Hello! First time I publish something here. It's actually... rather self-indulgent. Hope you dig it?


Kyoto is experiencing a rather nice, rather bright morning: sunny day, cool breeze. The best weather mid-spring has to offer. A crowd has gathered in the streets, people enjoying themselves with friends and family. A man walks briskly with them. He's been travelling for about a week by foot, give or take, almost non-stop. The traveler got to the skirts of the city that same day, ate something quick and got going again. Unsavory matters are waiting for him downtown and it's important for him to keep walking so he doesn't have time to regret his decision to come to Kyoto.

The traveller now arrives at the start of the street he is looking for, one with mostly restaurants and candy shops lined at both sides. He stops, suddenly. His destination, an inn and restaurant, lays maybe a dozen buildings ahead, at the end of the street. He can see the facade of the place from here, the huge sign on it: Aoiya. He takes a few steps ahead towards it, stops again, walks back. Repeats the process a couple times more. The street is busy and bustling with life, as is natural for a place in the shopping district, people coming and going and talking and laughing. The traveller supposes he looks foolish, a grown man walking back and forth indecisively among the moving crowd, but he simply can't help it.

He has come here to deliver bad news, and he is not sure he can do it.

But he has to, and so he takes a deep breath, turns, and then walks the distance to the inn, stands a few feet before it in the middle of the busy street. He takes a good look at the building, seemingly unchanged and untouched by time. It's been about eight years since he last was in there. He stepped out one night, part of a group of five, and is now back alone. Suddenly he feels insecure about going in, the heavy, difficult implications of what he is about to do hitting him full force for the first time. He has not talked about the end of the doomed job in Tokyo with anyone yet, and if he enters the hotel, he is gonna have to. And talking will make it all more real, and he is not quite sure he can bear that.

Coming to this place, the closest thing he has to a home now, had looked like the best thing to do in the aftermath of the Takeda business. A short term goal to focus on: get to Kyoto, talk to the Old man. It still did seem like the thing to do, he supposed, but he had not taken into consideration how hard it would be. He'd wanted to visit a couple of times during the time he had been on the road, had even thought he might eventually, but never in a million years he imagined it would be under these circumstances. Never imagined he'd come back alone. Grief and loneliness and guilt weigh heavy on his chest, trickle down, settle in his belly, make him sick. He feels very tired, an exhaustion that has nothing to do with his journey. This will only make things harder for him, he knows, and for a moment he contemplates leaving again, but a single thought stops him.

They have to know and it has to be you who tells them.

True. Sure, he supposes maybe they already know, the information network is still up, after all, but it doesn't feel right to leave it like that. As the only witness, the only one left standing, he feels it's his duty to inform the old man, face to face.

And the little girl, much as that will make his own hurt even worse.

He's already put it off long enough, too. For a while, he'd been wanted due to the disastrous job in Tokyo, had hidden deep in the mountains to nurse his wounds and his sorrow. He'd felt lost, had not known what to do. What to do when your reason for living, your place in the world is snatched away in less than ten seconds? And then he'd thought of the inn, and the girl, of Misao. What he had to do had become apparent: He had to bring the news about the last battle his comrades had fought. Honor their memory and their sacrifice by speaking of it. Except his own survival had seemed reason for shame, and so it had been difficult to get going, at first. Had lingered back in Tokyo more than he should have, perhaps.

His thoughts are interrupted by sudden movement at the inn's entrance, the sight of a familiar figure coming out onto the sunny street, just a few feet away from him. Okina. It's the old man, out now to sweep the street, and the first thought that comes to his mind once he has a good view of him is a little dumb: His hair is completely white now. There had still been traces of grey back then, he remembers. The night they had left, leaving Misao sleeping behind, and Okina looking after her. Thinking of Misao fills him with a new wave of pain and dread. Telling her will be the hardest part, he knows.

On the street, the old man stops mid-sweep, suddenly, sharply, and looks up in his direction. A mild panic rises in him, and he realizes he's been just standing there, staring. Stupid, so much for your espionage skills. He is startled to see that the other man has already advanced in his direction, a pleasantly surprised expression on his lined, bearded face. That won't last long, a voice whispers in his head and he realizes that if he doesn't leave now, there will be no turning back. An urge to jump onto the closest roof and run off the way he came invades him, but he reins it in. Duty, he reminds himself. Okina is now right by him and he sounds as pleased as he looks while he looks him over carefully.

"Boy... Is that really you? Of course it is!"

He mumbles an affirmation, followed by a greeting, and the old man gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder, puts his hand on his back and guides him in the direction of the inn's door while smiling. He stumbles a bit, and Okina pats him again, tells him to be careful.

"Come on in, come on in. Why were you standing there in the middle of the street, acting like a creep? Gave me a scare, you can't look at an old spy like that, you should know that. Old foxes like me, we are paranoid. Almost didn't recognize you looking like that, thought you were someone looking for trouble… I was ready to kick your ass."

Okina says this with a laugh. He seems as energetic as ever, white hair or not. They are at the entrance of the Aoiya now and he stops. Okina goes in, apparently not noticing his hesitancy, yelling at the people inside while he lingers behind, unable to take the last few steps.

"Guys! Look what the cat dragged in! You won't believe it!"

Then, Okina says, directed at him:

"Misao isn't home, but she should be back soon, within this week. I hope you will stay long enough to say hi to her... She is actually out looking for you guys, you know?" This last part is said in a reproachful tone, and he feels more than a little guilty. She's actually looking for you guys. You guys. But it's just him, now, and they don't know yet after all. He was hoping... His mouth is all of a sudden too dry to swallow.

The old man stares at him. He can't bring himself to step in. Stands there under the bright sun, hovering just outside the doorway, looking at his feet and feeling the old man's eyes on him, intense and searching. Okina frowns slightly from inside the inn.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You look so serious. Are you here on a business matter?" Okina waves a hand at him, exasperated. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait 'till you are inside with a cup of tea in your hands. Come in, come in, now. You can tell me about the others while we are at it, too, Hannya. Maybe drop the book-seller costume. It's giving me the creeps, now. You still have your mask?" He laughs and turns around, motions for him to follow.

Hannya takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and steps inside, into the cool shade of the restaurant.


Hi! This was kind of. A best case scenario short thing about the idea of a slighlty different outcome to the Kanryuu thing. I say best case scenario in this situation because im not 100% sure Hannya wouldn't have gone for a slighlty less messed up but stiill distressingly dumb quest that Aoshi did lmao. Like I said this is pretty self-indulgent: I happen to really, really like Hannya. Also you can tell I tried for a twist here. I tried, and therefore no-one can criticize me, l m a o.

What's with that title you ask? Honeydew I just dunno. The working title for this was "just go into the restaurant goddammit" so.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this brainfart.