Heading on my way back to the Kite, which should be opening very soon, I have taken a slow pace through Tokyo.
I imagine the city around me to be like a river in high summer, flowing past me, taking the cold away by virtue of sheer motion. All around me are the sounds and smells of countless people and the lives they hold close.
I note that my hearing is continuing to improve; my ears are healing. It won't be long before they will be what they were, or so I hope.
It has been a very peculiar day.
Pensively strolling, I consider the faces who pushed their way into the winter of my afternoon, and the inevitable question arises.
What am I to do?
Decisions have been made. I have resolved what must be with the old man who calls himself my father, at least... and I realize that now, being the Yukishiro myself, that I have family honor to attend to.
Which before, was only justice for my sister.
'e-chan.
The riddle continues to torment me like frosty needles.
Is that finished? Can it ever be finished?
Not while the monster lives, the whispers come.
The journal in my pocket is more and more a maze, though it is a maze filled with 'e-chan's voice.
With all the echoes now, I cannot understand what she is trying to tell me.
What more must I do for the old man?
Must I treat the murderer as my brother-in-law, even now?

I realize that I have been losing these questions of honor and duty in business, and I decide for the moment to consider something other.

(Enishi is strolling through Tokyo, en route to the Kite, deep in thought. Encounter him at your own risk.)

My return to the Kite was inobtrusive. After my conversation with Takani, I had sat in the silence of my house, locked away in thought until I turned my head and realized that night had long since come.
A few hours of thankfully dreamless sleep, pure oblivion, and then the day.
Kibagami-san gives me my messages, discusses the business. I absorb the words without expression, part of my mind still turning over Takani's words, examining them, memorizing them.
I find it curious how quickly she cuts to the heart of things, but then, a doctor should know exactly where to cut.
In that, we are much alike.
Later, in my office, hands warmed by a cup of tea, I force my mind to business, and away from Takani's understated elegance.
There is something bothersome in my regard for the doctor, which I would prefer to not consider
because it is easy to consider it too much
so I attack the numbers and papers and notes.
A sip of tea, feeling the warmth branch into my body, and I see that the Kite's business has been modestly good. As favored patrons accumulate, it will increase, especially once gambling begins to move more money. I notice that my choice in entertainers has also been good; some of them have brought their prior patrons with them.
Ignoring the sounds of the ghosts shuffling outside, I also mull over the message Kibagami-san gave me about the old man.
It must be the man who says he is my father.
What could he possibly want?
He can't make reparations. Some things can never be made whole again.
some people can never be made whole again

"Kibagami-san... arrange a sake tasting for tomorrow night. I've set aside funds for the purchases... also, if anyone pays a call and wants to speak to me, I'll be in my office. Send them in."

(Enishi is doing some accounting, both internal and external. Feel free to stop in and interrupt him.)

He left me.

Left me half-naked and tied to a bed with no means of defending myself.

Well, it's not like I could defend myself anyways.

Not in this condition.

But still...HE LEFT ME!

I have no clue where I am at or what time of day it is.

Not that it matters.

I can't say that I blame him for leaving me, not after I pulled that knife on him.

But I sort of wish he would come back and do whatever he did the last time to render me unconscious.

It hurts.

A lot.

I stare up at the ceiling, feeling extremely tired yet unable to sleep.

I wonder what happens if I need to use the bathroom?

I close my eyes once more.

((As you may already know, Shura is located here. Anyone can stumble upon her, using a little creativity of course.))

With my box swinging gently alongside me, I walk briskly towards the address indicated on the note delivered by the strange messenger boy.

I wonder exactly what sort of 'ailment' I might be asked to deal with this time? These old ladies usually want something particular for their legs, or their skin, or their eyes, and so on and so on.

I do hope this won't take long. I have to return to the clinic and get ready for what promises to be an interesting party. I am very much looking forward to the idea of teasing Kaoru for her 'absence' this morning.

As I draw up to the gates of what appears to be a respectable looking home, I check the address on the note again. Assured that I am in the right place, I begin to knock.

We enter. Yukishiro-san is sitting at his desk, reading something.

If this were the usual me, I'd hop over to where he is, try to read over his shoulder, maybe even grab the book to get his attention.

But she is here, and her presence pricks me like a thousand pins.

I stand at a distance, politely. "Yukishiro-san. This is Shinoda-san, who wants a job here."

(Somewhere inside my mind, I suddenly have an image of Shinoda-san as the doorman and me as a serving girl. It almost makes me smile. Almost.)

A hot bath and new clothes (tonight I decided upon something traditional; gi and hakama in a good dark grey), and time finds me seated comfortably at the Kite again, as business has begun. The few early arrivals are just warming up for their evening, sipping at tea or sake and listening to the plaintive sounds of Hana playing her shamisen.
It's been a long and peculiar day. Not so many ghosts, but the whispers have been present; I expect they will get louder as night comes. But as I have tea, I look at my sister's words, her perfect calligraphy, and I am soothed somewhat.
Even so, blood haunts me. I can smell it still.
COming across the tattered woman on the way back to Tokyo has been a curiosity. What had happened? I would prefer to be uninvolved, but it is interesting. Some last grudge? Some forgotten vengeance? A mission?
No, it seemed very personal, at least to the woman.
I understand 'personal' very well.
Realizing that my teeth are clenching
the old anger again
I take a deep breath and follow the careful flourishes of 'e-chan's handwriting, remembering her practicing, sleeve carefully held in one hand, brush perfectly poised.
Everything she did was perfect. I never understood why she never realized how self-sufficient she was in her beauty.
Ruined, gone, stolen, taken, lost.
Because of him. The murderer.
who she loved, and if 'e-chan was perfect, how could she be mistaken?
Bending my thoughts away from that, I attempt to stay in the beauty of the ink on the paper before me. But I am feeling uncertain.

Despite all else, I still don't understand, and the haunting has not gone away.


(Enishi is seated in his own private area in the Kite, visible from the front door. Kibagami-san is acting as greeter for the early arrivals. The front door enters through a small welcoming area with storage for weapons and shoes, and then into the main tea serving area, connected to the kitchen, where most patrons spend their time observing performances on a small stage of sorts. Ladies act as company at the tables. A doorway in the back leads to a small hall, from which extend several gambling rooms, accessible only by favored patrons or those invited by favored patrons. Stairs lead upstairs for rooms for more private (and expensive) entertainment.)

The skitter of something across my face wakes me, and I open my eyes, only to find myself in a pile of leaves. I hear the rodents underfoot, and smell the stench of something awful.

Everything is quiet, as night slowly passes into day.

Everything, except That Room.

( Kindred Spirits )

And the sound wails on.

After losing the trail a few times and circling my way to find it again, I have reason to believe that I have found the place. Emotions are running high in the area. Visceral.

Taking care to stay in the shadows, I am not pleased to find just a hint of Takani's presence. And though I cannot be sure it is her, it not something I would liken to her now. Not something I would ever want to liken her to.

It is...near hysteria. It is something of an emotion that cuts deeply, thinking on it now. Something I would not want to invoke in her ever again. On the edge recognition, but different in some vital way.

With caution (and yes, a bit of recklessness), I draw my blade and creep to the door. With the end of the sheath, I strike a single note on the untreated wood.

"Yukishiro."

And I do not know how I know it is him, but I do now, and that is testament to my years of living on the edge, moment-by-moment by the sharpness of my steel.

Alley after alley, a maze takes me at last to a quiet place where I can be undisturbed. Swiftly, I slip into the place, pegging the door shut and moving through the dusty remains of furniture.
I set the doctor down in the gloom, and whip the blanket free, one hand ready to stop her if she tries to run, and then I look directly at her.
"Don't move," I say softly.
I feel fire pooling in my stomach.
"Please." I add. 'e-chan always told me to be polite.
Moving to spark a candle into life, it makes wavering inky blotches on the wall. The warmth isn't quite enough to keep the winter away.
Setting the candle carefully down, I crouch in front of the doctor, and take my spectacles off.
"I need you."