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“Nagasone-san, are you alright?”
A pedestrian bumps into him on his right side, sending his scarf falling to the floor. He almost doesn’t notice it at first while he’s too busy staring at the pillar-like structure in front of him; Kyoto Tower at night is oddly mesmerizing with its strange architecture bathed in red and green lighting.
The saniwa starts to pick it up for him before he stops her and does so himself. He shakes off the dust before putting it back on over his Western-style jacket. He’s still getting used to the clothing of this era, but at least the scarf feels toasty and warm. “I’m alright, Aruji.”
“Gotta be careful around here. Lots of people are out and about for the holid一 agh!”
This time another pedestrian bumps into her, and she nearly stumbles to the floor. He catches her with one hand, and the other reaches for his blade 一 only to feel empty air. Right. No swords in this era.
The saniwa sees the motion of his hand and chuckles as she stands up. Nagasone relaxes at the sight of her smile. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s an era of peace. I guess people are too caught up in the holiday rush to look where they’re going.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. This era is still new to me.”
He looks around at the throngs of people crossing the street, then up at the strange yet alluring tower, then behind him at their destination: Kyoto Station, with its gridded glass facade reflecting the myriad of tiny lights from below. For an era of peace, it’s so much noisier than he expected. There’s the whoosh of various self-powered vehicles, the chatter of people, the faint snatches of unfamiliar festive tunes here and there. He glances about at the crowd, and the saniwa is right. There isn’t anything suspicious in sight, just groups of people holding onto colorful shopping bags or onto each other.
“I should be the one apologizing,” the saniwa says. She takes his hand and turns him around in the direction of the station, and Nagasone feels himself grow a little warmer at her touch. “I’m the one who asked you to come with me. Such a last-minute mission for them to send us on, really.”
“It is what it is.” Nagasone shrugs and gently pulls the saniwa away from a family about to collide with her. The crowds are so much thicker in this era, he thinks. “We can’t really let our guard down even during this... ah, holiday.”
She nods. “At least it’s one of those walk missions and not actual fighting. I’d hate to see you get hurt at this time of year.”
He wouldn’t mind getting hurt if it meant doing his job right, no matter the time of year, but he feels his chest grow lighter at her words anyway.
The saniwa tugs at his hand and they walk to the station, following the flow of the crowds. The outside is already a whirlwind of lights and noise and unfamiliar merriment, but the inside is even more so. Nagasone isn’t sure how he would describe it; it’s spacious and grand like a palace or shrine, but at the same time, nothing like it at all. There are walls and ceilings held up by pillars of metallic grey, signboards pointing to all sorts of destinations in illuminated characters, endless staircases that move on their own, and trees draped in coils of tiny bright lights. The groaning and whooshing of the trains are louder here, as is the chatter of travelers as the sounds echo off the walls.
Nagasone’s first instinct is to look around for any sort of threat. Walk missions are supposed to be safe, but perhaps some rogue faction of the History Retrograde Army is lurking by, having been tipped off on their presence. His eyes scan the station, trusting his experience as a battle blade, and thankfully finds nothing. What he does see, however, are a lot of couples. Couples dining in the upper floors, couples with armfuls of those same colorful shopping bags, couples holding hands as they stroll down the station and head up to the moving staircases. He looks down at his own hand holding on to the saniwa’s. She does too, and when their eyes meet, her cheeks turn pink.
“Well, Nagasone-san,” she says with a sly smile, “at least we fit in well this era. We look like a regular couple going on a date.”
He balks and his hands grow clammy. “Ah, well, if it helps us blend in一”
“I mean, yeah, it’s not actually a date,” she stammers, and Nagasone can feel her hand trembling slightly in his. “It could be if we wanted, it already looks like a date anyway, but it’s not, ‘cause there’s the whole walk mission thing...”
She trails off. Nagasone watches her face, and he feels his own start to heat up as well. He’s not sure how he feels about the saniwa’s suggestion. She’s correct that it’s not a date and he’s relieved that it isn’t, but for some reason, the idea of one doesn’t sound objectionable at all.
He clears his throat to chase away the thought. “Yeah, the mission... We need to find a good spot for the pin.”
The saniwa looks around, then up, then back at Nagasone. “Anywhere in the station is good, I think,” she says. “The place is remarkable enough that the protection should work just fine. But if you ask me, there’s a specific spot that I really want to see.”
“Let’s go, then!”
She leads him up to the first flight of moving stairs. It’s unsettling at first, but the motion is slow enough that Nagasone has no problem finding his balance. His gaze falls on a wide panel of screens on a high wall showing traditional scenes of Kyoto: the red torii of Fushimi Inari-taisha, the crisp foliage and golden pavilion of Kinkaku-ji, a woman in a stately kimono serving tea to guests.
“An era of peace,” he says to himself. He can’t help but sigh at the sights. The Kyoto of this era is different, but the sign of familiar customs gives him a wave of relief.
The climb up gives him a better overall view of the station too. So much of it is grey, he thinks, and the floor space feels disorienting, even with all the signs telling people where to go. He wonders what his former master would think. Perhaps he would have disliked such a deviation from traditional Japanese architecture, but then again, if he saw the value in a counterfeit, perhaps he too can find some overlooked beauty in this place.
“I think it’s nice in its own way,” the saniwa says, gazing at the panel of screens. “The style of this station is really different from your era, I imagine.”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine anything that would look like this.” He pauses, reflecting on the image of a bamboo pathway on the screen as the staircase moves past it.
“Do you dislike it?”
“I... I don’t think I can give a decent opinion on this. Styles and designs aren’t my strong suit.”
“Doesn’t have to be a decent opinion. I just want to know what you think.”
Nagasone scratches the back of his head. “I can’t say that I like all the metal and glass,” he confesses.
“That’s alright.” The saniwa’s hold on his hand remains firm but gentle as the moving staircase lurches towards the next floor. “I think I like traditional architecture more, too. Feels easier to breathe in, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They move through the space and ascend a few more moving staircases. The faint tunes of those unfamiliar Christmas songs start to play, and as they move higher up, the songs grow clearer and crisper. The saniwa starts to hum and tap at the rail of the staircase, and Nagasone smiles to himself. He’s heard her humming or singing to herself back at the citadel when she thinks no one is listening, and he isn’t sure why she’s so ashamed of it. She has a beautiful voice.
At last they reach one of the higher floors in the station, and Nagasone doesn’t need to look far to see where the saniwa intended for their spot. In front of them is a much wider staircase, unmoving this time but the center of attention. The edges of the steps are covered in lights that dance together with the music, forming the illusions of festive images as they do: first an array of many-pointed stars, then a deer-drawn sled flying over a crude cityscape. A small crowd has gathered in front of the staircase taking pictures while a few children hop up and down the stairs, trying to catch the sled.
Again he searches the perimeter for any threat, scanning each face in the crowd and keeping the saniwa at the edge of his view, but finds nothing once again to his relief. His eyes come to rest on the staircase display. The individual lights flicker in color and brightness, but as a whole they produce a seamlessly moving scene: from the deer-drawn sled gliding over the sky, then melting away as if it were nothing, then the scene transforming into a giant evergreen tree decorated with gold ribbons and baubles of red and white. It’s no fireworks display, but Nagasone can’t keep his gaze away from it.
The saniwa tugs at his hand. “Nagasone-san, look!”
Behind them is a real evergreen tree, even grander than the one made by the lights on the staircase. Its top, illuminated by a giant star-shaped lantern, nearly touches the station’s glass roof, and Nagasone has to crane his neck up to see it. In fact, the whole tree is awash with light, with some branches decorated with even more star-shaped lanterns and others by strings of tinier lights that remind him of fireflies. The saniwa stands completely in its shadow, yet her eyes are transfixed on the lights’ glow; the worries of the mission melt away from her face, and her expression relaxes into one of pure awe.
“Beautiful,” she whispers.
He watches her for a few moments, unable to interrupt her moment of bliss. Finally, he gives her a gentle tap on the shoulder.
She snaps back to reality and glances his way. “Oh, right! Sorry 一 the pin!”
It takes some time for them to weave through the crowd, but eventually they find a spot at a corner for them to place their pin. They stand to the side of the giant tree, away from the throng. Nagasone takes his time feeling for the best spot on the floor with his shoes while the saniwa stands close by. Once he’s satisfied, he kneels down at a spot in front of her and feels for the pin in the inside pocket of his jacket. His master claps her hands in delight.
Then a few other passersby start clapping, too, and some gasp or cheer. A young couple watches them with a dreamy gaze. Nagasone jolts up, now on high alert. He turns to the saniwa 一 she’s alright, but her face is red.
On instinct he takes a defensive stance but his master, undaunted by the situation, moves forward and starts talking to the observers. “No, it’s一 it’s not what it looks like, sorry!” She bows to them, then motions for Nagasone to step back. “He一 he was doing something else. Sorry, sorry. Please carry on.”
The passersby start to walk away. A few bow in apology, and the couple shake their heads. The saniwa turns back to him and he raises his eyebrows at her. “Aruji, what happened?”
“Ah, yeah, well. In this era, ah...” She flushes an even brighter red, and tilts her head down to bury her chin in her scarf. “When you want to propose marriage to someone, you...” She stammers and awkwardly pantomimes kneeling down and pulling something out of her coat pocket. “That’s how you would do it. You kneel and give them a ring... to tell them that you want to marry them.”
So that’s what it looked like he was doing.
Now it’s Nagasone’s turn to flush red, and pulls the pin out of his pocket. It’s still there and not a ring, thankfully, and its glassy head is still pulsing with enough protective energy to keep the place’s history intact. But after that strange moment, it feels wrong to set it down at this spot.
“Oh... sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“It’s alright, that’s not what you meant to do, of course... the pin...”
“Yeah, I... this seemed like a good spot... I should have been more discreet.”
They go silent for a few moments. The saniwa shoves her hands in her coat pockets and gazes down at the floor, but she lets out a muffled laugh.
The thought of proposing marriage to her 一 a human, his master 一 sounds absurd, and in the middle of an unfamiliar era, no less! But as he watches her, he wonders if the idea of his master getting married really is so strange. Humans, his former master included, have been marrying all throughout history. And besides, the saniwa is a kind woman and a capable leader. She has always been kind to him especially, caring little about his status as a counterfeit and instead extending him the same care that she does to everyone else. Why should it be so strange that someone with her heart should become a wife?
He’s not sure why, but he thinks of her smile, the sound of her humming in her citadel office, and the way she sneaks her hand into his when they’re out on a walking mission, and he wonders how it would feel to marry someone like that…
“We... we should put the pin somewhere else.”
The saniwa’s voice snaps Nagasone out of his thoughts. She once again reaches for his hand, and again he fills with that now comforting warmth. He still hasn’t quite grasped human emotions, he realizes.
“Right.” He clears his throat again. “Let’s finish the mission.”
They head away from the crowd around the illuminated staircase and towards a different set of moving staircases, this one moving back down to where they came. Nagasone points at a more discreet spot on the other side of the station, and the saniwa nods in agreement.
She’s silent for most of the walk until they reach the second moving staircase.
“Oh, Nagasone-san, I was thinking...” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe we can stay for a little while after we set the pin down.”
“Stay?”
“Get a drink, maybe? We should rest up before we head back. There’s a department store here too, you can get something nice for Urashima...”
He chuckles at the idea. He still isn’t too fond of this station, but spending a little more time with his master sounds nice.
“Alright. We can do that, aruji.”