Archive of Our Own

The moon moved towards the horizon, disappearing behind skyscrapers. The cold breeze blew Akane’s hair from her face. She smiled and opened her arms up to the cold night breeze as she left the television station. Hikaru and Karashi followed. It was Akane’s first Shougatsu since returning from France and the three of them were invited to a special New Year’s Eve program that showcased up and coming performers of traditional arts. Viewers nominated and voted on the people that they wanted to see while eating soba at home. Akane, Hikaru, and Karashi represented rakugo this year. They performed at different parts of the night and stayed for food with the other performers. Now, the three of them would grab a drink or three and be on their way home.

Groups of people crowded the streets around them, most on their way to and from the shrines for hatsumode. Akane promised Risa that they would do hatsumode together after they recuperated from staying up all night.

“I know a good place with good alcohol,” Hikaru said after they passed by several places that seemed way too crowded for a few drinks. “The bartender is cute too.”

“The bartender doesn’t have to be cute you know,” Karashi said.

“Spoken like a guy with a girlfriend,” Hikaru said.

Karashi decided not to acknowledge that. He looked at his phone and returned a text quickly before putting it away.

“Maybe we can see the sunrise before we get on the trains,” Akane said. “The timing should work out. There’s a park near the bay over there.”

Hikaru and Karashi agreed. Soon they arrived at a hole in the wall with a sign proclaiming it “Hinao’s Café.” A bell rang when Hikaru opened the door and a woman with partially dyed hair greeted them with a warm, “Welcome!” and a definitively cute smile.

Three teenagers sat at the counter. They glanced over their shoulders at Akane’s group. The girl immediately recognized them. The blonde boy seemed to recognize them but question it. The dark haired boy put his chopsticks town with barely enough time before Akane wrangled him into a tight but brief hug and greeted him enthusiastically, “Chihiro! It’s been so long!”

“Hey, Aka-nee,” Chihiro said and returned the hug in kind. “It’s been busy.”

Hakuri and Iori tensed but then relaxed when Chihiro spoke. Hinao’s smile grew into a wide grin. Before anyone could say anything more, two sets of hands grabbed Akane and yanked her away from the counter.

“Excuse us a second,” Hikaru said as she and Karashi pulled Akane into a huddle close to the door.

“What the heck?!” Akane asked. She wanted to point out that it was just Chihiro, but that probably did not mean anything to Hikaru or Karashi. It was not like she went around talking about him.

“That’s our question,” Hikaru whispered immediately. “What are you doing?”

“Greeting a friend…?” Akane whispered back. “What else would I be doing?”

“You’re friends with the guy who murdered a bunch of people at a kabuki show?” Karashi whispered in almost a deadpan before his voice returned to its normal cadence. “Didn’t you see the video going around a month or two ago? It wasn’t an AI stunt. People actually died. The guy in the video had the same scar on his face.”

“I’ve been too busy to watch the news,” Akane said. It was not a total lie. She only saw the video because Risa showed it to her. Akane knew it was Chihiro immediately even though the scar was new to her, but she did not tell Risa that she knew him.

“Maybe we should find somewhere else –” Hikaru began.

“If he killed a bunch of people, why would he be here eating soba?” Akane whispered. “Wouldn’t the café owner have called the police? She probably watches the news.”

There was a long silence. Hikaru and Karashi kept hold of Akane in the huddle. Akane felt like a rakugo character trapped into a modern classic. She hoped it was a comedy.

“How did you even meet him?” Karashi whispered.

“We met at a fireworks festival when I started learning rakugo,” Akane said. “Chihiro and I run into each other about once or twice a year. I don’t think he’d kill people without a good reason.”

“So you think he would kill people with a good reason?” Hikaru whispered.

Akane did not immediately answer. She did not want to leave the café. “We’ll be fine,” she said with complete confidence. “Look at his friends. They’re clearly normal high schoolers. Murders don’t hang out with normal high schoolers, right?”

Hikaru and Karashi glanced at Hakuri and Iori. Hikaru’s eyes narrowed and Karashi sighed. They agreed to get drinks here and the three of them returned to the bar.

~

Twelve years ago, when Akane was ten, her father was a rakugoka. Akane spied on him as Tohru practiced his craft diligently every day. He always seemed to enjoy performing and putting his energy into his art seemed to help him recover from the war. Then, one day, at an Arakawa school performance, the head of the school expelled all of the students including Tohru for lackluster performances. Tohru accepted the judgement, gave up his stage name of Arakawa Shinta, and stopped studying rakugo. He got a job abroad and found other hobbies.

The incident, however, lit a fire in Akane. She refused to accept that her father failed. This was a misjudgment and she would prove it! She immediately sought out her father’s rakugo teacher and demanded lessons. Shiguma reluctantly agreed and soon took Akane on various outings so that she could gather experiences to draw on one day when she would become a zenza and start on the path towards becoming a shin’uchi of the Arakawa school.

A few months into Akane’s quest, it was August and time for a nearby fireworks festival. Cicadae hummed in the trees, steadily growing in numbers after falling silent in the years immediately following the war. It sounded like the cicadae were just as excited as Akane for the fireworks festival. She bought a tanuki mask and let it rest against the side of her head. She tried to catch fish but the paper scoopers broke. She successfully won a stuffed Wobbuffet toy at the ring toss. Shiguma bought her skewers of dango from a stall as a treat.

A man about as old as Akane’s father started talking to Shiguma. Shiguma started chatting with Azami warmly. It sounded like a war conversation. Akane could only remember the last two years of it. She spent so much time in the shelter while the sirens wailed that she swore that her family lived in the shelter back then, but her parents insisted that they actually lived in an apartment near it instead. She could remember her father, Shiguma, and other people taking refuge in the shelter to treat wounds before leaving again to confront the enemy. Akane tried not to think about those memories too much. She tended to zone out when the topic came up at school too.

Akane spotted a small boy with a black cat mask on his face sitting on a bench. He kicked his feet slowly while playing with a food wrapper as if accustomed to entertaining himself. Akane walked over, held out a skewer with one dango left on it, and said, “I’m Akane! Do you want one of my dango?”

“No,” Chihiro said. He put the folded wrapper into an interior pocket of his

Akane sat down beside him and ate the rest of her dango. “Are you having fun?” she asked and scuffed her sandals against the ground.

“Yeah,” Chihiro said.

“Me too,” Akane said as she watched the people pass by them. “I’m learning a lot.”

“About what?” Chihiro asked as he stopped kicking his legs.

“Rakugo,” Akane said. “Shiguma-sensei is my teacher. Someday I’ll be a zena, then a futatsume, and finally a shin’uchi. When that day comes, my nemesis will acknowledge how my father’s rakugo made me great and I will have my revenge!” Akane closed a fist and spoke with great passion after finishing off her dango. “He destroyed my dad and I’m going to destroy him! Arakawa Shinta died that day and Arakawa Akane will show everyone what a mistake that was!”

Chihiro’s eyes widened behind his mask like he had no idea people could just murder each other like that. “I hope it works out,” he said very quietly but with genuine encouragement.

“It will,” Akane said with complete confidence. “I’ve been studying my dad’s rakugo since he became a zenza. I know a lot of stories already. I’m already on my way.”

Something moved out of the corner of Akane’s eye. She put a hand out between the movement and Chihiro. A tall man with bleached hair seemingly appeared beside Shiguma and Azami. Shiba spoke in a quiet, firm, but hurried voice. He mentioned something called Hishaku and something unexpected. It seemed less like talking about the war and more like talking about something happening in the present. Akane’s hand in front of Chihiro tensed even more. She waited for the sirens to sound, but they remained silent.

Shiguma’s lips pressed into a thin line. Azami’s visible eye narrowed. Shiba nodded solemnly before turning towards the bench and calling out quietly, “Chihiro, let’s go.”

Akane slowly dropped her arm and Chihiro slid off the bench. “Bye, Aka-nee,” he said with a wave before hurrying to Shiba’s side. Shiba put his arms around Chihiro and Azami. Azami looked as though he was bracing himself for an amusement park ride.

Shiguma walked over to the bench, many thoughts seemingly swirling behind his eyes. His frown grew ever-deeper as he studied Akane for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was the most serious that Akane heard it since the war, “We must leave.”

“Yes, sensei,” Akane said and followed him into the crowd. She kept close to him as a heaviness continued to grow in her stomach. She swallowed and asked very quietly, “Are they going to run the sirens?”

“No,” Shiguma said, “but you should go home in case they do.”

Akane glanced over her shoulder, but Chihiro, Shiba, and Azami were not there as if they must have vanished much like Shiba suddenly appeared earlier. It made the heaviness within Akane grow even deeper. When Akane got home, she waited for the sirens, but they never came. The news did not mention anything unusual and definitely did not explain what a Hishaku was. Akane slept terribly that night.

~

The Hishaku raid on the Kamunabi headquarters weeks ago ended in disaster. The Sword Master escaped with the Shinuchi. Chihiro and Samura entered the building too late to do anything to help the sea of dead and injured people with pine trees and flowers growing from their bodies. Chihiro could still remember finding Hakuri, expecting the worst, but Hagiwara protected Hakuri and Kiri. Uruha and Azami were not so lucky. Uruha barely able to move while covered in flowers and Azami picking his own severed arm up from the floor before howling in delayed pain haunted Chihiro’s nightmares along with the power of the Shinuchi. He could not let the blades bring about more destruction, but everything was so slow going.

In the weeks that followed, the Sword Master and the Shinuchi remained elusive. Chihiro’s allies speculated that the clans with similar morals might be hiding him. Chihiro, Hakuri, and Iori worked together to uncover more information. It was slow going and frustrating. Their search led them to Tokyo and they agreed to rest at Hinao’s for now. The last thing that Chihiro expected was for Akane to appear.

Her eyes lit up and she hugged him just as warm and tight as always. Chihiro felt her absence the instant that she let go and her friends understandably pulled her away to question her. It would have been weirder if her friends had not seen the video of the kabuki incident and very concerning if they were not afraid of Chihiro because of it.

“Chihiro,” Iori said in a quiet tone as she leaned closer despite Hakuri sitting between them, “you never told us you knew someone famous.”

“She’s famous?” Chihiro asked. Of course, she would be, but he had no idea what the popularity of anything or anyone was except for the anime characters that he saw on advertisements in cities regularly. Even then, he knew none of their names or why the characters were popular.

“My memory of it is a little fuzzy,” Iori admitted, “but everyone was talking about Arakawa Akane in middle school. My second year middle school literature teacher even played one of her performances in class because he thought that it would help us connect with traditional cultural arts.”

“So, that’s why she’s familiar,” Hakuri said. “Some people in the clan love rakugo. They were always complaining about Arakawa Akane back then. Something about her being rude and too excitable. Tenri liked her I think.”

“They probably thought that she was rude because there was drama with some old guy,” Iori said. “She disappeared at some point when I lived with my aunt.”

“The ‘old guy’ is her nemesis,” Chihiro said. “She swore revenge against him.”

“Of course you would have a friend also obsessed with revenge,” Hinao said. “She’s cute though. I hope her friends don’t make her leave.”

As if on cue, the huddle ended and Akane returned to the counter with Hikaru and Karashi. “Sorry about that,” Akane said as she took the empty seat beside Chihiro. She introduced Hikaru and Karashi. Chihiro introduced Hakuri, Iori, and Hinao. Akane, Hikaru, and Karashi placed their orders.

“Chihiro,” Hikaru said, after observing him a long moment, “Akane said that you’ve known each other since you were kids. That means you know stories about Akane that we’ve never heard.”

Chihiro’s face became completely blank. He was not sure that he would like where this was going.

“Just because –” Akane began.

“I want to hear one,” Hikaru said. “Akane made us worry and so I’m curious now.”

Karashi sipped his drink and stayed out of it. Hakuri, Iori, and Hinao watched Chihiro, curious if he would actually tell a story or not.

Chihiro finished his soba. He had plenty of memories of Akane, but not a lot of them were memories that made for good stories or that he could share with others. Most of the time, the two of them met up because Shiguma and Shiba or Azami had to exchange information on the Hishaku. After a moment, he remembered a ghost story that he liked as a child and he could remember the first time he heard it. Chihiro sighed silently and spoke in a quiet monotone, “One time we went fishing and Aka-nee and Shiranami-san ended up at the same lake….”

~

One summer ten years ago when Chihiro was eight, Shiba took him fishing at a lake near one of the many abandoned, ruined villages across Japan that never recovered from the war. Plant life crept up the walls of the few buildings that Chihiro could see from the fishing spot. All of the buildings had no windows now. One of them had a massive hole in the roof. It reminded Chihiro of the buildings in the village near his home. If Shiba and Azami never took him outside of the countryside, he would have no clue that there were places in Japan that recovered from the war completely.

Chihiro used a cane pole to fish. The bait was in the water not even a few minutes before something would start biting. Sometimes the fish were too small and he had to throw them back into the water. Other times, the fish were so big that Shiba had to get the net. Chihiro looked forward to when they would grill the fish for supper. He wanted to learn how to do it so that he could repeat it at home. Chihiro’s father was a disaster at cooking so Chihiro started to run the kitchen once he was old enough to use a knife. He was not allowed to start fires yet, but in a couple of years, he would be unstoppable.

A noise approached in the water and a boat appeared. Chihiro tensed, but Shiba remained at ease. “Hello,” Shiranami called out in a quiet voice that easily projected across the water. “Can we join you?”

Akane waved from where she sat at the bow of the boat. They had a bucket with some fish in it between them in the boat and their own fishing gear.

“Yeah,” Shiba said. He helped bring the boat up onto the shore. Akane got out of the boat and hurried over to Chihiro to greet him. “Chihiro!” She hugged him tight but brief. “Did you catch anything?”

Chihiro returned the hug as best that he could with the cane pole in his hand. “Yeah,” he said and showed Akane the fish in his bucket.

Shiranami and Shiba began a hushed conversation. The conversation was quiet enough that Chihiro could not follow it so he stopped listening.

Akane cut a worm in half and handed one of the pieces to Chihiro. They fixed the worm pieces to their hooks. Chihiro watched his worm piece wiggle a long moment. Shiba told him that cutting a worm in half gave them two live worms. Chihiro did not buy it. He moved the string through the air carefully and tried to let it fall as far away from him as possible in the water.

Akane cast her line farther out from them than Chihiro’s line. Their bobbers moved in the water. The breeze ruffled their hair.

“I want to be a smith, but I can’t start training yet,” Chihiro said as he kept his eyes on his bobber.

“What are you going to smith?” Akane asked.

“Knives,” Chihiro said. He could not mention his dad so he paraphrased his dad instead. “If I can make a knife, I can make anything.”

“You could make horseshoes,” Akane suggested. Her bobber disappeared into the water and then reappeared. She reeled her line in. There was no worm on her hook.

“There aren’t any horses around,” Chihiro said and then he jumped as his bobber disappeared under the water and stayed under the water. He tried to pull the line in but the pole bowed and threatened to break. The weight of the fish on the other end was too much for him.

Akane grabbed the net and crashed into the water. She scooped the fish on Chihiro’s hook into the net and twisted the net closed. “Got him!” She emerged from the lake with a large grin, soaked up to the cuff of her shorts, but it did not seem to phase her. “Look at the size of the fish! You did great!”

Chihiro brought the bucket to Akane and she dumped the fish into it. It splashed water all over the place and then calmed. They added more water to the bucket to cover all the fish inside it.

“Looks like we have enough fish,” Shiranami said. “I’ll clean and grill them. We can eat them here.”

Chihiro watched the entire cleaning process with great focus. Shiranami’s knife work was swift and efficient. He skewered the fish and placed them strategically along the fire that Shiba made. Chihiro paid close attention to what the fish looked like whenever Shiranami changed their positions in relation to the fire.

When the fish finished cooking, all of them sat around the fire as the sun moved towards the horizon. Shiranami finished eating first and asked, “Should I tell a ghost story?” With three receptive answers, he began to tell a tale about a poor samurai and his wife in a quiet, resonate voice.

Chihiro could not look away. He could see the story and the characters so vividly in his mind. Chihiro continued to watch Shiranami even after the story ended. Chihiro wanted to know why the samurai did not realize that his wife was a ghost when he arrived home, but it seemed like a rude question.

“Now,” Shiranami said once everyone finished eating and the sun started to set. “Akane and I must go.” Shiranami shouldered the bag carrying their fishing equipment and took on the brunt of the weight of the boat while Akane helped carry it. They bid Chihiro and Shiba goodbye and left.

“I heard Tohru’s coming home tomorrow,” Shiba said as he helped gather their fishing equipment. “That’ll be fun for Akane.”

“Who’s Tohru?” Chihiro asked.

“Her dad,” Shiba said.

Chihiro studied Shiba a long moment and then said very slowly, “But her dad is dead. That guy murdered him.”

Shiba laughed and then cleared his throat and said in a bemused voice, “He’s alive. Don’t worry. Shinta was his stage name and he just got expelled from rakugo. Akane always tells the story more dramatically than it was.”

Chihiro was glad that no one got murdered over rakugo. He secured the hook on his cane pole. Once everything was secure, Shiba teleported them back home.

~

Ten years after the fishing trip, Akane sipped her drink and listened to Chihiro recount the memory. He spoke without modulation to his voice, but he described things in a way that lent well to imagination. Shiba only appeared in the tale as an ambiguous “we,” but Chihiro told them about Akane helping with the net in all its goofiness. Then, he chose to tell the ghost story that Shiguma told, but with modifications as though Chihiro told himself the story many times over the years.

“His neighbor put a hand on the samurai’s shoulder,” Chihiro finished the story in a steady, soft voice, “and told him that his wife died weeks after he left unable to take his absence any longer. The samurai could not bear the thought. He left the hut with the money still inside and let the river swallow him like his wife’s cold embrace.”

No one spoke. Chihiro licked his lips and tensed slightly as if he was as surprised as Akane that he chose to tell the ghost story.

“That was really good!” Akane and Hakuri said at the same. Akane and Hakuri exchanged looks and Akane laughed a little over speaking at the same time. Hakuri smiled.

“It was really creepy too,” Iori said.

“You must have really liked the story,” Hinao said. “You should tell us other stories you like sometime.”

“It was good,” Karashi said.

“I liked the addition of the river at the end,” Hikaru said.

Chihiro’s ears grew steadily redder with every compliment. He cleared his throat and his voice returned to his typical disaffected monotone, “After we were done eating, I found out that Aka-nee’s dad wasn’t actually dead.”

“What?” Akane asked. “Why would you think that he was dead?”

“‘On that day,’” Karashi quoted in Akane’s typical cadence, “‘the rakugoka Arakawa Shinta died.’”

“‘I'll be a shin'uchi and make them all realize, especially him,’” Hikaru joined in, putting great emphasis on the word him just like Akane would do, “‘just how great my dad's craft was.’”

Mortification bloomed in Akane’s chest and spread throughout her body. She buried her face in her hands and groaned, “Do I really sound like that?”

“When we first met,” Hikaru said. “You were very adamant about it. Now you just call Isshou-sensei your nemesis. Never stop doing that.”

“I won’t. He is my nemesis,” Akane said. She pushed her cup towards Hinao. “More please.”

Hinao poured her another drink. Akane was tempted to drink the whole thing in a few gulps but sipped it instead. “C’est la fin des haricots…” she sighed.

“You know French?” Iori asked.

“Sort of,” Akane said. “I’ve been in France for the last three years.” She pulled out her smart phone. Her phone was so useful and always made her glad that she was not a sorcerer stuck with a flip phone to avoid GPS. She accessed a photo gallery and handed the phone to Hakuri. Chihiro and Iori leaned over to see the phones as Hakuri carefully advanced through the album. The photos started with typical tourist photos and after a while became photos of animals and friends. Chihiro returned the phone to Akane when they reached the last photo in the album and Akane put her phone away.

“So, what have you guys been up to?” Akane asked.

Chihiro and his friends remained silent for a long moment. Hakuri and Iori’s gaze shifted to Chihiro. Hakuri made a tiny gesture that made Iori narrow her eyes and Chihiro’s eyebrows flatten. Chihiro sighed a little and the other two seemed encouraging.

“Teenagers get to have their secrets,” Karashi said and finished his drink.

“It’s fine,” Chihiro said. “I helped forge a sword and met Hakuri and Iori because of it. We’ve been…hanging out ever since. The sword showed me what I have to do with my life.”

Akane probably should not have asked, but she was curious. The sword seemed like it should be exciting, but it almost sounded ominous instead. She remembered the time Chihiro showed her his first knife. He was so into it. Now his eyes seemed duller and his shoulders seemed heavier. Akane finished her drink. She wanted to know more, but now was not the time, the place, or the company to ask it. Even then, Chihiro might not tell her if it had to do with sorcery. She did not blame him. She saw long ago what being a sorcerer could mean and she would rather be a rakugoka.

~

Six years ago when Akane was sixteen, she finally became a zenza and officially a rakugo pupil of Shiguma. Immediately her life changed. She met Shiguma’s other pupils and Kyouji became her mentor. Rakugo took up even more of Akane’s days than before from chores because of rakugo, a part time job at an izakaya because of rakugo, and further memorization. It was difficult to concentrate on homework and tests when so much about Akane’s future and her quest began to fall into place. Luckily, Kyouji cracked down on her and helped her pass her exams so that she did not have to take remedial classes during breaks.

Not long after starting her job at the izakaya, Akane headed home from work one night. As she walked, she held her hand in front of her as if holding a manju. This was how her father would hold it when he performed years ago. Akane flattened her hand. She cupped one hand and picked an imaginary manju out of her palm. The gesture was similar but also different. This is how she would hold one. Akane flattered her hands again. She warped her face a bit and then picked up an imaginary manju again as the character in the story might. She studied her fingers. This was probably how she should do it the next time that she told the story. It seemed a little defeatist. She was supposed to beat her nemesis with her dad’s rakugo.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice asked nearby.

Akane almost jumped out of her skin. She flattened her hands and looked at Chihiro standing not even two meters away from her. His eyebrows smoothed out and he watched her as if he might be worried about her making weird gestures while walking alone at night. “Chihiro! Why are you here?” Akane asked as she hugged him, tight and brief.

“We’re on our way home,” Chihiro said after returning the hug in kind and nodded towards Azami standing nearby surveying the area around them.

“Evening, Akane,” Azami said. He still had his ears pierced and wore a long sleeved shirt under his short-sleeved dress shirt like the teenagers did when Akane’s parents were young. It still suited him somehow.

“Good evening, Azami-san,” Akane said and bowed slightly.

“You’re being really respectful,” Azami said as he returned the bow in kind and smiled in amusement.

“Kyouji-ani told me to work on it,” Akane said. “I’m a zenza now. There are a lot of rules.”

“So, you’re performing now?” Chihiro asked.

“Yeah!” Akane grinned. “I’ve done two shows already! I got to watch Kyouji-ani perform at the last one I did. He was so good. It made me realize that I’ve got to analyze what I’m doing more. That’s why I was practicing.” She picked a manju out of her hand again. “I’ve got to make this look right for the next time that I tell the story.”

“We can’t stay long,” Azami said, more to Chihiro than Akane.

“Right,” Chihiro said. “Before we go, I want to show Aka-nee something.” He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out a knife. He removed the cloth sheath from the blade and presented it to Akane carefully.

Akane took the handle of the knife and admired the blade with genuine awe. It looked like other knives that she saw in camping stores, but with a more rudimentary pattern to the blade. “Did you make this?” she asked.

“I had help with it,” Chihiro said. “I want to make one by myself someday.”

“It’s really good,” Akane said and returned the knife carefully.

“It has a small crack and it’s a little warped. I’ll do it better next time,” Chihiro said. He placed the sheath back on the blade and pocketed the knife. His gaze seemed to sweep the area around them but he did not seem to see any sign of threat. “When’s your next show?”

“I don’t know yet,” Akane said. “They kind of tell me where to go without much warning.”

“If you ever find out in advance, invite me, and I’ll go,” Chihiro said. He stepped back towards Azami. “Night.”

“Night,” Akane said. She continued on her way home and crossed the street. When she looked back, Chihiro and Azami were gone. She sighed and started to recite the manju story while she walked so that she could continue to analyze her gestures.

~

Six years after the knife incident, boots bounced against the interior stairs that led from the apartment above Hinao’s Café to the main level. Char emerged from a doorway and said loudly, “I’m awake! It’s almost time! You guys promised we’d see the sunrise!” She paused when she noticed Akane, Hikaru, and Karashi at the counter. Her posture tensed.

“These are Chihiro’s friends,” Hinao said. “You just missed Chihiro tell a ghost story.”

Char observed Akane, Hikaru, and Karashi a long moment. Her gaze shifted to Chihiro. Her eyes narrowed skeptically.

“Akane is my friend. The others are her friends,” Chihiro said.

“I believe that more,” Char said. She hopped up onto a stepstool behind the counter so that she could be at eye level with everyone. “I want to hear the ghost story.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Chihiro said. “Promise.”

Char nodded, satisfied for now.

With the cups, glasses, and plates empty, Hinao cleared the counter, Akane’s group paid for their drinks, and everyone headed out of the café together towards the park nearby with a view of the bay. Families and other groups of people were already at the park when they arrived. Chihiro scanned the crowd and the area but there was no sign of threat or sorcery. His group found a place to stand with a good view of the horizon. Chihiro let Char climb onto his back so that she would have a better view.

Akane moved closer to Chihiro and asked quietly, “What is everyone watching for?”

Chihiro thought a long moment. Akane knew more than the average non-sorcerer, but she stayed out of things like the average non-sorcerer. He did not want to ruin that for her. However, a lot of traditional arts involved sorcerers and clans, so keeping her completely ignorant would not be a good strategy either. “Three years ago, my dad died. It was…” Chihiro’s voice trailed and an emptiness seemed to grow hollower in his gut. “I want to take care of something he gave me to do and get my revenge against the group that killed him. That’s what we’ve been doing.”

“So the kabuki thing…?” Akane asked.

“It was related,” Chihiro said. “I’ve killed a lot of people to get to this point.”

The horizon began to lighten just enough to suggest where the water met the sky. “I met your dad once, so I think I understand,” Akane murmured. The wind blew her hair form her face. “Do you think that the sirens will start going off again? Is it that kind of a group?”

“I don’t know,” Chihiro admitted, “but we shouldn’t have any trouble today, and if we do, I’ll take care of it.”

“He will too,” Char said and her grip tightened. “Chihiro always takes care of things.”

Chihiro’s lips pressed into a thin line. He thought of Uruha and Azami at the Kamunabi headquarters and the other injured and dead agents. His teeth grit together enough that they made a little noise when they slid against each other. Stopping an attack on a beach and stopping people from misusing Enchanted Blades were two different things. He would eventually stop the misuse of the blades, but he might not be able to stop everything that happened with the blades in the meantime.

“Just take care of yourself too, okay?” Akane said. She reached up and poked the scar along the side of his face and then her hand dropped away.

Chihiro could not promise that he would. He decided to change the subject. “How’s your revenge going?”

“How did I forget to tell you?” Akane asked. “Chihiro, three years ago, Shiguma-sensei got throat cancer and had to stop performing, so my nemesis became my teacher.”

“That sounds bad,” Chihiro said, not sure how else to describe it. For the briefest of brief moments, Chihiro imagined having to learn swordsmanship under Yura. It was a ludicrous, awful thought.

“It’s so annoying,” Akane said. “I hate it a lot. I mean he compliments me and I earn every compliment, so it’s like I’m winning battles, but this isn’t really how I imagined getting him to acknowledge my art was going to go. There’s this…” she tried to think of the right word, “hedonism to his style. His students have to present themselves like they have money. There are fancy dinners sometimes. It’s so weird. I don’t really want to be a part of it but…” she sighed. “It sounds silly compared to what you’re doing. I’m going to win though.”

“I have no doubts,” Chihiro said.

The colors of the clouds continued to grow and change as the sky became lighter and brighter. Akane snapped some photos with her phone. The sun appeared above the horizon. Chihiro focused his eyes away from the sun and on the fading colors in the sky. He felt Char lean her head against the back of his head and he adjusted his grip on her so that she could rest without falling.

“It was good to see you again,” Akane said as she put her phone away. “I’m glad you’ve got more friends than just your uncles now.”

Uncles was one way to put it. Chihiro decided not to clarify. “Me too.” He paused. “I saw your performance in Shibuya three years ago. It was fun. I liked Shiranami-san’s performance too. I think about it sometimes, the candles and the cave.”

“That performance kind of got away from me,” Akane said, “but I’m glad that you liked it. Do you want me to tell Shigma-sensei about your compliment the next time I see him?”

“Yeah,” Chihiro said.

“I’ve got a blog now. I keep my performance schedule updated there,” Akane said. “Come see one of them sometime. I’m a better rakugoka now.”

“Someday,” Chihiro promised.

Akane smiled and ruffled his hair. She waved and headed over to Hikaru and Karashi. They bid everyone goodbye and then left the beach. Chihiro watched them disappear. There was still no sign of threat. Slowly, Chihiro and his friends returned to Hinao’s Café.

~

Three years ago, when Chihiro was almost fifteen and his father was still alive, Shiranami extended an invitation to Chihiro and Shiba to watch his rakugo performance in Shibuya. Kunishige encouraged them to go since he had commitments elsewhere and it would be a chance for Chihiro to see Shibuya. Azami joined Chihiro and Shiba in the off chance that something went wrong. So far, nothing had ever gone wrong.

Shibuya was huge. Buildings towered overhead. People moved like schools of fish. Chihiro was careful to stay with Shiba and Azami as they moved with the crowds towards their destination. The theater advertised Arakawa Shiguma in large letters and in much smaller letters that Arakawa Akane would open for him. Shiba led them to seats in the very back row. Chihiro scanned the audience. No one looked unusual. He was not the only teenager in the audience either, though there were many more adults.

Akane appeared onstage and a warmth filled the room as her voice took an easy but enthusiastic timbre. The tale she began with was familiar and slowly more characters joined the story that Chihiro did not remember from the other times that he heard it told. As the story continued, even more characters, some Chihiro recognized from other tales, joined the story. Somehow, Akane wove all of it together so that things did not become confusing or jumbled. The more that Akane spoke, the more excited and enthusiastic she became, and the less Chihiro paid attention to his surroundings.

When the story ended, there was a small pause and then the audience applauded. Chihiro glanced at Shiba and Azami. Both of them were still completely aware of their surroundings and subtly keeping watch for threats. Chihiro pressed his lips together and surveyed the theater. There was still no sign of threat, but he probably should have kept watch too.

“Don’t worry about it,” Azami whispered as if he could hear Chihiro’s thoughts. “This is why we’re here. Enjoy the show.”

“If we have to leave, I’ll get us out of here immediately,” Shiba whispered.

“I know,” Chihiro whispered. He still felt like he should keep his wits and carry some of the load despite that.

Shiranami took the stage and the audience immediately quieted. Chihiro felt his breath catch. Shiranami’s presence filled the theater and beyond even though he had yet to speak. He took his place onstage and his voice remained quiet even though it carried well to the back of the theater with ease.

In Shiranami’s tale, a man made a deal with a shinigami and used the powers that he gained to treat sick people by getting rid of the other shinigami that haunted them. Eventually, the shinigami who gave this man his power returned and brought the man to a cave filled with candles. Each candle represented a life and the man’s life was about to burn down past the wick. If the man could light a fresh candle with the dying flame of the nearly burnt out candle, he would continue to live.

Chihiro leaned forward. Shiranami’s hand shook as it extended its invisible candle towards the invisible dying flame and his voice waivered with each millimeter. Then the dying flame reached the end of the wick and snuffed itself out before the new candle could touch it.

Shiranami held his pose a long moment. There was no sound in the theater. Chihiro held his breath.

Slowly applause began and soon filled the theater. Chihiro clapped too, realizing once again that he forgot to help watch for threat. Shiranami left the stage and then the applause quieted.

“We should go,” Shiba said as he rose from his seat.

Chihiro blinked. He wanted to visit with Shiranami and Akane, but Shiba was right. They could not linger here. Chihiro sighed and followed Azami out of the row of seats. There would be time to talk to Akane and Shiranami later since Chihiro would likely see them again before the end of the year like always.

There was an alleyway not far from the theater. Combustible trash rose in high stacks. Laundry hung out to dry on balconies. There was no sign of anyone watching Chihiro, Shiba, and Azami from the buildings nearby or the street.

“I have to return to headquarters,” Azami said.

“I’ll send you the security check soon,” Shiba said. “See you.”

“Bye,” Chihiro said.

Azami nodded. Shiba took hold of Chihiro and soon they teleported away. When Chihiro returned home, Kunishige was not home yet. Shiba left to check the perimeter. Chihiro started supper. When Kunishige returned home, he had three goldfish with him.

~

Three years after the Shibuya performance, Akane, Hikaru, and Karashi reached the train station near the park where they watched the first sunrise of the new year. They settled at one of the platforms. All of them would take different trains. Karashi checked his phone and tapped out a quick text as a train rushed into the station. “This one’s mine,” he said and stifled a yawn. “Happy New Year. See you later.”

“Happy new year!” Akane called out. “See you later!”

“Bye!” Hikaru said. “Happy New Year!”

Karashi nodded and disappeared into the crowd boarding the train.

Akane yawned and checked her phone. There were dozens of messages and emails to check on the train. She also needed to post the sunrise photos to her social media. She tried to decide the order of important for those things in her mind, but her brain wanted to go in sleepy circles. She shut off her phone screen and put her phone away as Karashi’s train left the station.

“We probably aren’t going to see each other again for a while,” Hikaru said. Her fingers toyed with the strap of her bag and then she grasped one of Akane’s hands. “I’m the train after this one and my =stop isn’t far from here. Do you want to come over?”

Akane blinked. She let Hikaru hold her hand as her brain shut down and slowly spun. That was not what Akane expected Hikaru to say, although she was not completely sure what she expected either. Instinctively she knew that this was a different kind of invitation than the one that Risa made her months ago when she returned from France, but no one ever asked this of Akane before and she never really thought about it before. With not much experience to draw from, the first thing that popped into Akane’s head immediately came out of her mouth, “I… promised Risa that we’d do hatsumode today.”

Hikaru held Akane’s gaze and then looked away. Her hand slipped from Akane’s hand. The absence of Hikaru’s hand seemed heavier than its presence. The absence became an emptiness in Akane’s gut that wanted to fester. It was strange, new, and different. It spurred Akane to action as she grasped Hikaru’s hand tightly. She barely registered the train entering the station. “I’ve never… I mean…” Akane’s voice trailed. Her brain was too tired to think and she needed it to think right now. She bit her lip. “I want to come over. Maybe next time?”

Hikaru searched Akane’s face and moved closer. “You’ve never…?” Her breath was very close.

“Never,” Akane said and swallowed involuntarily as she felt her cheeks grow warm despite the chill in the station.

Hikaru kissed Akane’s cheek and then her hand slipped from Akane’s grasp and said in a soft voice that seemed to only exist between them, “Don’t miss your train. Like you said, next time.”

Akane blinked and then managed to scramble aboard her train before it left the station. She could see Hikaru through the windows of the door as it closed. “Next time! I promise!” she called out, not sure if Hikaru could hear her. The entire train cabin did hear her though and no one was into anyone being that loud at this hour after an entire night of fun.

The train pulled out of the station and Hikaru left Akane’s view. Akane’s heart pounded in her chest. She pressed her hands to her face, but one of her hands was too warm to cool anything down. This year was going to be an experience. She held onto the pole nearby, took out her phone, and found her favorite photo of the sunrise. She gazed at it a long moment. Her promise to Hikaru, the next time she might see Chihiro, and her goals stretched out in front of her. She captioned her photo and posted it to her blog. She checked her texts. Her parents saw her performance streaming and loved it. Her friends and aniki saw it too and all had compliments. Risa met up with someone that she knew and was staying at their place, but she’d probably be back for hatsumode and supper.

Akane sighed, turned off her phone screen, and put it in her pocket. Maybe she should have gone with Hikaru after all. The future continued to tumble through her mind as she waited for her stop. She looked forward to all of it.

~

Two years passed since Akane saw Chihiro at Hinao’s Café during Shougatsu. It was summer now and the night was dark, hot, and sticky. Akane checked her messages on her way to the store. Hikaru had two requests to add to the shopping list. Akane texted a determined tanuki sticker. A year ago, Akane and Hikaru started living together. It was still an adjustment, but it was fun. Hikaru had a performance this evening and would be home late. Akane’s performance ended hours ago and she wanted to pick some things up for supper.

Akane put her phone away and pulled her hair up into a haphazard bun, securing it with a hairband. She inhaled the hot night air and paused as blood filled her nose. There was a figure up ahead staring at contents in a vending machine up ahead. The light from the vending machine illuminated the scars on his face. His hands seemed to shake uncontrollably.

“Chihiro..?” Akane asked.

Chihiro’s glare was sharp and intense, but immediately softened when he recognized her. “Aka-nee,” he murmured tiredly. His clothes were black but there was definitely blood oozing past his sleeve down one of his hands.

“Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?” Akane asked as she hurried over.

“Yeah,” Chihiro said, “but I have to…” his legs seemed to wobble, but he kept his balance. “I need water. It’s the only thing that works against this.”

Akane wanted to ask, “Against what?” but she was not sure that he would tell her. She reached into her bag and handed him the bottle of water that she kept inside it.

Chihiro crouched on the ground. He poured some water into his palm and set the bottle on the ground. He shared the water with his other palm and cupped his hands together. Sparks erupted from his hands before turning into a mist that plumed in the air. Eventually the mist dissipated and the shaking in Chihiro’s arms and legs stopped as if he dispelled something. He stood up and put the bottle in his pocket. His shoulders sagged.

Akane checked the area around them, peering into the darkness as best she could. There was no sign of anyone or weapons nearby that she could see. She could not detect sorcery, but Chihiro did not seem to react as if there was such a threat. Akane grabbed his hand not covered in blood and pulled him over to a nearby bench. “I’ve got a first-aid kit,” she said as she guided him into a sitting position.

“You don’t have to…” Chihiro said, but he did not resist either.

“I do,” Akane said firmly. She took a small first-aid kit from her bag and helped him ease his arm out of the sleeve of his shirt. “You know, all of my first memories are of the war. The people who knew how to fight would stay up there and the rest of us had to stay down there until the sirens stopped.” She inspected the wound on Chihiro’s bicep and then wiped it clean with an alcohol wipe. The wound seemed like something that needed stitches. Akane did not have that kind of equipment in her kit. “I saw someone lose their leg to an infection once. Someone realized what was causing her fever and…” Akane dabbed the wound with a clean dry cloth and then placed a bandage accordingly, making sure it was snugly in place. “Mom always make sure that Dad’s wounds didn’t turn out that way.” Akane’s voice grew quiet and her eyes a little distant. One time her father had a head wound and would not wake up. Her mother talked about every single first aid step that she took against the wound in a shaky voice as if that was the only way to get through the situation. They had to take her father to the hospital when the sirens stopped.

“Did your dad have to go to the island as back up?” Chihiro asked quietly.

“No,” Akane said. “We were just a choume trying to survive. We were always on defense.”

Chihiro nodded and did not even wince when Akane found another cut on his side and began to wipe it down with another alcohol wipe. “Did you get your revenge yet?” he asked without even a hiss of pain in his voice.

“No,” Akane said and tried not to think about how he developed such a high pain tolerance. “I’m still a futatsume.” She cut one of the adhesive strips away from a large bandage and then overlapped a second bandage on top of it to cover the entirety of the wound along Chihiro’s side. “I’ve got a new zenza. She reminds me of you. She’s very serious. I have to help her look the part of our school. It’s… ridiculous. I wish that I could put her in a cat costume instead.”

Akane scrutinized Chihiro for evidence of more wounds but the rest of the blood dampening his clothes did not seem to be his. She put her first-aid kit away and wiped her hands with a wipe as she sighed, “Looks like you’re still working on revenge.”

“Yeah,” Chihiro said. “Every time I think ‘this will be the last one,’ it’s not. It just keeps…going.” He rubbed blood across his face without thought and then accepted the wipe Akane offered him to clean it off his face and hands.

Both of them assessed the area. There was still no sign of threat. Akane stared at something to their left a long moment and then said, “Do you want to go with me to Shiguma-sensei’s grave? I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

Chihiro stiffened briefly and then nodded and stuffed the trash into his pockets so Akane would not have to. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

The graveyard was not far away. This was the first time that Akane ever visited it at night. The shadows seemed to loom and the silence seemed more profound. “He died a little over a year ago. I heard it was peaceful,” she said quietly, not wanting to break the heavy feeling of silence around them.

“Is that possible?” Chihiro asked just as quietly.

“He was asleep,” Akane said.

They arrived at Shiguma’s grave marker with Shiranami carved at the top and several first names engraved underneath it. Yousuke was the latest addition to the marker. The grave was clean, tended to mostly by rakugo students now. Akane lit incense and placed it in the holder. “Good evening, Shiguma-sensei,” she said. “I brought Chihiro with me tonight.”

“Evening,” Chihiro said after a long pause as if he was unaccustomed to speaking at graves.

“I’ve got a new zenza,” Akane said. “Kyouji-ani likes to tease me that she’s like my own little moon. Kaisei-ani thinks I’m too gentle with her, but I want her to do well.” She continued to speak, telling Shiguma of the things that happened since the last time that she visited his grave. The breeze picked up and it felt as though Shiguma sat across from her smiling as he listened. Akane swallowed and admitted in her quietest voice, “I miss you,” before it became too difficult to say anything else at all.

There was another very long pause and then Chihiro spoke in a soft voice, “I always enjoyed listening to your stories. Thank you for sharing them with me.” He paused. “May you sleep peacefully, Shiranami-san.”

They lingered a moment. A slight breeze blew Akane’s hair from her face and ruffled Chihiro’s hair. Akane wiped at her eyes and they left the graveyard. “Do you want to go somewhere for drinks? You’ve got to be twenty by now, right?” Akane asked.

“I’ll be twenty-one soon,” Chihiro said, “but I’ve got to go. Hakuri and Iori are expecting me.”

Akane hugged him and Chihiro returned the hug with his uninjured arm, careful not to get any blood from his clothes on her. “See you later,” Akane said.

“See you later,” Chihiro said. He texted someone and then sorcery surrounded him and he disappeared as though the spell could summon him to Hakuri and Iori’s side immediately.

Akane stared at the place that Chihiro once stood a long moment. Her phone buzzed. She jumped a little and then looked at her messages. Hikaru was home and worried that Akane was not back yet. Akane promised to head home soon. She gathered herself and left in the direction of the store.

~

Two years before the grave visit, Chihiro and the others returned to Hinao’s Café after watching the first sunrise of the year. Hinao began prepping the café for breakfast service. She would keep watch while working. Chihiro and the others headed upstairs to the apartment and left their boots at the door. Char planted her feet on the floor, yawned, and murmured, “I want to hear the ghost story.”

“Are you awake enough for it?” Chihiro asked as he hung his coat on a hook.

“Yeah,” Char said.

Chihiro followed Char to her room and sat on the floor. Char climbed into her futon and when she was ready, he began the tale. “Once long ago before the Tokugawa period, a poor samurai and his wife lived in a hut. When a lord in a neighboring kingdom called the samurai to battle, he had no choice but to leave. The money was too good to ignore and his honor too great to refuse. His wife promised to wait for his return and watched him leave, staring after him long after he was far out of sight.

“The battle became a war. The samurai was gone for years. He killed and killed, determined to survive and return home to his wife. When the war ended, the lord rewarded him with even more money than promised and the samurai returned home as quickly as he could.

“When he entered the hut, his wife welcomed him warmly. They admired their coins and began speculating what they would do with the money over their last bowls of porridge. Even on their threadbare futon, they continued planning their future. They would have a garden and new blankets. They would buy meat for every supper and repair their home. The samurai fell asleep with his wife in his arms and a smile on his face.

“When morning arrived, the samurai slowly became aware of how cold the hut was. Every breath he took seemed full of dust. There was a weight on his chest, but when he moved his hand along his wife’s kimono, he could only feel something cold and bumpy underneath instead of flesh. He grasped a rope wound around his neck and tried to pull it away, but it tangled. He opened his eyes and saw a skeleton in his wife’s kimono, its hair wrapped around his body.”

Chihiro paused. Char watched him intently but sleepily. He thought about the ending that he normally gave the story, but Char might not like that ending. Chihiro decided on a new direction and resumed the tale, “The samurai freed himself from the skeleton’s hair and sat up. The hut was covered in dust and there were burrows in the floor. The coins that the samurai brought home were on the table from the night before and the ghost of his wife watched him nearby. She kissed his face in a last goodbye and disappeared from the hut, her final wish fulfilled. The samurai could do nothing but stare after her long after she disappeared.”

“Why didn’t he notice she was a ghost before?” Char murmured.

“She didn’t let him,” Chihiro said.

Char’s eyes closed and soon she was asleep. Chihiro headed to the living room. There were three futons with no space between them on the floor. Hakuri and Iori were already sprawled out on two of them, still awake.

“…do you want to go? I haven’t been since I was a kid,” Hakuri said quietly.

“I don’t know…” Iori murmured. “What if something happens?”

Chihiro settled onto the empty futon beside Iori. Immediately, Hakuri and Iori looked at him.

“Hatsumode, yes or no?” Hakuri asked.

Chihiro stared at them a long moment and then said, “I’ve never been.”

“We’ve got a few days to think about it,” Iori said. “It can wait.”

The sun shone through the windows. Hakuri and Iori’s breathing slowly evened. Chihiro stared at the ceiling. He knew that he should sleep too, but the inaction of the last several days after non-stop action left him restless. A year ago, he did not even realize that it was Shougatsu until gongs started calling people to hatsumode during a fierce battle when Chihiro pursued a lead on Kumeyuri that did not pan out. Everything about the last three years up until the Soujou incident seemed to be a blur of fighting, losing, winning, and bleeding. The only way that Chihiro could order those memories in his mind was by how Enten fit in his hands and how his coat hung on his shoulders.

Slowly, a thought emerged from the back of Chihiro’s mind, a world in the far future when the blades were safe and the Hishaku were dead. He would be able to go anywhere and do anything. Hakuri and Iori would still be at his side. He would be able to visit the people he cared about without endangering them. He would see Akane perform as a shin’uchi and hear about how she succeeded in her revenge.

Chihiro’s eyes closed and his mind embraced the idea as if there might be a way to avoid the suicide part of his mission, as if there might be a day that he would not need Enten at his hip, as if there would be a future at all. It was a fantasy he could not hope for, but a future he seemed to want more with each day.

~

Nineteen years passed since the Shougatsu when Chihiro was eighteen. His birthday was only a month ago and now he was a year older than his father ever was in life. It was weird and unexpected, but it was what his father wanted. When the Sword Master died ten years ago, Chihiro prepared to die with him, but Enten saved him like Kunishige always intended. With his mission over, Chihiro left the Kamunabi and returned to the countryside. Hakuri and Iori followed him and they ended up near a village that was a slightly long train ride from Tokyo.

What remained of the Enchanted Blades stayed inside Storehouse, but Hakuri could not give up helping people. He was still with the Kamunabi and specialized in extracting people from clans that they wanted to leave. Iori taught people how to fight at a dojo in-between their village and the city. Chihiro returned to forging and found a mentor who lived not too far away. Chihiro could make anything he wanted now, but he found himself making things like knives, trivets, and lanterns for the villagers. They brought him food to repay him since he refused their money even though they did not have to. It was nice. It felt right.

Chihiro and Iori met up with Hakuri at a train station in Tokyo. It was a few weeks since Hakuri was home, but before they could all return home together that night, they had a party to attend.

Today was the fifteenth anniversary of Akane becoming shin’uchi and achieving her revenge. Every year she threw a party with all of her friends to celebrate wins in their lives. Chihiro did not attend the first few parties but he went to all of them in the last eight years after finally watching Akane perform at the top of her craft. This party was no different than previous parties though there were a few new faces this year. The restaurant was modest and intimate. Everyone crowded into a private room. Most people were rakugoka of past and present at all levels of the craft, but there were some of Akane’s friends from school and others too. Chihiro did not know everyone’s names, but it did not matter. They were all here to eat, drink, and celebrate.

“Welcome everyone!” Akane said once they all had their food and drinks. “Today is our annual celebration of our wins of the year and other good things. Let’s enjoy ourselves and forget our worries for a while.”

Everyone raised their glasses and then drank from them. Chatter flew around the table. Everyone seemed to have something to celebrate. Some people had promotions, others added family members, some had tiny small wins like onsen tickets from a raffle at the supermarket. One of the rakugoka started asking Hakuri questions about the garden that Hakuri kept as a hobby. Iori and Hanae started talking about a drama that they both followed. People changed seats and plates and cups migrated with them.

Akane settled onto the seat beside Chihiro. She slung an arm around him briefly and asked, “No wins from you this year?”

“I’ve got a house and a forge,” Chihiro said. “I’ve got partners and work. I don’t need wins.”

“Those sound like wins though,” Akane said.

“Wins makes it sound like an endless battle,” Chihiro said. “I want to live life, not fight it.”

“That sounds nice. I’m always fighting something,” Akane murmured.

“That’s because you pick every battle,” Chihiro said.

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Hikaru sighed.

“It’d be weirder if she didn’t,” Karashi said.

“How else do you think I have so many wins every year?” Akane asked and finished her drink.

They four of them laughed.

The party wrapped. People began to leave. Chihiro, Hakuri, and Iori bid Akane and the others goodbye and headed for their trains. As the last train progressed into the countryside, the sunset and darkness overtook the sky. Seats steadily emptied and after a while, the three of them were the only people left in their cabin. The rumble of the tracks was steady under their feet. The moon rose, large and pink. Chihiro’s leg rested against Hakuri’s leg and his hip against Iori’s hip. He kept aware of their surroundings.

“Is it weird if I still assume people will swarm the train before our stop?” Hakuri asked quietly.

“I think about that time too,” Chihiro said.

Iori stopped leaning on Chihiro. She closed her eyes and listened a long moment. She opened her eyes and said very firmly, “Nothing sounds weird. We’re safe.”

The train pulled up to their local platform. There was no sign of threat waiting for them. They disembarked and headed for home. The last of the cicadae sputtered in the trees. One of the few teenagers in the village passed them on the way. Their house was undisturbed when they arrived. Everything was quiet. Everything was peaceful.