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Night-Painted Hearts - Part 1A Rurouni Kenshin x Tokyo Babylon fanfiction by Ariane Kovacevic, AKA Fuu-chan. Foreword (such a snobbish word, ah well ^^;) This story is the sequel to "The Other Side of Twilight", and like it, it's a crossover of sorts between Tokyo Babylon and Rurouni Kenshin. While it's possible to read this without having read the first story, I don't recommend you do so, for you will miss a part of the interaction between characters. Also, this story is based on a short one-part fic that I wrote years ago, called When Evil Smiles. While this short fic isn't truly a prologue, and isn't completely consistent with this story, I'd advise you to read it, if you can stand my writing, of course *grin*. Another important thing: it seems I have decided to appoint myself chronicler of the Sumeragi family, and I will be using concepts I have introduced in another fic regarding the history of the Sumeragi clan. It's a rather important characteristic of some members of that family, which is developed and introduced in another fic of mine: Erin's Gift. I advise you to read it, or some rather important parts of this fic will feel a bit weird, mostly in later chapters. If you don't have time to read it, read the last note after the end of part 1, but you are warned that in so doing you will spoil yourself for the reading of "Erin's Gift". As usual, I have tried to base myself on historical facts as much as I could, and also on geographical facts. My source of knowledge is a book called "Japan, Dictionary and Civilization", I hope I can rely on it for correctness. As you will see, if you are familiar with the history of beginning of the Meiji era, I have altered a few things. This is done on purpose, and certainly not to slight or anger anyone or anything. I wouldn't have hesitated to play in the same fashion with my country's history, the more so since my "fooling around" consisted mainly in interpreting the history I read I as I saw fit, and placing some actions ahead of their time. As usual, this fic is written in the first person from the main character's point of view. However, and mostly in the early chapters, I will use other characters' points of view, and I will do so in the third person, naming the characters each time, so no conFuusion should result from the reading. The chapter parts written in the present tense are written so on purpose. If you can guess why, be afraid, because it will mean that you have been contaminated with my insanity! ^^ My apologies for all the mistakes you may see in this story, historical, geographical, cultural, language or otherwise. I hope that you will enjoy it =) C&Cs are most welcome, as always, and if you need to check either "The Other Side of Twilight", "Erin's Gift" or "When Evil Smiles", you can do so by going back to my main fic page, here. Fuu-chan. "Oji-san!" Clear laughter rings through the early morning air like the chiming bells of a temple, mixed with the echoes of small feet running over wood. "Oji-san!"
"Oji-san!"
"Keisuke-ojisan!" Silence slowly reclaimed dominion over the night as Makimachi Misao left the small theatre's area. Impishly grinning to herself, she made a little jump in the air and whooped. She was feeling happy tonight, happy and enthusiastic, even more so than usual. Whirling around, she faced her silent companion and gave him her most dazzling smile. "It was so romantic and beautiful! I wonder if all Western plays have that magical quality..." the young woman pivoted on her toes and revolved around herself, rising her arms up in a horizontal position on both sides of her body as if they had been some kind of wings, and added, "but anyway, that 'Romeo and Juliet' was so moving it made me cry!" Spying her tall companion from the corner of her eye and noting the total lack of reaction on his part, she decided on a more direct approach and chirped, "Ne, Aoshi-sama, what do you think, about that Western play I mean?" There was that detached, ever-present faraway look in Shinomori Aoshi's night blue eyes. For a moment, Misao thought that he hadn't even heard her, then a quiet whisper cut through the night as he replied, "It was different." And with that frustrating statement, the leader of Oniwabanshu, former Shadow Guard of Edo Castle during the Bakumatsu, fell back into silence. After having spied the expression on his face--or rather lack thereof--during about a minute, the young woman heaved a soft sigh, forced to admit that no further comment would come from her Aoshi-sama. She turned away from him, worriedly chewing on her right thumb, and held back a yelp of frustration with difficulty. Darn, but she had really thought that making Aoshi-sama accompany her to the play would be a good plan, that it might even perhaps win her the so rare sight of a smile on his face...but of course it hadn't worked. Pfeh, of course it didn't work, stupid! Completely disgusted with herself, the young woman shook her head in an imperceptible movement. Now all that was left was to return to the Aoiya and then go to sleep. And I don't want to do that! The angry thought resounded in Misao's mind for a while, a little bee trapped within the confines of a small box with no way out. Try though she might, she could think of no way to change the current situation. She was just a transparent child in her Aoshi-sama's eyes, and it seemed that nothing she could do could help or change that. If only it had started raining, then he'd have walked right beside her and protected her with the umbrella they had brought along.... If only they had been walking through danger like she had during the night when Shishio Makoto had tried to set the whole city of Kyoto on fire, he'd have relied on her skills, they'd have been a team. They'd have been partners.... Hanging her head down in defeat, Makimachi Misao couldn't refrain the smallest of shrugs. Hopeless. This is hopeless, and so am I. Looking up to catch sight of a small shrine on her right, she bowed, honoring the kami who resided there out of habit, and for the thousandth time wished that Aoshi-sama's heart would open to her and that his eyes would notice her. Lost in thoughts, she didn't see an irregularity in the street right before her and tripped, falling headlong towards the ground. "You should watch your steps more carefully." The young woman blinked as the quiet words registered in her brain. There was a split second of total incomprehension, then she felt the firm grip of fingers around her left arm holding her back. Misao's heart skipped a beat as she at last realized what had just happened. Blushing a furious shade of red, she faced the tall and slim, too-handsome-to-be-true man who was standing right behind her and who had reacted in the blink of an eye to save her from what would have been a very embarrassing fall. With a deep bow, she stammered incoherently, "Yes. Thank you...I'm sorry, Aoshi-sama. I didn't see...I was distracted and--" Forcefully, she stopped the flow of words, painfully aware that she was rambling and also making a worse fool of herself than she already had, if such a thing was possible. Biting her lower lip, she turned away from her savior and wondered if it mattered at all. She hadn't heard anything in his voice, not even the slightest reproach or exasperation. Perhaps she simply didn't exist in Aoshi-sama's eyes, perhaps he didn't care in the slightest and-- A crossroad. Makimachi Misao froze in her steps. The Aoiya was on their right, on the other side of the Kamo river, but still they'd have to continue forward in order to avoid.... Wait-a-minute. A small, weak voice in the back of the young woman's mind yelled in violent protestation, telling her the idea was crazy and ludicrous, but she discarded the thought with a virtual shrug. She snapped her fingers, happily nodding to herself, and felt laughter rising up her throat. To go see the English play might not have managed to open a crack in Aoshi-sama's wall, but this would. There was no way it wouldn't at least shock the aloof man. With a small giggle, Makimachi Misao acted on her intuition and took an abrupt right turn, going right towards that Aoiya with an unmistakable spring in her steps. After all, what harm could there be in using a shortcut? A most innocent shortcut. Breathe in. Eyes closed, I focused on the night around me. There was no human sound to be heard anywhere close, but still anyone who'd have thought silence reigned in the shrine would have been sadly mistaken. Breathe out. The slow rhythm of my chest rising and falling mixed with the steady beating of my heart, drums which mingled with the crickets' quiet song in the night. There was life, all around me. Life, which flowed through the cool stones under my legs and pulsed through the earth, reached inside my body and then out like a great river which followed its immutable course. I was a tiny blade of grass caressed by the wind, one with the great plain, in harmony with the land. I was the land. I was the sky. Relinquishing control to the great river flowing through my body, I tilted my head backwards in the slowest of motions, opening myself to the feeling of the world. Aware. From very far away, I felt a small smile creeping up the lips of a face which a part of me could barely remember was mine. There, in the intricately beautiful tapestry of life which surrounded the Nishijin quarter, at the northern edge of that shining web, a strand had been pulled loose, creating a ripple of disharmony in the aura surrounding the place. A ripple that kept growing, amplifying so much that the wrongness was now interfering with the everyday life of the people who lived in that part of Kyoto. With a small nod to myself, I agreed that Fukami Yukata had been right to come to my House for help. The weaver hadn't exaggerated in his report of the situation. I fleetingly wondered what might have disturbed the spiritual balance in that place, to discard the question almost immediately. It could have been anything from accidental poisoning of the wells to the tamper tantrum of a mischievous kami, or even some angry ghost fighting to win free of the place of his death. There was little chance the latter was the true cause, though, for I would have felt the lost soul hovering in the night. That, and it would have been drawn to me like a fish to water. Enough with your useless musings, girl. Inwardly, I grinned at the silent voice in my mind, and reached out to the aura surrounding Nishijin quarter. There. Gentle tendrils of wind. Ethereal wings of air. Unfolding. Enveloping. Hush. There was a sudden movement as dark lightning frantically tried to escape my grasp. I spread my awareness even further outward and caught up with it as it reached the boundaries of the domain it had tied itself to. The small kami looked like a diminutive storm cloud which would was attempting to move in every direction at once, as if pushed by a thousand of contrary winds. I waited for a little while, perfectly still; and when the furious movement at last became quiescent, I smiled softly. I'm sorry, but you may not remain in this place. Your presence disrupts the flow of the lives which dwell in it. You have to-- NO! The booming, ethereal sound echoed in my soul, overwhelming, the presence suddenly filling my being. I staggered inwardly, fighting the urge to recoil and hide from it. Reaching back to my body, I focused on the peaceful night surrounding it, and told the angry, frightened spirit, I have no intention of casting you out with nowhere to go. I'll open the way for you and you can use me as a guide to reach any place that would be suitable for you. The small storm cloud pulsed with light and darkness, painting eerie shadows all around itself, but didn't otherwise react. You can come to my shrine if you wish, or you could find a mountain stream, or even a grove near the ocean. I let the thought trail off into nothingness, and waited. Nothing. Could it be I hadn't been understood? I didn't want to have to drive the small kami away by force, I didn't want to use my abilities that way. I knew very well that the spirit hadn't established its home in Nishijin quarter for the simple fun of disrupting human life. It must have been chased away from its previous home, a tearing at the center of the kami's very core, a bleeding wound such as the one which resulted from a sharp kodachi blade driven right through the heart. It would have been wrong to force it away and leave it alone, with no anchor to the land whose manifestation it was. Suddenly, I blinked as I realized that there was a recognizable shape painted on the ethereal cloud. With a nod, I focused on the flow of life enveloping Kyoto and then reached upwards, letting myself fly further and further away from the Sumeragi mansion. I didn't have to search for long: as I spread myself towards the south-west, I found it, halfway to Ise. A torrent of joyful laughter cascaded down my whole being as pure delight filled the night. Yes. The small cloud's shape changed in a split second, and an arrow of starlight dived down towards the forest of Sakaki trees I had led it to. As fast as thought it went, leaving me with an eerie feeling of emptiness and loss that I had never truly grown used to in the fourteen years since I had become the Head of the Sumeragi clan. An unreal bell chime disrupted my train of thoughts, warning me that my link to the small shrine at the heart of the Sumeragi mansion in Kyoto and to my body was growing dangerously thin. I had spread myself far away, farther away than I was used to, and scattering one's essence in this fashion could be extremely dangerous if one didn't know how to establish wards and shields around oneself. To fly as a pure spirit, free of the world's constraints, was an intoxicating and highly addictive experience. With a sigh of regret, I slowly retraced the path to my body. As I opened my eyes, I felt myself falling forward and barely caught my balance by slamming my right hand down on the stone right before me. Blinking, I stared at the stars dancing in front of my eyes and thought that I was lucky that stray kami attempting to find themselves a home in the city was at most a one in a season occurrence. Exhaustion thundered through my body, hammering me down, and I fought it back. I pushed myself up and stood in the middle of the stones' ring, giddy. Focus. I did so, not because I still had enough strength or will to do so, but because the habit, the rule had been drilled into me since infancy. It was a good thing that Onmyoujutsu training was as hard and merciless as it was, it was a good thing that the elders were so harsh when a young one came to them to be tested. A half wistful, half amused smile came to my lips as I remembered my own days of trial and how I had hated the elders for being heartless bastards who had pushed the young girl barely out of childhood whom I had been, had pushed her so far that she had been on the verge of breaking, her talent forever burnt out of her. At least now I understand why, was the weary thought which formed in my brain. Eventually, I remembered I ought to move away and complete the ritual. I stepped out of the ring of stones, my movements as slow and careful as those of a very old woman while I gingerly unraveled the web of shields that I had cast around the sacred place. Once I was done, I stripped out of my ceremonial robes and stepped towards the lone bucket of icy cold water which had been prepared so I could go through the purification ritual once the ceremony was over. Without allowing my mind to dwell on what I was about to do, I reached out and brought the full bucket above my head before spilling its contents over my body. Cold, curse it! I discarded the shaking of my body and stored the now empty bucket in its proper place. It was a hot late summer night, but still the shock of icy cold water flowing over my skin had nothing enjoyable about it. The only mundane advantage of the ritual was that it served to wake my lazy self up. I closed my eyes while water dripped down my body and formed a small puddle around my feet, waiting. Once most of it was gone, I toweled the rest of it dry and donned a very light yukata. It took me less than a minute to adjust the simple model which I had adopted and to belt it properly. The result wasn't exactly womanly, but it suited me fine. Turning back towards the abandoned ceremonial robes, I bent down and retrieved them from their bed of stones. Out of habit, I folded them with care and then took them with me as I exited the shrine. A small breeze was blowing, stirring the night's air and gently rustling the trees' leaves. I let the sweet music lull my brain, and reached the house yawning. My, but sleep would be good. "Tokio-san...." I turned sharply towards my right, startled by the quiet whisper. What my eyes had first perceived as a lantern left up on a small wall was in fact a young teenager who was holding up a light for me. I blinked, and then shook my head. "It's very late, Eiji-kun. You should be resting." The boy grimaced as my words reached him, and for a fraction of a second his face regained the sullen, angry expression which had been his on the day when my fool of a husband had brought this lost puppy home. Hajime, I wonder where.... With an inward sigh, I forced myself to focus on young Eiji instead of on ludicrous questions. The teenager was still too thin for his height. There certainly was strength in that slim, nervous body of long limbs, but there remained an overall feeling of fragility about the adolescent, which had to be taken care of. The boy had grown, he had built muscles in the few months during which he had been here. The change from the small, withdrawn and angry wild animal that Hajime had almost had to drag through the entry gate before dumping him flat on the porch's floor, to the young man who was now standing before me was both a wonder and a true joy which warmed the heart. "Well, so should you. The time is the same for both of us, isn't it, Tokio-san?" There was a lopsided grin on Eiji's face, half irony, half sulkiness at my gentle rebuke. With laughter sparkling in my eyes, I told him, "That's true, but I had a task to accomplish. You on the other hand--" "I have to take care of you. I made some tea for you to drink once you'd be done. If I hadn't, how'd have at this hour? And I know you need it, so there." Before I could react, he turned on his heels and started down the porch leading to my small office room and I followed in his steps with a bemused smile on my lips. Sudden wind rustling the sakaki trees' leaves. I paused right before entering my office and rested the palm of my hand against the sliding panel, blinking. Ima no wa.... A cold shiver ran up my spine, and then the breeze died, as abruptly as it had come. Nani? "Misao, what are you doing?" The young woman jumped as she heard her companion's voice cutting through the night, and then she secretly laughed up in triumph. It had worked! Unhurriedly, she turned towards Shinomori Aoshi and told him with the most guileless expression on her face, "Going back to the Aoiya of course, Aoshi-sama." With an inward grin at the doubtful look in his eyes, she offered, "It's the shortest way back." He stared beck at her in silence for a few seconds, and then eventually nodded with an almost imperceptible sigh. Laughing up her sleeve, Makimachi Misao started walking again, leading the way back to the place they both called home. Muffled laughter was filling the night around them, delicate women's laughter, and the telltale smell of perfume mixed with incense was floating in the air. Once in a while, one could also hear men's bass voices, mixing with the bell songs of the women's delicate laughter. Occasionally, the beautiful melody of a shamisen rose in the air, enchanting. Misao smirked as she noticed a furtive shadow moving along the houses' walls. The wind rose around them, coming from the east, and brought her the strong stench of the ghost's alcohol-filled breath. It looked as if that one had had enough for the night. Gentle laughter suddenly resounded from somewhere very close, and the young woman felt a slow blush coming to her cheeks. Discreetly, she spied her companion from the corner of an eye, and had the satisfaction to see the faintest of lines barring the brow of the normally emotionless man. Perhaps her little scheme held no chance of forcing her Aoshi-sama to clearly express something, anything towards her, but at least it had opened a crack in what had always felt as an unbreakable mask. Great, I can embarrass him...but how can this be useful to me? With a little sigh and a resigned shrug, Misao decided to leave the pondering of that most fascinating question for some indeterminate time in the future. First things first. She had managed to draw an emotion out of her Aoshi-sama after all, and that was no small feat. So it wasn't undying love for her, but hey, that would come. The young woman felt herself blushing crimson red. Yes, it would come one day...hopefully. Shinomori Aoshi didn't know whether he should have smiled or sighed in desperation. He was fully aware that this was yet another of Misao's ploys to force an emotional response out of him, he was used to them now, but this...this one was truly...unique. To go back to the Aoiya through the shortest road meant to skirt along the edges of the Shimabara quarter, and that was-- The young man's sharp ears suddenly picked up a barely audible thud coming from right behind them, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew that muffled sound, knew it very well indeed. Two or three steps in front of him, Misao froze, her finely honed senses having caught on the disturbance in the night as well. Good. Focusing a small fraction of his awareness on her, the leader of Oniwabanshu whirled around in a movement too fast for the eye to see, and flung himself towards the source of the sound. Here, in the alleyway they had just stepped by. There was a sharp hiss coming from behind Shinomori Aoshi, and truly he couldn't blame Misao for being unable to completely keep her reaction hidden. He could feel his heartbeats speeding up and blood pounding through his veins in response to the sight laid before his eyes. Ten steps away from them, a man was leaning back against the back wall of an inn. At first glance, one would have thought that he had merely stopped there for a few minutes to allow his head to clear from the alcohol he had ingested, but the very feeling which was filling the night around the stranger, and the sound they had just heard.... Shinomori Aoshi stepped towards the unmoving shape, his senses alert for the smallest sign of danger, but there was nothing, nobody here but for them and the.... Catching sight of a sudden movement, the Oniwabanshu leader danced to the side, pivoting on his left heel in a simple, fluid movement while the stranger brushed past him, falling headlong to the ground in a slow motion. With a steady stare at the prone shape, Shinomori Aoshi impassively noted the lack of blood on the wall, on the street or on the corpse itself. He nodded to himself, acknowledging the truth of the fleeting glimpse he had gotten of the man's face as he had stepped away to avoid touching the falling body. What had killed him had neither been a katana nor a gun. It had neither been a dagger nor a shuriken; it hadn't been poison, for there was no needle prick to be seen and no telltale scent in the air. Oh no. What had claimed his life had been fear. A terror which had made his heart burst and was still haunting the empty eyes, even though Death had come and gone away with its prize. Beside him, a distant part of Shinomori Aoshi saw Misao setting one knee down on the ground. In a weak whisper from which she managed to refrain the slightest trace of dread, the young woman said, " This is very recent, it can't have happened more than one minute ago. Then--" Shinomori Aoshi nodded, interrupting her. "The murder took place just as we walked past this alley," focusing his mind, he brought back the memories and feelings of that moment, " but..." quietly, he concluded, "nothing. I neither saw nor heard, nor felt anything wrong." "But that's impossible!" The muffled sound of Misao's right fist crashing down into the ground accompanied that furious statement. The Oniwabanshu leader watched the bowed head of the young woman, and didn't say anything. He understood the turmoil of emotions rising within her, he understood her refusal of the absurd reality that had unfolded before them. Almost, he could feel the same protestation in himself, that this was impossible, but.... Is it, really? As if in answer, a gentle breeze rose around them and deposited the smallest, most fragile of things in the palm of Shinomori Aoshi's right hand. During a long minute, he stared at it, his mind empty. From very far away, he felt his eyes widening and harshly reined in emotions which he refused to name or acknowledge. In a toneless voice, he told the young woman kneeling beside the corpse, "Come, Misao. The police will settle this." Thanks to some kind spirit, Misao didn't even try to argue his words. She looked up at him as she stood, and a strange light flickered in her eyes. Quickly, he walled away all trace of emotion from his face and turned his back on the young woman. He had closed his hand in time, she hadn't had a chance of catching sight of what was resting in his palm. As soundless as a ghost, Shinomori Aoshi walked away from the nameless corpse, blending in with the night. A grove of trees. A forest. Flowers. Death. A young woman, exquisitely beautiful. Her kimono, black and red. Crimson red. Crystalline laughter, resounding in a small clearing. Sudden wind, rising to her call. Words which had sounded like a prediction of what would be. No! Shinomori Aoshi bit his lower lip, uncaring of the unusual vehemence of his thoughts. Even though this was a very warm late summer night, he could feel something cold seeping into him and reaching out to gently close its claws upon his heart. He blinked as he fought back the irrational emotion which was clutching at him and was trying to claim him. He fought it back with all the will he had, this emotion called fear. He fought it back, as the fingers of his right hand crushed the impossible sakura blossom petal that he had hidden away. The sound is soft and quiet, a mere whisper which blends in with the peace of dusk. It's like the last drops of rain, once thunderstorm clouds have been chased beyond the mountain range by the wind. And yet everything is white. It's winter. It snowed yesterday. And everything is white. The little girl has fallen silent, but she can still hear the echoes of her happy laughter resounding in the corridor behind her. She's staring fixedly at the sight set in front of her eyes. She watches as Time freezes, and then she looks up. Keisuke-ojisan is here, smiling at her his gentle and warm smile. They face each other, unmoving, during what could be the time of a heartbeat or an eternity, and then he asks, "What are you thinking, little one, what are the thoughts that I can see racing behind your pretty eyes?" What she is thinking? But what does it mean? She stares at what is in front of her, numb. Something soft and icy cold falls into her open hand. A single snow flake, which is quickly followed by another. And another. And another. And another. The little girl brings her hand up and against her chest, ever so slowly. Keisuke-ojisan is smiling at her, patiently awaiting her answer. She closes her hand, and distantly feels her fingertips clutching at her kimono. There's something cold. There's something hot. There's something icy. There's something that burns. Here. Inside. Something that...hurts? Something that is trapped. A dragon and a phoenix who fight together. The little girl watches them just as she watches the stage that has been set before her eyes, just as she watches Keisuke-ojisan standing right beyond it. He's a painter, is Keisuke-ojisan. Everything that he does is a true work of art, just like her mother and father have told her with pride. There's a scent which is rising in the crisp, icy cold air. Sweet. Revolting. Good. Horrible. This time, Keisuke-ojisan's painting is crimson red on white, and as always, it's a masterpiece. The little girl watches the pools of bright red blood which are slowly spreading around the bodies of her mother and father. Their eyes are closed, as if they were asleep, really. Really. She looks up at Keisuke-ojisan. Death. An abyss. She's walking the line. She's a funambulist who stands on the edge and freezes Time as she spreads her arms over both sides of the chasm. It's snowing all around them; the wind has risen, and whirls the myriad of pure white flakes according to its whim. It whirls them round and round and round.... It's pretty, as pretty as the patches of ice and fire which are dancing inside of her. Dancing.... She feels a bit dizzy, and not too sure of her balance, but it's all right. Something warm is tickling her toes. She bows her head, and sees that the pools of blood have given birth to small rivulets of crimson red liquid which have drifted to reach her. It's cold, the little girl can see the smoke that her breath is giving rise to in the air. It's cold, and yet the blood which is pooling around her and now reaches up to cover her feet and engulf them is warm and thick. It's life. It's death. It's horrible. It's wonderful. She looks up at Keisuke-ojisan again, and stares at the dark brown eyes, stares at the gentle smiles which is only for her, and she feels something rising within. Something which has no name, something which is multiple; an avalanche of flames which is turning everything inside her into ice. She must answer Keisuke-ojisan's question. He's been waiting for her to reply for a long time now. He's been very patient, and she's really been a rude little girl. She ought to be ashamed, she knows. The avalanche within is still growing, she can feel it starting to shake her body. Scream or laughter, pain or pleasure. Everything and nothing at the same time. The right foot of the equilibrist that she has become suddenly leaves the line, and with slow deliberation goes deep into the void. Choice.... Shivers come up her spine as her equilibrist-self drowns. She looks into Keisuke-ojisan's eyes once more. And she laughs. "It's beautiful, oji-san. So beautiful!" She laughs, she laughs so hard that it brings tears to her eyes. Keisuke-ojisan stares back at her with something that looks like surprise shining in his eyes, as if he doubted what she's just said. But it's the truth! The pools of blood which have engulfed her feet, the snow mixed with the sakura petals falling all around her and the sound of her happy laughter rising in the air...all of that is beautiful beyond her ability to describe. What... Keisuke-ojisan studies her for a little while longer, and then...What else... he nods at her, with that special smile which is hers alone. His secret smile, that nobody but her has ever seen. He reached out to her, and she looks at his outstretched hand for a few seconds before holding out her own hand and resting it in Keisuke-ojisan's greater palm. She's still laughing as he gently steers her away from the garden, from the snow and blood, red and white garden over which snow keeps falling slowly, enveloping everything in silence, like a shroud. What else could I do?
End of Part 1.
Notes
Edo Castle: the fortress of the Tokugawa shoguns in Edo (Tokyo) during the Edo era.
Important note concerning the Sumeragi family, and more importantly Tokio's line within the clan: (if you read this, you will be spoiled for "Erin's Gift", you are warned)
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