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Chapter Text

The heavy heat of summer was coming to an end, the green leaves of the trees were just beginning to crisp, and Kagami was sitting beside Jiromasu and Goro on at the end of the dock, wriggling her toes in the cool water as the two men cast into the slowly eddying water of the river. The quieter currents created by the breakwater of tumbled boulders that protected their dock were popular with the river’s piscine population and several ayu already graced the dock’s rough wooden boards. She looked around at the sounds of footsteps on the dock to see their major-domo, Yuki, walking towards them, her face a careful neutral that told Kagami that the woman was worried about something. She felt a sudden tension through her link to Jiromasu as her cousin glanced over his shoulder and he, too, noticed the woman’s carefully blank expression. Not true worry, just a heightening of alertness.

“Yuki-san,” he said quietly, keeping his voice low to stop from spooking the fish. He jerked at the rod he held, flicking the line and its lure across the surface of the river. “What brings you down to find us?”

“Forgive me, Jiromasu-sama, but there is a heimin woman at the door requesting to speak to Kuni Goro-sama. She says she has a message for him.”

Goro grunted as his line jerked and he began to pull his catch in. “Bring her down here, then,” he said.

“Yes, Goro-sama,” Yuki said. She bowed to Goro’s back - he had turned back to the task of dealing with the fish he had caught - and walked back up to the house. Kagami twisted around to watch her go, her eyes narrowing at the woman’s slightly stiff back. Something about this visitor had their housekeeper uncomfortable and Kagami was now eager to see the woman and, for the sake of her curiosity, hopefully learn of this message she was to deliver.

Kagami dithered for a moment, then pulled her feet out of the water and rose, stepping back away from her cousin and her friend to open the painted parasol that had been lying on the dock beside her to shade herself from the sun’s hot rays. Yuki had said it was just a heimin who had arrived, but it wasn’t one of her heimin and sitting on the dock, kicking her feet in the water like a child, was not quite dignified. Her kimono skirts, which she had hiked up to stop the hems trailing in the water, dropped down to camouflage her bare feet.

Yuki was returning from the house, the stranger following after her. Kagami’s curiosity rose further. She was a youngish woman, probably several years older than Kagami herself, and was dressed in a plain but sturdy kimono in the rusty orange that was common among the Phoenix heimin, with a few thick red cords forming a criss-cross pattern across her torso. She looked uncertain, a letter clutched in one hand.

The sound of Yuki’s feet on the boards of the dock pulled the men’s focus from their fishing and they gathered in their lines, turning to face the two heimin women, who had halted a respectful distance away. Kagami glanced at Goro, but his face showed no recognition of the stranger. He scowled. 

“Kuni Goro-sama, Kakita Jiromasu-sama, Asahina Kagami-sama, this is Meiko from Mura Mura,” Yuki said, then stepped to the side slightly. The young woman bowed respectfully to the samurai.

“Meiko-san.” Goro’s voice was clipped. “I was told you have a message for me?”

The woman swallowed. Her face had lost what colour it had had at the sight of the Kuni’s scowl and his impatient tone. Kagami felt a surge of sympathy. She knew that the scowl and the tone likely stemmed from the Kuni’s immediate assumption that any unknown communication directed to him reflected some reemergence of Shadowlands creatures or influence. The Kuni’s ire was not directed at the messenger - at least not yet - but at the potential dangers to be found in the letter she carried; all the woman saw, however, was an irritated samurai whose day she was interrupting. She watched as the woman took a fortifying breath.

“Yes, Kuni Goro-sama,” she said, stepping forward and holding out the letter towards him in a hand that only shook a little. “I have been asked to deliver this letter to you.”

Kagami noted that the letter was written on coarse, low-quality paper as Goro glanced briefly at the plain seal - no clue to the sender in the letter’s presentation - and unfolded it. The man quickly scanned the message penned there - Kagami restrained her curiosity and did not move to peek around his shoulder at the message’s contents, but it was a close thing - then his scowl deepened and he reread the letter again, more slowly this time. He looked up, turning his scowl on the woman before him. “You know what this letter contains?” he asked.

The woman’s eyes were on the ground. “Yes, Kuni Goro-sama,” she said. 

“And you believe in its truth.”

“Yes, Kuni Goro-sama.”

“And you would do as it says.”

“Yes, Kuni Goro-sama.”

“Why?”

Meiko looked up briefly, her eyes flashing with defiance before she dropped them again. “She is my dearest friend,” she said. “And this is what is right.”

Goro’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the nervous young woman. Jiromasu looked intrigued and Kagami was reasonably sure that Meiko’s comment regarding doing the right thing while clearly scared herself had piqued his interest.

There was a brief silence, broken by an angry squalling that made Meiko wince and caused Kagami to startle. The heimin woman twisted around and Kagami suddenly realised that the red bands across Meiko’s chest were the straps to an onbuhimo as she extricated a tiny, well-wrapped infant and bounced it in her arms. To Kagami’s relief, the child settled quickly, its piercing cries quieting to a restless grumbling. The child was clearly very young, probably no more than a moon or two old, and Kagami was surprised that Meiko had chosen to travel from as far away as Mura no Mura so quickly after the child’s birth. It spoke to the urgency of her message. She glanced over at Goro and blinked. The scowl was gone, replaced by something unreadable, his lips folded into a thin line. The Kuni stepped slowly forward and reached out to pull a fold of blanket away and look down into the tiny face. The baby blinked up at the shugenja peering down at him and Kagami’s breath caught as she glanced back and forth between the two of them as they stared at each other, both with one brown eye and one eye an angry red with a golden, goat-slitted iris, the skin around it also reddened and shiny.

Oh.

She shot a startled look at Jiromasu in time to see his eyebrows rising as he, too, made the connection.

“Goro-san?” Jiromasu asked, his voice a carefully calculated level of curious.

The Kuni shoved the hand still holding the letter towards Jiromasu. “Yuki-san,” he said, “Find a room for Meiko-san and Totiro-kun.” He frowned down at the infant and then reached out to touch one thick, scarred finger to the child’s cheek. The baby turned its head towards the contact, opened its mouth, and latched on to the tip of the man’s finger, sucking hard for a moment before opening his mouth again in a wail of disgust. Goro’s expression was startled and Kagami clapped a hand over her mouth, amusement and consternation combining to make maintaining any sort of control over her expression difficult at best. Then she winced as the child’s wail became more pronounced and Meiko shot an apologetic glance at Goro.

“I am sorry, Kuni Goro-sama,” she said. “He is hungry.”

Kagami was moving over towards her cousin in order to read what was in the letter that Jiromasu had taken from Goro’s hand, but she caught the Kuni’s amused snort. 

“Go feed him then.”

She reached her cousin’s side and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, pulling downwards until he lowered the letter far enough that she could read it as well. The paper was just as cheap as she had initially thought, the kanji a faded, watery black that indicated equally cheap ink, and the writing was the careful, slightly shaky penmanship of those who were literate but who rarely found the need to practice writing.

Honourable Kuni Goro-sama, 

I apologise for disturbing you, but our meeting in Mura no Mura had a predictable but unintended consequence. I had taken the moon tea afterwards, but the Fortunes decreed that a child would be the result of that night we spent together, regardless of my caution. When I recognised that a child had quickened inside me, I had several months to prepare and had thought I was ready for the challenges I would be facing. Then Totiro was born, and his Kuni parentage was unmistakable, and I realised that I was not equipped to raise a samurai child in all that he will need to know to take his rightful place in Chisana Basho.

It turns out that I am not equipped to raise any child, but a dear friend’s grief allowed her to help ensure your son was fed and she offered to bring him to you. Meiko-san is willing to stay with Totiro-kun to ensure he is fed and cared for until he is weaned, should you desire it. And while I am unable to be the mother Totiro-kun deserves, I am sure he will grow up to far eclipse the low nature of his mother’s parentage.

In humble obedience,

Yuriko no Mura no Mura.

Kagami counted back the months in her head. It must have been either just before or at the beginning of Winter Court. She was all but certain he had not had time to… to… for that while searching for her or while they were hunting down Junichiro, so it must have been during the time he and Tetsunotaka had been searching for Reiko. She had not listened all that carefully to the story of that pursuit - she was glad she never had to deal with any of them again, but thinking on it had been uncomfortable - but the name Yuriko was familiar, even if she could not place it.

“Yuriko. The doshin from Mura no Mura?” Jiromasu asked the Kuni’s retreating back.

“Hai.” Goro did not turn around and, while Yuki led Meiko in through the door to the kitchens, the Kuni turned left to enter the living areas, disappearing from their view.

Her cousin turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “Moon tea?” he asked. 

Kagami flushed a little. “It is a medicine that a woman can take if she does not want to carry a child. It changes the body’s elemental balance to prevent the pregnancy. But it is not infallible.”

“So it would seem,” Jiromasu said with wry humour. “We should go find Tetsunotaka-san and warn him. I would imagine that Goro-san intends on leaving as soon as possible.”

“But why?” Kagami asked, brow furrowed. “The child has been brought to him with everything needed.” She looked up at him. “Goro-san told Yuki-san to give them a room. Are they not going to be staying here from now on?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. There were other children among the heimin servants, but they were all old enough to be quiet and unobtrusive and were helpful for running quick errands. She felt her stomach drop suddenly. “Is he going to take it back to Kuni lands?” She would rather deal with a screaming baby every day than lose Goro’s gruff, good-hearted presence. 

“I think he intends to go talk to the child’s mother,” Jiromasu said, patting her hand before untangling his arm from hers in order to gather together the fishing gear. He handed the two poles to Kagami to carry and quickly tossed the fish he and Goro had caught into a bucket, hefting it as he turned towards the house. “But it is Goro-san. Once he has decided on a course, it is best to try and keep up with him, lest you get left behind as he charges ahead. And while I do not feel that you or I have any need to join him on this trip, Tetsunotaka-san would be greatly irritated if Goro-san leaves without him.”

They paused just inside the door to step into house-slippers and to hand off the fish and fishing gear to the heimin servant who greeted them, then turned down the hallways in search of their Daidoji friend.

***

He had a son. 

He had not expected to have children any time soon - perhaps not ever, all things considered - and there had been a part of him that had regretted that, even as his current life had been full of the interesting and the unusual. And now the Fortunes had seen fit to grant him a child. Unexpectedly. Without time to prepare. And with the child’s mother being a heimin doshin. He stopped, then reversed course, heading towards the servants’ wing. One of the maids stopped what she was doing to bow to him as he approached.

“Where did Yuki-san put Meiko-san and the baby?” he demanded.

“She is in the servants’ common room while a room is being prepared, Goro-sama,” the girl said. She hesitated. “Would you like me to show you where that is?”

Goro shook his head. He had prowled all over the house on the nights he couldn’t sleep. It was not designed with defense in mind and he had wanted to know it inside and out in case he ever needed to do battle within its walls. “I know where it is,” he said and turned his steps towards the stairs that led up to the small common room.

It was a tidy, cheerful room. The tatami mats on the floor were worn but of good quality - when the tatami mats in the samurai sections of the house were replaced, the old ones were brought here, where the quality of them was appreciated even as their appearance was no longer appropriate for the yoriki’s status - and Meiko was seated by one of the open windows, Totiro latched to her breast as he made hungry little gulping noises. She had been looking down at him, her face a little sad as she stroked one hand over the fine black hair on the baby’s head, and she looked up at the sound of the door pulling open. Her eyes widened when she saw him there and she struggled to try and get up in order to bow.

Goro frowned, waving his hand at her to stay put. “Don’t bother,” he said. His eyes were drawn to the small form cradled in her arms and he couldn’t stop himself from watching the child feeding. The silence stretched out.

“Was… was there something you wanted, Kuni-sama?” the woman asked finally.

Goro blinked, pulling his eyes away from the way that the baby’s hand fisted into the cloth of the woman’s kimono, the ridiculously tiny fingers clenching and releasing against the worn fabric. “Is Yuriko-san still employed as a doshin, or did her being with child cause them to release her?”

The nervousness in the woman’s eyes faded a little. “Oh. No, she is still doshin. Her captain did not want to lose her skills. She was not able to work for the final few months of her pregnancy, but she recovered from childbirth quickly and, when it was clear that she was not going to be able to feed Totiro-kun herself, she returned to her patrols.”

Totiro finished his meal and released Meiko, who quickly adjusted her clothing and then looked at Goro as the babe gave a tiny belch and squirmed a little in her arms. “Would you like to hold him, Kuni-sama?” she asked uncertainly.

Goro could feel his frown deepening. Did he want to hold the child? He had never had much to do with babies, but this one was his. With that eye, passed down from father to son for generations now, there was no questioning the boy’s paternity. His lips thinned and he gave a curt nod. The heimin woman got gracefully to her feet, despite the burden in her arms, and moved over to him. She gave him a quick, assessing look as he watched her approach and then paused in front of him.

“When they are this young,” she said, “they cannot support their heads. It is important that you keep their heads and necks supported either by your hand or your arm. Hold your arms like mine are and I’ll give him to you.”

He glanced at how she was holding her arms - close across her front, bent at the elbow - and tried to mimic it. She smiled and tugged his elbow out just a little before laying Totiro in his arms, the child’s head resting in the crook of his arm. The babe was a small, slight weight, barely noticeable, but was surprisingly warm. Totiro blinked up at him, eyes sleepy, and yawned. His little fist waved in the air and then the baby tucked it up against his side and closed his eyes, dropping immediately into slumber. Goro stood there for a long time, staring down at the sleeping child, his mind too discombobulated to form coherent thoughts. The fragility of the little life in his arms. The trust in its protectors that it fell so easily asleep. The heat radiating from its tiny form. The perfection of its fingers, loosely clenched into a fist and so very, very small. The little snub nose and the thin, fine black hair that covered its head. The angry-looking red skin around its left eye, identical to that of its father’s. Goro found himself once again thankful that his eye had never caused him physical pain. He would not have wished that on a helpless child. 

“She changed her mind when he was born,” Goro said, finally. “She was going to look after him herself until then.” 

“Yes, Kuni-sama,” the woman said. “But when he was born, it was clear that there was no question who his father was. And no question as to him being a samurai child. And she realised she could not. Not and give him the life he was entitled to. It would have been an insult to the celestial order.”

“And you are prepared and willing to give up possibly years of your life to feed and care for him?” The young woman had said as much, but it made little sense. Unless she was in dire straits that made the possible generosity of a samurai patron towards his son’s wet-nurse enough of an incentive. Though, given her fear when she had brought him Yuriko’s letter, that seemed unlikely.

“Yes.” Meiko looked away out the window, a watery smile on her lips. “I have my reasons, Kuni-sama. They may not make sense to all, but they make sense to me. And I think it comforted Yuriko-san, to know that I would come with him for at least this first part of the journey.”

“And why did she not come?” There was anger there regarding that, he suddenly realised. That she had not come herself. That she had let him know of what had happened via letter sent through this young woman rather than face him herself. Had sent her child - their child -  off into the future in this young woman’s arms. The journey was along main roads, which were well patrolled, but it was still potentially dangerous. Especially for a young woman travelling alone.

Meiko blinked, turning back to face him. “She had been unable to work for several months, Kuni-sama,” she said. “And she had been trying to feed three on what little she had saved. There was only enough for one of us to come, and Totiro-kun needed to be fed.”

Goro bit down on the frustration and anger that spiked at that admission. Yuriko could have sent him a letter to let him know her condition. Instead, she had chosen to suffer. Had intended on raising his son alone if he hadn’t been born with so unmistakable a resemblance to his father. And had nearly beggared herself because of it.

He went to turn, to stride from the room, but was brought up short when the initial movement rocked the child cradled in his arms and he was abruptly aware once again of the small, over-warm form. He turned back to Meiko. “Take him,” he said stiffly. She immediately stepped forward to scoop him up, holding him close while she eyed him warily. Goro hesitated again, wanting desperately to just stomp from the room to deal with this flare of temper, but he did not want his child’s nurse to fear him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in and releasing it, then he looked at the woman. “You have a place here,” he managed. “Sanctuary here. While you need it. The child is acknowledged.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you, Kuni-sama,” she said. “I apologise. This must have been a shock for you.”

“No fault of yours,” he said, then turned abruptly and stalked from the room. Yuki and the others could see to the woman and the child for a few days. He needed to get to Mura no Mura.

Chapter Text

“There you are!” 

Tetsunotaka looked up with a smile as Kagami came bursting into the room where he was reading a book on the War of the Scorpion, a conflict that had occurred when two branches of the Imperial family had found themselves in opposition, their conflicting intra-clan goals expressed as inter-clan conflict as each brought proxies to bear. It had been a shameful, deceitful chapter of Rokugani history and the treatsie included strategies by which to avoid any similar conflicts. He was reviewing it with an eye to the challenges faced by Chisana Basho, with the Lion lands in the north and the formerly Phoenix lands to the south and the tension of the province being newly under Crane control. The parallels would not be exact, but he thought that some of the preventative strategies might have value in their current situation. The little shugenja was bright eyed and flustered, a pretty flush to her cheeks as she bounced into the room ahead of her cousin, and he once again found himself agreeing with her sensei… Little Sparrow was a remarkably apt pet name for her.

“Good afternoon, Kagami-san, Jiromasu-san. You were looking for me?”

“We were,” Jiromasu said. He was calmer than his cousin, but his eyes were also bright with an internal energy that indicated that sometime worth attending to had happened. ‘We thought you could use some warning.”

That was ominous. But the little half-smile on his face was one of actual amusement, not his courtly mask of ironic detachment, so it was clearly nothing too dire. “Warning?”

The two cousins exchanged glances and something unspoken passed between them. Tetsunotaka felt a twinge of envy. They had always had a close bond, had seemed to know what each other was thinking before it was spoken, but it had become amplified in recent months and he was certain he was not imagining it. The other evening, Goro and the three bushi had been playing dice late into the night, Kagami having gone to bed earlier, and Jiromasu had suddenly stiffened, excused himself, and left the room. He had returned some few minutes later with a hollow-eyed Kagami, who had tucked herself under his arm and watched their game with a miserable expression that had gradually faded back into contentment before she had finally dozed off against his side. Tetsunotaka had helped put her back to bed, opening doors for Jiromasu after he had scooped her up to carry her back upstairs.  She had been through a lot. A few nightmares were only to be expected. He had done his best to ignore the pain deep in his chest as he watched her turning in her sleep to snuggle against her cousin’s chest with a formless little sigh, to deny the jealousy and the forbidden desire to once again experience that trusting warmth held safely in his arms.

“Yoriki House is entering a new era,” Jiromasu said finally, after an impatient little motion from Kagami. Clearly she thought him best able to explain. Not uncommon if it did not involve the kami.

“A new era.” Tetsunotaka placed the slip of paper he was using for a bookmark into The Scorpions’ War and put it aside, giving the Kakita his full attention.

“Yes. It would seem that Kuni Goro-san is to be a father. Is a father. And that the pitter-patter of tiny samurai feet will soon be part of the normal state of affairs here at Yoriki House.”

Tetsunotaka frowned, thinking hard. He knew that Goro was not married. And there had been no previous indication that he was currently inclined to become so, nor that his clan was planning it. And Jiromasu had said he was already a father, which indicated that the child was already born. And surely if the child had been begotten on a samurai-ko, there would already have been the need for him to stand before someone’s blade to deal with the insult to honour. Which left a child born of a heimin woman. He knew there had been more than a few of those that Goro had kept company with over the past few years. Once they got past his fearsome appearance, heimin seemed to like the gruff, coarse Kuni whose gentle actions always belied his acerbic words. But a samurai’s child, born of a heimin mother, was still a samurai. “And the child is here?”

“Brought here by his wet-nurse,” Kagami agreed. She shifted a little uncomfortably. “It is very small and very loud.”

“Babies tend to be,” Tetsunotaka said absently. “Goro-san claims it? He is certain it is his?”

“There is no question there,” Jiromasu said with a smile, touching his left eye. “It turns out that certain traits are, indeed, hereditary and Goro was not simply telling tales to a mad-man when he said that his evil eye passes from father to son.”

Tetsunotaka nodded thoughtfully. “How is Goro-san taking it?”

“He frowned a lot,” Kagami said wryly. Tetsunotaka gave her a little smile. Yes, that was their Kuni.

“I think he is still somewhat in shock,” Jiromasu said. “He ordered Yuki-san to prepare the child and its nurse a room. The baby is named Totiro and the nurse is called Meiko.”

“I think he is pleased,” Kagami said. “Well, pleased that the child is here. When he first saw it, he had a very unusual expression on his face. And he touched its cheek so gently. But he is not pleased that it took until now to learn about it. Let him read the letter from Yuriko-san, Jiromasu!”

Yuriko. Tetsunotaka cast his mind back for the name as he took a folded sheet of paper from Jiromasu. Ah, right. The intelligent doshin woman from Mura no Mura. He was unsurprised that the two of them had ended up in bed together. Goro appreciated skill in others and she had been effective and efficient and had helped speed them on their way, and the two of them had been laughing and drinking together when he had gone to bed. And she had had a reasonable appearance, though she had been no beauty and was not to Tetsunotaka’s taste. He smiled wryly to himself. It had been some time since he had done more than glance with brief aesthetic appreciation at any other woman. His taste was for small and soft and confiding now and it had a very narrow focus, to his ongoing chagrin. He flipped open the letter, pulling his memory away from the sensation of her little hand tucked into his elbow, just like she did with her cousin, and the feel of her resting safe and warm in his arms, and read the letter’s contents.

Kuso . 

“He is going to ride for Mura no Mura, isn’t he?” Tetsunotaka said with a sigh.

“It seems probable,” Jiromasu said. He managed to sound cheerfully amused and apologetic at the same time, a feat that Tetsunotaka had to admire. “The question will be whether he leaves this evening or if you can convince him to wait for the morning.” He gave Tetsunotaka a smile. “We thought it likely that you were the one who would have the best chance at convincing him to wait until tomorrow.”

Tetsunotaka gave a small smile as he pulled himself to his feet. “If we leave now, he will have to sleep rough tonight, as there are no villages to rest at. Yuriko-san is not going anywhere. It will not be hard to get him to delay. Still, it is probably best that I go remind him of that fact.”

“We will not give you any cause for delay,” Jiromasu said. He glanced over at where Kagami had moved to one of the shelves which had been stacked with the scrolls she had collected or written over the past few years. She was pawing through them, muttering under her breath. “Kagami, what are you looking for?”

“Scrolls on babies,” the little shugenja said, her frown deepening. “I have one on helping a woman carry a baby to term, but nothing about what to do about them once they’ve been born. Babies are fragile, Jiromasu. They catch colds and illnesses and they do not have the strength of an adult to overcome them. But I’ve never really had to worry about healing them before.”

Tetsunotaka felt the familiar warmth flooding his chest that was so common when he watched Kagami being… well, being Kagami. He could feel his lips tugging upwards into a fond smile as he turned to leave the room. He caught Jiromasu’s eye and the other bushi gave him a wry grimace and rolled his eyes a little. Tetsunotaka’s smile broadened and he stepped through the door to go in search of his charge. Jiromasu was more than capable of heading off Kagami’s spiral into irritation at not having the correct scrolls available to her. He had another prickly shugenja to go manage. He walked up the stairs and tapped on the man’s door. There was no answer and no sound of movement within. Before he had even begun to consider where else the Kuni might be, there was the sound of familiar footsteps and Tetsunotaka turned to see an irritated looking Goro striding down the hallways.

“I understand we will be heading to Mura no Mura tomorrow,” Tetsunotaka said mildly. Goro came to a stop, his arms folded over his chest, and glared up at his yojimbo. Then his shoulders sank and he nodded. 

“Tomorrow,” he conceded. “I need to see Yuriko-san.” 

Tetsunotaka nodded. “I understand you have just learned that you have a son. That is something of a surprise. Congratulations. The others did not tell me how old he was, but if Yuriko is the mother, he must be very young yet.”

“He is only in his second moon,” Goro agreed. He sighed and ran his hand through his short-cropped hair. “I did not ask Meiko-san his actual birth date.”

“Go pack your travel bag, Goro-san,” Tetsunotaka said. “I will appraise Yuki-san of our plan to leave tomorrow and then pack my own. Then we should drink to your son’s health. Kagami-san is already preparing to ensure that it remains excellent. I would imagine that there are already messenger-birds on their way to Kiri no Machi demanding copies of scrolls on childhood ailments.”

Goro blinked. “I had not thought of that yet,” he said. “Small children are at great risk in their first few years.” He relaxed, the tension leaving him as quickly as it had come. “But Kagami-san will ensure that Totiro-kun thrives.”

“That seems most likely,” Tetsunotaka agreed, stepping aside so that Goro could enter his room. “She seems to take ill health and injury to those under her care as a personal insult and she has a very Crane response towards things that insult her.”

Goro frowned. “And that is?” 

Tetsunotaka smiled. “She obliterates them.”

Goro snorted. “It is a good thing that those things that insult her are ones that she can use her skills against, then. Though I suppose that she has Jiromasu-san for those who might insult her in a courtly context. He gets a great deal of satisfaction out of making any who are bakayarou towards her regret their actions.”

“That he does,” Tetsunotaka agreed. “I will see you downstairs, that we might drink to your son’s health.” He paused, considering the Kuni. “I know only a little of what is expected in the raising of a Crab child. But I believe that you will be a fine father.” He smiled a little as his Kuni friend merely grunted and turned to step through the door to his room. Kagami was quite correct; Crab were ill-equipped to deal with sincere compliments.

***

Kagami knocked on the door to Meiko’s room, feeling oddly nervous and jumpy. Goro and Tetsunotaka had left for Mura no Mura so that Goro might confront Yuriko regarding her not having informed him of her pregnancy. Kagami had never met the woman, but Tetsunotaka had confirmed that she was a competent doshin and a heimin with considerable intelligence and the willingness to take independent action. Kagami was uncertain why the woman had not chosen to tell Goro of his incipient fatherhood, but the Kuni was not taking it well. Certainly, there was stigma regarding an unmarried woman bearing a child, but a heimin carrying a samurai’s child was not exposed to nearly the same kind of prejudice. 

Still, that was Goro’s problem, not hers. Her problem was that she had never had to care for a baby. She was an only child. Jiromasu had been essentially an only child, his only sibling having died before he was born. And there had been no infants at the Isawa school. The extent to which she had interacted with them had been seeing them strapped to their mothers’ backs as she walked through towns and villages.

The door was opened and Meiko looked down at her. The heimin looked startled. “How can I help you, Isawa-sama?”

Kagami uncrossed her arms, which had folded themselves defensively across her chest as she waited for her knock to be answered. “I wished to see the baby,” she said. “As you know, I am shugenja. I am also trained in medicine, but all my experience is with grown men and women. So I wish to see what I will be dealing with if I need to heal him of some unexpected injury or illness.”

“Of course, Isawa-sama. Please come in.” The heimin woman stepped back, letting Kagami slip into the room.

The room that Meiko had been given was one of the rooms in the guest wing, far more well-appointed than a heimin would have generally been accorded. But it was large enough that it easily held both Meiko and the cradle containing Goro’s tiny son. Kagami cautiously approached the carved bassinet and peered in at the sleeping child.

He was so tiny. He snuffled in his sleep, wriggling restlessly.

“He will be waking soon,” Meiko said. “You said you have no experience with infants, Isawa-sama?” She sounded taken aback. 

Kagami shrugged, continuing to watch Totiro. “It has never come up. I have read of the most common ailments and have sent for texts regarding the less common ones, but I am my parents’ only child and was away at school in any case.”

“I see.” Meiko shook herself. “Well, if I am able to answer any questions you might have, I will endeavour to do so. I have not studied medicine myself but had several younger brothers and sisters and…” she paused, then continued, her voice tight, “and I have been looking after Totiro-kun.”

Kagami nodded, watching with interest as Totiro’s face scrunched up for a moment, his cheeks reddening. Then he let out a piercing cry, wailing and flailing his little hands arounds. Kagami jerked backwards at the sudden noise and Meiko hurried to pick him up, cradling him against her chest and rubbing gentle circles on his lower back.

“Why is he crying?” Kagami asked, her hands up to protect her ears from the painfully sharp shrieking. 

“His stomach hurts,” Meiko said. “When they are this little, all they really do is eat, sleep, and cry to let you know that they need to eat or sleep or to have their omutsu changed. Shhhh, Totiro-kun… it’s alright. It will feel better soon.”

Kagami’s hands came down from her ears as she adjusted to the noise and as the baby’s wails quieted a little with the gentle passes of Meiko’s hand. There was a noise not unlike pulling one’s feet from the sticky river-mud and the crying quieted even further.

“There… that feels better, doesn’t it?” Meiko said encouragingly. When Totiro had calmed completely, she moved over to where a number of supplies were neatly arranged and knelt down to place him on the floor, beginning to unfasten his clothing. 

Kagami shifted over to watch as the heimin unwrapped Totiro, revealing skinny little legs and arms and a round belly. Then she undid the child’s omutsu and revealed the mess contained within and Kagami stepped quickly back from the unfortunate odour that rose from the soiled cloth. 

“Yes, this is one of the least pleasant things regarding babies,” Meiko agreed, amusement in her tone as she quickly wiped Totiro clean, bundled up the soiled omutsu, and replaced it with a clean one from a neat stack of spares before beginning to wrestle the tiny limbs back into the outer garment’s sleeves. When she was finished, she smiled down at Totiro. “There. All done.” She reached out to stroke a finger along his cheek and sighed as he turned his head towards her touch, his mouth opening and closing. “And you are hungry again, aren’t you, kobito(little one) ?”

As Meiko adjusted her clothing and brought Totiro to her breast to feed, Kagami settled herself down on a nearby tatami mat. “Do you need anything for his care?” she asked. “I can make salves and tinctures and if he hurts himself I can call on the kami to heal him… and Yuki-san will be able to get you anything he might need like blankets or… or… more omutsu? Or…” she trailed off and gestured a little helplessly. 

“Thank you, Isawa-sama,” Meiko said. “Yuki-sama made it clear that I was to ask for anything that Totiro-kun might need. But some half-strength shiunko ointment would be useful.”

Kagami nodded as the heimin shifted Totiro from one breast to the other. It was a relief to know that there was something she could do to make Goro’s tiny son welcome. She still really wasn’t sure what to think about the entire situation, and the child’s presence was, without question, going to complicate life at Yoriki House, but she had caught Goro’s softened features as he looked down at the child and recognized it as his. She hadn’t realized that Goro had been… been… well, that he had found company with heimin women, but she knew it was not uncommon. They were just heimin, after all. It was not considered to count, though it was expected that a samurai would care for any issue. 

For the briefest of moments, her mind wandered to whether Jiromasu or Tetsunotaka had likewise found such company before she shied away from the thought, only just managing to avoid a physical recoil that might have been noticed by Meiko. If they had, she really, really didn’t want to know. It was bad enough knowing that Goro had… and that Nami sometimes did as well, though it would appear her assignations were usually other samurai. And that, at least until this point, her use of moon tea had been successful. Kagami turned her eyes back to the baby, finished his meal now and drowsing in Meiko’s arms. She bit her lip. At some point, she was going to have to have one of her own, maybe more than one, unless she managed to avoid marriage the way Doji Uki had, which seemed unlikely. The idea should have been exciting. It was the duty of any samurai daughter to continue her family line or to provide her husband’s family with an heir. But the idea filled her with dread and that fact filled her with guilt to go with it.

“Would you like to hold him, Isawa-sama?” Meiko asked. “He is full and clean now and will fall asleep quickly.”

Kagami’s eyes widened in momentary panic, but Meiko was already moving forward, presuming a positive response, and Kagami would not show her fear to this barely-known woman, heimin or not. She swallowed hard and let her deposit Totiro into her arms. Kagami sat stiffly for a moment, worried that any movement might cause her to drop the tiny, fragile creature she was now holding.

Meiko had stepped backwards and was regarding the shugenja with a tiny, confused frown. “Isawa-sama, you said you had not had experience with babies. Have you… have you ever held a baby before?”

Kagami flushed. Clearly her discomfort was far more obvious than she would like. “I have not,” she said, her voice tight with her embarrassment. Her water kami had just showed up in the room and was circling her curiously, which was not helping with her sensation of being critically observed. “There aren’t any babies in the Isawa libraries.”

“I would imagine not, but…” Meiko shut her mouth quickly and gave herself a shake. “You… ah… you are doing fine, Isawa-sama. Try relaxing your shoulders. If you hold yourself so tensely, you will find it harder to hold the child. Your arms will get tired and cramp.”

Kagami forced away her panic and took a breath in and then released it, trying to treat it as if she were relaxing towards a meditative state. As her shoulders dropped, her arm moved a little and the child settled more firmly into the space between her arm and her stomach. Kagami felt herself relax further as Totiro felt less precarious in her arms. She frowned, looking down at him as he snuffled a little in his sleep. The red skin around his eye was on clear display. She would have to ask Goro about that. It didn’t seem to trouble the Kuni, but if it would impact the child as he grew… the skin around the eye looked burned. Shiny scar tissue around the delicate skin of the eyelid. So little to bear the mark of Fu Leng’s hatred. “And will you be as devoted to his defeat as your father?” she asked quietly. It was hard to imagine this tiny scrap of humanity wielding scroll satchel or sword against an oni or standing on the Wall of Goro’s tales. But she could not imagine that her friend would be any less fervent in raising his son to undertake that duty than he was at trying to educate his fellow yoriki in the dangers. “You are very small to have caused so much upheaval.”

“They do have a habit of doing that,” Meiko said, from where she was watching Kagami with tired eyes. “Especially when they are unexpected.”

Kagami nodded and looked at the woman a little more closely. “How is your health?” she asked. If anything were to go wrong with this woman that Totiro relied so wholly on… well, they would probably be able to find some other alternative - there were doubtless other women in Hashi no Mura who could be hired as wet nurses - but it would be much simpler for them all to work with this woman and her familiarity with the infant and her affection for both the baby and its mother. “Do not downplay anything, Meiko-san,” she said as the woman began to open her mouth to reply, her body language indicating discomfort with the samurai’s attention being focused on her. She indicated the baby in her arms with a jerk of her chin. “Your health is needed for his. And Goro-san will not countenance threats to his son’s well-being, I think.”

Meiko swallowed, then looked down. “My own pregnancy was hard,” she said. “And when my child was born, both he and I were in poor health. I managed to recover, but he did not, and some symptoms of my long illness linger still.”

Kagami blinked and nodded, quickly pulling out the calm Crane mask. Of course. For Meiko to have been able to nurse Totiro, she would have had to have had a child herself. And Yuriko’s letter had referenced Meiko’s grief. “I can only ease physical pains,” she said awkwardly. “Were you ever examined by a physician? What still ails you?”

“Yes, there is no solution for grief and guilt but time, is there?” Meiko said, her smile pained. To Kagami’s relief, she stepped forward to take Totiro, moving over to place the infant into the cradle and running a gentle hand over his head before giving the cradle a push to start it rocking. “Exhaustion, of course. Though that is always a difficult one. A small baby ensures disrupted sleep. Shortness of breath.”  She pointed to her abdomen. “Pain here, sometimes.”

“And you still walked here all the way from Mura no Mura?” Kagami frowned.

“I have been doing better.” She looked at Kagami’s skeptical expression and dropped her eyes again. “It might possibly have been better to wait a few more weeks before attempting it. But it was becoming difficult. Our neighbours did not understand. Yuriko-san was taken aback when she first saw Totiro-kun’s eye, but she did not fear it. She knew why he bore it and… and she had quite enjoyed Kuni Goro-sama’s company. She did not fear him and so did not fear his son. But that is not a trust you can explain to others.”

Oh. Oh yes. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it? It had not even occurred to Kagami on seeing little Totiro’s resemblance to his father. She was so used to his appearance now that she often forgot about it. And when they met new people, well, he was a Kuni. They always made others nervous, as she had for many years. As she still did, once people knew what she was. His eye was part of that, not the reason for it. But in a baby born of an unwed heimin woman… 

“Well, his appearance will be understood here. You seem to have accepted it without too much problem.” She got up and moved over to the heimin. “I will examine you, and then we will see what can be done about bolstering your health.”

“I trust Yuriko-san,” Meiko said as she submitted to Kagami’s scrutiny with only a moderate amount of reluctance. “Totiro-kun’s eye was… is… unnerving, but it is not something that she fears and so fear of it would be disloyal.”

“And so you care for him for love of her,” Kagami said as she stepped back, lips pursed as she regarded the woman. “I am going to cast two spells on you. Then I will have Yuki-san organize someone else to watch Totiro-kun while you bathe in water infused with yomogi leaves. We will repeat this every day for the next five days and then we will see how you are doing.” She paused. “Such loyalty to a friend is commendable. To both care for her son and to bring him half-way across the province and commit to staying here until you are no longer needed.” She gave the heimin woman a shallow bow. “I honour your commitment.” She smiled a little at Meiko’s stunned expression, then turned to leave. She needed to find Yuki, to give her instructions regarding the diet Meiko should be receiving to best support her recovery and to organise for Totiro to be cared for while the woman bathed. And then she had another messenger bird to send.

Chapter Text

Goro had made a few brief stops on their way through Hashi no Mura. Captain Yabo had not been in town, having been summoned to support a different section of the province’s yoriki, so Bureaucrat Bobu had arranged for a local boat to take them to Mochigome Mura on the northern edge of the central plain, which would give them the most direct route to Mura no Mura. It had taken Meiko almost two weeks to make her way to Hashi no Mura, but she had had to take a far more circuitous route than the two samurai planned to follow. Goro had been muttering about the dangers of that journey under his breath for the length of the boat ride to Mochigome Mura.

“At least she was intelligent enough to take the safer route,” Tetsunotaka eventually said. Goro had shot him a disgruntled look, but the muttered invectives had quieted. Tetsunotaka could not blame him. The idea of Kagami making such a journey alone, for instance, put Tetsunotaka into a cold sweat. Still, Meiko had made it safely to Hashi no Mura. And now his friend… his charge… had a son.

It was going to be interesting to see what that would look like for them all, going forward. Goro was agitated in a way that Tetsunotaka had not witnessed before, but the treatment remained the same. Decide on a course of action, then progress along it while keeping an eye on whether it was important to slow a little for either health or tactical reasons. As they came up on a small village in the early evening, he watched as Goro clearly considered pushing onwards, to take advantage of the still-leisurely twilight, and then saw the moment when the Kuni recalled their conversation the night before. Good. As they approached the tiny teahouse, which boasted a room that could house travellers, there was a flutter of wings as a sparrow alighted on Goro’s shoulder. Goro stiffened.

“We all remain fine,” Kagami said, and Tetsunotaka watched as Goro’s shoulders dropped. Then they both huffed a laugh as Kagami continued, sounding just slightly impatient. “Jiromasu said I had to tell you that first. I examined Meiko today, to ensure she was healthy and hadn’t taken any harm getting here. She should have waited longer before coming, but she felt they had had no choice because their neighbours feared the eye that Totiro-kun inherited from you. I do not know if this makes any difference for you, it is probably something you had already thought about, but I thought I should tell you, just in case.”

“ Does this make a difference to you, Goro-san?” Tetsunotaka asked, noting the Kuni’s expression as the little bird puffed into nothing. 

“I do not know,” Goro said, an odd mix of his usual terse answers and a surprising vulnerability in having answered at all. 

Tetsunotaka followed the man into the tea house and they got themselves settled in the guest room in silence, then went to take a table in the tea house. As Goro ordered them some food, the Daidoji pulled out a bottle of sake and two cups. He filled them both, one for each of them, then sat back.

Goro eyed the sake in front of his yojimbo and gave a ghost of a smile. “Kanpai!” he said, shooting it back and banging the cup down.

Tetsunotaka followed suit, savouring the warmth of it across his tongue and down his throat. Then he reached forward and refilled both cups. He didn’t plan on drinking more than that - he would sip now that the first cup had been drunk - but Goro could use a few cups of sake to wind down enough to sleep. And Tetsunotaka had no interest in sharing a bed chamber with a restless Kuni. Some of the things he muttered in his sleep were truly disturbing. Not to mention that Tetsunotaka drinking with him would keep Goro drinking with a social mind-set, rather than risking him dropping down into bleak cynicism. But to help with that, it would be good to get him speaking.

“So. We never have spoken on your eye,” Tetsunotaka said, leaving the topic on the table before them. 

Goro looked up at him and scowled, but it was not an expression intended to dissuade. “No, we haven’t.” There was a pause. “It has always been a part of me. I don’t think on it.”

“You said it was hereditary. Is that a story you would willingly share?”

Goro reached up to touch his cheek, just below the patch of reddened skin. “LIfe as a Crab is rather more unforgiving than most others. We are exposed to forces and risks just not faced by the other clans.” He paused before adding, a little grudgingly, “unless they are those very few who come to stand the Wall with us.” 

Tetsunotaka made a noise that could be taken as agreement, if the Kuni chose to take it that way. This was a well-worn complaint and Tetsunotaka was not unsympathetic, but he wanted him to continue.

“My great-grandfather joined an expedition into the Shadowlands. It was a large, strong force and he was one of the leading shugenja within the group.” His eyes went distant as he took a sip of his sake, probably watching events play out in his mind’s eye. “It was an ambitious push, but one that was likely to succeed. Crab agents had reported on the movements of Fu Leng’s creatures and they were perfectly placed for the plan that had been created. So they struck, and they struck hard.

“It was a resounding success. But it came at a cost. Many of the Crab who had marched into the Shadowlands remained there as ashes. And my great-grandfather suffered a grievous injury. His battle party had been sent to take the eastern flank and they had come face to face with a powerful oni with the ability to reshape a man’s body. My great-grandfather was strong in the Earth, but he had been wounded and it caught hold of his face and began to transform him. The tale says that the oni’s favoured transformation to inflict was to change a man’s form to that of a creature that resembled a cross between a goat and a flayed pig.” Goro glanced over and caught Tetsunotaka’s expression. “Yes, I always thought that sounded particularly unpleasant.”

“I was unable to help from picturing it,” Tetsunotaka said dryly, having managed to wrench his mind away from the image.

“Anyways, at that point my great-grandfather poured all his will into a casting of Jade Strike , aiming it up between them. The wash of jade fire enveloped them both. It staggered the oni back, where it was cut down by the bushi as it tried to reorient itself. It also burned out what corruption might have transferred to my great-grandfather from the oni’s touch, but it couldn’t change back what had been altered. So he returned from the Shadowlands with what they called an evil eye.”

“How did the Kuni take that?” Tetsunotaka asked. The Crab were, rightly, always vigilant for any changes that might indicate Taint.

Goro snorted. “There is an entire comic song devoted to the tests the Kuni did to ensure my great-grandfather was free of Fu Leng’s corruption. I will sing it for you some time.” He paused, then gave a wicked smirk. “Probably on a night when Kagami-san has gone to bed early. It’s a true Kuni song and she might faint.”

“But he was free from any contamination.” Tetsunotaka prompted, somewhat curious about the song, but also a little leary, having heard Kuni comic songs before. Well, he had long known that the Kuni excelled at describing horrors. And he had grown somewhat inured to it over the years of living with them. It was only when those Crab eccentricities spilled over into more civilised company that he could not manage to block out the dishonour of considering such things.

“Yes, free from the Taint. So he went home to his wife. Luckily, he was already married. Even being Kuni, having acquired such an eye might have made it difficult for him to have found a bride. And, presumably, celebrated having returned from a successful campaign. And some time later, my grandfather was born.”

“With an eye like his father’s,” Tetsunotaka said.

“With an eye like great-grandfather’s,” Goro agreed. “My great-grandmother screamed loud enough to wake the neighbours when she saw him. So the Kuni tested and tested again, as they had with my great-grandfather, and it was determined that he was a normal child, but for the way his eye looked, just like my great-grandfather was a normal Kuni shugenja, but for his eye. By the time my father was born, they were expecting it and, when I was born, the Kuni took no more than a cursory look at me before declaring there to be no danger.”

“And it gives you no pain and does not impede you in any way?” Tetsunotaka asked. He had seen wounds that had caused scarring like that around Goro’s eye and they had almost always generated some form of lingering pain for those that bore them.

“No pain. Maybe even a little better vision than most, though I might just have good eyesight. But it did mark me as different. Which is often hard, especially when it is something that started with the tainted touch of one of Fu Leng’s creatures. With the Crab, it was understood, if untrusted. But in the middle of Crane lands? She should have come to me. Should have come to me well before there was an issue.”

“I am glad to hear there is no pain,” Tetsunotaka said. “Both for you and also for Totiro-kun. A man may be stoic in the face of pain. A baby has no such defense against the world’s harshness.”

“I am glad too,” Goro said. His eyes slid distant again and Tetsunotaka could guess that the man was probably picturing his son’s face, the tiny eyes closed, the red eye with its golden, goat-slitted iris hidden behind the closed lids. 

Their food arrived then and the two of them settled in to eat. The food was basic, but it was harvest time and it was fresh and flavourful and their host had looked at Tetsunotaka’s size and had ensured that there were sufficient quantities presented to the two samurai to sate their hunger. When they sat back from the table, Tetsunotaka topped up Goro’s sake cup and looked at his friend.

“So. Probably two days to get to Mura no Mura. What is your intention then?”

Goro ran a hand through his hair. “Find out why.” He shrugged. “A good plan needs sufficient intelligence so you know what you are facing. Otherwise, the outcome is generally defeat.”

Tetsunotaka nodded. There was an undercurrent of frustration and anger to all Goro’s choices regarding this journey and Yuriko’s actions were such that she would be lucky if she were given the chance to justify them. But Tetsunotaka thought there was also a sense of betrayal in the Kuni’s anger. Of disappointment that someone who had proved to have the ability to think ahead, to take decisive action to further Goro’s goals, and whom the Kuni had genuinely liked and felt a connection with, would deliberately conceal information that was of such importance to him. Goro’s memory of Yuriko had been purely positive, as far as Tetsunotaka had been aware, and now it was tainted. He could understand the man’s frustration. He topped up Goro’s cup and poured a small measure into his own now-empty one. “Drink up, Goro-san,” he said. “Then we will find our beds so that we will be up early and ready to head out.”

“The sooner to find answers,” Goro agreed, raising his cup to his yojimbo. “Kanpai!”

***

Goro was in a towering temper by the time they reached Mura no Mura and he was both aware of the fact and unable to do anything about it. He knew that Tetsunotaka was watching him carefully and this mark of concern from his yojimbo both reassured him and was also one more irritant to feed his frustrations. It was drawing towards evening and Goro stomped through the darkened streets of Mura no Mura towards the doshin house, heimin scattering before the scowling Kuni and his giant, silent shadow. 

He was quickly shown to the captain on duty at the doshin house, the doshin lackey clearly more than relieved to disappear from Goro’s presence. Goro snorted. Imperial heimin were so panicky. No Crab heimin would be so easily spooked simply by a Crab samurai in a mood. He crossed his arms and glowered at the captain who, to his credit, managed to maintain a fairly neutral expression as he rose and bowed to his superior. “Kuni Goro-sama,” he said, “Daidoji-sama. How may I serve you?”

“Where is Yuriko-san?” Goro demanded. 

The man swallowed. “Ah. I do not know, Kuni-sama. Her shift ended at sixth hour. I presume she will be at her home.”

“And where is that?”

“I can send someone to fetch her if you would like,” the man offered.

“No, I will go find her.” There was no way he was going to wait while someone went to find her. “Tell me where she lives.”

“As you wish, Kuni-sama,” the man said and gave him directions on how to find Yuriko’s home. “Is there anything else that I can do to aid you?”

Goro considered him briefly. “She will not be returning. You will need to find a new doshin.” He briefly saw the man’s suddenly widened eyes as the Kuni spun around to stalk from the doshin office and barely resisted snarling at the lesser-ranked doshin quickly jumping from his path as he exited the office and stalked through the streets.

“Goro-san?” Tetsunotaka asked after they had acquired a little distance from the doshin house.

Goro felt his teeth clench as he fought down the urge to snap at his yojimbo. “I am not going to kill her.” Probably. He was probably not going to kill her. There were answers she could give to his questions that might provoke it, but as confused and angered by her actions as he was, as generally pessimistic regarding events as he was, the chance of the worst of his fears proving to be true was low.

“I did not think that likely,” his yojimbo said, his stolid calm its perpetual combination of balm and goad. The big man said nothing more, and Goro stalked along the streets with the unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air, pointedly ignoring them. If the Daidoji would not formulate them, then Goro was not going to try and figure out what answer the man was looking for.

They arrived at Yuriko’s home. A generous term for the small, one-room hut that was squeezed between two larger buildings. It was in decent repair, at least, but the shutters over the one window were cracked - recent damage - and a peasant’s ward against evil had been scrawled across the door.

And she had thought to raise his son here, alone! He stalked up to the door and raised his fist to hammer on the door.

“Gently, Goro-san,” Tetsunotaka said from behind him.

Goro froze for one long moment as he tried to parse why his yojimbo had felt it necessary to warn him. Right. She was a target for her neighbours right now. A hammering on her door at night might cause her to panic. He gave himself a shake, trying to lower his hackles, then rapped on the doorframe, abrupt, staccato, but not obviously angry.

There was a pause, then the sound of movement inside, and then the door opened to show a sleep-mussed but sharp eyed Yuriko, perhaps a little thinner and definitely more drawn than his memory of her. She peered up at him in the nighttime gloom and then her eyes widened as she recognized him. Her eyes moved to Tetsunotaka’s bulk where he loomed behind Goro and she winced. “Kuni Goro-sama,” she said formally. She bowed. “How can I serve you?”

“You can serve me by telling me why you did not tell me,” Goro snarled, her subservient demeanour grating over his nerves.

She forgot herself and stared at him. “I did tell you,” she snapped back. “I sent you both your son and a letter.” Then she winced. “Forgive me, Kuni-sama. I did not mean to contradict you.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “They arrived, did they not? Totiro-kun and Meiko-san are alright?”

“They are fine,” Goro said, dismissing that concern with a wave of his hand. Her own unsteady emotions were enough to make him feel a little better and his next words were still clipped but were not as furious. “Why did you not tell me earlier, before it was a matter that it was impossible to conceal?”

“Because I was not sure if he was yours,” she said stiffly, her chin rising. “It was clearly not your intention nor mine that this was the outcome of our time together. I would not importune you for a child that might not have been yours.”

Goro stared at her, almost resentful that her reason was one that he had to ascribe at least some level of logic to. “And when he was born?”

“When he was born, I realised that there was no question who his father was,” she acknowledged. “And I knew he must be made known to you. But first I was recovering. And then… well, and then it became complicated. But I sent him to you.”

“You did. And he came with a nurse, but he came without his mother.”

Yuriko stared at him. “What use would I have been?” she asked. “I was not able to feed him. If he is to be raised as samurai, why would you need me there when I am of no use to you?”

“Perhaps you should continue the conversation inside?” Tetsunotaka suggested. Goro glanced around to see that a few sets of shutters had surreptitiously cracked open, pale faces at the gaps reflecting the rising moonlight. His eyes narrowed and he turned to glare at the nearest eavesdropper. There was an audible gasp as they saw his face and the window pulled closed.

“Those who would meddle in the affairs of samurai will find themselves wishing for death,” he snarled loudly. Several more shutters quickly closed. He turned back to Yuriko and raised an eyebrow. She sighed and stepped backwards, opening the door wider to allow him to enter.

“I will stay outside and stand guard,” Tetsunotaka said as Goro ducked a little to enter under the hut’s low lintel. 

Goro appreciated the privacy, even as he noted that if Yuriko had intended to do him harm, she might have had a chance before Tetsunotaka could have reacted. He watched as she returned the cudgel she had been holding, previously hidden from view by the partially opened door, to the side of her unrolled sleeping pad. There was a second sleeping pad still bound by its ties off to one side. What had been Meiko’s bed, he presumed. She walked over to the tiny brazier and fed a few sticks into the embers that still lingered, then put a taper to the flames and lit a lamp, turning the gloomy chamber into one filled with a warm light. It was a very simple home, but it was tidy and clean. 

“You had intended to raise him, before you knew.”

“Yes. Who else was there? And it was not a terrible thought. It was a little difficult with my neighbours when they realised I was with child, but they adjusted. And I would have had Meiko to help.”

“Do you wish he could have stayed?”

She gave him a look. “There is no point dwelling on what cannot be. I am pleased that he will have the chance to take his proper place. And that is all I need to think on.”

Goro looked around the modest hut’s single room. There was very little that could not be easily replaced. Everything of any value could easily fit into a small cart.

“You can have tomorrow to pack,” he said. “We will leave for Hashi no Mura the day afterwards.”

“What?”

“You are being reassigned. You will begin your new position as doshin in Hashi no Mura at the end of next week.”

She looked at him in blank astonishment and he considered her with narrowed eyes, waiting to see if she would object. Finally, she gave herself a little shake and noted his expression. Her eyes dropped. “Very well, Kuni Goro-sama.”

Goro scowled. It was the best route forward, and she had acceded to it. Yet there was a sense of incompleteness. Something was not quite properly aligned and it was going to nag at him until he figured out what it was. But Yuriko was looking wan and tired. “You are still not fully recovered, are you?” he asked.

“I am fine, Kuni Goro-sama,” she said. She straightened a little, squaring her shoulders. “Just a little tired.”

Goro continued to observe her narrowly. She was either lying to him or to herself. He shook his head and reached out, the words of a bolstering spell light on his tongue. Her look of startled alarm as he began to cast eased quickly, and when the chant finished and she felt the strength of the Earth rise up within her, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing even further.

“Thank you, Goro-sama,” she said.

Goro nodded. “I will leave you to go back to sleep,” he said.

She bowed to him as he turned and headed for the door. He glanced at her as he pulled the door closed behind him. She was still standing there beside the lamp she had lit, her expression unreadable.

“We will need to find a small cart tomorrow,” he told Tetsunotaka as he stepped away from the hut. “She does not have much she will need to bring.”

His yojimbo merely nodded, following him along the streets of Mura no Mura towards The Nightingale’s Song.

Chapter Text

Tetsunotaka pulled the cart up to the dock and let the heimin sailors take over the job of getting it onto the boat. Goro was right and Yuriko had not had much in the way of possessions. The small handcart that they had found had been more than adequate to contain those things she had chosen to bring with her. It had been a quiet walk back to Mochigome Mura. There had been an undercurrent of discomfort that had ensured Tetsunotaka’s silence, certain as he was that whatever he said would either be the wrong thing or construed as such. 

It was strange to have Goro still so unsettled. The Kuni was not filled with the same frustration that had driven him to Mura no Mura, but he had also clearly not resolved the situation to his satisfaction. Tetsunotaka was unsure what the problem was. Yuriko had had an honourable reason for not having informed Goro of her situation. He had carried his point regarding her coming to Hashi no Mura, thus removing her from possible retaliation from her neighbours for having given birth to a child marked by Fu Leng. And they were not even having to wait while everything was organised. They were already most of the way home.

Yet the silence was not the usual peace in which they travelled together. Perhaps it was just that Yuriko was present as well, and she, too, had said little since they had left. They had helped her load her things into the cart and then Goro had taken up the cart’s handles and begun to pull it down the street, and she had fallen in behind the cart, silent and pale. One of her neighbours had waved to her and she had given them a small smile, but the others had just watched her go, faces showing very little, and they had scattered when the Kuni had glowered at them.

Their evenings at the various stops they had made on the way back up to Mochigome Mura had been likewise almost silent. Goro and Tetsunotaka had swapped off on pulling the cart - which was to say that Tetsunotaka had managed to place himself between its handles before Goro could once again take up the task after their first rest-stop and Goro had subsequently submitted to changing which of them was responsible for it after each rest - and the extra burden had had them a little more tired than usual, but not enough to have caused the long silences. Neither of them had allowed Yuriko to take a turn, and the heimin had not been impressed, but had subsided when Goro had bluntly told her that they would make much better time with things as they were. He hadn’t been wrong. Goro’s strength and endurance were bolstered by the kami beyond what his frame might suggest - and he was by no means a delicate research shugenja or a soft courtier - and Tetsunotaka found the cart to have only the slightest impact on his usual speed of travel. There was no way that even a hardy heimin like Yuriko could compare, even in optimal health. And she was not. He was not sure what was ailing her, but she was not well.

Perhaps that was what was bothing Goro so much. The Yuriko they were dealing with was not the decisive, competent woman who had helped them hunt down Reiko. That woman had initially been nervous, uncertain what to expect from the samurai confronting her, but had settled quickly into ease. That comfortable acceptance on both sides was gone and instead awkward silence and a heimin behaving with careful subservience had replaced the camaraderie.

But it was not Tetsunotaka’s place to insert himself into the way that Goro was choosing to handle this. This was between him and Yuriko, and so the Daidoji simply watched. Which was, he acknowledged, contributing to the fraught silence.

The cart was brought aboard the boat and carefully secured in place and they cast off and began the slow journey upstream towards Hashi no Mura. There was the usual bustle from the crew as they got the ship underway, and then it settled down to the peaceful creak of the oars and the soft splash of the water against the hull. Tetsunotaka sat down with his back against the gunwale, Yuriko and Goro within sight, but resting his eyes on the prow of the boat. It was missing a small form with shining white hair enjoying the sensation of moving across the water. He had never met anyone as enamoured with water travel as Kagami was, and it was a preference that had been steadily growing more and more pronounced. He was inclined to think that her kami, the one that had left its place and chosen to follow her around, was part of that strong connection. Her continued interactions with the Naga, a water-aligned species if there ever was one, might also have something to do with it. He would worry about it, but Goro had shown no signs of concern. Still, perhaps when this was over, he would bring it up and ensure that Goro had noticed. When something occurred gradually, it was sometimes hard to see the change. And Goro could be relied upon to not immediately dismiss such a concern.

There was a slight movement from Yuriko, her chest rising and falling with a little more force, and then she spoke. “Kuni Goro-sama,” she said, her voice carefully even, “where are Totiro-kun and Meiko-san?”

“They are at Yoriki House,” Goro said.

“And that is in Hashi no Mura?”

Oh. Tetsunotaka suddenly felt that he might understand some of Yuriko’s silence. She knew nothing about where she was heading.

“Just outside the town. A half hour’s walk or so.”

“And I am to be assigned as doshin to Hashi no Mura.”

“Hai. The captain has been complaining about a lack of men. Hashi no Mura is growing.”

“And… and what is your plan for Totiro-kun and Meiko-san?”

Goro stared at her. “I suppose that depends,” he said slowly. He frowned. “Do you not want Totiro-kun to live with you?”

“I…” Yuriko bit her lip. “Yes, but… Goro-sama, I don’t even know where I will be living. Would it even be appropriate for him to do so? He is samurai and I am heimin. I could not even feed my child. What use am I to him?”

Goro looked affronted. “You have a house waiting for you in Hashi no Mura,” he said. “It isn’t large, but it has a small garden. Definitely better than what you had in Mura no Mura. I had intended for Meiko-san to bring Totiro-kun there as well. I am frequently away, and while Yuki-san is a very good housekeeper and Meiko-san is no doubt a fine nurse, you had intended to raise him, had wanted to raise him, and a child needs its mother.”

There was a long pause as Yuriko considered his words. Tetsunotaka found himself holding his breath.

“You do not wish for him to stay with you in Yoriki House?” she asked.

“It would be more convenient and comfortable for you to be closer to the doshin station,” Goro said. “And I intend to be a frequent visitor to see him. Perhaps when he is older he might spend more time at Yoriki House, when it comes time to start his training. But he is Crab. The lessons in his duty can be easily begun by a mother who is a doshin. He is not a Crane, to need to begin lessons in etiquette before he can feed himself.”

“It is not quite that bad, Goro-san,” Tetsunotaka murmured, vaguely amused. He said it more to give Yuriko time to think and process than through any desire to insert himself into the conversation.

Goro turned on him, scowling. “You have heard Jiromasu-san and Kagami-san’s stories of their childhoods. They talk of learning rules of behaviour from their earliest memories and they are rules that needed a foundation. A foundation that clearly began before their earliest memories.”

Tetsunotaka felt his lips tug up into a tiny smile. “Their mothers were Doji,” he said. “Not all the Crane families begin so young.”

Goro gave a skeptical snort and turned back to Yuriko. “Meiko-san and the child currently have a room at Yoriki House,” he said, suddenly awkward, though you would have had to know him for years to have noticed. “If you prefer, you could stay there.”

Yuriko regarded him for a moment, then gave the ghost of a smile. “Perhaps I might wait to make the decision until after I have seen the house,” she said.

Goro shifted to lean back against the gunwale. He nodded at the heimin. “Sensible,” he acknowledged.

Yuriko’s smile became a little stronger and she, too, turned to lean against the side of the boat, watching the foliage on the banks pass by. They settled into silence again but, to Tetsunotaka’s relief, it was a silence that had lost a great deal of its tension. 

When they had turned up the outflow river, the tension began to rise again. Probably simply nerves from nearing the end of the journey and both parents nervous about seeing the child again, Tetsunotaka thought. He pulled himself to his feet and pointed out a few landmarks as they passed by Hashi no Mura, telling her a little about the town and how it was currently in the process of changing. It helped to distract her, and Goro chimed in as well. Then they were pulling up to the docks and Yoriki House’s servants were coming down to help with the luggage and Jiormasu was strolling down to greet them. No Kagami, though, and Tetsunotaka stamped down on the swell of disappointment that this lack generated in him.

“Jiromasu-san,” Goro said, jumping over the side of the boat and landing with a thump on the wooden boards of the dock. “We have returned. This is Yuriko-san, Totiro-kun’s mother.”

“Welcome, Yuriko-san,” Jiromasu said, inclining his head to the heimin woman in acknowledgement. “You have given Goro-san a lusty son with excellent lungs.” 

“He has been crying a great deal?” Yuriko said, her expression suddenly concerned.

“Only when he is hungry or uncomfortable,” Jiromasu said, noting the concern. “Yuki-san assures me it is no more than any other baby. I would imagine you would like to go to see him. He and Meiko are both in the common room with Kagami-san. She was checking to make sure that they both continue to thrive.”

“Please.”

Jiromasu turned to lead the way into the house and they followed him up to the building and along the corridor to the east common room. They entered it to find Kagami alone in the room, holding the blanket-wrapped bundle of Totiro-kun and looking down at his little sleeping face with an expression that was somewhere between consternation and awe. Tetsunotaka felt something in his chest clench at the sight. She looked up as the door opened and her expression brightened into delight as she saw them all coming in. 

“Goro-san! Tetsunotaka-san! You are back. And you brought Yuriko-san.” She looked critically at the other woman for a moment. Then her expression turned hopeful. “Meiko-san had to go do something. Do you want him?” She raised her arms a little, offering the sleeping child to the heimin.

Yuriko hesitated for just a second before stepping forward to scoop Totiro into her arms. She held the child tight against her, curling forward to peer down into his sleeping face. Tetsunotaka could not see her face, but he heard her sniff and was sure that at the very least her eyes had filled with tears. Kagami rose and walked over to Goro.

Totiro-kun and Meiko-san are doing well,” she said quietly. “Though I think that Yuriko could also do with the treatments that I have been giving Meiko-san to help her regain her strength. I will go let Yuki know what is needed.” She paused. “She will be staying here?”

“For a few days at least,” Goro said.

Kagami nodded, then turned to go. She rested a hand on Tetsunotaka’s arm and smiled up at him as she passed. “Welcome home, Tetsunotaka-san,” she said.

He smiled down at her, then turned a little to watch her as she left, still feeling the slight weight of her hand on his sleeve. He turned to see Jiromasu watching him and he could feel a faint warmth on his face as he unsuccessfully fought down the embarrassment at having had his feelings so clearly seen and read. He knew that all of the northern yoriki were now well aware of how he felt, the knowledge inescapable after all they had gone through together, but he was still not certain how Jiromasu felt about it. He knew that the man did not hold any concerns regarding Tetsunotaka’s behaviour towards his cousin - Tetsunotaka would commit seppuku long before doing anything that would risk Kagami’s honour - but that did not mean that Tetsunotaka’s affections were unproblematic. But it was also not likely to be a topic that the two of them would ever discuss openly, and so they both did their best to pretend that the complicated little Ishiken was not complicated in regards to a Daidoji’s heart.

“Meiko-san will be returning soon?” Tetsunotaka asked his friend.

“I would imagine so,” Jiromasu said. He turned from observing the Daidoji and focused on the Kuni, who was slowly approaching the heimin woman who was cradling their son.

“Perhaps we should leave them to have a private conversation, the three of them,” Tetsunotaka said. “It has been a long few months for them all and I will be more comfortable letting them sort things out without having to be witness to it.”

“Not worried about either of them sticking a knife into Goro-san?” Jiromasu asked wryly. Tetsunotaka glanced at him. The Kakita was joking, except for the very slight hint of steel along the edges of the question.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I think all three want a good life for the child. And I think all three know that working together is the best way to accomplish that.”

Jiromasu nodded. “I am inclined to agree. And we will find out afterwards what they have agreed to. You are correct, I do not want to be here to listen to the negotiations.”

Tetsunotaka smiled as they walked down the hallway together. “Goro-san has formed a good plan. Now that he has remembered that at least some form of negotiation should take place, even if the women are simply heimin, I would imagine that they will be quite happy with it.” He shook his head. “It would have been their duty to do as he had ordered, and his duty to provide the opportunity, but raising a child with resentment at the circumstances is not healthy.”

“We are all of us bound by our station,” Jiromasu said, smiling a little. “Just… different rules. Heimin do not lack a wish for self-determination, just because they are heimin. They are men, much as samurai are. Even the illusion of choice can be enough to settle a discontented spirit. Hopefully Goro-san manages to be persuasive.”

“Goro-san is always pragmatic,” Tetsunotaka said. “Often curt. Inclined to assume you have followed his logic. And impatient when you have not. But his ideas tend to appeal to heimin once they have understood them. I believe he will prevail.”

“Well, I look forward to finding out what comes next for us all, as it relates to Totiro-kun.”

***

Goro had stood watching as Yuriko reacquainted herself with their son. It was touching, and Yuriko managed to maintain her composure, though her eyes glistened with a sheen of tears that did not fall. It helped confirm for him that he had made the right choice to bring the woman here. Then Meiko had come into the room and Goro had found his son pushed into his arms as Yuriko turned to embrace Meiko tightly. Meiko clung back just as hard and Goro considered them curiously.

“You made it all right,” Yuriko said, finally stepping back from the other woman. “I am so glad. I was worried.”

“I did, and have been treated very well indeed.” Meiko turned to bow to Goro. “Welcome back, Kuni Goro-sama. I see you have brought Totiro-kun’s mother with you.”

“I have.” Goro looked at her and raised the eyebrow over his goat-slit eye. “And I have a plan, if it works for you both.”

Meiko glanced from Yuriko to Goro and back. “I am, of course, honoured to hear your plan.”

Goro reiterated it, being a little more explicit regarding the house. They had been living in a small one-room hut. The house Bobu had found him was considerably larger. It had a small central common area, with a kitchen/work room and two additional rooms connecting to it. It fronted onto one of the quieter streets on the western side of Hashi no Mura and a small, walled garden extended off the back, giving them an outdoor space with safety and privacy. There was going to be no question that Totiro-kun was his child; safety thus became a concern. A mother who was good with her sword was very much an asset.

After he had finished describing it, Yuriko looked at him, bit her lip, and squared her shoulders. “Kuni Goro-sama,” she said, hesitantly. “I cannot imagine I can afford that on what a doshin makes.”

Goro blinked at her, then shook his head, scowling. “I am providing it. You will be raising my son. His needs will be more than what a doshin’s pay would permit. You will tell me if he needs for anything. Or if you need for anything.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. I see that his needs must come first.” She hesitated. “And will you want me to provide you with further children?”

Goro felt a wash of confusion at the question at the same time as an unexpected rush of heat went to his groin at the thought. Why would she have… oh. He looked at her, a slight frown furrowing his brow.

“I am not looking for a concubine, Yuriko-san,” he said. “I very much enjoyed our evening together. And if, in the future, you were inclined to revisit it, I would happily do so. But there is no expectation that this is the role you are taking on.” He paused. “If it helps you to have others think so, I will not refute it. And I will be visiting you often, so it will be easy for others to make the assumption. Totiro-san was unplanned. I do not have plans for him to acquire a sibling.” He paused and gave her a tiny grin. “Of course, if you are inclined to revisit our time together in the future, and the moon tea once again does not work, then we might have to reassess where we stand, if only because so many of those I work with are Crane. They have much stricter notions of what is appropriate than the Crab do.”

Yuriko nodded. “Then I think we can make this work, Goro-sama.” She paused, thoughtful. “It probably will be easiest if those in town believe me to be your concubine. The stigma is much less, for samurai can look where they please, and that will help both Meiko-san and Totiro-kun as well. But as you say, it will be easy for them to make the assumption.” Then she gave him a wicked little grin. “And I enjoyed our time together as well,” she admitted. “I do not think I am ready yet to take you up on your offer. But perhaps in time.”

“Yuriko!” Meiko gasped.

A look of guilt flashed over Yuriko’s face and she gave a penitent little laugh, pulling Meiko into an embrace. “I’m sorry, Meiko-san.” She lowered her voice to where she no doubt thought Goro could not hear, but it was not quite quiet enough. “It is not always like it was for you. For many, it is a very pleasant experience.”

Goro made a note to ask Yuriko later whether they needed to concern themselves with the man who had gotten Meiko with child. Whoever he was, he had clearly not properly looked after her. Dishonourable swine.

Totiro stirred in his arms, yawning widely and then blinking sleepy eyes up at him. One hand wriggled free of its blankets and the tiny Kuni shoved his fist into his mouth, gnawing it with considerable determination. “Hello Totiro-kun,” Goro said. “I brought your mother back for you.”

As Totiro began to fuss, Goro relinquished him to Meiko with relief. He was ill-equipped to deal with infants. They were small and fragile and he would be much more comfortable when the boy was a little older. He looked over at where Yuriko had sat down beside Meiko to watch the woman feed the child and - deciding that discretion was the better part of valour - left the two women alone.

***

The weather had turned cold and Kagami slipped her hand up into the crook of Tetsunotaka’s elbow, letting the heat the big man generated warm her chilled fingers. She had gone with Goro to go check on Totiro-kun and his nurse and his mother and they were on their way back to Yoriki House. Yuriko had been out - on shift with the doshin - but Totiro had been his usual healthy self. He had objected to being undressed so that Kagami could give him a thorough examination, but had returned to his usual smiling burbles once she had let Meiko dress him again.

She had left the baby with his father and taken Meiko into another room in order to give her a thorough examination as well and had come away pleased. She was much recovered and if she continued to follow Kagami’s instructions would be completely well by spring. When Yuriko had come home, just before they were going to leave, Kagami was able to check her over as well, with an equally positive conclusion. 

This was good, because they were scheduled to leave for Kiri no Machi and the entertainments of Winter Court the next day, and Kagami was not happy about the distance that would be between them and Totiro if anything went wrong. Meiko and Yuriko were both under strict orders to have Bobu send her a message if anything were to go awry, and Yuki had promised to check on them every other day. He was a samurai child - the kami were already helping support his health and wellbeing - but even with such advantages, the first three years of life were the most deadly.

Yuriko had been not only greatly physically recovered, Kagami was reasonably sure she was seeing something more of the woman’s true personality as well. She was dutiful and respectful towards Kagami, but she could see how her being doshin led to a practical, realistic world-view and an earthy sense of humour that would have appealed to Goro. She knew they had shared a bed at least once - in a rather more carnal manner than she had shared her bed with Nami - but she was uncertain whether they were still doing so and did not care to ask. They might answer her if she did! If they were still engaging in such activities, they had not shown any overt signs of it.

“Captain Tsui has good things to say about Yuriko’s inclusion into the force,” Tetsunotaka said, pulling his elbow into his side so that Kagami’s hand was tucked against his warmth. Once the two shugenja had been delivered to the little house, he had gone off into the town to run some errands. One of those, clearly, had been stopping by to take the doshin captain’s report. 

“Unsurprising,” Goro said.

“I’m going to miss them, while we are down at Winter Court,” Kagami admitted. She had been getting used to holding the rapidly growing Totiro-kun and he had begun to smile now, an engaging expression that caused his eyes to crinkle, his mismatched irises sparking. This was the first time that she had ever seen a baby grow up and it was proving fascinating. Given how fast he was growing, he was going to be much changed by the time they returned. Perhaps having one of her own one day wouldn’t be quite so terrifying. She still didn’t want it any time soon, however. She was very happy to just observe Goro’s son for now. Goro simply grunted in response to her admission, but Kagami was sure he would be missing them as well. He did not visit them every day, but it was rare that two days in a row would go by without him deciding to walk into town to check on them. And on the first day that Totiro had properly smiled up at his father, she had caught him smiling back.

She would not have thought that Kuni Goro would be the first of them to have a child. Honestly, she had not been able to picture any of them with spouses and children - well, maybe Jiromasu, but that always came with a queasy knot in the pit of her stomach so she tried not to dwell on it. But the fact that Goro had a son, and that he was a devoted father, slotted far more neatly into their lives than she would ever have expected. She sighed happily as the first snowflakes of the year began to drift down out of the grey clouds. Captain Yabo had arrived last night and the day had been spent with heimin rushing back and forth to load his ship in order for their departure tomorrow. She had gone to check on Totiro-kun at least partially to get them all out from underfoot, as Yuki and Yabo had both been rather snappish. Now it was evening and the first snow was falling, and tomorrow would see them off to participate in any number of entertainments and plays and there would be music and good food, and Jiromasu dancing his way through politics. 

And then, after all of that was done, they would come back here. To the place that was becoming more and more their home with each passing month. Home to comfort. To safety. And now to children as well.