking down the road to find a set of shallow footprints. They led to a large tree, shielding any snow from covering Otou-san’s sitting form. As he approached, the foreboding grew stronger, and it was only confirmed when he gently placed his palm upon his father’s shoulder. There was no heat at all. Otou-san’s face was perfectly tranquil, his final moments of acceptance, and Koshijiro bowed his head.

“Thank you, and goodbye. I’ll take you to Okaa-san now.”

The funeral was surprisingly crowded, with many people offering to pay their respects. It was clear that Otou-san had been respected and loved, by not only his colleagues but also the neighborhood and his fellow artists. Noticeably, there were two figures who never showed, but Koshijiro did not mind. It was best that his wife and daughter wouldn’t meet his siblings. Preferably never at all. Otou-san’s ashes were laid to rest beside the simple grave of the woman he loved, and Koshijiro blinked back sudden tears at the sight of his parents, reunited in death.

Kyoko’s familiar hand slipped into his. “It’s alright. You can cry, if you need to.” She gently said.

“Forgive me, Kyoko. I don’t know why-” He broke off, his voice shaky. He didn’t know why his composure was crumbling at this moment, when he had handled the funeral arrangements so steadily.

“Shh. I’m here, and so is Kaoru. We’re here.” Her gaze shone with her own tears, and Kaoru clung to Koshijiro’s other side, brows drawn together. They remained in a close huddle, all the way home. The house was quieter, and sometimes, there’d be an extra bowl set out by accident, but like years ago, the grief was easier to bear with time.

That spring, he was on midnight patrol, lantern in hand. A distant clamor rerouted him, and he kept one hand on the hilt of his katana as he hurried towards the shouts. A couple of shadows were already fleeing, leaving four bodies. One emitted a weak rattling cough. He drew closer and the lantern’s glow illuminated the man’s bloody face. “Hayashi?!” He checked for a pulse on his friend’s slick neck. Rapid, but present. He stabilized Hayashi, just as his colleagues rushed over.

The story was that it had been a group of ruffians, looking for anyone to rob in this economic crisis. Hayashi did survive, though at the cost of a maimed right leg. He was despondent; such an injury meant an end to kenjutsu and his service to his lord. “I’ll be thrown away, who wants a cripple for protection?”

“Don’t say that,” Koshijiro tried to persuade him. “Focus on getting better first, before returning to work.”

“As if. Just leave me to die and go back to your own dojo.” Hayashi snarled. That only served to steel Koshijiro. He wrote to Maekawa and Kikuhara, requesting their assistance, and continued to visit with food and water.

Maekawa was there within the week, and spoke nothing of kenjutsu, just boisterously singing as he cleaned Hayashi’s row house. Kikuhara was unable to do anything in person, but he sent packages of books, paintings, and other things to pass the time with. At first, Hayashi shouted at them, to the point where he wore himself out. They took meals at his bedside if he wouldn’t move and changed his dressings, and although Maekawa was skeptical that they were helping at all, Koshijiro insisted they were. Hayashi’s strength was slow to build, given his initial resistance, but he left his bed in order for them to stop nagging, as he put it, and scowled as he ate. He no longer raised his voice or spoke of dying. Despite his perpetual bitter mood, it was progress.

Koshijiro believed they were going to finally get him out of the house, only to find that the door chained in place. Hayashi had left a folded note in one of the edges. Thank you for staying with me, but I need to find my own way in life again.

A search resulted in nothing. Maekawa expressed his characteristic confidence that Hayashi would be fine, wherever he ended up, and Koshijiro reluctantly accepted that he had to trust his friend would continue to live on.

His dojo was faring well; there were many who were eager to learn how to fight or have their sons learn. At seven, Kaoru relished helping out, and he tended to ask for her to demonstrate, especially for the newcomers. She was as old as he was, when he first started learning, and with her head start, she was very good at kenjutsu and knew it. She loved being in the dojo, and although Koshijiro was proud of her enthusiasm, she did fight with some of the boys who were prejudiced towards a female classmate and mistakenly believed she was weaker. More than once, he had to break up a tussle. Punishment was dealt equally too, he didn’t want to favor his daughter and he could handle her grumpiness afterward. If she wanted to spar those boys in a designated match, however, he never objected.

Kyoko was much more apprehensive. “I’m not saying she can’t be in the dojo. I don’t want to confine her; I want her to enjoy life.” She was very firm about that sentiment, given her upbringing. “But I’m worried she’ll be hurt. It’s different for women. Men are allowed to bear scars with pride, whereas we’re expected to hide them.”

“I understand, but she’s growing up and she knows how to pick herself up when she falls. Kaoru’s resilient, like you.”

“That’s kind of you to say, dear.” It was an evasive reply. She still wasn’t mollified and fretted over Kaoru’s bruises and scrapes. Kaoru complained about the thick ointments, that most of her injuries were accidents and in the increasingly rarer fights, the dumb boys kind of deserved it. Koshijiro silently agreed with the latter point, as he bandaged his daughter up.

The majority of his students were now outside the samurai class, and somehow, word must have spread because he had a spectator who lingered after one class.

“Are you interested in joining?” Koshijiro inquired.

“It would be an honor but no. I am here as a representative of Omura.” The man smiled. “Have you heard of him?”

“Omura Masujiro? The Choshu strategist?”

“Yes, I’m glad you recognized him. But are you aware of the cause he fights for?”

“It seems you’ll tell me regardless.”

There was the usual talk about sonno joi, or the expulsion of foreigners. But one thing caught Koshijiro’s attention. “The samurai class has abused their power and wealth for far too long. What we want is to remind them that at their core, they are no better than anyone else. To level the field, so to speak, and put an end to the four class system. Think about it, and we’ll be in town.” He provided the name of an inn they frequented and departed.

The conversation kept surfacing in Koshijiro’s thoughts. He did not believe that foreign influence was totally beneficial. The consequences of famine, economic turmoil, and disease were too severe to be ignored. Hayashi was one of many who had suffered from the growing unrest among the people. But it was too late to close the borders again. The military was already incorporating Western technology, and Choshu was offering military training to commoners. Omura’s follower spoke of humbling the samurai. Abolishing the class structure…he could accept that idea. Takaoka was supporting Satsuma and Choshu, the leaders of the rebellion. They were gathering anyone who was willing to go to Kyoto and assist in the fight to end the shogunate. A number of samurai from Oyumi were going, including Koshijiro’s direct superior, but before he could leave, he had to speak to Kyoko and Kaoru.

Kyoko responded first. “Of course, I want you to stay and be safe. If you leave, you might never return. But…” She stared at her own hands, wrapped around her teacup. A few wisps of hair escaped from behind her ear, and he reached over to tuck them back. “You feel very strongly about this.” With an inhale, she firmly straightened and met his gaze. “Promise us you’ll survive.”

“I promise. Will you and Kaoru be alright?”

Their daughter hadn’t said anything yet, her eyes wide as she looked at them. Kyoko reached for her hands, drawing her closer.

“Kaoru and I will be fine. I’m certain we won’t be the only women left behind either. We’ll manage and welcome you home when you return.”

“We’ll be here, Otou-san, don’t worry about us.” Kaoru’s voice was subdued, but she attempted a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be home again before you know.”

He had been very naïve.

His first experience with war could never be forgotten. From the march on foot to the first battle cry in earshot, it all stayed with him. Most of the early days blurred together, leaving the impression of sore feet and shoulders. But when they reached Kyoto, the adrenaline surged within him and his fingers shook as he loaded his gun.

One moment, it was quiet. The next, commands were shouted down the line, and then, there was cracking gunfire and smoke. The soldier next to him was struck by a bullet. The man in front was cut down, blood seeping through his uniform. Behind him, an enemy cannonball landed on people he couldn’t name but their screams of agony echoed forever.

It was madness. Every day was a fresh ordeal.

The first time he killed a man, it was with his sword. It had been a long day, and his opponent was too slow for one moment. That was all it took, Koshijiro’s blade sinking deeper than either of them expected. The man’s features slackened, and Koshijiro knew he was already gone. The body twitched several times, before finally falling as the sword was removed. Koshijiro’s feet were planted to the ground, which was gradually darkening in color.

I’m sorry.

The words died on his tongue, as a bullet flew past, the sound deafening and reminding him that to stay still in battle meant death. He couldn’t linger, he had to keep moving. He had promised Kyoko and Kaoru he would come home to them, and that became his anchor on the battlefield. Even if doing so meant that he had to feel hollow for all of the rest.

“Otou-san? Otou-san?”

Koshijiro jolted. Kaoru was standing before him. When had she approached? He hadn’t noticed.

She beamed at him. “We’re having lunch now.” The sunlit yard stretched behind her, and he gripped the edges of the porch.

He had been home for a week, yet nothing felt real. He should be happy, he was alive and not in bad shape. Many men had not returned at all. But he felt like part of him had been left behind on the battlefield, drifting aimlessly and pulling the rest of him with it until a loud noise startled him and then he was on edge. It wore him out; he was constantly tired, despite waking well after sunrise. And there were the nightmares. He didn’t feel right.

Things had changed in Chiba too. Osue had succumbed to pneumonia in his absence, and he had already paid numb respects to the faithful old woman. Kyoko was understandably melancholy, not helped at all by how her illness had taken a turn. She was on bedrest, and her medicines had increased in quantity. Neither of them were sure how well they were working.

“We met a woman who teaches kenjutsu.”

“You did?”

“Her name is Chiba-san, as in the Chiba clan. Kaoru and I were buying groceries, and she was in her uniform. She was kind enough to invite us to her afternoon lesson. Kaoru really enjoyed it, so I feel more at ease.”

“Then, you can attend her lessons more often. It would be good for Kaoru.” He hadn’t been teaching, he wasn’t ready. Kyoko understood, but Kaoru clearly missed it. Even though she liked Chiba-san’s lessons, he overheard the two of them talking, while they thought he was having a nap.

“Is Otou-san going to be okay?”

“I don’t know yet, Kaoru.”

“He doesn’t talk about the war. It must have been scary.”

“It would be better not to ask. There are some things your father can’t share with us, that he wants to shield us from.” Kyoko evenly said. “When it’s time, he’ll share.”

“And what if he never does?”

“Then, that’s alright. We’ll be here to support him, just like always. He’s still your Otou-san, no matter what.”

“Oh. I get it now.”

His sight flooded and he doubled over. Kyoko and her infinite patience! And his innocent daughter, whose feelings were hurt. Here he was, being pathetic. He didn’t step out to acknowledge them, but he resolved in his heart that he would try to return to normal.

He wrote a routine for himself, including meditation and what to think of to pull himself back to reality. He was out of bed before his wife and daughter, to clean the dojo and equipment, before reintroducing kenjutsu back into his life. But he couldn’t use a real blade anymore. Never again, not even to keep students. He couldn’t let go of the sword, but he could forge a new relationship with it, to protect who was important to him. He began drafting new kata, on defending and disarming. The work anchored him even further, kept him from falling too deeply into listlessness.

Kyoko and Kaoru were encouraging, every step of the way. His wife woke him from the worst nightmares, and she intuitively knew when to give him space and when to be near. She always made her presence known, never startling him. When he returned to work, his satchel hid little notes in her handwriting, heartfelt reminders that pushed back against his dark thoughts. Kaoru was determined to make him smile once a day. Her good cheer was infectious, as she took over in leading their daily stretches. Upon finding her mother’s notes, she added her own, complete with the signature she was practicing. One of her first sewing projects was a handkerchief for him, a fine dark green with three leaves, and she presented it with such pride, his weariness lifted.

It wasn’t always easy. Some days, he faltered, folded in on himself. It wasn’t until months later that he could think back and realize how low he had been. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever feel like that again, but he learned to recognize the triggers and cope.

Now that the Emperor had moved to the freshly renamed Tokyo and there was peace at last, properties were up for grabs. The more Koshijiro heard, the more he leaned into the possibility. There was excellent medical care in the capital, and plenty of work to be had. The influx of people also meant more potential students. It was a time for change, and when would another opportunity like this occur again?

The paperwork was quickly finalized and they packed their belongings. By year’s end, they were settled into their new home in Tokyo. Koshijiro had commissioned renovations and additions, and though the house was larger than needed for a family of three, he and Kyoko discussed accepting boarders to pay off the debt. But the bathhouse was worth it, to the delight of Kyoko and Kaoru, and he liked his dojo very much. The wood smelled fresh and fragrant, and he pivoted in the open space. The light poured in, washing over his face. This was his school, the one he had yearned for all these years. A school of swordsmanship that would use the blade to protect, never to kill. A school that would represent a vow for the present and a wish for the future.

Kamiya Kasshin. The living heart.

At first, he thought the Kamiya plot had moved, because there were only supposed to be three graves, for his parents and Kyoko. So the fourth had puzzled him for a moment, before he realized whose it was. Oh. Well, this was very strange, to see his own grave.

“Kenkaku Koshimichi Koki…?” He muttered. The Buddhist name he had been granted for the afterlife felt like it belonged to a different person entirely.

Fortunately, there weren’t many weeds. The ones that were present gave his right shoulder enough work. As he was finishing up, a kind couple offered to scrub down the headstones and light the incense. They made small talk, that they were newlyweds and he had married into her family. They refused any monetary payment, and with clasped hands, they were soon on their way. Alone, Koshijiro knelt.

“I’m a little early, but I thought these flowers would be nice. And sorry, that Kaoru isn’t here with me.” It would be nearly eighteen years ago, that she was born. “I’d rather celebrate her birthday when she’s home. We’ve missed out on that, the past two times.”

The wind ruffled his hair. It was getting longer, he needed a trim.

“I’ve been working on adjusting Kamiya Kasshin, for a one-handed variant. Not just for me, but for Yutaro and those in similar situations. It would also be good for anyone who’s been injured.” For that matter, injured people weren’t far from his mind. “Even though I’d like to be there, fighting with them.” He stood, brushed off his sore knees, and gave a last smile. “I’ll be back for Obon, with Kaoru and everyone else.”

After multiple appointments, Kyoko finally spoke the truth aloud. “I’m not going to live much longer, am I?”

Dr. Gensai slowly nodded. “Yes. I wish I could do something, anything.”

“You’ve done so much already, ever since we moved here last year.”

Kaoru worked her way under Kyoko’s arm, half-crawling into her lap. “Okaa-san.”

Koshijiro was barely listening, the world closing upon the clinic’s room. Nothing seemed real at that moment.

As the days passed, the neighborhood pitched in. His police colleagues covered extra shifts in his place, and their wives kept Kyoko company while he was working. He received plenty of groceries with a hand wave in regards to payment, which he never got used to. There was always something on the table for dinner. An acquaintance by some degrees, the apprentice of an artisan who had admired the work of Kamiya Keiichiro, offered to paint Kyoko’s picture, free of charge. The ink portrait was very somber, unlike his wife, but Kyoko appreciated the gesture. To Dr. Gensai and the rest of their visitors, she seemed accepting and strong.

However, when it was just the two of them, she was afraid of dying.

“I don’t want to go. I need to live, just a while longer, until Kaoru is a little older.” She sobbed, and it took all of Koshijiro’s willpower not to break down. He held her and didn’t speak, his throat burning.

Kaoru was on her best behavior, ensuring her mother was warm and had food. She braided both of their hair at night and chose Kyoko’s clothes in the morning. She read aloud, stumbling on a few unfamiliar words and making up for the little mistakes with her own interest in the novels.

Sometimes, his wife was too fatigued by the pain in her abdomen. Her hand shook when she drew her fingers through Kaoru’s ponytail. It was too easy for her to be out of breath. But she was focused on one task in particular, and he found her carefully writing when she was able.

“It’s our family book.” She showed him the familiar cover of the volume that told the stories of their pasts. She had been updating it over the years. “The next few pages are for Kaoru, for when she’s a young woman. I’ve already written your pages, for when you feel troubled.”

“Kyoko…”

“I only want you to be well. And I’m sorry.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes and gave a short laugh. “Oh no, not again.”

“No, Kyoko, don’t apologize.” He drew her trembling form into his arms and breathed in the scent of her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve fought a harder battle than many ever will, and even now, you handle it with grace in front of Kaoru.”

“I don’t want her to worry about me, but I think she knows anyway. She’s a good girl, our daughter. She’ll be a lovely young lady someday.” Her tone was bittersweet with longing. “My kimonos have been set aside for her?”

“Yes, for when the time is right.”

“Mm. Hopefully, they won’t be too out of fashion.”

“They’ll suit Kaoru well. I saw the blue one with the cranes, the one you wore when we met.”

“That was almost twenty years ago, right? I still remember that day, I knew you were kind and honorable. I think I loved you from the moment I told you my name. I never expected to have this, any of this. But I’ve seen the cherry blossoms each year with you, my husband who I’m very proud of. Every day with you has been wonderful.”

“I haven’t been at my best every day. Most days, perhaps even half.”

She shook her head, mouth curving upwards. “No, really. Every day.” She brought her hand to the side of his face, and he leaned in to kiss her.

By autumn, she was in the hospital again. She was deteriorating fast, yet she held onto Koshijiro’s hand as the doctors came in and out. She was too weak to leave her bed, and he held back her hair when her nausea was too powerful to keep at bay. The worst was when she didn’t seem to recognize him or Kaoru, rapidly blinking at them when they greeted her. Her confusion was frightening, and he always ushered Kaoru out, saying that Okaa-san needed her rest. But she was sharp enough to notice.

“It’s so hard to see her like this. I wish I could do something!” She exclaimed, kicking a stray pebble in the road.

“I feel the same. I’d rather it be me in her place.”

“Otou-san, you shouldn’t be in the hospital either.” Kaoru corrected, slumping. “All of us should be home.”

He couldn’t argue, and he took her hand as they departed.

The weather chilled, the leaves bright with color. Flowers were in rare abundance, but they managed to procure an armful of pink dianthus. Kaoru strode into the hospital room, petals falling in her wake.

“Okaa-san, we’re here to visit!”

“Hello.” Her voice was barely audible but her expression was warm.

Koshijiro was relieved she was lucid. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“No, I just woke up. What time is it?”

He told her, as Kaoru arranged the bouquet by the window.

“Oh, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” Tears welled up in her gaze. “You have such a good heart, Kaoru.” She swallowed hard, intent on making her words count. “You’ve been so helpful, so sweet and strong. I’ve told you as much as I can, but if it isn’t enough, know that you’re never alone. Listen to Otou-san, and remember that he wants what’s best for you. There’s always the book, if you need it.”

“I know where the book is. I just want you.” Kaoru quietly replied.

Kyoko was too overcome to speak, cupping Kaoru’s face. Koshijiro sat at her other side, wrapping his arm around her. They huddled close, their conversation meandering; what mattered most was that they were in the present together, for as long as it could last. Eventually, Kyoko’s breathing deepened and her eyes struggled to stay open.

“We’ll be back later.” Koshijiro promised, hesitantly extricating himself.

“See you soon, Okaa-san. Love you.” Kaoru kissed her cheek, and Kyoko gave a fragile smile.

“I love you too. I love you both so much.” Those were her last words, before she fell asleep.

By the following evening, she still hadn’t woken. A number of white-clad hospital staff filled her room, exchanging words that swept over his understanding until someone explained. Kyoko was comatose. He was going to send Kaoru home, but she stamped her foot and insisted on staying. One of the doctors offered a spare office for her to sleep in, while Koshijiro remained by Kyoko’s side. It would not be long before the end, he was warned but he would not budge. He wouldn’t let her go while she was alone.

Her weak pulse fluttered under his thumb, stopping for long seconds before picking up again. His dear, persistent Kyoko. He cupped her cheek and bent his head close, uncertain if she could hear him, but he whispered into her ear. “It’s alright, Kyoko. We don’t want you to be in pain. It’s alright.”

It was ultimately a blessing that Kyoko did not linger. Before midnight, she slipped away. Koshijiro pressed his lips to hers, in one last kiss. Then, he went to Kaoru.

She stirred awake when he touched her shoulder. “Otou-san?” Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

“She’s gone.”

“Can I see her?”

He could only nod, and he led her into the room. Kaoru climbed onto the hospital bed, and stifled her sobs into Kyoko’s neck. He held her cold hand, engraving the memory of her skin into his mind. They remained there until the very last minute.

The funeral was accompanied by a light rain. His arms were burdened with the container of Kyoko’s ashes, and his shoulders hunched unconsciously to protect what was left of his wife from the weather. Kaoru walked beside him, quiet and matching one of his paces with two of her own. The stoic procession marched to the cemetery, and Kyoko was buried in heavy silence.

Time passed by sluggishly. The house was too quiet, and he resorted to kenjutsu, to an escape. If he kept his body occupied and moving, he would not have to think about how empty he felt.

“Otou-san?”

The timid question stopped him mid-step, and he turned to see his daughter standing in the doorway.

“Um. I tried to make lunch. Do you want to eat yet? Because you didn’t have breakfast…”

His gut reaction was to decline, he had probably lost his appetite forever. But he stared at his daughter’s round eyes, the quiver in her chin as she waited for his answer.

No. I can’t give up, I’m all Kaoru has now, and so, I must keep up my strength.

“Alright. Let’s have lunch.”

The onigiri were misshapen, lopsided triangles. There was probably a little too much salt, but to his fatigued body, the flavor wasn’t bad. The rice was definitely undercooked though, and the only sound in the room was the crunch of grains between teeth.

Then, there was a sniffle. Koshijiro lifted his head, to see Kaoru frowning and wiping away tears, even as she chewed. “Sorry.” She warbled. “It doesn’t taste good.”

“Kaoru…” He reached over the table, to awkwardly pat her head. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’m your father, it’s my duty to provide for you. But I’ve been neglecting you. I’m so sorry.”

“Mm.” She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her sleeve across her face.

“Don’t worry about cooking anymore. I’ll hire a new housekeeper to take care of that. I’ll also open the rooms to boarders so we can pay off the rest of the debt. Soon, I’ll continue teaching.”

“Can I be a student again?”

“Yes. The position of head student will always be yours, until you can teach with me.”

“And then?”

“And then, you’ll be assistant instructor. After that, head instructor. The dojo will be yours, and I’ll write it down so no one can take that away from you.”

Kaoru nodded. “Otou-san?”

“Hm?”

“Can I talk about Okaa-san?”

“Your mother loved stories. I think she’d like nothing more than for you to tell stories about her.”

She slowly nodded. “Will you?”

“Perhaps not right away. But even if I don’t speak, she’s always here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “And here.” He pointed to the same spot on his daughter, and she laid her fingers upon it in understanding.

“Okay. I can talk about her for both of us.”

He didn’t respond, but he patted her head again and they continued on.

It was not easy, raising a daughter alone. As much as Kaoru looked like his dear wife, she had inherited her temper from him. They did argue, over trivial matters in hindsight, but such discussions usually ended in Kaoru slamming the door to her room and for him to thumb through his designated pages in Kyoko’s book, rereading her overarching message of love and patience. He would not repeat the mistakes of his youth, and he would knock on her door, requesting that they talk. Thankfully, her anger usually blew over quickly and he made it a point to apologize to each other.

Kamiya Kasshin was ultimately a family project. Kaoru was the first student to try the new techniques, and from observing her as well, Koshijiro made necessary changes and adjustments. His daughter was a natural at kenjutsu, and she freely challenged him.

“Wouldn’t another step work for this kata? I feel like I need to get my balance back from the last turn.”

“That’s fine, but you might run into trouble if you’re in a tight space.”

“Well, that just means it’s more important to rebalance.”

“It seems the turn’s causing the issue. What if we move it up, earlier in the sequence?”

“Yeah, that could work too!”

He did hire a housekeeper, but the middle-aged woman was far stricter than her initial interview conveyed. She heavily disapproved of Kaoru’s love for swordsmanship, insisting that she rise before dawn and sleep late, to complete extra household tasks. But Kaoru was unhappier every day, and it came to a head when the housekeeper mentioned the dreaded word of “marriage”. Kaoru was late for practice and he was searching for her, overhearing the raised voices in the kitchen.

“Why would I care about some husband I haven’t even met yet?” Kaoru exploded. “I’m me and I should be loved for who I am, not because I’m ladylike enough!”

“Your education should have started when you were much younger. Now, I fear it’s too late to salvage.” She glanced over at Koshijiro, striding towards them. “Ah, here’s your father.” If she was expecting him to defend her viewpoint, he was glad to disappoint her.

“I need her in the dojo. Don’t delay her and for that matter, we will not speak of marrying her off. Kaoru is only ten.” He firmly stated. “End of discussion.”

“You spoil her far too much. If she were my daughter, she’d be a proper girl and run the house on her own. I’m not sure what your wife did-”

“And that is where you stop, because she’s not your child, she’s mine.” He coldly dismissed her. “Pack your things and I’ll give you your pay for the week. We have no more need of your services.”

She huffed and gave them nasty looks but didn’t say another word. Before noon, the gate soundly shut behind her.

“Well…that probably went as well as it could.” He said at last.

Kaoru laughed. “I thought it was great. Thank you, Otou-san.” She hugged him and he patted her head. Then, she pouted. “Does this mean we need to find someone new?”

“We can wait a while.” Soon after, they met Sekihara Tae, whose friendship was much appreciated.

When Kaoru was twelve, they had the pleasant surprise of a visitor. Kikuhara was traveling through, and he was interested in the school Koshijiro had described in a New Year’s card. He joined the class as an observer, then to help with basic forms. He began to follow along with the students, and he caught on quickly. After a month, he held his own in sparring against Koshijiro. Kaoru called the close match in Koshijiro’s favor, but they were happy with the outcome.

Kikuhara’s objective seemed to be complete too. He opened a pocket watch and examined the inside. “It’s time for me to go. I have someone to return to now.” With a smile, he turned the watch around to show Koshijiro a photograph of a young girl, no older than five. “My daughter, Midori.”

“A daughter? You…married?”

“No.” Kikuhara paused. “I haven’t told anyone else this, but she’s the illegitimate child of my lord. I was tasked to care for her, but the moment she was placed in my arms, I knew she was as good as my own. She’s very frail though, and she isn’t interested in kenjutsu, unlike your Kaoru. But she’s kindhearted, like her real father.”

“With no offense to your lord, you are her father now and I’m sure she misses you.” Koshijiro pointed out without malice. “If you need any advice on raising her, please let me know.”

“I’ll remember, senpai.” He joked. “I will be sure to bother you about teaching as well. I like some of the kata from Kamiya Kasshin, and its message is honorable. I’m interested in sharing it in Echigo, alongside my own family’s tradition. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“And I’ll call it…Kasshin Shintoryu Kikuhara?”

“Please don’t, you can just keep your family’s name for the school.” He was embarrassed.

“No, it’s a good name, and I’ll be happy to teach under its sign.” At the end of his stay, they saw him off with waves and promises of a future reunion, when Midori was older.

Years passed. He filled a book with the knowledge of Kamiya Kasshin, leaving it in the altar alongside Kyoko’s volume. Kaoru was promoted to assistant instructor after demonstrating mastery in the last kata, and she taught the youngest students while he focused on the older ones. They made a good team. The dojo was raucous with clashing bokken and conversation, and for some time, life was uneventful.

That changed when Kumamoto Castle was taken by the Satsuma army. Before the week’s end, the draft letter arrived, summoning Koshijiro to the warfront once more. He was standing frozen in the front yard and numbly rereading the notice, thinking of how he could hide it before he had a proper chance to speak to Kaoru, when she called out.

“Otou-san, what’s taking you so long?” Too late, her gaze landed on the official stamp on the envelope, and she immediately blanched. “Otou-san?”

“I’m sorry, Kaoru.”

“Why are you apologizing?!” She gave a nervous laugh. “It’s not like you chose to go.”

“In a way, I did when I joined the police.”

“Otou-san, don’t say that. I know you don’t really think so.” She touched his shoulder. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m more worried about you. You’ll be alone.”

“No, I won’t. I have the students, and Tae’s in town. And I can always bring on more boarders.” At his distasteful expression, she scowled. “Don’t say anything about protecting me, because I can defend myself. You know I can!”

“I’m only telling you to be cautious.”

“I am.” She grumbled.

He excused himself, to find two items. One was his tanto, and the other was his father’s. He handed the sheathed blades to her. “Keep one under your pillow, and the other in the secret compartment in the bathhouse.”

“Otou-san.”

“Remember to lock your room every night.”

“Otou-san, I’ll remember. But how are you coping? You’re being called back to war, you’ll have to…” Kill people again. The unspoken words hung in the air.

“I don’t look forward to it, but I will do my best to avoid a worst case scenario. With Kamiya Kasshin, I can disarm as many as I can.”

At that, she lit up. “So, we should train as much as possible. And I want to master the succession techniques before you go!”

That was a good idea. After lessons, they practice sparred, and Koshijiro pinpointed where she needed to improve. Not that there was much, but he wanted to teach her everything he could before leaving. The last afternoon eventually came; Kaoru focused solely on Hadome and Hawatari. She was on the verge of breaking through, and she recognized as much.

“I almost had it! And I knew where I went wrong too! One more time, Otou-san?”

“No, you’re tired. It’s already been over two hours, and I can tell you’re too exhausted to proceed any further today. We should stop here.”

She groaned, slumping. “But I wanted to master them before you left, so you can see.”

“Mastering these techniques shouldn’t be rushed, especially for my sake. You are close. So, not yet, but you’re getting better every time.” He wouldn’t be here to watch her progress though, after this day.

She must have thought so too, for she set her bokken aside and fiercely hugged him. He squeezed her back, hoping it could convey all of what he couldn’t say aloud.

The morning of departure was somber. Kaoru made breakfast, which he ate without complaint. He donned his uniform and hated that his daughter looked so sad when she saw him. However, she didn’t mention it, only asking if he had everything he needed. She trailed him past the front door, the frosted grass crackling under their footsteps.

“I’ll see you soon, Otou-san.” She said, decidedly using the temporary farewell.

“Yes. Protect the school while I’m gone, and go back inside, before you catch a cold. I’ll see you soon, Kaoru.” He clasped her shoulder, hoping to give some strength to her. Then, with great reluctance, he let go and walked alone. He closed the gate behind him, waited until Kaoru locked it again, and headed into town to join his regiment.

The journey to Satsuma was taxing, as they sailed towards Kyushu. He wasn’t as young as many of the other men, and when they camped on the southern island, he fell asleep once his head touched his pillow. The nightmares trickled back, becoming more convoluted every night. The return to the battlefield was dreaded by the other policemen, especially since they were only given wooden batons and swords. He couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved by the lack of a gun. He struck at shoulders, feet, anywhere that wasn’t lethal.

Months passed, as Saigo Takamori’s defeat forced him to flee and the Imperial army followed suit. The minor skirmishes with Saigo’s men culminated into a pincer attack on the Satsuma rebels. Koshijiro gritted his teeth and continued with striking through. To move forward, so this could be over as soon as possible. Suddenly, the line fell back, and he was perplexed for a moment, before the surrounding shouts alerted that there would be shelling. The order was to retreat, to gain as much distance for the explosions that would soon rock the battleground. Koshijiro didn’t even have to time to sheath his sword, the adrenaline humming under his skin, demanding to run as fast and far as he could. The men were tripping over each other and cursing, the fear and apprehension whittling their tempers.

A distant boom, then faint screams. Two steps later, it repeated, only closer. How much time did he have left? Koshijiro’s heart pounded out the tense seconds. A young soldier, barely older than Kaoru, stumbled to his right. Koshijiro switched his katana to his left hand and grabbed the boy’s collar. Using the momentum of his own body, he thrust the boy in front. “Take cover!” He bellowed.

Sound. It deafened him.

Force. His left arm, still outstretched behind him, twisted.

Heat. It seemed to split his skin open.

Pain. And that was enough for his eyes to roll back.

Forgive me, Kaoru-

He woke up, and he could hardly draw breath. He blinked. He had his sight. He was on his back, staring up at a white ceiling. The clamor of groaning men filled his ears. The smells of urine and blood were strong, and he didn’t dare open his dry mouth. He was in a hospital, a crowded one at that. For how long, he didn’t know.

I’m Kamiya Koshijiro, forty-five years old. I have a daughter, Kaoru, who is seventeen. We live in Tokyo. I work with the Tokyo Metropolitan police. I teach Kamiya Kasshin, the sword that protects.

There, his memory was intact. Although when he tried to remember what happened after the explosion, he couldn’t recall anything after the storm of sensation. He must have fainted. He twitched his fingers, his toes. No pain. He turned his head right. Well, his neck wasn’t broken, just stiff. Against his pillow, there was soft friction; the back of his head was bandaged. His right forearm bore the healing crust of a scrape, and he deduced he must have fallen on that side. But he could move his wrist and elbow joints, so there were no fractures. He checked the left-

Immediately, he jerked his head away. Shock kicked in. He didn’t have an arm. His left arm was gone. There was just wrapped white cloth, encasing the end of his shoulder. Then, why could he still feel it, down to the fingertips? He looked again, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

He stared and stared and stared. He didn’t have an arm.

Distantly, he heard a nurse call out that he was awake, and footsteps approached. A doctor introduced himself before asking identifying questions. Koshijiro’s voice was raspy from disuse but he demonstrated he knew who he was. The doctor provided new details.

Koshijiro was in a hospital close to one of the harbors in Satsuma. A week had passed. The Imperial army was fighting on, with the last of the rebel forces weakened. Most of the province was back in the Emperor’s control and it would be a matter of weeks before Saigo surrendered. Reportedly, Koshijiro was found on the battlefield, alone and unconscious. When he was moved here, he had convulsed to reality and blood loss brought him under again.

Overall, he was in rough shape. The explosion had singed some of his hair off, and his skull had to be partially shaved. He had superficial burns on his back, that worsened on his left side. His right knee was swollen and abraded, and part of his big toenail was torn. His body bore minor cuts and bruises from landing. And he no longer had a left arm. The doctor actually had to remove more bone and tissue because what remained after the blast was not clean. But it was free from shrapnel and they could only do their best to prevent gangrene.

He was warned that there would be pain, that his body would not properly recognize that his left arm was gone. Multiple medicines were given to him, and his mouth gained a perpetual bitter taste. He slept in fits throughout his stay. All around him, other men were dying. He always noticed when another body was carried out.

A week passed, but he wasn’t quite healing. He forced himself to look at the dressings as they were changed, and they didn’t seem promising. He bitterly thought he couldn’t recover as well as he could in this place, but he had no say here. And then, one morning, he felt lethargic and his stomach sank in realization. A small part of him clung to hope that it would pass soon, but he forgot it as he became more and more delirious.

The hospital staff was saying he was feverish, and he groggily understood it was bad, because he felt so cold. Sleep was tempting. There was more medicine, more people hovering over him. He felt numb, it would be very easy to sleep forever. Too weak to struggle, his eyes closed.

He did not expect to dream.

He was sitting on the porch, the moon abnormally large and bright above. A quiet warm summer’s night. And he couldn’t see her, but he could feel Kyoko’s presence, as if she was standing behind him.

You’re so close.

I know. But not yet, Kyoko. I made a promise to you, didn’t I?

It was as if she was laughing, her breath warm against his neck. Then, please go home.

Yes. He couldn’t possibly disobey and he was swallowed once more by the void.

When he woke, his fever had broken. To the doctors’ surprise and awe, he had overcome the infection. He didn’t feel like it was miraculous at all; he had made promises and he intended to keep them. Once he heard his wounds were healed, he declared. “I’m leaving.” The response was dismissive, until he tried to leave his bed. He’d had enough of being in the hospital, he argued, and he’d heal more if he wasn’t restrained. That only sent him to another facility, with others in slightly better condition. From so much time on bedrest, he was frustratingly weak, and his legs shook underneath him when he attempted to walk around. But he pushed on, easily recalling a blue-clad figure with braids in her family’s yard, and conjuring a younger one, years later, who must be teaching in the dojo. Even if he no longer had one arm, he still had the other, his legs, and his head. That was good enough to get by. By the time he was discharged, the war had ended with Saigo’s suicide. His return home was overdue but winter’s approach undercut his pace. He was trying desperately not to get sick again.

The initial leg was frustratingly slow. He had no money, and any innkeeper dismissed his offer of labor. One benefit about his amputation was that it was noticeable, and kind strangers would grant him a night or two in a stable or on a fishing boat. But most people tended to avoid his gaze, so he did his best to keep moving. The new phantom pains were excruciating, his ghostly arm wrenching as it had in its final moments. Those incapacitating occasions, as well as his poor physical shape, forced him to rest often, to his chagrin.

He took one such break, on the wayside of a market street. He had managed to buy passage back to Honshu, though it meant he had to agree to a slight detour, since the port was not close to the main roads he recognized. This town was bustling with naval activity, thanks to the iron ships anchored in the dark water. The marine air was soothing, and the latest episode of pain ebbed with each deep breath.

“Ojii-san, where did your arm go?”

He startled, and in his periphery, a little boy stared at him with round eyes. There was a flood of emotion, but his most prominent thought was: I can’t tell this child it was blown off! “Well…” He searched for an appropriate thing to say. “I traded it.”

“For what?”

“So I could go home.”

A woman in her early thirties approached, holding the hand of a slightly older boy. “Sadatake! Oh, I’m so sorry.” The mother was so mortified, bowing her head multiple times. Her obi rested low, under the modest curve of her belly. “Sadatake, apologize to this uncle.”

“Sorry.”

“Please, don’t concern yourselves over it.”

She searched his face for a moment. “You look like you could use some rest and good food. Why don’t you come to our place? My husband wouldn’t mind at all.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“No, I insist.” She pressed her palm on her rounded abdomen and smiled beatifically. The underlying message was not to upset her. “And my husband’s heading this way right now.” She directed her gaze over his shoulder, and he pivoted.

What he saw stunned him.

The man had plenty of silver in his hair, and his right leg dragged with each step, though the sleeping toddler draped over his shoulder didn’t help. Those fox eyes had regained their spark and framed by creases, they widened in recognition. “Kamiya? Kamiya Koshijiro?”

“Hayashi.” He shook his head at the incredulity of the moment, and he gestured to the site of his recent loss. “After all this time, I would certainly like to talk to you.”

The family led the way to a modest house, near Hayashi’s workplace at a naval office. The boys were young, having turned three, five, and seven, and they had just finished celebrating the milestone thrice over. Hayashi was a long way off from his former devastated self. Koshijiro felt a mixture of relief and sympathy as he watched his friend mind the little ones’ table manners at dinner.

“Sadakazu, here, move your cup away so you won’t spill it. Sadanori, wipe your mouth.” Even as he was speaking, he was already carrying out the actions, inspecting his youngest’s face one last time to ensure it was thoroughly clean. Hayashi’s wife fondly watched the spectacle, as Sadatake ate beside her.

The comfort of having a meal at a full table was a balm to Koshijiro’s weary spirit. After the dishes were cleared and the boys were sent to bed, despite their loud protests, Hayashi poured out two cups of warm sake. Koshijiro inhaled the fragrance, appreciating the liquor.

“Been saving up this bottle for a while, and I’m glad I did. I haven’t had the chance to drink in a while either.”

He took a sip. Just hot enough and very good indeed. “I didn’t know you’d become a family man.”

“I didn’t really expect to be one.” Hayashi admitted. “During the Bakumatsu, I was here, watching the troops travel past and trying not to feel useless. But Akie’s family clan sided with the Satcho alliance, and that’s how we met. There wasn’t much of a ceremony, because we married against her family’s wishes. I don’t blame them; I can still hardly believe she’d pick me. But before I could scare her off, the boys came along. Now it’s twins, so I hope at least one of them can convince the rest to be calm and kind to their old father.”

Koshijiro laughed. It was the first time in months, he realized, that he had. “You’ll miss some of it when they’re this young.”

“You have a family, don’t you? A daughter?”

“Yes, Kaoru is in Tokyo. Kyoko passed away, seven years ago.”

Hayashi’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. But you made her happy, anyone could see that. ”

Koshijiro chose not to reply, instead drinking from his cup.

“How old is your daughter now?”

“She’s seventeen.” He had missed her birthday. Discomfort spread through him.

“Damn, you’ll probably be marrying her off before the twins arrive.”

“Kaoru’s still young.”

“I was married to my first wife when I was younger than that.” Hayashi countered. “And it’s been months since you’ve been gone.”

Koshijiro frowned. “I need to return.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed much at all.” His friend grinned. “Maekawa’s in Tokyo too, right? Well, don’t tell him or anyone else yet that I’m here. I will, when I’m ready. Probably after Akie delivers.”

“I think they’d be glad to know you’re living well, but I understand.” The last of the alcohol was drained, and Hayashi thumped his back before urging him to retire. That night, he slept comfortably.

Before dawn broke, he intended to leave quietly, not to bother them anymore and to get a head start on his day. But he wasn’t as quiet as he hoped, for rustling noises carried over into the hallway. He tried to quicken his pace, but a door slid open.

“Gotcha.”

His sighed. “Good morning, Hayashi. And Akie-san.” The couple walked towards him with intent, Hayashi’s hand in his robe.

His friend clicked his tongue. “Good morning indeed. Were you trying to sneak away? How foolish, Kamiya. My wife’s hearing is not to be underestimated. Especially since we want to give you this.” He pushed a cloth bag into Koshijiro’s hand, the hefty weight studded with the metal ridges of the coins within.

“I can’t possibly accept. Please, keep this for your children.”

“They have plenty already. You, on the other hand, don’t have a naval secretary father, so take it.”

Akie added. “It’s a long road to Tokyo, especially when traveling alone. If you can find safety on a boat, a train, or even a cart, we’d be at ease knowing you have the means.” She then kept her voice low. “And I wanted to personally thank you. I know what you and your friends did for my husband, all those years ago, and it’s because of you that I have him. That I have my children and this life. I hope this is a fraction of what I owe you.”

His resistance crumbled. “…I promise not to squander it. In return, I hope you have a safe delivery.” He stepped out, to slip on his shoes.

Hayashi held his wife by the waist, to shield her from the morning chill, and raised his hand in farewell. “If you ever need anything else, let me know.”

“I will, and thank you. It was good to see you.” They bowed to one another, and he did not look back. His path was clear.

The days unfolded, one after another. At last, the surroundings became familiar, and every step took him towards the dojo, his school, and Kaoru.

In the first week of July, the Kyoto police informed them that Shishio and his followers had revealed themselves. Koshijiro was loath to miss an incoming message, and he remained at the station with the night shift, catching himself from nodding off until his sore neck forced him to trudge back to the empty house. The contingency plan was never far from his mind, even manifesting in his dreams. He was awake for good when the news came that Shishio’s ship was burning and falling to pieces off the shoreline. And then, there was another telegram within the hour.

“This one was specifically meant for you, Officer Kamiya.” The chief wryly said. “From your daughter.”

It was short but conveyed so much. WE WON. ALL SAFE.

If he was the type to dance, he could have danced all the way home. But he wasn’t, and ultimately, that meant he noticed that the lights were still on in Dr. Gensai’s clinic. When he knocked, Takani opened up, her eyes tired but offering a little smile when she recognized him. “Kamiya-san?”

“Yes, I have good news. The battle was won in Kyoto.” He showed her the telegram with pride.

“Really?” She exhaled in relief. “I’m so thankful. But it must have been difficult. I would like to see if they need care…”

“Then, let’s go. We’ll leave with the first train in the morning.”

“Just like that?” Takani laughed. “Well, I won’t argue. I’ll tell Dr. Gensai and get my supplies. See you in a few hours.”

He could hardly wait.

Chapter Text

The train’s steady rocking caused him to nod off once or twice, but the sun, cresting over the horizon, kept him awake for good. The sky changed colors, from light purple to intense orange to gentle blue. As he watched, he massaged the back of his neck. It had taken a while to settle in his futon last night, and his muscles were somewhat sore.

Takani had been lightly dozing, and she stirred when the light poured in through the window. She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. “Did you not sleep, Kamiya-san?”

“On and off. We still have some time before we arrive.”

“Oh, I can’t anymore. I should be ready to work once we disembark.”

“I did hear Sagara-san might have done something that will upset you.”

She clicked her tongue. “Typical!” After a moment, she asked. “Did you hear anything else?”

Mixed feelings. “Nothing medical.”

Her lips pursed in suspicion. “Anything that would upset you?”

“I have no reason to be upset.”

“Hmm. Your arm’s length rule is funny.” She remarked. “But otherwise, I’ve noticed Kaoru has a lot of freedom in her life.”

“I’m her father but she is her own person. Above all, I trust her and she knows if I don’t like something, I will be honest.”

She gave a bittersweet smile. “You and my father would have gotten along. He was very progressive, like the rest of our clan. Men and women alike were encouraged to study medicine. My father was direct too, he always believed patients deserved the truth. I forgot that, over the years.”

“I think your father would be happy that you’re in a better place now, doing good work.”

She did not reply to that, turning her face slightly away. “I’ve been thinking of going back to Aizu.” She slowly said. “Not right now, it hasn’t been finalized, but I am looking for a job there.”

“Do you miss your home?”

“A little, yes.” She hesitated. “I want to search for my mother and brothers. I know it’s probably unlikely they survived, it’s been a decade. However, Dr. Gensai told me about what happened to you and how you turned out to be alive. So…”

“I understand. Would you like me to help? I can send a message to the department there and see if they have any information.”

“Would you?!” Her eyes widened before she forced herself to be composed. She interlaced her trembling fingers. “I…I would be very grateful.”

“It’s no problem. I should have done so earlier. Although I must warn you, it might not be good news.”

Her expression was wry. “I’m a doctor. I’m used to bad news and I’d rather know for certain.”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Can you give me any information?”

She opened one of her books, flipping to a blank section and writing in earnest. “My mother. My oldest brother, and my second older brother. I can give you their dates of birth, and here is our former address. They disappeared, during a fire at Wakamatsu Castle. Do you need anything else?”

“It should be enough to start with. Don’t tear out the pages now, I’ll investigate when we return to Tokyo. Just in case I forget, please remind me.”

“I will. Thank you, Kamiya-san.” Her hair fell forward as she bowed at the waist. When she was upright again, she discreetly wiped at her eyes and Koshijiro pretended not to notice. Outside, the landscape blurred past in shades of green.

When their last train slowed to a hissing halt, it was already mid-morning. Asking for directions, they made their way to the Aoiya. The streets slowly revealed destruction, fallen debris littered about and scorch marks upon walls. Then, there were wooden support beams propping up buildings, and round pits in the streets. Koshijiro stopped. What was supposed to be their destination was half destroyed.

“Hey! You got here fast!” Yahiko approached them, rigidly waving. Bandages wound around his head and disappeared down his neck. He was keeping his torso straight; he must have suffered an injury.

“It’s good to see you.” Koshijiro reached out to steady his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grinned. “The Aoiya is worse off.”

“That’s certainly true. Where is everyone else?”

“At the Shirobeko. Uh…” His expression became serious. “Sano’s okay but Kenshin was hurt really bad. Some doctors were brought in last night, but they haven’t left yet.”

That caught Takani’s attention and they followed him to the restaurant. “I thought Kaoru said you were all safe! And you should be resting!” She said indignantly.

“Well, we are safe, we’re not getting attacked. And um, I wrote the telegram. Kaoru hasn’t left Kenshin’s bedside, so she told me to send a message. We figured you both would be here soon, no matter what I’d say, so I just tried to keep it short. Those things are expensive! By the way, how did you make it in one day? Last time, it took three to get to Kyoto.”

Koshijiro provided the explanation. “There was a fight between two gangs, and I was compensated for additional interrogations and paperwork in the aftermath. I was able to pay for the extra expense to take the new railroad route from Yokohama to Kobe. It was luck that we met at the Aoiya.”

“Yeah, I was tired of lying around. I volunteered to get some info, so they can start rebuilding.”

Takani wasn’t pleased. “I’ll examine you later, and I’ll have a word with whoever let you go.”

Fortunately, the Shirobeko was no worse for the wear and after greeting Sae, they walked to the second floor. One room was bustling with activity; Takani rolled up her sleeves and joined the fray, introducing herself as Himura’s doctor from Tokyo. The door closed behind her, and although Koshijiro strained to look, he was unable to see past the huddled group to find any trace of his daughter or Himura. He considered going in but couldn’t think of how he could help. It was best to leave the professionals to their work and Yahiko led him back down the stairs, to find a quiet spot in the yard.

“Do you wanna know what happened?” The boy was eager to divulge the battle in Kyoto. It was a long one, full of action and daring feats. “I took down this guy with wings!”

Some parts were difficult to swallow at first, but he trusted Yahiko. He tended to exaggerate, but he was honest. After his initial fight with Shishio’s second, Kenshin had received a new sakabato from the son of the original swordsmith. This was technically crafted with the first, and it had been the version given to the gods. Now, it would do well in Himura’s hands. Shishio’s naval attack had been thwarted by Himura, Saito, and Sagara; the city was defended by the others, along with the numerous policemen. Yahiko had picked up one of Himura’s moves and used it to claim victory over his opponent.

“You figured it out from watching him?”

“Yeah, but I had to practice in secret, since it’s not Kamiya Kasshin. Kaoru knows now, though.”

“I’m impressed. You’ve become an excellent student, just within this year.”

“Thanks. I want to get stronger, to fight with everyone.” He gave a toothy smile. He had matured a little since Koshijiro had last seen him. “Kaoru also took down one of Shishio’s gang. Her shinai broke, but she kept fighting and won!”

“Did she? I’d like to tell her she did a good job.” He glanced up at the building. He hoped she was alright, as was Himura.

“She wasn’t hurt too bad, and Kenshin will make it. They’ll be okay, Kamiya-san.” Yahiko was very certain of this, or perhaps, he was trying to convince himself too. “And then, Kenshin and Sano-”

“Someone say my name?” At the familiar voice, they turned. Sagara was in even worse shape than Yahiko, with twice as many bandages and his face badly bruised. His right hand was rendered immobile in a sling, and his left fingers were wrapped up as they lifted in greeting. If this was ‘okay’ in Yahiko’s mind, what condition was Himura in? “Hey, old man.”

“Sagara-san, how are you?”

“Still kicking.” He grinned. “Fox is here too?”

“She’s upstairs with the other doctors.”

“Right.” His good humor evaporated, and he trudged over, exhaling loudly as he sat on the back steps. “Kenshin’ll be fine, he definitely will. Now that the fox is helping out, he’s in better hands. Anyway, what were you talking about?”

“I was telling him about our fights!” Yahiko supplied. “But I didn’t mention your new punching technique yet.”

“Leave that to me.” He spun a tale of wandering in the forest, which led to a fateful instructive meeting with a monk. The new technique was essentially a double punch, resulting in increased destructive force. Unbeknownst to Sagara at the time, his teacher was one of Shishio’s comrades. It made for a bittersweet duel in the final battle, and the monk, Anji, had willingly turned himself in.

One by one, the rest of the Ten Swords fell, either in Kyoto or defending their leader, and Shinomori had settled his grudge with Himura in their own match. The story reached its climax with a four-way fight against Shishio. It had been vicious, with Himura using the succession technique of Hiten Mitsurugi, and ended with the other man succumbing to his burns in the prolonged battle. Even after sacrificing his lover, Shishio had died laughing in an inferno.

By the time the story reached its end, it was lunchtime. Sae urged them inside, and as they sat down, Koshijiro realized that there was someone he hadn’t seen yet. He glanced around, craning his head. No sign of him at all, not even a hint of cigarette smoke.

“Where is the assistant chief inspector?”

Neither of them responded at first, exchanging glances. Yahiko stalled. “Uh…”

“We don’t know.” Sagara said. “Last time I saw him, it was after Shishio went up in flames. Saito just walked back in, but I don’t think he died!”

Koshijiro didn’t believe so either, but he wondered what he was going to tell Tokio. “It’s possible he had some work to finish, for whatever the Minister wanted him to accomplish. If he hasn’t returned by tomorrow, we can try to look for him.”

“Yeah, I’ll lead the way. Sounds like a plan, old man.”

The atmosphere remained tense, and Koshijiro was unable to savor much of his meal, though he encouraged the boys to eat and recover their strength. After the dishes were cleared away, he intended for a short stroll outside.

The strong aroma of sake was the first thing he noticed. Leaning against the restaurant’s wall, a tall man was drinking out of a jug. His coat was draped over his shoulders, his long hair in disarray. He wiped his mouth, and his dark gaze landed on Koshijiro.

“So, my idiot apprentice has more people from Tokyo to visit?”

Koshijiro politely ignored the modifier. “Your apprentice?”

“Yes, the idiot who hasn’t woken up yet.” He briefly jerked his head towards the building.

“I’m afraid Himura-san is still unconscious.”

“Hm.” He took another pull, the liquid sloshing. “How do you know him?”

“Himura-san has been living with us. I’m Kamiya Koshijiro.”

“Ah. You’re the tanuki girl’s father.”

“...tanuki girl?”

“The kenjutsu master, who my idiot apprentice is besotted with.” He lifted his hand to his chin, with a smug smile. “Her face reminds me of a tanuki.”

Koshijiro was at a loss to interpret any of that.

“Anyway,” The stranger continued. “I am Hiko Seijuro, the Thirteenth Master of Hiten Mitsurugi. And as it seems, most likely the last.”

“He isn’t dead.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Kaoru’s letters had not described him in great detail, but Himura’s teacher really was a strange person. Assuming he’d only obtain more questions than answers, Koshijiro opted for another subject. “I heard that you helped protect the city. Thank you for your effort.”

“I only came since it was a request.” His eyes darted to the upper floor again. “I had to get supplies anyway, they still haven’t been delivered yet. Speaking of which…” Abruptly, he straightened and corked his jug.

“Do you need any help?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. How’d you lose the arm?”

What a blunt question! Even Hayashi’s son was more tactful, and at least, he had the excuse of childhood innocence. “…Satsuma.” He left it ambiguous to whether it was last year or during the Bakumatsu.

“Hm. This is why I stay out of politics.” Before Koshijiro could respond, he was already stepping out of the alley. Hand lifting in farewell, Hiko walked into the main street without even swaying. The entire encounter had left Koshijiro feeling off-balance, not helped by the overt smell of liquor, and he made his way in the opposite direction.

The other swordsman was still gone when he returned, though something was clearly different within the Shirobeko. Sagara had dozed off and Yahiko had acquired an inkbrush, which was paused in midair between them.

“This…this isn’t what it looks like!” He protested.

Koshijiro suppressed a sigh. “Is it a message you can’t put down on paper?”

“Well, he has ‘evil’ on his back, so I thought he’d like it on his sling too.”

“Let’s ask him when he wakes up. For now, you can practice.”

They must have been too loud, because Sagara snorted and lifted his head. “What’s going on?” Upon Yahiko’s admission, he readily agreed to the addition. “Hell yeah, you can. Thanks!”

“Sure, I’ll start right now!” He aimed for the white cloth.

“Wait a second. Do you know how to write the character?”

“I’ve seen it so many times.”

“Seeing is not the same as practicing.” Koshijiro added. “It’s the same with kenjutsu.”

“You’re right, old man.” Sagara took his side. “Come on, Yahiko, get some paper.”

Grudgingly, the younger boy began to draft his rendition of ‘evil’. Sae approached with a fresh pot of tea and rice crackers, inquiring about her sister and the Tokyo branch. The conversation was a good distraction for a number of minutes.

At last, footsteps echoed from upstairs; the doctors were leaving. Their expressions were not grim, but not totally satisfied either. After they filed out, he heard her voice first.

“Thank you again, Megumi.”

“We’re far from finished. It’ll be a long road of recovery ahead, and he has a very high risk of infection. If it weren’t for the full hospital beds, I would have transferred him to the closest one. The next few days will be critical.” Takani warned, as she descended to the lower floor.

And then, there was Kaoru, following behind her. “I know. I just wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve done well until now, and unless I call you again, your presence is enough.” The doctor briskly nodded, and then in the direction of Koshijiro. “I’m sure your father will agree.”

Immediately, her face lit up. “Otou-san!” She rushed over to embrace him, and he held her tight. It felt like it had been years since he had last seen her. “I’m happy you’re here!”

“So am I. You look tired, Kaoru.”

“I’m fine.” She argued. There were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and her hair was mussed. He laid the back of his hand against her forehead. She wasn’t feverish but she obviously needed rest. Grumbling, she did her best to glare at him. “Geez, I said I was fine.”

“I heard you, I only wanted to be certain. It’s been six weeks.”

She smiled. “Otou-san, you were lonely, weren’t you?”

He deliberately cleared his throat. “We’ve just finished lunch, but I can order anything you’d like.” She had supposedly eaten a late breakfast and claimed not to be hungry, but she sat down with relief. When Koshijiro pushed the rice crackers toward her, she did grab a handful.

“Ken-san has been stabilized, and two of the Oniwabanshuu are watching him in the meantime. I don’t know when he’ll wake up.” Takani informed them as she took a seat. “I will not lie, his condition is serious and we’re treating it as such. We’ll keep a close eye.”

“Thanks for letting us know. Drink up, you deserve it.” Sagara nodded at the teapot.

“Oh? I won’t refuse-what?” Her gaze had followed his sling and she gave a cry of horror upon noticing his right hand. “What did you do?!”

“Sorry.” He said without a trace of regret. “I learned something new.”

“Being foolish isn’t exactly new for you, rooster head.”

“Hey!”

As they sniped back and forth, Kaoru exclaimed. “I almost forgot! Misao should be finished soon with her recon, and she wanted an update. She said she’ll be going through the back.” With that, she stood and hurried through the dining area.

Koshijiro followed suit, and by the time he caught up, his daughter was greeting another girl around her age. She was shorter, her hair in a long braid, and her garb was designed for maximum mobility. She had a familiar face…recognition struck him.

“Otou-san, this is Makimachi Misao.”

“Nice to meet you!” She bowed in greeting, and he certainly remembered that cheeky voice.

“Thank you for hosting my daughter and her friends. But I believe we’ve met before, in Tokyo.” He said meaningfully.

A beat followed, as the girl scrutinized him. Then, her jaw dropped. “Oh. Ohhh. I did, uh, borrow your wallet.”

“Misao!” Kaoru was appalled. “You were the girl who stole from Otou-san?”

“I didn’t know, and I was running low on cash! Sorry!” She held up her hands, palm to palm in apology.

“It’s alright. I believe you’ve fully repaid with your hospitality. Although, it would be wise to refrain from stealing again.”

“For sure, I don’t need to anymore. I’m home again, and so is Aoshi-sama.” At this, her smile dropped. “Physically at least.”

“Are you speaking of Shinomori-san?” The last time Koshijiro had seen that man in person, he had broken into the dojo. He had followed a meandering path since then, but he must have changed for the better.

“Yeah…he’s been hurt too, but he doesn’t talk at all. It’s the emotional pain, I think.”

“That takes time, even longer than the physical.”

“I guess.” She gave a heavy sigh disproportionate to her petite frame.

Kaoru clasped her shoulder. “Misao, why don’t we get Megumi and my father settled in?”

“True, that’s something we can do. It’ll keep our minds off worrying about the men we love.” With renewed purpose, she bounded into the restaurant.

He gave his daughter a very pointed look. “And what exactly did she mean by that?”

Kaoru furiously blushed. “Otou-san, let’s talk later, okay?” And then, she rushed after Makimachi.

So far, people here had been hinting at something, but now this! This response was entirely unfamiliar, and he felt like his feet had been kicked out from under him. What on earth had happened while they were in Kyoto…?!

Somehow, he processed that he was assigned to the same room as Sagara and Yahiko, while Takani would join the girls. Space was cramped, but they had to make do. While his futon was set up, Kaoru had slipped into Himura’s room again, to his frustration. Later, indeed.

Makimachi introduced him to the rest of the Oniwabanshuu, four young men and women with variable injuries but equally bright smiles. They referred to her as their leader, which caused her to turn crimson. “That’s me, the Okashira. Haha!”

Her reaction was odd, and Koshijiro inquired. “Did you not want the position?”

“No, I do. That’s why I took it, when Aoshi-sama…well, he wasn’t in his right mind and I stepped in. I’m still not used to directing everyone yet. But don’t think I’ll quit! I’ll embrace this responsibility, and lead the Oniwabanshuu into a new era!”

A new voice entered the conversation. “Well said, Misao!” Walking up to them, an older man stroked his gray beard. His bandaged shoulder concealed wounds of his own; this must have been Okina. “That determination is exactly what we need. And is this another of Himura-san’s friends?” After the usual pleasantries, he added. “Himura-san mentioned you.”

“Did he?”

“He said you were our trusted ally for the second line of defense in Tokyo, if we happened to fail here.”

Koshijiro glanced back at the too-quiet room. “I’m glad it didn’t have to come to that.”

“I feel the same way.” He smiled kindly. “Have faith in him, Kamiya-san. I was also on the precipice and I pulled through, even at my age. Himura-san will wake when he’s ready.”

Okina then spoke to Makimachi, of what seemed to be innocent errands but the deliberate phrasing made Koshijiro suspect it was code for internal matters. It was clear that he was nudging her into her role, presenting the decisions suitable for a leader to resolve; she was initially nervous but stood her ground. At the end, he was satisfied with her choices and she seemed bolstered. Saying that he’d see them around, the spy left to fulfill his duties.

Makimachi gave another heavy sigh. “Now, what to do, about Aoshi-sama. Oh! Maybe, he’d talk to you. Could you try?”

“I only met him briefly, and you know him best. At the moment, I believe he needs space.” Koshijiro then suggested. “You could write notes to him. My wife and daughter did so, when I was struggling in the past.”

“Notes, huh. That’s a pretty great idea, I can slide them into his room.” She beamed. “Thanks, Kamiya-san! I think I saw the ink and paper downstairs.”

As she grabbed the materials and ran, he remained in the dining area. Sagara and Yahiko were passing the time, playing a game of Go.

“How is he?” Sagara spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as he moved to capture a few white stones.

“Nothing new, as of yet.”

“But Kenshin is the strongest in Japan.” Yahiko insisted. “And he got some of Megumi’s medicine we brought, so that should help.”

“Did Kaoru give it to him?”

“Yeah, while they were talking on the rooftop.”

“Talking on the rooftop?” Koshijiro repeated, and the boy immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “Why were they there?”

“Er…um…” His eyes were roving about. “They were sitting next to each other and talking really quietly, so it seemed serious. Like, they were gonna kiss or something…”

What?

“Come to think of it,” Sagara mused as he rolled a black stone between his left fingers. “Kenshin said something weird while we were in Shishio’s base. He thought he heard Jou-chan’s voice, and he felt better even if he only imagined it.”

What??

“And she was crying a lot when we came back, saying ‘please don’t die, Kenshin, stay with me’.” His voice hit a terribly executed falsetto. “She wouldn’t let go of his hand until the doctors came. Ah, oops. Sorry, old man, maybe you shouldn’t have-”

But he was already walking away. Before dinner began, he intended to have that conversation with Kaoru. She wasn’t in the girls’ room, only Takani was. She was in the middle of combing her hair and anticipated what he would ask.

“Are you looking for Kaoru? She’s still in his room.” She coolly said.

“Thank you, Takani-san.” He paused. “And thank you for your work today.”

“That’s what I can do for him. Apparently, Kaoru really helped overnight as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a fairly new practice in Japan. When someone loses blood, they can receive more from another person, but there are limitations and it can be dangerous. We’re still figuring it out. However, some people can give blood without fear of hurting someone. Kaoru is one of those people, she said she found out last year. With how much he’d already lost, there was no time to test Ken-san, so it was good to know that about her. Ken-san couldn’t have been stabilized so quickly if she wasn’t here.”

He considered this new information. “I didn’t know. Did you give him any blood as well?”

“I’m not in the same category as Kaoru. So, my expertise is all I can do for him.” Recognizing the double meaning of her own words, her rouged mouth twisted and she resumed pulling the comb through. It was best to leave her alone.

The door was slightly ajar, and he peered inside. Himura was covered up to his chin by blankets. Kaoru knelt at his side, and there was a severely torn gi in her lap, the needle jutting out of the fabric. Her expression was brimming with concern as she looked over him.

“Kaoru?”

She jerked her head towards him. “Otou-san? You can come in.”

He did, properly closing the door behind. He sat next to her, watching Himura’s slow, even breathing. “Any change?”

“No, he hasn’t woken up yet.” She undid a stitch, creating a tighter one in its place. “It’s hard to wait.”

“I know, Kaoru. It’s difficult, but he’s healthy and resilient.”

She didn’t respond at first, her throat working. “When they came back, the moon was rising. Behind them, there was a trail of blood. His blood. He couldn’t walk on his own, or raise his head. He was cold. And when the doctors were closing his wounds, he didn’t even react. Shishio bit into his shoulder, close to where the vessels were. I’m so scared for him.”

“However, you should take care of yourself as well. Overly worrying will not do you or him any good.” He gently reminded her.

“Yeah, but I can’t help it. Okaa-san died in her sleep too…” Her voice diminished as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand.

At the memory, Koshijiro’s chest tightened. Without speaking, he lifted the blanket enough to find Himura’s hand. A few scrapes were already scabbed over, and his nails had been cut and cleaned. He placed two fingertips upon the sleeping man’s pulse. Rapid, but not abnormally so, given that his body was working hard to heal. “At the moment, he’s not in immediate danger. I heard he received some of your blood?”

She clasped the inner part of her left elbow, where it must have been taken from. “I did. While you were gone, the hospital was paying people for samples, that it could help in emergencies. It was after the students left, so I signed up. I was told that I have good blood, I can restore almost anyone.”

“Well, I expect nothing less from my daughter. You’ve done excellent work, from fighting off Kyoto’s attackers to giving your own life force to Himura-san. I’m very proud of you.”

Her smile was strained. “But he’s still fighting. Otou-san, I don’t want to lose him. We have to return to Tokyo together.” She was on the verge of tears, and he held her shoulder.

Waiting until she was calmer, he quietly broached the question. “Do you love him?”

“I…” She took a deep breath. “Misao’s been in love with Shinomori-san since she was very young. I only met Kenshin at the beginning of the year, but…I really care about him. After we were finished here, all I could wonder about was whether he was safe. I want him to be happy, and even though he carries his past regrets, I want to help him. I may not understand all of it, but if I can make him smile, that’s enough for me.” She looked at Himura with an emotion Koshijiro had seen before but not from her. It had been in Kyoko’s face, when he read aloud to her while she was ill. It was longing, tenderness, a deep and unwavering love.

Oh. She really did love him. Not that he was completely surprised, but her confession made it definitive.

However, Himura had not declared his intentions at all. Towards Kaoru, what did he feel? Was it equal to her own for him? He had said goodbye only to her, but what if that had no deeper meaning? And what were the mixed feelings he had spoken of, when they reunited? There was still room for doubt, and thus, still a possibility for Kaoru to be hurt. Right now, Himura’s health was the priority, but after he recovered, there had to be a conversation. Until then, if she wasn’t directly assisting him, keeping the two of them apart at arm’s length was the best course of action. If Himura really did care for his daughter, he would be respectful, and at the very least, begin a courtship. If not…the distance would protect her. Even if she was an adult, Kaoru would always be his little girl. She deserved to be loved in return for what she gave, and anyone who treated her badly would earn his eternal resentment.

“Kaoru, when-” A rustle of movement interrupted him, as very slowly, Himura opened his eyes.

She set aside her sewing, drawing close to him. “Kenshin?”

He lifted his gaze, and his mouth formed a small smile in recognition. Almost too quietly to hear, he murmured. “Kaoru…dono.”

“I’m here, Kenshin. You’re safe at the Shirobeko. I’m glad you’re awake. Thank goodness…” She wiped away her tears of relief.

Urgently, Koshijiro stepped out, calling for Takani, who immediately rushed over. Unfortunately, he was already drifting back to sleep by the time she arrived, but she seemed reassured by the development. Sagara and Yahiko, panting from running upstairs, were disappointed that they hadn’t witnessed the moment. From below, someone complained of scattered Go pieces on the floor.

During the night, they took turns watching him, settled by a tournament of janken. With a win and a loss, Koshijiro was dealt one of the middle shifts. Through his two hours, Himura didn’t stir at all. If he was dreaming, it was hopefully good.

At dawn, he went with Sagara to look for their missing ally. They searched the shoreline, where the ship had sunk, and followed the trail to the rebels’ base, which Shishio’s remaining lackeys had fled. He spoke to the Kyoto police, who were making arrests, but no one had spotted the man nor his katana. It was altogether strange.

“Well, there hasn’t been a corpse.” Sagara pointed out. “But what was he thinking? There’s gotta be a reason that he went off alone.” He continued down the path, grumbling to himself.

Aloud, Koshijiro said. “Even wolves hunt better in packs. Isn’t that why I was given responsibilities in Tokyo?” The whistling wind was his only response.

When they returned, Yahiko shared that Himura was able to stay awake long enough for breakfast. Sagara barged in first, cheering to the point where Takani admonished him for being disruptive. She dragged him out by the ear, remarking that his dressings needed to be changed.

Koshijiro saw Himura uncovered for the first time. In the daylight, Himura was startlingly frail. He must have pushed his body beyond its limits, to defeat Shishio. Both of his shoulders were wrapped, the fabric crossing his abdomen. Another wound was at his right flank. Propped up on pillows, he was being spooned broth. By Kaoru.

He felt a twitch in his forehead. “Hello, Himura-san. I see that you are looking better.”

“Hello…Kamiya-dono.” His voice was slightly uneven.

Kaoru fed him another mouthful. “Let me know if you want your tea.”

Himura gave the barest nod, and even that required visible effort.

“The last time we met, it was before you left for Kioisaka.” Koshijiro said, sitting by the door. “I know you did not want to initially leave, but thank you for preserving this country’s peace. I am very glad that you survived, and that you did not have to break your vow.”

“So is this one.” He breathed out. “But this one came close, only once.”

Kaoru had evidently not heard this, because she lowered the bowl. “Kenshin?”

He spoke slowly, hesitantly. “It was after the first sakabato broke, and this one went to find the original smith. He had passed away, and his son was no longer crafting swords, to live quietly with his family. Then, one of the Ten Swords took their infant hostage. This one was given the only katana remaining, in order to save the child.”

Koshijiro frowned. Balancing the vow not to kill against the life of a baby? What kind of person would impose this choice upon Himura? “What did you decide?”

“This one used the scabbard to strike the enemy, and as he went down, this one saw that the sword was a sakabato after all.”

“So, that’s what happened.” Kaoru softly said.

“However, for a moment, this one considered drawing anyway.” His tone was serious; the memory weighed heavily on him. “In that second, it didn’t matter what kind of sword it was. But this one remembered something. The night when Jin-e kidnapped Kaoru-dono. The answer she gave this one, when her life was in danger. To not give in, even when it is tempting. To remember that life should be protected. So this one changed tactics. This one’s first thought was suited for Hiten Mitsurugi, but the issue was settled by Kamiya Kasshin.”

Himura had saved the child, while the principle of ‘the sword that protects life’ had saved him in turn. Since the beginning, he had taken the school’s message seriously, yet this was the first time he explicitly had it in mind during a fight. He was not only wielding a reverse-bladed sword, but the foremost lesson of Kamiya Kasshin as well. It was a subtle change, and Koshijiro approved, with an upwelling of pride and satisfaction.

Kaoru had recognized the significance as well, eyes wide and unconsciously leaning towards Himura. Her voice was hopeful. “Kenshin, you were thinking of Kamiya Kasshin?”

“This one did say that he preferred your vision.” And he smiled at her, a true one that reached his gaze.

Koshijiro realized that this was probably what Yahiko had seen on the rooftop. This closeness, like a magnetic draw to each other, even if they weren’t touching. Before he could remind them of his presence, another voice floated overhead.

“Finally, my idiot apprentice is awake.” Hiko was standing at the threshold, expression impassive.

Himura blinked. “You were here, Shishou?”

“Of course. It took me far too long, because you didn’t tell me the location of a place called the Aoiya.”

To Koshijiro’s surprise, Himura seemed annoyed. “This one believed you would ask.”

“Did you think any of these people would stop and provide directions, while the city was under attack?”

“If you did not know where it was, you could have said that, when this one first told you.”

“Both of you, stop it!” Kaoru interjected, lifting the spoon to Himura’s mouth. “Hiko-san, don’t pester him. Kenshin, you should take it easy. Everyone’s okay, so no more arguing. Understood?”

Reluctantly, they both nodded. A tentative stalemate. The silence was only disrupted by Himura’s sips.

She gave him the last of the broth, then half his tea to wash it down. She was about to stand, but Himura’s free fingers pinched her sleeve, keeping her close. “Thank you, Kaoru-dono.”

“You’re welcome, Kenshin.” She smiled down at him. There was no sign she was resuming her previous action.

“Arm’s length.” Koshijiro said, out of habit, only to remember that Hiko was standing right there.

The man erupted into loud, malicious laughter. “Is that how you’re living, baka deshi? At arm’s length?”

Himura actually scowled. “Shishou…”

“I’ve heard of horrific mothers-in-law, but you? You have a strict father-in-law.”

“Father-in-law?!” Koshijiro and Kaoru exclaimed simultaneously.

“W-what?” She stammered. “That’s not how it is! Otou-san doesn’t act like a…that would mean…”

Himura’s face was a shade close to his loose hair, and his jaw clenched. “Remind this one why you are still here, and not at the mountain.”

“My supplies are taking too long.”

“Yes, they are. Your demands must have been overwhelming.”

This was a different side of Himura, more like the young man he really was. Koshijiro thought it was refreshing, and honestly, his master was insufferable. Tired after finishing his meal, Himura’s eyelids started to fall. Kaoru ushered the men out to leave him be, though she didn’t linger either, stepping out moments later and taking his tray to the kitchen.

With nothing else to do, Hiko leisurely headed downstairs. “Will he be going to Tokyo with you?”

Koshijiro replied. “That is the plan, unless he expresses otherwise.”

“I doubt he will. I’d never seen my idiot apprentice at a loss for words, until your daughter walked into my house.”

“Didn’t he say he had mixed feelings?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard. Half anger and half relief, that’s what he said.”

Anger, presumably that she had followed him when he had willingly gone on this mission. But relief…he had been relieved to see her face. Neither of those emotions, however, were indicative of romantic love.

“But while he’s here,” Hiko continued. “I’ll make up for lost time. It’s entertaining to watch you put him in check. To think, after all these years, the idiot would actually listen to someone and it’s an overbearing tanuki father who just lost his arm.”

“I did not tell you when that happened.”

“No, but it’s in your bearing. You’re awkward, you haven’t entirely adjusted. You still believe you’re inadequate, and that burden is heavier than this coat. Well? What have you done to correct that?”

He really didn’t like this man. He retorted. “At the very least, I wasn’t drinking myself into a stupor out of worry.”

Hiko whipped around, coat flaring and eyes narrowed. Koshijiro refused to flinch.

Then, the so-called Thirteenth Master showed his gritted teeth. “It wasn’t out of worry. Sake is good at any time of the day, as long as there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“And I am content enough to be alive, with or without my left arm.”

“So, if neither of us have complaints, then we have nothing more to speak of. Tell my idiot apprentice I haven’t finished my supply run.” Abruptly, he marched on, striding out of the Shirobeko.

With his frustration boiling over, Koshijiro took the opportunity to begin repacking. He could handle his belongings perfectly fine. And he hated that Hiko’s observation had genuinely disturbed him. When the boys had described the battles, he had been thinking as well, of strategy and how he would have acted. But he had to rework every move, to account for his current state. The one-handed variant of Kamiya Kasshin was in development, and even though he had tested it, his opponent had been unskilled. With how he was now, he wouldn’t have been able to protect anyone in Kyoto, and his own responsibilities had their importance. But seeing everyone’s injuries had stung the swordsman in him. Once he was in the dojo, he’d have to continue his progress.

Kaoru must have heard the noise, because she knocked. Looking around the room, she asked. “You’re going home today?”

“I am. I have work tomorrow.” He turned to her. “Do you want to return with me?”

Immediately, she shook her head. “Kenshin can’t travel yet, and I don’t want to leave him. Or everyone else.”

Sagara and Yahiko were not ready either; Takani intended to continue her care of all of them during the week. On a positive note, Kaoru also enjoyed Makimachi’s company. The younger girl was boisterous and trained in martial arts, so it was no wonder they had become fast friends. “It’s alright if you stay.”

“Really?”

“Yes. After all, I’ll be back next weekend.”

She blinked. “Huh?! I mean, Otou-san, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. Who else will enforce the arm’s length rule?”

“Geez, Otou-san! It’s still in place, even when Kenshin’s hurt?”

“Helping him is an exception. If nothing inappropriate will happen, then there is no issue.”

“I shouldn’t have told you anything.” She grumbled.

He gave a leveling stare. “Kaoru. You don’t mean that.”

“No.” With an exhale, she crossed her arms. “You’re just being really picky about this.”

He sensed that if he unveiled his full reasoning, particularly the possibility that Himura did not care for her in the way she most desired, she would be incredibly upset. Instead, he said. “As a young man and woman, this ensures that you’ll be mindful of how you act around each other. It seems that’s slipped in the past weeks.”

“So we should talk behind folding screens?” As if she hadn’t poked holes through rice paper when she was younger.

He ignored the sarcasm. “If your feelings are true, they will endure. Unless you become formally engaged, the rule will remain.” Wait. Damn it. Damn Hiko for mentioning the word ‘father-in-law’.

Kaoru was bright red. “…Alright.”

“I’m not saying that I expect an engagement or that if there was such a thing, you would be free to do whatever you like.” He hastily added. “It was a hypothetical example.”

“Uh-huh.”

Acutely aware he was digging a deeper hole, he excused himself to say goodbye to the others. Makimachi was in the hallway, lightly humming and glancing up from her ink-covered sheet of parchment.

“Are you leaving already, Kamiya-san? The rest of the Oniwabanshuu are out on tasks, so that’s too bad.”

“Give them my regards, although I’ll be here again in six days.”

“Oh, great! I followed your advice, by the way. Would you like to say anything to Aoshi-sama?”

“Only that I wish he recovers and despite a rough start, I appreciated his aid in this.”

“You got it!” She finished her note with a flourish and turned to the nearest door, cracking it open. She pushed the paper inside, and it fluttered to the tatami. A glimpse showed that Shinomori was in a meditating position, his rigid back towards them. She closed the door with forced cheer; she definitely had an uphill battle, but kindness always won out in the end.

Takani was mixing medicine, though she asked him to let Dr. Gensai know she would be staying. “And here are the pages.” She carefully tore them out of her book.

“It may take time, but I will do the best I can from my end.”

“Thank you, Kamiya-san.” She returned to her work, still melancholy but a little less than before.

Yahiko was next, and he handed off a folded square of paper. “It’s for Tsubame, I said I’d write to her after we won. Don’t read it!”

“I have no intention of doing so.” He gravely answered. Sae also approached with her own message to her twin, which he promised he would deliver. He reiterated his gratitude to her and the staff, and that he was sorry to impose upon them again. It was no trouble, they insisted, and it was fun to have the Shirobeko so lively. Throughout the city, many others had been left with damaged homes, and as it had been with disasters in history, it was the time to come together.

Sagara was attempting to use chopsticks with his left hand, clacking them together. “See you, old man. I’ll be as good as you with one hand, next time we meet.”

“I’m far from an expert.” He humbly said. “Please don’t overexert yourself.”

He did enter Himura’s room one last time, but he was still sleeping. These initial days of recovery would be vital, and Koshijiro hoped he would never receive a telegram bearing bad news.

He took the afternoon train, and his daughter saw him off. “I’ll see you soon.” He intently looked at her.

“Bye.” She huffed but gave him a quick hug before he boarded. And with that, he was alone once more.

Despite the late hour, his first stop was the home of the assistant chief inspector, and Tokio greeted him. Her gaze briefly searched behind him, though she maintained a neutral, polite face. He delivered the facts, that her husband was unaccounted for.

“Have you received any correspondence from him?” He asked.

“No, not since he asked if we could take in Eiji.”

Silence fell over them, the worst possibility left unspoken.

“Did he have any contacts I can reach out to?”

“My husband’s work is highly classified, and I don’t think we are at that point yet. I’m more concerned with why he hasn’t notified me. Nothing can tame a wolf of Mibu, but he comes home if he’s told to. And I told him to come home.” Tokio emphasized. Her gaze was tracked on the horizon, and only the slight trembling of her hands gave away that she was in turmoil.

“You will be the first to know if I hear anything from Kyoto.”

“Thank you, Kamiya-san.” From within the house, Tsutomu whined, and Eiji called out hesitantly to her. She gave a quick bow before hurrying to the children, the door closing behind her.

If…no, when he saw Fujita again, he would have to give him a piece of his mind. Worrying his allies and his own family was too much.

The following morning, he kept his promise to Takani. He sent the information she had provided to the police department in her hometown, requesting for anyone who met the descriptions and to write back to him. In the meantime, he would continue to work, with his lunch break at the Akabeko so he could deliver the letters. Tae thanked him, and Tsubame had turned pink upon reading her paper.

According to recent reports, there was a scavenger in the vicinity of Chinshu Forest, and the station was told to keep an eye out. The younger officers also said there were rumors of a ghost, which Koshijiro ignored. When one of the rookies, Ikehira, went to investigate and confessed he had just missed whoever this scavenger was, but they could set up a perimeter. Koshijiro detoured there on his way home, to see if he could uncover more.

He heard the noises first. Dull scraping, heavy breathing. He kept his hand on his baton, as he drew closer. Near a small shrine, there was a young boy, scrambling in the dirt. He was around Yahiko’s age and he was singularly focused on rearranging the ground. Grass bits and clumps of earth were scattered around him.

“Hello?” Koshijiro called out. “Are you lost?”

The boy turned, and Koshijiro saw that he was a filthy child, as if he had been living in the wilderness. Like an animal, he bared his teeth and ran off. Koshijiro made to follow, but the boy was faster and smaller, disappearing into the brush. Within a few minutes, he could only hear his own footsteps. Unable to pursue any further without venturing into unknown territory, he resorted to finding his way out of the forest, back into town. He had not heard news of a missing boy, so who was that?

Chapter Text

A perimeter had been placed and officers were sent out, though ultimately, the wait wasn’t long. Due to a personnel change, Koshijiro was filling in for jail liaison. It was only for the remainder of the week, until the usual designated officer returned to duty. And thankfully so. The chief jailer was a haughty man, who believed that everyone had something to answer for and would gladly unveil it to the world. He was waxing on about prominent criminals, while guiding Koshijiro through.

In short, conditions were not good. There were puddles from where the roof had leaked, and a dense smell of mold. The cell floors were covered in straw, punctuated with darkened stains. It appeared that the only effort at improving the jail in the last ten years was given to the heavy metal locks. Koshijiro made a mental list, intending to properly document everything later. He recognized most of the surly, staring faces, the gang members that had been apprehended.

“I’ll have this town on a string!” A shout came from further down, and there was a commotion to subdue him. Koshijiro caught a brief glimpse at who it was: glasses set upon a pointed face, oily hair. Takeda Kanryuu was lost in a rant, and fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice Koshijiro as he was struggling against the crowd of officers.

Given the disruption, the tour’s pace was increased, but Koshijiro forced them to a halt. Inside one of the cells, there was the boy from the forest. He seemed calmer than before; in fact, he looked bored with his current situation.

“That’s the lost child.” Koshijiro said. “He was found?”

“Oh, that’s him? He was arrested because he was picking through the trash behind a food stall.”

“And what about his cellmate?” The figure on the opposite end was unfamiliar but just as young. This boy seemed more proper, wearing a small hat and sitting patiently. However, his hopeful eyes never left the men.

“Inoue Aran is from Yoshiwara, a prostitute’s child. We found him trying to stow away on one of the ships bound for America.”

“Do either of them have family?”

“No, Inoue claims his mother died of influenza a few years ago, and the other, Ashitaro, said he was from Hasegawa. We have descriptions from that area, mentioning a notorious thief. So, he was a bad child.”

“All I see is a hungry child. Two, in fact. Take them out of there.”

“But they committed crimes.”

“Then, please show the paperwork to me.” The jailer had to acquiesce, though grudgingly so. Now that he had plenty of experience, Koshijiro could easily locate the loopholes. Before noon, he was walking the boys out, into the summer day.

“Um, thank you so much!” Aran bowed, keeping a tight grip on his hat. “I’m very grateful, Kamiya-san.”

“It was no trouble.”

First and foremost, he informed the station that there was no need to continue the search. Then, he took them back to the dojo, to clean up. Ashitaro needed very little coaxing to jump into the tub, but Aran was a different story. He was fine with scrubbing his hands but adamantly refused anything further.

“I’m already clean, so I don’t need a bath!” It was a blatant lie. The jail gave no regard to hygiene.

Koshijiro studied him. “Please tell me the truth. I won’t punish you, I only want to understand why. Are you afraid of water?”

“N-no…ah, Ashitaro!”

The other boy had slipped just under the water, the surface bubbling. Aran hurried over and pulled Ashitaro by the arm. Ashitaro flailed and splashed, his expression utterly disappointed.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were drowning!”

“I was holding my breath. And what happened to your hair?” Some of the water had reached Aran’s head and as the drops streamed down his face, they left dark trails. In the dim light, Aran’s hair was pale. Very pale.

Aran grabbed the strands, whimpering when he saw his hands came away smeared black. “Okaa-san used to say my father was a foreigner, that I have hair like his. Are you going to throw me out now?”

“No, of course not. My mother-in-law’s hair was quite like yours. Even if your father was a foreigner, you have done nothing wrong. If it makes you feel better, we can dye your hair again. After you bathe.” He pointedly added.

“…okay.” Aran finally agreed. “Do you live by yourself, Ojii-san?”

“No. The rest of my household is in Kyoto and won’t return for some time.”

“What are they doing?” Ashitaro asked. “I was just there a few days ago.”

“They just finished important work, to preserve this country’s safety and peace, and it was a hard-fought battle. I’m not sure how much you noticed if you were in the area. But how did you get from Kyoto to here?”

“I ran. Fast.” He nonchalantly replied, like it was nothing special. Then, he pointed to Koshijiro’s left. “What happened to your arm?”

“Was it a gun?” Aran joined in. “Have you ever used one?”

Their questions occupied the rest of the time spent in the bathhouse, and even while they were getting dressed. The only clothes in their sizes were kenjutsu uniforms, and while Aran picked at the loose threads on his, Ashitaro didn’t seem to mind at all.

“This is a sword school?” Ashitaro surveyed the dojo.

“Yes, this is Kamiya Kasshin, which teaches the use of the sword to protect people. Are you interested in learning?”

He shook his head. “I already have a master. Or had. He’s dead now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“But I know how to use a sword.” He seemed very sure of this. “So I can handle the basics.”

“That’s good to know. Thank you for telling me.” He turned to Aran, who was pulling his hat down over his temples. “What were you using to blacken your hair?”

“Shoe polish.” It must have been contaminated, if it was easily removed by water.

“...let’s try to find a better alternative.” But before they could, the boys’ stomachs loudly called for a detour to the Akabeko.

Tae actually recognized Ashitaro. “I think I’ve seen you once or twice, when I was taking out the trash.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve dug up some of the leftovers. They’re good.”

She blinked at that revelation but quickly recovered. “Well, food tastes much better when it’s freshly made. What would you like? It’s summer, so we have our seasonal menu. Today’s lunch special is somen noodles with side dishes of chilled tofu and goma-ae, vegetables in sesame sauce.” She explained.

It did sound delicious, and three sets were ordered. Ashitaro scarfed down his portion in no time, and that wild look in his eyes returned. His gaze then darted to Koshijiro’s noodles, but Tae was pleased as she brought over another serving. Meanwhile, Aran had noticed Tsubame and attempted to call her over. However, he was stopped by Koshijiro, telling him to leave her to her work. Also, Yahiko would have been grinding his teeth, if he was present.

After the dishes were emptied and cleared, Koshijiro generously tipped Tae. “Thank you, Sekihara-san. Everything was excellent.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She beamed. “Take care! Give everyone in Kyoto my regards, I’m sure Kaoru will be happy to have more students.”

“Well, that hasn’t been finalized yet.”

To be honest, their lack of interest wasn’t very promising. It was becoming likelier and likelier, that Kamiya Kasshin was not the path for them. Aran was more inclined to scholarly pursuits, while Ashitaro needed far more attention than swordsmanship alone could give. Both of them required diligent upbringing, and as much as he was concerned for them, he wasn’t sure whether he could provide that at the moment. As they walked to the market, he continued to ponder over the matter.

“Kamiya-sensei! Is that you?” At the voice, he turned, only to be immediately clapped on the back by a burly figure. A sun-weathered, grizzled face broke into a wide smile. “It’s been a while! Four years?”

When he recovered his breath, Koshijiro greeted the man. “Takeuchi-sensei. I was unaware you were in Tokyo.” Takeuchi had also taught kenjutsu in Chiba, before traveling to Hokkaido to start a new branch. They had attended a few tournaments in the past, and Koshijiro thought highly of the school he regarded as a distant cousin to Kamiya Kasshin. They caught up, with Koshijiro briefly sharing the story of his amputation upon Takeuchi’s puzzled look.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad to see you’re alive. I was visiting the main school, to pay my respects to an old friend who didn’t make it. I’m here until the end of the week, before I return to Hakodate.” He noticed the boys and smiled. “Are these your students?”

Koshijiro quietly explained the situation. Takeuchi hummed, looking over them.

“So, you’re interested in the sword, huh? If you’d like, I can take you with me to Hokkaido. I’m just an old bachelor, but I can teach you how to hunt and fish as well.”

Ashitaro perked up at that. “We can eat the things we catch?”

“It’s harder than you think, but mostly, yes. Would you like to come with me, when I leave on Friday?”

“Sure.”

“…I’ll go if Ashitaro is.” Aran reluctantly agreed.

Given that he was lodging with a friend, Takeuchi was unable to take them before his voyage. But he insisted on giving ‘money for groceries’, depositing a full bag of coins into Aran’s hands. Before Koshijiro could say anything more, his friend was already crossing the street, saying. “I’ll find some warmer clothes for you! See you later!”

“Is he going to come back?” Ashitaro was doubtful.

“He can be impulsive, but he’s honest.” Koshijiro said. “Let’s continue. If either of you find something you like, tell me.”

Hair dye apparently came in miniscule, overpriced bottles. The vendor was a shrewd haggler, under the impression that it was for Koshijiro’s gray hairs. It was slightly annoying.

As he paid for the expensive item, Aran had drifted off to a nearby couple in their thirties, selling books. He was so engrossed in perusing, he didn’t notice the sudden gust of wind. His hat went flying, and he cried out, doubling over to hide. The woman automatically covered his head, as the man chased after the hat. He brushed it off, and he set it more securely over Aran’s head.

Koshijiro rushed over. “Aran-kun, are you alright?”

“Y-yes…” Tears gathered in his eyes, he was so shaken.

“And thank you, for looking after him.” He addressed the couple.

“You’re welcome. Is he your son?” The woman asked.

“No, he’s in my custody for the week. I’m Kamiya.”

The man introduced himself. “I’m Wada Norihiko, and this is my wife, Yuri. Aran-kun, was it? You’re of mixed blood, aren’t you?” The question wasn’t accusatory. “I once had a sister. We were poor then and she was sold. Um…” He swallowed. “If she was sent to the foreign quarters, she could have had a child like you. Where is your mother?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” He rapidly blinked. “Do you not have any family?”

“No one wants me.” Aran tugged at his hat, frowning.

“But even if you’re half foreign, you’re also half Japanese.” The reply was gentle, as his wife knelt to meet Aran at eye-level.

“I’ve met all kinds of people and I’ve learned it doesn’t matter what you look like.” She took his hands. “If you come with us, we’ll look after you and teach you everything we can. This country is beautiful, so please don’t give up on it.”

Koshijiro asked. “Aran-kun? Would you like to stay with Ashitaro-kun, or would you rather travel with this couple?”

He hesitated. “I…I don’t know. I like books, but Ashitaro would be alone…”

“Go.” Ashitaro spoke up. “Don’t worry about me, I like eating more than books. Let’s do what we like on our own, and when we’re older, we’ll meet again.”

“If it’s meant to be, your paths will cross.” Koshijiro added. “And as a wise person once told me, some opportunities only come once, so you should reach out for them.”

“…Alright. I’ll take a good look at this country first, before I head for America.” He still hadn’t given up on his ultimate goal, but this was a better decision than stowing away on another ship.

The couple was currently staying at an inn, but Koshijiro told them to stop by the dojo when they were ready. That evening, Aran blackened his hair again, though the entire bottle was used. He didn’t seem to mind very much, the booksellers’ words ringing true.

The following day, Koshijiro heard there was an incident at the jail. One of the rookies gave the story.

“We found a group trying to break in, but they must have had poison, because the next thing we knew, they were dying.” Tomita grimaced. “Sorry, Kamiya-san. The only person who didn’t commit suicide was the youngest.” She was of a similar age to Ashitaro and Aran. Her name was Kubota Asahi, and that was the only other thing she had said since she had been taken into custody.

“I have arrangements for the other children, I can take her in for the week and see if she’s amenable to joining one of them.”

“Yeah, that’d be great! To be honest, I don’t want her to stay there. It’s no place for a little lady.”

He had to agree, especially with the unpleasant jailer who raved and ranted about breaking and entering. After fifteen minutes, Koshijiro’s patience ran dry and he nonchalantly mentioned the press. The implication of publicity earned him begrudging silence and the keys.

Asahi was a bright-eyed girl with delicate features. She didn’t flinch when Koshijiro unlocked her holding cell. “Am I free to go?”

“You are, but I’d like to find a home for you. I have two boys in my care; one will be going to Hokkaido with a friend of mine and the other will be traveling with a couple who sells books for a living. Would you be interested in joining either of them?”

She shrugged.

The wall of her indifference was a setback. “I’m not sure what other options are there. School, perhaps?”

“School?” She echoed. Obviously, that had caught her interest.

“Would you like to go to school and learn?”

“Ye-” Her gaze clouded over. “Never mind. I can’t read or write.”

Aran’s voice suddenly interrupted. “I can teach you!” He and Ashitaro must have grown bored of waiting, because they were standing in the hallway. “I’m already teaching Ashitaro, we’ve already written his new name.”

On cue, Ashitaro held up a piece of paper, with freshly inked kanji. The ‘bad child’ was now the ‘child of tomorrow’. It was a welcome improvement. “I did it in ten minutes.”

“That’s ten minutes of progress though!” Aran gave it a positive spin. “And even though we’ll be leaving soon, we can go over all the kana before then!”

She seemed receptive, and at last, she nodded. “Then, I’ll join you until I can go to school. I do like the uniforms.”

While Koshijiro endured the administrative work, the three huddled together on a bench. Aran began with the basics, writing hiragana and going over each in turn. For the most part, they were diligent. Asahi did tilt her head at Ashitaro, scrutinizing him, and her focus drew his attention.

He crossed his arms. “What?”

“Hmm. I was supposed to look for someone, but I’m not sure if you’re who he is.” Then, she smiled. “Well, it doesn’t matter now! I’m going to start a new life, and shine!”

It was raining lightly when he completed the paperwork for Asahi’s release, and he held an umbrella over the children. Outside the station, there was a young woman in Western clothing, frowning as she tried to keep her skirt dry under the eaves.

Koshijiro addressed her. “Miss, are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no. I’m just taking shelter for the moment. That’s nice of you to ask though.” She studied his face for a moment, before her features broke into a grin. “Kamiya-jiisan? Do you remember me? Ichikawa Hitomi, from Chiba!”

It had been years, but her voice had not changed very much, now that he listened more. The daughter of a prominent merchant, she was one of Kaoru’s childhood friends. She had moved to Tokyo around the same time the Kamiyas had, before her father’s work summoned her family abroad. She had recently returned to Japan, and she inquired after Kaoru.

“Kyoto?! What happened to her?”

“She’s visiting some ill friends. I’m sorry you missed her, but she’s well. She’s the new master of Kamiya Kasshin.”

“That’s amazing. Tell her I’m happy for her. And who are these little ones? Kaoru’s younger brothers and sister?” She looked at them curiously.

“No, they unfortunately have no family to speak for them. They are temporarily staying with me until Friday. Ashitaro-kun will be living with one of my old friends, while Aran-kun plans to travel with another couple. We are still searching for a place for Asahi-chan.” The girl was staring at Hitomi’s ensemble with wide interested eyes.

“Is that so? I’d take you if I could, but my living situation isn’t stable. My father’s work is about to end, and we’re not sure where we’re moving yet. I hope it’s here, but it wouldn’t be fair to you if we uproot you again. Not to mention we’re rarely home during the day…oh, I’m sorry, little one, but it can’t be helped.” Hitomi noticed Asahi’s slump of disappointment. She impatiently tapped a foot and stared at the gray clouds in thought before exclaiming. “Aha! I have a relative in Yokohama. She’s well-off, but her children are grown and she’s been lonely ever since her husband passed away. She’d like a companion; I think a girl like Asahi would be a good fit. Old enough to not need constant attention, still young enough to be educated. And dressed up! What do you think, Asahi-chan?”

“It sounds nice.” She tried to appear aloof, but her smile couldn’t be stifled.

“Excellent! I’ll send a telegram this afternoon.”

Koshijiro felt very fortunate, to have run into Kaoru’s friend. “That would be very kind of your relative, if she were to accept.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s the gentlest woman I know, I’ve never heard her raise her voice. I’ll do my best to convince her and let you know as soon as possible.” They exchanged contact information, the matter settled. “If I happen to be in town again, I hope to see Kaoru.”

“Thank you, and I think she’d be glad to see you too.” Pleased at how events had turned out, Koshijiro led the three children home. Asahi was given her privacy in the bathhouse, before nightfall. Dinner was fairly quiet, but afterwards, the trio played cards in a fast-paced game. Each round ended with a demand for the next and subsequent reshuffling; he had to remind them multiple times that it was time for bed. However, it was reassuring they were acting their age. Youth was fleeting, after all.

Two mornings later, their time together came to a close. He had already let Takeuchi know that only Ashitaro would be going to Hokkaido, and he had received a telegram from Hitomi’s relative, finalizing the agreement and that there was a nearby girls’ school. After breakfast, he wrote the children’s names on wooden plaques.

“These will remain here, to show that you’re always welcome at the Kamiya dojo. If you are in any trouble or simply want to visit, don’t hesitate to knock.”

For a moment, they stared at him, before they answered in a staggered chorus. “Okay!”

Hitomi met them at Shimbashi Station, to whisk Asahi off to Yokohama. She was in another fine Western outfit, and she gave a note to Koshijiro. “It’s for Kaoru-chan, I’d love to exchange letters with her.”

“I’ll give it to her tomorrow. Thank you again. Asahi-chan, I wish you well.”

Her round eyes blinked at him, before she shyly bowed. “Thank you very much.” As the train pulled away, the girls waved out the window.

Upon their return to the dojo, the Wada couple was already waiting for Aran. He and Ashitaro shook hands, in reminder of their promise. To Koshijiro, he said. “I’ve been practicing my kanji, so I can write too!”

“I look forward to it. Travel safely, Aran-kun.” The new family said their goodbyes, before they continued on their way. Aran only looked back once, but he seemed to have a bounce in his step.

Now, only Ashitaro was left. Koshijiro took the opportunity to broach the topic. “So, when I first saw you, you were in the forest. You appeared rather frantic.”

“I was just keeping something safe. It’s the last thing I have left from my master.” He didn’t seem inclined to share more than that, looking pensive, and Koshijiro did not want to press him further.

Takeuchi met them at the harbor, for he had been gathering his own supplies for the long journey ahead. He set down his bag, wiping sweat off his brow. “Thanks for waiting, Kamiya-sensei.”

“It was no trouble. Have you finished all of your preparations?”

“I did, even in this heat. Phew, it’s killin’ me. Hokkaido’s much cooler than this.” He informed Ashitaro. “Well, have you changed your mind?”

“Nope. I still want to go.”

“Good! Kamiya-sensei, I’ll send a message letting you know we made it.”

“I’d appreciate that. You’re in good hands, Ashitaro-kun, so take care.”

“Thanks. Oh, and uh,” He beckoned Koshijiro closer. “I’ll come back someday, don’t worry!”

He suspected it was for the memento the boy had buried, but he only reiterated. “The Kamiya dojo will always be open for you.”

The horn on their ship blared, and the pair boarded, Takeuchi confidently placing Ashitaro on his shoulders. Their figures disappeared, and soon enough, they were sailing out of Tokyo Bay.

Koshijiro sighed in relief. All three of them would be cared for, and someday, they’d look upon their rough pasts as distant memories. They had been frogs in a well, unaware of the wider world and what it had to offer. Hopefully, they would grow into accomplished young adults.

As he approached home, he almost bumped into a traveler, who quickly moved out of the way. He wasn’t any taller than Himura but he also had the bearing of a swordsman, though only a wooden baton was in his belt. He tipped his conical hat, in apology. “Sorry, sir.” He had a boyish face, unshaven and complete with a wide smile.

“It’s no trouble.” He went to unlock the gate.

The stranger hadn’t left, reading the sign. “This is the Kamiya dojo?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Oh, I see. It really is a nice place.” He gave Koshijiro a thoughtful look, before smiling again. “Goodbye, sir!”

“Goodbye.” It was odd, but there wasn’t any sense of danger around this young man as he headed north.

At the Shirobeko, they were in the waning phase of the lunch rush. Most of the others were out, but Kaoru and Yahiko were helping. They had been given the staff’s uniforms too, complete with aprons. Out of courtesy for the guests, they spoke in the yard.

“I wanted Sano to join us.” The boy griped. Because he wasn’t strong enough yet to carry anything, his only task was wiping down tables. “He always laughs when he sees us wearing…these clothes. But noooo, he said he’d escort Megumi to the hospital, she wanted to do some research and learn more about new medicines.”

“It’s part of her job, so that’s understandable. By the way, this is for you.” He handed over Tsubame’s written reply, which he had picked up that morning, and Hitomi’s to his daughter. “And Kaoru, I happened to meet one of your old friends.”

She read the envelope, her eyes widening. “Hitomi? I thought she went to America. How…?”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to keep you from your responsibilities.”

But Sae, holding her letter from Tae, urged them to take their leave early, the floor was manageable now that it was slowing down. Upstairs would give them some privacy, and they could see Himura.

“He’s much better.” Kaoru said and indeed, he was. 

His bandages had remained in place, but he was propped up on fewer pillows and he inclined his head without any trace of weakness. “How are you, Kamiya-dono?”

“I’ve been well. There wasn’t a dull moment.” He told the story of the three children, from the initial encounter in the woods to safely seeing them off.

“I really thought they would have made good students, but I understand.” Kaoru conceded. “Yahiko, I guess you’re still the only one for now.”

“Uh-huh.” He was distracted, discreetly reading Tsubame’s letter ever since the Akabeko was mentioned. Then, he refolded it and stood up. “Er, I’m gonna go buy something. A snack.”

“You just ate.” She pointed out.

“And I’m hungry again after working!”

“This is a restaurant, we always have food here!”

“Not the kind I’m looking for!” He rushed out, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

“How much do you want to bet, that he’s actually finding a souvenir for Tsubame-chan?” She shook her head.

“He most likely is.” Himura gave a light laugh, as much as he could with his wounds.

“He’s too much. Anyway, I should write back to Hitomi. Let me do that, before I forget.” She excused herself, leaving the two of them with each other.

Fortunately, Himura spoke first. “Kamiya-dono, this one did not say so before, but thank you for your work in Tokyo.”

“It was all I could do at home, even if it was unnecessary in the end.”

“Did Eiji-kun arrive safely?”

“Yes, he did. It is concerning that the man who sent him has disappeared, though it doesn’t seem like he’s dead.”

“No.” He agreed. “This one believes Saito has his reasons for acting alone. In the Shinsengumi, he was responsible for uncovering spies. During and after the war, he lost even more of his comrades, and they still lost. From his suffering, he has become hardhearted and devoted to his work.”

“Work is productive, but it’s not the cure. The true remedy for loneliness is to have people around you, who truly care for you and to be cared for in turn.” Koshijiro answered. “Kaoru reminded me of that, after my wife passed away.”

“Kaoru-dono has reminded this one as well.” Himura lowered his gaze, smiling to himself.

Before he could segue into asking about Himura’s intentions, the door opened. He expected Kaoru, but instead, he looked up into the cheerful face of Makimachi.

“Hello, Kamiya-san! I couldn’t help overhearing, but I totally agree with you. That’s why I’m still writing notes for Aoshi-sama.”

“Has he recovered a little?”

Her smile froze. “Well...we’re getting there.”

Himura kindly changed the subject. “Kamiya-dono, if you saw Eiji-kun, you must have met Saito’s wife.”

“Oh, yeah! What did she look like?!” Makimachi demanded. “Was she a Bodhisattva?”

Would a Bodhisattva have drawn a pistol on him? “She seemed strong-willed and kind enough to take in a young boy of no relation. What’s the reason for your impression?”

“She married Saito. Of course, she’d have to be a saint to put up with him!”

Himura was serious too. “That’s the only way their marriage would have lasted.”

Confused, Koshijiro said. “I have never seen them together, but she’s certainly patient.”

“What are you even talking about?” Kaoru had returned, and after she was brought to speed, she was just as surprised. “Eh?! He’s married?”

Koshijiro had not written of Tokio or her son, to protect them. “His wife also expressed admiration for you, since she heard you’re the head of the school now.”

“Geez, is that what people are saying?” But she blushed, and Himura noticeably directed his smile towards her.

Sagara and Takani returned in the late afternoon, along with Yahiko, who had a small wrapped package he was desperately trying to hide as he sprinted to the upper floor.

“Quick, let’s guess on what it is.” Sagara grinned. His arm was still in its sling, with ‘evil’ to match the one on his back. “Maybe, it’s a painting? Tsubame-chan likes art.”

“Mizu yokan would still be good, even until we return.” Takani was sure it was the traditional agar sweet.

“If it’s food, it could be konpeito.” Kaoru played along, naming the star-shaped confection. “What do you think, Otou-san?”

“Perhaps, a toy. They haven’t outgrown such things yet.” He wasn’t confident though.

Makimachi had been listening with interest. “Oh? Yahiko-kun’s got a sweetheart in Tokyo?” By the mischievous gleam in her eyes, she was planning to hold the information over his head.

While the rest went to wash up for the evening, Takani spoke in an aside to Koshijiro. “Has there been any news from Aizu?”

“Not yet. I was notified that they received the information, but nothing beyond that. Dr. Gensai also gives his regards, and that everyone is in good hands.” The doctor was working as usual, though he lamented that it was easier with Takani around to help patients.

She was crestfallen at first, but she squared her shoulders. “I won’t be satisfied until they’re back to full strength. When we return, there are some formulations I’d like to discuss with Dr. Gensai.”

The Akabeko’s summer special must have been inspiring, because a similar menu was offered, with the seasoning adjusted to the liking of the Kyoto denizens. In order to make room for the Shirobeko’s customers, their group had dinner in the upstairs hallway. Himura was also able to partake, by leaving his door open. Kaoru was sitting next to him, in case he spilled something. Koshijiro deliberately took her other side, to her obvious displeasure, and he was close enough to hear their conversation. She was telling him about Yahiko’s gift, describing the box’s appearance so he could make his own guess.

“The most likely options seem to have been taken.” Himura gave his harmless smile. “This one can only think of paper, since we have exchanged so many letters.”

“That’s pretty good, actually.” Kaoru was encouraging.

Yahiko was too far to hear them, and he was more focused on eating anyway. Sagara hadn’t achieved his goal; he was forced to use a spoon after dropping his second pair of chopsticks and scowled as he shoveled food into his mouth. Takani was stacking some of the plates, her expression neutral from inward contemplation. The Oniwabanshuu had taken point by the top of the stairs; repairs had begun at the Aoiya and they would be moving to a closer location tomorrow.

Makimachi insisted that she would still be visiting. “And when the Aoiya reopens, you can come stay with us!”

“Sounds good to me.” Yahiko was eager at the prospect of not wearing an apron. “If we can move Kenshin.”

“That may not be for some time.” Takani warned. “And the rooster-head is also trying to push his boundaries too early.”

“Oi! I’m getting better!”

Kaoru interrupted. “Well, at the rate Kenshin’s recovering, we might only be here until the end of the month. When it gets closer to then, why don’t you just stay for a few days, Otou-san? It’s easier than traveling back and forth.”

“I’ll consider it when you’ve settled on a departure date. The most important thing is that everyone recovers.”

“But if you do stay, we’ll take you on a tour of Kyoto!” Makimachi offered. “Right, Jiiya?”

Okina stepped towards them, so he didn’t have to raise his voice. “Yes, definitely. Have you ever visited before all of this happened?”

“Over ten years ago, when the shogun’s forces first reached Toba.” According to the staff, that ward was some distance away from the Shirobeko.

“You were there as well, Kamiya-dono. This one was on the frontlines.” Himura quietly remarked, and familiar pain surged in his expression.

“Is that so? You most likely had the worst of it. I was further back, with others from Chiba.” Among the thousands of men, he had not glimpsed a redhead at all. When he tried to think back, there was a crowd of bloodied faces, screaming-

“It’s better that we’ve met now.” Kaoru’s gentle words stopped the flow of memories, and she raised her bowl. “And we’re still working hard, so we should eat before it gets cold!” She resumed taking bites of her dinner, and Koshijiro followed her cue. As expected of his daughter, she knew how to bring the present back to awareness. It evidently worked on Himura too, because he blinked and renewed his grasp on his spoon. He glanced at Kaoru, the corner of his mouth pulling in a soft smile.

Then, Shinomori’s door opened, and his tall figure stood at the threshold, drawing everyone’s attention. The only noise was the background clamor of the dining area.

“Aoshi-sama!” Makimachi scrambled to her feet, almost knocking over her cup. “U-um, how are you? Are you hungry? Do you need anything? Or were we too loud?”

The questions came in a torrent, but he didn’t seem to mind. In a low voice, he said. “I thought I could join for dinner. If I’m not interrupting.”

“You aren’t! Yahiko-kun, move aside. Can we get another plate?” She searched among the scattered dishes for a clean one.

Shinomori sat on his heels, just outside of his room, and his head was bowed as he accepted his portion. But this was a start. Makimachi was brimming with nervous energy, obviously happy at his appearance and afraid of scaring him away.

“Aoshi, it is good to have you with us.” In Okina’s face, there was only relief. Behind him, the Oniwabanshuu exchanged hopeful looks.

He didn’t respond at first, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was ignoring his mentor. “…I’ve made mistakes. I haven’t found a new path yet.”

“There’s no rush!” Makimachi was quick to reassure him. “Take your time, especially since we won and we’re overseeing the Aoiya’s repairs. So, you can just heal up and meditate and join us for dinner every night!”

He gave the barest of nods, his gaze flitting to her and then Okina. He never fully met either of their gazes.

“Ooh, and because the city was under threat, the Tanabata festival was pushed back a couple weeks. We should all go!” That led to a discussion about the upcoming event, and the Kyoto side enthusiastically described past celebrations before cleaning up.

As they prepared to turn in for the night, Koshijiro retrieved Kaoru’s letter, as well as Sae’s. Yahiko reported that he didn’t have anything at the moment; he was obviously saving his gift to deliver it personally.

“Just tell Tsubame that I’m doing alright and thanks.”

“Very well. Sagara-san, would you like me to take anything to Tokyo?”

“Nah, I’m good. Wait, actually, if you could find one of Katsu’s newspapers, I’d appreciate it.”

Considering it was criticizing the government, a copy would be difficult to find. “I’ll see what I can do, or I can pay him a visit, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Katsu doesn’t really like to be bothered, and he doesn’t know you that well. So, you don’t have to. It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.” He gracelessly flopped onto his futon. “With so much going back and forth, can’t you just take that vacation now?”

“I’m fine, and I was occupied, so I never formally requested time off. I also need to have my hair trimmed.”

His daughter couldn’t help overhearing, and she peered out of the girls’ room to enthusiastically offer. “Otou-san, let me do it! It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you, Kaoru.” He followed her instructions, sitting in the hall with a bedsheet tied around his neck. She had procured the scissors from downstairs, and with a cheerful attitude, she prepared to cut.

“How much do you want off?”

“Perhaps, this should be enough.” He placed two fingers’ width against his hairline.

“Alright!” She began to hum a spontaneous melody, and he was reminded of how decades ago, his mother had done the very same thing. Pretend to be a statue, she’d order, before singing to distract him.

“I found a picture of your grandmother. Your grandfather’s work.”

“Really? I can’t wait to see it, Ojii-san used to tell stories about her. Like how they met when he was sleeping by the river, and she poked him with a stick, because he was getting in the way of the local fishers. I thought that was funny.”

“He told you that, when you were little?” He had been unaware of that tale, until he was a teenager.

“Otou-san, keep looking straight ahead. Yeah, I was practicing my sewing and I hated pricking myself with the needle. But Ojii-san was trying to be encouraging, so he mentioned Obaa-san’s talent and I was curious about what she was like.”

Himura was still awake, his door ajar. He had not spoken, but his eyes showed keen interest, and Koshijiro filled him in. “My mother was not my father’s wife, and she primarily worked as a seamstress. Their relationship was affectionate but complicated by their differences in social status.”

“Ah, so that was your reason for fighting against the shogunate?” He remembered their conversation, after the late Minister Okubo had visited the dojo.

“Yes. Even if my parents’ story had reached a final conclusion, I believed change was still necessary for the future.” The cut strands were tickling his face as they fell, and he resolved to remain still, closing his eyes. “As for the picture, I left it on the altar.”

There was some rustling as Himura addressed Kaoru. “It sounds as if you take after your grandmother, Kaoru-dono. Especially in approaching strangers for the first time.”

At this teasing, she exclaimed. “Geez, Kenshin! You had to bring that up again!”

“This one couldn’t help remembering.” He gave a soft laugh.

That must have been an allusion, but Koshijiro couldn’t think of what instance Himura was referring to, and he was further prevented from asking.

“Otou-san, don’t talk or you’ll get a mouthful of your own hair.” So, he feigned being a statue, as the scissors moved around the circumference of his head. Finally, Kaoru seemed satisfied at her handiwork and untied the bedsheet, gathering the clippings. “There we go! How is it?”

“It’s much better.” His head felt a great deal lighter, and he brushed off the dark and silvery bits that had escaped. “You did an excellent job.”

“Really? Then, I can trim Kenshin’s bangs too!” She beamed at him. “If you want, of course.”

His answer was immediate. “This one would like that very much.”

That sounded a little too warm for Koshijiro’s liking, and he interrupted them. “Tomorrow, if that’s going to happen. It’s already late.” Thankfully, neither of them protested, but it still took longer than usual to fall asleep.

At sunrise, the Oniwabanshuu moved out, with noiseless footsteps despite the weight of their belongings. Makimachi’s whispered “See you soon!” was the only audible indication of their departure, and then, there was no trace of them at all.

After breakfast, Takani made a request. “Now that Ken-san’s over the worst, we can start rehabilitating him. I’ll need all of your help.”

Under her instructions, they gathered around Himura and proceeded to lead him through exercises. They appeared simple on the surface, but the motions tested the limits of his range and strength. He pushed his feet against Sagara’s palms, and then tried to break the circle of Yahiko’s forearms with his own.

“Keep going, Kenshin!” Sagara cheered him on.

“Yeah…you’re still the strongest…” Yahiko huffed and puffed, as he valiantly tried to backtrack, serving as a counterpoint. Himura’s brow was furrowed, he could sense that he had atrophied from bedrest.

Koshijiro’s task was easy enough. His open hand served as a reachable target and moved to a new spot in midair, every time Himura’s callused fingers touched. His movement was restricted on the right, Koshijiro noticed, where Shishio had barbarically bit off a portion of flesh. “I know it’s frustrating, but your body’s still healing. You’re doing well.”

“Thank you, Kamiya-dono.”

When it was Kaoru’s turn, she sat at the end of the futon and held out her hands. “Okay, you can sit up now!”

He did, leaning his upper body forward and stretching his fingertips towards her. He wasn’t close enough to touch her and with an exhale, he relaxed back on the pillows before trying again. “Kaoru-dono, you were further than this one thought.”

“But you got closer than I expected. You’re doing really good.” She smiled. In response, he glanced up, locking their gazes.

Abruptly, Yahiko nudged her shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you share that story about your fight? I’m the only one here who was around for it.”

“Oh, right!” She launched into the retelling. “Misao and I faced off against Kamatari, the one with the scythe. It was tricky, but one of her kunai added extra force to my bokuto-”

“Your bokuto? Yahiko said you used your shinai.” Koshijiro wondered aloud about this discrepancy.

“No, I was using the wooden sword then, and the naginata at night. But Yahiko was practically unconscious after his duel, so he might have missed some of the details.”

“I saw the last half!”

“Even if you did, your eyes were barely open.” Behind her, he scowled, as she continued. “Anyway, after breaking the scythe, I was left with only the hilt. So, guess what I did, Otou-san!”

“Tsuka no Gedan: Hiza Hishigi.” He nodded. “And how was it?”

“It worked, I aimed for Kamatari’s knee and I felt it shatter as the hilt split. I wanted to stop Kamatari, but I didn’t expect the technique to be that powerful.” She didn’t sound ashamed, just reflective.

“Usually, in someone with a proper stance, it would be a greater challenge. This was always meant to be a last resort, when your opponent is also weakened and cannot be incapacitated otherwise. Your judgment was sound, and your success is proof of your determination to protect the people here.”

“It’s a ballsy move though.” Sagara grinned. “I like it!”

“Of course, you would. You shatter bones on a regular basis, including your own.” Takani’s words were biting.

The threat of another quarrel was ended by Himura’s question, in between his repetitive motions. “Were you hurt, Kaoru-dono? You must have been close to Kamatari and the scythe.”

“Misao hurt her ribs earlier on, but I wasn’t hit too badly. Nowhere near as severe as your injuries. Ah, Kenshin!” Their fingers had brushed, and she was excited. “See? I wasn’t that far at all.”

“No, you weren’t.” He was slightly out of breath, but his eyes were bright with satisfaction as his hands gradually crept over hers. His strength hadn’t flagged at all, which was encouraging. The next step was to leave his room, and he was looking forward to it. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, Kenshin!” Sagara held out his left hand. “Grab on!”

Koshijiro did the same, but with his right. Kaoru supported Himura from behind, and Yahiko ensured they had a clear path as he counted down.

“One. Two. Three!”

Together, they pulled Himura to his feet and he swayed at first, but he was standing upright. “Thank you.”

Like lightning, a flash of inspiration struck Koshijiro. That kind of move…it would require precision, confidence, and a discerning eye. But with the necessary skill, it would certainly be possible. And it could only be performed with one arm. If he could make this sequence work, it would be a suitable succession technique for the one-handed variant of Kamiya Kasshin. He would have to test it out in the dojo, before talking to Kaoru.

And they had to finish Himura’s exercises. Each step was deliberate, as they guided him into the hallway. He was holding steady, but as expected, he was slower. Given the cramped space, only one person could help Himura at this point.

“It’s gotta be Jou-chan.” Sagara insisted. He was decidedly not making eye contact with Koshijiro. “The old man and I would lose our balance, and Yahiko’s too short.”

“I am not!” He was indignant, as Kaoru gingerly approached Himura’s side.

“Kenshin, is this okay with you?”

“Of course, Kaoru-dono. This one will be in your care.” And then, he looped his arm around her shoulders.

“S-sure. Let me know if you need a break.” Her fingers slid over the front of his shoulder, to support him. There was color in her face, and that ambiguous smile on his.

Koshijiro leaned against the wall, watching them. With Kaoru’s assistance, Himura was able to walk the expanse of the upper floor. Though the turns required some maneuvering, the laps became successively smoother. They looked natural, as if they hadn’t been doing this for more than twenty minutes.

“You’re doing great! Should we try the stairs?” Sagara suggested.

Takani shook her head. “Not yet! It’s too risky. What if he fell?”

“Well, we’d catch him.”

“That wasn’t my point; falling in the first place should be avoided!” By now, Himura was tiring, and she forced an end to the exercise. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Good work, everyone.”

It was raining, not a downpour yet, but Koshijiro insisted he would go alone to the station. If any of them caught a summer cold, he’d blame himself. He kept a brisk pace through the darkening streets, and the air was heavy with moisture. At least, there wasn’t lightning or thunder yet.

A voice floated over. “Bored of staying in the dojo by yourself?”

He spun around, and in one of the alleyways, the glowing ember of a cigarette illuminated the face of the assistant chief inspector. “Fujita-san?”

“There’s no one from the Tokyo police here. ‘Saito’ is fine.” He exhaled a plume of smoke. “You’ve put your interference to good work.”

It was probably the closest to a ‘thank you’ he could muster, but it was good to see that he was alive and well. “Is there anything else I can do, Saito-san?”

“Not now. I’m in the process of bringing someone new on board. When he’s ready, I may send him to you.”

“Will you not be returning?”

The rain intensified with a sudden gust, and his words were nearly drowned out. “Later. I’ve already let Tokio know.”

“You owe her an apology, for worrying her.”

“She wouldn’t have known, if you hadn’t said anything.” He grimaced as he tapped the ashy end off.

Koshijiro couldn’t deny it. “I’m sorry.”

There was a mutter. “An apology would keep the house peaceful.”

“If you’re sincere.”

“She can tell. But enough of that. Catch your train, and I need to continue my investigation.” He stamped out the cigarette, about to leave. 

“You owe the others a sincere apology too.” Koshijiro delivered his parting words.

Saito didn’t reply, but his gloved hand lifted in a leisurely acknowledgement, as he walked away.

Tokio was not surprised to see Koshijiro, and she confirmed that her husband had made contact. “He was late, but I’m grateful he’s alright.” She invited him inside, where the boys were having dinner. Upon his entry, Tsutomu openly stared, rice grains stuck to his cheeks. The messy eating reminded him of when Kaoru was that age, and he smiled.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Eiji shook his head. “It’s fine. Oh, I’ve got something for Kenshin.” He was about to stand, but Tokio reminded him to finish his meal first. He scarfed down what was left and presumably headed for his room. Momentarily, his footsteps grew louder again, and he reappeared with a bamboo basket, of a size to carry fruit. “My brother taught me how to make one. It’s thanks for defeating Shishio.”

“Thank you, I’m sure he’ll appreciate your gift. I’ll take it home, so when he returns, he’ll be able to use it.” As he accepted it, he noticed the weaving was sturdy and even. “How have you been?”

“I’m happy that Shishio’s dead. That’s justice.” He paused. “But he wasn’t the only one. He had the Ten Swords, and everyone on the lower levels of his organization. When Saito-san comes back, I’ll help him slay evil.”

The assistant chief inspector’s creed had rubbed off on Eiji, but it wasn’t a bad motivation to have. “Hopefully, that will be soon.” Given that Tsutomu was fidgeting and burying his face in Tokio’s sleeve, Koshijiro didn’t overextend his stay. Basket in hand, he excused himself.

Tokio saw him to the door, a slight smile on her face. “Thank you for acting on my husband’s behalf. We must have troubled you.”

“Not at all. I’m afraid I was the one who did, in giving you premature news, and I apologize.”

“I would rather have been mistaken, than uninformed.” She smoothly replied, adding. “And I’ll have a word with him anyway.” The glint in her eyes was foreboding. Indeed, Saito was in store for an earful.

The following morning, he realized the kitchen supplies needed to be replenished and after work, he headed further into town. He also needed to deliver the reply to Kaoru’s friend. With all of the recent events, he had neglected checking the mail. There usually wasn’t anything, but this time, a brief letter was addressed specifically to him. It was from Kikuhara, and over a year had passed since Koshijiro last heard from him. His curiosity regarding how much his old friend knew was quickly answered.

Kamiya-sensei,

Earlier this year, I was informed by Maekawa-sensei that you had fallen in Satsuma, and fortunately before I could depart from Echigo, he clarified that this was not true. I cannot imagine what you must be feeling. How have you been coping?

Midori and I pray for the good health of you and your daughter. If there is anything I can do to assist, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Your friend,

Kikuhara

He would have to write back today, to reassure Kikuhara. Over time, their correspondence had dwindled to the annual New Year’s card, but he wondered how he was faring. Although the circumstances could have been better, this was an opportunity to catch up. He continued on his way, buying what was needed. Kombu, salt, soy sauce, rice vinegar. The various passersby and shop owners had noticed that he was alone, calling out.

“Hey, Kamiya-san! When’s Kaoru-chan coming back?”

“And what about Himura-san? We heard he left town, but isn’t she chasing after him?”

He hadn’t known they were such a topic of gossip. “Himura-san was found, but due to circumstances, he’s currently recovering. Kaoru and the rest of her friends are with him, and they’ll return soon.” He believed that would be enough to satisfy their curiosity, but he was proven wrong when stopping by the Maekawa dojo.

Immediately, he was bombarded with inquiries. On the surface, the students seemed congenial, but he caught jealousy in more than a few gazes when he provided the short version of the story. Maekawa arrived about halfway through, but he must have heard plenty, because he offhandedly remarked. “So, are there talks of an engagement?”

He gave a deadpan stare. “Maekawa-sensei, please.”

His friend burst into laughter. “You should see your face, Kamiya-sensei! Quick, someone get a photographer!”

Joking aside, the students began practice with their recently promoted assistant instructors. They were capable young men, around Takani’s age. One was already married, the other finalizing an agreement with the family of his intended. To Koshijiro’s knowledge, both were taught by the Maekawas’ adopted son, who had moved to the branch school in Hino with his wife. Judging from the students’ vigor, it seemed the main dojo had recovered from the incident in spring, though there weren’t any new faces.

“Now then, you didn’t say ‘there isn’t anything of the sort’ like last time. Things must have changed, haven’t they?” Maekawa stroked his beard.

Koshijiro didn’t answer right away, attempting to evade. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“Don’t deny it! You’ve warmed up to Himura-san. A few months ago, you would have been grimacing like a demon. And he’s a good man. My students and I are indebted to him and Kaoru-sensei for stopping Isurugi Raijuuta. He’d fit right into Kamiya Kasshin.”

“I’ve considered that, but he hasn’t explicitly said he wants to join.” He paused. “Or whether he’s interested in settling down in Tokyo. He wandered into town at the beginning of the year, he is still a boarder.” Now that he’d spoken it aloud, he realized how little Himura had spoken of his personal background. Yes, he was a veteran and a swordsman, but who were his parents? What did they do? Did he have siblings? Did he have another family, any children? To be fair, Himura had never been asked, though he was adept at household chores. Koshijiro shook his head, setting his curiosity aside for the time being. “Anyway, Kaoru is the head instructor and she’s in charge.”

Maekawa chuckled. “Well, there’s nothing to worry about. You’ve entrusted her with such responsibility, and she’s earned it. You should be proud. For the past eight years, you’ve raised her on your own. Kyoko-san would surely be happy at how she turned out, as well as Motomiya-sensei and his wife.”

The intent was kind, but he wasn’t so sure about his in-laws. Motomiya-sensei had never taken a female student, and he hadn’t fully understood Shio-san, yet he wouldn’t have blamed her if she resented kenjutsu. Kyoko, however…it was simple to conjure her content smile, her voice telling him ‘you did well, dear, I’m glad’. He softly said. “I’ve done the best I could, and Kyoko’s words have helped throughout the years. Kaoru’s grown on her own too, since she’s been away from home.”

“You’re still reluctant to give her away as a bride though.”

“It was good talking with you, but I have some tasks to finish today.” Koshijiro made a hasty exit, to the sound of Maekawa’s hearty laughter. But he felt somewhat better and his reply to Kikuhara was finished easily.

With an early dinner, he reserved the evening for kenjutsu. Once he had finished the usual stretches, he practiced the new succession technique. Slowly at first, with deliberation. Feeling out the motions, ensuring control and fluidity. In order to pull this off, he needed to be absolutely grounded, so he wouldn’t buckle. Every repetition was an adjustment from the last, and little by little, he became confident enough for a simulation. He didn’t have a sparring partner, but that was also the case when he developed Hadome. He used the same tactic as he had then: envisioning an opponent. Imagination was only one element. It was necessary to have years of experience, learning from each unique fight and predicting maneuvers, down to the precise angle and amount of force.

The lantern in one corner was enough to illuminate the dojo, as he focused solely on breathing. In this quiet space, his senses were honed to their peak. When he lifted his gaze, he found the phantom. An outline, flickering across the dojo, but unlike his shadow, it was gone in the next heartbeat. The air felt weighted, as if another person really was here.

Without hesitation, he began the kata. Forward strike, three steps, neutral stance adjusted for his vulnerable left side. Switch his grip for a reverse block, switch back to standard grip. The first thrust, swift and powerful, aimed for the base of the throat. He could almost sense the resistance of the phantom, in the wavering candlelight. Progressing through the sequence, he was building up to the move he had thought of in Kyoto. Then, he retreated. Waited. In his mind’s eye, the phantom returned, raising its weapon towards him. As countless others had, and the memories consolidated into the outline, bringing it to life-

He met it head on and braced. No real impact, but his ears rang in anticipation for the crack of colliding bamboo. He stood still, analyzing. It hadn’t been a poor attempt, yet he could improve the position, so his arm was more stable. He started over and continued like this, for nearly another hour, until the lantern sputtered. Taking that as his cue, he lowered his shinai to his side and bowed. What he wanted to accomplish was definitely possible, and he’d keep it a secret until he was ready to demonstrate.

The week was over in an instant, but significant progress had been made in Kyoto. Himura was able to walk around the grassy patch behind the restaurant, with a cane and Kaoru alongside him. Notably, his bangs were trimmed, no longer covering his eyes.

“Ah, Otou-san!” She happily waved. “Look, Kenshin’s already on his feet!”

“Yes, I can see that you look much better.” He said to Himura. “The exercises have been helping.”

“They have, and Kaoru-dono has supported this one the whole time.” They weren’t touching now, but the distance between them was less than an arm’s length.

“Have you fallen?”

“No, this one hasn’t.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Kaoru, you can keep pace further away.”

“Otou-san!” She scowled, color rising in her cheeks. “Nothing happened, okay?!”

As they completed another lap, the others came out to join them, including a familiar pair who had just arrived as well. “Hello, hello! We’re back!” Makimachi exuberantly greeted them, with Shinomori acting as her shadow.

“The Aoiya’s already done with repairs?” Yahiko tilted his head. “After a week?”

“Nope, but I didn’t want to stick around. Too much hammering, you know? Aoshi-sama thought so too.” The sole indication that this was true was a slow blink from her companion. “He’s used to meditating upstairs, and he’ll have Himura-san for company. Also, I thought we’d go shopping! Just us girls, for yukata. You didn’t bring your own, right?”

“I didn’t think I needed mine.” Kaoru glanced at the doctor. “Megumi?”

“Well, I never had many belongings since coming to Tokyo.” She slowly replied, her gaze lowered in self-consciousness.

Makimachi’s jaw dropped. “Eh?! Then, that’s all the more reason! Kyoto has wonderful textiles, I’ll show you!”

“That’d be great, Misao. Megumi, we’ll definitely find something for you.” Kaoru firmly said.

“If you insist.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, but she looked pleased.

Sae approached them, holding a piece of paper. “Are you heading out? I’ll come with you, I need to visit a couple of our suppliers before the rush.” There was some bustling, as they prepared to leave, but just as they were grouped together, a party of twelve arrived for lunch.

“Tch, we aren’t serving yet.” Yahiko crossed his arms behind his head, pivoting for the kitchen. “I’ll buy time and get their drinks!”

“Sae-san, don’t worry. The old man and I will go and get your stuff.” Sagara volunteered. “Between us, we have two good arms.” He did have a point and Sae was very grateful, jotting down the directions and adding the Shirobeko’s stamp as a sign of permission.

Accepting the list, Koshijiro followed Sagara on their impromptu trip. It was warm and humid, but not uncomfortable. “Red perilla and ginger at the first stop, amanatsu at the second.”

“Amanatsu, huh? What are those?”

“They’re a citrus fruit, like mikan and yuzu. Have you never had one?”

“Maybe I have, I’ll have to see what they look like. I’ve eaten a bunch of things over the years, though I gotta say, I’m definitely not looking forward to Jou-chan’s cooking when we get back!” He laughed.

“She wouldn’t be pleased if she heard that.” In response, he received a heavy clap on the back. Friendly, by Sagara’s standards.

“I’m just kidding. It’s easy to poke fun at her, she reminds me of my own little sister. They’re about the same age too.”

That was news to Koshijiro. “I was unaware you had one.”

“Yeah, she’s probably still living with my parents. And maybe, I have another sibling or two. I don’t know.” He was contemplative for a moment, before shrugging. “Anyway, I haven’t heard from them since I left.”

“You’ve never visited them, in the ten years since?”

“Nope. My old man and I had a big fight.” Even as a child, Sagara must have been rebellious. “He told me that if I went to the Sekihoutai, I should forget I had a family. So, that was the end of it.”

It was hard to discern whether this was truly abuse or a terrible argument. “How did your mother react?”

“My sister was crying, so she was trying to calm her down. She must have thought it would blow over; too bad she was wrong.”

“Ten years is a long time, and you had only lived half your life then.” Koshijiro said. “However, I cannot speak for your family, and you are the one who knows them and yourself best. Whether you decide to see them again or not, that’s up to you.”

“Yeah.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Well, are we almost there?”

“Soon. It should be around this corner.” The store was small, but customers were already lining up. The heat was beginning to intensify, causing dampness to gather under their sleeves. The owner was kind enough to accommodate Koshijiro, procuring a cloth bag for the knobby roots and bundle of dark red leaves.

Two blocks down, the sweet tangy aroma of ripe citrus permeated the air. The overflowing stalls had summoned a crowd, and the wait was significantly longer. The Shirobeko’s amanatsu were filled to the top of a sack, which Sagara lifted without fuss. “I’ve had a couple of these, like three or four years ago? They’re good.”

“Were you in Tokyo at the time?”

“I was mostly on the outskirts.” He clarified, as they wove through the people, stepping onto the main street once more. “Not really in the city, I was trying not to get arrested. I’ve been in jail before; there are a couple of small towns I can’t go back to.”

“For being in fights?”

“Yeah, but these latest ones were the best of my life!” His keen gaze fixed upon the sky, his mouth quirking.

“You’re already looking forward to the next.”

“Can’t wait until my hand heals up. I’ve met plenty of strong people, thanks to Kenshin. The Oniwabanshuu, Anji, Saito…” He trailed off, his brows drawing together in renewed concern.

Koshijiro glanced around and lowered his voice. “You no longer have to search for Saito-san. He’s alive, continuing his work.”

“Really?! I knew it, we never did find his body.” His mood had completely flipped, his grin was triumphant. “Do I have to keep it a secret from the others?”

“We can tell them, but only so they don’t have to worry.”

“Gotcha…he didn’t tell us, that bastard. He could have at least shown his face to the rest of us!” Relief had given way to an angry rant. “Work, my ass. That’s not an excuse, I bet he’s lying.”

“He didn’t provide all the details and he’s never been forthright.” Koshijiro conceded. “However, I do think he’s slightly changed from when he was first assigned to our department. Not exactly trusting…more considerate of his allies, I suppose. Otherwise, he would have continued on his own path and we wouldn’t have heard from him for months.”

“Kenshin would say something like that too.” He grumbled, before his tone became serious again. “Hey, why do you hate Kenshin so much?”

Taken aback, he said. “I don’t hate him.”

“Then, why do you insist on keeping him and Jou-chan apart? How did the rule start?”

“I came home to find my daughter living with a redheaded stranger, and they were overly familiar with each other. Himura-san also said something that was misinterpreted, which was my fault. In those early days, I was still wary, so I made the rule.”

“So it all began with one bad first impression?” Sagara adjusted the sack on his shoulder. “Well, I met Kenshin because I wanted to fight him. I was kinda pushy too, I blocked you from going to the rest of the police. Guess I didn’t come off that great either. Huh…”

Actually, had anyone in their group ever made a favorable first impression on Koshijiro? Yahiko and Takani had disrespected Kaoru. Shinomori had trespassed, and Makimachi had stolen from him. This wasn’t even getting into the assistant chief inspector or Himura’s master.

“But we’re all friends now. Does that mean you’ll get rid of the rule?”

“Now that I know how Kaoru feels, no. There needs to be someone who can ensure they are acting with propriety, and it certainly wasn’t occurring while I was gone.”

Sagara rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “You’re just being stubborn. Even if Jou-chan gets pregnant, Kenshin isn’t the kind of guy who would abandon her.”

Koshijiro abruptly froze, staring into the middle distance.

“…oi. Old man? Uh…Kamiya-san! Snap out of it…shit!”

“Sorry, Jou-chan. I think I broke your dad.”

“What?! What happened? Otou-san!”

“Kamiya-dono, are you alright?”

“Hey, Sano, where’d you get a sculpture of Kamiya-san?”

“What fresh idiocy did you do this time, rooster head?”

“Oh man, this is too funny!”

“…”

“All of you, stand back. It seems you need my help.”

A cork popped. Incredibly strong sake poured down Koshijiro’s throat and he spluttered. He could register his surroundings; the yard behind the Shirobeko was certainly cramped with their group, including the owner of the sake jug. As his burning throat recovered, he heard that sardonic voice again.

“See? Cured.”

Disgruntled at Hiko’s reappearance, he asked. “You’re still here?”

“I’m dropping off a commission, because it’s too delicate to entrust to anyone else down the mountain. While I was here, I decided to be generous enough to check on my idiot apprentice.”

From Himura’s annoyed expression, he didn’t think it was generous at all. “Shishou, your ‘check’ has already been an hour.”

“If you’re able to say that, you can end your break and continue your little exercises.” Hiko waved him off.

The alcohol was starting to affect him, and he had to sit down. The grass was dry, the earth solid underneath his legs. Takani took his pulse, frowning. “You’re not overly warm. I don’t think it was the heat and I doubt you had a stroke.”

“I assure you, the cause wasn’t medical.”

“Then, what happened?”                                 

He wasn’t willing to disclose Sagara’s poor joke or even think about it again, so he deflected. “Nothing of importance.”

“Sorry, old man. Guess I know now, it won’t happen again.” Sagara was sheepish, before chuckling. “But it was really funny. Don’t look at me like that, fox lady. If he doesn’t want to say, then I won’t either.”

She pursed her lips. “Alright, cling onto your secrets! For your stubbornness, Kamiya-san, you’ll be under observation for the rest of the day. Let’s go inside, where we can watch you.”

Despite his protests, he was herded upstairs and forcibly tucked into his futon. Sagara and Shinomori had gone to hand over the groceries, while Yahiko was sent for more pillows. Kaoru knelt beside him, touching his elbow. “Are you sure you’re okay, Otou-san? I can get you some barley tea.”

“I’m fine, but I’ll accept the drink.” It would alleviate his daughter’s worry too. “Did you find a yukata?”

“Yeah, I did.” She smiled. “Megumi and Misao found theirs too.”

“We made our choices pretty quickly.” Makimachi explained. “Just in case, I kind of want to look around for more…we still have time before the festival.”

“Well, I’m happy with mine.” Kaoru rose to her feet. “I’ll be back!” However, she wasn’t the only one to leave. Himura was right behind her, even though he obviously couldn’t assist. Rather, he looked content enough to be tagging along. No, he definitely wasn’t the type to leave if…anyway!

“Does he always do that?” Koshijiro decided he could blame the slight tipsiness for asking that out loud.

“What do you mean?” Makimachi grinned. “He’s healthy enough to walk around. There’s no issue if he follows her like a lost puppy, right?” Someone definitely told her about the arm’s length rule, and she had clearly chosen sides.

Takani was still concerned, but she relaxed somewhat, when it was apparent he wasn’t in any serious condition. “You’ve cooled down, and whatever happened, the heat obviously didn’t help. Tell anyone right away if you start feeling lightheaded, your vision blurs, or you lose feeling in a part of your body.”

“I will.”

Meanwhile, Hiko had been standing just outside the room, and he peered within. “If the evaluation is finished, I wanted to have a conversation with the tanuki father. Alone.” There was a gravity to his tone that couldn’t be argued with. But…tanuki father? That was the second time Hiko referred to him as such, and Koshijiro believed it was going to stick.

As the girls shuffled out, Takani warned. “Please don’t give him any more sake.”

“Not unless he asks.” He closed the door, granting them a degree of privacy. Then, he settled on his heels, folding his arms and facing Koshijiro. “Perhaps, it did help. You’re slightly less awkward than last time.”

“I attribute that to practicing in the dojo, over the past few days. I have a better grasp of the one-handed version of Kamiya Kasshin.” It still required perfecting, but he was motivated.

“Hm. That’s what I wanted to discuss. You’re the one who thought of ‘the sword that protects life’. It seems to have resonated with my idiot apprentice and the vow he’s taken.”

“I could tell, he truly understands the intention of Kamiya Kasshin. However, I met him a week into his stay. Kaoru was the one who introduced the school’s ideals to him.” Koshijiro thought for a moment. “Are you upset that he’s not following your path?”

He scoffed. “If I was, I would have prevented him from leaving in the first place. The answer is no. I’m only curious. Your daughter’s perspective is naïve, but she’s never killed anyone. You and my idiot apprentice, however? Such a philosophy is already radical, let alone be embraced by war veterans like the two of you.”

“Do you think it’s foolish? You’re not the first person to think so.” Koshijiro replied. “Throughout the years, I’ve received plenty of criticism. ‘If you cannot kill your opponent, you’ll surely be cut down.’ ‘You’ll run out of stamina as long as you avoid an outcome.’ ‘It’s fine in the dojo, but not on the battlefield.’ ‘A blade is kept sharp for a reason.’”

“Which are all valid points.” Hiko dryly said.

“Yes, but there are ways to protect life. Using nonlethal weapons, taking safety precautions in the dojo. Sometimes, to end a fight quickly by disarming or aiming for nonvital points. And of course, paying attention to your opponent’s weaknesses. I heard your fight by the Aoiya went similarly.”

“I only pitted a couple of them against each other, it wasn’t difficult.”

“And yet, neither of them died, when you could have decided otherwise. That too, is protecting life. I admit, I’ve experienced temptation, but I’ve killed before and so has Himura-san. Kaoru hasn’t, and thanks to her and a certain incident, she provided a rebuttal to that temptation. As long as there’s another option, if you can think of a possibility to end a fight without killing or surrendering, you will not have acted wrongly. That is the intent of Kamiya Kasshin, which your apprentice believes in. Kaoru and I are grateful that he does, wholeheartedly.”

For a while, there was no response. Hiko’s gaze was targeted beyond the walls, his features stoic. “…I’m glad he didn’t meet you earlier. He would have been completely unable to learn Amakakeru Ryuu no Hirameki if he had.”

Koshijiro was irked that this was his only comment, but he didn’t retort. He sensed that there was something Hiko wasn’t sharing, and perhaps, he was trying to figure it out. He didn’t have to be rude about it though.

The door opened, his daughter drawing close with a nearly full cup. “Otou-san, here’s your tea!”

“Thank you, Kaoru.” The liquid was refreshing, and he downed half of it in one go.

“Um, we’ll be waiting downstairs, when you’ve finished talking.”

“No need.” Hiko stood, brushing himself off. “My question’s been answered, and I’ll be heading out.”

Himura stepped inside now, acknowledging his master with a nod. “Then, take care, Shishou.”

“Ah! Before I forget,” Kaoru clasped her hands together, widely smiling. “Hiko-san, you’re always welcome at the Kamiya dojo!”

“What?!” For once, Koshijiro and Himura had the same reaction.

“Kenshin, Otou-san, don’t be like that.” She chided them. “Hiko-san is Kenshin’s teacher and took care of him for years, so it’s only proper.”

“That’s right.” Hiko was utterly smug. “An idiot like you ought to listen to her. She understands respect between master and disciple.”

Well, she is right, but…why did Himura’s teacher have to be this person?! Koshijiro grimaced.

“Ah, Kaoru-dono,” Himura tried to recover his composure. “Tokyo is most likely too busy for Shishou. He prefers his life on the mountain.”

Fortunately, the other man conceded. “It’s a tempting offer, but I value my privacy too much to take advantage of it. I have my kiln here, and a clientele with a taste for the works of Ni’itsu Kakunoshin. Although, I won’t rule out visiting.”

“And is that going to be any time soon?” Himura raised his eyebrows.

He gave a sinister smirk. “Who knows? You should prepare yourself, baka deshi.” With a whirl of his coat, he departed.

Himura sighed in exasperation, muttering. “Shishou…one day, he might actually appear at the gate.”

The others soon reunited with them, though it wasn’t until dinnertime that Koshijiro was released from observation. At least, he could further prove he was alright, by eating without fumbling.

“So…” Yahiko broached the subject, now that Shinomori and Makimachi had returned to their lodgings. “Do we have a set date for going back yet?”

“Aw, you miss Tsubame-chan, don’t you?” Sagara couldn’t resist ribbing him.

“I-I just don’t want to keep sharing a room with you! Your socks stink!”

“Hey, it’s hard to wash them with one hand.”

Takani spoke over their banter. “I think next weekend might be a little early, but if Ken-san maintains his recovery rate, we may only be here for a few days after the festival.”

Kaoru turned to him. “So, Otou-san, do you think you can join us until we leave?”

“I’ll talk to the chief, but I hope that we can return to Tokyo together.”

After the stress of the past months, seeing everyone’s smiles was comforting. It could only have been better if they were in the dojo.

Chapter Text

“Of course, you can take a week off!” Chief Uramura exclaimed. “Really, Kamiya-san, you should have asked earlier. I was planning to say something, if you hadn’t. Please, go and be with your family.”

Months ago, that same word had puzzled Koshijiro when he thought of it. Now, he wasn’t experiencing such confusion. ‘Family’ felt undeniably right. “Thank you. I’ll still be in the office until Friday, to finish up. I’ll assign responsibilities to the young officers as well.”

“Yes, you know them best. You’ve been invaluable to their improvement. They’re an entirely different group than the beginning of the year, and for the better. It’s thanks to your guidance, as expected of a kenjutsu teacher.”

“They were willing to learn in the first place.” He humbly responded. “Advice is nothing without a listening ear.”

After he was dismissed from the chief’s office, he spoke to the rookies. They would be alright in his absence, they insisted, and not to worry while he was gone. Their expressions were clear and forthright; he felt reassured. He would have to purchase souvenirs for them, as well as the chief.

That afternoon, he was occupied with tidying his desk drawers, which had already been delayed for long enough. It was quiet, and the others were out on midday patrol. He didn’t think much of the sound of someone’s entrance, until there was a thud, like a stack of papers had just been tossed in front of him. He glanced up to confirm it, then at the man who’d just delivered them. With his sleeveless shirt and greased hair, he could have been mistaken for a gangster. Even the self-assured way he carried himself was reminiscent of Sagara, although the Kansai accent put an end to further comparison.

“Hey. Are you Officer Kamiya?”

“I am.”

“Name’s Sawagejo Cho. A mutual friend sent me here to work with you.”

He assumed this was the person Saito had mentioned. “It’s good to meet you. Is there something I can do for you, before I’m on leave next week?”

“On leave?” He echoed, in surprise.

“Yes, I’m going out of town.”

Sawagejo opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He scratched his neck, muttering. “Whatever, it’s fine. I’m used to working solo. Here, I was given these notes so you can catch up.” He slid the papers closer to Koshijiro, enough to confirm Saito’s handwriting.

To put it simply, Saito was following through on Shishio’s dealings. He had not conquered villages alone, he had financial backing from a number of individuals who desired the ruin of the current government, if only for their own self-interest. Shishio’s warship, however, was the most challenging. Saito had deduced that its source had been separate from any of the other dissidents, and far wealthier too. Sawagejo would be uncovering leads on the streets, with any assistance Koshijiro could provide.

“You get it, right? Can’t let this fellow slip away from us.”

“Yes, I understand. Where there’s one warship, there may be an entire fleet waiting.” Koshijiro returned the documents to him. “What is your plan so far?”

“I have an idea on how the money was funneled. I snuck a peek at some documents from the base, courtesy of Shishio’s right hand man.” Sawagejo proceeded to explain, turning the pages.

Whoever Shishio’s second was, he had certainly taken advantage of loopholes to transfer the cash under a multitude of company fronts and false identities. The thread had vanished two months ago, but Sawagejo was confident he could pick it up again. With Koshijiro’s authority, they were able to peruse the legal record. While Sawagejo investigated on the streets, Koshijiro would authenticate the short-lived businesses with existing documentation.

“It will be tedious.” Koshijiro warned. “If you feel frustrated, let me know. A weary spirit makes no progress.”

“Nah, I need to keep myself busy.” The other man muttered, his expression pensive. “Keep the papers, I’m headed out. The Kamiya dojo’s where I can find you, right?”

“Yes, it is. You can find me there when I’m not at the station, so knock on the gates when you arrive.”

Sawagejo only acknowledged this with a shrug, before walking away. He must have suffered a loss, Koshijiro thought, and whatever it was, he still hadn’t recovered yet.

In his spare time, Koshijiro had cleaned the house in preparation. Granted, the dust would be back before long, yet it would be less work for Himura. Or anyone who decided to clean, of course. The soap needed to be restocked anyway, and he stopped by the market the day prior to his departure. It was a quick errand, but he lingered. There was also something else he had to account for…

“Good morning, Kamiya-san!” Tae’s familiar voice called out, and he turned to see her and Tsubame, who was carrying a basket of persimmons.

“Good morning, Sekihara-san, Tsubame-chan. How are you?”

“We’re doing well. As you saw last time, business is booming at the Akabeko.” Tae was pleased. “We’re keeping busy, aren’t we, Tsubame?”

“Yes, Tae-san.” The persimmons’ weight didn’t seem to affect her posture; she had become a little stronger. “Um, Kamiya-san? How’s everyone in Kyoto doing?”

“Still recovering, but I plan to come home with them next week.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She breathed, smiling now. “Yahiko-kun’s all better too?”

“He is, and I’m sorry I didn’t have a letter for you.” He paused. “However, I think you’ll find he may have something better in store.”

“Huh?”

“Isn’t that nice, Tsubame?” Tae had a knowing glint in her eye. “He must have bought a gift for you.”

Flustered, the girl renewed her interest in the fruit. “I’m just glad he’s alright…”

“We’re looking forward to having them back. Were you trying to find more soap, Kamiya-san?” She had noticed the cloth bag in his grip.

“I have what I need, and I was also looking around.” He then admitted. “I was thinking of a suitable gift. It’s overdue, but I never did anything for Kaoru’s birthday since I left for Satsuma.”

“Ah, so that’s what it was. What were you considering?”

“I used to make her a new shinai every year.” The task had required two hands, to hold the bamboo steady while cutting the necessary notches. “I don’t think I can, any longer.”

“…Well, a change of pace would be welcome.” Tae breezily said. “Kaoru’s very good at taking care of other people, but she doesn’t request anything for herself.”

He nodded in agreement, as he thought it over. “A new uniform, perhaps, as befitting the master of Kamiya Kasshin.”

“A new kimono, perhaps.” The slightest hint of exasperation tightened her smile. “Really, Kamiya-san! I think you should leave the choice of fabric to her. She knows what’s fashionable.”

“Of course.” He tried to maintain a stoic face, to conceal his embarrassment. “I do owe her for two birthdays and my absence. Once they’re home, she can plan a day’s outing and I’ll treat everyone to dinner at the end.”

“And if you decide to spend dinner at the Akabeko, I’ll reserve a table.”

“Thank you. I don’t think the others will object.”

“I heard they’re planning to attend a festival? They’ll have a good time.” Her voice was warm with nostalgia. “We’ll be waiting for all of you to return; please, have a safe trip.”

“Travel safely.” Tsubame echoed.

“We’ll be here soon enough.” He promised, and they parted ways. He did peer into a few clothing shops, just for preliminary comparison.

Takani had returned the spare key to him, and he handed it off to Dr. Gensai, who promised to watch the house in his absence.

“And when we see you again, you can expect a welcome home celebration too.” He gave a hearty laugh. “Ayame and Suzume have been asking every day when they can visit.”

Koshijiro smiled. “Well, I’m sure Kaoru and the others will be happy to see them. If there’s anything urgent, please let me know right away.”

“Of course. Have a good trip!”

Just before leaving, he locked his notes in the drawer below the family altar. The money trail hadn’t been fully uncovered, but he had found a point of connection. Although the funds had been divided and changed hands, small portions at a time had run through a candle-making shop. In such amounts, the transactions would have passed as insignificant. He had informed Sawagejo yesterday, who would pay a visit and observe.

“I’ll be back soon.” He said to the portraits of Kyoko and his mother. He checked the house once more, that it was secured properly, before closing the gate behind him.

The train was on time, and settling in his seat, he considered taking a nap so he would be refreshed upon his arrival. He had traveled often enough, that he could now fall into a light sleep to pass the time. In the background, he overheard there was a last second arrival on board, the conductor admonishing whoever it was. Then, they began to move. And to his surprise, Sawagejo slid onto the opposite cushion.

The other man’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, you’re headed to Kyoto too?”

“I am.” He realized he never had disclosed his destination. “And what about you? I was under the impression you would be staying in Tokyo for the time being.”

“I got some news and I wanted to share it. In person.” He then changed the subject. “Anyway, for the investigation, I went to the shop. Seems shady, and I heard it’s working under the table for a Chinese enterprise. That’s as far as I managed.”

“In a week, that’s certainly more than enough. You’ve done good work, and I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Sawagejo grunted in response. “It’s not over yet.”

“No, it isn’t.” Koshijiro paused. “I thought of another angle. The warship was a massive commission. Whoever the original backer was, they may have financed other pursuits. It would be worth looking into large luxury items, perhaps Western.”

“Like a train?” He gestured to their surroundings.

“A train requires a railroad, and such visibility limits opportunity for attack. Another warship would be too suspicious, but I can’t think of anything else they would try.”

“So you think they’ll do it again?”

“They’ve gone to such lengths already with Shishio, and even after his failure, they’re still transferring the funds. Reinvesting, you could say.”

He sighed. “Damn, it’s just the same old story. Rich folks, making everyone else dance to their whims.” He was quiet for the remainder of the journey, only offering a brief goodbye at the station.

When he arrived at the Shirobeko, he only saw Sae and a couple of the staff. According to them, Sagara, Takani, and Yahiko were helping with errands before the expected influx for the festival tonight. Himura and Kaoru, however, were upstairs, and before he could inquire further, a group of customers came to signal the start of the lunch rush. He stepped aside, heading up to the second floor.

As he drew closer, he caught their muffled voices. Were they talking? The door to the girls’ room was open, but Himura’s was closed. Trying to avoid creaks in the floorboards, he pressed one ear to the rice paper.

“This one remembered your words. ‘Let’s go home to Tokyo together.’ And that gave this one the strength to continue the fight.”

Then, it was too quiet. Unable to bear not knowing, Koshijiro opened the sliding door. “Lunch is ready. Also, I’m here.” He added belatedly.

“Otou-san!” Kaoru startled. Her hand was in the air, as if she had just let go. She and Himura were standing by the window, the sunshine pouring in. “You’re early!”

“Good afternoon, Kamiya-dono.” Himura inclined his head, giving a polite smile. He was standing without the cane, and if any bandages remained, they weren’t visible.

“Good afternoon, Himura-san. And Kaoru, there weren’t any delays, thankfully. I see you’re both well.”

“Yeah, Kenshin’s so much better.” His daughter beamed. “How was your week, Otou-san?”

“Not as eventful as finding three orphans, but I have a new assignment. I can discuss it later, after we eat.” He gestured to the hallway, indicating he’d follow suit after them.

When they reached the dining area, Koshijiro quickly spotted Takani and Yahiko, and that Shinomori and Makimachi had arrived as well. Their postures were tense, surrounding Sagara’s taller figure. He was standing over a table, apparently talking to one of the customers. His voice rang out.

“What the hell are you doing here, broom head?”

That made them hurry over, and Koshijiro blinked when he saw who Sagara was questioning. Hadn’t he just traveled with this man?

“Huh?! Kamiya-san?” Sawagejo’s jaw dropped. The cup of sake in his hand tilted dangerously. “You know these people?”

“I was going to ask the same of you, regarding how you’re acquainted with my family.”

“You never said you were coming here!”

“Wait, you know the old man?” Sagara interjected.

Koshijiro provided the explanation. “We were working together in Tokyo over the past few days. I don’t believe we shared the exact details of our travel plans with each other, so this is certainly a surprise.”

“Kamiya-san, why would you collaborate with him?” Makimachi jerked a thumb towards Sawagejo. “This guy’s really no good! Himura-san and I already know what he’s like.”

“Hey, I’ve changed. I’m working for the police now.” Sawagejo downed his drink in one go, wiped his mouth, and said. “Look, I’m here to talk about the rest of the Ten Swords.”

The rest? It suddenly made sense. Sawagejo was one of Shishio’s followers, who had since been converted to their side. However, he didn’t remember the man’s description from any of the fights that Sagara, Yahiko, or Kaoru described. And there was Makimachi’s comment. Then…he had to be the swordsman who forced Himura to decide between a baby’s life and the vow not to kill.

Koshijiro frowned at Sawagejo. “You were the one who kidnapped the child?”

Immediately, he paled. “You know about that? No, wait, of course you do. Yeah, I did, and a whole lot of other shitty things. Saito offered me the chance to work for him, in exchange for a full pardon. And who else is gonna employ me? At least, until I find something better.”

“That’s so scummy!” Makimachi protested. She seemed ready to lunge at him, but Shinomori’s hand touched her elbow in warning and the intensity of his dark eyes caused her to falter.

Himura stepped forward in her place, his expression guarded. “…So, while you’re here, please share your information.”

They sat at the table, and Sawagejo recounted the fates of his remaining former comrades. Some were working for the government, offering their strength and skills at various posts. The scythe-wielder who had battled Kaoru and Makimachi was among them, or would be, after recovering.

“Kamatari’s not healing too well though.” Sawagejo poured himself another shot.

Yahiko glanced at Kaoru. “But you always say about Kamiya Kasshin…”

“I didn’t mean to!” Her gaze darted to Koshijiro. “It was a clean break; it shouldn’t have caused complications.”

Sympathetically, he clasped her shoulder, as Sawagejo continued. “Oh, it’s not the knee. It’s her heart. She took Shishio’s death really hard. When I last saw her at the clinic she was in, I told her that Shishio wanted us to spread his true story, to counter the government’s version of events. Of course, that gave her some hope.”

“Oh.” Kaoru exhaled, while Makimachi gave a skeptical look.

“Is that true?”

Sawagejo rolled his eyes. “No way. Shishio never said anything like that. Kamatari can’t move on unless she believes he’d want her to. Well, so long as she’s alive, she’s not dead.” There was a certain kindness to his behavior though.

“Look, the only one I care about is Anji.” Sagara was as straightforward as ever. “What happened to him? He has too much hatred for the government to work for them.”

“Yeah, and I guess I have to thank you that he wasn’t executed. He turned himself into the police, with another he rescued. But, he wants to pay for his crimes. He’s serving twenty-five years in Hokkaido.”

Koshijiro half expected Sagara to give an outburst, but he didn’t. Instead, he only appeared pensive. “That’s…a long time.”

“The last person, you haven’t mentioned yet.” Himura spoke up. “Shishio’s most devoted follower. What happened to him?”

Sawagejo’s mouth twisted. “Hoji’s dead. He wanted a trial, to have the chance to praise Shishio’s memory. In the end, he was denied.”

“This one expected as much.” Himura quietly said. “Those in power would prefer to never hear of Shishio again, to snuff out the shadow of the Bakumatsu.”

“Yeah. He was offered a deal, to put his brains to use if he could swear loyalty and forget about Shishio’s message. Somehow, he had a hidden blade left on him and slit his own throat. I saw his cell last night. He wrote in his own blood on the wall: the world is dead to me and I go to serve Shishio-sama in hell.”

No one made a sound. Even if the man had schemed to bring about a rebellion, he didn’t deserve such a morbid outcome.

Yahiko frowned. “The government didn’t look after him. Then, what were we fighting for?”

“That’s just how it is, kid.” Sawagejo had moved onto his green tea; talking had parched his throat. “Yumi-neesan knew that. She used to be the most popular courtesan in Yoshiwara, and when we were drinking together, she said she had pride in that life. Until the Maria Luz incident.” At the name, Takani clicked her tongue in recognition, her face souring.

“Maria Luz!” Kaoru knew the reference, and so did Koshijiro. Five years ago, as part of a response to a Peruvian ship, the government had refused to compensate prostitutes for the freedom they’d lost. It had equated those women to livestock.

Yahiko and Makimachi were the youngest and brought up to speed. Makimachi was rightfully furious, and Yahiko scratched his head. “It just gets harder and harder, to tell who’s right.”

“Well, I have to go. Kamiya-san, Hoji was the one who procured the battleship. I’m going back to Tokyo, keep investigating. It’s all I can do now.”

“Take care, and thank you.” Koshijiro answered. “I’m sorry, for the allies and friends you’ve lost.”

His smile was bitter. “Like I said, that’s how the world is. Oh, right. Almost forgot about the two who escaped. I don’t think Soujiro will ever be caught. He’s probably wandering off somewhere, smiling and eating dango. And Iwanbo, I’m not sure what became of him, but he’s stupid and harmless. Now, that really is all from me. See ya.” He left the money for his drinks on the table and stood, shuffling to the Shirobeko’s entrance.

“One more thing.” Himura called out to him. “When you visit Sadojima Hoji’s grave, tell him that history will forget Shishio Makoto, Komagata Yumi, and the rest of the Ten Swords. However, they will not be forgotten by this one. Never.”

“I don’t know if he’d like hearing that from the enemy, but sure, whatever.” With a two-fingered salute, he disappeared into the main street.

Yahiko appeared to be in deep contemplation. “Hey, Kenshin. We won, so that means our way is right, doesn’t it?”

Himura evenly replied. “That would be Shishio’s way of thinking. Only the victors can write history, and only future generations can determine whether they were right or wrong. However, Shishio’s message of the strong overcoming the weak…that was wrong. Very wrong.” He repeated firmly.

Koshijiro watched the Shirobeko’s front curtains, still fluttering. To him, there was no question that innocents would have been hurt if Shishio had succeeded in his plans, and many already had in his takeover of villages. But the Ten Swords had their own legitimate grievances against the government, and without a doubt, there had to be others who shared in their sentiments. As time passed, the recollection of war would fade, and discontent would begin to brew again. How long then, would this peaceful time endure?

“So,” Sagara drawled. “We’re your family?”

Now, Koshijiro felt embarrassed. Well, there was no taking it back, and he had to embrace it. He gruffly replied. “The chief said so, and I agree. We are here together because the bonds between us are important. Family is the best description for what we are.”

“I knew it! You’ve softened up.” Sagara’s grin widened further.

“Otou-san, you really must have been lonely.” Kaoru couldn’t resist joking too, but she happily threw her arms around him. “You’re right. I’m glad you think that way.”

Yahiko seemed unsure how to react, fidgeting shyly, and his ears were very red. The trace of melancholy within Takani had resurfaced, though the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned. And Himura’s expression was incredibly fond, as he returned Koshijiro’s gaze.

Awkwardly, he patted Kaoru’s back and cleared his throat. “We still haven’t had lunch yet. Let’s eat, and take care of what needs to be done before the festival.”

The event was scheduled to start later in the afternoon, lasting until midnight. Partway through lunch, the Oniwabanshuu stopped by, to relay that they’d be conducting surveillance as well. Okina lamented not being able to drink to his heart’s content; it was good that the four younger men and women would keep him in check. Nevertheless, he must have snuck a shot or two, because he loudly sang an old folk ballad at the top of his lungs. Koshijiro suspected it was to get a reaction out of Shinomori, but it only served to hasten the spy group’s exit.

When the heat of the day subsided, they separated to change. Koshijiro had brought the last yukata he’d worn to a summer festival, a plain red-brown like fallen leaves. It still fit well, though his left sleeve would have to be pinned out of the way. He left the room at the same time as Shinomori exited from across the hall. The younger man immediately lowered his head and gestured with an arm covered in charcoal gray, for Koshijiro to head down first.

“We can go together.” Koshijiro suggested. “It’s good that you’re coming with us, to enjoy the fresh air. That itself is as good as meditating.”

Shinomori inclined his head. “…I suppose.”

Outside the Shirobeko, most of the others were waiting. Makimachi wore a sky-colored yukata, patterned with orange and black goldfish. Standing beside her, Takani was clad in lavender, with a striped obi. Sagara’s maroon sleeves were already rolled up, and Yahiko was fiddling with the collar of his green yukata, adorned with golden bamboo.

“Aoshi-samaaaaa!” Makimachi was thoroughly delighted by his appearance. “You look perfect!”

His stoic expression didn’t crack, but he did meet her gaze and nod. It was a slight improvement from before, and he seemed better in her presence.

“Where are Kaoru and Himura-san?” Koshijiro asked, and Sagara jabbed a thumb upstairs.

“Jou-chan said something about fixing her hair, and Kenshin is cleaning the sakabato. With his yukata, he’ll have to carry it in a satchel, but he doesn’t expect a fight. It’s just that he couldn’t leave it behind, after all.”

It would also be the first time he carried it since the duel with Shishio, Koshijiro realized. “I’ll see how they’re doing.” He pivoted, returning the way he came. He was about to knock on Himura’s door first, but it opened and the younger man blinked at him in surprise.

“Kamiya-dono. This one apologizes for the delay.” Himura’s yukata was off-white, with the outlines of foliage in navy thread. Koshijiro didn’t recognize it, so it must have been purchased in Kyoto, but the cloth bag over his shoulder was certainly familiar. It was from the dojo, used for holding shinai. Presumably, it now concealed the reverse blade. Had he borrowed it from Kaoru?

Remembering himself, Koshijiro shook his head. “No, it’s alright. As a swordsman, I understand. You wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise.”

He gave a thoughtful look. “And you are comfortable now?”

“Only after many years. I have two decades on you, so please don’t feel rushed.” This sentiment caused Himura to give a light laugh, and Koshijiro couldn’t resist smiling.

“Kenshin! Otou-san!” Kaoru stepped out, in a dark blue yukata overflowing with hand-sized white blossoms and leaves. Her obi was pale gold, and he recognized the rosy shade of her ribbon, inherited from her mother. “I thought I heard your voices. Sorry, but I’m ready now. Let’s go!”

Koshijiro glanced at Himura, who was staring at her. After a moment, the younger man startled, murmuring. “You look…very nice, Kaoru-dono.”

She blushed. “Well, you look very nice too.”

No one moved right away, and Koshijiro deliberately cleared his throat. “You’re both suitable, so we should meet with everyone. We still have the rest of the day ahead of us.” They rejoined the others, and as a group, they leisurely walked along the main street. He did check if Himura and Kaoru were behaving. With their outfits in similar themes, but reversed colors, they made a complementary picture.

It was early enough that it wasn’t crowded yet, though it was about the right time for young families to enjoy the festival. Sweet and savory aromas wove through the air, leading to wagashi shops or charcoal grills in the open. Colorful paper lanterns were strung up, and the rumble of taiko drums signaled there was a performance not too far away. The artisans of Kyoto were already prepared, showcasing their goods. Cosmetics were among them, and Takani bent over the little pots of rouge and powders. She noticed their gazes, especially Kaoru’s and Makimachi’s, and asked. “Are the two of you interested?”

“A little bit.” Makimachi confessed. “Okon and Omasu have let me try some of theirs, but I’ve never had my own. I was saving my money for travel.”

“Makeup wears off during practice, so I don’t usually wear it.” Kaoru said.

“Well, this is a good opportunity. Come here.” She beckoned, and the girls huddled.

“Guess that’s our cue. Come on, there’s gotta be a few games we can play.” Sagara surveyed the stalls. “Like…scooping goldfish?”

“Where would we even put them?” Yahiko was skeptical. “In one of the Shirobeko’s pots? Come on, Sano, you gotta think about where the money is. And that’s at senbonbiki.”

“The one where you pick a string and win whatever you pull?”

“Yeah, usually scammers run those, because it’s easy to place decoy strings. But I can tell which ones lead to the prizes.” With a devious grin, he cracked his knuckles, and Koshijiro was reminded of his pickpocketing history.

Himura was amenable to the idea. “That sounds fun. We’ll follow your lead, Yahiko.”

With his chest puffed out, he easily located a stall, which was peddling an array of items through the game. Folding fans, spinning tops, painted daruma dolls, hand drums, pinwheels, small ebony figurines. The teenage vendor looked bored, more interested in eyeing the women passing by.

“These are just kids’ toys.” Sagara complained.

Yahiko was offended. “Oh, yeah? Go on and pick a string, I bet you get nothing!”

As he planted down the money in answer to the challenge, he smirked. “Just watch, you point and I’ll pull it.”

“Fine, that wooden tiger!”

While Sagara made good on his promise and procured a fox sculpture, Koshijiro’s eyes fell upon a ribbon. It appeared to be cut from Western cloth, delicate blue flowers on white, and was tied in a bow. The ends were also trimmed with lace, to prevent fraying. It would be nice for Kaoru. He glanced at Himura, and they made eye contact. So, they had the same idea.

“You can take your turn first, Himura-san.” He offered.

“It’s alright, Kamiya-dono. After you.”

“Very well.” Koshijiro paid, thinking he had an idea of how to obtain that ribbon. With confidence, he chose the string he believed was most likely, and the other end…was tied to a baby rattle. It jangled tauntingly at him as he lifted it.

Sagara gave a rowdy laugh, while Yahiko expressed skepticism. “Is it what you wanted, Kamiya-san?”

“It wasn’t what I hoped for, but I can’t put it back.”

“You can always have another try.”

“After everyone else has gone at least once.” He looked to Himura, who had just handed over the necessary fee.

“Thank you, Kamiya-dono.” He approached the stall, considering the strings. Then, he reached forward, and there was the ribbon, falling into his hand. “Ah, how lucky.”

“Indeed.” Koshijiro raised his eyebrows. “You chose well.”

Yahiko wasn’t as enthusiastic. “I guess you can go again after Kamiya-san?”

“No, this one is satisfied with the ribbon.” He smiled.

“That frilly thing? Hey!”

Sagara had smacked the spot between his shoulder blades. “Obviously, he’s not keeping it. He’s gonna give it to Jou-chan.”

“W-well, yeah, I figured.” Yahiko muttered.

Shinomori then stepped up; he had been so quiet, but it seemed he was interested. He didn’t take long to deliberate, and his prize was one of the larger folding fans, silver in color. It reflected the late afternoon light, a bright patch shifting across his face.

“Aha, there you are!” Apparently, the glint had caught Makimachi’s eye, and she waved vigorously as she skipped over to them. Kaoru and Takani were behind her; Koshijiro noticed how their mouths were tinted in deeper shades. “Hm? Aoshi-sama, what’s that you’ve got?”

“For you.” He handed the fan to Makimachi, who dazedly accepted it.

“O-oh. Thank you…” She looked ready to melt. She was so transfixed that she didn’t notice the roving eyes of the vendor, whose attention had now turned to their arrivals.

His whistle immediately sounded like trouble, and it was followed by a sleazy greeting. “Hey, ladies. Wanna give a tug?”

Kaoru scowled. “No, thank you!”

“Find a better way to lure your customers first.” Takani pointedly turned her shoulder towards him, but her eyes held restrained contempt.

“We’re done here.” Koshijiro dismissed the vendor and urged everyone to keep walking. He looked over his shoulder to glare at the teenager again, and he wasn’t the only one. Himura’s expression was darkly threatening, like when he was about to draw his sakabato.

However, Sagara addressed the teenager, grabbing his collar and lifting him off the ground. He had a wide grin that didn’t meet his eyes, as he roughly shook the younger boy. “Oops, I meant to get another string, but I missed. Hm? Nothing’s coming out of you?” Unceremoniously, he dropped the teenager and made a crude gesture. “We better not see you around again.”

The boy had gone purple in the face out of rage, and Sagara sprinted back to them. Now, they really had to leave with haste, and when they were far enough, Yahiko burst into laughter.

“I thought he was gonna pee himself!”

“I thought you were going to get in trouble.” Takani adds, though without malice.

“Well, if it wasn’t me, it’d be someone else.” Sagara shrugged. “Oh, and here.” He tossed the fox sculpture towards her, and she reflexively caught it, inspecting with suspicion.

“What’s this?”

“A thanks for fixing me up.”

“The only thanks I need is for you to be fully healed.” She retorted. “But I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. And we all won something, didn’t we?” He purposefully nudged Himura, who made a startled noise.

Kaoru looked curiously at him. “Oh? Kenshin, what’d you get?”

He directed his full attention towards her, opening his hands to reveal the blue and white cloth. “It’s a hair ribbon, but this one thinks it will look much better on you.” His expression was gentle, as he held it out.

Shyly, her fingers closed over the knot, and as he withdrew, Koshijiro narrowed his eyes. It was hard to tell because of the growing shadows, but had his pinky run over hers?

“It’s so pretty! I’d love to try it on, but I’ll save it for another day, when I’m not as sweaty.” She lightly said.

“This one doesn’t mind seeing you sweaty.” Instantly, he froze. Kaoru’s eyes had grown wide, and in the most panicked way they’d ever seen him, he urgently gestured. As if he could take back his words. “Ah, w-well, this one meant…it doesn’t matter to this one. Whether you’re sweaty or not, this one could never think badly of you, Kaoru-dono.”

“Th-thanks.” Kaoru managed to say, her face flushed.

The atmosphere was painfully awkward. At least, nobody asked what Koshijiro had won. The rattle was tucked inside his obi and he kept his hand on it to prevent more jangling.

They moved on, enjoying the sights and sounds. Dinner turned out to be Shinomori’s choice, of excellent sushi with a view of the setting sun from the roadside. As the sky darkened, people were meandering to the riverbank. Makimachi urged them to follow suit. “It’s the fireworks display! It should be starting soon. Come on, let’s go!”

As the crowds grew, it was hard to find available space. They ended up near a cluster of bushes; with just enough room to breathe though, they couldn’t complain. While they waited, Koshijiro was content to look after his daughter…the family that had come together over the past months.

A whistle, then a reverberating boom. Again, but closer this time. The others gasped, pointing to the horizon. The colors swam in his vision.

It had been a year since he last heard fireworks, and what came to his mind now was Satsuma. The approaching explosions, the tension, the memory of his body coming apart. And the worst phantom pain he’d experienced in a long time seized his left shoulder.

He was positioned at the back of the group, and he stumbled away. He couldn’t fall apart and ruin their experience. He bumped into a wall, not hard enough to hurt, but he drew his hand over his eyes. His knees threatened to buckle; it took all his composure to remain standing.

“Kamiya-dono.”

He forced his gaze up, to see Himura on his right side. The other man kindly smiled. “Shall we find somewhere quieter?”

Unable to speak, he nodded.

“Then, let’s go.” Firmly, carefully, Himura guided him further away from the river. The noise wasn’t completely inescapable, but distance helped.

When the pain began to ebb and his surroundings came into focus, he recognized they were outside the establishment they’d spent dinner at. Finally drawing a full breath, he exhaled. “Himura-san…thank you.”

“It’s the least this one could do.” In the lantern light, Himura’s hair seemed brighter. “This one could tell you were remembering.”

“Unexpectedly so. I didn’t realize fireworks could set it off.”

“Such things cannot be predicted. Kyoto is also a place of many memories for this one, from over ten years ago.” And at this, he appeared troubled.

“Are you alright?”

Himura faced him, thinking it over. At length, he said. “If this one had fought Shishio earlier in the Meiji era, this one would have lost. Right now, this one has a place to return to and that knowledge gave strength. The will, to survive. This one wasn’t thinking about the past this city holds, but of going home. To Tokyo.”

Koshijiro stared at him, with a new regard. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

Then, there was Kaoru, emerging from the crowd. The others trailed behind her, and when she recognized Koshijiro, she waved. Upon noticing his expression, her face fell. “Otou-san? You’re not okay.” She immediately stepped over, gently taking hold of his elbow. “Did the fireworks remind you of the war?”

“Satsuma. And…” He looked at his left shoulder.

Her arms came around him, and she patted his back soothingly. “You don’t have to talk about it. How about we go back to the Shirobeko?”

“You can drop me off. The rest of you can enjoy the night.”

“Otou-san, how can we? And it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

His dear daughter, she always knew what to say. She took his left side and Himura his right, and they supported him the entire way back. Shinomori and Makimachi found the quickest route, that traversed behind stone buildings to dull the booming fireworks. Takani bought cold tea, for rehydrating, and Sagara and Yahiko kept an eye out for danger. And so, they returned early and without fanfare, but he was touched.

For the remainder of the weekend, they were worn out and recovering. Makimachi and Shinomori took their leave early, preparing to reopen the Aoiya.

“Do you need any help?” Himura offered.

“We’ve got it covered, and anyway, we can’t have you seeing our secret spots!” Makimachi winked. “We’ll invite you over when we’re done!”

That was perfectly fine, because Koshijiro intended to join Kaoru and Yahiko for practice. It was the first time he would, and Kaoru was ecstatic. While they stretched in the yard, the other three sat on the porch to observe.

“I’ll reserve the one-armed katas for the dojo.” Koshijiro said. “But I’d like to show you something else. Yahiko.” He addressed the boy, who quickly straightened his posture. “You’ve seen Kaoru perform Hadome and Hawatari, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, when we were rescuing Megumi. Kaoru said they were the succession techniques that you created.”

He nodded. “So, what was my intention behind these moves?”

“Huh? Um…”

“If you need a reminder, I can demonstrate them again.” Kaoru offered. “Otou-san, you can be my opponent.” They only needed to do so once, before Yahiko cried out.

“Oh, I get it now! It’s to catch the enemy’s weapon, while keeping your own!”

“That’s correct.” Koshijiro smiled. “If you can discern that much already, you’ll be an excellent swordsman in the future.”

“W-well, that’s what I want.” He was flustered and hastily asked. “But can you perform the succession techniques with one hand? Kaoru used both wrists for Hadome.”

“I’ve created a new technique, which I’ll show you now. Remember what you said. Kaoru, let’s switch off.” They returned to their initial stances, with his daughter attacking this time. She struck, the bamboo cutting the air. Time seemed to slow down, as he waited for the right moment.

Now!

He aimed just above her hilt and locked in as they collided. The force of her blow reverberated through his body, but he was grounded. Successful. The base of her shinai was trapped between the hilt of his, and his own grip. “Hizadome!”

Kaoru’s eyes widened in realization. “A block…with the hilt?!”

“You can still do it, you can still catch a sword with one hand!” Yahiko crowed with excitement.

“And next…Hawatari!” Having caught her off guard, he surged, quickly retaliating with an offensive strike to disarm her. She retreated to avoid injury, but with her shinai in the grass, the spar was concluded. Koshijiro returned to form, explaining. “That remained unchanged, so the name is the same.”

“But Hizadome,” Kaoru was awed. “It’s like Hadome, and yet, not quite. One more time, Otou-san?”

He agreed, and afterwards, Sagara was the first to run up to them. “Damn, you really thought it through. Even just seeing it, I can tell how much strength and precision you need. And with one hand!”

“This one understands. It is because you have one hand, that you can carry out this maneuver.” Himura lifted his sakabato, wrapping his fingers around it. “With one hand, you are left with a gap on the sword’s hilt, and with the hilt, it creates a space to block a weapon. This one saw that it was narrow, in order to not lose your own grip.”

“Yes, I had to work out the proper distance, but I believe this is enough for a sword. It may need adjusting for larger weapons.”

Yahiko scrutinized Koshijiro’s hand. “And the hilt doesn’t break?”

“The hilt is strong, and because it’s closer to my body, it’s less likely to break. It’s the same as when you see broken swords. They never break at the hilt, only towards the middle of the blade.”

“Oh, I get it.” He seemed to sink into deeper thought.

“Aren’t you worried about losing a finger?” Takani spoke up. “I understand you’ve done this for years, but it seems dangerous.”

“No more than catching a sword with the backs of your wrists.” He wryly said. “A succession technique is not meant to be a part of your regular repertoire. It is the pinnacle of your personal ability and experience, to be utilized in special circumstances.”

“It depends on your judgment too, if you feel like you can win.” Kaoru added. “Even though the mansion fight wasn’t that bad, I wanted to prove that I was worthy of being the head instructor. So, Otou-san, how did you come up with this?”

“The idea came to me with the start of Himura-san’s rehabilitation, when we were assisting him with his stretches. It made me consider the grip on the shinai, and how it could be utilized.” He shared details of his work in the dojo, and the day passed blissfully with kenjutsu practice.

The Aoiya held their grand reopening in the evening. Of course, the Oniwabanshuu let loose, and Okina happily showcased the latest additions to his singing repertoire. At the rate things were going, they’d have a party every day until they departed.

“You can’t be leaving already?!” Makimachi bemoaned in the morning. Kaoru had asked to speak to her and Okina privately, sharing that they’d just purchased their tickets. In one of the inn’s rooms, Koshijiro stood behind her for support.

“Sorry, Misao.” Kaoru said. “We’ve intruded on the Shirobeko long enough.”

“But you can stay at the Aoiya instead! And it’s not like you have more students to teach in Tokyo.”

At this sore point, Kaoru’s smile became forced. “That’s nice of you to offer and I know you mean well, but I’m still the master of Kamiya Kasshin. We have to advertise, Otou-san.”

“Yes, we’ll do that. You all have been incredibly hospitable and we’re very grateful. However, we need to go home.” He said.

“It’s a little sudden though.” Okina stroked his beard. “Why not stay another two or three days?”

Kaoru replied. “Thank you, but we can’t refund the tickets. And for Kenshin, Kyoto is a place of bitter memories. We shouldn’t stay longer than we have to.”

“Of course, of course. We only know the Himura of today, but he was the infamous Hitokiri Battousai.”

“That’s all in the past though!” Makimachi was stubbornly holding her ground. “Himura’s good now, he should move forward!”

“I can’t disagree,” Kaoru admitted. “But Kenshin’s feelings are his own.”

“Then, you should try and cheer him up!”

Okina spoke up again. “Both of you make good points. If you allow me, I’d like to suggest something…an all-day tour of the city’s most thrilling sights!” Exuberantly, he launched into a well-rehearsed speech. “The premier entertainment of Kyoto, combined with our famous architectural structures and historical tales. It’ll lift anyone’s spirits! Aoshi’s at the temple, but tell the others. We can squeeze in everything if we leave now. Hurry, hurry!”

However, it was difficult to track them down; Koshijiro and Kaoru had to split. He found Yahiko at the front of the inn, already dressed and about to put on his shoes. The boy waved. “Hey, Kamiya-san.”

“Good morning. I was looking for you, as well as Himura-san and Sagara-san. Where could I find them?” Koshijiro asked.

“Sano said he was looking for a souvenir for Tsunan. And Kenshin left early, even before Sano. Not sure where he went…” Yahiko trailed off. “And I’m going out too.”

“On your own?”

“Yeah. There’s something I’m curious about.” He looked so serious. “Don’t worry, I won’t be going far.”

It seemed important. “I trust that you’ll be responsible.”

“Kamiya-san, by now, I think I know this city better than you do.” But he relaxed, smiling a little. “I’ll be back soon!”

“Stay safe.” He watched Yahiko go, before turning around. Kaoru was heading his way, when she was intercepted by the doctor. 

“Oh, good, you’re still here. I’d like to speak with you.” Takani pointedly looked at Kaoru. “And just you, for the day. We’ll stick together, Kamiya-san.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it something you can’t share with me?”

“Women’s talk.” It wasn’t an answer he liked, but he could only watch as Takani dragged Kaoru off. His daughter gave a backwards glance in apology. If she was fine with it, he wouldn’t intrude.

Koshijro was left to convey the lack of attendance to Makimachi and Okina. However, they couldn’t be denied.

“Then, we’ll just take you! It’ll be an exclusive tour!”

He was immediately swept up by the duo. His feet didn’t stop moving, until they were back to their starting point at the Aoiya’s entrance. It certainly had been a whirlwind, and his head was reeling from the scenery and commentary.

“So, between the Gold Pavilion and the Silver Pavilion, which do you like best?!” Makimachi was desperate to know.

“Well…” Koshijiro deliberated over his answer. “If I must choose, the Silver Pavilion suited my personal taste; the lack of actual silver may have been unintended, but it ended up being more approachable.”

“Yes, its elegance is unparalleled!” Okina had sided with the younger structure, and he vigorously agreed. “The water reflecting upon the lacquer, the sand garden’s representation of Mount Fuji. I’m glad you appreciate it!”

“Aw, fine.” Makimachi pouted. “I guess it didn’t help that the Golden Pavilion is showing its wear and tear. There wasn’t much of the gold foil left.”

That was true, but Koshijiro said. “However, I am partial to the Golden Pavilion’s garden, the Mirror Pond especially. Not only was it beautiful, it also shares the same name as my wife.”

To his embarrassment, they laughed. Makimachi patted his shoulder. “Kamiya-san, I didn’t expect you to be such a romantic!”

Thankfully, he was saved by the others, who were announcing their presences, and he went out to greet them. Sagara and Yahiko looked like they had accomplished what they wanted, while Takani and Kaoru were somber. Koshijiro wondered what they had spoken of.

And then, there was Himura, carrying a small wooden bucket. At their inquiries of where he’d been, he tilted his head. “Oro? This one went to visit a grave…”

“Wait, Kenshin, you said ‘oro’!” Kaoru gasped.

Yahiko pointed at him. “We haven’t heard that since you left Tokyo!”

“So, like a year and a half?” Sagara joked, to which Takani corrected.

“Three months! The rurouni’s wandered back to us.”

As they continued to tease Himura, Kaoru confided. “I think he’s really come home to us, Otou-san.”

“I believe so. But it’s not over yet, not until we’re in the dojo.”

The following day, they were all packed, along with stacked boxes of sweets, purchased from the wagashi shops as gifts. They thanked the Shirobeko's staff, who happily saw them off. And then, the Oniwabanshuu bid their farewells at the train station.

“Come visit soon, okay?” Makimachi was already tearful.

“Of course!” Kaoru drew her into a hug. “Take care of yourself, alright? And Shinomori-san too.”

The other girl nodded, little sobs escaping her even as she reluctantly pulled away. The Oniwabanshuu surrounded her, ribbing that the Okashira had to be strong. Except for Shinomori, who gave a handkerchief and met her gaze.

“Misao. We can also visit them.”

“Huh?” She hiccupped. “Can we?”

“Yes, definitely!” Kaoru beamed. “You’re welcome any time.”

“Okay…” This sent her on another wave, which caused her to blow her nose into the handkerchief.

Shinomori and Himura nodded at each other, with a sense of mutual understanding. The latter spoke first. “This one would have liked to share a farewell drink.”

“I don’t drink sake.” Shinomori paused. “However, we could have tea instead.”

“Tea, then.” Himura echoed. “Either here or in Tokyo.”

Then, the train whistled, and they had to board. They had their last look of Kyoto through the glass windows. It was a beautiful city, but this chapter had closed. Koshijiro felt at peace, as the old capital disappeared from their sight.

Fortunately, the trip home was smooth and on schedule. Koshijiro couldn’t fully relax, not until they arrived at the train station in Tokyo. However, they were definitely noticed in town, and because they’d been gone for so long, everyone who crossed their path wanted to talk. Each conversation was brief, just an inquiry of how they were doing, but it added up. Once there was a lull, they exchanged looks and broke into a collective sprint for the Kamiya dojo.

The gate was already open, and newly decorated with flowers. In front of the house, there were familiar faces. Dr. Gensai, his granddaughters, Tae, and Tsubame exclaimed in unison.

“Hello, everyone!”

“Oh man, we got quite a welcome.” Sagara grinned. “Where’d these flowers come from?”

“Fresh from the market.” Tae clasped Tsubame’s shoulders, beaming. “Tsubame picked out the colors.”

The girl blushed, about to excuse herself, but Yahiko walked up to her. The gift for her was in his other hand, behind his back. “Um, Tsubame. I got this from Kyoto.” He looked embarrassed, giving the small box to her, but he was watching her expression.

Even if she expected it, her mouth still opened in amazement. “O-oh. Yahiko-kun, you didn’t have to…”

“Well, I can’t return it. You don’t have to open it now.” He muttered, balefully noticing the gazes of everyone else. Koshijiro stifled a laugh.

“Alright.” She squeaked. “Thank you so much. I…I’ll find out what it is later.”

“Come on,” Sagara said under his breath. “We had a bet going on.”

“Takani-san, it’s good to have you back!” Dr. Gensai greeted her. “The patients have been asking after you, they’ve missed your care.”

“I’m sorry for my extended absence, but I’m ready to return to work.” She smiled. “And I missed them too.”

Ayame and Suzume had been darting from person to person, dancing around their legs. They approached Koshijiro, cheering. “You’re home, you’re home!”

“Yes, we are. We’re home.” Koshijiro nodded, patting their arms. He was going to lead the way into the house, when he sensed Kaoru wasn’t following, so he turned once more.

She was waiting for Himura, her hand outstretched to him. “Kenshin. Welcome home.”

“This one is home.” Himura smiled. He walked to Kaoru, stopping before her, and for a split second, his gaze met Koshijiro’s. Then, he took Kaoru’s hand, and as her eyes widened, he quickly squeezed her fingers. He had already let go before Koshijiro could say anything about it. Kaoru had frozen at the contact as well. Himura gestured for her to keep walking, saying in an almost too casual tone. “What should we have for dinner? This one can make something.”

“A-are you sure?” Kaoru stammered, her fingers slowly curling into her palm.

“This one has missed cooking.” He insisted.

“Well, I’ve missed eating your cooking.” Her response made him laugh.

Koshijiro kept his eyes glued to them the whole time, thinking about how to address the hand squeeze. He wouldn’t forget that easily. However, they were home at last, and it deserved celebrating.

For now, all was well.

Chapter Text

Koshijiro made the proposition over breakfast. “Kaoru? When would you like to celebrate your birthday?”

“Huh? It’s already August.” She sipped from her bowl of miso, raising her eyebrows.

“It is overdue, but I was absent for last year’s as well. If you’d like, we can spend a day in town. I’ll cover every expense.”

Immediately, she brightened. “Then, why don’t we all do something at the end of the week? How does Friday sound?” She looked across the table, meeting the eyes of the others.

Sagara was the first to decline. “Actually, I already had plans with Katsu and some other guys. Hope you have fun though.”

“Same, I signed up for an extra shift at the Akabeko.” Yahiko resumed shoveling rice grains into his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s alright. And of course, Megumi probably has patients.” Kaoru’s gaze drifted towards the empty space where the doctor usually sat. She was diving into her work lately, especially since there was no progress from Aizu yet. The only update was that the department was continuing to scour through reports of missing persons.

“This one will come along.” Himura spoke up. His voice didn’t betray any eagerness, but his smile widened. Even more so, when Kaoru leaned towards him with a delighted expression.

Koshijiro gave a slight nod. “So, it will be the three of us.” In fact, he couldn’t complain. He had meant to address a particular hand-squeezing incident. The weekend was spent recovering from travel, and it felt like time was slipping away beneath them.

“It’ll be fun!” Kaoru began to clear away the dishes. “Kenshin, do you know what season you were born in?”

He blinked at her, obviously surprised by the question. “Oro? This one thinks it was summer, in June.”

June was also the month Kaoru was born in. She beamed, reveling in the similarity. “Really? Me too! Why don’t we celebrate together? Right, Otou-san?”

“I don’t see why not. Then, let’s plan for Friday.”

Fortunately, it was a pleasant morning; white clouds billowed across the sky, a refreshing wind cooling their faces as they walked out of the house. Although Koshijiro didn’t mention it, he noticed that his daughter had dressed up. Her lips were tinted with the Kyoto rouge, and she wore a kimono he’d rarely seen. It was a very light blue, mizu-iro, and like water itself, the fabric was smooth and sleek. Her ponytail was bound in the flower-patterned ribbon that Himura had won for her.

“Kaoru-dono, what do you have in mind for today?” To an outsider, Himura wasn’t acting out of the ordinary. However, his gaze had lingered on her hair when she left her room and his smile hadn’t faltered at all.

“I have some ideas but I was thinking about visiting Okaa-san’s grave first.” She glanced at Koshijiro.

A bittersweet feeling overcame him. The sorrowful ache over Kyoko’s absence, the wistfulness that she could see their girl now, and pride for Kaoru’s filial piety. “If we do, I’d like to buy flowers for her. I tended the family plot while you were away, but the deutzia must have withered already.” 

This time, chrysanthemums were abundant and a bright yellow cluster was suitable. The headstones didn’t need another scrubbing, but Kaoru lit incense for all three before addressing her mother’s. “Hi, Okaa-san.” She softly greeted, clasping her hands together. “I came home safely, with Otou-san and Kenshin. Oh, Kenshin, you’ve never been here before.”

“No, but this one will pay respects too.” He mirrored her, bowing his head. It was a kind gesture, and Kaoru gave a little smile before resuming.

A breeze swept through, carrying the incense’s fragrance, and Koshijiro closed his eyes. No one spoke, and when Kaoru made a slight movement, they quietly shuffled away together.

“Okaa-san never went to the old capital.” She thoughtfully mused. “I think she would have liked touring around.”

“She was certainly curious. Years ago, before you were born, we read novels that were set in Kyoto. I can’t recall any of the titles now though.”

“Because you were completely focused on Okaa-san.” His daughter gave a knowing grin. “Speaking of which, I’d like to buy more books. I’ve run out of reading material, and Tae wrote me a list of recommendations.”

There were plenty of bookstores, but their favorite place required a longer walk. It had been established at the beginning of the Meiji era, and the growing translations of Western texts had earned a separate shelf. Kaoru took her time perusing, Himura trailing behind. From Koshijiro’s observations, he didn’t read as much for pleasure, and while he looked about in his usual mild-mannered way, he only skimmed the titles.

“They’re rarer, but books of kenjutsu can be located in the back corner.” Koshijiro abruptly said. “If you’re interested, Himura-san.”

He seemed to consider it. “This one didn’t have a formal education in the sword. Shishou is…blunt in his explanations, and after this one left, there was even less from this one’s superiors.”

“I have no doubts regarding your skill and experience, but there is value in recognizing the history. It is never too late to learn.”

“That is certainly what a teacher would say.” Himura smiled. “And what about Kamiya Kasshin’s book?”

Koshijiro was surprised. “You’ve read it?”

“He was in the dojo when I showed Yahiko a few pages.” Kaoru clarified. “Yesterday, Yahiko wanted to know more about the succession techniques. You were at work, so I brought out the book. And you’ve already started adding the one-handed version!”

“The three kata I have worked out so far, and Hizadome. I may have to edit in the future. It isn’t as polished as the books that are published.”

“Well, nobody else could write about ‘the sword that protects life’.” Kaoru argued. Perhaps unconsciously, they had drifted to the back corner. “Every page conveyed your true thoughts, Otou-san. Even Yahiko said it was like he was hearing your voice.”

“This one agrees. Kamiya-dono’s words were forthright and thorough. If there were previous edits, this one could not tell.” Himura lifted a volume, inspecting the cover. “Is this a good one for history?”

Kaoru burst into laughter, and Koshijiro answered. “It’s intended for beginners. But it was a favorite of Kaoru’s when she was younger.”

“I still have my copy at home.” She managed to say.

“Ah, is that so? May this one borrow yours?”

“Of course!”

Kaoru had chosen two slim books for her own leisure, and while she paid, Koshijiro tucked them under his arm. He ignored her sound of protest. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold them.”

“Otou-san…” She rolled her eyes but continued to lead on.

They spent the next hour in the marketplace, discovering what was newly available. Artisans were advertising their latest creations, woodblocks and pottery and metalworks. A store selling beauty products had opened, but the sight of the long line caused them to steer clear. The little detour took them past a kimono shop, and when Kaoru lingered, Koshijiro nodded.

“Let’s go inside. You deserve a new outfit.”

“I don’t really need anything new!”

“And I owe you for two birthdays. I said I would cover every expense.” He stepped past her to enter the quaint building. The employees called out a greeting, which he easily returned. The interior was well-organized, and there was a wealth of options. Towards the front, the dyes were vivid, brightly suitable for young girls. Further within, there were stands that showcased lavish formal attire, though the majority were targeted for women with families of their own. The summer yukata were giving way to the warmer colors and weaves for autumn. Nothing was obviously Western, but some of the patterns were more modern, experimenting with recent fashion.

“Geez, Otou-san’s survival was enough of a present.” Kaoru grumbled. “Oh…this is pretty.” She had caved, her fingertips hovering over a bolt of green fabric. Himura looked over her shoulder, examining it as well.

A matronly woman, a few years older than Koshijiro, approached. Her bearing was the picture of self-assurance; she seemed to be the shopkeeper and addressed Kaoru. “We have limited supply of that silk, but we can tailor what we have to fit you. Would you be willing to have your measurements taken? Your father and husband can wait here.”

Koshijiro struggled to maintain a neutral face, while Kaoru blushed. “Well, you’re half right. Otou-san, Kenshin, I’ll be right back.” She followed the shopkeeper to the rear end, behind a folding screen for privacy. Soon enough, she was chatting with the seamstresses, who thought her eyes were pretty.

Himura’s face was turned away from Koshijiro, so his expression couldn’t be discerned. A cloud of awkward silence descended. Koshijiro gave a cursory scan to the rest of the place, but anything would have looked suitable on his daughter.

“You seem to be at a loss, Kamiya-dono.” Himura quietly noted.

“If there were kenjutsu uniforms, I could help in choosing. Otherwise, I am useless in these matters.”

Himura smiled. “You say that, but you are a doting father.”

Embarrassed, he deflected. “It’s also what her mother would have done.” If Kyoko was living, the two of them would have enjoyed picking out clothes together, like how they did in the past. Kyoko’s features had livened up, Kaoru grinning as she showed off what she was interested in.

“From her portrait, she looked like a gentle person. Kaoru-dono resembles her very much.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Koshijiro paused. “And like my wife did, Kaoru displays her emotions freely. It is easy for her to befriend people, and she’s usually the one who first reaches out. When we came home, I noticed that you took her hand.”

A heartbeat followed, as Himura broke eye contact. However, he wasn’t trying to escape Koshijiro’s gaze; instead, he extended his fingers, recalling the moment. “In this one’s duel with Shishio, this one was close to death. This one had near misses in the past, but it was the first time it was extremely dire. And amidst the encroaching darkness, Kaoru-dono’s words resonated. To go home together, to return to Tokyo together. That thought compelled this one to summon the last of his strength. This one could not have won, without the will to live.”

“You’ve already told Kaoru this.” He phrased it like a question, though he had overheard the tail end of their conversation.

“Yes. When we were finally back and she offered her hand, it was…important to this one. It felt like this one’s deepest wish was heard. This one intended to share that sentiment, to tell her the journey to Kyoto was finally over and not in vain.”

“We understood you didn’t want to leave, but we couldn’t let you endure the burden alone. That is what family means.” Koshijiro resolutely said. “So, was that all you felt, when you held her hand?”

Himura stared at him. His expression was usually carefully placid, but for an instant, there was a slip in his composure. He knew what Koshijiro was implying, the unspoken question of what he felt for Kaoru.

“Alright, I’m done!” Kaoru interrupted, walking briskly towards them.

Himura’s answer would have to wait another day, and he inquired. “How did it go?”

“It was nice to feel, but the price is beyond our budget. I’ll keep looking.” She insisted. Half an hour later, she settled on a soft gold like the color of the harvest moon, embroidered with five-petaled vermillion flowers, falling towards the hem. It would be elegant, and the price was reasonable. The shop informed them it would be ready in a couple weeks, and they took their leave.

At the end of the street, there was another shop, with a wider range of clothing. Judging by the view offered through a glass window, the attire was targeted more towards men.

“Look, they have Western hats.” Kaoru was intrigued. “I wonder if they were made here or shipped from overseas.”

“Would you like a hat, Kaoru-dono?”

“Not for me, but I think you could wear one.” She smiled thoughtfully. “Soon, it’ll be getting colder, and a hat will keep your head warm.”

“This one wouldn’t know how to decide.” He demurred.

Koshijiro seized the opportunity to suggest. “It doesn’t have to be a hat. You can choose whatever you’d like. Every expense includes yours.”

Himura was taken aback. “Oro?!”

“This is also your birthday outing, and you deserve to have clothes of your own. Please, go ahead. Or if there’s another place you’d rather visit, we can follow.”

“No, this one has no issue with this store, but…” He scratched the back of his neck, uncharacteristically flustered. “Thank you. Kaoru-dono and Kamiya-dono, this one is grateful for your kindness.”

There were more customers here, but that was alright; Himura already knew what he wanted. A gi for the impending fall season, possibly thick enough to wear in the winter too.

The task sparked Kaoru’s enthusiasm. “This purple isn’t too bad, but…no, it reminds me of eggplant and not the fresh kind. Or what about stripes?” She held the fabric to Himura’s chest, trying to determine if it was suitable. Was it the crowdedness or was Himura blushing?

In the end, they decided on red, very similar to his favorite. The owner was fascinated by Himura’s coloring and believed that outfitting him would make for excellent publicity. A flat gray hat was added to the bargain, almost for free. The gi’s sleeves had to be adjusted before they left, and Koshijiro paid the total while Himura was being fitted.

He sensed his daughter’s gaze and cut a glance to her. “What is it?”

“Nothing! I’m happy.” She beamed, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

He smiled at the top of her head. The part in her hair brought up a memory of when she was a baby, sleeping against his shoulder. “That’s all I ask.”

At this point, it was lunchtime, and they stopped by home to drop off the new purchases. Kaoru hurried into her room, grabbing her kenjutsu book and offering it with one hand. “Here, Kenshin. Take good care of it, okay?”

“This one will.” He accepted the copy, but she seemed to hesitate. In fact, she looked shy.

“Um, I have something else for you.” Her other hand was behind her back, and she slowly revealed a folded square. “I started sewing after the battle, but I was able to finish it last night. It’s a handkerchief.”

“Kaoru-dono…” He visibly swallowed, gently taking it from her fingers. He held one corner, letting the fabric cascade. “It’s beautiful.”

The handkerchief was between blue and gray, with an embroidery of maple leaves along the diagonal crease. The impression was that the leaves were floating on a pond’s surface or tossed into an overcast sky. Koshijiro thought it was fine work.

“I’m just glad you like it.” Kaoru nervously laughed.

“This one does. Very much.” He was focused on her, intensely so. Then, he jolted. “This one also had a gift, though it doesn’t compare. This one intended to surprise you but would you like to see it now?”

“I’d love to. Kenshin, I didn’t expect you to do anything.” She said, as he led the way into the yard. Specifically, the shed.

He opened the door. “This one didn’t exactly work on it. In the market, this one spotted the first and requested the entire set.”

Kaoru was standing in front, and she gasped, rushing to the left wall. When she knelt, Koshijiro saw what she had received. A row of four clay pots, each containing a pair of white lilies. “Are these for the garden?”

“Yes, this one intended to plant them later today…” He crouched as well, an arm’s length away.

“It can wait, today’s for celebrating.” She leaned close to the petals, breathing in the sweet perfume.

“That’s true. Happy birthday, two months late.”

“And happy birthday to you too. Thank you so much.” Her smile was brilliant.

A few seconds passed, before Koshijiro made his presence known with a clearing of his throat. “The handkerchief and the lilies are both lovely. We can stay in for lunch, if you two prefer.”

“Oh, no.” Kaoru stood once more, brushing herself off. “I was looking forward to eating kushiyaki. The skewers in Kyoto weren’t the same.”

They had a pleasant meal in a grassy area, like an outdoor picnic. The grilled sweetfish and vegetables had the aroma of charcoal, and just the right amount of salt. With the rising heat, the refreshing texture of mizu yokan was appropriate for dessert. Once the small portions of lightly sweetened agar were finished off, they lingered to enjoy the weather before diving back into the bustle of town.

“Where are we headed to next?” Koshijiro asked.

Kaoru tapped her chin with her index finger. “The new theater always has plays, and I heard that a famous rakugo performer is having a show today.” However, that plan never came to fruition.

“Hey, it’s Kenshin!” A young boy called out, and a glimpse through the crowd revealed that it was Eiji. He was alone, shouldering a small sack, and he caught up to them. “Kamiya-san, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you too. And you’re Kamiya Kaoru, aren’t you?”

Kaoru blinked. “That’s right. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“Eiji-kun is the boy who this one met on the road to Kyoto.” Himura explained.

“Ah, so you’re Eiji-kun! It’s nice to meet you. Kenshin’s already using the basket you made him.”

Eiji was more bashful than Yahiko about compliments, and his ears reddened as he scuffed the dirt with his shoe. “That’s good. Tokio-san said I can weave more in my free time. I don’t want to forget knowing how, because Saito-san is going to train me soon.”

“When he returns?” Himura attempted to clarify, but Eiji shook his head.

“He’s already home.”

“Oro?”

“What the heck?! But Otou-san, you said he wasn’t at work this week.” Kaoru turned to him.

“I wasn’t aware he was in Tokyo.” Even Koshijiro couldn’t conceal his surprise. “No one at the station told me.”

“Well, he showed up late last night. He didn’t sleep in this morning either, but Tokio-san told me he needs to rest. Do you want to talk to him?”

Himura recovered first. “This one has been meaning to. However, it can wait until Saito has recovered.”

“It’s fine. He’s acting like normal, anyway.” Eiji took the quickest route. He was now accustomed to traversing the streets, and he looked like he had filled out, his appearance healthier. He had adjusted well to living in Tokyo.

When they reached the house, Tokio was sweeping the front step. Her eyes widened, and then, she smiled. “Eiji-kun, I only sent you to buy more buckwheat flour.”

“I met them on the way back. Is it okay for them to visit?”

“I have no issue, but go and see him first. He’s on a smoke break. Kamiya-san, I’m glad to see that you’re well.” She accepted the flour sack and gestured for them to step inside, introducing herself. “I’m Saito Tokio. Himura-san, I suppose, and you must be Kamiya Kaoru. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.”

“Likewise.” Himura nodded. “Your husband has spoken very favorably of you.”

At that moment, a loud pattering preceded the arrival of the youngest family member. Tsutomu stared at the unfamiliar faces, as he walked over to his mother.

“And this is Tsutomu.” Tokio wryly said. “You remember Kamiya-san, don’t you? And to the others, say hello.”

“…H’lo.”

Kaoru and Himura had been surprised by the little boy’s appearance, but they met the toddler at eye level. Kaoru waved. “Hi there, Tsutomu-chan. You’re a cutie, hm?”

Himura had extended his fingers, coaxing. “Can you shake?”

Tsutomu readily did, and his smile had more teeth than Koshijiro last recalled. He then turned to Kaoru, clutching her knee.

She looked to Tokio. “Is it alright if I hold him?”

“Yes, he seems to like you.”

Kaoru lifted the boy by the armpits, rising to her feet as well, and easily perched him on her hip. “There we go!” Her pose was natural; when the dojo was filled with students, she would often play with the youngest children during breaks. She was occupied with making entertaining expressions, that she didn’t notice Himura’s considering stare.

Tokio lightly remarked. “I’ve actually wanted to talk with you, Kaoru-san. Your father can attest to that. Eiji-kun, why don’t you show him and Himura-san to the yard?”

“Sure.” Eiji dutifully obeyed, beckoning them to follow.

Saito was standing in the center, his left hand raised to his mouth. He was in such deep thought that he didn’t immediately react when Eiji called out to him. Then, he did a double take and coughed on his cigarette. He had never lost his composure before. Smoke trailed out of his mouth, as he harshly asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Eiji-kun was kind enough to invite us.” Koshijiro coolly replied. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good that you returned safely.” Himura added. “This one hopes your mission was successful.”

“Productive.” He took another pull. “I accomplished my objective.”

“Uncovering Shishio’s supporters?”

“Yes. They’ve been dealt with, swiftly and appropriately. Nothing more, nothing less.” His tone was ominous. “And how is your investigation progressing, Kamiya-san? Sawagejo reported that he’s keeping surveillance on a Chinese company.”

“There are some potential candidates among the higher-ups, but we haven’t definitively identified the source yet.”

“Keep me updated. All of the others denied knowledge of the warship’s backer, even after persuasive measures. That isn’t promising.” It was an unusually honest admission.

“It would mean this person acted alone.” Himura carefully said.

“Alone, on their own terms. Either Shishio was sticking his burnt fingers in darker business, or this person crept out of the shadows to make use of him. I can sense evil, but I can’t grasp it.” He crushed the remnants of his cigarette without flinching.

“Can this one assist?”

“Weren’t you on the verge of death?” Saito bluntly retorted. “You must be deconditioned. Focus on your own ability, before you offer anything you can’t give.”

If Himura was annoyed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he dipped his head. “You are well aware, of where you can find this one.”

“And I’d like to be informed too.” Koshijiro said. “The flow of information goes both ways. We can only help each other if we compare notes.”

“Outside of the station. Not a word while we’re on the clock.” But Saito agreed. He walked towards them, placing a hand on Eiji’s shoulder. “Eiji-kun can relay a message in an emergency.”

“Because I’m his apprentice!” Eiji puffed up, proud of his new role.

“So, if you want notes, come and see them now.”

Inside, the sound of laughter was audible; Kaoru and Tokio were sitting at the table, a tea tray between them. Tsutomu had found his way to his mother’s lap, idly playing with a temari ball while the women conversed. Kaoru was in the midst of telling a story, and from the occasional sentence that drifted past, it was of a past tournament where Kamiya Kasshin had placed first among the participants.

Saito didn’t stop, sliding a door that presumably led to his workspace. It was as organized as his space in the police department, and he unlocked a desk drawer with a small key, removing files. “Of course, I looked into the backgrounds of most of the Ten Swords. Sadojima and Komagata were of particular interest, since they were the primary negotiators for anyone who came into contact with the group.”

Himura began sifting through. “Were there any from overseas?”

“Where would I even start?” Saito scoffed. “China itself is a vast nation, if that’s what you were leading up to.”

“It was, but this one doubts our mystery individual manipulated only Shishio. In other words, it is likely that Shishio is the latest addition to a grander scheme. If there were other criminal cases that were funded in similar ways, it could be worth investigating.”

“If we obtain a solid lead.” He was dismissive but said as an afterthought. “I have contacts who are more versed in international matters.”

They continued to read and discuss, until there was a gentle knocking. Tokio peered in, light spilling from behind her. “It’ll soon be sunset. Do you need candles?”

Koshijiro sharply inhaled, hastily restoring the papers in his hand to their original location. “We’re late. Himura-san, Kaoru, we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

The door opened further, revealing Kaoru’s regretful face. “Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, and I was caught up in talking to Tokio-san.”

“It’s alright. We still have time.” Himura reassured. They put on their shoes, the sun was already dipping towards the horizon. “We’re going home to meet with the others, but we are eating at the Akabeko tonight. Would you like to join us?”

Tokio shook her head. “We already have dinner plans, but thank you for the offer. Perhaps, some other time? And if you wish, you can visit us whenever you’d like.”

Saito was obviously displeased. “Tokio…”

“Speaking of which, isn’t there something you have to say, dear?” She leveled a firm look at him.

An excruciating pause stretched on. At last, he sighed, narrowing his eyes at all of them. “Your effort was adequate. I appreciate it. Are you happy now?” He directed a forced smile to his wife.

“Not yet, but I have plenty of suggestions on how you can make it up to me, our son, and Eiji-kun.” There was a core of steel in her voice, and it was apparent that even Saito couldn’t withstand it. “Now then, we shouldn’t delay you three any further. I hope you have a good evening.”

“Take care, Tokio-san and Eiji-kun. Saito-san, I’ll see you at work.” Koshijiro said.

“Bring Himura, if he isn’t occupied with living softly.”

“You don’t have to worry.” Himura evenly replied. “This one is willing to assist.”

“It was really nice to meet you, Tokio-san.” Kaoru was suppressing a laugh. “And of course, Tsutomu-chan and Eiji-kun. Feel free to come to the dojo!”

The boys eagerly waved, and Tokio bowed at the waist. Saito gave the barest nod of acknowledgement, but the distance he had maintained was shrinking.

At their own front door, Yahiko and Sagara were already waiting. They were busying themselves with a game of Go, and judging by his frustration, Sagara was on the cusp of losing. He immediately broke off the match, loudly announcing. “Hey, it took you long enough! The only one missing is the fox.”

“And I’m right here!” Takani responded, as she stormed through the gate. Her red lips were pressed into a line. “I had to drop off my clinic bag at my place. And because I don’t forget my manners…happy birthday, Ken-san and Kaoru.” She pointedly said.

“Thank you, Megumi-dono.”

“Thanks, Megumi.”

Sagara grabbed Himura by the shoulder, digging his knuckles into red hair. “Congrats, Kenshin, you’re a whole year older! You too, Jou-chan.”

“Happy birthday.” Yahiko grinned. “Next year, we’ll have a better plan. Wait…are we gonna do a joint birthday every year?”

Himura tilted his head. “Oro?”

“Yahiko, why don’t we get through today first?” Nevertheless, Kaoru was faintly blushing. “Let’s go!”

The sky was a shade of wisteria as they approached the restaurant. Sagara and Yahiko were leading ahead, with Himura and Kaoru a few paces back. Koshijiro was about to catch up to them, when Takani murmured.

“I’ve received a letter from Aizu.” She had been trailing the group, and though she claimed to be tired, fatigue wasn’t the sole reason.

“The department didn’t contact me, but what did it say?”

“Nothing regarding my family.” She clarified. “It was written by a former colleague of my father’s. He runs a hospital but he’d like to open a clinic run by Aizu doctors. I’m always welcome there. But…I don’t think I can leave yet. We just came back and if I’m being conservative, everyone else is still recovering from their injuries. I sent my reply, that I need time to think it over.”

It seemed like she was conflicted, but Koshijiro only said. “That’s understandable. It is a serious decision.”

“Yes, it is.” She lapsed into silence again and picked up her pace to join the rest of the group.

The interior of the Akabeko was brightly lit, and when they entered, a cheer went up. “Happy birthday!” Every face was recognizable. Dr. Gensai, with his family. Maekawa and Sachi, his students and those from other dojos. Sano’s friend, Tsunan, and acquaintances from town they had spoken to and helped. Chief Uramura had brought his wife and daughter, and the rookies were in attendance.

Tae beamed, showing them to their table. “It’s a special occasion, so Sagara-kun and Yahiko-kun invited everybody they could think of.”

“Almost everyone.” Sagara amended. “The carpenter was unfortunately busy.”

The curtain to the kitchen lifted, and Tsubame set down a sheet of paper. “I found it, Tae-san! This is the menu for the birthday dinner.”

“Good job, Tsubame, I was worried I misplaced it. It’s a selection of your favorite dishes, Kaoru. Kenshin-san, I believe your tastes align with hers, but request whatever you’d like. And save room for dessert, I tried making kasutera for the first time. It’s not too bad!” She confided.

Kaoru had been stunned from the moment they walked in, but now, she laughed, wiping her eyes. “Geez, everyone, this is amazing! Really, it’s the best birthday I’ve had in a while. Kenshin?”

He didn’t respond right away, his throat working. “…Yes, this one feels the same. It is more than this one could have wished for.”

Applause broke out, especially from the people who had started drinking early. Koshijiro had resorted to tapping his porcelain cup with his chopsticks, and it was why he could hear Tsubame whisper. “Yahiko-kun, what about you?”

“Shh, Tsubame!” He hushed her, but Koshijiro caught on.

“Were you born in August, Yahiko?”

“Well…yeah. We can celebrate mine later, today is for those two.” He shrugged. 

“But I won’t forget. We’ll make sure to do something for you, before the month ends.”

“I’ll write it down too, on the paper you bought for me.” Tsubame smiled, intending to make use of his gift from Kyoto. Himura had been right, after all.

The atmosphere was raucous, and the food was excellent. And Kaoru was happy, warmly speaking with each guest. Everyone was having a good time, Koshijiro thought. That was when he noticed. In the corner of his eye, Himura was sitting still. He had pulled out the handkerchief and was staring at it once more, in deep contemplation.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to close the Akabeko!” Yahiko was being belligerent; so far, he had shot down every idea for his birthday plans. He resumed sweeping the restaurant floor with extra vigor. “It’s just another day.”

“It’s only for one night.” Tae chided. “Business is good, and everyone needs a break. Including you, Yahiko, you’ve been such a big help. But if you feel like it’s too much, it doesn’t have to be extravagant. Just dinner and a night out in Asakusa, before summer ends. The fireflies will be gone soon, and it would be nice to see them one last time. Right, Tsubame?”

She nodded, smiling at Yahiko. “It would be fun…if you want to.”

At last, his resistance crumbled and he muttered. “I guess it’s fine.”

“There we go, Yahiko!” Kaoru beamed, ruffling his hair. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Aw, come on! Don’t treat me like a little kid!” He looked desperately to Koshijiro. “You saw me earlier, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. You did very well.” He smiled at the boy, despite the flicker of unease.

In addition to Kaoru’s teaching, Himura was now providing training exercises to Yahiko. That was new. Yahiko was eager to practice his offensive maneuvers, even though he couldn’t break through Himura’s one-handed defense yet. Koshijiro had heard from Kaoru, but he hadn’t witnessed a session until today.

Sagara also did for the first time, and he had sprawled on the porch, cheering them on equally. When it ended, he said. “Kenshin, I didn’t know you were passing on Hiten Mitsurugi!”

“This one isn’t.” Himura replied, and Yahiko had exclaimed in protest.

“You’re not?! That’s what I thought we were doing! What the heck?”

“But you’ve become stronger through Kamiya Kasshin.” Himura gently countered. “This one thought to help you, in any way he can. Was that wrong?”

“In other words, you’ll have to beat him with Kamiya Kasshin.” Sagara added.

Yahiko was still flustered, but he couldn’t refute the point. “Well, I appreciate it. So, we’re still training tomorrow too!”

And then, they went their separate ways: Sagara to the clinic for a follow-up visit, Yahiko to work, and Kaoru to visit Tae and Tsubame. Koshijiro had tagged along because he hadn’t eaten lunch yet, but his immediate tasks were completed and he planned to return to the dojo first. Himura was doing the laundry, falling back into the comfortable routine of housework. It suited him, and his smile never faltered. And yet…Koshijiro couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

He ate quickly and excused himself. “Asakusa will be nice. The plan is for Saturday?”

“Yes, because that’s the last day of the month.” Kaoru confirmed. “I’ll be home by sunset, Otou-san.”

“Alright. It’s getting dark earlier, so if you run late, ask one of my colleagues to escort you. I’ll see you later.” He patted her head. She seemed embarrassed, especially when Yahiko’s derisive laughter drifted over.

While he walked, he considered how to approach Himura. They’d be alone, so they could talk freely. He had no doubt that Himura would be honest, but how to start the conversation was difficult. It was only a sense of intuition on Koshijiro’s part, that Himura was acting carefully. As if he couldn’t relax. Why else would he offer to train Yahiko, after all this time? And for that matter, they still had to continue their discussion regarding Kaoru…

That hope was dashed when Sagara called out, and the young man sprinted to catch up. “Hey, old man. Heading back already?”

“Yes, I am. Are you coming too?”

“Yeah, I was told to rest, so I might as well hang around. There’s yokan in the well, and I told Kenshin to save some for me.”

A few paces later, Koshijiro remarked. “You were the last one to leave. How was he?”

“You’ve noticed it, right?” Sagara meaningfully glanced towards him. “It’s like he’s drawn a line and he isn’t willing to step over it.”

“That’s an astute description.”

“The fox agreed, when I said it.”

“I was thinking of mentioning it to him.”

“Uh, I don’t think you’re the right person for that.”

“Why not?”

“If I were in his shoes and something was bothering me, I wouldn’t want to look bad in front of the father of the girl I love.” Sagara gave Koshijiro a friendly smack between the shoulders. “You know it’s true.”

Koshijiro certainly remembered that particular feeling, but he maintained a neutral expression. “Then, would you talk to him?”

“I’m waiting for the right moment, it’s seriously bothering me. Jou-chan too, but she’s not going to bring it up unless he does. She understands he won’t leave; she’s changed since our trip to Kyoto.” Sagara’s grin widened. “And you’ve changed too, huh? You were all about distance, with the arm’s length rule and hovering around.”

He evaded. “I haven’t abolished the rule.”

“No, but I’m counting down the days until you do. They’re good for each other, you’re just digging in your heels. Kenshin might look composed, but I swear he’s dying of blue balls.”

“Sagara-san, that is very inappropriate.” Koshijiro sternly admonished.

“What, your former students never talked like I did?”

“They did, and I was your age once; I’m well aware of what young men discuss. But Kaoru is my daughter.”

“And Kenshin is my best friend. Of course, I’m taking his side.”

They were approaching the house, and Koshijiro unlocked the gate. “Well, we’re both looking out for them. We can leave it at that.”

“Sure, sure.”

In the yard, Himura was watering the row of lilies, and he looked up with a smile. “This one thought he heard your voices. Welcome home.”

“Yes, we’re back.” Koshijiro nodded, studying him carefully.

Sagara hurried to the well, where the yokan was chilled, and eagerly recovered the dessert. “Alright, snack time! You better join me inside, or I’ll eat it all.” He removed his shoes and jumped onto the porch, before heading in.

“Kamiya-dono…”

Koshijiro turned to Himura. “Yes?”

He visibly swallowed, glancing away and murmuring. “Dinner will be cold udon. Is there a specific topping you would like?”

He’s still holding back. What is he thinking of, to make him so troubled?

Koshijiro held his gaze for a second longer, before gesturing to the sliding door. “I believe we have some eggs and I prefer them soft-boiled. Any of the leftover vegetables should be eaten too. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” His words contained a double meaning. In response, Himura only inclined his head and went into the house.

Half the yokan was already gone when they rejoined Sagara. He was shuffling a deck for a Western card game, because he claimed that practice would help him win big at the gambling dens. Learning the rules proved to be a distraction. Time flew by easily, though Himura didn’t let down his guard again. Koshijiro kept a close eye, but that invisible distance remained. Then, Kaoru and Yahiko announced their return, and the thread was left loose.

Some progress had been made on the investigation. Sawagejo reported that all of the higher-ups of the Chinese enterprise were from Shanghai, but he was unable to discern a further hierarchy amongst them. If anything, they seemed to undermine each other. At this, Saito had grimaced.

“These are still the subordinates. The leader isn’t here.”

“But Shanghai is a new place of interest.” Koshijiro commented. “Could you notify your contacts now?”

“I was intending to.” He sent the telegram within the hour, before tasking Sawagejo to gather information from the streets. “Even I know that Shanghai has a notorious crime rate. See if you can acquire specifics about who’s active and dealing with Japan.”

“Sure, I can do that.” With a two-fingered salute, he strode out. Then, he doubled back, hissing. “Oh, Kamiya-san, don’t forget about the balloons!”

“Don’t worry, I was about to share.” That was a breakthrough that Koshijiro had discovered in the morning. Under Saito’s narrow gaze, he relayed the conversation he had with Sawagejo on the train. With his downtime, he had looked into imports of large luxury items and came across a shipment of hot air balloons. They were in Osaka but today, four of the balloons had been removed from the stock, sailing towards Yokohama.

“So, you think Shishio’s backer is into hot air balloons?” Saito deadpanned.

“We don’t know this person’s motives. But at the moment, I’m not interested in speculating. The ship is going to stop for fuel in Tokyo. If the balloons never make it to Yokohama…someone will come looking.” He said purposefully.

By the glimmer in Saito’s eyes, it was an amenable idea. “I’ll send a team to collect.”

That was the last update, and Koshijiro left the station feeling optimistic. He could enjoy dinner and the trip to Asakusa with a clear head.

A new sign by the Akabeko’s entrance declared that they would be closing early. He had arrived with thirty minutes to spare. He was about to announce he was present, when Tae raised her voice.

“You two were finally doing well! You should stop by more often, I’ll give you a makeover.” She was examining Kaoru’s face, to her protest. “Not a lot of makeup, of course, you’re naturally beautiful already, but just a touch so you don’t look too sweaty-”

“Tae! You don’t need to worry about me! And what about yourself?! You’re twenty-nine, aren’t you?” Her outburst caused Tae to fall silent, and while her expression wasn’t visible from Koshijiro’s perspective, her stiff posture conveyed it anyway.

Tsubame gave a cry of horror. “Kaoru-san, you shouldn’t say that out loud!”

“…Is this a bad time?” Koshijiro ventured. Obviously, the girls were having a spirited discussion.

“Not at all, Kamiya-san!” Tae whirled around, her face flushed. “You’re right on time!”

Kaoru was also flustered, and she peered behind Koshijiro. “Hi, Otou-san. Oh, Kenshin’s not with you?”

“No, I came directly from work.” He scanned the dining area. Himura was the sole absence; even Sagara wasn’t late.

“That’s odd.” Takani tilted her head in concern. “I was at the clinic all day, but I thought Ken-san was at the dojo. I wonder what’s keeping him.”

Koshijiro took a seat. “Well, there’s still time. He must be on an errand.”

The front curtain lifted and they automatically looked, but it wasn’t Himura. A large man walked in, his bulky frame taking up the entire aisle. But Koshijiro’s gaze was caught on the man’s right arm, where there was no hand. He had been amputated above the wrist, the stump wrapped in winding cloth. He had coarse features, which contorted in brief surprise upon noticing Koshijiro’s loss.

“Welcome!” Tae greeted the customer. “What can I get you?”

“The cheapest meal.” The man lumbered to the nearest table and remained quiet. Occasionally, he glanced towards the back of the restaurant, directly at Koshijiro. Then, he remarked. “When did you lose your arm?”

“About a year ago, in Satsuma.” The admission felt odd. A year had passed, but it felt like time had flown so quickly.

The man didn’t respond, not giving a word regarding how he’d lost his. Most likely, he wasn’t coping. With the bandages, how recently was he injured? And he was sitting alone. Koshijiro had thought it was fortunate that he returned alive, but he was even more grateful that he had the dojo and his family. A reason was needed to live on, and this stranger had not found it yet.

Tae exited the kitchen and Yahiko did a double take at what she was carrying. “Huh? You’re giving him the salmon set? But soba is cheapest…”

“It’s alright, I’m charging him the price of soba.”

“Don’t do it.” Sagara cut in with a grimace. “Pitying him is more insulting than buckwheat noodles.”

“It’s not pity. With his condition, he’s obviously a war veteran, like Kamiya-san.” Tae looked to Koshijiro, sympathy in her gaze. “It’s the least I can do, to repay such sacrifice.”

“That’s kind of you, Sekihara-san.”

Sagara wasn’t moved. “Well, I wonder how he’ll take it…”

They probably weren’t discreet, as they watched Tae serve the man. A pause followed, before he said. “I ordered the cheapest meal…but I’ll accept your generosity, ma’am.”

Tsubame sighed in relief, while Kaoru nudged Sagara’s side. “See? Kindness is always recognized for what it is. I don’t think you’ve recovered from Kyoto yet.”

“That’s what tonight’s for, isn’t it?” But he cracked a smile.

Tae was bringing the customer more tea, when he stood. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Oh, are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“I don’t want to impose. You’re closing soon.” He glanced again at Koshijiro and slightly nodded. Then, he left his money on the table and exited.

Only a moment later, Himura slipped through the curtain. They must have run into each other outside the building, and Himura was still looking in the stranger’s direction. He didn’t turn towards them, until Kaoru approached.

“Kenshin?”

His expression was conflicted, tinged with melancholy. Or was it regret? “…This one was helping a lost grandfather. He asked for directions downtown.”

“That’s sweet of you. And you’re just on time.” She led him to their table with a smile, which he tentatively returned. When he met Koshijiro’s gaze, his eyes dropped to the empty sleeve. Usually, he avoided looking at it out of courtesy; he was definitely out of sorts.

The dinner menu was an assortment of Yahiko’s favorite foods, and he asked for multiple helpings, which pleased Tae to no end. After they finished eating, she sent the staff to their respective homes and locked the Akabeko. The light of the setting sun reflected off the red paint, lending a vibrant glow to the building. It looked beautiful.

Then, they kicked off the evening and the plan quickly deviated. They took a detour to the Yamashita Monnai Museum, to see the exotic animals that had been housed there since the Vienna Exposition five years ago. There was a wide variety. Familiar rabbits and dogs. More exotic animals like wildcats and peacocks. There were a few that none of them had ever seen, creatures called buffalo as well as small black birds that mimicked voices. Yahiko was most excited about the bear enclosure, though the bears were already sleeping. However, he watched them with bright eyes, whispering excitedly when an ear flicked or a dreamy snort escaped. Tsubame seemed to observe his expression more than the animals.

When the museum’s visiting hours ended, they resumed their trek to Asakusa, heading for Hanayashiki. It was a flower garden, but there were new “play machines”. However, when they arrived, the machines were already being used by other guests, pushing against the metal limbs in small movements.

“What do you think, Yahiko? Are you impressed?” Sagara teased him.

“Nah. I’ve already seen crazier things happen.” Yahiko shrugged, unfazed. “Since we’re here, we can just walk around.”

None of the plays seemed to catch his attention, and the raunchier side of Asakusa was out of the question. Eventually, they meandered to a quiet field, away from the city lights. The last of the fireflies were emerging, lazily floating in the air. The girls strode further into the tall grass, but when Himura tried to follow Kaoru, Sagara clasped his shoulder.

“So, are you gonna share why you’re so gloomy? You can hide it from them, but the old man and I can tell.”

“Me too!” Yahiko added. “You’re a lot worse; any more and you’ll be like Aoshi.”

“Misao-dono wouldn’t enjoy hearing that.” Himura deflected, but he caved. Closing his eyes, he then said. “Kamiya-dono, you lost your arm in an explosion. But how would you feel if someone was responsible?”

“For my left arm?” He paused. “Technically, someone fired the cannon in Satsuma, but I understand that’s not what you mean. You knew that man in the Akabeko, didn’t you?”

“Yes. In the battle of Toba Fushimi, we were on opposing sides. This one cut off his right hand, and he begged for the end, to have a warrior’s death. But this one could not give it. This one was already tired of killing, and told him to live peacefully in the new era. Even as this one walked away, he couldn’t accept it. This one was glad to see him alive after ten years…but it seemed as if he didn’t realize this one was Battousai.”

The wind was picking up, bringing the chill of night. It was getting late. Koshijiro replied. “To answer your question, I wouldn’t blame the other person. However, this isn’t about my reaction. It’s about yours. It was unexpected to meet the man again, and your guilt has returned. I’d like to ask you this. Which would you have regretted more: cutting off his hand or killing him?”

“Killing him.” He readily said.

“Then, your decision was sound. And this man was alive. He could have killed himself in the past ten years, or succumbed to vice. He seemed polite to Sekihara-san. Even though he requested the cheapest meal at the Akabeko, he didn’t drink anything stronger than tea. Those are good signs.” He left out the observation about the man’s wrapped stump, but that wasn’t helpful now.

“He ate everything too.” Yahiko pointed out. “I guess that counts as gratitude.”

Himura hesitated. “Still…”

“I didn’t fight like you two had, and I get why you’d worry, Kenshin.” Sagara said. “But overthinking will bog you down. You’ve earned the peace you brought. Do you see the shadow of war in any of that?” He nodded to the girls.

Tsubame had managed to cup one between her hands, and Tae congratulated her. Takani was proper as ever, though a peaceful expression had settled on her face. And with a carefree smile, Kaoru lifted her hand, allowing a firefly to take off from her index finger.

“No.” Himura softly said. “Not at all.”

Then, the moment was shattered by a loud bang. Stronger than fireworks. Koshijiro froze. He could never forget such a sound.

A cannon was just fired. But from where…and what did it hit?

He locked eyes with Himura, who was just as worried. “The Armstrong cannon. Are there military exercises this late at night?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” A sense of foreboding overcame him. “We should head back anyway. Kaoru!” He urged the girls over, and as a group, they followed the road into town.

The bells were ringing, alerting the fire brigade was active. A chorus of voices rose from behind them, and they squeezed together on the sidewalk, waiting for the first responders to pass through. In the lanterns’ light, Koshijiro caught sight of familiar faces. He called out. “Chief Uramura?”

“Officer Kamiya!” The chief broke away from the rest of the officers. “It’s good you’re here. We need every man available.”

“I heard the cannon. Do we know anything?”

“The shot was fired from Mt. Ueno, and it was a direct hit on one of the restaurants. The Akabeko.”

Immediately, Koshijiro looked to Tae. Her face was drained of color. “My Akabeko?”

The chief was still talking. “The fire brigade’s on its way, but I’m sorry. It doesn’t look good. We’re setting a perimeter around Mt. Ueno and telling everyone to take shelter in case of more shots. This is an attack upon the city.”

“This one will go to the mountain.” Himura spoke up, his expression grim. Then, he sprinted off. “We can rejoin at the Akabeko!”

“Hold on, I’m coming too!” Sagara shouted, racing after him.

Yahiko refused to stay behind and he trailed in their wake. “Wait for me!”

“Yahiko, it’s too dangerous!” Kaoru warned but he ignored her. She blew out a breath in exasperation. “Well, I’m his teacher, so I’m going after him. Otou-san, I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful.” He watched her go, before escorting the remaining women to the Akabeko.

Even from the end of the street, there was a noticeable gap between the buildings adjacent to the restaurant. As they approached, the wreckage became visible. The beams were snapped, the second floor had collapsed onto the ground floor. Some officers were picking through the utter mess, clinking dish shards as they went. They were walking on the roof, Koshijiro realized, and everything underneath had been crushed. His heart sank.

Takani murmured the sentiment aloud. “How horrible.”

Tae cried out and she lifted a piece of wood from the dusty ground. It was the Akabeko’s sign, or the legible half of it. Tears welled in her eyes. “Gone…it’s completely destroyed. Who could have done this…?” She hugged the sign, and Tsubame clung to her waist, holding back sobs of her own.

“We’ll find out.” Koshijiro grimaced. He raised his voice, informing the officers of the owner’s presence.

They relayed the details, that it was fortunate nobody was inside or a fire hadn’t broken out. They were still searching for the cannonball. Tae denied having enemies, and doubted her competitors would have access to a cannon. While she spoke, Kaoru returned, one hand in Yahiko’s collar. He was staggering like a drunkard.

“Yahiko-kun, are you alright?” Tsubame gasped.

“He’s fine, he just overexerted himself. Kenshin and Sano outpaced him.” Kaoru explained, and she went to Tae, drawing her into a comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry. The two of you can stay at the dojo.”

“Thank you, but I’ll only trouble you for tonight.” Tae said, wiping her eyes. “In the morning, I’m going to Kyoto, to my parents’ house. I need to tell them about what’s happened. Tsubame-chan? You’ve been staying with me. Are you returning to your grandparents?”

“They live in Kawasaki…” She trailed off. “But I’d rather stay here.”

Yahiko had recovered his strength, and he awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Yeah, it’s better if you stick around. Are you okay?”

She nodded, hiccupping. “Thank you.”

It was already close to midnight, but they lingered at the ruined Akabeko, until they discerned Sagara and Himura’s silhouettes. Both of them seemed weary, especially Himura. He tersely explained. “The shot definitely came from Mt. Ueno. They haven’t found anyone yet.”

They went home, feeling on edge. But they safely reached the gate, without hearing cannonfire again. Tae and Tsubame were ushered into the house, Takani taking the lead in preparing their room.

However, Koshijiro didn’t remove his shoes. “I have to stop by the station. If there’s another attack, I should be prepared as backup.”

“I understand.” Kaoru gave a brave smile. “Are you sleeping there overnight?” It wasn’t the first time he had, but it had been years.

“I’ll try and sleep in between, but unless they dismiss me earlier, I’ll be home in the morning.” He waved and she responded in kind.

It was eerily quiet outside, and he did his best to hurry. The police station was bustling, and Koshijiro spotted the chief, standing in a corner. “Any news?”

Chief Uramura reiterated some of the story but he also handed over a paper, with sloppily written kanji. Ink was splattered across the margins. “And this was left underneath the fallen holy tree.”

Koshijiro frowned. “Jinchuu? Not Tenchuu?” The latter he knew was the creed of the Ishin Shishi, to deliver Heaven’s Judgment. But this was… “Judgment from a person.”

“That’s exactly what Himura-san said, when he saw it.”

And yet, neither he nor Sagara had mentioned it. A sudden thought struck Koshijiro. Did Himura have an idea of the perpetrator? He’d have to ask in private.

He did stay overnight, but to his relief, there were no more explosions. Through the glass windows, he watched the sun rise on an uneventful morning. The slight warmth caressed his face, almost reassuringly.

However, to Koshijiro’s dismay, the investigation was rapidly closed. The cannon and note were attributed to rebel samurai, discontented with the government. The Akabeko was destroyed because of a misfire, and there was no foul play involved. Koshijiro tried to push for further investigation, that it had only been three days, but he was outnumbered. He didn’t want to bring up his suspicion that Himura knew the attacker, not yet. He clenched his jaw as the case file was shut. He had to walk out, he was incredibly furious.

Leaning against the closest streetlamp, Saito removed his cigarette from his mouth and intoned. “You’re not satisfied either. So? What are you going to do?”

“Continue the investigation. I have a feeling there’s a point of connection between the cannon and the other person we’re tracking down.” An Armstrong cannon was from the West, and as a weapon, it had more in common with Shishio’s warship than anything as of yet.

“Then, we’re in agreement. Your toys are safe, by the way. No takers yet.” The balloons were in a warehouse by the docks.

“Thank you for letting me know.” They exchanged nods, and he walked on, left with his thoughts.

Jinchuu had been attributed to the rebels, and yet, there was no record of its mention in previous conflicts. Or in any previous context, for that matter. Was it a budding organization, a new banner that criminals were gathering under? Himura said he suspected the one-handed customer, but his admission had brimmed with uncertainty. Regardless, the man was still unaccounted for, as well as the cannon. Koshijiro did not like the situation.

When he arrived home, Kaoru greeted him. “Otou-san, welcome back.” Something in her tone tipped him off, and he stared at her.

“Are you alright?”

She bit her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Did Sano or Kenshin say anything to you about brothels?”

That was the last topic of discussion he expected. Abruptly, he recalled Sagara’s comment about Himura’s…potential frustration. His mood soured further. “…No. Is there a reason you’re asking?”

“Well, I heard them whispering about a map and I confronted them. Sano said they were talking about brothels to visit tonight. Kenshin was embarrassed though. I don’t know whether it’s because they really aren’t going to brothels or because I caught them.” She crossed her arms, a worried crease forming between her eyebrows. “I think Kenshin’s hiding something. Probably not to worry us, but…anyway! Yahiko begged me to teach him Hadome and Hawatari.”

“He’s ambitious.”

“More like, he’s getting ahead of himself! He’s only interested because he wants to be stronger. But strength isn’t everything, and it’s definitely not the right mindset for the succession techniques. He’s ten years old, he needs to think deeper about what swordsmanship is. I told him that, so he can reflect.”

He smiled. “Well said, Kamiya-sensei.”

She flashed an unamused look, but she didn’t protest like before. Good. She was fitting into her role as the head instructor. “So, Yahiko might be quieter than usual. Otherwise, today was fine.”

They went inside, and Tsubame was sitting at the table, sewing neat little stitches. She ducked her head. “Kamiya-san, welcome back.” She had received permission from her family to stay at the dojo, until Tae returned and found a new place to live.

“Yes, I’m home. I see you’ve found something to do.”

“I lost my practice piece, but Kaoru-san gave me one of hers.”

“Actually, my father used to sew too.” Kaoru cheekily said.

“Eh?”

“I wasn’t very good.” He deflected. “My mother taught me, but I never could match her skill. Kaoru had already surpassed my limited ability when she was your age. If you need more fabric, we have plenty.”

Eventually, they regrouped for dinner, and it was a subdued meal. Sagara skipped out afterwards, claiming a get-together with his gambling acquaintances, although Himura stayed. Koshijiro caught the relief in his daughter’s expression and realized he felt the same. Not that he really believed Himura was a philanderer, but...he wouldn’t have approved. Still, the map was never brought up. Unless, Himura was waiting to rejoin Sagara later?

Koshijiro made the excuse that he was turning in early, but he occupied himself with reading in his room. While turning the pages, he listened for anyone moving about, and the minutes passed in silence. It was an hour away from midnight, when there was a racket outside. Someone was banging against the gate. He was out of bed in an instant, and as he reached the front steps, he made out the silhouettes of Himura, Kaoru, and Yahiko.

A muffled voice drifted from beyond the wooden slats. “Please…Maekawa dojo…”

It was a blur, as they opened the gate and brought their visitor to the yard. Koshijiro vaguely recognized one of Maekawa’s students, but he was terribly beaten. Blood stained his gi and hakama, his face turning blue and purple with bruises.

“Was it another dojo challenge?!” Yahiko inquired, as Kaoru began wrapping his wounds.

“No…from the start…he came…to kill.” The young man fought for breath. “Help them…everyone’s gonna die!”

His friend’s dojo was under attack, and by the student’s condition, it was brutal. Dread filled Koshijiro. However, before he could speak, Himura was walking past the gate. Kaoru called his name and Yahiko started after him, but he looked back with an agitated expression they’d never seen before.

“No, stay here! Lock the gate and don’t let anyone inside!”

With a frown, Koshijiro argued. “I should go. Maekawa-sensei is my friend.”

But Himura had sprinted off. Kaoru seemed torn, as she helped the student drink some water. “I’ll watch the house with Tsubame and Yahiko. Otou-san, can you catch up with Kenshin?”

“I will try, and I can find some officers while I’m in town.”

After the gate was locked behind him, he ran as fast as he could. The path to the Maekawa dojo was blocked by the police, which was a hopeful sign that the attacker was under control. Koshijiro slowed to a stop, easily tracking Himura’s bright hair amidst the chaos. Sagara was at the scene too, drawn by the commotion.

“There’s Kamiya-san!” Shinichi’s voice rang out, and Koshijiro turned towards a cluster of his rookies. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

“What’s happening?”

“The Maekawa dojo was attacked by a strange man, the students who escaped didn’t recognize him. Most of them have been sent to the Oguni clinic, along with the master’s wife. But the master and his senior students are still inside with the culprit! We can’t get close enough to arrest him. He’s strong…” Shinichi gulped.

“It’s only one person? What weapons does he have?”

Fujisawa replied. “Nothing, just his fists! But we can’t open fire, not with the hostages.”

“That’s absolutely right. Who’s taken charge here?” The rookies averted their gazes, and Koshijiro was stunned. “No one? Where’s the chief?”

“That’s the thing…” Shimizu carefully said. “We sent a messenger to his house, but it’s already been half an hour. And Assistant Chief Inspector Fujita was called away earlier, to a brawl on the docks.”

“Something’s not right.” The assault on the dojo was looking less like an isolated incident.

Then, Himura spoke. In the dim light, his features were strangely gaunt. “This one will find the chief. Kamiya-dono, please recover the hostages.”

“And I’ll take care of this bastard!” Sagara jerked his head towards the dojo. “If it’s a fistfight he wants, he’ll get it.”

Koshijiro glanced back at Himura, but he was already gone. He shook his head; he had to focus on saving Maekawa and his students. “Bring me paper! I’m going to sketch the dojo’s structure. The first priority is rescue!”

As he drew, the rest of the police gathered around. He emphasized the points of entry, where they could safely carry out Maekawa, the ten students, and any fallen officers. Sagara would draw the attacker’s attention, luring him into the courtyard and buying time for the second wave of police to rush in. Guns would be permitted, to Koshijiro’s reluctance. This was the last resort, and he hoped that it didn’t progress to shooting.

“Sagara-san, good luck.”

“Don’t worry, old man. I got this.” He grinned, but it was strained. With a loud shout, he pushed past the officers trembling at the doorway.

Outside, Koshijiro pointed to the opening. “Move!” And this was the worst part: tallying and triaging. The first two victims were police, they must have been closest. But the students were worse off, barely breathing, and their features rendered unrecognizable by swelling and blood.

“Take them to the hospital, it’s closer.” Koshijiro ordered. He counted again. Ten students, eight officers. Then, the last of the rescue team carried out the final man on a stretcher. “Maekawa-sensei!”

For a moment, he feared that his friend was dead. Blood was smeared at the corners of his mouth; his clavicle had been snapped, a gleam that could only be bone. He immediately searched for a pulse. It was a faint flutter, and air was rattling in Maekawa’s throat. Part of him wanted to travel with Maekawa to the hospital, but he quelled that wish. Whoever did this had to be apprehended.

Koshijiro bowed and entered the Maekawa dojo. He took a shinai off the ruined floor, marching for the courtyard along with the second wave. They were the best marksmen among the officers tonight, and he instructed them to make their shots non-lethal, aiming for the attacker’s limbs.

Sagara was still standing, to Koshijiro’s relief. However, his right hand was in terrible condition. Had he overexerted himself again? And there was the attacker, a rough-looking man with metal gauntlets over his forearms. The right appeared uneven in comparison, a piece missing above the knuckles. Then, Sagara staggered backwards.

Cold rationality overcame Koshijiro. “Ready. Aim. Fire!” The first four shots were delivered, but as the smoke cleared, the man had his gauntlet raised, not a scratch on him.

A guttural laugh escaped him. “See? Not even bullets can pierce through my invulnerable gauntlets!”

“You sure about that? I don’t think your right one’s invulnerable anymore.” Sagara wheezed, but his mouth was turned up in a smirk.

The other man exuded killing intent, taking a step towards Sagara. Then, there was a commotion behind Koshijiro and he had told the men to stand aside just in time, before something crashed through. A bulky person, whose jaw inexplicably unhinged, and Koshijiro couldn’t fathom what he was looking at. A dark hood emerged, a white skull pattern resembling a face.

The voice was like the creaking of ancient wooden beams. “Banjin, retreat. It is now time for Jinchuu.”

That word again!

Banjin must have been the subordinate, and he protested. “Get out of here, Gein! The winner hasn’t been decided yet. I’m going to kill him!”

“I was leaving.” Then, the figure leapt out of the bulky person. Gein was thin, skeletal even, and landed silently on the dojo’s roof. “If you don’t want to be in the middle of it, you should get out while you can.”

Banjin sulked, following suit, but he taunted Sagara for good measure. “I’ll stop playing for today! You better thank me for sparing your life!”

“What the hell are you talking about? This was a draw.” Despite his injuries, Sagara was laidback. “How disappointing, you didn’t get the precious victory you wanted.”

Banjin fumed. “Just you wait, I’ll kill you if I see you again!”

At this point, they had finished reloading, and Koshijiro ordered another volley. But Gein and Banjin slipped away, before they could fire again. Koshijiro clenched his jaw in frustration. At least, there was…whatever they’d left behind. Not a person, but too realistic to be a costume. The mouth was still open, the teeth grotesque. As Koshijiro drew closer, he heard a faint hissing sound. Then, he noticed the smoke. He locked eyes with Sagara, in sudden realization.

“Everyone, get back!” Sagara yelled.

“Move!” Koshijiro urged and the officers scrambled away. “Sagara-san! What are you doing?!”

He viciously kicked the stomach, and as the body recoiled, a round sphere launched into the air. The same skull pattern was on it, the fuse already short. “Get down!”

They pressed themselves to the grass, and Koshijiro saw the Maekawa dojo’s roof light up. The bomb detonated, the noise reverberating in every muscle. Wood splinters and ceramic tile rained down. When the debris settled, Koshijiro called for a check-in. “Sound off!” Thankfully, everyone was alright. But the dojo’s roof was wiped out, the upper floor a certain mess. What was he going to tell Maekawa?

Sagara grimaced. “First, the Akabeko, and now this. They won’t stop unless they blow up everything!”

The Akabeko. The Maekawa dojo. Chief Uramura’s house. Places related to Koshijiro and Kaoru…to Himura. Judgment from a person. Jinchuu was not a grievance against the government.

“Jinchuu is a personal grudge, isn’t it?”

Sagara must have decided that it was no use keeping the secret, because he nodded. “The map was for marking places related to Kenshin. When he saw the word ‘Jinchuu’, he already understood someone wanted revenge against him. The one-handed veteran for sure. Those people, Inui Banjin and Gein, must be his partners in crime.”

“Were you able to discern why your opponent came to the dojo?”

“His master challenged Kenshin in the past and lost. But it’s not like he’s seeking his master’s honor; he just didn’t want to be seen as a loser because his master was defeated.” Sagara frowned. “Someone like that doesn’t deserve to fight Kenshin.”

“Someone like that should have been arrested. We can’t let them escape again.” He looked at Sagara’s bloody hand. His fingers hadn’t moved yet, which was concerning. “You should go to the hospital too.”

“I’m fine.”

“At the very least, you should see Takani-san.”

“She’s probably gonna murder me herself.” He muttered. “And did we just see a guy…come out of another guy?”

“I believe so, unless my old eyes deceive me.” Koshijiro wearily said. “But I suspect that the larger one wasn’t alive to begin with. A puppet of sorts, on a larger scale.”

“Crazy shit, huh? Oh, hey. It’s still here.” Sagara kicked the head with an irritated growl. Koshijiro winced, but nothing happened. “We gotta do something, old man, or we’re stuck in a corner!”

“We need answers from Himura-san. I understand he feels shame and guilt, but I think that if our safety is threatened, he’ll act righteously.”

And then, he heard it. The sound of an Armstrong cannon. Distant, but it must have hit within the city. The chief’s house! Koshijiro mustered the remaining energy he had, to make his way there. Sagara tagged along, declaring that his injuries could wait for a few more minutes. They arrived to a grim scene; the fire brigade was extinguishing the burning remains of the chief’s house. The recovering messenger informed them that the unconscious chief had been sent to Dr. Gensai’s clinic for his injuries. His wife and daughter had gone to the station.

“And no sign of Kenshin either.” Sagara grumbled. “I guess I’ll start looking at the clinic.”

“Please, get treatment too.”

He sighed at the insistence. “I guess, if there’s no one else in worse shape. I’ll swing by the dojo in the morning.”

However, Koshijiro stopped at his workplace, intending to speak to Chief Uramura’s family. One of the rookies, Kobayashi, provided the update. “The assistant chief’s returned, and he’s questioning them now. The chief’s wife seems like she’s coping well, but his daughter was practically hysterical when they came in. From what I could tell, they don’t know why they were attacked.”

Koshijiro refrained from saying anything more, until Saito exited the interrogation room. He was uncharacteristically harried, most likely because of the interview, and dug in his pocket for cigarettes. He scarcely acknowledged Koshijiro, intoning. “In my office, Kamiya.”

Dutifully, he followed, and Saito slammed the door shut. Koshijiro sat in the available spare chair, which felt brand new. “This night has been an ordeal. Is your family safe?”

“Tokio is capable of protecting the boys. They were fine, after I left the docks. You should know there wasn’t a brawl. The balloons were stolen back.” Saito held up a hand. “But I anticipated that and Sawagejo’s on the streets, confirming the new location. One of the warehouses. We’ll raid it once we have accurate details. Currently, we need to focus on the Maekawa dojo and the chief’s house.”

Koshijiro provided the timeline of events and what he’d witnessed. “Inui Banjin and Gein were the names of the dojo’s attackers.”

“And according to the chief’s wife and daughter, they were ambushed by Otowa Hyoko.” Three had been identified, how many more were there? “What else?”

“I don’t know if it was the same Armstrong cannon, but there was another blast-”

“No, it was the same. But you’re not telling the whole truth. What’s the motivation? The sukiyaki restaurant, the kenjutsu dojo, the chief’s house.” Saito lifted a finger for each location. “All of these are connected to you and yours.”

Koshijiro stared at him, refusing to flinch. “I don’t know of anyone who would attack these places, because of me or my daughter.”

“Then, it’s because of Battousai?” Saito had cut to the core of the matter, and Koshijiro was unable to deny it. “It doesn’t matter. Evil is evil, and needs to be slain immediately. We have work to accomplish, especially since many of our men are out of commission.” His responsibilities must have increased drastically, since Chief Uramura was incapacitated.

Koshijiro was dismissed, and the noise of the station filled his ears. He offered his condolences to the chief’s wife, who thanked him. The daughter was sullen, she only was about twelve or thirteen, and grudgingly bowed when her mother chastised her attitude. Then, he was caught up in the investigations’ paperwork and he didn’t leave until the early hours of the morning. The sky was just beginning to brighten, heralding the sun.

As he walked towards home, he squinted. Was that…Yahiko? Standing at the gate? “Yahiko, were you unable to sleep?”

Yahiko stubbornly shook his head, and in the growing light, dark circles appeared under his eyes. And his shinai was strapped to his back. “I’m keeping watch.”

“…Were you out here all night?”

Before he could reply, there was a shout from the house. Kaoru sprinted out, with Tsubame in her wake. They had come to the same conclusion, Kaoru declaring. “Yahiko, I can’t believe you! You never went to bed?!”

“This is the only thing I can do! I can’t keep up with Kenshin or Sano, I can’t fight alongside them!” His voice was choked with tears, and although he was trying to hold on to his dignity, his words were uneven. “S-so, I have to protect the dojo while they’re gone. I can’t do nothing! There’s s-something, something bad going on. I can’t be weak. I…I gotta try all I can!”

Kaoru seemed struck by his words, and she pensively stared at him.

Koshijiro clasped his shoulder. “You did well, Yahiko. But it’s morning, and the danger’s passed for now. Let’s go inside, have breakfast, and I’ll share what happened. We can continue waiting for Sagara-san and Himura-san, while we eat.”

At his words, Kaoru recovered and she guided Yahiko by the elbow. “Otou-san’s right. And you can only be strong on a full stomach. Thanks for looking out for us.”

“I’ll start cooking.” Tsubame offered. “I’m not as good as Tae-san but I’ll do my best too. Yahiko-kun…thank you.”

He sniffled, burying his face in his sleeves. The tips of his ears were red, and he averted everyone’s gazes until they were together at the table.

Breakfast was a light meal, but it was already mid-morning when Sagara knocked on the gate. Takani was with him, disdainfully eyeing at what he’d brought. The costume had been dragged from the Maekawa dojo, and without a person inside, it was a leathery bulbous sack. He hauled the costume into a corner of the backyard.

“Did you have to bring it?” Takani complained, as she set down her medicine box.

“I wanted to show Kaoru and Yahiko. This is Iwanbo, isn’t it? Look, I’ll try getting inside to see if they can remember.”

“That’s disgusting.”

In the end, Sagara didn’t follow through, and he didn’t have to. Yahiko blinked in confusion at the costume, but Kaoru gasped when she saw the distorted face. “Ah, that’s the guy whose head turned completely around! Misao and I thought that was weird. It makes much more sense, that it wasn’t a real person at all. I wonder if the rest of the Ten Swords knew.”

“I can ask Sawagejo.” Koshijiro said. Then, the pieces fell together. “The warship’s backer and the culprit responsible for these attacks are one and the same. Having this Iwanbo in the Ten Swords would ensure that Shishio was utilizing their investment appropriately.” And the theft of the hot air balloons was partly a diversion, to draw the assistant chief away. The timing had not been a coincidence.

“So, even before the fight in Kyoto, they were already laying the groundwork for their own scheme.” Sagara scowled.

“And what could that be?” Takani interjected. “If there’s something you know, spit it out!” She smacked his uninjured arm.

“Hey, you know I can’t use my right hand!”

“And you’re lucky I was able to salvage what you have left!”

Koshijiro sensed his daughter’s gaze. She wasn’t angry, only inquisitive. “Otou-san, do you know?”

“Not all of it, not yet.”

Takani finally relented, and Sagara cut a glance to Koshijiro. “When Kenshin’s home, we’ll talk. It wouldn’t be right otherwise. I never did find him last night-”

“Kaoru-san!” Tsubame opened the sliding door, stumbling in her haste. “It’s Kenshin-san, he’s back! He’s not hurt, but…” She struggled for words, her face distraught.

They rushed to the front. A heavy countenance surrounded Himura, even just by his gait. His shoulders were lowered, as if he was bearing an immense weight, and every step seemed an excruciating ordeal. As he approached them, his shoes scuffed the path but he didn’t react. Underneath his bangs, his eyes were shadowed with gloom.

“Kenshin, welcome home.” Kaoru softly said. “You must be tired. Are you going to sleep a little?”

“…Yes.” His voice was barely audible. He didn’t look at anyone, staggering on and into the house in utter silence.

“He’s totally out of it.” Sagara watched in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yahiko’s voice was hoarse, and his forehead creased in concern.

Tsubame desperately turned to Kaoru. “Will you ask, Kaoru-san?”

“I shouldn’t. I can’t force him to talk. This is the first time I’ve seen Kenshin suffering so much.” Heartache was in his daughter’s eyes, the downturn of her mouth. “He probably hasn’t had anything to drink. I’ll leave some tea outside his room.” Then, she quickly left.

The day slid by, as slowly as honey from the bottom of a jar. Koshijiro spent the remainder of the morning at work, waiting for Saito to have a spare moment. It was close to noon when the bureaucracy retreated, and he updated the assistant chief on the connection to Shishio. Saito didn’t seem surprised; perhaps, he had an inkling already.

Sawagejo barged into the office halfway through, and upon the revelation, he hissed. “I knew it! I knew Iwanbo was weird, we never saw him eat or sleep or anything. Wait…whoever was inside was spying on us?”

“Listening on conversations, discerning the strengths and weaknesses of the Ten Swords.” Saito sounded bored.

“Hey, Shishio wasn’t naïve. He had Hoji dig dirt on everyone in our group. Iwanbo was supposed to be from Yokohama. Nothing about China or Shanghai.”

“But the best cover stories are rooted in truth.” Koshijiro said. “And Yokohama was the intended destination for the hot air balloons.”

“Damn, it’s all coming together. Guess I have to make a stop there.”

“Be efficient.” Saito added, adjusting his gloves. “We’re short on time already.” There was a knock, and he swore. He shooed them out, citing an upcoming meeting with Commissioner Kawaji. He clearly hated the workplace politics, and Koshijiro felt sorry for him.

In the afternoon, the heat was stifling, and Koshijiro returned home with trepidation. “I’m back.”

At first, there was no response, and his stomach twisted. Then, Kaoru called from the kitchen. “Otou-san, welcome home.”

He exhaled and headed towards her. “How is everyone?”

She was standing with a cup of water, spending her break away from the dojo. “Taking it easy. Kenshin’s still sleeping and I don’t want to bother him.” Her smile was strained. “So much has happened in the past few days…”

“Is it too overwhelming, Kaoru?”

“I’m okay, Otou-san. Everybody’s safe and together, that’s the least I can ask for now. It feels like forever ago, that we were demonstrating Hadome and Hizadome in Kyoto.” Then, she squared her shoulders. “I’m considering teaching Yahiko the succession techniques. Is that alright? He hasn’t even been a student for a full year, and it took me almost three years before I could use the techniques in battle. But Jinchuu…”

“It’s unusual, but we’re in unusual circumstances. Above all, you are his teacher and the best judge of his ability.” He replied.

Kaoru pressed her lips together, before nodding. “Right. I think Yahiko’s ready. No, I know he is. He may be young, but he already understands that strength is about protecting people. That’s what Kamiya Kasshin is.”

“Exactly. May I observe the lesson?”

“Of course!”

Yahiko perked up immediately when Kaoru announced she’d teach him. “Really?!” He jumped into the air, the liveliest he’d been all day. He was incredibly eager to catch a shinai with the backs of his hands. “Come on, strike at me!”

“Nope, not yet.” Kaoru shook her head. “You saw already from our demo, but understanding the hilt is the basis of the succession techniques. You have to solidify your knowledge of the hilt first.”

Koshijiro set a floor cushion by the door and watched their drills. Kaoru was defending, while Yahiko performed offensive strikes…only using the hilt.

“Why?!” Yahiko found the challenge difficult. He was certainly clumsier, but Koshijiro could tell that he was doing quite well.

“Otou-san made me do this too, when I was younger. You’ll get it once you learn the techniques.” In the past, Kaoru had bemoaned this exercise, but after many sessions, she grasped the true message. It was about the dimensions and limitations of the hilt. One’s grip could easily be lost during the blade catch; by practicing with extensive focus on the hilt, maintaining a hold on the shinai would become second nature.

Tsubame slipped into the dojo, and Koshijiro grabbed another cushion for her. She whispered her thanks. “Yahiko-kun is much better.”

Indeed, the goal had revitalized his spirit. Sweat poured down his forehead and temples, but his gaze was burning with newfound determination. Every repetition was different than the previous. He was an excellent student, adjusting his approach each time. His concentration remained on Kaoru’s next move, even as Sagara barged in, wanting to see. Takani joined them as well, seizing the opportunity to apply fresh bandages to his right hand. The only one missing was Himura.

Perhaps, I should check on him. Koshijiro thought. Then, as if his mind was read, the door slid open.

“Oh, Kenshin-san.” Tsubame looked up at him with round eyes, and Koshijiro inclined his head.

Himura looked a little better, the sleep had helped. But he still seemed worn out, and his gaze landed on Kaoru. She had just disarmed Yahiko again.

“No, you’re still using the blade! Honestly, I’m tempted to give you an old broken hilt.” She noticed Himura and stopped. For a moment, they stared at each other. She turned away first, addressing Tsubame. “Tsubame, can we switch off? Take my shinai and block Yahiko. One hundred more hits, Yahiko. With the hilt.”

“Aw, what?!” Yahiko whined. Tsubame audibly gulped, as the shinai was passed to her. To Koshijiro’s knowledge, she’d never touched the dojo equipment before, and that fact was quickly reinforced. The drill continued, with the additional sounds of Yahiko’s war cries and Tsubame’s little squeaks at the collision of bamboo against bamboo.

Himura asked. “Kaoru-dono, what is this?”

She didn’t sit, leaning against the wall instead. Koshijiro handed her a cloth to wipe her face, and she briskly dried off. “Yahiko’s preparing to learn the succession technique. It’ll take a long time, but he’s ready to take the first step. He knows something’s going on, and he wants to help, however he can. To improve, for himself and everyone here.” She was proud of his progress, and she draped the cloth around her neck.

“…Yes. Yahiko is advancing and he may make mistakes, but not the same ones this one has. Even Yahiko has a sense of the truth…” He trailed off. The heavy atmosphere was collecting around him, his bangs concealing his eyes.

Koshijiro stood, but he didn’t know what to say, for Himura to reveal his thoughts. He was painfully aware of his inadequacy at talking about emotions. But…his daughter was an expert at dispelling such melancholy feelings.

Gently, Kaoru reached out to Himura. Not touching his face but garnering his attention, her fingers hovering under his chin. Instinctively, he lifted his gaze to her, almost startled by the motion. Her voice was soft, coaxing. “Before that, are you sure you’re not hurt? You can always talk later. At least, let Megumi examine you soon. Please?” And her smile was pure, only compassion for his well-being.

The tension fled Himura, and he murmured. “Thank you, Kaoru-dono.” In the next instant, his own hand encircled her forearm. He wasn’t hurting her, but he didn’t speak. He also wasn’t letting go.

The dojo fell silent, as everyone’s eyes turned to them. Kaoru’s cheeks steadily grew pink. The spot between Koshijiro’s eyebrows began to ache, with how much suspicion he was directing towards Himura.

“Um, Kenshin?” Kaoru stammered.

“Sanosuke’s wounds. Yahiko’s sweat. And your warmth, Kaoru-dono. These are not illusions.” He looked at each of them in turn, gravely serious. “There’s something all of you must hear, about the current battle…and its beginnings. After dinner, this one will tell you.”

And at last, here was the truth. When night fell, the clouds had cleared to unveil the array of stars. They sat in a circle outside, their undivided attention on Himura. He had his thoughts together, and he spoke slowly and deliberately.

“This morning, while this one was walking back, the mastermind behind Jinchuu revealed himself. Yukishiro Enishi, this one’s brother. Or rather, brother-in-law. He is the younger brother of Himura Tomoe, who was this one’s wife.” At this, Koshijiro glanced at Kaoru, her expression stunned even before Himura confessed. “And this one killed her.”

It was very late when Himura finally ended the tale of his past, and they only had the energy to shuffle to bed.

Himura’s past had been tragic, and it was no wonder he carried the burden. The cross-shaped scar on his cheek was the result of two deaths by his hand. He truly had killed his first wife with a katana, albeit unintentionally. Koshijiro wondered how he was faring, but it was best to leave him alone for the night. However, Himura had felt comfortable enough to share. He had trusted all of them, and the invisible distance that had caused him to drift away was gone.

Koshijro laid in his futon, trying to get comfortable. As exhausted as he was, he couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed aside his blanket.

Yukishiro had told Himura that in ten days, Jinchuu would take place at the Kamiya dojo. He had five allies, most of whom they’d already met, but the extent of their abilities was hardly demonstrated. They had months to plot their revenge. Ten days was a paltry deadline, a taunt even. Koshijiro began to pace, and his room was small. He strode through the hallway, navigating through the darkness.

Voices drifted near the front door and he peered out. “Sagara-san? Yahiko? Were you unable to sleep?”

“I’m standing guard.” Sagara explained. He was cross-legged on the steps, his bandaged right hand resting at his side. “Even if Jinchuu’s happening in ten days, they just might attack us before then.”

“And I’m practicing Hadome!” Yahiko had his wrists crossed above his head. His persistence paid off and he had improved greatly with wielding the hilt. Kaoru provided the condition that if he pretended to catch a blade ten thousand times, she would strike at him. “How’s my form, Kamiya-san?”

Koshijiro observed his repetitions. “You have the basics, but you’re not grounded enough.” To demonstrate, he approached and lightly tapped the outside of Yahiko’s knee with his foot. Yahiko struggled for balance, and Koshijiro shoved against him, using the open palm of his hand. He emphasized. “You need to withstand the weight of your opponent’s blow. Let the energy pass through your body, and feel the earth underneath absorb it instead. Otherwise, your form will collapse.”

Sagara laughed. “You’re bullying him, old man!”

“Shut up, Sano!” Yahiko fumed. And he pushed back against Koshijiro, finding his stance and locking in. His knees were bent at the right angle, and he straightened his posture with confidence. “How’s this?”

“Much better. Do you agree?”

“Yeah, thanks!” He glanced at Koshijiro’s left shoulder. “So with Hizadome, you have to be even more grounded?”

“Yes, because I only have one arm to fight back against an opponent’s two. I have yet to encounter an opponent who could overpower me. I may have to change the technique.”

“Huh? Just like that?”

“It isn’t usually done, but I’ve always viewed Kamiya Kasshin as a work in progress. The majority of what I’ve developed has only been tested in the dojo. If reality is different, then the techniques must change to reflect what is possible.”

“Well, I get Hawatari’s a disarming move, but what about breaking your opponent’s sword? Is that possible?” He was earnestly serious.

“I don’t know. It would have to be attempted first, but it’s an interesting idea.”

“Yeah.” His thoughtfulness lingered, before he vigorously resumed crossing his wrists.

“Both of you should try to rest.” Koshijiro said. “Strength is recovered through sleep.”

“I took naps during the day, but I’ll put Yahiko to bed in an hour.” Sagara assured.

Yahiko paused in a crouching position. “No way, I’m taking second watch.”

“Not if I knock you out.”

“Hey!”

Koshijiro walked on, following the moonlight to the backyard, and he was surprised to find his daughter on the porch. She blinked at him. “Otou-san? You’re still awake?”

He slowed to a stop and sat beside her. “I needed the exercise. What about you?” He carefully asked. During Himura’s retelling, she was quiet. She only spoke once, to tell him to keep going. She had borne the entirety of the tale without giving away any of her own emotions.

“I just wanted some fresh air.” She paused. “Megumi and I were talking. She mentioned that she would have done the same in Tomoe-san’s place. I wouldn’t have, I would live. I know Kenshin would only blame himself more if I died. But Megumi said I was thinking of what I would have done instead…”

Koshijiro tilted his face, letting the cool night air wash over his skin. “To me, it is a futile exercise of thought. You are yourself, and you can only act as yourself. As someone who has sworn to protect life with the sword, as the master of Kamiya Kasshin. As the brave, kind young woman you’ve become, who has opened the dojo to everyone here. And from what I’ve seen over the past months, I’m confident Himura-san would agree with you. He would not smile at all, if you sacrificed yourself.”

“Otou-san,” She hugged him, her hair smelling of the jasmine soap she used. “You’re being very nice. Thank you.”

Embarrassed, he patted her head. “I would question what I’ve taught you all these years, if you answered otherwise.” The words came out harsher than he meant to.

“Are you upset?”

“A little.” He admitted. “I do not like the implication of you dying before me. Children bury their parents, not the other way around.”

Kaoru sadly smiled. “Before Okaa-san was in the hospital, she told me to cherish my life. She really loved us, she wanted nothing more than to live with us.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Even now, the memory of Kyoko’s anguish caused his heart to ache. “Kaoru, I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

“Last year, in Satsuma, right before the explosion that took my arm, all I could think of was you. That I wouldn’t be coming home, like I said I would.”

“Otou-san…” She looked helplessly at him.

“When I woke up, I was incredibly grateful to be alive. I remember that feeling, whenever there’s a phantom pain or if I reach for something to my left. I see everyone in the house and the dojo, and I think how fortunate it is, that I’m here to experience every day. I never would have, if I died in Satsuma. As a boy, I grew up with the notion that death was honorable, but it isn’t. Living is far worthier, with the people you care for. Your choice is correct. Do not doubt that, ever.”

“I won’t.” And she seemed surer, her eyes bright with inner courage. Then, the corner of her mouth lifted. “I think Okaa-san would fuss over you, if she could see you now. She’d make sure you never have to reach to your left at all.”

“I had a dream of her in the hospital. We were sitting in this very spot, and she told me to go home, please.”

Kaoru grinned. “That sounds like Okaa-san. I haven’t dreamed about her recently, but I know she’s here.” She pressed her hand to her heart. A breeze rustled her hair, and she tucked a lock behind her ear. “Oh, I wonder if she would have fussed over this.”

“She certainly would. Is it still there?”

“Barely. No, you don’t have to look, you always get so guilty about it.” She grumbled. “It’s fine! It’s not a big deal, literally.”

Still, he felt remorseful. “Alright. But remember what I said.”

“Don’t worry, Otou-san. If Megumi brings it up again, my response will be better. I won’t throw away the life that you and Okaa-san gave me.” She gave him a parting kiss on the cheek, before rising to her feet. “Go to bed soon, okay? Good night.”

“Good night, Kaoru.” He lingered on the porch for a few more minutes, occupied with thinking over what to do.

Ten days.

Chapter Text

It was no surprise that they’d all slept in. By the time everyone was awake, it was noon. Koshijiro grilled the fish for their meal, and fortunately, none of the pieces burned.

Kaoru took the platter, offering a smile. “Thank you, Otou-san. And wow, it all looks good.”

He followed her to the dojo, where the larger space was more suitable for eating together. “How are the others?”

“Yahiko’s finishing up his last round of drills, so Tsubame’s waiting for him. Megumi and I just woke up Sano. And Kenshin should be washing his face.”

“Did he seem alright?”

Her expression was somber. “Quiet. He didn’t want to eat at first, he said he hasn’t been hungry since last night. But Megumi told him to have a little and I agreed. I’ll check on him soon.”

However, Himura was on time, settling into their circle. He was definitely subdued, his hands disappearing into his sleeves. His portions were smaller than usual, but it wasn’t mentioned.

Yahiko was the last to arrive, sweat pouring down his face, and he ate with a manic energy. He demanded seconds, thirds, even a fourth helping. It seemed that as soon as his bowl was refilled, it was empty again. “More, more!”

Koshijiro was concerned he would choke, but Kaoru stopped him. “Would you slow down? I’m not giving you any more unless you chew every bite ten times.”

Even Tsubame was staring with a mix of awe and alarm. Her chopsticks were suspended in midair, as she noted. “He’s really eating a lot.”

Takani dabbed at her lips with a cloth napkin. “The source of health is one’s diet, and since he’s been exercising, it’s expected that his appetite’s increased.”

The only person who could match him was Sagara, and he was also affected by the current atmosphere. He was primarily focused on his own lunch, though he had to use a spoon with his left hand. When Takani reminded him about his examination, he merely shrugged. “Sure.” He seemed serious, probably thinking about the time they had left and the certain battle ahead.

Koshijiro glanced at his daughter, who was retrieving another serving for Yahiko. She sighed. “Geez, at this rate, we won’t have leftovers.”

“Kaoru-dono.” Himura held up his bowl, with a slight smile. He looked more like himself. “Some more for this one too, please.”

Kaoru beamed. “Of course!”

Koshijiro was sitting between them, but he didn’t have time to set down his chopsticks before they both reached in front of him. He swallowed, and the bowl was already passed to Kaoru. Well…he’d let it slide. There were more important things to worry about.

Afterwards, the dishes were scraped clean and stacked neatly. Sagara pounded his chest, belching. “Phew, that was good. The situation’s depressing, but I feel better now.”

Yahiko had overeaten and laid on the tatami in a spread-eagled fashion, his stomach bulging slightly. Koshijiro watched him closely, to ensure that he wasn’t going to be sick. “We can talk about Jinchuu, and what we need to accomplish.”

Tsubame murmured. “I hope nothing bad happens. Is fighting the only option? We can’t talk it out?”

Takani answered her. “I understand how you feel, but it’s not possible. Yukishiro Enishi made it clear that he won’t negotiate, and the only person who he could listen to is Tomoe-san. Her words might stop him, but the dead don’t speak.”

“Tomoe-san’s words…” Kaoru reiterated, and then, her eyes lit in sudden inspiration. “Kenshin! Where is Tomoe-san’s diary?!”

“The diary was left at the temple where her grave is, in Kyoto.”

“Kyoto. But-” She stopped, and Koshijiro gently encouraged her.

“What were you thinking of?”

“Her diary is the only proof, right? If Yukishiro Enishi reads it and gets that she didn’t hold a grudge against Kenshin, then maybe…it could stop him. But none of us can leave now.” She was thinking aloud. “So, what if I can write a letter to Misao and ask her to find it?”

“It’s a sound idea.” Koshijiro nodded. “Send her a telegram, it would be faster.”

“And tell her to bring Aoshi too. He’d be a strong ally.” Sagara added.

“This would work, if they arrive in ten days.” Himura was cautious as ever. “This one will help you write the telegram, to provide directions to the temple.”

“Oh, thank you.” Kaoru’s smile was warm, and she stood, brushing herself off. “Let’s go, there’s no time to waste!”

Koshijiro went along too, and together, the three of them kept a brisk pace through the city. It was sunny and temperate, but Koshijiro couldn’t find any pleasure in it. Already, they’d lost half of today. They had the advantage of home terrain, but they were severely lacking in information. He asked. “What does Yukishiro Enishi look like? Could you describe him, Himura-san?”

“Taller than this one, but that isn’t unusual. He’s about twenty-four years old, though he looks older, and he wears spectacles at the end of his nose. However, his hair is pure white. That is the most distinctive feature he has, and most likely, he’ll stay out of sight.”

“Yes, but anything is helpful. Perhaps, the assistant chief inspector could ask for specific reports from Shanghai as well. It would be good to know about his past deeds. He already did his research in targeting our friends. The fights were draws, but unless we gain meaningful information about any of these individuals, we are still on the defensive in this war.”

“And in this war, you’re definitely our tactician.” Kaoru wryly remarked. “But you’re right, Otou-san. We have to do all we can in these ten days, to protect our king. That’s you, Kenshin. Should we clear the dojo for you?”

“No. This one does not need the dojo to train.” From his phrasing, it seemed like he already an idea of how to prepare for the battle. “And the dojo is for teaching. How many repetitions must Yahiko perform, before you will teach Hadome?”

“Seven thousand more! I increased the limit. He might hate me for it, but he has to compress years of work in these few days. If something goes wrong…he can rely on practice. His body will remember how to act if he’s ever in danger.” By now, they had reached the telegram office.

“That is certainly true. Please continue to look after him, Kaoru-dono.” He quietly said and opened the door for her.

“Of course. He’s the only student I’ve got.” Her gaze softened. “And Kenshin, you’re…um, never mind!” She hurried into the building, suddenly embarrassed. Himura stared after her, before jolting and motioning for Koshijiro to go ahead.

Walking past, Koshijiro stole a quick glance at his expression. If he had to name it, Himura actually seemed…disappointed? Interesting.

The telegram was longer than expected, given the amount of detail. When it was finished, it was very likely that Makimachi and Shinomori would receive the message tomorrow. But they worked fast, Kaoru insisted. “The Oniwabanshuu tread lightly, so I believe they’ll be here soon. Misao will probably leap over the gate one morning.”

And so, the telegram was sent to Kyoto. Hopefully, their side wouldn’t run into any issues.

On his next workday, Koshijiro brought Himura with him to the station. “It would only be fair to inform Saito, considering that Yukishiro is the culprit we’ve been searching for. You don’t have to tell him everything, and if he presses, I’ll support you in whatever you decide.”

“Thank you, Kamiya-dono.” Genuine relief was in his eyes.

Fortunately, Saito didn’t ask the reason for Yukishiro’s vendetta, and he probably didn’t care. He didn’t speak throughout Himura’s brief summary, his expression impassive. At the end, he only stated. “I’ll relay Yukishiro’s name to the law enforcement in Shanghai. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has a record. Now, you have to train. Kamiya and I will take care of everything else.”

Himura was surprised. “That is very kind of you.”

“This isn’t kindness.” Saito’s lip curled. “It’s pragmatism. What is this, day three of ten? The deadline isn’t a concession by Yukishiro; his group is plotting something. Otherwise, they would have attacked you sooner. No, they’re buying time for themselves as well. The investigation is still ongoing, and that’s our work. Don’t concern yourself with police business, so get out.” He brusquely dismissed Himura, who inclined his head.

“This one expects to hear an update. Kamiya-dono, see you at home.”

“When do you think you’ll be back?”

“Before sunset. This one promises.”

Koshijiro nodded, and after Himura left, he turned once more to Saito. “I understand you wanted him to prepare for the fight, but that isn’t an excuse for rudeness.”

“And you’ve forgotten that I have my own score to settle with Battousai. Regardless of the common enemy we share, we are not friends.” He changed the subject, grabbing a stack of papers. “Speaking of which, there is some news. We’ve analyzed the costume. It was made from human skin, and while the assumption is that the sources were already dead, there is no guarantee.”

It was a good thing that Sagara didn’t climb into it. “At least, that kind of work is rare. Should we look into grave diggers?”

“The costume’s parts were cured like leather, and mostly repurposed. None of it was recent.”

“But this was left behind in the first place, and Gein didn’t particularly care if it was caught in the explosion. Another must exist.” Multiples, perhaps, but that was an ugly thought.

“If you want to search every cemetery, be my guest. Sawagejo’s traveling back from Yokohama today, and I’ll hear his report before moving out.”

He could have mentioned that earlier, but Koshijiro suppressed his irritation. “Do you know when he’ll be here?”

And at that moment, there was a knock on the door, before Sawagejo barged in anyway. His timing couldn’t have been better. After exchanging perfunctory greetings, he collapsed into a chair. “Well, I have good news and bad news. I followed the trail in Yokohama to a mansion that was just rented out. The bad news is that it’s heavily guarded, I couldn’t find a way in without alerting the people inside. But the good news is that I did find a link to a Shanghai crime syndicate. I interrogated a weakling who was delivering a message, and he said that the boss goes by Baihu, or Byakko in Japanese. ‘The White Tiger’ was originally from Japan, but he eventually worked his way up the ranks, selling weapons on the black market. Apparently, he’s over here for ‘personal business’. So, he’s probably behind everything.”

“What was the message?” Saito inquired.

“It’s the route of a supply ship. On the train, I was trying to figure out if there’s anything hidden, but I give up.” He reached into his shirt and tossed over an envelope.

Saito laid gloved fingers upon it, pulling it towards him. “And the weakling?”

“Turned over to the Yokohama police. So, what now?”

“Continue your surveillance on the balloons.”

“More legwork, huh?” He grumbled.

“Not for much longer. We’re going to raid the warehouse. My original plan was three nights from now, but I’ll push it another two, given the new information. Less time for the other side to recover.” His foreboding smile was all teeth. The wolf, baring his fangs. “Kamiya, you’ll join us. If your rookies are willing, let them join; it’ll be a learning experience for them. And of course, anyone from the dojo who’s available to fight. Once the details are finalized, you’ll be informed.”

Koshijiro nodded. “Thank you. If I hear about grave diggers, I’ll let you know.”

“Stubborn as ever.” But Saito said this without malice, as he opened the envelope. The message relayed the stops for a supply ship, a week’s round trip in total from the listed times. Nothing more was gleaned from it, and Sawagejo scratched his head.

“See? Not much to it. Maybe it’s how they got into Japan? Or their escape route?”

“It’s also possible that the locations are points for smuggling weapons. However, it doesn’t seem urgent enough to send a messenger.” Koshijiro was doubtful.

Saito folded the paper, filing it away. “In any case, I have no issue with blocking the route. The raid is our priority, so prepare.”

As Koshijiro left, the clock chimed the hour. Time was relentlessly marching on.

On the fifth day, Kaoru declared that Yahiko was ready. Koshijiro had just returned from work, and he was relieved. Despite the current circumstances, he wanted to see this moment.

Yahiko was ecstatic. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this! Come on, I can catch your shinai.”

Kaoru shook her head. “Not yet. You watched Otou-san and me but it’s different when you’re actually on the receiving end. I’ll show you first. Perform an offensive strike against me.”

His nostrils flared as he stomped towards her. He was clearly itching to put his hours of practice to use. But his gaze was focused when he delivered the blow. Quick, enough power behind it, and his form was excellent.

Still, Kaoru caught his shinai between the backs of her hands. “Hadome!” Her voice was strong; she was confident and that pleased Koshijiro. “And Hawatari!” She disarmed Yahiko, and he was knocked to the floor.

Instinctively, he rolled, recovering to a crouch. He blinked, looking somewhat stunned. “That was…faster than I thought.”

“That’s why it’s the succession technique.” Kaoru explained. “You can’t hesitate at all. Using Hadome in the first place means you’re putting your life on the line. If you make a mistake, you’ll be struck down if your opponent is using a real blade. But if you’re perfect…”

“Then, you’ll win.” Yahiko finished the sentence, and he rose to his feet, shoulders set in determination.

“Yes, so you can try now.” She tossed his shinai to him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright! Now!”

Kaoru dashed, opting for a one-handed strike. And Yahiko succeeded in crossing his wrists. However, he was a second too late, unable to protect his stomach. He had the wind knocked out of him by Kaoru’s shinai, and he crumpled.

“Not bad.” She helped him to a sitting position, reassuringly patting his back. “You couldn’t stop me but your hands were in the right place!”

“For a first attempt, you did well.” Koshijiro added. “Your stance was correct, and although you took the hit, timing will be refined with practice.”

Yahiko wiped his mouth with his sleeve and groaned. “Got it.”

“And you shouldn’t use Hadome in a fight, not until you master it in the dojo.” Kaoru firmly said. “Until you know you can do it perfectly.”

Their lesson continued into the evening. Eventually, Yahiko couldn’t make any further meaningful progress, and Kaoru had to drag him out of the dojo. At this point, Himura also returned, locking the gate behind him. Koshijiro was unaware of where he went.

When he asked, Himura replied. “This one went to a quiet area. It’s a bamboo grove where this one can freely use ki.”

“Ah. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you do that before.”

“No, it has been a long time since this one has. Not since this one was with Shishou.” He paused. “This one considered contacting him, but he is harder to reach than the others in Kyoto.”

“That’s true, but I think he would want to help, if he knew. Or at least, be here for you.”

“Shishou would deny that reasoning, of course.” Himura wryly said. “Still, he means well, and although he is not here, this one remembers his lessons. Perhaps, this one sought out the bamboo because we used to train in places like that.”

Koshijiro wondered how he was feeling about the upcoming fight, but it was already late. “You worked hard today. Don’t worry about dinner, Sekihara-san has taken over.”

She had returned in the afternoon, windswept from her journey. She’d spoken to her parents and her sister, and while it would take time, she was determined to rebuild the Akabeko. Embracing Tsubame and Kaoru, she fiercely declared. “I haven’t given up before, and I certainly won’t now. The Akabeko will open again!” Their new lodgings in town were being finalized, but soon, she and Tsubame would move out.

During dinner, Sagara jumped at the opportunity to tease Yahiko over this revelation. “Bet you’re gonna miss having Tsubame around, huh?”

However, Yahiko didn’t rise to the bait. He finished chewing and glanced at Tsubame. “Is it safe?”

“O-oh, um, Tae-san knows more about the neighborhood, but I think so?”

“That’s good.” He was serious, and Tsubame nodded in flustered agreement.

“But you’re welcome to visit whenever you want.” Kaoru smiled. She poured Himura a second cup of tea, and he quietly thanked her. To Koshijiro’s knowledge, they hadn’t talked much since sending the telegram, but he was well aware of Himura’s gaze following her throughout the rest of their meal.

The following morning, Koshijiro stopped by the Maekawa household. Emergency construction had granted them security for the time being. His friend had been discharged from the hospital yesterday, and he intended to check on him. When he knocked on the door, Sachi answered. She looked worn out, and he immediately felt like he was intruding.

“Kamiya-sensei.” Even her voice was thready, as if she was drawing from the last reserves of her energy. “I’m very sorry, but my husband should be resting.”

“I understand. I only wanted to see how he was faring, but I won’t disturb him.”

“Is that you, Kamiya-sensei?” That could only have been Maekawa himself, weakly calling from inside the house. “Sachi, let him in.”

She pressed her lips together but beckoned Koshijiro to remove his shoes. She led the way to her husband and went straight to his side. “Really, dear, you should be sleeping.”

Maekawa was propped up in his futon, and his bandages appeared freshly changed. But the garish bruises on his neck were visible, as were the dark circles under his eyes. For as long as Koshijiro had known him, Maekawa had always acted young at heart, but he currently looked his age, older even. He lifted a hand to stop Sachi’s fretting. “A few minutes, that’s all I ask for. I should tell him about what’s going to happen.”

That sounded ominous, and once Sachi left, Koshijiro stared at Maekawa. “What do you mean?”

A silent moment passed. “First, I’ve noticed the decrease in student attendance, but I always chalked it up to other factors. Then, there was Isurugi and the challenge to the dojo. And now, this. I was denying it, but I can’t keep up anymore. I feel old, and this is the second time this year, that I’ve been hurt. I don’t think I ever fully recovered from the dojo breaking either. But I won’t let Sachi worry again. I’m going to retire.”

“Maekawa-sensei…”

“It’s for the best.” Maekawa’s smile was bittersweet. “I’ve had many good years teaching, and most of my current students are interested in moving to Hino, where my son is. Sachi wants to go too, because our daughter-in-law is expecting. So, I’ll be a grandfather next spring, and I’d like to see the baby, teach it kenjutsu when it’s older. Years from now, of course; I think I’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

“A quiet life isn’t bad at all. You may find that it suits you, and there are new things to enjoy. Retirement isn’t the end.”

“Speak for yourself. You haven’t slowed down, you’re semi-retired at best.” Maekawa tried to laugh but winced. “Aren’t you preparing for a wedding yet?”

Thankfully, Sachi heard his overexertion and when she hurried into the room, Koshijiro took the opportunity to excuse himself. He didn’t address Maekawa’s parting question. Not that he could mention Yukishiro’s challenge, but that possibility was the furthest thing from his mind. Every day seemed slow and fast at once, and they only had five more.

Out of courtesy, he paid a quick visit to the chief, who was at his follow-up appointment with Dr. Gensai. Chief Uramura was in better shape, and he was able to walk around the clinic with a cane for support. He waved when Koshijiro approached. “Officer Kamiya! I heard that you took charge during the attack in town. I can’t express how grateful I am. In my absence and the assistant chief’s, you were the leader that the men looked to for guidance. It could have been much worse.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Himura-san and Sagara-san should be commended as well.”

“Yes, I intend to give them a reward once I’m in the office, although it will pale in comparison to their deeds. The assistant chief said that you’re working on identifying the perpetrators?”

“…Mm.” Well, they already knew, but it was a matter of uncovering evidence. If he told the chief now, a manhunt would be ordered, yet that would only force Yukishiro into hiding or possibly hurt more officers if they came across the enemy. It wasn’t that they were obstructing justice, but they had to proceed with discretion. Koshijiro changed the subject, inquiring about the other injured officers. Apparently, most would need time off, and they’d be short-staffed over the next weeks. But the station would pull through, the chief insisted. Koshijiro certainly hoped so.

Exactly a week after the challenge had been issued, Koshijiro lingered at the end of his shift. He called the rookies to stay behind as well, to their obvious apprehension.

“Don’t worry. None of you are in trouble.” He reassured them, and after ensuring the room was secure, he explained. “I have an assignment for anyone who’s interested. Tomorrow night, the assistant chief inspector is leading a raid on a location of interest. It’s risky, and beyond the scope of your current responsibilities, especially since we’re stretched thin. I only wanted to extend the opportunity if you were interested; if not, I understand. Those who would like to hear the details can stay for the debriefing, but I’ll give a few minutes for you to think it over and leave if that’s what you wish.”

Then, he waited. Smiles broke out amongst the rookies, before Shinichi spoke up. “Officer Kamiya, we’re all in.”

“Good.” He couldn’t smile yet, but his shoulders felt lighter as he launched into the debriefing. The rookies asked plenty of questions, which was welcome. However, he was home late, and everyone looked so tired, he decided to breach the subject in the morning.

He caught Kaoru when she was shuffling out of her room and spoke to her first. She was already nodding. “Of course, I’ll come. Anything, to protect Kenshin. Does he know?”

“Not that the raid is tonight.”

For a moment, her confidence faltered. “I don’t want to keep secrets from him, but I know he’ll worry.”

“Then, we can talk to him together.”

“He already left. His door’s open and he already made his bed.”

That was a setback, but it couldn’t be helped. Given his assigned morning shift, Koshijiro had to leave. At least, he knew that Himura would return by sunset. He forced himself to take a nap in the afternoon, and that made time pass quicker. It was quiet in the house, too quiet, with the additional absences of Sagara and Yahiko. The latter was helping Tsubame settle into her new place with Tae, while the former was in town for “supplies”. What he was up to, Koshijiro had no idea.

When he woke, it was close to dinnertime. He wasn’t fully alert until everyone was at the table, including Takani who joined them with a strained smile. She was clearly worried too. They ate in silence, unable to manage small talk. Koshijiro forced down every bite, if only for the nourishment, and his portion was gone quickly. He intended to wait, but the minutes became excruciating.

“Um, Otou-san.” Kaoru tentatively broached the topic. “I think it’s okay to tell them now.”

“The dishes haven’t been cleared yet.”

“It’s more awkward that we’re just sitting like this, and you look tense. At this rate, you’ll get a muscle cramp at a bad moment.”

Yahiko eyed them suspiciously, and he talked with his mouth full. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

Himura set down his chopsticks. “This one was also wondering. Is it the warehouse?”

Koshijiro honestly replied. “Yes, it is. Now that we know Yukishiro Enishi is the culprit we’ve been searching for, we have an opportunity to gain some advantage. The plan was to conduct a raid tonight. I volunteered to join, along with my squad.”

“Kaoru-dono, so did you.” He looked at her, his expression giving nothing away.

“Kenshin, I want to help you.” She replied, leaning towards him. “If this can deal a blow, that’s good. And I’m not comfortable, waiting two more days to be attacked.”

“What if he’s there?”

“I doubt he is.” Koshijiro said. “We’ve been maintaining surveillance and have not seen anyone matching the description you gave. But perhaps, we can eliminate some of his subordinates.”

“Then, this one will go with you.”

“I’m not sure what Saito-san will say, but I have one request. Please do not draw your sword. Save your strength for your own battle.” It would not do at all, if Himura was injured before the fated duel.

He bowed his head. “This one agrees.”

So, they prepared to depart. Everyone was brought to speed on the current state of affairs, and even Yahiko refused to stay behind. They dressed for a fight, and Koshijiro double checked the shinai, opting to carry an extra. He didn’t think they needed it, but just in case.

Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Oh! Maybe we should give you a disguise, Kenshin. Wait right here, don’t leave without me.” She hurried off and momentarily returned with a patch bandage and the Western hat from their birthday outing. “It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.”

Himura gathered the weight of his hair, pulling as much as he could under the hat. Kaoru lent her assistance, tucking stray locks and ensuring the brim was smooth all the way around. The bandage, he carefully placed over his left cheek. “Thank you, Kaoru-dono.”

“You’re welcome. I’m here for you.” She quickly squeezed his hand. Koshijiro made note of it but didn’t speak. Himura was in need of all the assistance he could possibly receive, and helping him was the exception to the rule. That included emotionally, and Kaoru was the best person to do so.

“And what are you gonna do?” Yahiko asked Sagara. “Your hand’s still healing, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Earlier today, I stopped by Katsu’s for some…let’s call them ‘bonuses’. I meant to use them when Enishi shows up, but I can spare a few.”

“You should.” Takani said, her lips drawn into a taut line. “If you can protect your hand for as long as you can, before Yukishiro Enishi comes here, it’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” He slowly nodded. “I don’t have a lot, but if push comes to shove, it won’t hurt to ask Katsu if he’s made more. We’ve got a little time, and it has to count.”

The sky was a blue-black expanse and the wind rustling through the trees seemed abnormally loud, but they arrived at the station without issue. Koshijiro sighed in relief when they did, and Kaoru touched his elbow in reassurance. When they entered the meeting room, the rookies were already sitting in neat rows and gave proper greetings. Saito’s squad was present as well, a small number of experienced men.

And Saito himself was at the front, arms crossed and the familiar katana at his side. His gaze squarely landed on Sagara and Himura. “I told Kamiya to bring anyone available to fight. You two are in no condition to join.”

“Nice to see that you’re not dead.” Sagara shot back. This was the first time they’d met since Kyoto. Koshijiro hoped they would be able to cooperate.

“This one is only observing.” Himura said. “And Sanosuke will refrain from injuring himself any further. Kamiya-dono kindly invited us, so we will not overstep.”

“If you do, I’ll hold Kamiya accountable.”

Koshijiro gave Saito a flat look. “I trust them, and it was only fair to inform them. We have a raid to discuss. Where is Sawagejo-san?”

“Keeping an eye on the warehouse. We’ll meet him there.” Then, he called for attention, and the room fell silent before he provided the instructions.

The building had one point of entry, wide enough for three people at a time. The shift change was two hours before midnight, and they would take advantage, ambushing the incoming workers and entering in their stead. Saito’s team would handle the former task, while Koshijiro was going to lead the charge with his half. Once the warehouse was secured and the workers taken into custody, the balloons would be destroyed. Simple in theory, but they couldn’t afford arrogance. A distinct tension filled the air, as they reviewed their roles.

Koshijiro eyed Kaoru and Yahiko. “How are you two doing?”

“It’s a lot to take in. More formal than I expected.” She confessed. “Is this normal procedure?”

“Everything, except dismantling the balloons. It’s regretful that we can’t keep them intact for evidence, but we’re past that point. They’ve been stolen once, and now, the risk is too great.”

“Were they planning an aerial attack?” Yahiko stared up at him. “Like, shooting at us from above?”

“Most likely. It’s a possibility I don’t want to happen.”

“Me neither.”

Then, it was time. They headed out of the station, spread out to be less conspicuous. The streetlights glowed, but most of the alleyways were pitch black. Koshijiro maintained a head count, making sure nobody strayed. They were in the right district when someone walked out of a side street. Sawagejo held up his hands as they all turned toward him.

He gave a low whistle. “Whoa, ease up.”

“What are you doing away from your post?” Saito demanded.

“Looking for you? I got bad news. Maybe Baihu or Byakko or whatever suspects something’s up, because two upper-level folks are in the warehouse. A rough-looking fellow and a skinny one.” He squinted at Koshijiro and the others. “Oh, it’s you guys. Joining in on the action?”

“It’s good to see you again.” Himura politely said.

Sagara was less enthused. “Is that all you saw?”

“I didn’t want to be caught, so I hightailed it out of there.”

“Figures.”

The shift change was imminent, and voices drifted in their direction. Saito’s team took over, the workers swiftly muffled and bound. Petty knives were eagerly confiscated by Sawagejo, along with the keys which Saito tossed to Koshijiro. The looming shadow of the warehouse emerged from the city’s outline, and Koshijiro gave the signal to the rookies. Maeda inserted the main key, before Yoshihara and Eguchi pulled the large doors apart.

Someone called out, an irritated drawl. “Hey! You’re late. The bosses aren’t too happy…!” The lackey was cut off, as a rookie tackled him.

The interior was lit by oil lanterns, and while the rookies subdued the warehouse employees, Koshijiro glanced around. Crates upon crates, though the middle of the dirty floor was empty. And looking down from a metal staircase, two faces were chagrined. One was certainly familiar.

Inui snarled, his attention on Sagara. “You!”

“Yeah, it’s me. Guess I’m lucky, because I’ve been waiting to kick your ass!”

The other person was a slim, androgynous figure who was sliding behind Inui. Himura quietly identified the stranger. “That is Otowa, who attacked the chief’s house. If these two escape…”

“They’ll run straight to Yukishiro.” Koshijiro finished. “But it’s too early for a rematch.”

“I’m ready.” Sagara argued, just as Inui leapt over the railing and landed in the cleared area. “Don’t worry, old man. I have a strategy just for this guy.” He fished in his pocket and he palmed something round. An explosive? But there was no fuse.

“Inui, you’re being rash.” Otowa admonished in a nasal tone.

“Shut up! I’m gonna put this bastard in the ground.” His gauntlets had been fixed, and he tapped them together in anticipation.

Sagara clicked his tongue. “That’s my line. Kenshin, this is my fight. Don’t let anyone else butt in.”

“Be careful, Sano.”

The two fighters circled each other, but neither had a high capacity for patience. They collided, Inui dealing heavy blows. Sagara took each hit without complaint, attempting to steer them towards a tower of boxes. He was still holding the mysterious thing in his right fist. Then, a gauntlet glanced off his head, with its twin driving into Sagara’s solar plexus. He was sent flying into piled crates, the contents of travel supplies spilling.

“Oh, no.” Kaoru gasped.

Inui cackled over his sprawled form, pulling him up by the collar. His gauntlets creaked, the metallic segments spreading out. The words that left his mouth were crass, threatening to kill Sagara. Koshijiro must have moved, because Himura’s hand floated to stop him.

“Wait. Sano’s going to act.”

Indeed, Sagara was baring his teeth in a vicious smile. He threw down the object, aiming low. A small sack opened under them. Fine white powder billowed in the air.

Caught off guard, Inui coughed. “The hell?”

“Gotcha.” Sagara smirked. “It’s just rice flour. Or is that too much to handle?” He tore away from the loosened grip and dodged Inui’s retaliation, staying just beyond reach of a second and third blow.

In the middle of the next strike, Inui abruptly stopped. He howled in pain, erratically flailing his hands. Sparks flew between the segments of his gauntlets. A flame ignited near his left wrist, and he wrenched off the smoking device, only for the right one to catch fire.

“So that’s what the rice flour was for!” Yahiko exclaimed. “Every time the gauntlets are used, the metal parts rub against each other and heat up. It’s friction, right, Kamiya-san?”

“Yes, and the flour is very flammable.”

“Surprisingly smart.” Takani was genuinely impressed. “And I think it’s changed the tide of this battle.”

Sagara knew it too, stalking towards Inui. The man desperately tried to remove his other hot gauntlet, and he relied on brute force, metal shards scattering across the floor. By the glints in his skin, it was even more painful. The second gauntlet cracked into a multitude of pieces.

And Sagara delivered his first punch, breaking through the hasty defense of Inui’s burned forearms. With his right hand. He made contact with the lower jaw, and Inui’s head snapped back as he fell unconscious. Not a draw this time. Sagara staggered, but his expression was utterly triumphant.

“Well done.” Himura smiled.

Yahiko let out a cheer. “Sano! That was awesome!”

“I can’t believe you won! How’d you know to bring rice flour?” Kaoru asked.

“I didn’t. The flour was supposed to be fuel for a little bomb, but I removed it when Chou told us. I figured the rough guy was Inui, and I’ve been thinking about those gauntlets. I had to bring Inui to my level. Kenshin would make it an even fight, and your dad uses one hand just fine, so I knew it was possible. In a smarter way, like how they do. I pulled it off.”

Koshijiro was touched. “Yes, you did. However, at the last second…”

“Yeah, I know, but I only trust my right hand with the double punch and he had to stay down.” He turned to Takani, lifting his bleeding knuckles. “Sorry, my recovery has to start over.”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly! I thought you’d become wiser, but I truly have no medicine to cure stupidity. Come here.” She opened her medicine bag, already unwinding a new roll of bandages. In the background, Inui was bound and dragged towards the other workers.

But they weren’t finished yet. Otowa had descended, staring at Himura in obvious recognition. Then, Kaoru stepped in between them.

“You’re not fighting Kenshin. I’m your opponent.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m the second and current master of Kamiya Kasshin, the sword that protects life.” Her declaration rang through the warehouse. Koshijiro couldn’t be prouder of his daughter.

“Hm. What melodramatic words. Well then, let’s play.”

“Kaoru-dono.” Himura’s words were barely audible, only meant for her. “Otowa relies on deception and tricks. If you’re too close, he’ll surprise you. Poison is in his arsenal.”

“Thanks, Kenshin.” Then, she walked forward, readying her shinai.

Otowa possessed more restraint than his colleague, or perhaps, it was cowardice. He unsheathed his sword, almost bored by the situation. Kaoru was cautious and she didn’t react when Otowa called out. “If you’re the one fighting me, I don’t see how you’ll win. I have plenty of years as an assassin, and you’re only a woman.”

Kaoru bristled but she evenly replied. “I’m a woman but I’m a swordsman too. For as long as I can remember, I learned from the best. And since you’re already underestimating me, you’ve lost without realizing it. Someone like you could never win a fair duel.”

That must have touched a sore spot, because Otowa lunged. Kaoru maintained the distance, sticking to defensive maneuvers. Right away, Koshijiro noticed that Otowa was a poor swordsman. His footwork was clumsy, and there was no strength behind his attacks. He was certainly no match for Kaoru, but he was trying to get closer and she wouldn’t allow it. However, it would be a long fight, if she was trying to tire him out.

“You can beat him, Kaoru!” Yahiko hollered. He had drifted into the battle space. “You’re stronger!”

Kaoru didn’t react, but Otowa did. He whirled around, his free hand flicking, and in the next instant, black dust enveloped Yahiko. Yahiko spluttered and Koshijiro hurried to him with apprehension. Yahiko’s clothes were discolored and as he brushed himself off, his hands were covered in dark grit.

“It doesn’t look like poison.” Himura also approached, frowning at the substance. Then, he slightly turned and his eyes widened. “Watch out!” He shoved both of them aside, Yahiko spinning away from Koshijiro, just as Otowa’s sword bore down. It should have drove into the floor, but strangely, the blade jerked in midair and changed direction. Aiming for Yahiko.

Kaoru had taught him well, and he immediately parried, yelping in surprise. “What the heck?”

Otowa only sneered. “Haven’t you seen magic before? That’s my Bishamon sword.”

The sword and shinai moved towards Yahiko. He was faltering.

“Stop!” Kaoru stormed towards them, raising her shinai. “I’m the one you’re fighting, and it isn’t magic at all. You threw iron powder at him, and your sword’s magnetic.”

“Oh, you’re quite clever. Not clever enough to find a solution though.” He moved to strike again…and stopped short. His sword was pulled off course, attached to its own sheath.

Yahiko gripped the other end, and he shouted. “If your sword’s magnetic, your sheath is too! You underestimated me!” For the first time, Koshijiro was grateful for the boy’s pickpocketing history. And Kaoru was close enough now to attack.

Then, Otowa abandoned his weapon. He dashed, evading Kaoru’s strike, and lifted one arm, pointing at Yahiko who had just dropped the Bishamon sheath. A clicking sound, followed by a whir.

Six points of crimson bloomed on Yahiko’s sleeves and hakama. He crumpled.

“Yahiko!” Kaoru cried out, as Himura scooped him up. He carried Yahiko back to the group, and in the lantern light, dagger hilts gleamed. Koshijiro called for the rookies; Hoshi and Kato in particular had first aid experience and could help Takani.

“He isn’t poisoned but he’s very hurt.” Himura grimaced. “Megumi-dono?”

“No tendons or major organs have been hit. The wounds aren’t too deep but removing the daggers will hurt without anesthetic.”

“Do it all at once!” Yahiko gritted his teeth. “I can take it…”

Koshijiro silently clasped his hand, and Sagara did the same. Yahiko squeezed desperately, blinking back tears.

“You did very well. You’re brave, and you’ll recover quickly.” Himura reassured before removing a dagger. Takani took another, while Hoshi and Kato ensured the others were out. As Yahiko was being bandaged, Koshijiro turned his attention back to Kaoru. Her gaze was burning with fury at Otowa.

“How could you?!”

“There are no rules for an assassin. Shadow weapons are my specialty.” This was a challenge. Otowa had long-range and short-range capabilities, and he was merciless. He lifted his other arm, a manic smile curling up his face.

Kaoru ran. She disappeared into the crate pile, but unfamiliar territory wasn’t good cover. Otowa gave chase, and with both of them out of sight, Koshijiro strained to track them. Footsteps resounded against wood. Boxes tumbled and crashed. Then, through a small gap, he glimpsed his daughter’s expression.

She wasn’t panicked. She was searching for something.

A stacked tower shivered and toppled over, causing a horrendous din. Otowa stepped out, looking aggravated and disheveled as he failed to avoid the debris. “Are you giving up? Very well. I have my pick of targets out here. Who’s next?”

Koshijiro reached for his shinai, prepared to buy time for Kaoru. “You’re outnumbered. You should surrender while you can.”

“A one-armed fighter?” Otowa scrutinized him, moving further into the shadows. “Hm, you’re more of a match for Kujiranami.”

Was that the man from the Akabeko? “And why isn’t he with you?”

“Who knows? He would have loved to encounter Battousai. But that’s enough talk.” He was retreating, slipping within the darkest portion of the warehouse. Was he going to attack or flee?

Light flashed upon Otowa’s eyes. He was taken aback, shrieking and shaking his head. And Kaoru leapt from a crate, her shinai in one hand. In the other, a compass gleamed. It must have been among the scattered travel supplies. She turned it again to reflect the lanterns’ glow, sending another illuminating beam to blind Otowa. She landed solidly, avoiding his flailing, and she didn’t hesitate. A single true thrust, at the base of his throat. A choked sound escaped him, before Kaoru knocked him out.

She lowered her shinai and weakly smiled over her shoulder. “I’ve always hated shadow weapons.”

Everyone was silent in awe. She’d come up with such an ingenious, literally brilliant solution. Koshijiro had to correct himself. This was definitely the proudest he’d been of her.

The rookies took Otowa’s unconscious form away, and with the warehouse secured, a shout went up. The energy seemed to leave Kaoru’s body, and her knees buckled. Unfortunately, so did the nearest column of crates.

“Kaoru-dono!” Himura sprinted, diving for her. His hands lifted her off the ground, as his feet continued on to safety. The place where she’d been was buried under wooden splinters and straw. He stared down at her face. “Are you alright?”

“U-um, yeah.” She stammered. “Kenshin, thank you.”

He awkwardly cleared his throat but he wasn’t letting her down. “This one was worried when you were among the boxes. But this one is glad you won, and with a perfect answer. Light, against shadow.”

“I meant to distract him, so I could get closer.” Speaking of getting closer, her arms had looped around his neck. “It does seem a little cliched.”

“No, it was wonderful.” Himura insisted. His gaze had fallen to her lips…

“Officer Kamiya! Come quick, there’s trouble outside!”

Despite the news, Koshijiro was privately grateful for Shinichi’s summons. Himura gently released Kaoru, and their side exited the warehouse. Saito’s team had never joined them, and they finally saw why.

A distorted man was on the brutally torn ground, his arms and legs abnormally elongated. He was severely bloodied, his left shoulder a gory mess. Saito stood over him, raising his katana with a sense of conclusion.

“Saito-dono. Don’t kill him.”

At Himura’s voice, Saito did stop, but he glared. “He’s already accepted death. Do you recognize him?”

“It’s been over ten years but this one has not forgotten.” He nodded to the man. “Yatsume Mumyoi. An assassin, from a northern clan that modifies their own bodies for the sake of unearthing gold. This one met him during the Bakumatsu. His clan’s secret was revealed to an outsider, and so, he swore to kill this one.”

“A foolish reason. Ending a life of revenge isn’t worth my time but I have no issue with obliging him.”

“This one does. If he wants to have a fair fight, this one will later. But he should live, return to his clan, and find a way to survive outside of the gold mines. Please spare him, Saito-dono.” His hand lightly dropped to the hilt of the sakabato. Koshijiro was unsure how serious he was, but it was still a message. If Saito didn’t stand down, Himura would defend Yatsume.

After a tense moment, Saito rapidly sheathed his katana. “I expect him to be a model prisoner. Otherwise, I’ll fulfill his death wish.”

Yatsume’s appearance was extreme, but he was docile now. The desire for revenge must have fled, and he addressed Himura one last time, speaking through sharpened teeth. “Three of us were defeated, but not the other three and they’re the strongest ones. You may not want to be as kind when you meet them. And…thank you. It’s been more than fifteen years since I was in the north. I…would like to see it again.”

Himura didn’t answer, only inclining his head.

The men were escorted to jail under Sawagejo’s supervision. Sagara, Yahiko, and others with minor wounds were sent to the clinic, along with Takani. Those who stayed worked on the last task of destruction. The machinery was removed, the baskets stacked and set aside. The fabric was shredded by the rookies’ effort, rendering flight impossible. Yukishiro would never receive his hot air balloons.

And so, the eighth night ended. A victory, but Koshijiro felt dissatisfied. Half of Yukishiro’s gang still remained, and while they had the name of the last person, they learned nothing about Jinchuu.

When he heard that conversation, Koshijiro was supposed to be under cover.

He had told the rookies to keep an ear out for grave diggers, and while there weren’t any, Nakamura had been talking to an elderly individual, who reported a suspicious person by the rowhouses. The sighting was over a week ago, but that was all the information that could be obtained. “Poor fellow, he was half demented. I didn’t want to press him.”

So, Koshijiro went to investigate. He borrowed old baggy clothes from Maekawa and donned a conical hat to hide his face. He’d stand out with his missing arm but he devised a partial solution. One of the pillows in the shed had split seams, the cotton falling out. He took it all, padding the sleeve and tying the end closed. The overall appearance was lumpy but it was passable at a distance.

He made his way to the rowhouses, speaking to the residents. Apparently, they hadn’t noticed anyone out of the ordinary. However, when he mentioned the elderly individual, there were further details.

“Yeah, he’s a newcomer. Never sticks around in one spot, but he’s harmless.” The teenager he was interviewing suddenly pointed. “Oh, that’s him!”

Koshijiro turned to see a squat figure, meandering out of the neighborhood. A thick gray beard concealed most of his face, and an ancient pair of glasses was perched at the end of his nose.

It was easy to catch up to him. “Excuse me, sir. Sir?”

The man was humming to himself, and he didn’t register Koshijiro’s presence at first. At the end of the street, he finally looked at Koshijiro, languidly blinked, and gave a vacant smile. “It’s all good. It’s all good.”

Half demented. Koshijiro gently asked. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not yet, not yet. Too busy.”            

“The work can wait. You should have something at least.” It was noon anyway, and he felt sorry for the stranger. He purchased two shares of grilled onigiri, keeping an eye on the other man. He had sat down, idly rolling his fingers. When Koshijiro returned, a gleam caught his attention. The stranger was playing with a coin.

“It isn’t enough, oh, it’s still too much…” A mutter escaped him. He wouldn’t even look at his lunch, chewing from the side of his mouth. He was completely engrossed with the coin.

“What’s too much?”

“For my daughter. A gift.”

“And you don’t have enough money.” Koshijiro paused. “I also have a daughter. I think yours will be happy with whatever you give her.”

“No! This is the only thing. The only thing…”

“Then, if you show me what it is, I’ll help pay the difference.” He offered, thinking that it was a small keepsake.

To his surprise, the item of choice was a hairpin. It wasn’t cheap, but to his added shock, the man had scraped together loose change to almost cover the full price. Koshijiro had paid more for their riceballs than the hairpin’s leftover amount. But the stranger was ecstatic, grabbing Koshijiro’s hand and dancing in the street for a minute that lasted far too long.

Embarrassed, Koshijiro pulled his conical hat down. “Really, that was nothing.”

“Thank you!” Wrinkles appeared at the edges of his eyes. He happily twirled the hairpin, lifting it to the sunshine. When he glanced back at Koshijiro, his expression was subtly different. Keener, perhaps. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But I did intend to talk to you. I heard you saw someone suspicious.”

“Yes, suspicious.” He nodded vigorously. “Thin, like he could disappear. Like a skeleton.”

That sounded like Gein. “What was he doing?”

“Looking, digging, putting things in his bucket. He finished and went away from the slums.”

“Did you follow him?”

“No. He was frightening. Stayed far away.”

It was utterly cryptic, but Koshijiro didn’t know what else to ask. “I see. I appreciate what you observed.” He was about to leave when the stranger called out.

“Is your daughter well?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Good. Very good.” The stranger’s smile wobbled, and then, he resumed admiring the hairpin. He skipped off into the distance. An odd fellow, but not malicious at all.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the slums. He probably looked like a weary laborer and it wasn’t an issue to adopt the persona. But it seemed that the stranger was the only one who had noticed Gein, or he was the sole person willing to divulge that information. Despite his best efforts, the inhabitants were surlier and avoided any line of questioning. In this part of the city, the destitute were struggling; they had other priorities than minding a suspicious figure. The dead were lying in the open air, and Koshijiro’s stomach rebelled at the sights and smells. But Gein’s first costume had been made of human skin…if he was here, it had to be for obtaining more. His sources should have been buried though, since it was over a week ago.

So, where did he take his bucket? And what new costume is he making? Most likely, there will be clues in the Yokohama mansion. I have to tell Saito and Sawagejo.

Unable to make more progress, he headed out. He remained in the laborer’s guise, still deep in thought. The scenery gave way to clean grass and fresh air, the burbling river and its sparkling surface. A light wind swept through the reeds, promising cooler weather in the evening. A balm for his dulled senses.

“Hey! You shouldn’t eat out after training!”

He smiled. He certainly recognized that voice, even more of a balm. Up ahead, he spotted his daughter’s profile on the opposite bank. Beside her, Himura’s red hair shone in the light of the setting sun. They were speaking to a trio of young students from another dojo, who were leisurely sitting and eating soba noodles. The students asked whether Kaoru would stop by to guest teach, and taken note of Himura, who they’d seen around town. The two of them were definitely popular.

Koshijiro maintained his current pace and lowered his hat, praying that he wouldn’t be noticed. He’d have a hard time explaining his appearance, cotton-filled sleeve included. He sidestepped a passing cart, and when he turned his attention to the road again, Kaoru and Himura were further in the distance. They were still talking, but Himura slowed to a stop. Koshijiro carefully approached, trying to discern their conversation.

He heard Himura first. “Yahiko’s recovering but his ambition has only been stoked. Sano will always search for new fights, and Megumi-dono is already looking towards Aizu. It would be nice if the days continued like this, but this one knows that eventually, our paths will lead us elsewhere.”

It was inevitable, Koshijiro thought. Everyone had their own desires and purposes, their personal dreams to fulfill. If they had to leave the Kamiya dojo, it would be sad, but if they could grow, it was for the best. However, Koshijiro noticed that Himura had not mentioned himself.

And so did Kaoru. Her clear voice soared across the river. “But…I want to stay at your side forever.”

Koshijiro snapped his head up, but neither his daughter nor Himura seemed to have noticed, for they were in a moment that only belonged to them. Himura was wordlessly staring at Kaoru with singular intensity. Understandable, because it had sounded like a proposal.

She broke first, clearly flustered and attempting to walk past him. “W-well, it’s getting late.”

Himura reached out, clasping her shoulder. He leaned in, pressing against her back, and Koshijiro had to strain to listen.

“Do you remember what this one said, when we returned from Kyoto? This one said he was home, for the first time in over ten years.” His hand remained, as his arm protectively covered her back.

“Really?” Her gaze was soft and shining.

“Yes.”

They smiled at each other, still in that intimate closeness as they walked on. And Koshijiro watched them go.

The morning of the tenth day was startlingly sunny, and that somehow worsened the pervasive dread. It was as if everyone was tethered to the house, unable to tread past the gate. A crow squawked, and Koshijiro flinched at the harsh sound.

“Kamiya-san? Are you okay?” Yahiko tugged at his sleeve. His six wounds were better, though his movement was constrained.

“Not really. It’s the heightened awareness before battle, and it’s not a pleasant feeling.”

“Yeah. Do you think they’re watching us?”

“I don’t sense any gazes, but I wouldn’t put it past them.” They had to be angry too.

Yahiko shuddered. “Ugh. Sano said they’re probably gonna wait until nighttime. Tsubame should go back before it gets dark.”

The girl was visiting, clearly worried about everyone. Her mouth was stuck in a frown, and she was eager to help with anything.

At noon, they went over the plan. Most likely, Kujiranami would charge in, with the Armstrong cannon. Gein was still an unknown variable, but he didn’t seem like a frontline fighter. If he supported the other two, he would have to be stopped. As for Yukishiro, he would lie in wait, saving the duel with Himura for the end.

Sagara was still the best lookout they had, and he wouldn’t relinquish his position as vanguard. “I’m Kenshin’s right hand, after all.”

“You should worry about your own first.” Takani warned. “If you’re reckless again, I may not be able to save it.”

“Well, I’ve got the bonuses and something else to help me out. You’ll see tonight.”

Himura intended to stay in the front yard. “Enishi will not reach the house, this one will make sure of it.”

Koshijiro opted to take point at the front steps and Kaoru offered to guard the dojo with Yahiko. Takani would be on standby, for medical assistance.

And there was one more person to account for. “Saito-san’s also coming.” Koshijiro informed them. At their shocked outcry, he added. “He only said that he wants to know what Jinchuu is, but he didn’t say he’ll fight. He won’t be here until later, because he’s waiting for Sawagejo-san’s report. We’re still searching for Gein’s location of…his work.” With the three in custody, the Yokohama mansion’s security had to be decreased. Sawagejo was planning a raid with Saito’s team, for an in-depth investigation.

Kaoru stared at the gate. “Misao isn’t here yet…I hope she and Shinomori-san are alright.”

“Have you heard from her again?” Himura asked.

“Not since the telegram she’d sent last week, and that was right after mine.”

“They are both capable, worthy of the Oniwabanshuu titles they possess. Sano will see them, when they arrive.” He reassured her, and she tentatively smiled.

And then, too quickly, the sun slipped down. Teacups and small onigiri were passed around, though no one had much of an appetite. They whipped around when there was a knock on the gate, but it was Tae, who was picking up Tsubame.

Tae wasn’t aware of the entire story, but she knew that there was impending danger. “It’s the people who’ve been attacking…they’re coming here, aren’t they? What about the police?”

“The assistant chief inspector will join us soon.” Koshijiro explained. “We’re already short-staffed and the inexperienced officers will only be put at risk. It’s better that they guard the culprits in custody.”

“I suppose so.” Tae trailed off, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I believe in all of you. Now, Tsubame, we should let them prepare.”

Tsubame was on the verge of tears. “I can’t stay? I know I’m not strong, but I can still help…”

“You already escaped the destruction of the Akabeko.” Himura was kind but firm. “They will not target the new place. You will be safer in town.”

She scrubbed at her eyes, her voice choked. “Everyone, please be safe.”

Yahiko patted her between the shoulders. “It’s okay. We’ll see you tomorrow.” He said it with utmost certainty. “So, don’t worry. Everyone will be back together in the morning.”

For the first time today, the frown reversed a little. “Okay.”

It was much quieter after they left. The burning sky cooled to indigo, pierced by stars, before deepening to relentless black. The air was chillier with each passing hour. Four hours left of today, then three.

Sagara waited by the gate, his zanbato in his grasp. This was the item he alluded to. The horse-killing sword had been repaired, and although he complained about the exorbitant cost, he grinned at it like an old friend. Suddenly, he exclaimed. “Saito’s here! He’s alone.”

“Keep your voice down.” Saito brusquely strode in, cigarette between his teeth. He ignored Sagara’s irritated face. “Or you’re asking to be cannon fodder. Kamiya, I finally heard from Shanghai.”

“What did they find on Yukishiro?”

“His organization is relatively new, established only a handful of years ago. But they garnered attention, because of the modifications they apply to weapons. Their work is in high demand. If we capture Yukishiro, the Shanghai police want to extradite him. I’ll obstruct them of course; we have the right to try him here for the ruin he’s caused. Sawagejo is late, I have no idea what he’s doing in Yokohama.” He took another pull of his cigarette. Koshijiro hoped that Sawagejo was fine.

Then, Sagara hurried towards them, hissing. “I feel vibrations in the ground. Something’s-!”

The sound came first, a resounding boom. In the next instant, the gate split, blowing apart and giving way to thick smoke. Pieces of the stone walls sailed through the air, landing heavily in the front yard. The Armstrong cannon had fired.

The enemy was here.

As the dust settled, an outline gradually took shape. Judging by the bulk, it had to be the other one-armed veteran, Kujiranami. But his right arm looked more solid.

Three small spheres rolled toward him, before exploding in bursts of light. But Kujiranami was unfazed by Tsunan’s miniature bombs. He kept moving and the smoke dissipated. In the Akabeko, he was rather polite, almost docile. However, the man who destroyed the gate seemed like an entirely different person. His lips curled, baring his teeth, and his eyes were black with rage. This was the expression of a wild animal. “Battousai!”

Behind him, two more figures stood in the street. One was Gein, albeit without a grotesque costume, and he set down a large medicine chest. The other was unfamiliar. So, Yukishiro Enishi finally revealed himself. His short hair was completely white, and he had to be taller than Himura. A cloak hid his body from the neck down. The round lenses of his glasses were pristine. And he was smiling.

Then, Kujiranami rolled his right shoulder. A large metal cylinder had taken the place of his lost limb and he raised it, pointing the open end towards the house. The cannon!

Himura sprinted, into a leap. He soared and struck. A blow to the head, down the cannon, to the groin, and up the left arm, before the final attack hit the breastbone. It happened so quickly, as if Kujiranami was targeted by nine swords at once. He reeled, joining the debris on the ground.

Landing solidly on his feet, Himura cried out. A kiai. The surrounding grass blades snapped under the wave of Himura’s crackling energy. His training seemed to have paid off.

“Kenshin’s alright.” Kaoru murmured, and Koshijiro turned to see that she had approached. Yahiko was also sidling their way.

“I don’t think it’s safe. You should go inside the dojo.”

“It’s better to see what’s coming.” She argued.

Yahiko interrupted, pointing at Kujiranami. “Ah, he’s getting up again!”

The man was uneasily standing, but the rage remained. He set his feet apart, and then, his form disappeared behind a bright flash that consumed Koshijiro’s sight.

Out of instinct, he pushed Kaoru out of the way.

A familiar silhouette with spiky hair moved. Sagara swung, and the screech of colliding metal was at a disturbing pitch. Something flew towards the house, embedding in the dirt. The zanbato had broken in half again, but its purpose was fulfilled. The cannonball headed back towards Kujiranami, who raised the cannon in time to deflect it to the side. The blast sent rippling tremors through the earth.

Koshijiro experienced this with a sense of detachment. It was the battlefield all over again, and he grasped for control. He couldn’t succumb now, not at this crucial moment. His left shoulder tensed, more intense with each second.

“Otou-san.” Kaoru was standing over him. When had he fallen? She helped him sit, kneading his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re alright.”

Takani peered at him, and the back of her hand pressed against his forehead. “You don’t look good, Kamiya-san.”

“I’m…fine.”

“But cannonfire is difficult for you. And why aren’t you helping Ken-san?” She addressed Saito, glaring at him.

“He’s holding his own.” He nodded towards the dueling pair. “And I suspect that Yukishiro allowed Kujiranami to decide his own grudge first.”

Koshijiro was still recovering, and he hazily registered Himura delivering a decisive slash against Kujiranami. He fell, incapacitated at last.

“Of course, Kenshin wins.” Yahiko nodded. “Just two more left.”

However, Yukishiro crossed the ruins of the gate. He ignored his unconscious ally, his attention solely on Himura. Gein trailed, dragging the medicine chest along.

Himura sheathed his sakabato in preparation, retreating to the rest of the group. He regarded them with a grave seriousness. “It is this one’s chance to end Enishi’s destruction.”

“Yes. Kenshin,” Kaoru softly said. “After so many painful struggles, it’s a new era. It’d be wonderful if we can all find happiness and peace.”

And he smiled. He looked…resolute. “The new era has just begun.”

“Alright! Settle this for good!” Sagara cheered.

Yahiko wouldn’t be outdone. “Don’t lose! I’ll smack you if you lose!”

“And I’ll cure your wounds!” Takani was at the ready.

Koshijiro finally had the strength to speak. “You’ve worked hard and it’s time to prove it.”

Their gazes moved to Saito, in expectation. He cleared his throat. “Well. Good luck.” A lackluster encouragement, but at least, it was honest.

Himura took a breath and met Yukishiro in the middle of the yard. Whatever they were saying was too quiet to hear from the house. Koshijiro studied the white-haired man; something about him was almost recognizable. And it hit him. Yukishiro reminded him of Otsuna. It was the air of cruelty beneath an unassuming face. Yukishiro’s posture seemed lax but Koshijiro could tell that he was seething, waiting to exact retribution. Hopefully, he would be reckless.

Yukishiro removed his cape, then revealed his sword. The ornate hilt gleamed in the moonlight, twin golden tassels swinging. But the blade was much longer than a katana.

“The finish is from the mainland…but it’s a Japanese sword, isn’t it?” Kaoru’s eyes widened.

“A tachi.” Koshijiro said. “A relic from the Sengoku era. I wonder how he obtained it.”

“Does it matter?” Saito countered. “You don’t have to know the enemy’s full ability, as long as you have the strength to defeat them.”

Koshijiro glanced at his daughter. Her worried gaze was focused on Himura. Now that he was feeling better, he silently squeezed her hand. They had to believe in Himura. And afterwards, they could discuss a certain conversation about the future.

The time for talking was over. Yukishiro’s voice carried on the wind. “Begin!” He truly was impatient because he attacked first.

Himura leapt and parried. With his speed and agility, Yukishiro’s heavy offense was just short of reaching him. But Yukishiro wasn’t a poor opponent. He was able to keep up with Himura, surprisingly quickly. He had the muscle to power his strikes and his sword was already formidable.

“He has potential. The training. But that’s it.” Saito noted.

“He’s definitely not stronger than Shishio.” Sagara agreed. “Makes sense. He’s been overseas.”

“But if he had learned kenjutsu here…” Kaoru trailed off. If he had, he would have been much stronger.

Yukishiro was taunting Himura. “How half-hearted. Why don’t you reveal some of your moves? Or should I show you one of mine? Your Hiten against my watojutsu!” And then, he pressed forward, combining a hit with a kick against the blunt side of the blade. It increased the force of the blow, to a severe maximum.

Himura was knocked against the wall. He was standing but he’d been surprised.

This isn’t good. Yukishiro has learned a form of kenjutsu. Koshijiro thought.

“This is what I gained over ten years. The strength that allowed me to climb to the top.” Yukishiro boasted. “A new kind of swordsmanship, perfected on the mainland. In the days when the tachi was supreme, pirates battled in the sea of Japan. The Ming army studied the Japanese sword, developing their own. The wato, and watojutsu to command it.”

“So, it is a fusion. Japanese speed and sharpness, combined with Chinese power and grace.” Himura had regained his bearings.

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Now, I’m done with playing around.”

Himura didn’t rise to the bait. “You should remove your glasses. One mistake will cause you to be blind.”

“Why? Are you underestimating me, or overestimating yourself?” Yukishiro sneered.

“Neither. This one is not fighting to hurt you, but to stop you.”

They stared at each other, the wind eerily passing through.

“Not only are you hard to ignite, but the spark takes time to catch. Fine.” Yukishiro clicked his tongue. “Until then, I’ll entertain myself with a story from the past.” He lunged, continuing the fight. Himura blocked just in time, his teeth clenched. Yukishiro drawled a familiar phrase. “Once upon a time, there was a kid whose big sister was murdered before his eyes. Alone in the world, he came to hate Japan and crossed the ocean to Shanghai. But that city was merciless, and the kid became skin and bones.”

“Stop. No more of this story.” Himura rebuked him.

Yukishiro went on, striking again and again. “Starving, exhausted, ill. The kid finally couldn’t move. Then, a Japanese couple found him. They were literature scholars, who took the kid in amongst their own. They fed him, clothed him, and tended to his injuries. And the kid thanked the gods…for giving him such foolish prey. The father was first, his flesh weak and soft. His face was so shocked, when his throat was slit! Then-”

“Enishi! Stop!”

“The older son was looking for his father, and he entered the room. He was annoying, always smiling and reading. The kid enjoyed gouging out his eyes. But his dying screams alerted the mother, who happened to have the baby in her arms. Imagine that! She couldn’t even protect her last son. The kid stabbed her, then strangled the little nuisance. Now, he had the house to himself, and no more money problems for a long time.”

Bile rose in Koshijiro’s throat. How monstrous. He barely registered Takani and Sagara’s murmuring.

“How could he?”

“He’s rotten to the core.”

Yukishiro’s voice reached a gleeful pitch. “He needed to become strong, to obtain a weapon. And among the books, there was a volume about watojutsu. He was self-taught, so his style had a personal twist. By the time he finished growing, he was second to none. So, because every fairy tale has a message, answer this question. Why did the child massacre the family? I’ll give you options.”

Himura put some distance between them, shouting. “Enough!”

“Number one: the family resisted. Number two: the kid was a psychopath. Number three: for the kid whose only joy in life was taken from him, he couldn’t bear to see a family living so happily.” His eyes narrowed. “Of course, the answer is number three.”

Himura attacked, spinning to gain force. But this wasn’t the move to use, and the tachi found an opening. Blood soaked Himura’s left sleeve.

“Fool. A counterattack can’t be repurposed like that.” Saito exhaled. “He was countered in turn.”

“It wasn’t the best decision.” Koshijiro said aloud. What was wrong with Himura?

“Kenshin had to have a reason!” Yahiko was defiant but even his eyes darted nervously. “Right?”

Himura dodged; the wound must have provided some clarity. Yukishiro was emboldened though and continued to broadly swing the tachi. In the periphery, Gein was toeing closer and closer, as if he couldn’t resist watching the duel. A firecracker exploded at his feet and he drew back.

Sagara was already palming another. “There’s more where that came from!”

“How many did Tsunan give you?” Takani asked.

“Enough to keep this guy in his place.” However, that meant he couldn’t target Yukishiro.

Kaoru had stepped forward, her ponytail sailing. “How can we help Kenshin?”

Her movement had caught Yukishiro’s attention. He glared at her, with such intense malice. Koshijiro’s skin crawled, and Kaoru tried not to flinch. The tachi halted in midair, as Yukishiro tilted his head.

“After years in endless winter, the kid found the hitokiri who killed his sister. The hitokiri had changed his name, found his next, and was living happily ever after. The kid…no, the young man couldn’t accept this.”

Insane. Yukishiro was insane.

Himura was still bleeding but his speed hadn’t diminished. He cut off Yukishiro, standing between him and the group. “This is a personal battle. There is no need to involve anyone else. You will be stopped here.”

Yukishiro smiled wide. “Then, come at me!”

The battlefield quieted, a pause in anticipation. They were reanalyzing, now that they were aware of the other’s capabilities. This was the real match. But that glare had been telling. Himura was not the only target. Kaoru was in danger too.

Koshijiro pulled her behind him. “It isn’t safe. We should evacuate you.”

“Otou-san?”

Saito actually agreed. “Listen to your father. You noticed Yukishiro’s eyes, didn’t you?”

“I know. He wasn’t seeing me like a regular opponent, but I can’t really describe it.”

“Then, you understand. You are Himura’s greatest weakness. If the situation turns against him, Yukishiro will go after you. Kamiya, are there any other exits?”

“No. The gate, or what remains, is the one way out.”

“So I can’t leave.” Kaoru said. “Even if Gein is taken out, Yukishiro Enishi is closer to the gate. He’ll get to me before Kenshin does. This is a duel that Kenshin can’t avoid, and I can’t influence the outcome, not even to save myself.” She looked at Koshijiro. “I’m the master of Kamiya Kasshin. I swore to protect life, and I won’t abandon everyone else.”

He’d taught her well. Too well. He grimaced. “If it becomes dire, I will act.”

“Well, that was your chance. Don’t expect me to lend a hand.” Saito grunted. Koshijiro had the fleeting thought to swat the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Oh, stop mumbling!” Takani chided them all. “Kaoru, you should be watching Ken-san closely.”

“Why don’t you cheer him on?” Sagara added.

“Just me?” Kaoru was flustered.

“Uh, yeah.” Yahiko rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who he wants to hear.”

Even Saito joined in. “It probably won’t make a difference, but they haven’t done anything. Yell to get them started.”

“Himura-san was slipping earlier, but he needs to focus now.” And Koshijiro admitted. “You’ve always helped him the most.”

Her blush deepened. “Geez…” She cupped her hands on either side of her mouth and inhaled. Her voice wasn’t shy at all. “Do your best, Kenshin!”

And they began. It was unclear who moved first, but their swords clashed. The intersection leaned one way, then another. It felt like an eternity, before they broke apart.

“Still not serious!” Yukishiro scoffed. “Go on, use a Hiten move!” Then, he rushed.

Himura jumped to escape him, preparing for his characteristic overhead attack. But Yukishiro met him in the air, and the tachi pushed against Himura’s front. Himura flew…and pushed off against the wall, retaliating with the nine strikes. Yukishiro disappeared in a cloud of dust as he came back to earth.

Somersaulting cleanly, Himura was back in the middle of the yard. He’d hit each vital point, and it seemed as if the tide had turned. Until Yukishiro reemerged, with a mad grin.

“It didn’t do anything?” Kaoru whispered.

“No, he was affected.” Koshijiro saw Yukishiro slightly wobble. “If there’s pain, he’s ignoring it. Or he isn’t even feeling it.”

Indeed, he was laughing. “I’m happy! Battousai, I wanted you to demonstrate this kind of power. If you really were weak, that would make me a good-for-nothing unable to protect Nee-san.”

“He was already in this mindset before coming here.” Despite the certainty in his tone, Saito was displeased. “His will has surpassed his body.”

“That means Kenshin has to use the succession technique.” Sagara scowled. “But it’s the last move Kenshin should make. Because after that, he’s immobile.”

Then, it was life or death.

Yukishiro switched to a reverse grip, adjusting his glasses again. “I still have to complete Jinchuu. Now, let’s end this. Unleash the secrets of Hiten Mitsurugi!”

Himura renewed his grip on the sakabato. “Forgive this one, Enishi. Your feelings for Tomoe are not wrong. Your grudge against this one is not wrong. But the way you’ve lived for the past fifteen years definitely is. This one will strike you down. Here. Now.”

He had to. There was no other path.

Takani gasped. “What’s wrong?”

Koshijiro looked in her direction and saw his daughter violently shivering. Her eyes were unblinking, her mouth drained of color. Immediately, he tucked her under his arm, briskly rubbing her cheeks. She was cold to the touch. “Kaoru?”

“Crime…”

“Hm?”

“Yukishiro Enishi thinks he’s carrying out punishment for Kenshin’s crime. But Kenshin hasn’t resolved his feelings yet…this battle should’ve been after he did.”

That explained Himura’s behavior. Did he feel guilty, that he should be punished? Dread flickered within Koshijiro.

And Yukishiro had given in to his inner madness. “As long as my sister smiles at me, I will be stronger than anyone. Battousai, is my sister smiling at you?”

Himura bowed his head. “She is not smiling now, but when this battle ends, this one believes she will. Let’s…go…”

This was it. Himura drew and stepped forward, while Yukishiro crouched. The first strike missed. From Sagara’s retelling, Himura’s second step was the secret. A risky acceleration that created a vacuum to throw off the opponent, before the follow-up strike dealt devastating force.

They collided. Blood splattered.

Himura’s blood.

A large diagonal wound cut across his front, and he was brought to his knees. A choked noise escaped him. And Yukishiro was standing.

“If I’d been a second slower, it would have been a draw.” He brought his hand to a smaller slash on his chest. “Closer than I thought. I’m glad that your intel as Iwanbo was effective.” He said this over his shoulder to Gein, who nodded.

“Why?!” Sagara yelled. “Why wasn’t he affected by the vacuum?”

“He was.” Saito answered. “His lower stance allowed him to withstand it, and used the current to drive his own semicircular strike. The flying talons of a dragon were unable to reach the tiger in the grass.”

Yukishiro overheard. “You’re good but it’s simpler than that. My sister smiled upon me, that’s all.” He loomed above Himura. “How is it, Battousai? Does it hurt? But you hurt Nee-san more. I could kill you now, but that isn’t Jinchuu. The preparations are done. It’s time for the true Jinchuu!”

Smoke billowed through the yard. It had to be Gein’s handiwork and he intoned. “It is not poisonous. Only to prevent…unnecessary interruptions.”

“Kenshin!” Kaoru screamed, and Koshijiro had to tighten his hold on her.

Yukishiro walked around Himura, advancing towards them. “Death is just a momentary pain. It won’t satisfy Nee-san or me. The fiancé she loved was taken from her, and she was taken from me. It’s my turn to take away the person who’s most important to you!”

He’s going to kill Kaoru!

“Old man, get back.” Sagara ground out. He was positioned just in front of Koshijiro, and Yahiko mirrored him. Takani had taken Kaoru’s other hand, and despite Saito’s earlier talk, his hand rested on his katana. A protective formation. Koshijiro shuffled in a retreat, staring down Yukishiro.

But he was only seeing Kaoru. “You’re all annoying. Everyone but Kamiya Kaoru should stand aside.”

“Stop…” A voice floated, and a comforting silhouette appeared through the smoke.

Yukishiro turned, fingers on the bridge of his glasses. “Are you still trying to get up? If you die, my Jinchuu will-”

Himura’s fist slammed against Yukishiro’s cheekbone, in a satisfactory punch. Yukishiro was bowled over, his glasses skittering away. And now, Himura stood over him.

His expression was of righteous fury, his grip firm on the sakabato. He vehemently declared. “I won’t allow it. Even if Tomoe is smiling on you, I won’t allow it!” The smoke enveloped them, obscuring their details.

“Saito and I will help Kenshin. We’re gonna smack the shit out of Glasses and his cronies.” Sagara threw the last of his friend’s firecrackers, in an attempt to disrupt the enemy. Gein was unaccounted for, a ghost in their home.

Koshijiro grabbed his daughter by the waist, but she struggled, calling out to Himura. Tears rolled down her face.

A shadow thumped the wall. “Gah!” It sounded like Yukishiro. Good.

New strength was in Himura’s voice. “Enishi, you will be defeated here. You won’t lay a finger on Kaoru-dono!”

The wind shifted, blowing the smoke around them. It was hard to see the others. Koshijiro urged. “Kaoru, we can’t stay here.”

“But…!”

Yahiko appeared. He was scared but he lifted the end of her shinai, moving it towards her. Reminding her. “Yukishiro Enishi can’t find you. Megumi and I will be decoys.”

Takani had tied her hair in a high ponytail. She was bending her knees, matching Kaoru’s height. “They might not fall for it, but we have to try something. Run!”

They split, Yahiko grabbing Takani’s hand and Koshijiro leading Kaoru. He had to formulate a plan, and he muttered in her ear. “The back of the house should be clearer. I’ll vault you over the wall.”

She sobbed. Whether she agreed or not, he didn’t know. But he had to save her.

He bumped into the corner of the dojo, and he held the edge to anchor himself. Visibility was better, but the smoke was thickening. He brought Kaoru to the corner of the backyard, and he squatted so she could climb on his knees and shoulders. The night had been long, and they were exhausted. Kaoru was wobbling unsteadily. His own hand shook as he helped her onto the wall’s edge.

“Battousai!” Kujiranami was awake. Then, there was a loud crash, and Himura cried out in pain.

They froze. Kaoru looked down at him, then extended her open palms. “Otou-san, come on!”

“Run to the station. There should be at least one officer on duty. Go, Kaoru.” Then, he dove back into the smoke. He couldn’t see past the length of his arm. He forced his breathing to slow and he made as little extraneous movement as possible. He had to find the others. He had to remain invisible.

Someone was near. Tall, with bare arms. Koshijiro’s stomach dropped, but he had to change direction. Carefully, he maneuvered to the right place and not a moment too soon. He met the other person’s gaze. It was brief, but Yukishiro was caught off guard. As if he hadn’t expected Koshijiro to be there.

Koshijiro tackled him. This was home, and he knew exactly where they were: behind the dojo. The sliding doors collapsed under their combined weight, and they skidded on the tatami.

“You! Maybe, I should sacrifice you too.” Yukishiro snarled, tossing Koshijiro off. Air was expelled out of Koshijiro’s lungs and he gasped for air. He rolled to his side, trying to regain his footing. The smoke was entering the dojo. And when he glanced above, golden tassels danced. The tachi was raised, the point aimed at Koshijiro.

But it never came. Yukishiro’s head jerked forwards as a shinai cracked over his skull. It snapped cleanly in two. He howled, whirling around.

Kaoru had already retreated, giving him a wide berth. She had the hilt remaining, but she already had experience utilizing a broken hilt. She lifted her chin. “I promised to stay alive! Get away from my father!”

But Koshijiro couldn’t let her draw his attention. With the growing smoke, things were losing shape. He planted his feet and reached out. The tassels were soft, slightly sticky with blood. He roared. “Not one step further!” And he yanked.

Yukishiro still held onto his weapon, and he stumbled. Then, gravity took the tachi. Too late, Koshijiro was left open. The left side of his ribcage caved under Yukishiro’s knuckles. Options were low. He released the tassels, blindly found purchase in the bloodied shirt…and headbutted Yukishiro.

The impact rattled, bringing them apart just as forcefully. Koshijiro blinked; it was becoming a challenge to discern through the haziness. It was as bad as outside. He couldn’t tell where the tachi was. “Yukishiro Enishi! Show yourself!”

He heard the whistle before there was sudden, hard pressure on his left shoulder. Then, searing pain. A shadow weapon? As he went down, he was a little glad that the enemy was this desperate.

“Gein!” Yukishiro hissed. “I almost had him!”

“Time is short. We still have things to accomplish.”

A moment of deliberation followed. Kaoru materialized beside Koshijiro, looking determined. Her arms came around him, slowly heading for the broken doors. He felt along his shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the base of a dagger. It was deep in the joint. With his injuries, he was a hindrance.

“It’s safer this way.” Kaoru murmured. “Kenshin hasn’t given up yet, so I won’t either. He’ll be here soon.”

He shook his head, repeating his command. “Go.”

Her lips parted to protest. And in the next instant, she was abruptly wrenched into the smoke. Cold fear overtook him. Koshijiro tore the dagger out, ignoring the ripping tissue and gush of blood. Where was she? He groaned.

“Otou-san! …Hey! Let go of me, let go!” Kaoru was crying out, and he willed his body to move.

Get up. Get up, you old fool! Kaoru needs you-

“Stubborn bastard.” Yukishiro’s voice was faint. “Get rid of him.”

Move!

Another projectile, an explosive one this time. Koshijiro was thrown, force and pain erupting in a line across the side of his head. Warm liquid trickled down his temple. But he was still breathing. Muffled noises faded in and out; he hoped his eardrum hadn’t ruptured. He was prone and deaf, but he wasn’t dead yet. Not yet. He didn’t stir, didn’t dare to breathe. Damn it, where was Kaoru?

At once, the smoke lifted.

…What?

He couldn’t process what he was seeing. Everything was blurry. Gi soaked red. Her eyes, staring in an unfocused way. His little girl was hurt. They hurt her. Sword in chest, don’t pull it out, she’ll lose too much blood, Kaoru, don’t speak, breathe slow, breathe, please breathe, move a little, give a sign please, someone help!

Takani’s face hovered over him, but only every other word made it past the ringing. “Kamiya…concuss…still…”

He felt numb, so he forced his gaze towards Kaoru and back. Don’t help me, help her. He hoped he could convey as much; he was too stunned to speak. He was getting very frustrated, that Takani was shaking her head and sobbing instead of focusing on who was more important.

His ears popped, and sound returned with Himura’s voice, raw with anguish. “Kaoru!”

And then, there was only darkness.

Chapter Text

Even though he had both of his arms, one was enough to cradle his baby daughter. Bright eyes stared up at his face, as he walked back and forth. It was a typical occurrence, when she cried in the middle of the night. But unlike the other times, he did not want her to sleep. He rarely saw her awake during the day.

Kaoru smiled, oblivious.

A flash of lightning, and it became a sunlit morning. Kaoru was pulling herself to her feet, not quite accustomed to doing so yet and using the table for support. She beamed as she recognized him. “Otou!”

Ah, he remembered this. “Yes, Otou is here.” His throat ached, it was the first time she’d ever called him her father. “Otou is here. Good job, Kaoru.”

Her knees buckled under her, and she fell with a sound of surprise. Her plush arms reached upwards, wanting to be held. He obliged, her little face brushing his own in a butterfly-light touch.

“Otou.” She happily repeated. “Otou, Otou!”

“Yes. It’s alright, Kaoru. You’re safe.” Safe and healthy and without worry. He kissed her forehead, and she smelled sweet.

Then, she was a young girl, her ribbon almost larger than her ponytail. She swung her shinai, performing a kata in the dojo. She finished and twirled in place, before running up to him. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did. Excellent, Kaoru.” He patted her head, and her expression broke into a happy grin, her little fingers tightening on the shinai. Pride and joy surged within him. She was growing up fast, she’d be ready to teach before he knew it. He had to add her name to the row of placards, and his vision moved to the other end, where the school’s name was displayed.

Why did he turn away?

When he looked back, he saw her blood-soaked body against the wall, her face vacant. She did not move, no matter how many times he called her name. That was how he woke, not with a scream or a jolt, but slowly, agonizingly, with tears running down his face. His daughter was dead.

Oh, gods. He retched, and only sour water came up, burning his throat. It should have been him, he’d give anything to switch places with Kaoru.

His hand rose to the bandaged side of his head, where the second dagger had grazed. And his left shoulder throbbed with fresh pain, now that he opened his eyes. Staying in his futon was tempting, but he had to check on the others. All he was aware of was that Saito had left at midnight, taking Kujiranami into formal custody. By now, the station had to know what happened.

Somehow, he managed to stumble into the hallway. Morning had never been so quiet in this house. Each step was heavy, and he didn’t hear any others. He halted at the sight of the table. There were still six cushions. He tore his gaze away, only to fix upon the altar. His mother’s portrait, and Kyoko’s somber expression. The fragrant incense.

I have to make room-

Nausea swept over him again and he barely made it outside before retching again. He spat up clear liquid, his stomach tightening. Then, he collapsed, holding onto the porch’s edge.

Kaoru was gone. All that remained was emptiness. What could possibly be done, now that the worst had happened? In this repressive heat, the funeral would have to be today. Another plot, besides Kyoko’s. And how could he possibly face her gravestone? He’d broken the final promise he swore to her, when she was dying in the hospital. He failed to protect their little girl.

There was no page Kyoko had written, for the possibility that he’d outlive Kaoru.

“Kamiya-san!” Takani’s voice was hoarse, and with some struggle, he spotted her hurrying in his direction. “I was about to check on you. How’s your head?”

“I would rather have lost it.” He bitterly answered.

She closed her eyes. “I know. I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. All I can tell you is that your wounds are clean, but that doesn’t matter right now.” She paused, bringing her trembling fingers to her lips. A choked whimper escaped her, a remnant from a recent bout of sobbing. “I’ll give you something to help you sleep-”

“Let me see my daughter.”

“…Yes. Yes, of course.” She led him to the smallest room in the house, that had been primarily used for storage. “I’ll be out here, if you need me.” Carefully, the door closed, leaving Koshijiro alone with the body.

The air was stifling. He stepped closer, ignoring the fresh tears blurring his vision.

From the door, she looked asleep, as if he could call out to her and she would turn over, grumbling for five more minutes. But she never slept with the blanket only up to her waist, and he couldn’t hear her breathe at all. Someone, most likely Takani, had let her hair down. She had already been prepared for burial, dressed in a white kimono that was wrapped right over left. A bandage had been placed on her cheek, to hide the cuts that mirrored a particular cross-shaped scar.

When he stopped at her side, he blinked and frowned. He vigorously wiped his eyes, but…something nagged him. He couldn’t quite place it. He was unsettled by his daughter’s frozen visage, yet there was more to it. Was it rigor mortis that slightly distorted her face? That didn’t make sense. Still, his gut was insisting something was off.

He touched her forehead, then her eyes to ensure they were closed. Carefully, he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and like everywhere else, the cool skin was perfectly smooth. And that was completely wrong.

This isn’t Kaoru.

The realization struck him, and with great effort, he looked closer at the body. His hand encircled her upper arm; years of kenjutsu should have given it definition and while the flesh was full, it felt strange under his grip. Not quite like muscle built over years of hard work. His fingers found the base of her ponytail next, moving the hair aside to find the natural part. That had to be a unique way to identify a person, right? He couldn’t manage it on his own, he would have to ask one of the others. But he was becoming surer and surer, that this body was a completely different person.

Then, where was his daughter?

That opened an entirely new line of thought, and it was not pleasant. He pushed it aside, heart in his throat, as he exited. Takani was blowing her nose into a handkerchief, and her red eyes met him. “Are you fin-”

“Please, wake up Yahiko.” He needed everyone right now, he wasn’t sure they were being watched.

Takani swallowed. “Alright. To say goodbye?”

“…Yes.” And this will be the first time I will lie regarding this matter.

She dropped her head, overcome by a wave of tears as she walked on. He made for the kitchen, where Sagara was loudly using his breakfast utensils. When Koshijiro entered, it was clear that despite the noise, not much of anything had been eaten. “Sagara-san, I want all of us together one last time. Can you help me find Himura-san?”

He was disintegrating a piece of tofu with his chopsticks, and his jaw clenched. “Yeah, sure. I think he’s in his room. Megumi brought him some tea, like an hour ago.” He pushed the bowl aside, grimacing.

They approached Himura’s bedroom, and Koshijiro knocked. “Himura-san?” No answer. He knocked again and pressed his ear to the door. No sounds of stirring either.

“Look, I’ll just go in.” Sagara sighed, slid the door open, and marched past the threshold. “Kenshin? Kenshin?” The futon was mussed, the tea left standing. Sagara searched the closet, growing pale and wide-eyed. “He’s not here!”

Oh, no. He ordered. “Check the rest of the house, I’ll look outside.”

“You got it. Kenshin, you bastard…”

A quick scan of the foyer. Nothing. He opened the door, the noise inaudible amidst the racket Sagara was causing. To his relief, Himura was slowly walking towards the gate, in a daze. He had not tied his hair, the bright red spilling down his back.

“Himura-san?”

The man slowly turned. He looked wrecked. His expression was slack and his gaze empty. He hadn’t changed clothes since the battle, and blood stained the front of his gi, spotting along the sleeves. His figure was frail, like the wind could sweep him away at any moment. Chains locked the sakabato in its sheath.

He was trying to disappear.

Koshijiro broke into a run, shouting. “Sagara-san, come help!” And Himura must have been too exhausted to escape, because in the next instant, Koshijiro brought them both to the ground. He rolled, taking most of the impact to shield Himura, and pain rocketed up the left half of his body. His shoulder was excruciating. But Himura wasn’t going anywhere.

“Himura-san,” He fought to catch his breath. “I apologize if I hurt you, but we will not let you go.”

There was no reaction, not even a sign of discomfort. Koshijiro kept hold of him, as the house stirred in commotion. Takani and Yahiko had definitely heard his shout.

Then, Sagara arrived, pulling Himura up and roaring. “You idiot! How could you? How could you try and leave us?”

Like a cloth doll, Himura shook with the motions.

“Don’t hurt him!” Yahiko shakily protested. Then, he noticed the chains and looked as if he’d been slapped across the face. “…Kenshin?”

Takani briskly separated Sagara and Himura. “Just stop! We’re all devastated, this isn’t the time to fight. And Kamiya-san might have reopened his shoulder wound. Ken-san, what were you doing?”

And at that moment, there was a flash of color at the ruined wall. They huddled in a protective circle around Himura, but there was no need. Dark circles were under Makimachi’s eyes and her braid was half undone, yet she summoned the energy to sprint the final stretch. And behind her, Shinomori followed, his kodachi drawn.

“We’re so sorry!” Makimachi gasped, nearly tripping over her own feet. A cloth sack was slung across her back, and she took it off, reaching inside. “Aoshi-sama and I haven’t slept for a minute at all, but we’re here! We have the book that Kaoru asked for!”

No one spoke, the irony too scathing. Shinomori stepped forward with a grimace. “We’ve been fending off constant ambushes since leaving the Aoiya, but we believed you could hold your own. What happened?”

“Where’s Kaoru?” Makimachi’s hold on the book tightened. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “She couldn’t have slept in, right?”

Takani surrendered, covering her face with her hands as she attempted to speak. “We tried but…it’s too late.”

“Everyone,” Koshijiro had to take charge. He was aware now that time was of the essence; his daughter had to be alive and she was still in the clutches of those dangerous men. Each minute, they were getting further away. “We need to go inside. To that room.”

“Not Kenshin too!” Sagara objected and Takani agreed.

“Kamiya-san, he’s fragile. Please don’t make him.”

“I will if I have to!” His voice was sharp with agitation. “Kaoru…” He trailed off, unsure of how safe it was to reveal this. Were they being watched?

“Hurting Kenshin won’t bring her back.” Yahiko spoke up, and the unevenness in his words was painful to hear.

Koshijiro slumped. “All of you, please. I won’t ask any more of you, I promise.”

For a long minute, it was utterly stagnant. Then, Shinomori nudged a pale Makimachi, and silently, the group returned to the place where the corpse rested. Makimachi swayed on her feet, and Yahiko fixed his gaze on a different corner, but they were all together. Once the door closed, Koshijiro exhaled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Now, you’re sorry?” Takani shook her head, incredulous. “Sanosuke, take Ken-san-”

“This isn’t Kaoru.”

Shocked silence filled the room. Sagara glared at him. “Old man, what the hell are you talking about?”

He took a moment to swallow and repeated. “This isn’t Kaoru. Kaoru should have a raised scar behind her ear, and it isn’t there. Here, look.” He bent back the cartilage, to confirm the lack of stitching from long ago. Takani peered closer.

“I don’t see anything, but it could have faded.”

“It wouldn’t have. She even said she could still feel it yesterday.” Yesterday, before the nightmare of selfish judgment. But perhaps…perhaps it was only a nightmare.

“I don’t understand.” Her eyes roamed over the body again, this time searching with greater intensity. “I know Kaoru, I know what she looks like. I was so sure…” She trailed off, before looking squarely at Koshijiro. “But you’re her father. You would know.”

“I had a feeling something was wrong. I wanted to check how her hair parts, I thought that would be a more decisive way to identify her.”

“But whoever did this,” Sagara bit out. “They could have found out. It’s not that hard since Jou-chan’s short, and maybe, they had a high vantage point to spy on us.”

Some life had returned to Yahiko, and he scratched his head in thought. “How long have they been spying on us? Probably weeks…”

“Aoshi-sama, what are you thinking about?” Makimachi’s voice wavered. “You look like you know something.”

“I’m not sure.” His expression was grave. “Not yet. First, who came to the dojo last night?”

The story was relayed in pieces, as they tried to converge their perspectives of Jinchuu. The only one who didn’t speak was Himura. He blankly stared at the floor, hands limp at his sides. Makimachi fidgeted and bit her lip repeatedly, full of questions but wanting to wait. Shinomori only interjected for a few clarifications and at the end, he nodded at the body.

“It does look like Kamiya Kaoru, to the smallest details. Except for one.”

“It’s a humiliating memory. But I can assure you, I haven’t shared it with anyone until now.” And Koshijiro leaned against the wall, summoning forth the bittersweet past.

He had wanted to distract Kaoru, in the wake of Kyoko’s death. Remembering how his father took him to the river after his mother’s departure, he thought it wasn’t a terrible idea. For good measure, he bought two fishing rods. He hadn’t fished at all since he was Kaoru’s age, and she never had, but…maybe, this was an opportunity for them to try together.

They headed to the river, just as the sun was clearing the horizon. The thick clouds above were pale gray, lightening with every minute. Instinctively, his daughter’s hand slipped into his. She yawned, shaking her head. It was earlier than their usual waking time, but in this subdued morning, the fish wouldn’t be scared away.

The water was gently lapping at the banks, the ground spongy under their feet. Koshijiro stopped at an open area, where it was comfortable to sit while they waited. He readied the larger of the two fishing rods and threw the line. A splash followed, sending ripples upon the surface. Was it really that simple? “I suppose that’s it. It’s been a long time since your grandfather and I went fishing.”

“Did you catch anything?”

“I don’t remember what kinds, because I fell asleep. But your grandfather caught three.”

“Maybe, we’ll have three more today.” Kaoru gave a little smile that quickly faltered. That number could no longer describe their household.

He swallowed the rising grief, passing the other fishing rod to her. “Can you copy what I did?”

“Yeah, I can do it. It’s easy.” Her arms came down in a forceful swing, the line gleaming. And crimson blurred through the air. The hook was darkly wet, as it landed in the grass. Kaoru blinked, and when she turned her head, blood trickled down her neck.

Horror struck Koshijiro, and he tore the fishing rod out of her grip. “Kaoru!” He took out his handkerchief and pressed it to her skin, but blood continued to slide over his fingers. He examined higher, lifting her hair, and found the laceration behind her ear. It was lucky that the cartilage wasn’t cut, but with the gushing blood, he couldn’t tell how deep the wound was. He pressed the cloth over it, his own heartbeat pounding.

Her bottom lip quivered. “Otou-san?”

“We’re going home.”

And then, she began to cry. “Sorry…I’m sorry, Otou-san.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who should apologize. Here, hold it tightly.” He made sure she was applying pressure before carrying her.

He ran for the house, and in no time at all, they were in the courtyard. He drew up water from the well, soaking a clean rag. Meanwhile, Kaoru was trying to rein in her sobs, curling up on the porch. She’d been hurt because he was careless. He cursed himself over and over, as he searched for bandages, the strongest sake, and the remnants of Kyoko’s medicines.

When he returned to Kaoru, the kerchief was stained brown. He gingerly pulled the fabric away, and immediately, crimson welled up. It had to be deep, if it was still bleeding. His heart sank. “Perhaps, we should go to the hospital-”

“No!” Kaoru fervently refused. She twisted away from him, her voice breaking in distress. “I don’t want to go there! Th-that’s where Okaa-san…Okaa-san!” The sentence ended in a wail, and he had to bite his own tongue.

Kyoko, what should I do? He despairingly thought. “Kaoru, let me clean it. I need to see how bad it is.”

The fight left her, but she shuddered as she laid on her side. He used the fresh rag, careful not to open the wound further, and had to pause twice to hold pressure. The bleeding slowed to an ooze, which was a relief. The wound was deeper towards the bottom, where the hook had initially entered, but no bone or broken vessels. However, the tissue was gaping, and he wasn’t confident it would heal properly.

Unless…

“Kaoru,” He slowly said. “I need to find a few more things. Wait a little longer.”

His hands shook during the search, only calming when he retrieved what he was looking for. Instructions from the past echoed in his mind. He doused everything in the sake first, to cleanse all of the items before they could touch his daughter’s skin. The dry cracks on his own hands stung too. The sun was beaming in earnest, drying the needle and black thread quickly. But the alcohol on the wound was the worst part. Kaoru placed her fist in her mouth, muffling her scream of pain. Koshijiro chanted apologies, promising it’d be over soon. The burn might have numbed her, because when he began, she didn’t flinch. Neither of them spoke. Perspiration beaded on his temples and hairline. And then, it was done.

Three tiny knots, evenly spaced as if they were sitting next to each other. He hoped that would be enough.

Exhausted from the ordeal, they spent the rest of the day at home. When he changed her bandage, he made sure the stitches were in place. A dark crust remained, but no bleeding. His mother might have approved. In the days after, he kept a close eye, telling Kaoru that it was looking better. At the end of the week, she complained that the thread itched and the knots were severed. She’d healed well, but there would always be a reminder.

“Otou-san, I don’t want to hear any more!” Kaoru finally snapped during the dressing change, after he tried to express his remorse again. “I’m all better now because of you, so I don’t care if there’s a scar. And it was an accident, Okaa-san wouldn’t be mad either.”

“I won’t feel at ease until it’s sealed over completely.”

She hugged him around the waist. “It’s fine, Otou-san. Geez. But, you know what? I’m happy you did three stitches. One for me, one for you, and one for Okaa-san. That’ll last longer than three fish.”

“…Yes, it will.”

The guilt dulled to a twinge whenever he checked behind her ear. And by the time the wound disappeared, leaving a raised pale line, he realized that he’d never purchased bait.

“Huh. That’s kind of a cute story.” Makimachi remarked. “So, this scar was only known to the two of you?”

“That’s right.”

“Then, it would have escaped Gein’s notice.” Shinomori lifted his head, his gaze glittering. “In our circles, Gein has a reputation as a puppet master. He’s frequently hired for his work with corpses. It would not be a stretch of the imagination, that Enishi hired him to disguise another body as Kaoru-san, to make you believe the worst. However, I must confirm it for myself.” He grasped the hilts of his kodachi, striding towards the still form.

Koshijiro caught on to his intention and rapidly ushered the others out of the room. None of them needed to witness the dissection. Takani gripped her forearms, her nails digging into her purple sleeves. “If Yukishiro Enishi disguised this body as hers, where could she be? How can we begin…”

“We’ll have to hunt them down and make them pay tenfold. Right, Kenshin?” Sagara glanced towards him. But Himura didn’t respond.

Makimachi flexed her hands, her bangs lowered over her eyes. “I hope Kaoru’s alive. I really hope so.”

Shinomori emerged within minutes, holding a bundle of unfamiliar rope. “This was in the body, or rather, the puppet. What should we do now?” He looked to Himura. Still no reaction from him.

The pause stretched and Koshijiro said at last. “No one else should know. As long as those men have Kaoru, her life is at risk. Until we can rescue her, everyone must believe the body is hers. Whoever this girl is, we will bury her. I don’t mind giving her a space in the family plot. However, she’ll be buried as Kamiya Kaoru. We can have a brief wake, but people can’t linger for too long. The funeral has to be today.”

“Today.” Takani echoed. “I’ll make sure she’s ready by noon.”

And then, there was the matter of funeral arrangements. Koshijiro took upon the dreaded task, trudging to the necessary people. The Buddhist priest, the cemetery workers, the coffin builders. He went to the Maekawa residence last and was greeted by the students, assisting with their teacher’s move. He hoped he looked weary as he pressed his forehead to the ground, in request for those able to carry his daughter to her final resting place. Instantaneously, chaos erupted. The students demanded details, and it was enough to wake Maekawa himself. He swore loudly, stumbling out of bed, and was utterly disheveled when he arrived at the door.

“Is this true? What do you mean, Kaoru is dead?” Behind him, Sachi hovered, stunned and mute.

“The attacks on the city…we were the next target. Kaoru is gone.” He had thought hard about what to say and decided that less was more.

Maekawa urged him to stay and talk, but Koshijiro refused. He had to return to the house; he was concerned about everyone, especially Himura. They could not take their eyes off him for a single moment. “The wake will be at the Kamiya dojo, starting at noon.” And he had to turn away, without looking back. The last thing he heard was a chorus of volunteering.

He had just turned the last corner for the dojo, and uttered a low curse. Tae and Tsubame were walking ahead, slowing as they saw the destruction. He broke into a run and was about to call out when Yahiko appeared, bracing his hands on what was left of the gate.

“Don’t come in!”

“Yahiko? What’s wrong?” Tae frowned, and then, she noticed Koshijiro. “Kamiya-san? You’re both injured. Is everyone else alright?”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak yet and only shook his head.

In apprehension, she drew a breath. “Kaoru?”

“Sekihara-san, she’s no longer with us.” The lie stung under his breastbone, more so than anticipated. This was going to be an incredibly long day.

A cry escaped her, hands lifting to her mouth. “What?!”

Tsubame’s face drained of color, and she desperately grasped Yahiko’s sleeve. “No…! Yahiko-kun, please, please tell us…”

He dropped his gaze and clenched his teeth. “Enishi got his revenge. That’s what. We failed.” In a way, he was right.

However, the girl collapsed in a dead faint. Yahiko reached for her, vigorously shaking her shoulder. “Hey, Tsubame! Oh, crap…”

Tae was openly weeping now, trying to support her. “I n-need to take her home. Or to the clinic? And Kaoru! No…”

“What’s going on?” Fortunately, Sagara appeared. “I’ll get the fox out here. Old man, can you watch Kenshin?” His expression was drawn taut; it was the most stressed he’d ever been.

“I can look after him.” After a moment’s hesitation, he told Tae. “The wake will be at noon, and we’re holding the funeral right after. Will we see you then?”

“Yes, of course. I…I’m so sorry. I can help out, let me know what to do-”

“If you can, please spread the word. That’s all we ask.” Once she nodded, he shuffled into the house with Sagara.

It was too quiet, as if the shadows of night remained. Even Sagara kept his voice down as he called the doctor to the front. Takani marched over, giving a cursory nod. “Our guests are keeping watch by the trees. Ken-san is in his room. He still hasn’t eaten. And now, Tsubame-chan…” She rubbed her eyes.

The pair left Koshijiro, and slowly, he proceeded towards Himura’s door. He knocked out of courtesy, opening anyway. His initial observation was that nothing had been cleaned at all since the frantic search. A tray of onigiri and tea was in one corner, perfectly untouched. Secondly, Himura was slumped against the wall, the chained sakabato in his arms. Takani and Sagara must have helped him change; his hair was loosely tied and he was sitting on blankets, though the pillow had fallen aside. The shadows were strongest here, an all-consuming heaviness that pulled at one’s very breath.

Koshijiro settled by the threshold, clearing his throat. “I realized where you were planning to go. It’s not the official name, but the station refers to the neighborhood as ‘Rakuninmura’. We’ve found informants there among the outcasts, and we know it as a place for those who’ve lost their way.”

Himura’s eyes moved sluggishly to him, and for the first time today, he seemed to acknowledge reality. He stared at Koshijiro. No words yet.

“But Rakuninmura is for people who have no one else. You have us, and we are worried about you.” Koshijiro couldn’t help wincing. He truly was inept at talking about emotions. “It wasn’t your fault. The ones to blame are Yukishiro Enishi and his followers. We’ll start investigating, searching for Kaoru.”

A pause, that extended to an uncomfortable awkwardness.

“In hindsight, the clues were there. The costume of human skin, Gein’s suspicious activities in the slums, the intense security around the Yokohama mansion. But we could not fathom that this was their plan. It was…unconscionable.” He trailed off.

Nothing was working. What could be done, to spur Himura into action? Sagara spoke of revenge, yet it didn’t motivate him at all. Even after the revelation that the body was a fake, why was he in the depths of despair? Koshijiro stared at Himura’s hands, clutching the hilt in a rigid paralysis, and how his knuckles jutted under dry skin.

First, he needs nourishment. Koshijiro stood and pulled the tray towards Himura. “You don’t have to talk. We can handle the funeral today and the investigation will follow afterwards. However, you must try to keep something down, even if you don’t have an appetite. That is what Kaoru taught me.”

Whether it was the plan or his daughter’s name, Koshijiro didn’t know. But as if it was scraped out of him, Himura exhaled a single question. “…why?”

Koshijiro frowned. What did he mean? “We can figure that out later, and only if you have the strength to think.” He grabbed the cup, raising it to Himura’s mouth. “I won’t force feed you, but in this heat, you need to drink.”

His arm was beginning to pinch with exertion, when the red bangs fell forward. Himura quietly sipped and Koshijiro forgot entirely about his own fatigue, until he was certain that the younger man had finished the tepid tea. With that accomplished, he ventured. “Are you hungry enough to try the onigiri?”

However, Himura tucked into himself, bringing the sakabato closer. Koshijiro was at a loss, other than to keep silent company and wait for the others to come home. After some minutes, he noticed that Himura’s breathing had slowed, into a state of deep sleep. Koshijiro found the nearest blanket on the floor, draping it over him before pressing his back to the wall.

Footsteps approached, and Makimachi peered in. “Hello? Just checking in. Any updates?”

Koshijiro nodded at the tray. “He drank all of his tea, but he isn’t eating yet.”

“That’s great though!” She looked curiously at Koshijiro. “What did you say to him?”

“I was mostly speaking to myself.”

She raised her eyebrows, but before she could question further, an unfamiliar voice called out. The coffin had arrived. Makimachi took over in Koshijiro’s stead, so he could request a few minutes in the room. Perfectly understandable, and he was granted a parent’s right to one final goodbye.

He knelt, clasping the dead girl’s cold hand before murmuring. “I don’t know who you were, but you must have had a family. Today, I’ll act in their place and properly send you off, so that you can pass on peacefully. Forgive us for the deception we’re about to carry out, and for the harm we’ve already done. May your soul find comfort, in that you will protect another. When this is over, you will have your own gravestone.” It was the last kindness she could receive, and the very least they could do.

When he emerged, everyone was together again. Yahiko looked to Koshijiro. “Tsubame will be alright, she’s going to rest before the…the wake. I’m Kaoru’s first student, so what do you need me to do?”

“Since she was your teacher, you’ll lead the procession with me.”

“Oh. Okay.” He hadn’t expected that and hesitated, but only for a moment. More firmly, he repeated. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“And we’ll watch from the sidelines!” Makimachi said. “Aoshi-sama and I are going to maintain surveillance the whole time, to see if Gein or anyone else shady appears. Like those four identical guys we escaped from on the road, or the Chinese laborers who were total distractions once we got to Tokyo or-”

“Misao and I will also protect the corpse, if we are called.” Shinomori intoned.

Of course, Himura was in no shape to attend, but he couldn’t stay in the house alone. Sagara volunteered to stay behind with him. “He’s not going to leave again.” The young man declared. “I’ll make sure of it. Besides, I’d be no good at the funeral. I’m too angry to be a mourner.”

“But I can play the part. I’ve cried plenty already.” Takani let out a hoarse sound, too bitter for a laugh. “So…it’s time.”

The Oniwabanshuu melted into the foliage, while Koshijiro led Yahiko and Takani to the temple. He had not been there since his departure for Satsuma, to pray for Kaoru’s safety in his absence. And now, the reality of failure caused his left shoulder to ache anew.

Oh. He almost tripped on the steps and outwardly blamed it on the flaring pain, but his mind was working incessantly, lit by a new flame.

The temple was quickly crowded. Koshijiro had to resort to a standard greeting for each person who passed through. Tae and Tsubame returned with the other girls from the Akabeko in tow, and they all wept profusely. Maekawa brought his wife and students, and word had spread to the other dojos, because Ishii barged in, squeezing Koshijiro into a comforting bear-like embrace. Many kenjutsu students expressed their grief, with blotchy faces and cracking voices. The neighborhood children, the townswomen who were permanent fixtures in the market, and even the carpenter came to pay respects. So many people, who loved Kaoru.

He really felt bad at hiding the truth.

“Kaoru-nee!” His heart sank at the familiar voices of Dr. Gensai’s granddaughters, and throat tight, he braced himself. Ayame and Suzume were screaming, wriggling out of their parents’ arms to rush to the coffin. The chrysanthemums in their hands were already wilting. “Kaoru-nee, wake up!”

He dragged his feet over, and somehow, he managed to ask. “Are those flowers for her?”

They only nodded, rubbing away tears as they offered the little bouquets. Yellow petals fluttered onto the stone tiles.

“Thank you. I’m sure she’ll love to have them with her.” And he meant it.

“I couldn’t believe what Takani-san told me.” Dr. Gensai was relying on his cane for support, looking as if he hadn’t slept at all. “It’s unimaginable…” His son and daughter-in-law murmured their condolences, glancing at their daughters in pained sympathy.

Then, Yahiko grabbed Koshijiro’s sleeve. “Saito’s here.”

A gap appeared in the mob of people, making way for the assistant chief. The stench of tobacco was thick, chokingly so when Saito approached. His gaze rested upon the corpse’s face for a second before landing on Koshijiro. “We’re interrogating the one we have. There’s nothing for you to do at the station. When we extract information, you’ll be made aware.”

“Mm.” In what he hoped was a natural gesture, he shook Saito’s hand, pressing a folded note to his palm. He had written the message earlier, that they knew the body was not Kaoru’s and they didn’t know who was watching. The transfer was only acknowledged with an intensified stare, and Saito shoved both hands in his pockets.

“My wife wants to stop by and assist.”

“Later, in the afternoon. We would appreciate it.”

“Battousai isn’t here?”

“He is still recovering.” At least, that was honest. “Please, don’t disturb him.”

“I don’t have the time. I’m returning to the station.” He pivoted, frowning. “Yukishiro Enishi will be dealt with immediately.”

And Koshijiro had to deal with the consolatory offerings. The chrysanthemums were just the beginning; more flowers adorned the sides of the coffin. Roses, jasmine, sunflowers. Others had brought confections or the last of the ripe summer fruits and vegetables, which he did his best to refuse. The cash was the worst, and he had to turn aside, feeling nauseated. Takani intervened with a firm tone. “Kaoru would not want money. She’d tell you to keep it for yourselves and live well.”

Chief Uramura was among the last to arrive, bringing his family. His daughter in particular was very pale and Koshijiro caught a muffled apology when she bowed to the coffin. The chief helplessly repeated. “If we’d arrested the culprit, this wouldn’t have happened.”

The gong resounded, to hush everyone. The temple priest bore a placid expression, as he stepped forward. The sermon echoed against the walls, asking for forgiveness of sin and reincarnation into a better life. Then, the coffin lid cast shadow over Kaoru’s likeness and was sealed shut. Someone young, perhaps Tsubame, sobbed.

Four young men lifted the box, and Koshijiro was first to follow them out of the temple. Yahiko strode beside him, and his role was to carry the plaque for a posthumous name, to prevent calling the deceased back. Well, such a name hadn’t stuck with Koshijiro and it certainly wouldn’t with Kaoru, but for this girl, they would call her Reijo until proven otherwise.

For the entire walk, a chorus of grief rose on the wind. Wailing, stricken laments, and lines of prayers became an indistinguishable tide of noise. This was the sound of mourning, for a cherished life cut too short. If she could witness how many tears were shed, she’d cry too.

When they arrived at the Kamiya family plot, the ground had already been dug in preparation. The coffin was gently lowered into the pit and Koshijiro remained stoic. Was the enemy seeing this? Were they aware of how much admiration and respect she’d earned? Did they enjoy the suffering they caused? He tossed an overflowing handful of earth onto the lid, and the shovels began to move. Gradually, the wooden box was completely obscured.

Kamiya Kaoru was buried.

They weren’t home again for another two hours; they had to be the last ones to leave the grave. Shinomori and Makimachi had taken point by the stone walls, affirming that they hadn’t noticed anyone out of place. And there was one more person waiting.

Saito had the courtesy to smoke outside the house. “You just missed Tokio, but she already made use of your kitchen.” He tapped the ash off his cigarette. “The police are dedicating all resources towards tracking Yukishiro Enishi.”

It was an obvious statement but Koshijiro understood. With regards to Kaoru, there would be no extra aid. “Is it the low manpower? If so, I can-”

“You should take your absence from work. An emotional father would only be a hindrance.”

“Hey!” Yahiko sharply protested. “We came back from the funeral, and Kamiya-san still offered anyway. And what are we? We can help.”

“No. I’ve already had to train one man, and even he couldn’t escape injury.”

Koshijiro could have kicked himself for forgetting. “Sawagejo-san was hurt?”

“I received the telegram this morning. The mansion’s entrance was rigged with explosives. The others had mild wounds, though he took the brunt of the blast. He’s awake, though he’ll remain in the hospital for another week. But he was successful. The basement was intact and we ransacked everything. Plenty of evidence like that costume and the tools used to make them. Their time must have run out, because our culprits didn’t clean up.”

How revolting. “So, you knew at the temple.”

Saito shrugged. “You’d figured it out as well.” Again, he was being obtuse. “Now that we’re on the same page, I can continue my work.”

“And your work doesn’t involve finding anyone other than Yukishiro?” Takani purposefully asked.

“My job is to slay evil.” He walked past Koshijiro and in a mutter, he added. “Yours is to protect life. Isn’t that right, creator of Kamiya Kasshin?”

“Yes, it is. Send Sawagejo-san my thanks and that I hope he recovers soon.”

Tokio’s cooking granted them a late lunch, and they ate hurriedly, without any conversation. Yahiko volunteered to watch Himura, which relieved Sagara. The latter made a great deal of noise as he left, brimming with pent-up energy. He didn’t relay where he was going.

Koshijiro took his tea on the porch, unable to taste it. He maintained a vigilant eye on the treeline for unnatural movement or sound. Then, someone settled at the other end, the floorboards creaking.

Shinomori had brought his own cup, and the steam curled under his face. Suddenly, he spoke first. “Gein has pride in his craft, in the way an artisan does.” At Koshijiro’s glance, he clarified. “There is no one nearby. As I was saying, Gein is obsessed with his corpses. This…Reijo, as you’ve named her, was nearly perfect. He wouldn’t want it to decompose.”

“Then, are you suggesting to watch over the grave?”

“Yes, and to lay a trap. If you are willing, I will inform Misao.”

“If it doesn’t damage the plots of my parents and wife, I have no issue.”

He nodded. “…Himura will not see the grave.”

“It is doubtful, considering how stressed he is. His current state is nothing like we’ve seen before.” Koshijiro quietly said.

“I’m surprised he didn’t revert to the persona of the Battousai. I thought he would, and after bringing Kaoru-san back, he would return to wandering.”

“Himura-san’s inner struggle is slightly different than what you are thinking. And I believe you were thinking of how you would have reacted.”

Shinomori actually cracked a smile. A small one, but still a smile. “Fair enough.”

“You seem to have recovered even more, since we last left you.”

“Have I?” He paused, reflecting. “Misao has been...persistent. That part of her hasn’t changed at all.”

With the tea finished, they went searching for her. She was in the main hallway, staring at the displayed paintings with a degree of curiosity. Hearing their footsteps, she tilted her head in their direction. “Hey, welcome back.”

Shinomori dropped to one knee, his head bowed. “Okashira.”

“Eh? What? Me?” Makimachi rapidly looked around, then pointed to herself. She blushed. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m requesting to lay a trap at the grave of Kamiya Kaoru. Most likely, Gein will retrieve the body after nightfall. If we catch him, we can obtain information and end his crimes forever.”

“Permission granted.” She didn’t hesitate. “As long as you do one more thing. Come back, or I’ll chase you down.”

“Understood.” As Shinomori stood again, Koshijiro thought he saw another slight smile on his face, but in the next instant, his expression was stoic once more.

It was good that Shinomori left before a wave of visitors arrived. Everyone meant well, bringing their condolences and more food than they could possibly eat for dinner. The gate was repaired in the shortest amount of time possible, thanks to the sheer number of helping hands. But the sky was a dark violet, the close of twilight, when the last person waved goodbye.

And Koshijiro caught the sound of footsteps in the dojo. Through the broken doors, he peered inside. It was scrubbed clean, he realized, free of blood. Yahiko halted mid-swing, then straightened to attention with the shinai futilely hidden behind his back. Perspiration glittered on his temples and cheeks.

“Kamiya-san! Um, I cleaned up in here.”

“I can see that. Thank you.” He removed his shoes and stepped inside. To his relief, it felt natural as always, not tainted by the attack. “Were you practicing?”

He slowly replied. “I have to.”

“Kaoru would be proud of you. You’ve come a long way from your first days with us, you’re immensely more diligent and responsible.”

“Well, in those days, I didn’t want to be a student of Kamiya Kasshin.” Yahiko was mortified. “And I’m sorry for what I said. But ever since I met Kenshin, I wanted to be strong like him. And now…” He really did idolize Himura, and his posture slackened.

“He’s very troubled at the moment.”

“Yeah. It’s hard to watch him. Before I left his room, I said I’d practice.” His gaze lifted, burning with determination. “I promised I’d learn from Kaoru, and even if she’s not here, I’m still the only student of the Kamiya dojo. I won’t get discouraged. I’ll keep moving forward, with the sword that protects. Protecting people is why Kenshin is strong. When he’s better and we rescue Kaoru, I’ll be ready.”

It was an ambitious and innocent goal. Completely fitting. Koshijiro placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your words have reassured me.”

“Huh?”

“When I came home from Satsuma, Kaoru was alone. All of the other students had abandoned the school. But even if you didn’t join out of interest, you’ve grown to accept the ideals. You’ve stayed and learned and excelled.” Koshijiro locked eyes with him. “And you are the future of Kamiya Kasshin.”

Yahiko didn’t shy away. He seemed to rise at the affirmation. Someday, he’d lead a full class of his own, and Koshijiro hoped to see it. “Then, I’ll do my best.”

“Good. But it’s getting late and we’ll eat soon. You can start again at your usual time tomorrow.”

“Aw, fine.”

After months of lively company, it was actually strange, to have only four people at the dinner table. Sagara had returned late, reeking of sake and barely reacting to the updates they provided. The ordeal of waiting was taking its toll. And when Makimachi switched in for Takani to monitor Himura, Koshijiro glimpsed his silhouette, exactly in the same place as before.

The first time Koshijiro woke in the middle of the night, it was to the noise of a door closing. The likely explanation was that someone was using the outhouse. But given the events they’d endured, Koshijiro couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to check. Intuition carried his feet to the front door, which audibly creaked as he gazed out.

In a familiar picture, Sagara was crouched in the yard, under the moonlight. However, he was in the midst of tying a cloth sack, and a bundled bedroll was resting on his shoulder. He startled. “Guess you caught me, old man.” A forced laugh escaped him.

“I believe so. Would you like to share what you’re doing?”

His knees jittered, and at last, he said. “I can’t stay. I hate waiting for the trap to spring, waiting for new intel, waiting around and doing nothing! I’m not that patient, I’ve always known when to cool my head and this is it.”

“Sagara-san…”

“And there’s something else.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Looking at everyone else and you, well, I remembered my family. They probably don’t care, but I just…I can’t stop thinking about them. How they’d react if they believed I was dead, if they’d act like any of us right now, stupid shit like that.”

“It isn’t stupid at all. Do you want to visit them?” Koshijiro asked, and Sagara immediately snapped his head up.

“Look, I don’t know. Maybe, it’s too late. It’s been ten years.”

“If they truly care about you, time will not matter. I think it’d be valuable to make your peace with them. And if they still reject you, we’ll be here.”

Sagara’s mouth twisted, not quite a grimace or a smile. “Thanks. I think if I say goodbye to the others, they’ll pin me down and throw me in with Kenshin.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell them.”

“Thanks, old man.” He managed a small smile of gratitude. Then, he brushed himself off and wryly gave a two-fingered salute. “I’ll be back when I can pull myself together. See ya.”

“Safe travels.”

And the fighter walked unflinchingly into the darkness. He’d clear his head and if he found closure with his family, he’d reunite with them as a freer man. Koshijiro was sure of it.

The second time his sleep was interrupted, it was the coldest hour before dawn. A low vibration underneath, and he thought: earthquake. He immediately rolled out of his futon, his hand pressed to the chilled floor, but the sensation was gone. There wasn’t another, as he waited until his fingertips were numb. Not an earthquake then, so what was it?

He made his way outside, searching for any disruptions. The horizon glowed a pale orange, yet the sky had not changed otherwise. The faint smell of smoke reached him. That fire was…in the direction of the cemetery.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” The murmur was too close and he looked to his side. Makimachi yawned. “It’s not a tremor, right? Oh, whoa!” She shook off the drowsiness and gasped.

“I’m going to the cemetery. Could you wake the others?” During his question, the bells were ringing in the distance.

“Y-yes. And I’ll join you after! Aoshi-sama.” The last was whispered, as she backtracked and hurried through the halls.

Koshijiro threw on a spare haori, and headed for the blaze. As he ran closer, it became apparent that the flames were concentrated in the woods behind the cemetery. The fire brigade had extinguished most of it already, leaving ash and embers. A number of trees were felled; amidst the scorch marks, deeper slashes cut across bark. Signs of a struggle.

The firefighters exclaimed. A burned corpse had been found. Koshijiro approached with trepidation, but the remains were obviously an old man’s. There wasn’t much left to discern, other than a wrinkled visage, jaws gaping in agony.

“Shinomori-san!” Koshijiro called out. “Where are you?”

Rustling drew his attention. A tree trunk shifted, and a shadow emerged from the ground. Shinomori had a minor wound on his cheekbone, soot smearing his clothing. But he was alive. Koshijiro offered his hand, helping him up.

“So, it was you after all.” A familiar voice drawled. The police had arrived to investigate and Saito surveyed the destroyed forest. “We found Gein’s mask. How ironic, for him to end up as scarcely more than the skull.”

Shinomori coughed. “Gein said their group had a hideout on the west bank of the Arakawa. In the lowest level of the Heishin Products Company building. We should go.”

“Agreed.” Saito nodded. “That’s for the police to handle.”

Something clicked in Koshijiro’s memory. “Arakawa? That was a place on the supply route from the map Sawagejo-san retrieved. No, not completely a supply route. An escape route. There were other locations. What if-”

Saito interjected. “I understand you’re eager to pursue your daughter’s murderer, Kamiya. But you’re still on leave.”

Koshijiro clenched his teeth. It was frustrating, but Gein wasn’t the only lackey. “Then, I expect to be updated on what you find in the hideout. And thank you for uncovering that information, Shinomori-san. Was the explosion your trap?”

“No. That was due to Gein’s explosive materials. I set them off though, I was willing to take him down.”

“…Then, you-”

“I didn’t swear a pacifist vow like Himura. I have a duty to fulfill, but I have no interest in dying. I dug pits like this one, for if I had to take cover. It wasn’t a difficult choice.” His dark eyes were resolute. “Besides, there are people waiting for me to return.”

As if on cue, Makimachi’s entrance was flawlessly timed. “Aoshi-sama!” She slid down an ashy slope, almost losing her balance. She ducked under Shinomori’s free arm, supporting him. “Are you okay? Kamiya-san and I thought it was an earthquake, then we saw the fire, and I was so worried! Come on, let’s have Megumi look at you.” She led him away, fussing over his injuries.

Koshijiro glanced at Saito, who waved dismissively. “I can tell what you’re thinking. Yes, the route was blocked but for supply ships. A smaller fishing vessel may have escaped notice, although that narrows the range of locations. Regardless, we don’t have the manpower or equipment if we sailed today.”

“What if I could ask for aid?”

“From who? The navy?”

“I have a friend who is a naval secretary. He could pull some strings.”

Saito had been sarcastic but he blinked at Koshijiro’s casual admission. He recovered, clearing his throat. “In that case, go ahead.”

Koshijiro bowed his head, before taking the detour into town. He sent a quick telegram to Hayashi, requesting for anyone available on short notice. Without a destination, the objective was hard to explain at the moment, but the communication was initiated. Then, he returned home.

The aromas of grilling fish and steaming rice were filling the air. Takani was preparing breakfast and upon seeing Koshijiro, she said. “Shinomori-san’s fine. He’s sitting with Ken-san now. I told Misao to wake up Yahiko, while the rooster-head’s already disappeared somewhere.”

“Ah. About that…”

Her expression contorted upon hearing the story. “I see. Well, I hope he finds what he’s looking for.” But her tone lacked its usual incisiveness. “Honestly, with how close he is to Ken-san, I don’t hold it against him. It really is difficult.”

Makimachi shuffled in, with a full bucket of well water. “Yahiko’s washing his face. He wants to start practice too, Kamiya-san.” She rummaged about, asking where the tea leaves were. While waiting for the water to boil, she counted off her fingers. “In summary, Inui, Otowa, and Yatsume are in jail. Kujiranami is in custody. And with Gein dead…”

“How do you feel about that, Kamiya-san?” Takani stared at him.

“Shinomori-san obtained our next lead, and I am very grateful.”

“Well, that’s not what I was asking. Even if it was the enemy, a life was still taken.”

He inhaled, counted to three. Slowly, he let the breath out. “I don’t have any excuses. It is regrettable, but time cannot be rewound. If Gein had been arrested, he could have informed us on who else could have been his victims, if only to give their families closure. Although, I’m not sure if he would have remained in prison long enough to be punished.”

Makimachi nodded. “True, true. He would’ve either escaped or been an easy target.”

“But I can’t forgive the men who used my daughter as a sacrifice for revenge. And if they have harmed her in any way…” The possibilities were ugly and terrible. His stomach lurched, his mind resisting further rumination. “I am scared for her.”

“So am I.” Takani had set down her cooking utensils. Her hands wrapped around herself, her gaze darkening. “We need to act fast.”

“We can do it.” Makimachi opted for a brave front. “It’s been two days, but we’ve come this far already.”

“And there’s still so much left.” She dourly replied.

Koshijiro felt like he had to write a list, but there was one thing that nobody had managed to crack yet: Himura’s condition. Inwardly, Koshijiro hesitated. It had to be a careful approach, and it certainly wasn’t natural to him. However, he had to overcome the worry. Walking to the altar, he faced Kyoko’s picture. If it was any other scenario, he’d ask for her guidance. Not this time. She had to watch over their girl.

Kaoru’s survival was a relief, but what was happening to her now? Was she wounded? Did she know they were desperately searching for her? How was she coping?

Stay strong, Kaoru. He fervently thought, hoping somehow, his wish would be carried to his daughter. We’re going to bring you home!

Chapter Text

“Hadome!” The outcry was stopped short, as Yahiko buckled under the offensive strike, forced to retreat. “Tch, damn!”

“Language.” Koshijiro gently admonished. He pressed the shinai further, glancing across the boy’s shoulder. “This attempt was better, but what went wrong this time?”

“I didn’t have enough support for my hands. It’s my core, isn’t it?”

“Yes, correct. You can increase your exercises by twenty repetitions.”

“Fifty more!” He was certainly ambitious.

“As long as you don’t injure yourself.”

“Fine. I’m still not there yet.”

“But in just one hour, your reaction time has cut in half. Keep practicing after you come back.” The boy had offered to help Tae and Tsubame, with purchasing supplies. From what he said, Tae had turned to work, setting up in a temporary location while paying for the Akabeko’s rebuilding.

They tidied up the dojo, before sitting outside to cool off. Yahiko gulped his barley tea, and in that quiet moment, he spoke unprompted. “I get it now.”

“Hm?”

“Well…I’ve been taught by Kaoru, then Kenshin, and now you. And I get the differences.” He seemed slightly embarrassed but explained. “You ask me what I want to accomplish first, and if I need to do something else instead. During practice, you ask me where the issue is, and once I figure it out, we fix it. Kaoru does that too, she leads me to the goal and she encourages me a lot. Kenshin is the quietest, but he always gets to the point and it feels rewarding when he approves. Everyone teaches differently.”

“That’s right, and you’ll find your own way of instruction, when the time comes. Emulate what you admire, and don’t be afraid to adjust your methods. Teaching is a matter of approach.”

“And it depends on the student too.”

“Indeed. You have to know what works for the student and what doesn’t.”

“So, could you tell what works for me?”

Koshijiro paused, considering. “Your judgment already surpasses older boys, because you’ve seen battles of high intensity and caliber. With such a quick grasp, you understand how to improve, and I’m glad Kaoru’s given you the opportunity to reflect and analyze. You’ve spent a relatively short time in the dojo, so you respond well to clear instructions. And of course, well-deserved praise. I think it is the right balance.”

Yahiko smiled. “Was that how you taught Kaoru?”

“I would say so. She appreciated the history of kenjutsu, and I would weave it into teaching points. Kaoru has an excellent intuition and unlike most, she could give it the right words. Even when she was a little girl, she would tell me what she wanted to focus on in practice.” He thought of her smaller form, cheeks puffed out as she declared her newest aspiration. The memory was sweet, ruined by the present anxiety, a dark cloud on the horizon.

The conversation had to end there, given the time. However, Yahiko stalled at the gate. “Kamiya-san? Is there anything else I can do here?”

“No, it’s alright. You can go into town. Takani-san must have finished her examination, and I’ll take over in her stead.”

“Misao and Aoshi are still out, huh? How long does it take to plan a boat trip anyway?”

Actually, Makimachi had confided that they were going to train. She was looking particularly enthusiastic, while Shinomori was stoic as ever. “They’re doing a thorough job, and we’ll trust in them. I’ll see you later, Yahiko.” With one last wave to each other, Koshijiro closed the gate.

He went to Himura’s door, and Takani quickly emerged. The dark circles under her eyes were fainter, but she was still taut as a bowstring. “I’m running late!” The number of clinic patients had increased, not just from the attacks, but also the change in weather.

“Dr. Gensai will understand.”

“I’ve always been punctual, it’ll hurt my pride otherwise. Now, there’s tea and broth that can be reheated for Ken-san if he feels like drinking again. It’ll sustain him but if he doesn’t eat, I’ll have to resort to drastic measures.” She frowned.

“As always, thank you for your hard work.”

“I’ll be back in the afternoon.” With that brisk promise, she was off.

And Koshijiro entered Himura’s room.

His position had not changed: sitting against the wall, the chained reverse blade clutched tightly in his hands. Koshijiro sat across from him, watching for any movement. Again, his eyes were resigned and lifeless.

Koshijiro cleared his throat. “The weather is nice today. If you don’t mind, I’ll open the window.” The fresh air swept in, and he realized how stagnant it had been in this room. But if he was going to talk to Himura, they could not be in darkness.

He glanced at the other man, who had turned his face away from the sunshine pouring in. The abundance of red hair had fallen like a curtain.

“I will close it afterwards, but if you are cold, please let me know.” He didn’t expect a response, but then, a single word floated up.

“Why?”

“You asked me that last time, but I’m not sure how to answer. Are you able to tell me more?” Koshijiro kept his voice low, neutral, without judgment.

An exhale. “Why are you not angry with this one?”

“Angry?” He was genuinely surprised. “No, Himura-san, not at all. You fought hard to protect Kaoru.”

“Not enough. This one couldn’t.” Himura retreated further, curling into a ball.

Koshijiro remained quiet for a few moments before continuing. “And you are lost within yourself.”

Chain links rattled and the red curtain shifted. Himura was looking right at him, in startled affirmation.

He pressed on. “You are a swordsman, defined by your abilities and successes. That was unfortunately amplified by the war; your superiors in the Ishin Shishi were enraptured by your skills, at the cost of overlooking the man behind them. But I’m not going to analyze the fight. I am here to find you.”

Himura took a shaky breath, blinking against the light. “As Hitokiri Battousai, this one committed countless murders. This one has tried to atone, and it is not enough. Whatever is left of this one is unworthy.”

“That is not true.” Koshijiro severely said, but Himura’s gaze had already drifted into vacancy. His sense of shame ran deep, entangled in his spirit. In this precarious state, it was too dangerous to push him.

It was excruciatingly silent until Makimachi and Shinomori returned. He let them take over, while he headed into town. He initially intended to speak to Saito, but he was informed by the front that the man was caught in administrative meetings for the day, saddled with acting chief inspector responsibilities.

He walked towards the office, expecting a mountain of paperwork on his desk. However, when he entered the room, his space was free of clutter. Instead, the rookies were barely visible under a heavier than usual workload. Shinichi spotted him first, dropping his pen as he hastily stood. The others followed suit, greeting in a staggered chorus.

“Officer Kamiya!”

“Hello, everyone.”

“You’re not back yet, are you?”

“It’s too soon!”

He hesitated. “I was…running an errand. What have you been assigned?” He approached the nearest desk and read his name on the first stack. “These are mine?”

“We asked for them!”

“You don’t have to worry at all, alright?”

“Take it easy, Officer Kamiya!”

Their kindness touched him. “Thank you. I hope not to inconvenience you for much longer.” When this was over, he would have to treat them heartily.

And at the last minute, he decided to carry out another task. Gritting his teeth, Koshijiro began writing on a fresh sheet of paper. He certainly was not begging Hiko, and he doubted he’d even receive an answer. It was only a brief message that Himura was injured, which was the truth. But after the envelope slipped into the mailbox, he felt a twinge of uncertainty.

Most likely, the letter will not be read in time.

That evening, Himura did finish a bowl of broth, which was a small victory. Despite his anguish, he wasn’t actively giving up. They held onto that knowledge, as they reviewed the plan just outside his room. Takani was already prepared, her stock of medical supplies fully replenished. Meanwhile, Shinomori and Makimachi provided their updates.

From her pocket, the Oniwaban leader brought out a list with a flourish. “Here we go! This is the remainder of our inventory, including fuel and food rations. Everything’s been tucked away in the Heishin Products Company basement.”

“Wasn’t it there to begin with?” Yahiko pointed out.

“Well, the police confiscated most of the goods but we deserve some compensation, right? And I’m still waiting for my new kunai, Jiiya’s sending them from Kyoto. They’re a different alloy, so they’ll pierce better…” She trailed off. “Oh, sorry! Basically, we’re covered as soon as we have a destination!”

Shinomori shook his head. “And we have not determined that yet.”

It was to be expected, it had only been a day since they obtained their lead. But Koshijiro was impatient. He let out a breath. “Then, I will have to ask the assistant chief inspector.”

The timing couldn’t have been better, because there was a call from outside. “It’s Saito. Open up.”

Takani volunteered, though she returned with an additional guest in tow. She seemed much more at ease around the presence of Tokio. “Thank you for the mochi, we’ll enjoy them. There’s leftover tea for both of you.”

“It’s kind of you to offer, but we won’t be long.” Tokio answered, as Saito grunted and took a seat in their circle. His gaze flickered to the closed door but he didn’t acknowledge it otherwise.

“I’ll make this quick. First, we’ve narrowed our search to the southern waters. There are a few small islands, mainly uninhabited, that look promising. We will continue to gather intel.”

“Let us help you.” Shinomori uttered, and Makimachi jumped in as well.

“Please! Espionage and subterfuge are our specialties.”

“Give us the morning, to tie up any loose ends. Then, you can offer your services.” He bluntly said, turning once more to Koshijiro. “Meanwhile, your naval friend is assembling his own team, and they will arrive at the end of the week, with two armed ships. Congratulations, Kamiya.” Despite the monotonous delivery, the news was welcome.

“Hayashi is a good friend, and I look forward to seeing him.”

Saito curtly nodded. “Second, Tokio can watch your home while you’re gone.”

“Thank you.” Koshijiro said, surprised.

“It’s no trouble.” Tokio gave a gracious smile. “In fact, it’s the least I can do. The boys will have to come with me, but we won’t leave any trace that we were here.”

“And lastly,” The third matter had to be unpleasant, because Saito spat the words. “I had to negotiate terms with Shanghai. They will increase security and naval patrols…but if Yukishiro turns up at their port or is found on Chinese land, they’ll keep him and turn over all other non-Chinese companions to us. If he’s arrested in Japan, they can pursue extradition after we try him in our court.”

It sounded perfectly acceptable to Koshijiro, though Saito appeared livid at the possibility that Yukishiro could be swiped away from the end of his katana. Well, he wouldn’t protest; it would be motivating. “So, we’ll devote everything we have to their location.”

“With absolute swiftness.” The assistant chief inspector declared, and he led his wife to the front door. “When I give notice, all of you have to be prepared to fight.”

The emphasis wasn’t lost on them, nor the final glance to the unseen Himura.

Yahiko straightened up. “We will. For sure.”

They turned in for the night, and Koshijiro stared at his ceiling in deep thought. Today’s attempt had not been successful, and there was no room for further missteps. Tomorrow, the discussion would have to lay everything bare. His thoughts folded and refolded, as he considered Himura. Not the assassin, not the wanderer. The man himself.

Just before falling asleep, he knew. In order to learn, there first had to be a solid foundation. And Koshijiro was a teacher.

At dawn, he woke on his own and he felt tranquility settle over him like an outer robe. Not wanting to wake anyone else, he quietly made his way to Himura’s room. Shinomori was sitting just inside, head lowered, though he did start when Koshijiro loomed over him. Then, he nodded towards the sleeping form of Himura, back still against the wall. After a moment, he wordlessly left, leaving the two of them alone. Koshijiro drew closer, taking the position directly across Himura.

He sat in meditation, for close to an hour, before Himura finally stirred. His shoulders lifted a fraction, and through his bangs, his eyes slowly opened.

“Good morning.” Koshijiro greeted. “Would you like tea? I can make some.”

A verbal response never came, though in a very slight motion, he shook his head.

“That’s alright. Let me know if you change your mind. It’s a new day.” He stood and opened the window, allowing crisp air to flow in. “And so, we will start over.”

“…how?” Ah, so his interest was piqued.

Koshijiro steeled himself; this was the point of no return, he would have to choose every word carefully. “Himura-san, until now, you’ve been motivated by guilt and shame. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t feel a sense of remorse, but in excess, it consumes you. I know.” He said, his voice raw. “I understand. So, believe me when I say that it cannot be everything you feel. You’ve stayed with us for months. Was it only because of guilt?”

“No!” Himura vehemently answered. It was the strongest response he had since Kaoru was kidnapped. A good sign.

“Then, what have you felt? You can start from the beginning, when you first met Kaoru.”

For a long while, Himura did not speak. And then, he haltingly said. “It was...the end of winter. This one wandered to Tokyo. A chilly evening. In the darkness, this one heard a voice. Kaoru-dono, calling the name of Battousai. A coincidence, she did not know at the time. She was defending Kamiya Kasshin’s reputation. It was the Hiruma brothers, and you know that part of the story, Kamiya-dono.”

“Yes, I do.”

“This one...was very grateful to Kaoru-dono. And touched by her words, her devotion to Kamiya Kasshin and the ideal of a world where swords were not used to kill. This one thought it wouldn’t be bad, to stay for a while. To watch her regain students, to build that better world. And you returned the following week.”

“I apologize again for trying to punch you.”

Himura didn’t smile or laugh, but there was a flicker of light in his gaze, a spark amidst the emptiness. “It was this one’s fault too, for not being clear. Still, this one felt...comfortable. Useful, to cook meals and do laundry and clean the house. Kaoru-dono was always kind, talking about the day and the townsfolk. Who to buy groceries from, who was friendly. And with you, she was much happier. This one can tell you are close.” He paused. “Then, we met Yahiko.”

“That’s right. I understand that you convinced him to learn Kamiya Kasshin. I admit, I wasn’t so sure of him at first. But he’s become more mature and disciplined, a good student. What did you see in him? How did you meet?”

“He stole this one’s wallet. But…this one knew right away, he had the potential of a swordsman. This one went to help him from the yakuza, so he could become a student of the Kamiya dojo. And he has become much stronger, in body and spirit.”

“He has and I’m glad you brought him here. He is vastly different from the wayward pickpocket, and his future is brighter, now that he understands the weight and responsibility of the sword that protects.” Koshijiro then prompted. “He wasn’t the only young man who’s changed.”

“Sanosuke. His first wish was to fight this one, as a representative of the Sekihoutai. Since that day, his boldness has not wavered at all. But instead of thirst for battle, he raises his fists for the group. He is a loyal friend.”

Hopefully, Sagara was faring well. Was he out of trouble at least? Had he reunited with his family? “Yes, he certainly is. Impatient, perhaps, but in the hour of need, he will never abandon the ones he cares for.” He had just finished the sentence, when the door suddenly opened.

Takani’s eyes were round with astonishment at the two of them, the tray in her hands shaking slightly. “I heard voices and I thought…never mind, both of you can keep going. It’s obvious you’re not finished yet. But you have to eat something! Raid the kitchen if you don’t want mochi and tea, the house is all yours for today.” Immediately, she set down the breakfast and as she hurried out, she looked to Koshijiro. Her gaze was misty in gratitude, and she mouthed a thank you. She closed the door with a rattle, and faintly, Koshijiro thought he heard Makimachi’s questioning voice and Takani’s brisk response, before silence returned again.

“That was surprisingly good timing.” He poured the tea and slid a cup to Himura. “She must be headed for the clinic. Takani-san is becoming an excellent doctor; Dr. Gensai never fails to tell me how much she’s progressed.”

“It is her way to atone.” Himura softly said. “To use her skills to heal others instead of leading them to the grave.”

Koshijiro sensed they were treading too close to the dark precipice again and he hastily moved on. “It wasn’t long after that, the Maekawa dojo incident occurred. I remember you offered to accept the challenge instead, and how you defeated Raijuuta for Yutaro’s sake.”

“It was all this one could do.” He deflected, but his eyes met Koshijiro’s. “Kaoru-dono has embraced the role of head instructor.”

“She has, and I’m incredibly proud of her.” And he was anxious for her to be safe, without a single lasting injury. The idea of her in danger was gnawing at him; he quickly pivoted to their discussion. “What happened afterwards…? Ah, then we met Sagara-san’s friend. I’m not sure whether he enjoyed our get-together at the dojo.”

“He was intending to bomb the Department of Internal Affairs.”

That was news to Koshijiro. “I didn’t know about this.” He took one of the mochi, biting into it. The slight sweetness filled his mouth and he carefully pushed the tray closer to Himura.

“This one did not want to wake anyone else, but Sanosuke and Tsunan were already leaving. The latter still held a grudge against the Meiji government, and Sanosuke helped in stopping him.” Himura quietly explained. “So, no harm occurred.”

“Thank you. You protected the city’s peace.” He did vaguely recall a rumor about a break-in, that had paled in comparison to the ensuing events. “I believe Saito-san appeared not long after.”

Himura slowly nodded. “To recruit this one.”

“However, you didn’t want to break your vow.”

“…no. But this one did not know how to decline. As a hitokiri, and then on the front lines, this one followed orders without protest. But…with everyone’s support, this one felt like he could refuse. Until the late minister was killed.”

“And so, you changed your mind.”

“This one could not stand by, to allow Shishio to bring destruction and death.”

“I agree. It would not be like you at all. That was why none of us were surprised. We were sad for you, but we understood.” Koshijiro’s ears burned at the confession. Was that right to say? Yes, sad had to be the appropriate label for how they felt, how he felt at the time.

“In Kyoto, this one…did not expect to see Kaoru-dono and Yahiko.”

“Yes, they followed you.” There was another unbearably long pause. And Koshijiro grasped for a thought. “Because we care for you and worry about you.” It was embarrassing, but he had to keep going. “You were doing the right thing, to stop Shishio, but we would never let you succumb into the depths. To remind you of who you are, the man who belonged at the Kamiya dojo.”

“Belonged?” Himura repeated, his eyes questioning.

“You still do.” Koshijiro gruffly said. “It was not the same without you. Emptier, colder, without your presence. While I was watching the house, there were inquiries about where you’d gone and where Kaoru and Yahiko were. As for myself, I had to clean the shed as a distraction from loneliness. I was very glad when I finally received the telegram of your victory.”

With so much talking, his mouth was dry. He gulped down the lukewarm tea, trying to dampen the flush of discomfort. If he had his handkerchief, he’d wipe his forehead. Talking about his feelings was not his strength. Absolutely not. But for Himura, who needed to find himself again, this was necessary. It was the most important thing right now.

“You did visit every week. It must have been tiring to travel.”

“I was only tired when I returned to the empty house. Otherwise, seeing everyone and observing your progress made the frequent trips worth it.”

“Kyoto holds many memories.” Then, without prompting, Himura said. “But the exercises, the training, the rebuilding and the festival…those are what this one wants to remember about the city.”

Koshijiro carefully looked at him. Perhaps, the darkness had receded a touch, but he was not free of it yet. A little further, as if he was turning, at the base of a long set of steps. Koshijiro offered his hand, fingers splayed, and caught the flicker of Himura’s upward gaze. Better. “And when we were home, your true desire was granted. Kaoru welcomed you, just like this.”

“She did.” His voice was barely a whisper. “And it was peaceful again, until Enishi arrived. This one did not mean to hide the past, but it was painful to share.”

He quickly emphasized. “None of us blame you. We were only worried about you. It is why we fought the other lackeys, and we were glad to lend our support to you.” They had reached the present, at the steepest obstacle; there was no point in reminding Himura of that horrendous night. Koshijiro hesitated, staring at the sakabato. “Now…you have locked up your sword. Why did you do that?”

“Because this one hasn’t found it yet. The answer…” He gripped the sakabato in fierce desperation. “What is the answer to atone for all of this one’s sins? The vow this one made…it was not enough…”

“And you’re right.” At this concession, he glanced up and Koshijiro explained. “You traveled all of Japan, with your oath to never kill again with the sword. But those words carried an assassin’s regret as well. Like the chains between your hands, that mindset shackled you to your past.”

“So, was this one wrong the whole time?”

Whether Himura was right or wrong, that was not for Koshijiro to decide. And perhaps, not even for humans to judge. But the answer was elsewhere entirely, at the top of the foundation they’d been building over the course of the morning. This was the true meaning of their discussion.

“When we first met, I was…blinded by my own assumptions and stubbornly stuck to them. And I only want what is best for Kaoru. But, I was misguided.” Koshijiro bowed his head. He wasn’t certain whether he was choosing the right words, and it was painfully difficult. Here in this moment, he was going to be completely honest. “I understand what she saw in you. You are a selfless man, who has been attentive to the needs of other people. You are always diligent and willing to lend your sword if a fight is unavoidable. You may feel mired in darkness, and yet, with every action over these months, your heart has never wavered. So, what is your answer? It is a new vow.”

“A new…vow.” Himura echoed. The sun had moved with the day’s passing, and the light cast over his face. His hair and eyes shone brighter; had the spark lit anew?

“We have talked for a long time and I already know what it is, but I’m not going to tell you.” At Himura’s confused expression, he clarified. “This is something you need to realize for yourself, to form in your own words. The reason, that Himura Kenshin should live for. Again and again through the memories we have gone over, you have demonstrated it. All you need to do is speak it.”

And with that, Koshijiro brushed himself off and stood. “The tea is cold and it’s nearly time for lunch. I’m going to the kitchen so I’ll be right back.” It was best that Himura have a moment to think anyway, and he wasn’t concerned that the man would try to disappear again.

As for himself, he felt as if he’d undergone a purification ceremony. Exhausted, but with a sense of inner resolve. A satisfying and clean feeling. He had to smile wryly at that.

However, as soon as he approached the stove, there was a call from the gate. He hurried outside, and almost bumped into the smaller figure racing across the front yard. Yahiko was trying to catch his breath, the hilts of two shinai peeking over his shoulder, and he grasped Koshijiro’s arm.

“Kamiya-san, come help!” He urged. “There’s trouble in town!”

“Then, lead the way.”

His gaze darted towards the house. “And Kenshin?”

“He’s better but not ready yet. You can explain everything to me.”

The boy began to run and Koshijiro increased his pace as well, as the words spilled. “I was with Tsubame, we were buying stuff for their new place. We were talking because she seemed down and…well, anyway, I was coming back here when I heard the Armstrong cannon!”

It had to be Kujiranami. “He must have broken out of his cell.”

“Yeah, and we need to stop him! I grabbed my shinai and one for you.”

“Thank you, Yahiko. What about the others? Shinomori-san, Makimachi-san?”

Yahiko shook his head. “After breakfast, Misao said they were going to join up with Saito’s team. They think they’ve found a specific island.”

Koshijiro’s heart jumped. “Really? Where? Which one?”

“I don’t know. She was already sprinting off and of course, Aoshi was totally silent.”

“No, it’s fine. I should have expected as much.” Still, he hoped the lead would be fruitful.

“Um…there’s something else. I told Tsubame. Kind of.” He puffed, more exertion than anything. “Like, I said we’d all be together again soon. I know we weren’t supposed to reveal the truth until this is over but she really looked sad, and I wanted to cheer her up.” His expression was guilty, but Koshijiro only gave a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. The secret is making us all feel guilty, and the intention was never to distress anyone. But we are close to our goal and I will bear responsibility later. For now, let’s focus on neutralizing the threat.”

At this point, they were a few blocks away from the station. However, smoke was billowing in its direction and the bells for the fire brigade were clanging. And then, there was a familiar explosive boom. It was the middle of the day, and people were confused. Some were standing still, others hastily retreating into their homes. No one was moving fast enough.

The scream of his name drew Koshijiro’s attention, and he locked eyes with Shinichi, who was urgently waving. Koshijiro beckoned him off the main road. Yahiko quietly passed over the shinai, while the young man delivered the report in gasps.

“The cannon-armed guy! He’s escaped!” Shinichi rambled, eyes wild. “The chief hasn’t recovered and the assistant chief had to leave on urgent business. The station’s blown up. A few units have gone to the army and headquarters, but it’ll be another hour before they get here. We don’t have a chain of command, everyone’s going to die-”

“Officer Shinichi, take deep breaths.” He laid his hand upon the young man’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. Now, when your mind is calm, you can think clearly.”

“Y-yes. I’m sorry, it’s just that this situation is terrible…we need to evacuate the civilians!”

“Agreed. Who’s here?”

“Our unit is on this street, but I don’t know about anyone else.”

“That will be enough.” Koshijiro glanced over the rooftops. A distant crash made him grimace, and he said. “Time is short. We’ll have to act fast, so gather the others.”

At Shinichi’s whistle, the remaining fourteen arrived within the minute. Their identical expressions were of nervousness and concern. Koshijiro split them into groups of three. “Kujiranami is a dangerous individual, not only because of his strength and weapon, but in his rage, he will not hold himself back. He has no targets in mind, so he will indiscriminately point the cannon anywhere. Our priority is evacuation! Fujisawa, Ikehira, Kato: the north. Maeda, Yoshihara, Abe: the west. Kobayashi, Tanaka, Shimizu: the east. Aoki, Tomita, Eguchi: the south. And for Shinichi, Nakamura, and Hoshi: fortify the end of the street. Gather any materials, recruit volunteers. Kujiranami will not go further than here.”

“That’s right!” Yahiko declared. “Kamiya-san and I will stop him! We can use the buildings as cover. We know the area, and together, we can flank him! We’ve got tactics!”

“…Huh?” The officers were taken aback.

“Yahiko’s right. We may not have artillery or manpower, but we have our wits and skill. Most importantly, we have our composure. And…it’s only fitting.” Koshijiro gripped his shinai. “A one-armed opponent for a one-armed criminal.”

“Kamiya-san…”

“Damn, that was good.”

“I’d give my life today, I’m not afraid anymore!”

“No one’s going to die today!” Yahiko admonished them. He tipped his chin to the bright blue sky and roared. “Let’s go!”

Everyone couldn’t help crying out, and then, they separated. People quickly filed out of the vicinity, thanks to the confident directions of the officers. Yahiko scrambled up to a rooftop for a vantage point, though Koshijiro repeatedly told him to be careful. “If he sees you, come down immediately.”

“Got it. He’s still headed this way, they’re trying to shoot at him, but he isn’t affected at all. His cannon looks a little different. Did he always have a bayonet attached to it?”

“That doesn’t sound like the same weapon he was arrested with.”

“How’d he get something like that?”

Koshijiro internally cursed. “It must have been from the prison. I remember when I had my inspection; there’s a room with military grade weapons meant to suppress riots, per the chief jailer’s proud request. Knowing Yukishiro, he must have designed the metal arm to be compatible with other machinery.”

“Yahiko-kun!” They turned instinctively, finding Tsubame standing by the barricade of crates and planks. She must have returned. Her uncertain voice floated towards them. “You’re fighting?”

“I have to. This is what I’ve decided, to protect people with Kamiya Kasshin. So, don’t cry. Like I said earlier, we’re all going to see each other again.”

She stared for a moment, her face crestfallen before she clasped her hands together. “Then…I’m going to the Kamiya dojo! I will find Kenshin-san and tell him everything so he can help!”

“Thanks, Tsubame! Please talk to him!”

“Y-yes! I will!” Her eyes were fearful, but her head was held high as she ran.

“She’s become stronger as well.” Koshijiro noted.

“I believe in her. Kenshin too.” Yahiko grinned at him. “And of course, the both of us.”

Then, the clamor intensified, and the next explosion was much closer. The interval between blasts was shorter than previously, though not as strong. And then, a shadow appeared. Outlined by the glow of flames, he was seething, each step thunderous. If they failed, Kujiranami would rampage throughout the city, unchecked in his destruction.

Koshijiro stood in the middle of the street, lifting the shinai in a neutral position. He inhaled, filling his lungs, and shouted. The kiai was like crackling energy from his head to his feet, and he lowered his stance, connecting to the immovable earth.

Now, he could see the new cannon-arm. Above the bayonet, the barrel was smaller, more suitable for the chain of ammunition draped over Kujiranami’s torso. Grenades. That explained the changes in reload time and force. “He’s firing grenades. These attacks will be faster and more numerous.” He explained to Yahiko.

“We gotta charge him.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“I’ll take the right, Kamiya-san.” The side with the weapon.

“Yahiko-”

“You’re still recovering and I’m a smaller target. I’ll be okay!”

There was no time to protest, because the man was picking up speed. Silently, he trusted Yahiko as they closed the distance. Swerving around, he aimed for the back of Kujiranami’s head. The blow reverberated through Koshijiro’s arm, but other than a pained grunt, Kujiranami shrugged it off. He swung the cannon and there was a glimpse of dark hair whirling away. Yahiko was barely dodging, but he was holding his own. A rivulet of blood trickled from the seam where metal attached to skin.

The hiss was the only warning, and Koshijiro crossed the nearest threshold, taking cover as a grenade exploded in the street. With the amount of ammunition Kujiranami bore, there was no possibility of wasting all his shots. But if the cannon was stuck, where the grenades fed into the barrel…that would eliminate the immediate danger.

“Battousai!” Kujiranami was still fixated on Himura.

Koshijiro rushed out, but the man didn’t seem to register his presence, continuing to trudge forward. Yahiko emerged as well, saying. “We both landed hits, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.”

“What we should target is the loading mechanism of the cannon. There.” Koshijiro pointed the end of his shinai to Kujiranami’s upper arm. Since they were behind him, they could see where the grenades inserted into the underside of the weapon. “I can provide a distraction. Yahiko, can you find a way to jam the cannon?”

“I can do it! I already have an idea.” He nodded confidently.

“Good. I believe in you as well.” Then, after ensuring Yahiko had hidden in a nearby building, Koshijiro called out. “Kujiranami! You will never fight Hitokiri Battousai again!”

Fortunately, this caught his attention. He turned slowly, his face distorted in a sneer. “What?”

“The assassin died with the old era. You are clinging to the past, not even to a ghost, but to the time when your arm was cut off.”

“By Battousai!”

“Because he did not want to take your life! For ten years, you have drowned in resentment and misery, for the sole reason that you were not given a warrior’s death. You unfairly blame Himura-san, and you are wrong.”

Kujiranami snarled, approaching closer. “How would you understand? You lost your left, not even your dominant hand!”

Koshijiro bellowed. “But you’re not the only one who lost something and you’re certainly not the only person who’s ever suffered! Tell me, what have you done, other than cause more suffering?!”

The cannon-arm violently swung, and he was forced to retreat. He ducked, the grenade firing into the rooftop overhead. Dust, splinters, and heat washed over him. With the shinai, he charged once more. This time, he made it obvious, and as expected, he was parried by the metal barrel. The bayonet was now below Koshijiro’s hand, aiming directly at his heart. Only the length of his arm was keeping Kujiranami at bay.

The other man’s expression had become impassive. He seemed less like a raging beast, more human. Was he regaining his sanity? “Why aren’t you bitter? You were a samurai once, weren’t you?”

“Those days are over, and even so, I am not bitter because I know pride is nothing without honor. Do you truly believe you’ve acted as honorably as a samurai should? If you are able to see what you’ve done, you can stop yourself.”

Something in his expression gave, but that hope was short-lived. “…I can’t. Never. This is what I have left of my strength!” The cannon lowered, and Koshijiro’s knees bent further. The bayonet slid, and sharp agony welled at his chest. But he couldn’t disengage.

“Hadome!” A cry resounded, and Yahiko’s short spiky hair appeared. The backs of his hands were catching the bayonet’s base, preventing advancement. His core was strong. Every word was a struggle, yet brimming with willpower. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else! Protecting people with the sword…that’s my strength. That’s how I want to live in the new era. Just like my friends! Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu: Hawatari!”

And then, he launched at Kujiranami and swung at his underarm. That was a weak spot for anyone, and the man recoiled. The bamboo had snapped with the amount of force, but that must have been the plan all along. The loading mechanism was perfectly lined up, and Yahiko inserted the broken hilt within. A harsh grinding noise followed.

“No! No!” Kujiranami howled. His other fist lashed out, knocking Koshijiro in the ribs. He was thrown aside, impacting the ground on his wounded shoulder. Stars of pain lit in his vision, as Kujiranami reached for Yahiko-

A flash of red descended from the sky. The blade shone on the opposite side of the sword, as nine attacks were unleashed in quick succession on Kujiranami. The three-point landing was unsteady, but Himura managed to right himself. In the daylight, he looked thinner and the dark circles under his eyes hadn’t fully receded. But he was here. He had found his reason to stand again.

Relief flooded Koshijiro.

Yahiko swayed on his feet. “Kenshin!”

But Kujiranami remained standing, and he attempted to fire, the grinding worse. With a hoarse shout, Himura soared into the air and struck again, this time at the seam. The cannon clanked, severed from its owner, and dropped uselessly in the dirt. Kujiranami stared at it, then the stump of his arm. Unwrapped, the skin was rubbed raw and irritated, not like a decade-old wound.

“For a second time, I’ve been defeated.” He uttered.

Himura replied. “Even if you wish it, this one will not kill you. You may not have your right hand, but you have a warrior’s fighting spirit. That is how you’ve endured the past ten years, a strength that will surpass any weapon. Please, turn yourself in and continue to live in peace.”

He bowed his head, but the tears on his face couldn’t be concealed. “You, and Kamiya, and…who is this boy?” He looked to where he was protectively standing over Koshijiro.

“I’m Myojin Yahiko, of the Myojin family! My father was a samurai.” Surely, Yahiko’s father would be proud at the burning fire in his son’s gaze.

“A worthy showdown then, and you all spoke honestly. Thank you…and I surrender.” At these words, the officers jumped in with handcuffs and chains. Kujiranami was docile, with one lingering glance at the cannon before it was confiscated. He nodded at Koshijiro, who responded in kind.

He had mustered the energy to sit, and he exhaled. “Welcome back, Himura-san.”

“Forgive this one, Kamiya-dono.” His voice still sounded weak, but he limped towards them. “This one was nearly too late.”

“It’s alright. Have you found what you were seeking?”

“Yes. And thank you.” Abruptly, his knee buckled and he fell to the ground but his fleeting smile was of relief. Koshijiro dragged his weary body next to him and Yahiko collapsed at his other side. They must have made quite a picture, laying on their backs together and though too tired to speak, they stayed in that little huddle.

A screech of braking wheels, and the slam of a door. Leaping over the barricade, Shinomori rushed towards them, with Saito and Makimachi in his wake. Medical bag in her grasp, Takani was squeezing through a gap, Tsubame closely at her heels.

Ah, good. Everyone was accounted for…except one person. And they would see her very soon. Koshijiro closed his eyes, and the last thing he registered before exhaustion set in was the city’s budding applause.

Chapter Text

Three days had passed since then. Koshijiro had overexerted himself and was confined to the clinic with Yahiko and Himura. Takani delivered thorough admonishment.

“Ken-san, you’re incredibly malnourished; you need to eat or I’ll start with a funnel! As for you, Yahiko, those dagger injuries are still at risk of infection and you have to let them fully heal. And I can’t believe I have to say this, but Kamiya-san! You nearly opened your shoulder wound. I swear, the rest of these idiots are rubbing off on you…”

“I regret nothing.” He resolutely answered and he meant it. “I would do it all over again, to protect Tokyo.”

Makimachi jumped in. “Megumi, everything’s fine now! Even better, we know where we’re going!” The island was to the south, roughly twenty kilometers east of the Izu archipelago. It was reportedly uninhabited, given its high cliffs, but it was on the supply route they previously discovered and a direct path to Shanghai could easily be mapped out.

Upon hearing this information, Koshijiro attempted to leave the bed. “We need to prepare for the trip. We have to set sail at any moment.” He felt a sharp pinch in his arm and looked downwards to find a needle in Takani’s hand.

“Not you. You have to rest.”

A numbness radiated from the injection site, spreading in a wave to his chest and head. “You gave me a sedative.” He said in disbelief, and he couldn’t prevent his eyelids from falling.

“Sorry, Kamiya-san, but we’ll take care of everything.” Those were the last words he heard, before he plunged into sleep.

And so, he was trapped in that little room. He was allowed visitors, and the young officers were among the first, relaying the news that the chief inspector would return to duty soon. The station was being urgently rebuilt…also, there were rumors of a medal, which Koshijiro winced at.

“It’s unnecessary. Please tell the chief I said that.” However, from their proud expressions, he doubted they’d try to dissuade any of the higher-ups. They left with such good cheer and he had to suppress a sigh. Well, the morale boost was promising.

Then, Tae and Tsubame arrived. They stopped by Koshijiro first, and he thanked the girl. “Tsubame, you did an excellent job of finding Himura-san.”

“I-it was nothing! I’m glad he heard me. Megumi-san said he’s asleep though.”

“He has to recover as much as he can. However, Yahiko should be awake in his room.”

She smiled, ducked her head, and headed next door. However, Tae lingered. “Thank you, Kamiya-san, for what you did. But are you alright? This week, so much has happened.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He hesitated before adding. “We’re going to depart very soon. It has to do with our attacker and I’m sorry, but I can’t say more. Not until we’re all home again.” He hoped she caught his choice in words, the use of ‘attacker’ instead of ‘murderer’, and his particular emphasis.

A long pause followed. Tae’s eyes flickered to the window and back to him. Slowly, she said. “I think I understand. You know, someone left red spider lilies on Kaoru’s gravesite. She might not like those, so I’ll clean them up.” She said this casually, but even he knew that the flowers represented the afterlife.

“Thank you. That would be appropriate.”

She gave a tight smile, and abruptly, tears sprung from her gaze. “If…if anyone is hurt when you return, let me know. I’ll do whatever I can. Please.”

It was an odd reaction from her, something he’d never seen before, but he readily agreed. “Of course, Sekihara-san.”

Hastily, she wiped her eyes and exhaled. “Well, I’ll check on Yahiko and Tsubame, though they’re probably behaving.” Her smile was a little wobbly but she was otherwise calm.

He didn’t have time to consider her behavior because Takani entered to examine him. She was acting as sole provider, having negotiated with Dr. Gensai to cover the clinic alone until they inevitably left Tokyo.

“How are the others?” He asked.

“Ken-san had soup for lunch but he can try solid food tonight. He’s sleeping restfully for once, so I’ve placed a sign on his door not to disturb him. Yahiko looks like he wants to practice kenjutsu, I’m keeping a close eye in case he sneaks out.” She proceeded with a rudimentary exam. “And there’s something else. I’ve made up my mind. After everyone recovers from this upcoming fight, I’m going to Aizu.”

“The Aizu police haven’t replied yet, but perhaps, they need another reminder.”

“It isn’t just that. I know I want to return there, to find my mother and brothers. You never gave up on Kaoru, and my family has no one else but me. I have lived long enough in self-pity; I’m ready to look for them.” She sounded certain of herself. “Besides, I can always return to visit, right?”

“Absolutely. You’re welcome at the dojo any time.”

“Thank you. Still, I think I will miss everyone.” A familiar sadness flickered across her face, and with that, she briskly walked away.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the last of her because not two hours later, her voice echoed from the front. Koshijiro strained to listen, and he got up, peering into the hall. Hurried footsteps paced closer, two sets and one was certainly heavier.

“At this point, I can’t even be surprised. Sit down in that room, and I’ll bring my supplies.”

“Fine, fine.” But the low voice was laidback, and Koshijiro stared at Sagara, standing near an adjacent door and cradling his bandaged right hand. The young man broke into a wide grin. “Hey, old man! I made it in time.”

“Welcome back. You do seem a little worse for the wear.” Koshijiro wryly said, nodding at the injury.

“Got a story behind this, once we’re all together. I have you to thank for that, for pushing me in the right direction.” Then, Takani approached, a box of dressings tucked under her arm.

“You’re lucky you weren’t delayed; otherwise, we would’ve left you behind. Now, Ken-san is the only one who needs to be ready.”

“How is he?” His tone was guarded.

“Much better, because of Kamiya-san.”

“Gotta thank you twice then.” He gave a two-fingered salute. “And? What’s the plan?”

It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be a docile patient, so Koshijiro joined them. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Yahiko barged in.

“I knew it! I knew I heard you, Sanosuke! Where the heck have you been?!”

“To my parents’ house in Nagano.” Ah, he did reunite with his family. “I left last night.”

“That’s far!” Takani exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I’m starving.”

With such prompting, they had a late lunch after Sagara’s superficial wounds were treated. The boys eschewed their table manners again, eating as if their bowls would be swiped underneath them. But the sight was reassuring, and at least, they refrained from belching, though it could’ve been due to the arrival of Shinomori. His posture was brimming with intent, in contrast to the slouching Makimachi who heaved a sigh as she propped her feet up. Then, she nearly jumped out of her skin, noticing Sagara.

“Wait, you’re here! That’s great, because everything’s all set! We’re going to leave tonight, after sunset.” It was much faster than anticipated, but a welcome update.

Shinomori supplied. “Yes, and our first stop is at Port Yokosuka, to convene with the Navy ships. After that, we will head on a direct path for the island while they flank and guarantee no one escapes. In the event that the main ship is slowed down, our group will take a rowboat and land as the initial offensive. Saito’s squad is currently loading the ship, so we should gather our things.” Meaningfully, his hands fell to his kodachi.

“I got my kunai!” Makimachi happily announced, followed by Takani’s nod.

“I’ll pack my medicine chest.”

Koshijiro then said. “Yahiko, we’ll have to return to the dojo and retrieve new shinai.”

“Sure! Two, right?”

“Three.” He clarified. “One for me, one for you, and one for Kaoru.” Yahiko broke into a knowing grin.

“Of course, she does need a weapon.”

“And all I need are my hands, so we gotta hurry!” Sagara bellowed. He pushed his chair back, stomping out of the little room. “Come on, Kenshin!” Before they could tell him to stop, he was already heaving the door aside. “Ken…shin?”

The crowding didn’t help Koshijiro’s perspective, and for a moment, an uneasy dread chilled his fingertips. But then, he caught sight of Himura. He was out of bed, standing by the open window, the white curtains fluttering. The sakabato was in his hands, and he was in the midst of sliding it back into its sheath. His expression was considering and purposeful, just as he turned, blinking at all of them. “This one is sorry to have kept you waiting.”

The others seemed stunned; he looked well-rested and fully recovered. Koshijiro stepped forward. “It’s alright. Do you believe in your new vow?”

“Yes.” Himura lifted the sakabato before him, in a show of resolve. “This one does.”

“Very good.” He smiled before pausing. “When you face Yukishiro again, there will be no room for doubt. Not again.”

“Understood.” Fire burned in his gaze. “Let’s go! To where Kaoru-dono is!”

And in a single voice, they assented. “Yes!”

The moon was rising over the dark undulating ocean, directly shining upon the smooth hull of their nondescript sailing vessel. Waves lapped against the dock, the repetitive sound echoing around them as they walked. Koshijiro maintained a guarded eye. The dojo had been left in Tokio’s capable hands, the boys napping while she resolutely locked the gate. Now, up ahead, he trusted that Saito’s squad and the crew were handling the matters of setting off. The cool salty air was tinged with tobacco, Saito stamping out a cigarette. At his side, there was a familiar figure who lifted a bandaged hand in greeting.

“Long time no see.” Sawagejo grinned. “So, this is it, huh?”

“You were discharged from the hospital?” Koshijiro asked. The man was further wrapped under his collar, hinting at healing burns, but he was standing on his own.

“Not that I wanted to stick around either, I was itching to get out.” He lowered his voice to a hiss. “One of you better land a good hit on Yukishiro for me! It’s the least he deserves for trying to kill me.”

Saito interjected, lip curling. “And as I told you, he’ll get what he deserves, one way or another.” He was still angry about the transfer to the Chinese government, stalking towards the boarding plank. The group followed suit, Sagara checking shoulders with Sawagejo.

The hammocks below deck were offered to them, but they all chose to stay above, watching in tense silence. But there were no interruptions. The boat began to drift, the lights of Tokyo bobbing and gradually shrinking into pinpricks, before the city disappeared entirely. They were safe for the time being, seemingly undetected. Nevertheless, any conversation was idle and short-lived.

It was a smooth trip to Port Yokosuka, and the trio of Naval ships were marked by their raised flags. The anchor had been dropped for mere minutes, when Hayashi came to greet them. He was accompanied by a taller young man with a serious clean-shaven face, and he headed straight for Koshijiro, firmly shaking hands.

“There’s that expression, the one you always had before a tournament. I have fifty men for this voyage, plenty of ammunition for our cannons, and Lieutenant Ehara is our best navigator.” He jabbed a thumb to the man, who immediately saluted. “Come aboard, I hear we have a tiger to hunt.”

Leaving the first boat in the harbor with the doubly paid crew, they were ushered onto the largest Navy ship, designed for traversing open sea. Hayashi issued orders, Ehara taking point at the helm and focusing on an array of maps. The stars shifted, the land retreated, and soon, they were surrounded by water at all sides. It was close to midnight and Yahiko tried in vain to hide his yawns.

“Just…a little longer…”

“I don’t think so. Off to bed with you.” Takani retorted, prodding his lower back. “And that goes for all of us.”

“In a minute.” Makimachi said, peering into the depths. Her new kunai flashed between her fingers, both wrists flexing in purposeful motion. Shinomori wordlessly loomed over her, though he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Koshijiro’s vision was then abruptly blocked by Hayashi, who coaxed him to sit on a nearby crate. “I’m afraid I don’t have sake this time, but I feel you wouldn’t partake anyway.”

“No. I don’t think I can sleep well, but I’ll try to close my eyes.” He stared into the dark distance. Kaoru was waiting out there.

“If it was my child, I’d probably act the same as you. Perhaps even worse.” Hayashi’s expression was foreboding.

“How are they, and your wife?”

“She’s well, and I hate to leave her alone with the children, but she told me to go.” He smiled. “By the way, the twins are here and thank any god who listened, because they’re girls. Sanako and Sawako. Mirror images of each other. The boys love them to bits and they rarely cry.”

“Ah, you have your calm ones.” Koshijiro said.

“For now, at least.” He nodded across the deck, where Himura was standing in perfect silence. “Who’s the redhead?”

“Himura-san. He is…someone special to Kaoru.”

“Oh? And what do you think of him?”

“He’s a good man. I trust him.”

Those fox eyes narrowed in scrutiny, followed by a grin. “I see, he has your approval. Well then, I’ll leave you to rest until we get closer to the island. Good night!”

And now that his friend called it to attention, that was an unresolved point. Koshijiro laid in one of the bunk beds, sleeping in dreamless fits. Sagara snored above, masked by the rolling waves. The darkness was receding, and grabbing the two shinai he had taken on, Koshijiro decided it was finally time to wait on the deck.

But he wasn’t the only one. Himura was sitting in a secluded corner, almost hidden except for the breeze ruffling his hair. His gaze turned from the indigo sky to Koshijiro. “Kamiya-dono.”

“Himura-san.” He inclined his head. “I hope I wasn’t disturbing you.”

“Not at all, this one was thinking it was time to stop resting.” He rose to his feet and joined Koshijiro. For a minute, they watched the sea, becoming blue-green with the impending dawn.

“There is something I wanted to discuss with you.” His pulse was kicking up, and he continued, trying to quell his nerves. “Sagara-san said something interesting when we were in Kyoto, that you thought you heard Kaoru’s voice while you were on your way to fight.”

“That did happen.” Himura acknowledged.

“At the time, I asked Kaoru how she felt about you and I was unsure of where you stood. I meant to ask you after you recovered, but it’s been tumultuous since then and I thought it was best to wait. Until now. Now, I believe it’s the right time.” He regarded Himura seriously. “Could you tell me, what are your feelings for my daughter?”

For a moment, he was quiet. “As you said, Kamiya-dono, it is best to start at the beginning. This one had been wandering for ten years before coming to Tokyo. On that evening, there was a young woman, calling out to Hitokiri Battousai and accusing him of dishonoring the name of Kamiya Kasshin. She attacked this one with her shinai.”

“Did she?”

“Yes.” He smiled at the memory. “She was bold and bright. She believed in her own conviction so strongly, in using the sword to protect people. This one was…intrigued. So, this one felt like staying, to see if that world she spoke of would become reality. Perhaps, since then, this one has watched her. Her lively spirit, her growing confidence, her infinite kindness. When she was captured by Jin-e and she broke free from his hold, the first thing she said was that she was alright. And at that time, this one thought he never wanted to look away from her.”

Oh. So, it was since then. “…Kaoru’s only had eyes for you as well, even after you had to leave.”

Himura cleared his throat. “To say goodbye to her was difficult enough; embracing her was only selfishness on this one’s part.” Wait, he had embraced her? But he was still talking before Koshijiro could request a pause. “And when she came to Kyoto, this one was angry and relieved, but now, this one realizes those weren’t half feelings. At the root, they were the same emotion. And along with it, there was fear. Of unworthiness for her, of rejection by her, but most of all, for her safety. This one swears it will not happen again. Never.”

“I believe you.” Koshijiro murmured.

Himura’s eyes lit, accepting, and he continued. “Until now, this one didn’t realize how starved he was, until meeting Kaoru-dono. Every day was full of warmth and kindness. Within this one’s heart,” His hand lifted to clasp his chest. “Kaoru-dono has ignited a flame, and that flame has only grown, with every person who has crossed our path. Kamiya-dono, this one would like to walk together with her, to return home, and to see her smile, always. This one loves Kaoru-dono.” He said it easily, with only the slightest hint of color on his face.

It definitely was infectious, because Koshijiro felt warm as he held up his hand to stop Himura from divulging further. “I appreciate your forthrightness. Kaoru will too, when she’s here and safe with us.”

“Yes.” He softly agreed.

Then, the ship abruptly quieted, no longer speeding towards the island but progressing with caution. Hayashi was directing the men with a hushed voice, and he headed for Koshijiro.

“We’ll reach the island in ninety minutes, so we’re changing pace. The winds are favorable, but this fog won’t last, so we’ll be visible sooner than we’d like.”

“Understood. Where do you want us to be?”

Following orders, the eight of them gathered at the bow. The two other ships drifted apart, preparing to flank. Then, on the horizon, a spot gradually grew larger, and dark green treetops encircled a portion that appeared to be a cove. Along the sheer cliffsides, the white shapes of seagulls rode the air currents. This was the island.

“The ship’s turning.” Saito noted, gaze narrowing. A second later, the motion became discernible; the vessel was pulling ninety degrees. “Why?”

The answer came from the young Lieutenant Ehara, putting away a telescope. “There are underwater mines ahead. It’s too dangerous for us to advance, so we’ll anchor and deploy the rowboats.”

“We’ll take the first one. Let’s go.”

Fortunately, they all fit, the oars seized by Sagara and Saito. As they were lowered into the ocean, Yahiko asked. “How are we going to get through?”

“Leave it to me!” Makimachi planted one knee down, unsheathing her daggers. “Like a kingfisher’s beak, I’ll pierce the mines and clear a path.”

“Thank you, Misao-dono.” Himura smiled. He was tucked into the rear of the boat, the sakabato’s hilt resting on his shoulder. Collectively, they had agreed to take care of every obstacle and opponent, so he would reserve his energy for fighting Yukishiro.

“You got it!” She began to mutter to herself. “Sixty-one and a half meters, thirty degrees to the right…thirty-two?”

“It is as we practiced.” Shinomori stood behind her. “Misao, your gaze should be on the changes in the waves.”

“R-right! So, it should be…twenty-nine point seven degrees!”

“Good.”

And with that approval, her dagger flew, disappearing into a foaming crest. A second later, a muffled blast followed, the explosion contained to a high spray of water. She tossed a pleased grin to them. “See that? Now, full speed ahead!”

Koshijiro’s heart jumped to his throat, with the rise and fall of the little boat. Salty droplets misted across his face, but his attention didn’t waver from the island. Successive splashes kicked up as Makimachi forged a straight line to the cove; if Yukishiro was maintaining any surveillance, they had to be visible. But there were no additional gunfire or cannon shots from the approaching trees, and the broad expanse of golden sand was empty. In the shallow water, the oars were no longer needed, and they trudged into the low surf.

They had landed.

The sunlight was warm, but it would soon become oppressive, and the dense foliage was even less promising. The twisting branches and evergreen needles were foreboding, though Shinomori shook his head. “No hidden men in the shadows. Still, they could be deeper within.”

“Should we charge in, or do we think more traps are waiting for us?” Sagara cast a glance to Himura.

“No, we will wait here. Enishi could have made our journey much more difficult; just like this one, he wants to settle this once and for all. It is likely he sees us now. However, if he has not come down in fifteen minutes, we will enter by force.”

Takani had brought her Western timepiece and she angled the glass surface to the rest of them. Still, ten minutes had never passed so slowly. The naval ships had anchored, following Makimachi’s tactic of disarming the mines, albeit with their own marksmen. The distant detonations faded in the background, as Saito snapped his head up.

“Get ready.”

Emerging from the trees, a small group stepped into the daylight. Four bulky men, with near identical features, surrounded a thin man, whose half-lidded eyes swept over them in cruel anticipation. They were all dressed in Chinese clothes, and they halted simultaneously.

“Ah, those are the people who attacked us! They chased us as soon as we were out of Kyoto!” Makimachi hissed.

“The man in the middle wasn’t one of them.” Shinomori clarified. “And he doesn’t seem to be Yukishiro.”

Saito ventured. “It’s likely this is Yukishiro’s second, Woo Heishin. From our sources, he’s less of a fighter, more of a manager. If he’s here, either he was abandoned by Yukishiro or sensed defeat and came out to surrender.”

The speculation wasn’t delivered subtly, and Woo obviously heard, grinding his teeth. His Japanese carried a slight accent. “How rude, as well as incorrect. The leader has thrown our organization to the sharks, so you can consider me as his replacement. As such, I’ve come to clean up loose ends.”

“So, it’s out of spite. You may think you’re clever, but you’re acting like a child, begging for attention.” Saito goaded.

“I don’t have the time to waste on you! Battousai, stop hiding behind your lackeys!”

“They are not; they are my friends.” Himura evenly replied. “And this one can say the same to you. This one only intends to fight Enishi.”

“And if you wish to replace Yukishiro as leader, you’ll have to accurately assess your opponents’ strength.” Shinomori intoned. “Otherwise, there is no hope for the organization.”

“Fine. If you want to die here, so be it!” He shouted, and the other men sprung into action. Koshijiro placed himself in front of Himura, but there was no need. The quartet spun in a tight circle, backs to each other, and gave ugly grins to their opponents. Saito, Sagara, Shinomori, and Yahiko. Woo taunted. “My bodyguards have mastered weapons to rival the gods. One kill for each of them! Battousai, you can watch the slaughter, while you cower behind the women and cripple.”

Takani pressed her lips together. “And you cower behind your guards. It’s no wonder then, that you’re number two.”

“I think we can take him down, right, Megumi?” Makimachi slammed her knuckles into her palm. “To the Oniwabanshuu commander and a trained female doctor, he’d be like a paper doll. And for insulting you, Kamiya-san, a nice dummy for your one-handed moves.”

However, Koshijiro was only partly listening. His priority lay beyond this beach, and with the enemy’s arrival, he noticed the path they used. It was barely visible amidst the sand and gnarled roots, but small pebbles were carefully spaced, delineating the borders. Around that tree, up the slope. He took three steps left, to gain better perspective. And there, hidden by the climbing branches, was a pointed roof of stone tiles. He frowned.

If that’s their base, they didn’t take the shortest distance. However, if Yukishiro has been here for some time, he had to create a faster route, in case of an urgent matter. Then, the exit point would have to be…

An opening, wide enough for a single person, stood out. Once Koshijiro noticed, he could not unsee it. But what if it was a trick or there was more danger awaiting? He vaguely registered the others discussing the weapons, how the four men had realized the capabilities of their allies. At Yahiko’s name, he turned his head. “Yahiko may not have fought against a staff user, but he’s proven that he can hold his own.” And if something happened, he would join.

As for the other three, he had faith in them, though they certainly didn’t need it. Saito’s opponent seemed to rely more on his own perception than the longsword in his grasp, and while he was able to inflict a gash upon the assistant chief, the latter’s ferocity assured victory. Truly, his belief in his own way of justice was his strength. Shinomori’s was an interesting challenge, copying the dual sword attacks. Nevertheless, imitations could never withstand centuries of Oniwaban tradition, and Shinomori’s unexpected use of close combat maneuvers sealed the mimic’s loss. Meanwhile, punches were dealt back and forth between Sagara and the third guard, blood splattering onto the sand. But the final blow was Sagara’s, with both hands, left over right. A new modification, which worked perfectly. And Woo was nervously fidgeting.

Yahiko was the last one remaining, although it was apparent why. The staff wasn’t its true form, as it separated into six links. It whipped towards Yahiko, striking him in the stomach and forcing him to stagger back. He was trying Hadome but it would not work…in its usual approach.

“Yahiko, remember: the intention of the succession technique!” Koshijiro exclaimed.

“…yeah! And don’t worry, that was my last mistake. For Kamiya Kasshin, and Kaoru, I’ll win!” He straightened and adjusted his stance. Neutral, just as Kaoru had in the Maekawa dojo in what felt like a lifetime ago. And he waited for the right moment. The hilt rose to meet the end joint, locking the weapon in place as a staff. It took immense effort, his arms trembling, but Yahiko was hanging on. He had caught the mace.

“That hint was excellent, Kamiya-dono.” Himura remarked. “Yahiko realized that he had to hold the mace’s tip in place. Now, his enemy can neither attack nor withdraw, without becoming vulnerable. Understanding the purpose of the succession technique was key…and he learned from you, who demonstrated Hizadome to us.”

“Yes. I’m glad.” He exhaled. He watched with pride as the boy advanced, snapping the wooden links with force.

With the four guards incapacitated, Woo spun around, attempting to run for the safety of the trees. However, he was stopped by a fist emerging from the shade. Yukishiro Enishi had reappeared, a displeased look on his face. But…there was another silhouette, at the point of the hidden route.

Blood pulsed in Koshijiro’s ears. His daughter was frowning, slipping off her geta. Had she snuck away from Yukishiro? He hadn’t noticed, focused on beating his former partner into submission. Koshijiro seized his opportunity. He tossed one shinai into the woods, the thud timed with Woo’s body crumpling. He didn’t dare look to confirm, he could only desperately hope she retrieved her weapon. Most of the others were turned away, demanding Kaoru’s return. Himura was unaffected by his brother-in-law’s irate mood, and his gaze fixed upon Koshijiro. He stared a moment too long, through Koshijiro and swiftly aside. He dipped his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then, he walked forward.

“Enishi. Let this be over. If you still wish to fight this one, we may continue.”

But he didn’t touch the bait. “Not yet. First, someone has to witness your final breath.” And he whipped around.

Kaoru was closer, acting as if she was lagging behind and became tangled in the underbrush. Neither the shinai nor her shoeless feet were visible. “It’s because you walk too fast! And now, I’m stuck-”

“Forget it. Stay there; if you take one step past the treeline, I’ll kill you.” Yukishiro threatened.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and she bent at the waist. However, she relaxed when Himura spoke up.

“It’s alright, Kaoru-dono.” He smiled reassuringly. “Please, wait for this one. It is this one’s battle to finish, and it will be over soon.”

“…okay. I believe in you.” A breeze caressed her hair, and her lips trembled. Her hands wrapped around herself, as if to hold back from running over. “Everyone…don’t worry about me!”

Koshijiro definitely couldn’t promise that much. It was agony, burning under the hot sun with her presence only a few strides away. Instead, he had to watch Himura silently draw the sakabato. Yukishiro unsheathed his tachi, the golden tassels falling. And the memory of that hellish night surfaced in his mind. After he headbutted Yukishiro, the man never attacked him again; his injuries had only been from Gein’s shadow weapons. Why? Yukishiro was physically robust, and a young man like him could have recovered easily…

While the four guards stumbled to the unconscious Woo and Takani summoned their friends for triage, Koshijiro turned to Himura. “Yukishiro’s senses.” He voiced the thought aloud. “Somehow, when I struck his head with mine in the dojo, it was a serious blow. Perhaps, he didn’t attack afterwards because he wasn’t confident in his perception. That is all I have to offer, unfortunately.”

“It is more than enough, Kamiya-dono. Thank you.” Himura regarded Yukishiro, silently assessing. Then, with a steady breath, he continued on.

The rhythmic crash of waves was uncomfortably loud, as the men faced each other. Then, Yukishiro dove into a crouch, launching into a recognizable attack. Himura dodged, the tachi slicing into the tree behind, and he leapt, firing off the rapid nine strikes. Metal collided against metal; they both flew back, the sand whirling. Both had used their signature moves at the start, and yet, it was another draw.

“Doesn’t Enishi look faster than before?” Takani whispered.

“He really wants to kill Kenshin now. That has to be the difference.” Sagara replied in kind. “But Kenshin’s willpower is stronger too.”

At this, Koshijiro glanced at his daughter. She was worriedly staring at Himura, obviously wondering if he had found his answer. Yes, he wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t. Yukishiro had already risen to his feet, as had Himura.

The white-haired man sneered. “Your speed is slightly greater than mine, and my strength is slightly greater than yours. Our skills are equal, but let’s see how you do with height.”

And then, they were airborne. Himura was markedly higher, yet Yukishiro made a surprising double jump. The tachi cut Himura’s shoulder, blood scattering as he landed first. That placed him in perfect position for an upward attack, which struck true to Yukishiro’s midsection. However, he wasn’t fazed, and in the next instant, they were rushing each other on the sand. The sakabato thrust forward, but Yukishiro’s arm flew, and Himura was knocked against a tree.

“Are you giving up already? Get up!” Yukishiro roared.

“…This one does not need you to say that. This one understands the answer to atone for everything, so there will be no surrender.”

“No, accept your punishment!” His sword swung heavily, and Himura avoided a critical blow, rolling out of the way. “Murder can only be repaid with death! You know deep down, that there are two options. Be slowly killed by me, or as a good samurai does immediately, kill yourself.”

The words were brimming with malice, the darkest desire of Yukishiro’s warped soul. And yet, Himura staggered to his feet.

“Still, you’re not giving up. Are you that afraid of dying?!”

“No, death does not frighten this one. But you are wrong, Enishi.” Himura’s expression was somber. “From the pit of despair, this one had to think about many things. Life, death, crime, punishment…and as this one was guided through reflection, there is a single truth that has been demonstrated, again and again. To protect everyone in this one’s path, to help those who are suffering…to see smiling faces. Yes, it is why this one became a hitokiri, and the weight of the victims’ deaths is this one’s sin to bear. But this one will never cease to bring happiness, to absolutely fight for a better world.” He lifted his sakabato, and despite his injuries, he possessed the aura of a dragon. “With ‘sword’ and ‘heart’, this one will persevere! That is this one’s reason, the vow to live on!”

A genuine and valiant answer, that could only have been stated by Himura. Koshijiro couldn’t suppress a smile. Nearby, Takani wiped her eyes, and Saito gave a grunt of approval.

“Just like Kenshin.” Sagara drawled, while Shinomori muttered.

“In some ways, it may be harsher than death.” That earned a good-natured protest from Makimachi.

“But he can do it!”

“Definitely!” Yahiko agreed, jumping from one foot to the other.

And Kaoru was gazing at Himura with the same light in her eyes, as she did at his bedside in Kyoto. Deep, unwavering love.

The moment was shattered by Yukishiro. “Do you think that will make my sister forgive you?”

“This one is not sure, but while thinking of the words, she finally smiled in return. Enishi…is she smiling for you now?”

He was taken aback at the question. It was fleeting, almost obscured by the glasses, but for a fraction, the man was gone and an apprehensive boy lurched. Then, Yukishiro snapped. His teeth ground together, his voice building to a scream. “Die, die, die! I’ll slam you down into hell!” The cords of his body drew taut, the veins bulging…but they didn’t appear normal, strangely colorless. And he seemed to be much faster, as he veered around Himura, blade aimed for the throat. Himura was forced to parry with the hilt, sweat beading on his scarred cheek.

“Those have to be nerves.” Takani slowly said, eyes wide. “I can’t think of another explanation.”

“But how can they be so huge?” Sagara was in disbelief.

Yahiko wondered. “Was he training to the limit, to increase his reaction time?”

Saito spoke around his cigarette, the smoke enveloping his features. “That wouldn’t be an easy task, and not to the extent they could become that prominent.”

“A biological abnormality, perhaps.” Shinomori suggested. “Something he was born with.”

The discussion didn’t escape Yukishiro. “Not at all. This was given to me by my beloved sister. Every day without her, my mind remained active, fueling my nerves. My frenzied nerves! After fifteen years-ugh!” He was abruptly cut off…by Himura lightly bumping his head against Yukishiro’s chin.

He fell for the same move twice! Koshijiro tried very hard not to laugh. And…good for Himura-san.

Himura was able to break free, disengaging, and Yukishiro was angrier than ever. He took off into a high jump, intent on forcing Himura in another midair battle. However, he didn’t, instead sprinting and drawing the sakabato in an unusually narrow arc. His forearm was lightly grazed, as Yukishiro was inevitably pulled by gravity, and he sheathed the reverse blade forcefully.

“Ouch!” Makimachi winced. “Sorry, that was a super high-pitched noise.” Shinomori also frowned, tilting his head.

And it affected Yukishiro, who remained curled on the crimson-tinted beach. Blood trickled out of his ear, and he was struggling to regain his bearings. “What…what did you do?”

“When the hilt contacts the sheath, it produces a sonic howl to stun the eardrum.” Himura replied. “In your case, it affected you much more, traveling through your sensitive nerves.”

Koshijiro quickly understood. “The sheathing was to target Yukishiro’s equilibrium.”

“Exactly!” Takani murmured. “That sound would have reached his inner ear, and he’s highly vulnerable to any kind of stimulus.” It was why a mild tap was an excellent distraction and a headbutt was incapacitating.

“He sacrificed defensive protection.” Sagara folded his arms. “So, Kenshin has a strong chance of defeating him with Hiten Mitsurugi.”

The balance was now in Himura’s favor, and he gently said. “You can barely stand, Enishi.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Suddenly, his fist smashed his ear. He writhed in severe pain, his entire body convulsing as he brought the tachi down. In a miss. He was losing control. “So what? I don’t need balance or hearing to kill you! I don’t need anything, other than the power to kill you! You already took the only thing I ever wanted to protect!” It happened again, except the boy wasn’t apprehensive. He was lost, and completely alone. The wailing of the seagulls eerily drifted overhead, as the group collectively stared at him.

Himura closed his eyes in acknowledgement, then opened them again. “Yes, that is true. It cannot be undone. So, this one will face you head on.” He didn’t touch Yukishiro, patiently waiting for him to get up.

This time, the atmosphere was of finality. Half of Yukishiro’s face was smeared with blood, which he ignored as he asked. “You said my sister smiled at you. What about now?”

“No, that was the last time. This one no longer sees her.” He relayed this without sadness or frustration, despite Yukishiro’s blatant surprise. “Not even her shadow or her voice remain, but that is alright. For this one’s friends, and the most important person, this one can take a firm step forward.”

Yukishiro’s grip tightened on his weapon. “You’re lying. She’ll smile when you’re dead. Let’s go!”

And Himura stepped with his left foot. He soared, accelerating at a speed they’d never witnessed before. Koshijiro caught his expression, free of doubt and singularly focused on what was ahead. A flawless execution of Hiten Mitsurugi’s succession technique. In Himura’s proximity, Yukishiro was unable to resist the amount of force left in his wake, and his center was shifted. His eyes were bulging in anguish. Then, the blow was delivered. The tachi snapped, golden tassels flying, and Yukishiro’s arm crunched, bending at an unnatural angle. Slivered cracks crept into the lenses of his glasses.

Himura landed, standing upright with the remaining energy he had. He managed to speak between heavy breaths. “Not…yet…”

Indeed, Yukishiro hadn’t fallen yet. The loss of his weapon didn’t dissuade him. He clutched his broken arm, seething. “Battousai!”

And then, a shot fired. Immediately, they all ducked. Woo was awake, and twin pistols were in his quivering hands. Himura stumbled, his sleeve darkening. It didn’t appear he was hit in a vital spot, but there was no cover on the open beach. Woo aimed squarely at him, finger on the trigger.

“No!” Kaoru’s voice rang out, as she darted to the man. Then, her arms lifted-

Crack!

Woo stumbled backwards, stunned. Kaoru struck again, her shinai colliding with his head. Neither of them was at full strength, but she had the advantage of surprise. Her next attack was to disarm him, and his pistol fell out of his grip. Her third attack, a thrust to his solar plexus, caused him to crumple onto the sand. A warm wind blew through as she retreated towards Himura, glancing back at the rest of them.

“Is everyone okay?”

Someone shouted, perhaps multiple voices. Woo was scrambling up again, but Kaoru only took a few steps towards him, before he was bowled over. White hair glinted in the sunlight, as Yukishiro thrashed his own second in command. Woo’s features became a gory mess, and a sickly feeling rose in Koshijiro, mixed with the memories of dead men.

A hand blocked Yukishiro’s fist, his jaw slackening. Himura gasped for air, though he would not budge. “You will kill this man, Enishi. No more. Whoever it may be, as long as they are within this one’s sight, no one will die! And if you continue, you will lose Tomoe’s smile forever.” His words finally reached Yukishiro, and the man relented, expression blank. Himura walked past him, a sentence that was nearly lost in the sound of the tide. “Thank you for protecting Kaoru-dono.”

Then, Yukishiro dropped to his knees. “No…! The one I wanted to protect was…the one I really wanted…” The boy was weeping, fifteen years’ worth of sorrow. “Curse you. Curse you!”

By now, Hayashi and his sailors had arrived in their rowboats. The lackeys were rounded up, hands and legs manacled. As for Yukishiro himself, he was surrounded by a cluster of uniforms, doubly secured. A sad and pitiful man, but a criminal who needed to pay for what he’d done.

And Koshijiro breathed. He turned to see Himura smiling, tripping on his own toes. Kaoru was there to catch him, and for a few seconds, they held each other. It was very low, but Himura was saying something? Kaoru drew back a little, startled yet not upset. His hands remained on her waist.

…That amount of time was acceptable. Koshijiro had to clear his throat. “Kaoru.”

“…Otou-san!” She cried and threw her arms around him. He held on tight, throat burning as his chin rested on the top of her head. Her scent was unfamiliar and she felt thinner, but she was alive.

“Are you alright, Kaoru?”

“I’m fine.” Her reply was choked. “A little hungry, but I’m so happy to see you. Otou-san?” She looked at him and tears rolled down her cheeks as she laughed. “You’re crying?”

He had been maintaining a steady veneer of composure, ever since they discovered the body was a fake. Now, that mask had crumbled and he couldn’t suppress himself any longer. His blurry vision obscured everything, and he covered his face with his hand. A deep sob escaped through his clenched teeth.

Kaoru rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay. Otou-san, it’s okay.”

“Kaooruuu!” Yahiko’s voice grew louder in intensity as he approached and he tackled them, wailing. “We’re here! We made it!” And then, he dissolved into crying too.

Himura returned, clasping the back of Yahiko’s head as the boy drew him in. “Thank you.”

Then, Makimachi wriggled her way through, declaring. “See? We won! Oh, I’m so happy…” Shinomori was right behind her, with a flicker of a smile.

“We’re such wrecks.” Takani hiccupped, as she entered the hug too.

A heavy palm patted between Koshijiro’s shoulder blades. “Come on, old man. We gotta be tough.” But Sagara was sniffling, and the aroma of tobacco smoke wasn’t far.

Finally, Koshijiro mustered the energy to regain his voice. Blinking the blurriness away, he said to his daughter. “Let’s get you home.”

It was a daze, transporting off the island. Kaoru was tucked between Koshijiro and Himura, and remained so, all the way to the main ship. A resounding cheer went up as she boarded, the mission accomplished. Takani was adamant on using a room below deck, to assess their injuries.

“Really, I’m okay.” Kaoru insisted once they filed into the cramped room. “I cooked for myself using their limited supplies, and that’s nothing new.”

Takani scrutinized her. “What are those marks on your neck?” Small, red-violet bruises encircled her throat. They were about the same size as a person’s fingertips.

Her hand reached up to them, her face suddenly stricken. “Oh. Um, while I was in the mansion, I thought I could take Enishi hostage and try to escape. But he grabbed me and tried to strangle me. He didn’t though, he can’t kill any woman around my age because of Tomoe-san’s memory. Other than that, he didn’t touch me.” She hastily added.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive! I was mostly confined to a little room, I had to figure out the different paths to the beach. I still think I could’ve taken the weekly supply ship if I made it out, but you all beat its arrival. Enishi claimed there wasn’t a ransom; still, I don’t know why else he would’ve kidnapped me.”

Yahiko blurted the truth. “We thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” Kaoru repeated, and her confusion was apparent as she looked at their faces. “But…why would you think that? I’m here.”

“There was a body.” Takani answered. “A girl, similar in age, who was made to resemble you. With a…” Her voice broke as she recovered. “With a katana through the heart and a bloody cross on one cheek.”

Kaoru recoiled. “You…you all saw? You must have…oh. And then…” She trailed off, at a loss for words. Long minutes passed. “Did she die because of me?”

“We don’t know that.” Koshijiro interjected. “And it’s not your fault. None of it is. The only ones to blame are those vile men.”

“They made you think I was dead.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She turned to Himura, taking his hand. “Kenshin, you thought…”

“Yes. This one was unable to protect you and despaired. Kamiya-dono guided this one, through the memories we’ve made in Tokyo and Kyoto and back.” He smiled at Koshijiro.

Awkwardly, he said. “It felt like a purifying rite, but I’m glad it led you to your reasoning and to your victory.” Then, he knelt and pressed his forehead to the creaking boards. “Thank you, Himura-san. I can’t thank you enough for saving my daughter.”

“Please, Kamiya-dono, you don’t have to perform that bow!”

“Thank you, Yahiko, Sagara-san, and Takani-san. Thank you, Makimachi-san, Shinomori-san, and Assistant Chief Inspector.”

Kaoru spoke up, her voice suddenly close. “Everyone, thank you for rescuing me. I’ll never forget how hard you worked.” And she expressed the same depth of gratitude, joining Koshijiro.

Immediately, he lifted his head. “No, Kaoru, get off the floor.”

“You did first, so I will once you’re done!”

“…You’re being stubborn.”

“Geez, I wonder where I get it from!”

And then, the whole room was laughing. Their wounds were tended to, covered in salve and bandages; rations and canteens were passed around. The three Naval ships cut across the blue ocean, sparkling under billowing white clouds. They were headed home. At long last, the nightmare had ended.

Chapter Text

When the constant motion finally ceased, the ship’s noise faded as well, save for Sagara’s voice ringing through the mess hall.

“So, I see them carrying the straw hats into town and my dad’s acting like I’m a total stranger. Of course, I give it right back! Then, he drags me along, pretending to treat me to lunch because I saved his other kids.” His story had occupied their attention, helping time pass. It had taken a while to get to this point, since he had gone into extensive detail of his fights on the road. He had encountered his sister first, accompanied by a younger brother who he’d never known. “I’ll wait to tell the next part. Have we stopped?”

Word came that the anchor had dropped, and collectively, they went up to the deck. They had safely arrived at the port, to an early evening. Lights flickered in the distant city streets. The sailors had set the ramp for them to disembark, talking about refueling.

Hayashi nodded at Koshijiro. “This is where we part ways. I may bring the family to visit Tokyo, when the girls are old enough to travel.”

“Please do. And thank you for all your help.” They bowed to each other, and Hayashi took over command of his vessel. One of the orders must have been to sound the ship’s bell as their group disembarked, because this was carried out by Ehara, with a glimmer of a friendly smile.

But they had one more thing to take care of. The criminals had been transferred to the military police, preparing for extradition. Woo was among them, his face still swollen from the beating. The very last in the line was Yukishiro. He was surrounded by officers, head lowered. That was Takani’s cue and she unlocked a drawer in her medicine box, retrieving the book from safekeeping. She handed it to Kaoru, glancing at Yukishiro with trepidation.

Kaoru quietly addressed Himura. “This is alright, isn’t it?”

“Yes…it should be.”

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, offering the diary. “Here…this belongs to you now. Please read it.”

His eyes were dull, sliding from her to Himura. However, he did accept, holding the spine with both cuffed hands. Then, he disappeared in a group of uniformed officers.

I’ll follow up on him. Koshijiro thought. Although Saito was confident that Yukishiro had lost his willpower, he still didn’t trust the young man. He watched the military police for a moment longer, before his daughter called out for him to catch up.

At the end of the docks, someone was waiting. The dark blue atmosphere of dusk couldn’t hide the figure’s tall stature, which didn’t budge as they approached. Hiko curtly nodded at his apprentice. “So, you’re breathing. The tanuki father made it sound like you were on the verge of death.”

“I certainly did not.” Koshijiro argued.

“Why else would you have written?”

Himura blinked in surprise. “Kamiya-dono, you wrote to him?”

“I was grasping for ideas on how to help you.” He deflected, suddenly embarrassed.

“But that was very kind of you, Kamiya-dono.” Himura gave a grateful smile. “Although, Shishou…when did you arrive?”

“This afternoon.”

“Then, you should stay with us!” Kaoru beamed. “Like I said before, you’re always welcome.”

Escaping attention, they took the back roads, the same route Koshijiro had used when he came home. Saito didn’t pass the gate, waiting outside for his family. Tokio returned the key with the update that it had been uneventful in their absence. Her gaze landed on Kaoru, her expression softening.

“I’m glad to see you’re well, Kaoru-san.”

“And I’m glad to be home. Will you join us for dinner?”

“I’m afraid not. Tsutomu’s bedtime is soon and he’ll be fussy. We’ll leave you to rest.” The toddler was in his father’s arms, a paternal gesture that had drawn everyone’s blatant staring. Tokio then added. “Eiji-kun has made a gift for you.”

“It matches the other one I made.” The boy muttered.

“Thank you, I can’t wait to see it.”

With the farewells finished, they settled inside. The house was soon filled with quiet conversation and rustling movements, of comforting sounds. Dinner was quickly made: tamagoyaki, both salty and sweet; stir-fried burdock with sesame seeds; eggplant cooked in ginger and bonito flakes; the remaining miso divided into soup bowls beside the rice portions. And it was the most delicious meal they’d had in over a week. Not a speck was left over, after multiple helpings were served.

Sagara had resumed his story, reaching the climax where he had defeated the gangsters and their leader, a former sumo wrestler. “I did restrain myself a little, so nobody was hurt too bad. But I had to get going, and my old man’s looking after my siblings.” Then, he yawned and that set off a chain reaction of more, especially among Yahiko and Makimachi.

Exhausted, they settled in early, but there was the inevitable question of space. The girls shared Kaoru’s room, Sagara offered to bunk with Himura, and Shinomori was going to stay with Yahiko. That left…

“This’ll do.” Hiko set his sloshing gourd on the floorboards, and unceremoniously planted himself in the free corner of Koshijiro’s bedroom.

Koshijiro suppressed a sigh. Well, he had asked for this, in a way. “If you need blankets, the closet is across the hall.”

In response, he drew his coat around himself and folded his arms. It made Koshijiro feel incredibly awkward about slipping under his own covers. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to drift off.

“Your words reached him.” It wasn’t exactly an expression of gratitude, but it was probably the closest the incorrigible man could muster.

“Himura-san has always been selfless. But you already knew that.”

“Hmph. It’s what instigated our argument, all those years ago. Not that he would ever have been content to stay in the mountains like I have, which doesn’t matter anyway. This place is his home now.”

The next thing Koshijiro knew, it was just before dawn. His throat was dry, and he slowly sat up, but he soon realized there was no need to be quiet. The corner was empty. He shuffled out of bed, and the draft told him the front door was open. He padded over, finding two familiar silhouettes at the threshold.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Shishou?”

Hiko was fully dressed, ready to depart. “Don’t fuss over me. Unless you want me to stay longer? The tanuki father behind you might disagree.”

Koshijro jolted but instead said. “Thank you for visiting. It was kind of you, and as Kaoru said, you’re welcome when you’re in the area again.”

“Do you plan to be?” Himura asked, a slight begrudging inflection in his tone.

“I have a feeling I will, and soon.” The man smirked, and with his coat sailing in the wind, he briskly strode off.

“Shishou is unpredictable as always.” A sigh escaped Himura. “This one apologizes if he disturbed you, Kamiya-dono.”

“Not at all. It wasn’t…terrible. Anyway, you should go back to sleep, Himura-san.” He gruffly said. Himura didn’t protest, only nodding, and Koshijiro watched him before returning to his own.

For now, they took the well-deserved time to recuperate. To ward off unwanted visitors, Koshijiro had taken a regular position at the front, letting in Tae and Tsubame. The morning sunshine cast over the porch, and Kaoru’s figure, enjoying the garden. Tsubame immediately cried, overwhelmed with relief, and tears glittered in Tae’s eyes.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She cupped Kaoru’s face, her voice wavering. “Oh, thank goodness. You’re alive.”

“Kaoru-san, you’re here…Yahiko-kun!” Tsubame warbled, at the sight of him. She grabbed his sleeve, almost afraid to let him go.

“See, Tsubame? I told you we’d be all together again.”

“You did…you really did…”

Then, Dr. Gensai arrived with his granddaughters, who immediately tackled Kaoru in their exuberance. Koshijiro provided an abbreviated version of events, while the doctor wrote a list of foods to recover her strength. Other than the bruises on her neck and mild weight loss, Kaoru was declared to be in good health.

“Nothing that plenty of quiet time won’t fix.” Dr. Gensai heartily said. “And the same goes for all of you!”

But they couldn’t hide forever, and Koshijiro expected questions would arise. He didn’t quite anticipate the large crowd at their front door, at the end of the week. The noise was reaching a fever pitch, it would disturb those sleeping.

“Please, I’ll explain.” He held up his hand, getting their attention. “Kaoru was abducted, by a group with ill intentions. They attempted to fake her death, but we discovered the truth and planned to recover Kaoru as soon as possible. To conceal our intentions from the enemy, we held a mock funeral. We have safely brought her home now. I humbly apologize for deceiving everyone.” At this, he lowered himself to his knees, bowing fully. “We are still recovering from this ordeal; I would like to ask for some privacy.”

The curiosity lingered, although people dispersed. The clamor gave way to sentiments of recovery, as well as how remarkable a tale it was. At the very end, a handful of people remained, who were instantly recognizable. The chief, Shinichi, Maekawa, and a couple of his students.

Maekawa strode towards Koshijiro, his expression caught between glad and indignant. “You devil! You fooled us all!”

“I’m sorry.” He allowed Maekawa to grab his collar and shake him vigorously. At least, it was reassuring that his friend was getting stronger.

“Well, I hope you’ve arrested the bastards who did it!”

“They’re in custody.”

However, Chief Uramura cleared his throat. “That is the other reason why we’re here.”

Foreboding washed over Koshijiro. “What’s the news?”

“Yukishiro Enishi has vanished.”

Inside the house, their group had to convene. It was a frustrating development; security personnel had fallen with the attacks, and the disappearance had occurred overnight. Yukishiro must have been long gone before anyone realized. Even if Woo was on a ship bound for Shanghai and the rest of the men had not broken out, it was a gross oversight. The chief then departed, saying he was already gathering a search party. Nevertheless, Koshijiro was chagrined.

“This one is not surprised. Enishi is resourceful.” Himura’s reaction was mild. “But he will not fight.”

“Just in case, I’m going to the station.” Koshijiro said. “Kaoru, will you stay at home?”

She had looked from Himura to him, before pressing her lips together. “Okay. I trust both of you.”

“Actually, I wanted to speak with you!” The voice drew their attention, and all eyes swiveled towards the figure in the back. Shinichi sat on his heels, lowering his head. “I’d like to become a student of Kamiya Kasshin!”

“W-what?! Really?”

“I saw Officer Kamiya and this young boy battle a cannon-armed man for the people of Tokyo. I’ve been thinking about that day over and over, and I want to join the dojo.”

Koshijiro had no idea Shinichi was interested. Did he have kenjutsu experience? But as long as he was motivated and willing to use a sword to protect life…that was certainly welcome.

The stunned silence was ended by a protest. “Young boy? I’m Myojin Yahiko, and I’m the first student. The second student’s spot is taken, but I guess you can be the third! I’ll show you around, I guess, as long as you can keep up.”

“Thank you, Yahiko-senpai!”

Yahiko puffed up at the new honorific. “Yeah, you’re welcome!” And then, they hurried off.

“Hold on, as the master, I have to evaluate you first!” Kaoru shook her head in disbelief. “Not that I’ll say no, but geez, they’re rushing.”

“Then, we should catch up with them, Kaoru-dono.” Himura stood, swaying a bit, and she placed her fingers on his forearm.

Koshijiro waited until the light touch stopped. “Tell Officer Shinichi that he needs your approval, Kaoru, but he is hardworking and courteous. I’ll support him as well.”

“Of course, Otou-san.”

Makimachi grinned, her braid whipping as she followed in their wake. “I’ll keep a lookout while you’re gone! And once Megumi’s done with clinic stuff, I’ll let her know too.”

Shinomori and Sagara chose to accompany Koshijiro. The former had offered to interrogate the guards. “We are relying on secondhand knowledge; it would be better to find out the truth from the sources.”

Sagara nodded. “Yeah, we can find out if they’re slacking off. I did see the Hiruma brothers in Nagano.”

Koshijiro halted. “Weren’t they supposed to be in prison?”

“That’s what I thought!”

What were they even paying security for?! “…I’m counting on you, Shinomori-san.”

The man nodded impassively, though Sagara raised an eyebrow. “Hey, what about me? Wait a second, let me join you, Aoshi.”

“You can, as long as you don’t interfere. You may even learn something.”

“Was that a joke?” He bumped his fist against Shinomori’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s do it.”

“What will you do, Kamiya-san?”

“Either Yukishiro is dead by those who wish to silence him, or he was freed by those loyal to him. But the starting point is inspecting where he was.”

The jail’s workers flinched under their collective scrutiny, but not much fuss was made. Shinomori’s cool demeanor and Sagara’s knuckle cracking herded them into docility, sparing one man to fumble with a set of keys. Koshijiro glanced at the adjacent cell, noticing it was empty.

“Was there anyone next to him?”

“An old fellow, who’s been here occasionally for disturbing the peace. He’s not right in the head from previous reports, never given us a name. But he was out of here by last night.”

Koshijro frowned as he carefully scanned. The lock was intact, suggesting it had been picked. Otherwise, the interior was bare, no sign of struggle or bloodshed, but a sweet smell was oddly out of place. White plums. Now that he recalled, it was reminiscent of the night when Kaoru was kidnapped. And Kaoru’s clothes from the island carried that same scent. Did Yukishiro wear perfume, a very feminine one at that? Was it associated with the deceased Tomoe?

He circled both cells; there was a leak in the ceiling, but hardly a viable escape. The bars were perfectly straight, and the bricks weren’t loose. He went into the main corridor, noting a creaky floorboard. Otherwise, it was a clear path to the outside, as long as someone could be silent. It wouldn’t have been a challenge for Yukishiro. Koshijiro then proceeded to walk a full lap around the building. Blind spots abounded, and the cover of night would have helped.

No bloodstains though, so Yukishiro was likely alive, yet without a trace. Where would he go? He didn’t have a weapon; the tachi had gone to China, part of a reparation. Koshijiro sighed…and bumped into a figure. As an apology left his mouth, he realized it was a stranger he knew. Worn clothes, a thick beard, and a repeated phrase.

“It’s all good, it’s all good.” Despite his unkempt appearance, the odor around him was cloyingly sweet. White plums.

Koshijiro reared back. “You.”

“Thank you, sir.” The man bowed his head, his glasses slipping off his nose. “And also, I’m deeply sorry for the trouble my son caused.”

Realization struck him. “You are Yukishiro Enishi’s father. Where is he?”

“Hm, not here, but we won’t bother you any longer.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was planning to visit the man who was there during my daughter’s death.”

Koshijiro’s vision wavered. He gripped the man’s shoulder, upon a disarming pressure point. “If you hurt Himura-san, I-”

“No, no! I thought I would bring him a small gift and sit for a while, but it wasn’t needed. You were at his side, after all.”

Embarrassed, he let go. “Oh. I apologize.”

“You’re a very good father. Much better than I was!” He chuckled but the sound was sad.

“You still have time to make things right. As long as you live, you can have another chance.” He echoed his wife’s words, from long ago.

The man gave an uncertain smile. “Kind words. From a kind person.”

“Not nearly as kind as you think.” He paused. “I don’t think I should encounter your son in the near future. Some things cannot be forgiven easily.”

“I understand. It was hard for me too, to forgive. Yes…it takes time.”

Koshijiro stiffly nodded. “Then, goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” And the elder Yukishiro shuffled away, melting into the crowd.

Koshijiro was still standing in place when Sagara jostled him. “Uh-oh, did he turn into a statue again?”

“Is something wrong?” Shinomori inquired.

“No, I’m fine. I had an unexpected conversation, but everything will hopefully turn out alright.”

The yellow chrysanthemums were blooming, and four little bouquets were appropriate offerings.

“You’re right. This is weird.” Kaoru knelt before the grave marker bearing her name.

“We’ll remove it soon.” Koshijiro said. “We won’t need it for many years to come.” Many, many years.

“Same for yours. How quickly can we get rid of them?”

“It will probably be around the same time as Reijo is given her own plot.”

Kaoru nodded somberly. “I heard she was identified? I feel so sorry for her.” The girl had been called Hanako, a slum beggar who had unfortunately remained at a toddler’s level of growth. The last time she was seen, an elderly lady had noted she was coughing. Whether she had died from illness or the hands of evil, it would never be confirmed.

“We can pray for her as well.” They bowed their heads, and Kaoru clasped her hands together.

Koshijiro offered silent gratitude to Reijo, with the hope she could rest in peace. Gein was dead and wouldn’t harm anyone else. Then, he turned his thoughts to his wife. Forgive me, Kyoko. Our daughter was in danger, and I swear that this will never happen again.

When they were finished, Kaoru remarked. “You know, while I was on the island, I dreamt of Okaa-san. She was standing under a wisteria tree, and she gave me a branch. She kissed my forehead and told me ‘Stay strong’. It felt so real.” She pressed a fingertip to the corner of her eye but she smiled. “Like she really was with me.”

Those were the same exact words in his mind, when they realized Kaoru was alive. He had been by Kyoko’s picture on the altar, and she had carried that hope to their girl. The wisteria must have been her personal touch, a symbol of resilience. Koshijiro’s heart ached. “I knew she’d watch over you.”

The walk home did tire her out though, and he encouraged her to take a nap. He then had to write a report, documenting the closure of the Jinchuu case. He didn’t really like the name, given that it was Yukishiro’s term, but it had stuck in the office. It was close to dinnertime when the last page was filled, and Kaoru knocked on his door.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked.

“Oh, yes. We’re eating mackerel pike tonight. Daikon and sweet potatoes too, since Kenshin requested them. And, well,” Color rose to her cheeks. “Kenshin wants to visit Kyoto for a day trip, and he invited me to join him.”

“…Do you want to go?”

Kaoru nodded, her gaze steady. “I’d like to pay my respects to Tomoe-san too.”

“Then, I’ll come along to chaperone.”

He expected the usual protest, but instead, she said. “We’re taking the first train. I’ll start packing.” She walked away, and he was left alone, brow furrowed.

No ‘you don’t have to’. No ‘nothing will happen’. This was clearly significant. He dropped his pen. If only I heard what they said to each other!

The plan was also conveyed over their meal of grilled fish. Himura was nonchalant. “We will return the day after tomorrow.”

Sagara made a suggestive wiggling gesture with his intact fingers. “An overnight trip, huh?”

“Stay at the Aoiya!” Makimachi ordered. “Jiiya will give you the best rooms, and ask if the wagashi shops have reopened. There’ll be mushi-yokan with chestnuts and persimmons, and inoko mochi that look like cute little pigs! I’m craving them already…”

Kaoru couldn’t resist teasing her. “Would you like to join us, Misao-chan?”

“Oh, um, Aoshi-sama wants to see the seven shrines, the ones dedicated to all the gods of fortune!” She grasped his arm with fervor. He shot her a glance but she continued. “And we haven’t done that yet, so we’ll stay in Tokyo for a while longer.”

It was an obvious ploy to spend more time together, but Shinomori didn’t refute the plan. “It is as Misao says. We will be here when you return.”

“I’ll guard the dojo.” Yahiko offered.

“Thank you, Yahiko.” Koshijiro added. “And please, be kind to Officer Shinichi. That’s what a good senpai would do.”

“Don’t worry, Kamiya-san! I’ll show him the ropes, and make sure he drinks water.” His eyes lit up. “Wait, can I use your book?”

“Yes, and remember to put it back.” After dinner, he showed Yahiko where the book was kept in a drawer, under the family altar. The boy flipped through the pages, then abruptly stopped. He jabbed his thumb at the change in handwriting.

“Hey, Kaoru wrote in here! It’s the lesson plan for beginners.”

Koshijiro peered over his spiky hair. “It seems she did. That will be very helpful.”

“Can I add to this too?”

“You can write separately on different paper, and have Kaoru and I read it first. When you are master of the school, you will inherit the book.”

He grudgingly agreed. “Okay. Guess I’ll wait. My technique will be perfected then…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing! Good night, Kamiya-san!” Flustered, he snapped the book shut, set it in the drawer, and raced in the direction of his room. Well, he had years to go, but he would become an excellent head instructor with plenty of experience.

The thought was pleasant and Koshijiro headed for his own bed. He turned the corner and noticed his daughter, listening to Takani.

“-salve containers. I included bandages if anything opens up, and more aspirin only when the pain is unbearable.” She gave the bundle to Kaoru, with a firm voice. “Remember what I told you, the last time we were in Kyoto. He won’t tell you if he’s on the brink.”

“Of course, Megumi. I won’t ever forget.” She went to pack it in her belongings, and Koshijiro approached.

“We appreciate it, Takani-san. Were you speaking of Himura-san?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Takani frowned. “Ken-san’s body isn’t ideal for his sword style; in a matter of years, he’ll be unable to fight. It’s the toll that Hiten Mitsurugi has taken. If he overexerts himself again…I really believed it was the end during this nightmarish ‘judgment’. But like I said to Kaoru, she cannot be weak for his sake. She’s the one who has to help him, if he’s occupied helping others.”

Koshijiro hadn’t realized that was the state of Himura’s health, but it made sense. An expert swordsman could easily develop incurable joint pains. With the physical prowess of Hiten Mitsurugi, it must have accelerated for Himura. “I understand. We’ll keep close eyes on him.”

“I know. So, I’m relieved.” Her voice fell to a murmur before picking up again. “I’m off to bed, I have an early start. I’m working with a midwife tomorrow.”

“That’s good. I hope you learn as much as you can.”

“I intend to.” By this point, Kaoru had returned, and Takani squeezed her shoulder. “Safe travels, and I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you, Megumi. Otou-san, did you need anything?” The bruises around her neck were a faint greenish color, which was better.

“Nothing at the moment.” He patted her head, smiling at her pout. “Good night.”

The train was slightly delayed, but they reached Kyoto without further issue. They arrived at the Aoiya first, to drop off their belongings, and were greeted raucously by Okina. He was dismayed by the absences of Makimachi and Shinomori, unaware of the glances and smirks of the other Oniwaban.

“We’re back in business, and fall is a popular season! Your rooms will have fantastic views, you’ll see what I mean. Tell Misao and Aoshi to hurry up, the Okashira’s leadership is sorely missing!” Amidst his complaints, he did provide directions to the nearest flower seller.

Yellow chrysanthemums were also abundant here. Himura purchased a small bucket, and Kaoru had brought a short letter. She was a little shy but summarized the contents. “I wanted to let her know that her diary is with her brother. And I’m grateful that her memory protected me during Jinchuu and on the island. That’s pretty much it.” Her cheeks were rosy, and Himura smiled fondly at her.

It was a kind gesture and it reminded Koshijiro. He carefully broached the subject. “There is something I must share.” Then, he told them about his two encounters with the elder Yukishiro. “I should have, but I never asked if he wanted to meet you, Himura-san.”

But he shook his head. “It’s alright, Kamiya-dono. Enishi needs him now. Time has begun moving for Enishi again, and he will have to consider how to atone for his actions. Not with death, but his own answer. His father can help, but they have spent many years apart, so it will take time.” He navigated the path to the cemetery, only slowing when they approached.

The grave had already been cleaned, arranged with two bundles of white cosmos, but the centerpieces were a small glass bottle and a hairpin. Koshijiro recognized the latter.

Kaoru leaned close to the bottle. “It’s white plums. Do you think they visited?”

“It’s the same hairpin that was bought in Tokyo.”

Himura had been still, and he closed his eyes. “If they have each other, Tomoe will smile upon them. This one is content with such knowledge.”

He tucked their offering among the others and Kaoru lit the incense. Then, it was silent as they prayed for the deceased Tomoe, for her to rest in peace. Koshijiro extended his thoughts to the father and son, to find peace within themselves. It was not an easy thing by any means, but if they could start there…

“I hope that was enough.” Kaoru said.

“What did you say?” Himura gently inquired.

“Um, thank you, and I’m sorry. Kenshin, what about you?”

“The same as Kaoru-dono. Sorry, and thank you.” After a moment, he added. “And goodbye.”

The significance was not lost on Koshijiro. Himura was expressing that he was ready to move on. Kaoru had recognized it too, looking softly at him. The wind sifted through the surrounding trees, and crackling leaves fluttered.

Himura offered his hand towards her. “Shall we go, Kaoru-dono?”

She readily accepted, her eyes shining. Koshijiro didn’t move immediately, watching for a few moments, how the two of them took each step together. Then, Kaoru’s ponytail shifted, and his stare moved to the blue sky. He feigned interest in the clouds; he sensed that she was looking back, but he continued to gaze upwards.

“It’s a nice day. You two lead on, I’ll be taking in the scenery.”

So, if they continued to hold hands the entire way, he wouldn’t know. After all, his eyes were elsewhere.

Chapter Text

The return home was uneventful, and as the train passed by the surrounding scenery, the landscape was deepening in shades of autumn. The three of them were laden with seasonal gifts from the Aoiya too: boxes of sweets, paper, inkstones, and matcha. Business was clearly good. They were enthusiastically told to return for a full vacation, and while it was definitely a pleasant idea, they needed a break.

“It’ll be October in a week, and that means your birthday, Otou-san.” Kaoru turned to him, beaming. “What would you like?”

“A peaceful day.” He dryly said. “Except that, all my wishes have been fulfilled.”

“How do you usually celebrate, Kamiya-dono?” Himura was sitting across from them. Since yesterday, he had adhered to the arm’s length distance from Kaoru, but their shared glances were telling enough.

However, Koshijiro wanted to be home first, before further discussion.

As for Himura’s question, he answered. “Mostly, it’s quiet. We tend to the family graves and if there’s an event in town, we’ll attend. We have dinner together.”

“Otou-san’s favorite foods, especially takikomi gohan.” Kaoru confided. The seasonal dish made the most of fall’s bounty, cooking an assortment of ingredients in broth and rice.

“Kaoru also enjoys it.”

“Father and daughter have similar tastes then.” Himura grinned. The conversation turned to their favorite ingredients; it appeared Himura was going to remember them. The smile didn’t leave his face as they disembarked.

A partly cloudy sky was over the house. The main gate was undergoing repairs but the new beams looked sturdy. Red maple leaves were strewn across the front yard, as if to celebrate their safe return.  Then, Yahiko barreled out of the house to greet them, and the rest followed in the exclamation.

“Welcome back!”

After the entire ordeal, a normal day was a blessing. Koshijiro dusted the altar, and bowed to Kyoko’s portrait. When he lifted his head, Kaoru was at his side, beaming in a rosy kimono.

“Happy birthday, Otou-san!” She hugged him, and he patted her head.

“Thank you, Kaoru. After breakfast, we’ll head to the cemetery.” Both his and Kaoru’s headstones had finally been removed, and he wanted to see for himself.

“Kenshin wants to come too.”

He wasn’t the only one; the others also hovered by the gate. Other than Shinomori’s flitting gaze and Sagara casually rolling his shoulders, they seemed relaxed. However, the experience was too fresh to lower their guards yet. The group stopped by Reijo’s new grave first, spending a few somber minutes of silence.

Makimachi tried for positivity. “It’s not a bad spot at all, the shade is cooler.”

Surprisingly, Yahiko then added. “My parents’ is under a tree.”

“Oh, really? Is it the same cemetery?”

“Yeah. Their grave is over there.” He pointed eastward, his face giving nothing away.

“Would you like to visit?” Kaoru gently asked, and although he shrugged, he had already picked up his feet. They followed him to a small plot, where the headstone read ‘Myoujin’. Small weeds had sprouted, and Yahiko hastily tore them up.

“I haven’t been here in a while, it was too crazy…”

“May we help you?” Himura offered. “And we should pay our respects as well.”

The answer was a small nod, with reddening ears. Since he didn’t protest, they all took part in the cleanup. The result was much tidier, with the additions of two sticks of incense and a wreath of susuki grass crafted by Takani. In a choked voice, Yahiko said. “It looks great. Thanks.” He clasped his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

Koshijiro also lowered his gaze, praying. Thank you for giving Yahiko life; he carries your family name with such pride. He’s a promising young man, and we’ll do our best to guide and care for him.

Once the Kamiya family graves were tended to, they headed downtown. It was Koshijiro’s plan to revisit everyone who attended the mock funeral, and return the kindness in some form, whether it was through purchasing their market wares or sneaking in a new candle for the longer nights. And nobody failed to be surprised at Kaoru’s healthy appearance. Each stop seemed to heighten the enjoyment; it then became another kind of game to speed away before the recipients realized the extra change or the gift. Watching the others gasp for breath and laugh, Koshijiro couldn’t help but smile.

Lunch was a quick meal of cold soba, given how much they’d been running around. The handmade noodles were springy and pleasant to chew, the dipping sauce was well-balanced. The bowls were empty in no time, and they were off again at a more leisurely pace.

A play was advertised in the nearby theater, and they were lucky enough to find good seats. It was an adaptation of a book that Koshijiro had brought Kyoko long ago, and although he vaguely recalled the main plot points, it was refreshing to watch in person. They were all attentive to the performance, especially Kaoru and Makimachi. The finale was a heartfelt reunion of the two main lovers, to the entire theater’s applause.

At this point, it was sunset, and they walked home under a glowing orange sky. Kaoru turned to him. “By the way, Otou-san, we’re going to have some visitors when we’re back.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t worry, you know who they are!”

Noisy conversation was coming from the dojo, and when they entered, there was a loud cheer. Smiles abounded from their friends: Maekawa and his wife, Dr. Gensai with his family, a handful of kenjutsu students and other local teachers, the group of fifteen rookie officers, and even Tsunan whose dark eye circles had somewhat lightened.

Tae and Tsubame were near the door, ushering them in. The former explained. “I spoke with Kaoru about planning this. It seems everybody accepted their invitations, I hope we’re not too intrusive.”

“Not at all. It’s a shame this wasn’t at the Akabeko. Perhaps, next year.” It really wasn’t a bother, although it would’ve been nice to send more business to Tae. He took his seat, noticing that his daughter and Himura had already found cushions next to each other.

“Speech! Speech!” Sagara hollered, and Koshijiro flashed him a disgruntled expression. The chant was picked up by Yahiko and the rookies, so with a sigh, Koshijiro stood. A sake cup was pushed into his hand, as a hush fell over the dojo.

…I don’t like public speeches.

“Firstly, thank you for being here. It’s been a harrowing few weeks, but your kindness and support were vital to our success. I’m glad to share this evening with all of you. Thank you.” He lifted the sake cup in a toast, and everyone followed suit. “Now, let’s eat.”

“Cheers!”

Then, it was a whirl of commotion, conversation interweaving with the sounds of heart eating. There was takikomi gohan, and Koshijiro’s first mouthful had a gingko nut to his pleasant surprise. Seared tuna, vegetables in sesame sauce, and agedashi tofu rounded out the rest of the menu.

He looked across the room, from Sagara leading some of the rookies in a rowdy offkey song, to Takani’s obviously wry responses and Shinomori’s attentive nods to Makimachi’s excitable mood, to Yahiko dramatically regaling a wide-eyed Tsubame. Finally, he saw Kaoru, helping Himura on his recovering side, to make sure everything was in reach for him. He caught Himura’s lowered gaze on the back of her head, the smile at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, the scar was practically invisible. And the memory of a certain talk by the river popped into the forefront of Koshijiro’s mind…

He downed his sake cup in one shot. Just for tonight, he would evade the subject entirely, the looming reality of what would happen next.

But soon after, on a day they spent at the Oguni clinic for their check-ups, Takani announced. “Since everyone is on the mend, I think it’s time. I’m returning to Aizu, to join a clinic.”

The others were clearly stunned by the news, while Koshijiro said. “I haven’t received another response yet from the Aizu police, regarding your lost mother and brothers.”

“It isn’t just for them. I want to move forward, and I know this is the right step for me. I’m saying goodbye to the rest of the clinic patients and tying up loose ends, before my train leaves in a week.” She appeared resolute, and the confidence in her face was apparent.

“Still, it’s so sudden…” Kaoru trailed off. “Then, do you need help moving?”

“I don’t have many things, but thank you for the offer.”

“It’s not that far anyway.” Sagara pointed out. “You can get there by nightfall.”

“Only if you sprint at full speed, and only with your reckless behavior.” Takani tartly replied, as Himura lifted his head.

“At the very least, we can have one last meal together, as a send-off.”

“Yes, that sounds like a plan.” Then, her gaze clouded over. “There is something you have to know, Ken-san.”

However, he seemed to be expecting it. “It is about this one’s health.” Takani affirmed it, and this was regarding the toll of Hiten Mitsurugi on his body, which was news to everyone else except Kaoru and Koshijiro. It didn’t faze Himura and he wasn’t regretful either.

But Takani then said. “If I had to estimate, in four to five years, you won’t be able to use Hiten Mitsurugi at all.”

Silence fell over the group, but Himura only nodded. “Thank you, Megumi-dono.” He didn’t say much more on the walk home, merely enjoying the brisk wind. His expression was contemplative. It was a bitter twist; his new vow was about using both sword and heart to live on. What would he do?

Koshijiro was mulling over this, as he prepared for a late work shift, covering a sick colleague. He stepped into the front yard, the fallen leaves crunching under his shoes, and noticed he wasn’t alone. “Hello, Himura-san.”

His hands were folded in his sleeves, and he softly said. “Kamiya-dono. May this one accompany you to the station?”

“Of course.” It wasn’t until they were on the main path that he ventured to ask. “Is there something the police can assist you with?”

“This one is actually going to speak with Saito-dono.” He revealed a sealed letter between his fingers. “Are they still searching for Enishi?”

“No, the trail has gone cold, from our standpoint here. But the chief had mentioned wanting to repay you for your deeds, and offering you a position as backup in emergencies.” Himura had become a minor celebrity among Koshijiro’s coworkers, given all that he’d done for the safety of the public.

“The payment is not necessary, but this one would like to participate in emergencies.” He conceded. “For as long as this one can wield a sword. After that…”

“Then, what about a shinai or bokken?”

His eyes widened. “Oro?”

Koshijiro pressed on. “It would be a way for you to keep your new vow, while minimizing the physical stress to your body. If you’re willing to learn Kamiya Kasshin, to continue protecting life, we would be happy to have you as a student.” In fact, Kaoru would be ecstatic.

“That is…” Himura was struggling for words, his voice shaky and uncertain. “This one will likely never be a master of Kamiya Kasshin.”

“And you don’t need to be. Even learning the defensive maneuvers would be enough. But you don’t have to decide now.” They had arrived at the station, and Koshijiro directed them away from the bustling employees and straight to Saito’s desk.

Saito barely acknowledged their entrance, pulling a sheet from a moderate stack of paperwork in monotonous routine. He wasn’t alone, a familiar tall individual sitting in the opposite chair. Free of any bandages, Sawagejo raised a hand in greeting. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has. How are you doing?”

“Back to normal, which means I’m going on another assignment soon.” He nodded towards Saito.

“Not as intensive as recent events, but an adequate investigation. So, why are you two here?”

Himura stepped forward, handing over the letter. Their gazes locked for an instant, and then, Saito perfunctorily opened it. The message must have been short, because he tossed the paper on his desk and narrowed his eyes.

“Why now?”

“This one believes there will not be a better opportunity in the future. It is the final chance to settle our dispute, as former Ishin Shishi and Shinsengumi, for good.” With that, Himura bowed. “Kamiya-dono, this one will return home first.”

After he left, Sawagejo asked Saito. “Did he challenge you to a fight?”

“One last duel. In a place known to both of us, at midnight. But you won’t be there, get moving. Kamiya, wait.” He ignored the griping of his new subordinate, waiting until the door shut again. “This time, he’s serious.”

“Yes, he is.” It made sense to Koshijiro, that Himura would request this fight before it was too late. However, he couldn’t repress his concern; neither of them would have any reservations in a true duel.

“Hmph. And there’s no outside interference, like the previous time. Unless, you decide otherwise?”

“The dispute is between you two, but I hope you will receive what you want from it.” Slightly irked, Koshijiro added. “Is there anything else you would like to know?”

He laid a hand upon the hilt of his katana. “No. You’re dismissed.”

The rest of the shift was quiet, but Koshijiro purposefully stayed longer, late into the evening. He did not notice Saito leave. The clock hands aligned at midnight, without further sign of the assistant chief. An hour dragged in excruciating silence. At last, his impatience got the better of him, and he headed to the small office.

Saito was still there, smoking by the window. His eyes bored into Koshijiro, unimpressed. “Of course, you stayed.”

“I wasn’t planning on following.” He defended. “But it is past the time for your duel.”

“I never said I accepted the challenge.”

Actually, that was true. “…This chance will not happen again.”

“I’m aware. But I wanted to settle the score with Hitokiri Battousai, and after seeing him, I realize that possibility has vanished. I will have no joy in fighting the man he is now. The hunt has ended.” He blew out a dense stream of smoke, obscuring his features. Barely audible, he gave a low resigned utterance. “Fool.”

The rivalry may not have culminated in a bloody battle, but that was perfectly fine with Koshijiro. “Did you find what you wanted, at least?”

“I had the answer a while ago.” He extinguished the cigarette. “Your shift is long over and the weather is growing colder. It’s already snowing in Hokkaido.”

Koshijiro took it as an order to go home, although he didn’t expect Saito to lock up as well. The night air was bracing, the moon high overhead. “Then, good evening, Saito-san.”

“Don’t look so relieved, Kamiya. You have your work cut out for you, in this department and your dojo. Good luck.” His voice was sardonic, but in the time of their acquaintance, it was the most well-intentioned statement yet.

“In that case, I wish you the same in your mission to slay evil.” He paused. “And in carrying the memories of your fallen brethren. They were truly fortunate indeed, to have your loyalty.”

Saito didn’t verbally respond, giving Koshijiro a long stare. Then, he curtly nodded and went on, straight as a rod, in focused pursuit of the absolute justice he desired.

The house was mostly dark, save for a lantern in the dining room. Kaoru was mending an article of clothing, probably a haori, and she looked up with a smile. “Otou-san, welcome back.”

“Thank you, Kaoru. You’re still awake?”

“I’m not tired. I was waiting for you and Kenshin.” She set her needle aside, and her expression was thoughtful. “He’s been gone since dusk, and…he told us where he’d be.”

“You don’t have to worry. The matter was concluded before it even began.”

She exhaled. “Oh, good. Did you want some tea before bed?”

“I’ll have a cup, but I’ll stay with you as well.” He sat on the cushion across, noticing the haori was about Yahiko’s size while she retrieved the tea.

“Otou-san?”

“Hm?”

“Um…well, I was wondering.” She had also taken a cup for herself, staring into the bottom. Haltingly, she said. “I know your first impression wasn’t great, with the arm’s length rule, and how everything’s occurred since then, but…what do you think about Kenshin?”

He hadn’t expected her question, and he steadied his grip on his drink. “Kaoru, I don’t hold your capture against him.”

“Geez, Otou-san, I could tell that much.” She sipped from the top, before resuming her mending. “But if there’s anything you don’t approve of him, for a valid reason, I want to hear it from you.”

This was treading into the territory Koshijro was wary of, and he cleared his throat. “I see. Then, nothing.”

Her mouth fell open. “What? Really?”

“He’s a swordsman, with the protective, honorable, and courageous traits of the best. He’s kindhearted and responsible around the house. And…he deeply respects and cares for you. I’ve noticed how you make each other smile.” Embarrassed, he glanced away, only to face Kyoko’s altar picture. He could blame the late hour for his rambling. “I did misunderstand at the beginning, but perhaps, deep down, I anticipated it would come to this. Your mother and I always wanted you to choose for love, so…if he is your choice, I won’t disagree.”

“A-and the rule?”

Then, they heard the door slide, and Himura shuffled in. “This one is home.”

“Welcome home, Kenshin!” Kaoru immediately stood, her cheeks a little flushed. “You must be cold, we have fresh tea. If you’re hungry, I can make chazuke.”

“Tea would be enough, thank you.” He joined them at the table, and he peered at the fabric. “Is this for Yahiko?”

“It is, he’s growing out of his clothes. My first student has to look presentable, after all.”

“He will certainly appreciate feeling warmer too.” The atmosphere between the two was very cozy, soothing even.

The shadows shifted, and the lantern illuminated the looming figure of Shinomori. “You’ve both returned.”

Kaoru gasped. “Sorry, if we woke you.”

“I don’t sleep heavily in the first place.” He did sit down and take a teacup though, his voice hesitant. “Himura. How was your challenge?”

Despite how tired he must have been, he offered a gentle smile. “It seems this one has been given up on. Saito-dono did not accept.” He met Koshijiro’s gaze.

“No, it appears he lost interest.” The conversation lasted a few minutes longer, a mundane talk of what to eat for their dinner with Takani, before they went to bed for the remaining hours of the night.

They had a lazy morning in, and it was shaping to be a similar afternoon when Makimachi declared they had visitors. “Eiji-kun, is that you?!” She had met the boy with Himura, on the road to Kyoto. Her eyes then boggled. “And the…the Bodhisattva…”

He wasn’t alone, accompanied by Tokio and a bigger Tsutomu now standing beside her. He looked rather serious. “We’re here to say goodbye.”

Tokio explained. “My husband’s duties have abruptly called us elsewhere. He’s gone ahead to our new home, but I wanted to thank you for your friendship over the past few months. We wish you well.” She bowed, and the boys copied her. “If our paths cross again one day, I hope it will be under more peaceful circumstances.”

“Agreed, and please take care.” Koshijiro responded in kind.

Makimachi couldn’t resist inquiring. “And where are you moving to?”

“That would be a secret.” Tokio mildly answered. “But to you, Takani-san, send my regards to Lady Teru in Aizu.”

“Absolutely. If you happen to be near our home province, send a message.” She provided the name of her future workplace, a large clinic in the heart of Aizu. The trio departed, not lingering a spare minute and without looking backwards.

“Sent his family to deliver the news, while he stalks off in the middle of the night.” Sagara cracked. “I wonder where he went.”

In understanding of what Saito had said, Koshijiro turned his gaze to the north. “I suppose, a place fitting for wolves.”

At the station, Saito’s desk was completely cleared, as if he had never worked there. A short notice had been given to the chief, who announced that Assistant Chief Inspector Fujita had been reassigned by higher-ups. For Koshijiro, he privately said. “Also, he left an evaluation for you.”

“…What did it say?”

Chief Uramura only smiled, handing over the paper. “I think it’s best that you read it yourself.” The words were shockingly generous.

Remarks on Officer Kamiya Koshijiro: An interferer with many personal attachments, but more skill and discipline with one arm than anyone else in this department.

The end of the week drew near, and the day before Takani’s departure, Shinomori spoke to Makimachi. “It has been long enough, for the Aoiya to be without us. It’s the right time for us to leave. The first train leaves at dawn tomorrow.”

“Eh?! Tomorrow? But we still haven’t seen Asakusa and Ginza…”

“The ground will soon freeze in the mountains. We need to find a place with more sun for them.”

It clicked for her. “Oh! You’re right.” She held up her hands in apology. “Sorry, sightseeing will have to wait for next time! We have to go home with the others.” They could only be Shikijou, Hyottoko, Beshimi, and Hann’ya. But it was good, that they would rest easier in Kyoto before the snow fell.

While she and Shinomori packed their things, Koshijiro and Kaoru went to the market, buying castella for the pair to take to the Aoiya. It was a short errand; on the way back, Kaoru said forlornly. “Everybody’s leaving at once…”

“It feels sudden, but Takani-san will learn new treatments in Aizu, and Makimachi-san is the leader of the Oniwabanshuu, with Shinomori-san supporting her. They’ll grow for the better, and so will we.” Koshijiro responded. Still, it didn’t totally dispel her mood.

In the foyer, Makimachi was tying off her packed bag. When asked about Shinomori’s whereabouts, she informed them. “Aoshi-sama and Himura are having tea. Something long overdue, apparently. But Kaoru, you’ll write, won’t you? And I can come visit when it’s springtime?”

“Yes, of course! I want to stay in touch too.” The girls interlaced fingers, palm to palm.

“We can practice spar again, that was fun in Kyoto! And we’ll both do our best, me with Aoshi-sama and you with Himura.”

“Misao!”

“Right, I forgot Kamiya-san’s here.” She grinned.

Flustered, Kaoru made the excuse to cut slices of castella. However, the tea talk must have ended. They weren’t acting differently, the taller man unreadable as ever and Himura with an easygoing smile as he took a piece of cake.

Dinner was at sunset, golden light pouring over the autumn foliage. Sagara had procured a grill, so they had a raucous time, cooking over the charcoal smoke. Sanma with salt, chicken skewers, mushrooms, cubes of pumpkin. Yahiko raided the kitchen for leftovers, eager to add onigiri to the mix. Kaoru found the sweet potatoes at the last minute, and she was thrilled by Himura’s wide smile as he bit into the first one. Everyone had their fill, encouraging each other to try a freshly grilled item. Koshijiro put their happy faces to memory, as he ate in contentment. At the end, Takani served tea, and Makimachi opened a box of sweets, sharing that the cinnamon-flavored yatsuhashi were Shinomori’s favorite. The fire dwindled to embers, and all too quickly, the night passed.

The sun hadn’t even risen over Shinbashi Station, yet the train was boarding early. Shinomori dipped his head. “Thank you for hosting us. It is one of many things we owe you. And we can have tea again another time.”

Makimachi gazed at each of them in turn, but she put on a brave smile. “We’ll send plenty of letters, and New Year’s gifts too! See you later, everyone!”

Then, they had to board, their figures intent on their destination in the mountains. In a matter of minutes, the train began to pull away, and Makimachi exuberantly waved from the window; as for Shinomori, he granted the flicker of a smile.

Takani’s coach arrived later that morning, the safe passage obtained by Dr. Gensai as a parting gift. Yahiko carried her bags to the opposite seat, not even struggling with the weight. “This is nothing, you saved me from poisoning that first time.”

She had a bittersweet smile. “Ah, yes. It felt like so long ago, but it really hasn’t been. I’m grateful for how kind you all have been. Please take care.”

“You’re always welcome at the Kamiya dojo, and thank you for looking after our injuries.” Koshijiro passed her a slip of paper. “This is the info for the Aizu police, they’re aware of your arrival. We wish you well.”

“I won’t stop looking. Once I’m settled in, I’ll expand my search.” She promised. “Ken-san, remember what I said. If you feel anything wrong at all, please send a telegram to the new clinic and I’ll rush over.”

“Thank you, but this one will try not to disrupt your work.” He kindly said. “You have the important duty of caring for those who need your expertise. Do your best.”

“Yes, I will.” Then, she turned to Kaoru, lifting a familiar medicine chest. “And this is for you. These are the prescriptions and medicines for emergency treatment, everything’s labeled with the correct dosing, and…look at you, you’re so gloomy.” She tutted.

Kaoru was downcast, now that the moment of parting was here. “I just hate saying goodbye, and to do it again and again…”

“Aw, come on, Jou-chan.” Sagara clapped a hand on the top of her ponytail. “Whether it’s Aizu or the Aoiya or at Tomoe’s grave or even just the dojo, we can visit each other any time. This isn’t goodbye forever.”

Takani’s eyebrows shot up, as she concealed a smile behind her hand. “You really do say nice things sometimes.”

“I say nice things all the time.”

She let out a short laugh. “If you’re ever in Aizu and need your left hand treated, I can see you as well.”

“Thanks.”

“With that said…” Takani promptly thrust the chest to Kaoru, who leaned forward with the burden. “But the most important medicine for Ken-san isn’t in there. It’s your smile, the smile of the one he’s chosen. Not me, not Tomoe-san, but you. And maybe, it could even heal a scar.”

“…I understand. Megumi, let’s meet again someday soon.”

Her countenance lightened, and she set her shoulders in confidence. “Well then, everyone. Goodbye.” And then, she elegantly climbed into the coach. The driver snapped the reins, joining the bustling crowds.

They drifted away from the station, and Yahiko pointed out a restaurant, a line already starting to form. “We came all this way, so can we eat a Western lunch?”

But before anyone could reply, shouts broke the air. “Found him! Stop that spiky-haired bastard!” Two officers in unfamiliar uniforms were running in their direction. Were they referring to Sagara?

Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “What is this?!” She pointed to a nearby wanted poster, with a surprisingly accurate portrait of Sagara.

Himura took it down, reading the text. “For the crimes of disrupting the peace, damaging the silk trade, assaulting Magistrate Fudosawa…”

“Damn, I didn’t realize they chased me all the way from Nagano.”

They stared at him, and Koshijiro recalled his story. “When you fought alongside your father, against those corrupt individuals…”

“Yeah, they were linked to the Ishin Shishi.” He stepped forward, closing the distance to the men and in a blur of motion, knocked them out. But it wasn’t over. A block away, more uniformed men were shoving through the pedestrians. “And they brought all their friends too.”

Yahiko was slack-jawed in dismay, and Kaoru blurted. “Sanosuke, what even-”

“Oops. Gotta run.” And he sprinted off, gone in the blink of an eye, leaving the four of them dumbstruck.

He never came to the dojo that night, or even the following morning. He had to be laying low; the Nagano officers were prowling the streets, but they stuck to the gambling halls and row houses, from the gossip at the station. None of Koshijiro’s colleagues were pleased by the unexpected arrival of these men, or their crass behavior. One of the ringleaders had shouted outside, demanding to speak to the chief. Chief Uramura, who had just healed from his injuries, had attempted a more polite conversation. It didn’t go over well, the other man barking in his face.

“From what I was told,” Koshijiro shared over dinner. “Sagara-san is a person of great interest to their employer. The magistrate on the poster had been found beaten in his house.”

“Probably deserved it, since it was Sano.” Yahiko said around a mouthful of udon. “But now, he’s a fugitive.”

“I’m wondering why he didn’t tell us the Ishin Shishi connection.” Kaoru murmured, stirring her soup spoon.

Himura thought aloud, his eyes deeply serious. “Perhaps, he anticipated this would occur, and did not want to involve us. And as a former member of the Sekihoutai, he has his pride.”

“So, what can we do to help him?”

Yahiko suggested. “Throw the Nagano people off his trail? Leave fake clues, mislead them away from where Sano could be?”

“Yes, or switch targets to the magistrate.” Then, Himura tilted his head. “There is someone who owes this one a favor. Tani-dono, who was shielded by this one and Sanosuke when Jin-e attacked. It would be a gamble, but they are related through the Ishin Shishi.”

“These are great ideas!” Kaoru agreed. “In the meantime, we can make the strangers feel as unwelcome as possible. I’ll talk to Tae, she still needs Sano to pay off his tab, and we’ll spread the word.”

“I can also speak to the chief, to inform further along the chain of command.” Koshijiro frowned. “If the corruption’s deep enough in Nagano, it will be readily obvious.”

So, they set out with their plans. Himura relayed that he had a good conversation with Tani; Koshijiro was very curious as to the details, if it forced the politician into writing a letter to the magistrate. The intruding officers had less presence each day, Yahiko cackling that they were frustrated and lashing out at each other. Kaoru stated that in town, they were rebuffed, ignored, or given nasty looks. Despite the changes, Sagara’s absence continued. They visited the row house where he occasionally stayed after a night out; the bedding was unkempt, he had obviously slept there, but no other signs of life.

After a week, an unfamiliar young man approached. Or rather, he peeked over one of the side walls and hissed in a confiding tone. “Our friend Sano says to meet him at the docks at midnight, he’ll be waiting.”

When the hour arrived, it was Tsunan who pointed them to a small fishing boat. “Over there.”

Sagara was standing by the oars, an eager expression on the dark sea. “It’s about time. I’m leaving Tokyo.”

“In that thing? You’ll capsize!” Yahiko protested.

“I’m not going that far, my first stop is in Osaka. Then, I’ll go south, travel along the coast. I’ve never been to the other islands, like Shikoku, or the mainland and beyond. There’re plenty of strong people in the world; I’m looking forward to challenging them.” His eyes blazed hungrily. “But I wanted one last goodbye, like everyone else did.”

“We’re trying to smooth things over here, but as you rightly said, it isn’t goodbye forever.” Koshijiro shook his hand. “See you later, Sagara-san.”

“See ya, old man.” He grinned. “Go easy on Kenshin, okay?”

At that moment, a whistle pierced the air. By the heavy footsteps, they were on the verge of being discovered. Koshijiro volunteered to stall, but when he climbed up to the streetside, he found a familiar silhouette, directing the Nagano officers away from the docks. “Chief Uramura.”

“Officer Kamiya. Thank you for working overtime, but I can take it from here.” He lightly said. “As for your earlier question, it seems a certain person will soon be removed from his post.”

“I appreciate the update, and your understanding.” He nodded to the disappearing shadows. He crept down the docks again, to hear his daughter speaking.

“No matter what, you can always come and see us. We’ll miss you.”

“Thanks, Jou-chan. Next time I visit, there should be a wedding. Plus or minus a kid on the way.”

“What?! That’s, you…!” She spluttered, her face red. Koshijiro’s own expression was flat and unamused.

Then, Sagara turned to Himura. No words were exchanged between them, only a look of mutual understanding and a hearty slap of their palms. With a broad grin, Sagara crammed his legs into the boat and grabbed the oars. A few splashes, and the snug vessel slipped out to the bay’s undulating waters.

The atmosphere at home was less tense, now that it was concluded, but stillness had settled in. It was true sense of quiet, that expanded in each room, and prompted an overdue cleaning session to busy their hands. When Koshijiro had finished his tasks, he took his break on the porch, next to Yahiko. He had a small glinting item in his fingers, thoughtfully staring at it, and explained.

“It’s the key to Sano’s row house, for me to use.”

“And why did he give it to you?”

“Sano said that it’d be awkward to stay in the same house with a couple.”

The phrasing of ‘couple’ was something to be left for another day; instead, Koshijiro said. “Maybe for him, but you’re still young, Yahiko. Yes, you’ve seen and done things beyond your age and beyond the capacity of many men. However, you’re eleven years old. I would prefer that you stay here, because this is your home and we can look after you. It isn’t easy to live alone, especially in the row houses. Also, when Sagara-san returns, I doubt the row house is the first place he’d visit.”

“Yeah, he’d come to the dojo right away.”

“Indeed.”

“Actually, I don’t really want to leave either. And you’re staying too, Kamiya-san.” He scratched his cheek. “I never got to know my dad; I don’t even know what he looked like. I guess…he’d be something like you. Not the face, obviously! But like, the way you talk and stuff…”

Koshijiro was also embarrassed. “Kyoko and I never had a son, so I suppose we’re in the same situation.”

Yahiko gave a toothy grin. “Yup!” They sat in companionable silence for a bit, until the boy asked. “So, what’s Kenshin going to do?”

“The same as usual, only minding the limits of his physicality. A more difficult balance now, but he will persevere, as he promised.” He hadn’t provided an answer yet in regards to learning Kamiya Kasshin, but the possibility remained open.

Yahiko made a scrunched face in exasperation. “I already knew that! I was talking about him and Kaoru. Even if it’s not a big deal, how much longer will the mushiness last?”

“…I think that’s best answered by them.”

“Ah, there you are!” Kaoru rounded the corner, a broom in her grip. Himura was amiably following in her wake. She gestured to the crisp cover of multicolored foliage and pine needles in the courtyard. “Let’s keep at it until dinner.”

“There are plenty of ingredients for takikomi gohan tonight, a reward for such hard work.” Himura caught a falling maple leaf in midair, and he offered it to Kaoru with a smile. “For you, Kaoru-dono.”

She happily accepted. “How pretty. Thank you, Kenshin.” Had their pinkies touched? It was hard to tell.

“Ugh, come on.” Yahiko griped, but he didn’t sound genuinely upset. “Here, I’ll take the broom while you two are occupied.” They did pick up their feet, but shared little smiles while the yard was cleaned.

Koshijiro knew exactly what he was expecting, but he would wait.