[ Watashi ]

[ Tomodachi ]

[ Saint Seiya ]

[ Clamp ]

[ Fanfiction ]

I sat very still during the whole time Saitou Hajime told his wife and son the tale of the last night's events. I kept my face expressionless when I saw naked anger and then fury inflame Shunsuke's eyes. The Wolf had led me back to the Sumeragi mansion some three hours after midnight. The would-be incendiaries had been stopped and arrested for the most part, and no house had been set on fire. It looked like the catastrophe had been averted--for the time being. When we had reached the mansion's main gate, we had gone in and he had roused both Shunsuke and Sumeragi Tokio. "This won't wait," he had told them briskly before leading the way to the abandoned wing's main room. Since that moment, he had been busy detailing everything that had happened. Outside, darkness was reluctantly giving way to a depressing greyness.

Dawn.

"Thank the spirits the worst was avoided," Sumeragi Tokio said in a tight voice once Saitou Hajime was done with his story. "However, the wrongness in the city remains, and it threatens it as badly as it did before. Is there anything we can do to ensure its safety? Can't you bring back order to that blighted work site?"

"Not on what small information I have." Saitou Hajime shrugged. "Gwenaël O' Sullivan is as slippery as an eel. I have no doubt he won't give up so easily, whatever it is he's after, but I simply have nothing I can use against the man--" the amber eyes turned toward me and a harsh smile curled up the Wolf's lips, "nothing except this small walking piece of evidence." At once, eyes focused on me and I fought the reflex to clutch at the bracelets on my wrists. They wouldn't help--nothing would.

Steeling myself, I confronted Shunsuke and his mother, but I didn't glimpse the look of hurt or sadness I had expected to see shining in their eyes. Nothing could be read from them, nothing but barely mastered anger and a cold determination.

So easily.

I smiled to myself.

So easily, you let me go.

Something was blossoming in my heart--a pain that had no name but that tore it apart as it filled the emptiness left by the sleepless night's exhaustion. I was a fool for feeling this, I was a fool for expecting anything else when I had come into their home to gain their trust and betray it. Learn your place, I told myself silently. Learn your place and stay there. Don't overstep your boundaries, don't reach out for what you can never have. I fully deserved the pain I was feeling.

Twisting my smile in the semblance of irony, I shook my head. "You have nothing, Saitou-san. You can look into the work site's reports or in its mail if you haven't already done so." I managed to give my voice a mocking edge as I said that last sentence, then I shrugged. "You'll find that all the crazy decisions that have led to this mess have been sanctioned by the companies which commissioned the work--sanctioned or even suggested by them. I suppose I don't need to remind you that one of the hands behind the financiers of this project on the Japanese side is your own government. There simply is nothing there to support a wild claim against my father, even if I were to back it up."

"I know." The smirk on the Wolf's face had nothing pleasant about it.

"If you do," I told them evenly, "then you understand that the only way to achieve a balance at the work site is to force it from above--from the hands that hold the reins--and this discussion can end. Now," I said even as I stood up, "if you'll excuse me, I'll go freshen myself up and then get myself at the work site. The sun will be up soon."

"No!"

As the low, furious exclamation rose in the room, a hand grabbed my left arm and yanked, violently pulling at me and forcing me to turn back. Shunsuke had stood in the same time I had, and it was he who had reached out to me, forbidding me to go away. I looked into the strange amber eyes patched with green, and felt a lump in my throat. "Stay," he said, the tone of his voice low and intent. "You can't go, Bran." His grip on my arm was a fierce, painful one. "You can't go," he repeated. "We're not letting you go. I'm not letting you go, Bran." Something sparked in his eyes, beyond anger.

Harsh.

Binding.

"The wood beneath your feet knows the rhythm of your steps, and the maple trees in the garden know the touch of your hand. The wards around this house have enveloped you and accepted you. I'm not letting you go, Bran," he said softly, "ever."

I felt myself quivering as he said my name. Something deep within me wanted to answer that call and accept his claim, but that couldn't be--not without my bringing further harm on those he loved and ultimately hurting him far worse than I already had. So I did the only thing I could do: I silenced the impossible longing in my heart, and looked away from him.

What I had seen in Shunsuke's and his mother's gaze hadn't been a denial of my presence.

What I had seen there had been acceptance of the past and a firm resolution to face whatever the future held.

Staring at some imaginary point beyond his shoulder, I told Shunsuke the truth. "You must." I smiled, and ignored the pain clawing at my heart. "I warned you once that all I could bring you was harm, but you wouldn't listen. You should understand now that I told you the truth. You must let me go, Shunsuke. You must," I drew in a shuddering breath. "What you're appealing to within me, what you're reaching for, I can never give--not to you, not to anyone." Gently, I freed myself from his hold and started to step back.

"Don't move, Asano Bran." Before Shunsuke had time to react, his mother spoke up in a deadly quiet voice. She bowed her head, her shoulders slumped as if she was bearing a great weight. Then she stood up and faced me. "You cannot go," she said in the same voice. Her eyes were set on me, forbidding me to look away. "I am the head of the Sumeragi clan, and my duty is to protect this city's balance. Your father and others behind him threaten it to attain their own goals. They would tear through the fabric of the bonds holding it together--they would take lives and spark hatred for their own purposes. You are one of the keys that lead to him, and I can't allow you to go. No matter what, I will protect Kyoto. You did the same," she smiled at me, all of a sudden, "you rose and acted to preserve it, and for this I thank you. For this," she repeated, the smile gone from her face, "I will ask you: help us, please."

It was useless. She didn't understand. No matter how generous her offer was, no matter that she'd give me this chance of being a friend of her house who'd always have a place under her roof, I couldn't do anything for her.

"No."

The single word echoed in the room. As I saw darkness veil the gaze of Sumeragi Tokio, I nodded to myself. She had heard the finality in my voice, and now she understood that attempting to persuade me would do her no good.

"Child," she sighed, "do you have any idea whom it is you just denied?"

I bowed my head, taking in a deep, steadying breath. Then I confronted her. In a voice as calm as I could manage, I told her, "Yes. You are the Sumeragi, and you wield power that allows you to reach beyond the barriers of flesh to touch the soul of a person--power that allows you to bind the world together, to heal and defend..." I summoned a smile to my lips, "and fight if you choose to." I shrugged. "Believe me, I know who you are, Sumeragi-sama. If you wanted to, I'm sure you could do what your enemy attempted." Forcefully, I unclenched my hands which had closed into fists at my side, and went on, my jaw set in a firm line, "You could reach out beyond the wards Shunsuke set to protect me, and try to grasp my soul." From very far away, I felt my shoulders shaking, but I refused the sensation, wholly focused on Sumeragi Tokio. "You could try," I repeated, "but you would be denied. No matter how powerful you are or how ruthless you're willing to be, you would fail. The help you want, the loyalty Saitou-san demanded that I choose, they cannot be forced from me. They can neither be cajoled out of me nor beaten out of me. They're simply not mine to give anymore."

I looked away from her as my words faded into silence. There, it was said.

Better to have done with it.

Better that she hate me.

Better that she, her husband and her son despise me.

Perhaps she'd try to coerce me to help them, perhaps even Shunsuke would lend her a hand and unravel the shining tapestry of light he had woven to shield me. It would be good. Anything that could silence the echo their words and the feeling of their presences found in my heart would be good. I dreaded to turn my gaze inward and discover how deeply their warmth and gentleness--how deeply their touch had endangered my own inner balance. Almost, I hoped that they would hurt me and sever the bonds of friendship and shared roof.

"I know," someone whispered in my ear, and I closed my eyes as I felt Shunsuke's warm breath caressing my neck. I could feel myself trembling under the hand he had laid on my left shoulder. "Mother," he said suddenly, "can you give me time? Can you allow me to speak with Bran alone?"

No!

Something deep within cried out. No. It wouldn't do any good, it would only hurt--hurt him, and I--

Cold, icy laughter rose inside me.

I didn't want that.

My eyes snapped open as I realized that, ad I realized what I had allowed to exist--what I had allowed to grow. Fool, I told myself harshly, poor, fucked up fool! I bit my lower lip hard.

In front of me, Sumeragi Tokio's gaze was set on me, and something unreadable flickered in her eyes. Eventually, she nodded at her son. "Yes, I can give you this, Shunsuke. I can give both of you this much." With that, she rose and exited the room, followed by her husband.

"Here," Shunsuke said as he held up a cup for me to take. I accepted it with a silent, wooden nod, and brought it to my lips. It was sake, I discovered as I sniffed its contents--sake at sunrise, that was a bit early in the day. I drank, fighting down the urge to laugh at my insanity.

At Shunsuke's insanity.

I drank the cup dry in one long swallow, and focused on the sensation of warmth spreading through my body. It wasn't enough alcohol to get me drunk, unfortunately. I took a long, shuddering breath, and then released it as I set the cup down on the floor beside me. Enough wallowing in self-imposed pain and self-pity, I berated myself. There was nothing to do but confront the events as they came. Slowly, I lifted up my head and looked at Shunsuke. "Thanks," I told him with a slight bow.

He shrugged, and then said quietly, "This isn't about the country you work for." He gave a single shake of his head. "This isn't even about your father." There was no question in the tone of his voice, so I didn't reply anything. Beautiful emerald eyes met mine, all of a sudden. "It's about the high veils of ice that wall your soul away."

My heart skipped a beat.

He knew.

He had seen them--felt them.

The snake within laughed its dry, horrible laugh and coiled up to my spine. Slowly, lazily, it started crushing the bone while I looked into the clear green pools without seeing my image mirrored in them. I could drown for an eternity, and never find myself in Shunsuke's gaze.

"I'm a thief." A gentle smile had come to his lips. "I steal the pictures of those I love," he said as if he had read my mind.

I didn't hear his words. They glided past me and faded away as I broke eye contact with him. They melted into silence, but their echoes lingered, reaching out to the shredded sails I had gathered around me, catching in their edges. "You sensed them on the night you freed me from the Sakurazukamori," I observed tonelessly.

"I did." There was something like serenity or confidence in his voice, as if my denial of him didn't matter--as if he knew what was behind it.

It was insane. He was drawn to me, to the young man he believed was his friend sitting beside him--he was drawn to a lie. Harshly, I made myself face that truth and then release it. Now that I had understood, perhaps I could make it so that he walked away from me on his own. Perhaps I cold make it so he'd hurt less.

"I felt them looming over me, and dared do nothing more than touch them briefly."

Touch?

Sharply, I turned to face him. "Touch?!"

He nodded at me. "Cold and harsh, and older than the wards of this house. They were like the arms of Winter, frozen in embrace."

"They are Winter," I said between clenched teeth, "and how you could touch them without paying the price, I do not know."

"Why do they lock you away like this. Why must you harm all those who come close to you?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and eventually I bowed my head. I couldn't bear to look at him any longer, I couldn't bear to gaze into those emerald eyes that seemed to know and accept things no human being could. I stared at the floor instead, fighting down a sudden burst of anger--anger at myself, and at him for perceiving what should have been hidden so deep that nobody would ever glimpse its existence. The brand....

"Because I am O' Sullivan." Abruptly, words rushed in and tumbled from my mouth, unstoppable. "Because I am cursed, like my father before me, and all those who preceded him." On impulse, I lifted up my left arm horizontally and looked up at him. "These jewels mark me as one whose blood is cursed, one who must be shunned and rejected, lest pain and grief befall the ones foolish enough not to heed the warning--but humanity has forgotten. We're the only ones who can't, ever."

"Why?" I shrugged, and suddenly heard broken laughter coming from me. I was shaking. Shunsuke came toward me, his knees rubbing against the wooden floor, and he rested his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. "Why?" he repeated quietly.

Tell him.

I drew a sharp intake of breath as the dry, harsh whisper filled my mind. Tell him if you dare. Tell him if you can face the shame and filth that you are--if you can face his disgust of you once he knows! Hatred drowned my being, washing over me like a tidal wave. It was as if something in Shunsuke had stirred the Shadow sleeping within--as if it had fully awakened the ghost that haunted my soul.

It thought I'd flee.

It thought I'd weep.

It taunted me, daring me to bring harm and pain.

"Because, long ago, one of my line wrought a terrible act of betrayal." It had given me permission, certain I'd shy away from doing this, but I wouldn't. Shunsuke would understand once he knew the tale of my ancestors' foul deed--he'd understand and he'd let me go. In a voice carefully devoid of emotion, I told Shunsuke what my father had said to me while I had sat next to an hearth of stones so ancient that nobody remembered when it had been built.

"The O' Sullivan clan was a rich and powerful family. It was bound to the green plains of Erin--the country of my father. Some say it was because Faerie blood had once been mingled with ours, and that, because of this, the clan's luck held despite the years. Faery," I gave a helpless shrug, "as I understand it, it's a world hovering on the edge of ours, a dream or a nightmare interwoven with reality. People exist there--or perhaps not people. I suppose you could thing of them as kami of sorts." As Shunsuke nodded understanding, I continued, "What my father told me is that a bond existed between our branch of the clan and some of the Faery realm--haughty, arrogant beings as cold and merciless as Winter, but there was something like trust between them. My ancestors profited from this. Their power and wealth grew, until they betrayed it all. All I know is that they sold those beings to their enemies and ensnared them, using the bond of trust to trap them. There was death," I said between clenched teeth, "and once it was all over, we were judged and cursed. We had betrayed them, and so we would betray all those who approached us. We would betray them and harm them so that they would chase us away, cast us from the land and forsake our name. We would betray everything and everyone, generation after generation. Forever."

I drew in a deep breath. "I'm the last, Shunsuke." I looked him straight in the eyes. "When I grew to be twelve years of age, my father took me to Erin, and told me this tale. He asked me if I would take up the burden of my family and accept the curse, and I agreed. The bracelets on my wrist, the ring on my finger and the walls of ice you have glimpsed are the marks I allowed to be branded upon my body and my soul. This is what I am, Shunsuke. The O' Sullivan heir. Betrayal is my name, there is nothing you or anyone can do about it. I have betrayed you, and I will do so again. Let me go, Shunsuke. Let me go, before I harm you and those you love."

A long silence followed after my words, then at last Shunsuke heaved out a small sigh and nodded at me. "It must have hurt to be so lonely."

There was nothing to be read from him. Slowly, he reached out to me and let his fingertips brush against my left cheek. He ran his hand through my hair in a gentle caress, and then said softly, "When you warned me against you, I told you I'd be the one to judge whether you had brought harm to my house or not. To this day, you haven't, and I won't judge you. You're my friend, Bran, and I love you. I know the sound of your name, and I won't let you go." A smile had come to his lips, a beautiful, luminous smile, and I wished with all my heart that I could run away from him.

He had listened, but he had refused to believe. He trusted me, as the arrogant Shadows of Winter had trusted those of my clan. Fool! I wanted to shout at him. Fool, leave me the hell alone! But I swallowed back the words and the bitter tears that rose in their wake.

It was true that I hadn't yet truly hurt him, but it would come if he didn't release me. Then he would judge--then he would believe me.

And it would hurt him.

Betrayal.

Deception.

It was all that I was, and all that I could ever be.

It had snowed.

Reaching out to a nearby tree, Gwenaël O' Sullivan caught a handful of the powdery stuff and stared at it in silence. It was white and cold, and if he focused on it, he could see the tiny crystalline flakes sparkling like precious jewels. They were beautiful and deadly--proud also.

They were Winter.

Dawn had brought him the news of Milton's and Esaki's failure to start the riots in the Korean quarter. The attempt had been quietly and masterfully countered according to them, and he believed their account of the events. They knew their trade, those two, no matter how annoying they could be. Besides, they might prove useful when dealing with Bran. That name brought a grimace to his lips. The girl had come to the work site and sought him out. Now she was standing beside him on a small hilltop, sharing the view of Kyoto covered in snow.

Clouds had come with the sunrise, heavy grey clouds that had come down from the Japanese Alps. They had spilled their content of snow for the better part of an hour, and then they had been swept away by the same northern wind which had brought them. Now the air was crisp, it had a sharp and pleasant quality. Perhaps the snow would last until sundown. It would be nice if it did: with night came frost, and it would give the white cloak that had embraced the city a feeling of magic.

The elusive illusion of Faery.

"So, your plan failed." Bran didn't even try to conceal the relief from her voice. She had fought him over this relentlessly, until he had called upon Milton and Esaki. Alone, she had managed to somehow maintain a semblance of order in the workers' crews. Sima must trust her, Gwenaël O' Sullivan thought with a smile that didn't touch his eyes, and she had felt it.

She had fallen for it.

The truth was that Bran had no stomach for this. It was still beyond the limits she had unconsciously set for herself, but in time that would change.

"It did," he replied evenly, keeping his anger to himself for the time being. He turned toward her, and gave her an appraising glance. His daughter made a fine illusion of a young man--one which had fooled everyone until now. She was good at deception, she was careful and meticulous in all the details of her hard-learned male guise. Even her voice was perfect, but there she was helped by her mixed heritage. Neither Europeans nor Japanese knew what kind of voice to expect from a half-blood.

It had been something he had decided when she had been born, but not because he had wanted a male heir--oh no. He had wanted no heir, but both he and Bran's mother had been absentminded idiots--or they had been fooled. Gwenaël O' Sullivan didn't discount that possible explanation for his and the Asano woman's incredibly stupid mistake. Neither of them had wanted a child, but he knew of something that had.

The Shadow that haunted him.

The lingering memory and will of those his ancestors had betrayed.

Those of Winter, he called them. He had no other name for them; knowledge of them had been lost in the long, endless years since the time they had walked the plains of Erin. They were Winter, it was all that he knew. And they, oh yes, they had wanted a child. You won't find release, they had told him, we'll never let you escape. He hadn't. The only thing he had been able to do for the child that had been born had been to gift her with this: be a boy. She could cling to that small deception and use it on people without harming them too much. It allowed her to have companions to talk to--it even allowed her to have a family, as much as the Asano could be anyway. It had allowed her to gain strength which was normally reserved to men. All in all, Gwenaël O' Sullivan believed that he had done his daughter a service in raising her as a son. That thought and the deep-seated anger it rekindled brought his mind back to the present and the person standing beside him in silence.

Bran was upset. He had felt it in the tiny, almost imperceptible signs that only he could read and interpret: in the way she walked and kept her back straight, and in the set of her shoulders. "It was very well done," he said suddenly. "Anyone other than Milton would have missed it. They made it look like chance or accident, so that we wouldn't realize our intent had been discovered and thwarted." He smiled as he saw that Bran faced him without showing the slightest reaction. Whatever else she was, she was indeed very good at deception. "Fortunately, Milton saw the pattern in all those 'chance' police patrols and managed to link it all back to Saitou Hajime." Nothing betrayed Bran's thoughts at the mention of that name. "You were right to warn me against him. It looks like he's an almost legendary figure here. People have nicknamed him the Wolf of Mibu, and he likes to work from the shadows. He's ruthless and efficient, and some say he's the best agent the Meiji government has. He's certainly a daunting figure, but I'd never have thought he'd be daunting enough to turn you against me."

There, an almost imperceptible widening of her eyes.

"Saitou Hajime is certainly a frightening man," Bran shrugged, "but he could never make me turn against you, father--no more than he could threaten me into anything."

He smiled at that. It was the truth, and also the confirmation of what he had suspected. "So," he said in a deceptively gentle voice, "it was your decision to betray me."

Slowly, his daughter lifted up her chin to confront him. They grey eyes she had inherited from his mother were clouded. "No." It was all that she said, and all that she would say. Again, it was the truth, but the simple word wasn't a denial of betrayal.

"Perhaps it's only fair." He smirked. Perhaps it was all part of the curse, a reenacting of what he himself had done at a similar age. It might be they were doomed to betray even their own kin.

What do you think it was you did, six years ago?

The ethereal whisper chilled him, and he left the question unanswered. There had been no choice, only the illusion of it. To think otherwise would lead to madness--it led to an understanding too terrible for him to contemplate. That at each generation they were the ones who doomed and cursed their own children, that they could have stepped away from it.

No.

No, it simply couldn't be. He had done no more than comply with a cruel ritual that served only to satisfy an inhuman thirst for vengeance, when he had brought Bran before the hearth of ancient stones set in the center of his family's house in the plains of Erin--when he had shown her the Shadows dancing and told her the story of her ancestors, and explained why she would be punished for something she hadn't done.

"Will it make it better?" she had asked, her earnest grey eyes set on him.

"Yes," he had told her, and lied.

"Yes," he had said, and betrayed her.

"Yes," he smiled at her, and sealed her fate.

She had reached out, bare-handed, and she had let the flames close upon her left hand. Tears had rolled down her cheeks, and she had whimpered, but she had grasped the silver jewels waiting for her in the heart of the fire.

"What does it have to do with all this?" Bran's harsh, bitter question abruptly broke through Gwenaël O' Sullivan's reminiscences, and he looked at his daughter attentively. She had changed from the gentle, earnest child who had come to him from the Asano clan. She had been too young to understand and feel the rejection around her at the time. Now, she perceived it well enough. Her heart had hardened with the years, but it wasn't enough. She knew what she was, but still something deep inside her refused it. It was in the stiffness of her shoulders when he gave her instructions that went against her own ridiculous code of honor.

It was absurd and laughable for her to entertain a set of ethics she kept breaching, but if she enjoyed being a tangled knot of contradictions, she was welcome to it. She'd eventually realize how stupid she was and she'd drop the foolishness--that was, if the damned Sumeragi clan didn't break her first. Curse them, they had no idea what they were toying with! Focusing on the sound of Bran's voice as she asked her last question, Gwenaël O' Sullivan swore inwardly. There had always been pain in his daughter, deeply hidden--pain that she didn't want to acknowledge. He had allowed her to be this way, certain that she'd eventually have to face it and discard it--that she'd have to accept what she was as he had done. But since he had made her come to Kyoto, it had grown worse. It had festered into the pain of a rotten wound rubbed raw.

It was time he drew the reins on her, and reminded her what they were.

"Worthless."

I shot an amused glance to my left, where stood the one who had just spat that final judgement. The harsh lines of Saitou Hajime's profile detached themselves clearly in the waning lights of sunset. His eyes were focused on the figure performing kata after kata in the far corner of the dojo, observing each detail of every single movement with rapt attention. Smiling despite myself, I shook my head. "You're too hard on her, Hajime. Even though her mind is troubled, the moves she makes are fluid and well-mastered."

He snorted at that. "Her balance is wrong."

Reporting my attention on Asano Bran, I quickly realized that my husband was correct--but then I had never known Saitou Hajime to make even a single mistake when it came to kenjutsu. It was clear that the young woman was aware of the flaw in her routine, it showed in the way her jaw was set and in the anger flashing in her eyes. I had been amazed when Hajime had told me that Shunsuke's friend wasn't a man but a girl. That had sent my stupid husband into a fit of laughter I had managed to quell only by dumping him in the hot, steaming bath Hiroko had prepared for us.

"You should have realized," he had said with a wolfish grin. "After all, you played that trick on me, once." I had looked at the mischievous glint in his eyes and punched him for enjoying himself at my expense. Then, I had worried. He had kept his discovery a secret from everyone but me. Shunsuke didn't know, and I feared that the truth would hurt him. I could see the way he behaved around Bran, and how deeply he cared--loved, without really understanding what was drawing him toward her. It tore at Bran as well, that much was obvious, as obvious as the bond that tied her to Shunsuke. Why she clung to that man's guise, I didn't know. Perhaps it was useful at the work site or in other circumstances, but here it was in no way necessary. It was in no way part of any western government's plot to influence Japan's decision in the matter that had the imperial palace in turmoil.

That understanding had kept me from warning Shunsuke, and when I had heard from my son's mouth the truth about Asano Bran, I had decided to keep silent. Somehow, this deception was essential to the young woman. Whether she realized it or not, it was at the core of the curse she bore. It was one of its foundation stones, as certainly as the silver bracelets and the ring were. It was possible she couldn't even conceive of letting it go. Revealing the truth would hurt both young people badly. The only thing I could hope for was that Bran would accept the shelter we had decided to offer her and remain here. Maybe in time she might come to trust Shunsuke enough to drop her mask. It was the only way out of this mess.

"Are you sure about this?" Hajime suddenly murmured next to me. "She's a hazard and a liability. She may have revealed much of herself to Shunsuke, but she hasn't made a choice. As long as she stays here, she will watch us and be the eyes and ears of her father. She's our enemy, Tokio, and she should deal with her accordingly."

"No." I heaved out a small sigh. "Everything you said is true, but not that." Turning my gaze toward him, I added softly, "If you were so sure she is our enemy, you would have moved, Hajime." He glowered at me, but stayed silent. Reaching out to him, I closed a hand around his right arm. "Bran isn't our enemy. She's dangerous, and she's cursed, I have no doubt that she told our son the truth. I cannot send her away, as much because it would be letting an armed weapon loose as because it'd hurt Shunsuke."

"Humph." He sniggered. "It's time your son grew up and developed at least a semblance of backbone."

"He has one, and you know it full well, anata." He grimaced at the form of address, and stayed silent for a while.

"I could kill her for you," he finally offered.

Slowly, I pivoted to watch the solitary figure which was still going through kata after kata. Beyond the dark amusement that had shone in the amber eyes, I knew that there was a cold, merciless determination. It was even possible that taking Bran's life would be the best thing to do. It would effectively destroy the curse set upon her family--a curse that might well involve the Sumeragi if ever Bran chose to tell Shunsuke the truth about herself.

But she wouldn't do that.

She loved Shunsuke.

"No." I shook my head, and felt a smile twist the corners of my lips as I heard the sadness in my voice.

"Ah well," he breathed in my ear, and he laid a gentle kiss on the side of my neck. "I knew you wouldn't let me resolve this my way." He grinned at me. "I never get any fun when you're around."

"Is that so?" I retorted, whirling around to face him, hands resting on my hips. Sending the heavy emotions away, I asked him sweetly, "Perhaps I should ask the wood of the bathtub's testimony on that?" A faint, almost imperceptible blush rose to my husband's cheeks, and I laughed.

"Woman!" he growled threateningly. "Show me proper respect!"

As I was about to explain to him just what he could do with his 'proper respect' in vivid details, Bran stopped her exercises and came toward us. "Sumeragi-sama, you wanted to see me?" she asked, a wary light shining in her gaze.

"No," I replied with an easy smile. "We saw you training and lingered to watch. It isn't often that someone other than Shunsuke spends time here. You remind me of my faraway youth," I chuckled.

"Sumeragi Tokio was an out-of-control tomboy," Hajime snorted beside me, "and she had an unhealthy liking for kenjutsu." Deliberately ignoring the shadow that clouded the grey eyes for a moment, he went on with a nasty grin, "but she was far better than you. She had both discipline and concentration. You're just hopeless."

Bran lifted up her head at the gibe. Instead of being cowed by my husband's harsh words, she confronted him and retorted in a quiet voice, "I know. I have trained long enough with Kamiya-sensei to sense my own flaws. I shouldn't shame her teachings and my bokken by practicing with my emotions in turmoil, but there's no help for it." Looking away, she finished in a barely audible whisper, "It's the only thing that allows me to keep an illusion of balance within." That last sentence hadn't been meant for us, it had been nothing more than a disturbing thought blurted out just a bit too loud.

Beside me, Hajime opened his mouth--no doubt to deliver one of the barbered comments he loved so much--and closed it shut as the sound of rapid footsteps echoing on wood reached us. Bran's eyes widened in recognition as her gaze set on some point behind us, and I knew before turning around that it was Shunsuke we had heard.

My son was bearing a thick set of papers bound together, carefully tucked under his right arm. "It has come," he said simply as he held them out to me. With a sharp nod, I took them from him and a quick look at the seal set on them confirmed what I had guessed.

The emperor's summons had reached us.

"When?" I asked quietly.

"It came just a few minutes ago. The courier asked for you specifically, but uncle Yuta came at the gate and took it for you." Shunsuke smirked. "He rebuked the man for daring to demand to see you directly, and judging from the man's repeated apologies, he was very good at it."

An eyebrow raised in surprise, I chuckled. "I didn't know my brother could be a convincing bully. Where is he?"

Shunsuke shrugged. "He said he'd join us if you requested it, mother, but that until you did so the matter the emperor wants to submit to you isn't for him to know."

Reflexively, I wrung the papers I was holding, then I heaved out a loud sigh. "Yuta is right, I suppose. Well, let's have a look first, then I'll go discuss it with him." Eyeing the now empty dojo behind us, I grinned all of a sudden. "Let's talk here, it will remind me of the time when Soushi and I were planning the future of the world."

"So, you admit it at last?" Hajime laughed goodheartedly. "It's because of you that the captain of the Shinsengumi's first troops was always late for the evening patrols."

"I should go."

Asano Bran's quiet voice abruptly brought us back to the present and to the unwelcome burden which had been dumped at our door. The young woman gave me a slight bow and made to leave, but Hajime's gaze locked on her.

"Should you?" I heard the poison in his voice, and simultaneously fury, black and savage, flooded the air, tumbling over the wards Shunsuke had set around Asano Bran.

"Steady!" My son had felt it in the same time I had, and he had rested his hands on the girl's shoulders, squeezing hard. The grey eyes had darkened, and there was a frightening light in them. During a long moment, she stood motionless, and I thought she would lose control.

"Fuck you!" she spat in a low hiss, "You're worse than Gwenaël O' Sullivan." I started, taken aback by the raw violence in her voice, and saw my shock mirrored in Shunsuke's eyes. Then she dragged in a long, shuddering breath, and said tonelessly, "No, I shouldn't go. I should stay and listen, and you--" she smiled, locking her gaze with Hajime's, "you should have me removed from here and detained in another wing of this mansion with guards at the door. But I'll stay if you're mad enough not to care that I'll betray you again."

"Bran, don't." I barely heard my son's urgent whisper. "Please, stop it. Bran," he repeated, as if the sound of her name was power. "Bran." Her eyes widened, and her whole body shook. A furious wave of pain and cold--cold so harsh that it burnt--washed through the wards, and I drew a sharp intake of breath.

Her name bound her.

With her name, Shunsuke could reach out to her and touch her in a way she couldn't deny.

Deep within me, a Shadow stirred.

Once the wave of dark emotions ebbed away, the tension in the young woman eased.

"You have to stay, Asano-san." I kept my voice pleasant and unconcerned as I said, "You're tied to this house, even my fool of a husband acknowledges this." Nodding at her, I added, "You'll do what you must, and we will do so as well."

Suddenly, as Shunsuke released her, Hajime stepped toward her and stared at her steadily. "There's strength in you, Asano-san, but you need to find a balance at the core of your being. You need to find control." A smile came to his lips, and he said, "If you had this, you'd never have allowed me to goad you into such an outburst." She stared back at him, trapped like a helpless deer in the hunter's clutches. Then, abruptly she bowed her head.

"You're right."

Hajime scoffed at her whispered admission, then we all went back inside the dojo. No matter what the young woman thought about herself and the curse on her family, I knew the meaning of the pain that had exploded inside her.

The loyalty she had claimed wasn't hers to give, she had all but given Shunsuke.

And it was breaking her inside.

The Sumeragi were crazy.

There was no other possible explanation for their behavior. Sumeragi Tokio herself had told me to remain and be a witness to what should have been a closely guarded secret. The emperor's summons wasn't a matter to be discussed in front of strangers--hell, it wasn't even a matter to discuss with their own relatives! Yet, she had bidden me stay. She had said that I was linked to them, and that had looked like it was reason enough for her. She was no fool, she had heard the bitter truth I had flung at her husband, but she hadn't seemed to care. Her attitude bespoke a trust in me which was ludicrous--either that or she wanted a confrontation. When I had stared into her eyes, which had the same patches of green as Shunsuke's, I had found a frightening understanding there. It might be she was aware of how deep the bond between her son and I ran, and that she was gambling on it being stronger than what tied me to my father.

Wrong.

Again, I felt anger rising within, and mastered it with difficulty. Who did she think I was, to play me like an unwitting pawn? Breathe, I willed myself. Focus on your heartbeats. I did so, and reluctantly the wave of anger retreated. It didn't matter what her intentions might or might not be. Whichever alternative was true, the result would be the same.

"Sir?"

Putting an end to my reflections, I pivoted to face the man who had come to my side. "Where do you want those machines moved?"

"There," I replied, indicating the far end of the work site where the ground still had to be dug, "at the foot of the first hill." The machines would make Sima's men's work tolerable at least. I was overstepping my authority in ordering this, but there no longer was a reason for my father to make the Koreans' lives unbearable. Milton and Esaki had vanished form the place, but I was certain they still lurked close by. What was more important was that the Koreans were rid of them. As teams started to move the huge beats of metal, I watched their progress with the ghost of a smile hovering on my lips.

"I don't remember giving you leave to do this." Unhurriedly, I turned around to catch a sight of my father climbing up to my watching post. I closed my heavy cloak around me as a harsh gust of wind enveloped me and shrugged, waiting.

Once Gwenaël O' Sullivan had joined me and I could speak to him without having to shout to be heard, I told him quietly, "No, you didn't, but you didn't forbid it either." I smirked. "Initiative can be essential to get a good job done when you occupy a position of authority. That's what you told me time and again, isn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, I went on, "Besides, Sima really needs these machines for that kind of work."

"He does," he conceded with an absentminded nod, "and he's welcome to them. It's time to get things back to normal, and you're best suited to do that, Bran. So," he focused on me, "why did you need to see me?"

Why do you think, father?

Why else than to betray those foolish enough or generous enough to give me shelter and trust me?

I looked away from Gwenaël O' Sullivan, and shrugged. "As you told me it would, a latter has come from Tokyo, a whole pile of letters in fact." Softly, I said, "It was a summons from the emperor himself, requesting the Sumeragi clan head's presence and advice on a matter that will send Japan in a direction from which there is no turning back."

"The emperor himself was involved?" My father whistled between his teeth. "I thought it would come from some of his close advisors. This means that Mutsuhito must have been informed of the whole situation, and most of all it means that he's had weeks to consider all the possible consequences of his decision. It had been thought that a visit from a high-ranking official of the Foreign Office might be enough to sway him, but now...." His voice dropped into silence, and he looked out at the plain of Osaka spreading in front of him, his mouth drawn in a thin line. Around us, the wind had died.

"It may still be so," I told him in the eerie stillness which had enfolded us. It was as if Winter had closed its arms around us and had taken us away from the world, so that our conversation wouldn't be overheard. "That he called upon the Sumeragi means that he hasn't made his decision yet, but that he believes it may change the country's balance, which is the Sumeragi's sacred duty to protect."

"It makes sense," my father nodded slowly, his voice thoughtful. Then, a nasty grin split his face. "I don't blame him for not knowing what to do. There are so many layers of consequences to consider, all intertwined, all influencing one another. Lures and threats," he said in a whisper, "truths within lies within truths and chances. There is no certitude to be found, no matter how hard they try."

"That seemed to be Sumeragi Tokio's opinion of the matter as well," I told him reluctantly. At these words, he pivoted and gave me a sharp glance. He didn't ask anything, there was no need for him to. Holding my father's gaze with my own, I drew in a deep breath, then started to detail him all that had been said in the dojo. "The question isn't about sending troops to Korea to quell the rebellion," I explained in a distant voice, focusing my mind on the last evening's memories. "It's about how many men to send there. Japan must reply to the call for help which came from the Korean government. They're honor-bound to do it since they signed a treaty with China concerning that country. The question is: should Japan make its move now and turn its eye outward, toward its neighbors and grasp power where it can? Should it position itself as one of the powers to be reckoned with in the region--a power great enough to force the westerners to tread warily around it? The answer is much less obvious than it appears. Japan is still groping about in many areas--it's still growing and learning--and to commit itself to war and conquest while its balance is still fragile might weaken it from the inside in the long run. Sumeragi Tokio seemed to be concerned mostly with that. She hates the thought of war."

"Will she advise for peace, then?" Gwenaël O' Sullivan heaved out an exasperated sigh. "The Sumeragi are known as an extremely conservative lot, but still I didn't think--"

"You sure have pushed them in that direction," I interrupted him with a humorless smile. "They saw the aborted riots' attempt as a way to even heighten the enmity between the Japanese and Korean communities, and thus push them toward war." That was true enough. What I didn't tell my father was the fury which had lit Sumeragi Tokio's eyes at the thought of innocent lives being carelessly thrown away for the sole benefit of swaying her toward the side of war. The contempt she had expressed at the ruthless, criminal manipulation had been bottomless. She was too intelligent to let that blind her to the problem, however, and she had worried at it for hours like a starved dog would have a bone.

When my father didn't react to my words, I went on, "She didn't allow that to cloud her judgement, though. They've considered many possibilities. They've wondered how the westerners would react to such a move from Japan, no matter how artfully disguised and justified by existing covenants. Saitou Hajime in particular was puzzled at the game westerners seem to be playing. It seemed to him that we should push them toward peace, not war." I paused for a moment to catch my breath, then resumed, "They also considered the recent victory of Japan in re-negotiating the customs rights and trade agreements, and finally they agreed that if Japan didn't move more than it had and bided its time, it would be all profit for the country. That said, there is the population the consider. People want Japan to seize power and rise above the others. They're proud, and they feel cheated by every foreigner. Discontent and unrest have grown over the years. Saigô Takamori's rebellion in 1877 is still very vivid in people's memories."

"So, will it be war or peace?" Gwenaël O' Sullivan asked testily.

"Saitou Hajime's final advice was that they ask the westerners' embassies in Tokyo and have them spit out the truth of what their game is." I grinned at my father. Then, sobering I added, "In truth, they don't know what the right course of action should be. Too many factors point in opposite directions. Sumeragi Tokio finally said that she'd go to the emperor's summons with her doubts and misgivings, but that she'd advise for peace. It's what her heart and intuition tell her to do, and in the absence of decisive elements, she'll follow them."

This was, of course, the exact opposite of what the western governments wanted.

"Shit!" My father shook his head while the fierce curse echoed in the crisp winter air. "Damn stupid woman, too timid to seize such a golden opportunity!" I waited until the hissed words had faded, then I laughed.

"You forget, father! The Sumeragi care nothing for mundane power. They don't give a damn about how great a territory is or how much land may be conquered." Quietly, I told him, "What they see and feel is the spirit of Japan--the life that pulses through mountains and lakes. What they guard is its balance, the serenity and harmony of the elements that they feel bind this country together."

"They're stupid bigots, then!" Gwenaël O' Sullivan abruptly interrupted himself, and heaved out a loud sigh. "Well, there's no point in wasting more time and energy around something that cannot be changed. Further attempts to pit the Korean community against the Japanese wouldn't serve any purpose, so I guess the usefulness of my presence here is passed." I looked at him sharply, unable to control the reaction that had sent a sudden lurch in my heartbeats. "I'll report the information you gave me and I'll request a new assignment." He shrugged. "I'll keep managing things here until they send a replacement. As for you--"

Go.

I shivered.

I'd have to go, to leave Kyoto.

I'd have to follow him, no matter where he went.

There was no other choice.

I steeled myself, refusing to show any emotion as my father turned his gaze toward me. "As for you," he repeated, "you'll stay for a few more days, a week at most--time enough for you to restore a semblance of normality in the relationships between the workers' crews. Then you'll go back to the Asano and wait for my word." There was a knowing smile on Gwenaël O' Sullivan's lips. Slowly, I bowed my head in acceptance. There was nothing else I could do.

No, Winter hissed in my mind, no, there is nothing you can do. You are ours, and we'll never let you go. You will pay, you will bleed. We will tear your heart apart and rip your soul to shreds. We will crush your spirit until you break and lose yourself. You will pay, it repeated, like he did, and like your firstborn will. Biting my lower lip until I tasted blood, I sent the unreal whisper away, and turned my back on my father.

He was right and I knew it.

I couldn't stay, it was far too dangerous. Already, the Sumeragi clan had almost made me forget what I was. Nodding to myself, I left my father's side to rejoin the crews of workers below.

"Aren't we leaving this place? I thought we were done here."

The quiet whisper rises in the air, and reaches her ears. The two men are standing some five meters below, their shadows almost imperceptible in the dim lights of dusk. She's made a habit of coming here at this time. The rock on which she sits is cold and unpleasant, but she's learned many a westerner's secret since the first time she came. She enjoys spying on them, and not solely for the irony there is in trapping these spies at their own game. No, what's fascinating is to listen and try to discern the way their minds work.

Both so like and unlike those of Japanese people.

Giri doesn't haunt their every movement and word. Oh, they understand duty and orders, and they follow the, but there is something different in the way they do so. It's as if they were a chaotic mixture of everything there is in a person, and not orderly, separate parts that together form the human mind. Their behavior is very hard to predict, their impulses often insane, incomprehensible ones.

"We're not."

That voice is calm and composed. It comes from Asano Bran's father, she can recognize it easily in the frightening control the man keeps over himself. Compared to his companion, he's a rock solid block of stability--ruthless and merciless, but stable. He doesn't let anything show through his mask. Idly, she thinks that she might like him, if ever they met face to face. She'd certainly enjoy to confront him directly; she knows he'd be a good challenge. After all, she has knowledge of his son, and if that one is any indication of his father's nature and strength, then the man whose voice just reached her ears would most likely be very interesting indeed.

"Even though the Sumeragi woman's decision seems to be made, I believe there's a way to change it in our favor. After all," she can almost hear the smile in his tone as he says, "through Bran we can reach out to her son."

It's all she can do not to whistle in surprise and appreciation. It's something she considered, but she's the Sakurazukamori, and as such there are constraints which restrain her, limits which have been set so long ago that there are no words for them. They're like instinct, like a song in the wind that she doesn't know or truly understand--but that she heeds nonetheless. The Sumeragi are out of her reach, she told Saigô Tsugumichi the truth. If it weren't so, she'd have done what the man just suggested days ago.

It would have ruptured the balance between the Sakurazukamori and the Sumeragi clan.

It would have unmade them.

It would have unmade her.

"She may be a key to the Sumeragi heir," the other snorts, "but still she won't give him to you, O' Sullivan. She's too soft-hearted for that." Contempt, and something that might be anger or resentment are dripping from the man's voice. He's right, of course. She knows how strong the bond between Sumeragi Shunsuke and Asano Bran is. He has laid claim on what she had secured for herself, and she knows the kind of strength required to achieve such a feat.

The kind of strength and acceptance on the part of Asano Bran.

Then, all of a sudden, the words' meaning reaches her, and her eyes grow very wide.

She.

Asano Bran is female. Silently, she laughs at the darkening sky. This must be one of the gods' best jests! She remembers feeling something odd about what she thought was a young man. She attributed it to the alienness that gaijin carry with them, and discarded the matter as unimportant. But to find that she tried to seduce a girl--a girl who responded to her as a man would have! She has been more than well-schooled at the deception. The disguise has slipped so deep beneath her skin that it has mingled with her real self. It's a wonder Asano Bran still retains such a tight control of herself--a wonder that she still retains a sense of identity. Now, the woman known as the Sakurazukamori understands better the sequence of events that led to Sumeragi Shunsuke snatching her prey from her claws.

This is just too funny!

"She won't need to do that, Milton." The voice of Asano Bran's father is unconcerned. It's as if he didn't care about the other's disdain for his daughter--as if he shared it. "I know my daughter. After what I told her today, she'll want to get very drunk tonight, and she won't want to do it alone. You'll just have to fish them out of whatever rat's hole they end up into in Gion."

She smiles as she listens to the subtle undertones in the man's voice. The words are toneless, matter-of-fact, but there is anger behind the carefully drawn façade--anger directed both against his daughter and himself.

And a distant, almost imperceptible hint of regrets too.

Dark, she thinks to herself, and twisted. Unable to suppress the slightest of shivers, she remembers the feeling of the cold silver wound around Asano Bran's wrist. They're trapped, she realizes abruptly, trapped and doomed.

Like I am.

The thought echoes within and stirs ghosts of memories which reach out to engulf her. No! She denies them and closes her eyes even as the great Sakura's branches enfold her in a protective embrace. It's been four years since she's been forced to remember and face her shattered self, and still she cannot confront the truth. She never truly will, she knows, but it doesn't matter as much as it used to. The Sakura is there for her, the core of her strength--it and Yuta.

"There's no guarantee she'll do what you say. We might waste precious time and resources searching Gion for ghosts." The sullen voice breaks through the Sakurazukamori's train of thoughts, and she makes herself listen attentively. There's still one essential piece of information that she lacks, and if these men are ready to place a move such as kidnapping the Sumeragi's son, it means that the clan head has made her decision--and that it's not to their liking.

"She'll be there, and the Sumeragi heir as well, Milton. Have no fear." Asano Bran's father laughs--a harsh, bitter sound which spreads through the cold that has embraced the work site. "She sent him a note telling him to meet her at the end of this day's work. Don't worry, I know the way her mind works." Below, the man named Milton makes to leave, but O' Sullivan's voice rises after him. "She'll fight you, Milton. You had better not underestimate her, or you'll end up like the last time." The other freezes at the gibe, and the Sakurazukamori smiles when she feels his fury and shame swirling in the air.

"What should we do with her?" he asks at last.

"Whatever you feel like doing, Milton." She can feel the shrug in the tone. "Just as long as you remember not to kill her and not to do her any permanent damage."

Cold.

The cold that sweeps everything away is harsher and direr than anything she has ever known. It's Winter, this she can tell, but no winter that she's ever experienced, not even far north in Hokkaido. There's something inhuman in it.

Something frightening.

This man has just abandoned his daughter's fate into the hands of a man who wants revenge from her and is now free to enact it. Ruthless indeed, she nods silently. The sound of fading steps rises up to her, and she realizes that the other man is gone. Asano Bran's father is still there, unmoving.

"So," he whispers quietly, "we'll see if you'll keep holding on to your beloved peace and balance for long, Lady Sumeragi."

There.

That's what she's been waiting for. The Sumeragi will advise against war, and that's what Saigô Tsugumichi wants--that is, she will, if this ploy doesn't force her to yield over to the westerners' side.

She mustn't.

It's likely that she won't, even if her son's life is threatened. It will send her into fits of rage and despair, it will claw at her heart, but she knows her duty--or does she? Didn't she ignore it when she offered the shelter and sanctity of her home to men the Sakurazukamori had marked as her prey? Didn't she follow her heart instead of her sworn duty on that day?

Does it matter?

Perhaps not, the Sakurazukamori smiles to herself. She has the information she wanted, and this affords her with a splendid opportunity. Yes, she nods. She has waited long enough. Now is the time to claim what is hers and to take her revenge from what Sumeragi Tokio did to her. Hers will be a strange vengeance, but oddly fitting. Thinking back on what she has perceived of Asano Bran and her father, the Sakurazukamori laughs softly in the night.

She will both give and take.

Sumeragi Tokio will watch it all, but she won't be able to intervene.

Sumeragi Tokio will watch, and she will weep.

End of chapter 7.

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