Chapter Twenty Eight: Manjushage

The day of Souja's funeral dawned grey and overcast, a thick layer of mourning cloud woven across the bright rays of the Seireitei sun as the mourners gathered to pay their last respects to a young man cut down in the prime of his life. They were many. Every Captain and Vice Captain of the Gotei had travelled to Seventh District's central manor for the ceremony, along with the entirety of the Seventh Division, their shihakushouneat and properly pressed, the obi at their waists not the usual white of their daily uniform but the dark red of the Endou Clan as a mark of respect for their deputy's passing. Though the urgency of the situation and the potential threat Souja's death had opened up against the Gotei were fresh on everyone's minds, there was nonetheless a sense of mutual grief and respect for an adjutant who, with his inoffensive courtesy and reasoned temperament, had been well respected by all he had met. Many had looked to him to continue the peaceful policies Hirata and his father had extended across the once war-torn region and now, with the body laid out in state before them, the hopes of not only one Clan but Seireitei as a whole seemed to be fragile, capable of crumbling into dust.

White was the colour of the dead, therefore Endou Clan custom forbade the wearing of it by any other at a Clan funeral, and as a result, no Captain had worn their haori to the proceedings, casting a muted tone over the gathering. Each Clan Captain had additionally chosen to wear an obi in subdued Clan colours in order to respect the Seventh District custom. Souja alone was robed in snow white, his injured body having been carefully and tenderly washed and dressed in expensive mulberry-silk weave cloth that was wrapped tightly around his damaged torso with a wide sash of deepest ruby. His thick dark hair had been brushed and pulled over his shoulder in a casual tail, fastened by a silver clasp engraved with the Clan emblem of the bird of prey surveying his domain. At a glance, his expression was one of serenity, as though reposed in sleep, but the unnatural ashenness of his skin gave away the fact that the lips, though parted, drew no breath, and that the spirit, once vibrant and full of promise had long since begun to scatter into the crisp District Seven ether. At his side lay his sword, sheathed in its ebony-carved scabbard to conceal the fragmenting blade that lay within, an identical wrap of ruby cloth swathing the hilt as though to indicate the passing of two noble spirits, not just the one. Souja had been a brave shinigami, a resolute fighter and a diligent swordsman - and Hirata had decreed that he would leave the world as such, with dignity and pride as a son of the Endou Clan.

He was reposed on a square board of polished wood, smooth and carefully carved for the occasion with a frame of bamboo slats supporting a thin mesh canopy to protect the corpse in the event of inclement weather. Beneath, tightly packed wadges of straw and wood formed the basis of the funeral pyre. Hirata had chosen to have his son cremated, ostensibly on account of the severe injury the boy had sustained against his untraced assailant, and, on consultation with the family, they too had agreed. Though nobody had voiced it, all had been painfully aware of the other reasons for Hirata's choice - although the Endou and Urahara shared distant blood, the Urahara Clan disdained cremation, and by choosing to put his only son's body to the flame, Hirata was making clear his desire to separate his family from the shackles of that biological connection. It was not Nagesu nor the people of Third District who had inspired this bitter decision, as all present knew, but the recognition of his sister's betrayal and of Keitarou's true heritage that had made him decide to revert to the traditional funerary rites of his own Clan instead of the usual compromise of ritual which had dominated the previous few generations. Souja would not be hidden in a coffin, nor bound in stone beneath the earth in the vaults of the Endou ancestors, but rather would be cast into the atmosphere as a spirit of smoke.

Now, for the first time since a generation before Shouichi had wrought havoc through the District and slaughtered his way to power, a solemn line of Clansfolk filed towards the pyre to offer prayers and lay flowers around the silent corpse. At the head of the procession was Hirata himself, who paused for a moment with distant, heavy eyes as he regarded his son's still features, reaching out a gloved hand towards his cheek before stopping, and pulling back. There was a moment of complete silence, as he gathered his emotions, then, very gently he reached down to place the single iris bloom against Souja's chalk-white sword hand. The bloom was a deep reddish purple, the hana-shoubu whose silhouette adorned the adjutant's badge that lay in state at Souja's feet, and the meaning of Hirata's gesture was not lost on any of those gathered. The flower was the traditional blossom of the Endou, its delicate petals the determined reddish hue that typified the warrior family, as well as being a symbol of Souja's position as adjutant of the Gotei squad. More than this, though, it was the name of the flower, the 'shoubu', which was engraved most deeply into the minds of the congregation. It was a challenge, a cry of war in a time of grief, a resolution that, no matter what the cost, Hirata intended to avenge his son's death.

He pressed his hands together, closing his eyes for a moment, then turned away from the pyre, his expression calm and settled, but his pale eyes glittering with something few had seen there before. A chill wind whipped around the grounds, causing more than one member of Seventh to shiver and wrap their arms more tightly around their bodies as they cast hesitant, anxious looks in the direction of their Captain. Though he seemed calm, he it was a dangerous kind of calm, and those who had worked with him for a long period of time knew that he was only just keeping the predator under wraps. The hawk wanted vengeance, and only the need for proprietry held it in check.

From the heart of the cluster of Seventh Division members, Tenichi watched his Captain's actions in numb, detached silence. The sight of Souja's body, so serene and still atop the pyre had awakened both panic and remorse in his heart, reviving the memory of Masaya's warning words and then, that frantic moment when he had heard Kikyue's yell of grief and knew that his Vice Captain lay dead. Shunsui had sent him to report to Thirteenth, believing that he was in shock from the tragedy, but it ran deeper than that inside of him and, although he had tried to push it away and focus on his duty, it kept returning, eating away at him piece by peace until it disrupted his dreams and tortured his waking moments. More than anything he had not wanted to come to the funeral, but more than anyone he knew he could not avoid it. It was his fault, he kept reminding himself darkly. He hadn't chosen it to happen, nor had he ordered it, but he was responsible for it all the same. He had allowed himself to be snared by Masaya, taken to Keitarou, and then he had lied. Souja had asked him for the truth and he had not given it, and because of that...because of his deceit...

He shook his head as if to clear it, afraid his emotions would spill over once again. Souja's mother now stood at her son's side, a dark veil covering her face and concealing from view the tears that Tenichi felt certain were flowing copiously down the elegant, gentle woman's cheeks. Ai was a hime, not a soldier, and unused to the brutality of conflict so close to her door. Her hands shook as she laid her bundle of flowers beside Souja's head, then, very slowly, she bent down towards him, pushing back her veil just the slightest bit to brush her lips briefly against Souja's brow. At this heartfelt farewell from mother to child, Tenichi's heart spasmed with genuine grief, remembering his own mother's death and the night that Keitarou had called for them, bringing medicine and memories of a time long since left behind. He had not realised then, he told himself bitterly, that Keitarou's appearance would eventually bring him to this point.

As Ai turned from the pyre, she stumbled slightly as though her emotions had overwhelmed her, and Hirata took her arm gently, leading her away from the scene in solemn silence. Kikyue was next, dressed, unlike her mother, in the muted robes of a shinigami on duty, with only her Clan pendant about her throat to show her true connection to the dead man. Her eyes were red and her cheeks pale, but there was an angry defiance in her aura that had seemed lacking since the day of her brother's death, and as she reached Souja's side, she touched his free hand, taking his fingers in hers and squeezing them hard. Her lips moved, and though Tenichi could not hear what she was saying, he felt sure that she too was affirming her father's declaration and assuring her brother that they would find and destroy the people responsible.

Misashi was the next to pay his respects, leading the youngest member of Hirata's family by the hand as he gently guided her forwards. Sayuri was eight years old, Tenichi remembered with a stab of anguish, a very young, innocent eight, yet she too was robed in the mourning colours of her family, her dark hair properly fastened and her Clan pendant glittering around her neck. From there, though, the illusion of a Clan himewas shattered, for there was no concealing the grief in the young girl's eyes as she hurried forward, tears streaming down already stained cheeks.

"Oniisama," she sobbed, her words soft but loud enough for the crowd at large to hear them. "Oniisama, don't go! Don't leave Sayuri behind!"

From the side, there was a choked sob from Ai's direction at her daughter's plaintive words, and Kikyue grabbed her mother's other arm as if to give her reassurance.

Sayuri had reached the pyre by now, her petite form just tall enough to be able to see over the top, and as she stretched out small hands to lay her precious burden of crimson flowers at her brother's side, Misashi caught up with her, crouching at her side and putting his hand on her shoulder.

"It's time to say goodbye to Oniisama," he said quietly, his tones grave. "Say goodbye, Sayuri-chan...Souja will be sad, otherwise, if you don't say it properly."

Sayuri gulped, a fresh storm of tears in her pale bluish eyes, but at Misashi's urging she nodded bravely, standing up on tiptoes and, in imitation of her mother, planting a kiss on her brother's cheek.

"Sayuri will be good, Oniisama," she murmured, her tones uneven and punctuated by catches in her breathing. "Sayuri will be good, so don't worry. Sayuri will help Hahaue and Chichiue, I promise. Please go to a good place, Oniisama. Sl...sleep peacefully."

"Good girl," Tenichi heard Misashi murmur, and the older man rested a hand briefly on Souja's shoulder before turning to lead the little girl away. Tenichi closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he tried to erase the image from his thoughts. More than one of his companions were also biting back tears - to his left, Nakata had an expensive silk hankerchief in his hand and was unashamedly mopping at his eyes. Sneaking a sidelong glance at his roommate, Tenichi envied the older man's ability to let his emotions flow. If he released the floodgates on his, he knew that there would be no reeling it back in...and beneath his grief and his horror at what had happened, he could not escape that stifling, overwhelming sense of fear.

If I told someone, what would happen to me? If I did, what would happen to Ketsui? I can't. I can't say anything. Souja-dono is dead. He can't tell anyone anything, either, if he even knew.

He swallowed hard, troubled by the brief flicker of relief that stirred in his heart.

I'm not glad he's dead. I'm not! I didn't want this! I'm not his enemy, not the Taichou's, not anyone's. I didn't promise to become Keitarou-san's ally, nor did I agree to any of this! I only wanted to help the people in the Districts...I'm not happy he's dead and I'm not going to be relieved about it!

"Kotetsu, you all right?" Nakata murmured at this juncture, nudging his companion, and Tenichi started, staring at his roommate for a moment before hurriedly gathering his wits.

"As all right as anyone can be, given the circumstance," he murmured, and Nakata nodded sombrely.

"We'll get him, though," he replied frankly. "We'll get him, cut him down and make him wish he'd never crossed the Seventh. Mark my words, we will...nobody is going to get away with doing this to the Endou or to Seventh Division."

Tenichi didn't answer, his heart spasming once more as he found he had to look away. The Captains were now paying their respects, he realised with a jolt, led by Nagesu, as current Leader of the Council, with Juushirou bringing up the rear. Even he had chosen to obey the traditions of the Endou Clan, despite his District status, for his obiwas a dull cobalt grey instead of its usual pristine white. His thin, pale features appeared worn and preoccupied, and Tenichi pressed his lips together, remembering that his former Captain had a long association with the Endou and had known Souja from infancy.

"Cremation is unusual," he managed at last, realising that Nakata was expecting him to make some kind of response. "I didn't think that happened in Seventh - I thought, because of their Urahara connections..."

"The one behind this is a damned Urahara, so like Hell would the Captain pander to those traditions," Nakata muttered, and Tenichi flinched at the venom in his companion's voice. "Ah, no offence to Nagesu-sama and his kind, of course, but as insults go, enough is enough. Besides, this is the true Endou way of seeing off a dead spirit. You've heard the stories, I s'pose? Being in Seventh, I guess you must've."

"Stories?" Tenichi was jerked momentarily from his reverie, gazing at his friend in confusion, and Nakata sighed, shaking his head.

"Endou are a rough bunch. You know that bit for sure," he said matter-of-factly. "In times past, there were lots of murders and struggles over power. It was tradition then, y'see, to cremate the spirit and send the ashes into the ether as smoke. Well, that was the spirit of the person, you see...leaving this plane and going to hunt down their enemies from the next. Instead of casing them in stone, which the Urahara brought to this District, they'd be set free to roam and bring down their foes."

"Hunt...down...?" Tenichi visibly blanched, and Nakata nodded.

"That's what they say," he agreed, apparently oblivious to his roommate's sudden change of colour. "The flowers, too. A shoubu is a challenge, right? A contest, win or lose, a battle to the death if need be. That's why the hana-shoubu belongs to our squad, but it's the Endou's flower first and foremost. And the spider lilies, the manjushage that everyone else is laying down, that's another thing. In Endou tradition, the manjushagehas special powers to waken the spirit of the dead and send him out looking for vengeance. It's because it's the colour of blood...legend has it that Endou dead don't rest till every one of their enemies lies in his grave."

Tenichi swallowed hard, turning to glance back at the funeral pyre with new eyes. Though he was not normally given to superstition, suddenly the masses of red-blossomed spider lily flowers made him uneasy, surrounding Souja's body like a protective aura of blood-red blooms. Did they really have the power to stir Souja from his sleep and send him hunting for vengeance? Could he know from beyond the grave..?

"None of that stuff is true, Nakata, it's just legends," the division's Fifth seat put austerely in before Tenichi's mind could run away with itself. "Living people are the ones who hunt down enemies, not the dead."

"Well, maybe so," Nakata acknowledged, "but I'm just filling Kotetsu in on the cultural history. Figured he ought to know, since we'll be up soon to lay our flowers and pay our respects to the Fuku."

"We...will?" Tenichi looked uncertain, and Nakata nodded.

"S'why we're here and in uniform like this," he responded simply. "You're white as a sheet, you know - pull yourself together a little, huh? He was a fine man and we're all going to miss him - but it's down to us, now, to take up where he left off. If the Fuku's ghost isn't going to haunt his enemies to death, well, we've gotta do it for him. We're his agents of justice, if you like...our duty to him is to avenge him, no matter what."

"You can't honestly believe that you'll settle Kotetsu's nerves that way," the Fifth seat snorted. "He's not an Endou, Nakata, he can't be expected to understand how our Clan works."

Tenichi bit his lip, remembering Masaya's clinical words about Souja once more.

"I think maybe I do," he murmured. "To be his vengeance...is now our job?"

"Of course," Nakata agreed solemnly. "He was our Fuku. He won't rest easy till the one who killed him is sleeping just as soundly."

"Seventh, pipe down and get into formation," The hissed words of the division's Fourth Seat prevented Tenichi from responding, casting them all a meaningful glare. "Remember where you are. We're up next, and Taichou's said anyone who disgraces the squad here today will answer to his sword for it after the ceremony, so let's do things right."


The flames licked high up into the sky, bending and dancing and making the air warp and haze with the heat and smoke of the inferno.

From his hidden location, far from the crowd of sombrely dressed shinigami and Clansfolk, a solitary figure watched the fire burn, his fists clenched tightly beneath the dark folds of the heavy cloak that concealed him. Deep beneath the cowled hood, two silver eyes glittered with the tell-tale sign of tears as he witnessed the Endou Clan Leader's sole son and heir being returned to the ether.

Everything he had tried to prevent...and yet it had ended like this.

The tears trickled down Joumei's ash-white cheeks, but they were tears of anger and frustration as much as they were grief, a swirl of uncharacteristic emotions filling his usually calm, composed heart. Death did not normally shake him - it was a normal, accepted part of life that the Kitsune had embraced in order to live in freedom, but then, this time was different. This was not a Kitsune being returned to the earth, but another, a man whose death Joumei had not been ready for, and therefore one which had hurt him twice as much. It was as though the flames of Souja's funeral pyre had set light to his own pride and spirit, for deep inside of him he felt a genuine swell of indignation that one he considered a friend had been so ill abused.

Keitarou.

His eyes narrowed to argent slits, hate filling his mind at the thought of the Kitsune's nemesis.

You did this, I know you did. Somehow, for some reason of your own, you took Souja-dono from us and from Hirata-sama. It won't be forgiven, or forgotten.

He leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree, watching the dance of smoke mingling among the clouds, and his gaze hardened.

A very Endou funeral, and unlike anything our Clan would ever sanction, but in this instance, it seems appropriate. To think you were the one who once told me about your family's customs, Souja-dono, and the sending of the vengeful spirit into smoke to track down and slay their foes. Well, I'm a scientist and I don't believe in supernatural vengeance, but the message is loud and clear to me all the same. I was supposed to die before you, not mourn your passing - and I won't let Keitarou get away with stealing your life from you.

He glanced at his hands, the faint sheen of Sekkisekidust coating the whiteish skin and helping, he knew, to damp his presence from the gathered shinigami.

"The time for hiding in silence is obviously at an end," he murmured, tilting his palm so that the dim light of the overcast day caught the shards of stone, making them glitter ominously. "You wanted to flush us out, Keitarou, and I'll grant you your wish. Souja-dono's death is a grudge I intend to take up personally - and one I won't lay to rest until your life is also forfeit. I'll accept the message in that smoke and become my friend's vengeance instead. We'll find you, we'll track you down, steal what's precious from you...and maybe then I'll let the Endou burn what's left; let them desecrate your body in the same way your people desecrated Souja-dono's."

He pulled the cloak more tightly around his body, slipping into a cautious shunpo as he drew nearer the gathered congregation. Surrounding his body with Sekkiseki-enhanced kyokkou, he was all but invisible to them, and for a moment his gaze rested on the fair-haired leader of the Urahara Clan, reminding himself darkly that to reveal himself in front of his family's long time enemies would do nothing towards furthering his cause. As he contemplated his next move, however, his gaze fell on a thin figure to the side of the shinigami Captains, his lank white hair tied with a dark ribbon in a loose tail down his back.

He pursed his lips, a faint memory surfacing in his thoughts.

Ukitake Juushirou, surely? Well well. Perhaps there is a recourse for the Kitsune after all.

He stepped back, preparing to drop once more into shunpo, the flickering, dancing light of the flame burning itself into his thoughts.

We will get even, Souja-dono. You have my word. Your fight might have ended, my friend, but ours...ours begins from here.


"The mood here today is oppressively sombre."

Kirio pushed open the door of the small, plainly furnished bed-chamber, a spare blanket draped over her shoulder and a vessel of water clutched in her other hand. As she did so, from across the far side of the room Mitsuki raised her gaze from her patient, placing her hand gently against his ribcage as she monitored the beating of his heart.

"It's to be expected," she murmured, gesturing for Kirio to put the water down behind the door and come to join her. "Thank you for doing that, Hikifune-san. I realise Thirteenth's numbers are depleted today, with it being Souja-dono's funeral...you probably have many other things to do besides helping me."

"Taichou told me before he left this morning that I was to do what I could and make our unexpected visitor my top priority," Kirio shook her head, nonetheless doing as she was bidden, taking the blanket in both hands and folding it in half before draping it over the patient's legs. "I don't know if he's worried about the boy's safety, or if it's just that he wants to ensure we're taking good care of him, but either way, that's what I was told to do and I intend to do it regardless."

"I see," Mitsuki's gaze softened and she sat back, reaching for a vial of ointment that stood on the small shelf beside the bed. "Can you pass me some of that gauze please? I'm going to re-dress the wound now, and I can't quite reach it from here."

"With pleasure," Kirio picked up the roll of gauze, passing it across. "And I know that there's every reason for gravity, when a Vice Captain just got killed. It's just...I didn't know Souja-dono very well, so I think the shock for me was that someone could cut down an officer like that and do it in such a brutal way. This morning, though, seeing Taichou and Fukutaichou readying themselves to leave to pay their respects at the ceremony, it hit home. Souja-dono was someone's son as well as just an adjutant. It has wide reaching complications in a political sense, but also in other ones, too. Taichou's not said much about it to me, but I can tell he's upset about it and not from a Gotei point of view. It's had an effect on lots of people...out of the blue like that, someone so young being slain..."

"Too young," Mitsuki agreed, tearing a strip of gauze from the roll and folding it, dipping it in the ointment before applying it to the wound. "He wasn't yet born when I left for Rukongai, so he can't have been much older than his early twenties at most. It's not even a life, and you're right. When someone young dies like that, it's somehow twice as shocking as if it were someone old and battle-scarred."

She frowned, and Kirio bit her lip.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of the Spiritless Zone."

"You didn't," Mitsuki managed a brief smile, shaking her head. "Death lives with us all, though, and that's a fact of our existences. We're shinigami. Death Gods. We deal with death all the time. Because of that, perhaps we imagine ourselves inured to it, or somehow immune. We're not, though. We're trained to be strong, but really we all have weak points. You're right, it's a sober atmosphere. If not for taking care of Koku, I might have gone to the funeral myself. Even though I didn't know Souja, I know his family and I would have paid my respects. Right now, though, this is my priority...as a healer, this is all I can do."

"Koku?"

Kirio glanced at her companion in surprise, who nodded her head, setting the vial down beside the window and wiping her hands on the towel that lay nearby.

"J...Ukitake-taichou said that Souja-dono called him by that name before he died," she confirmed, a sad look in her soft grey eyes. "He was very insistant, and kept repeating over and over again how this 'Koku' had come to help him and that we shouldn't treat him like an enemy. I don't know any more details about what he might have told his father or his sister, but from my perspective, this is my patient and his recovery has to come before anything else in my mind."

She offered Kirio a tired smile.

"You've been a really helpful assistant, Hikifune-san. Thank you."

"Taichou and Fukutaichou both told me to report to them if and when he wakes up," Kirio shrugged. "He's an important witness, now, and the only one we have, so it's part of my duty to be here as well. Because I was there at the scene and I know the circumstances, I've been here from the start, too - I'd sort of like to be here when he wakes. I feel that we've a lot to make up to him for, especially if we're going to win his trust - I want to show him that shinigami aren't the bad guys, and that he wasn't wrong to try to help one."

"Mm," Mitsuki looked troubled. "Kikyue-dono's reaction was entirely understandable, but unfortunate. Still, you're right...and this is probably the right place to do it."

She cast her companion a faint smile.

"I think you know that I went to school with your Captain, Vice Captain and Third Seat," she added. "I know the kind of people they are and, even in the short time I've been back in Seireitei, I've come to realise that Thirteenth is a very friendly division. With so many people here who understand the Districts, I think that if this patient of mine is going to be convinced to open up to anyone, it will be people in this division. The gaps are not so wide...and it gives me something to do too, now, instead of just being useless."

She patted her waist pensively.

"Yuuyugo isn't at the stage yet where I could release her and not take harm from it," she admitted regretfully, "but in this case, Kikyue-dono's aim was fortunate and I was able to mend the wound without using spiritual techniques. He's recovering and I'm happy with his progress - he'll make a full recovery, and I don't think it'll be long before he'll start to stir."

She collected up the remains of the linctus and the used towels, folding them over her arm.

"I'll go rid myself of these," she added. "I'll come back and check on him later - I trust someone will come relieve you of sentry duty so you can have a break and some food later on?"

"Tsunemori-san said he would," Kirio nodded. "I'll be fine, Edogawa-san - thank you."

She grinned, though her eyes were sad.

"I've learned a little bit about healing from you these last few days," she added, "and it takes my mind off the fact that Tenichi won't answer my messages or see me."

"Kotetsu...Tenichi?" Mitsuki frowned, as if trying to place the name, and Kirio nodded.

"Yes. He came here the night Souja-dono died to report to Fukutaichou, but he was really shaken up with grief and saying all kinds of crazy things about being to blame. Since then I haven't seen him. I imagine Seventh is pretty busy - but he hasn't come here, and I don't understand why he wouldn't even send a reply to tell me he's buried under a pile of work."

"Juushirou told me about him," Mitsuki pondered, forgetting her usual attention to formality as she considered the point. "He said the same thing - that this Tenichi was very disturbed by Souja-dono's death. In fact, Kyouraku-kun apparently asked Tenichi to report here to get him away from Seventh and give him some space - apparently he was quite worried too by the way in which this officer reacted."

"Grief is a funny thing," Kirio said soberly. "Edogawa-san, you and Taichou know each other well, don't you?"

"Mm?" Mitsuki's cheeks pinkened slightly, and Kirio's eyes became wide as she interpreted the expression of sheepish guilt that crossed her companion's fair features.

"I'm sorry...did I ask a bad question?"

"No...no," Mitsuki shook her head with a wry smile. "I slipped, didn't I, and called him by his given name? At school, that was how it was - I have to remember though that now we're not classmates but shinigami and he's a Captain to whom I need to show respect, especially in front of his subordinates. I'm sorry, Hikifune-san. I didn't mean any informality."

"I don't mind," Kirio shook her head. "I just...I think that, maybe, if you were close friends at school, you'd understand why I'm so worried about Tenichi as I am. He's always been one of my best friends, maybe like my brother in a strange kind of way...he's never been like this with me before. His brother, too. He's not spoken to Ketsui, either. I'm really worried about how this has affected him - and what I can do about it. I'm afraid of what he might do - I never thought I'd say it of him, but I'm worried he might do something...rash."

"Like try to avenge the murder himself?" Mitsuki questioned. Kirio nodded.

"He blames himself, and that would be the easiest way to assuage blame," she agreed heavily. "Tenichi's committed and takes duty seriously, even if he can be flippant and frivolous when there's time for that. I don't know...but he scared me, acting like that. It was like I was seeing a stranger...a stranger haunted by his Vice Captain's ghost."

"Death does change people, especially seeing it like that at close quarters," Mitsuki reflected. "I'll mention your concerns, though, to my Captain when I go there to report on my patient later today. If he's emotionally traumatised or exhausted from the effects of the ordeal, she'll find a way to settle it. And am I right that he was the young man abducted not long before I returned here? It may simply be that the stress of both incidents so close together have proven too much for him to handle on his own. It's no reflection on his ability, if that's the case - but it's usually the shinigami most in control who suffer the deepest mental injuries. They don't ask for help soon enough, you see - and this might be one of those cases."

"Thank you," Kirio was relieved. "I appreciate it. I know you've had a lot of your own troubles to deal with, Edogawa-san - it's kind of you to help us with so many of ours, too."

"On the contrary, this makes me feel useful," Mitsuki patted the vial with a rueful smile. "It's better, when there's something to do and you can do it. Until my healing abilities are recovered, I'm no use in any other capacity - so I'm grateful that I have something to occupy me while that happens. The Spiritless Zone wasn't a nice experience - but so long as I'm on my feet and involved with living people, it's easier to make my peace with the memories of the dead."

She inclined her head slightly, then withdrew from the room, sliding the door shut softly behind her.

"So your name is Koku, huh?" Kirio glanced over towards the sleeping patient, moving to draw the clean white blanket up over his body once more. "I guess it's nice to know who we've been looking after these past few days. Maybe it'll help us find your family, if we have a name to put about. Nobody's managed to work out where that Senkaimon opened from or even how to reactivate it, and everything we look into seems to be a dead end. You're all we have in the equation, Koku-kun - if we help you find your family, will you forgive us for mistaking your motives and help us find the killer of our officer?"


So, it was over.

Hirata stood before the charcoal remains of the pyre, watching the faint wisps of smoke that still drifted upwards towards the sky. It had been a fierce flame, he remembered absently, cast with his own Kidou and, with the help of the breeze it had spread evenly, engulfing the body in a ball of orange and red that reminded the Captain of the blood that had soaked his son's uniform the day he had been brought back.

Now, he reflected bitterly, he could do nothing but accept that Souja was gone. The son which he had raised with such pride and affection would never again come to his office late at night to discuss squad matters, nor act as such a reliable right-hand man in so many tricky Gotei tasks. The number of individuals present at the ceremony had been an overwhelming indication of how much Seireitei would have accepted and welcomed Souja's incumbency of the Clan in the future, but for Hirata, the future of his dynasty was the last concern on his mind. For him, the fire had consumed the last remenants of a child he had loved, and, as a father, the grief was almost beyond bearing. He had suffered sacrifices and faced death head on many times in the past, but this blow had been a personal one.

Many of the mourners had been solicitous in their greetings to him that morning. Guren had paused for a moment in particular to express his deep regret, and though the Kuchiki's words had rent fresh tears through Hirata's pain, he had not been able to rebuff consolation offered with such grave sincerity. Guren had been in the same position, and for the first time Hirata had felt a connection of sorts to his austere neighbour - but it was a connection he did not want.

Souja...

He raised his gaze up to the sky, watching the last drifting haze of grey dispersing in the air. When it cooled, what remained of the ashes would be scattered around the gardens of the Endou mausoleum, and, in keeping with family tradition, it would be done after dark. For now, though, he had time to think, and it was that time he feared most of all.

"Hirata..?"

The voice was soft-spoken and gentle, but at the sound of it the Endou Clan leader visibly started, swinging around to see Juushirou standing a short distance away. He was alone, his dark robes and equally muted obi in stark contrast to the white of his hair and the sallow colour of his skin, yet it was the expression in the older man's eyes that made Hirata's heart clench in his chest.

"Juushirou..." he managed, and the Thirteenth Division Captain frowned, crossing the grass quickly between them and standing at his side, gazing at the pyre with thoughtful, sober eyes. He did not speak at first, and Hirata found he was glad of his friend's understanding. For a few minutes they just stood there in silence, each one deep in thought. Then, at length, Hirata broke the quiet.

"I suppose that, as an Endou, this is what I should expect."

The words were soft, yet full of pain, and Juushirou's dark brows knitted together as he slowly shook his head.

"No father should expect this," he said gravely. "More, Hirata, no father should accept it. Souja was murdered, and that murderer must be brought to justice. You don't have to stand and endure it. This isn't a burden you ought to bear, and you needn't bear it alone."

"Juushirou?" Hirata cast his companion a wary glance, and Juushirou sighed, resting a hand on his friend's thin shoulder.

"Today, as Clan Leader, you held your thoughts and feelings in check, but we still felt the Wind Hawk, screaming to get free," he observed. "For the sake of Ai-dono and Kikyue and Sayuri, you held your calm. You were composed, as a Leader must be, but there's nobody here now that you need to be strong for. Souja was your son and you loved him. Probably more than anyone else, if the truth be told. You can't simply take it as a burden of leadership and pretend it doesn't mean anything more. We know it does...and it will do you harm if you don't acknowledge that."

"As you said, I'm a Clan leader. A Captain, too," Hirata bent to touch the charcoal, allowing the fine black dust to disintegrate in his hands. "If I fall apart, who else is there to hold together the pieces?"

Juushirou pressed his lips together thoughtfully for a moment, then he shook his head.

"Shunsui and I are here," he said quietly. "Ryuu, Enishi and Kai, too. People who care for you, and people you can trust. We know the Endou, and we understand everything that you've faced better than most of your squad do. This is another unforgivable blow caused by an unforgivable enemy, and that enemy must be found and taken down - but in the meantime, it's you that we're worried about the most. Clan aside, Division aside, you're a father and your son has been taken from you. You have to let yourself face that too, Hirata - else you'll never be able to move forward."

"Forward?" Hirata let out a humourless snort. "How can I move forward? My son and heir is dead. I don't have another, and even if I did, Souja isn't someone I can replace. He was my only son, the one I trusted with everything. And, worst of all, if he was right...if this connects to Eiraki...how much more will they take from me, Juushirou? How much more will I be punished for lacking resolve that time in the forest? How many times will I regret not slicing through Keitarou's throat when he lay there helpless before me...not vapourising him with my sword's spirit? How much higher is the cost going to be?"

His words caught in his throat, trembling with emotion, and to his frustration and dismay, his vision began to blur as his eyes filled with the tears that he had so far suppressed.

"I can't move forward," he whispered. "You don't understand, Juushirou, because you're not a father and you haven't lost a child. You can't understand...no matter how much you try. Souja was everything to me...and now..."

He broke off, too choked to continue, and Juushirou reached across to put a reassuring arm around the younger man's shoulders.

"I understand that a good friend of mine is in pain," he said gently. "That's as much as I need. Nobody expects you to settle with this right away. On the contrary, you need to take time and space to deal with it in whatever way you can, and I know that, as an Endou, hunting down Keitarou and finding out the truth is as much a part of that process as sending your son into the next world as you did today. Souja was a fine young man. I will miss him too, and I won't forgive those who took his life. But he would be the first to tell you not to push folk away and try to cope on your own. Even as a Captain, even as a Clan Leader, you have friends who surpass those levels and will be there for you regardless."

Hirata swallowed hard, but there was no holding back the tears now, and he closed his eyes, allowing them to trickle soundlessly down his cheeks as his grief for his son engulfed his heart. Juushirou did not comment, allowing his friend's emotions to flow, and Hirata stumbled forward, kneeling down beside the remains of the pyre and resting his hands lightly against the charcoal remains of the wooden plinth.

"I thought that I had become immune to death, pain, things like that, when I raised and mastered Tsumi no Fuuhi," he murmured, more to himself than to his companion. "I thought that, as an Endou, I'd become inured to it. But it's not true, Juushirou. It's not. Seeing my son, bloody and dying...will live with me, haunt my thoughts and dreams for a long time to come. The pain of it...I can't even describe. It makes me sick to my stomach, angry yet unable to focus that anger...if I let these feelings free, I'm truly afraid of myself and what I might do. I want Keitarou, I want him dead...but even that won't sate this hunger. I want my son back, Juushirou, and it's the one thing that my sword, my haori, even my Clan Leadership can't bring about!"

"No, Souja can't be brought back," Juushirou carefully knelt down at his friend's side, patting him gently on the back, "and I won't insult your feelings by making glib statements, but I will say this at least. Now, it hurts. Now it feels as though the pain won't ever go. I'm not a father, but as a son, I've lost a parent - a parent to whom I never got to say a full goodbye. Father died whilst I was ill with fever, and I never...there were many things I didn't get to say to him. Souja...at the very least...he came home. He came home, and you could say goodbye. Now, it means nothing - but as time passes, that will help. Souja...Souja knew he was going to die. It was in his eyes, in his words - he knew. Even knowing that, he exhausted the last of his strength to come back and speak to the person who mattered to him the most. He wanted your forgiveness for his actions, and to tell you what he had learned. Those things done, he was at peace. Because he was at peace, he let go and stopped fighting. He's passed the baton over to you, and you will fight for his sake, I know that. What Souja went through in that last fight, only he knows - but what mattered the most to him was coming home to speak to his father."

Hirata nodded slowly, reaching up to remove his glasses as he wiped away the still falling tears.

"I'm not the child I was when we first met, or became friends," he whispered softly, "but even though that's true, I feel...like...I've become him again. I'm afraid of myself, my family, what the path ahead might be. I'm unsettled and shaken...and once again, you're here to put the pieces back together and reassure me. It can't heal me yet, Juushirou, but I...I am grateful. I know you came here specifically for my sake, and that at least is a comfort. Before my wife and my daughters, I have to be strong. Before the Clan, I have to be resolute. But you're right. Before you, before Shunsui, it's different."

"That's what friends are for, and it's why we're here," Juushirou said gravely. "We mourn Souja-kun too. We want justice for him too. We're with you and we'll do what we can to help."

"Mm," Hirata agreed, replacing his spectacles on his nose and getting unsteadily to his feet. "I should return to my family - they will be wondering where I am, and I didn't mean to linger here as long as this. Before I do, though, what of the boy? The boy that came back with Souja - what of his condition - has he yet awoken?"

"Not yet, but Mitsuki and one of my officers are watching over him carefully," Juushirou replied. "He's not in a position yet to question, but when he is, we will talk to him."

"I would like to speak to him myself," Hirata reflected, but Juushirou shook his head.

"This Hirata is not someone I can unleash on an unsuspecting District boy whose only involvement in this is to have stumbled on your son in a bad situation," he chided. "He was already cut down in error by Kikyue - I don't want to terrify him even more and I don't think you could handle that conversation without letting the Wind Hawk rail free. No, we will take care of the boy ourselves, but you have my word that anything we learn will be reported to you as soon as possible."

"Souja wanted us to protect him," Hirata objected. "I wouldn't harm him."

"No, I know, but you don't realise how intimidating you can be when you're angry or upset," Juushirou said matter-of-factly. "This isn't something you can deal with rationally yet, maybe not ever...no matter how much you pretend to your kinsfolk, you can't fool Shunsui and you can't fool me. Trust us where this one is concerned and leave the boy to me. I've taken on Souja's promise for him, and I will make sure it is kept."

Hirata was silent for a moment, then he nodded.

"I trust you," he admitted. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps...you are right."

He sighed, stretching his arms over his head, then,

"I will go to rejoin my kin now," he added, "but thank you, Juushirou. My heart is a long way from being settled, but at least...I am not alone."

"Of course not," Juushirou agreed. "You're never that, either in the Gotei or outside of it. Keep that in mind, Hirata. If you need to talk, we are here and we will always find time to listen. All right?"

Hirata inclined his head slightly, a faint, tragic smile touching his lips.

"I will remember," he responded, "but for now...I have to ensure that the final preparations for my son's ashes to be scattered are put into place. To be busy helps take my mind from things, so I will see to this myself."

He bowed again, then turned his back on the still smouldering pyre, making his way slowly towards the main manor house. He did not want to face his kin again, but Juushirou's words had at least given him reassurance that he was not fighting this battle alone, and, as he stepped through the door, he heard Kikyue call his name.

"Otousama? Otousama, Hahaue is looking for you...she really looks quite unwell."

"Kikyue-chan..." Hirata paused to gather himself, meeting his daughter's gaze with as much composure as he could muster, then he nodded his head.

"I will come directly," he said evenly. "I'm sorry for taking so long...please, lead the way."


It had been a long day.

Urahara Nagesu, Head of the Urahara Clan and Captain of the Third Division stepped into his office with a heavy sigh, closing the door behind him with a click and running his hand gently over the sensor to activate the kidou lamp. Outside, the sun was setting, yet in his mind's eye he could still see the vivid colours of the dancing flames as the Endou Clan had committed their son and heir to the ether. It had not escaped the Urahara Clan leader's notice that Hirata had chosen to revert to Endou tradition, rather than following on with the Urahara custom of burial that they had adopted in more recent years, and something about this shift in trust had rankled against Nagesu's nerves.

It's not that I don't understand Hirata-dono's feelings.

He removed his spectacles, dropping them down onto his desk and moving to the window to fasten the shutters for the night.

I know that it isn't me that he's angry at, nor is it my family that he's sending a message out to. Or at least, not a member of my family I have any control over. I just felt it as a definite division between our two Clans that hasn't been there like this for a long time. Just when I thought relations had improved between us, too. I do dislike disquiet…I dislike murder and intrigue and this level of unrest.

He unlooped the shutter ties, pausing to glance out at the empty divisional courtyard before pulling the wooden slats closed and tying the cords in a firm knot.

Had I but killed you the last time we met, Kei-kun, none of this would have been allowed to happen. Had I had even one inch of Father's ruthlessness, I would have sliced you through – but I hesitated and you found a chance to escape. Where you are now, what you are planning…I don't know. I work hard, but my scientific knowledge cannot keep pace with yours and I know it all too well. It might have been my breakthrough that transformed purification of Hollow souls, but it was your science that grounded our Senkaimon technology, and your work that created the Hell Butterfly. All I can do is cling on to the scraps you leave me…it is an unenviable position when in the beginning you should have been the one here at my side.

He sank down behind his desk, burying his head in his hands.

How many more times are you going to shame my family, Keitarou? How many more times do you intend on punishing me and the rest of Seireitei for the death of your Father? Never mind that I loved Keitsune-jiisama too. Never mind that other families lost loved ones then, and have never once spoken in resentment towards me or my wife or children. Only you carry this burden and you'll continue to carry it till you die, I'm sure of that. But if the rumours leaking out of Seventh Division are true, and Souja-dono was killed by a child of yours, it means your hatred can continue even beyond your lifespan. The problem grows ever graver…and somehow, I must find a way to pull it all together.

"Taichou?"

There was a soft knock at the door, and Nagesu glanced up, reaching for his spectacles as he raised his voice to call the visitor in. The door slid back to reveal his eldest son and Vice Captain, Shiketsu, and at the sight of the gleaming badge about the young man's upper arm, he bit his lip, once again reminded of the silent, white-shrouded corpse atop the funeral pyre.

I still have my son and heir, whilst Hirata-dono is cast into deepest mourning. My family are guilty in this, yet he feels the burden of it. The world is not a fair one, and it gets darker by the day.

"Otousama, are you all right?" At the sight of his father's expression, Shiketsu dropped the squad formality, approaching the desk and pausing a short way away from it. "I knocked two or three times, but you didn't reply – I wondered if you hadn't come back yet."

"There was no reason to outstay my welcome at a place no Urahara is wanted or needed," Nagesu said quietly. "I am fine, Shiketsu – I'm sorry. It pains me, that's all, knowing that we can't escape this association. The Council haven't met yet, and nothing formal has been said, but there are rumours and they are enough. This is Keitarou's work, make no mistake."

Shiketsu's expression darkened, and he frowned.

"Souja-dono was investigating the disappearance of his officer," he remembered gravely. "Kotetsu Tenichi. He chaired our last meeting, and he discussed it in some detail. He was talking about increasing security in Inner Seireitei, stuff we could do as Vice Captains to try and prevent any further incidents taking place. It's difficult to comprehend what's happened to him…even though I was there and I saw him cremated just as surely as you did, I can't really believe it. He was not an ostentatious officer, but he made his mark. I think…it will be some time before I forget him."

"He was very young for the duties ascribed him," Nagesu murmured. "But youth isn't always a reason to prevent a promising shinigami's promotion. Even if he was the Endou heir, I believe that many people thought well of him. I had begun to hope…perhaps for a future in which there would be a truly peaceful Seventh District. Hirata-dono has made such forward steps, but he is still…there are still moments when the hunter raises its head. Souja-dono, by all accounts, was different."

"Do you think Endou-taichou will do something rash?" Shiketsu looked anxious. "He seemed very composed at the funeral earlier, but then, I could sense it from him. The Hawk everyone talks about, but nobody wants to see…and I wondered."

"Let us all hope not," Nagesu pulled an expressive face. "Between you and I, Shiketsu, that's the last thing the Council needs. We don't know where Keitarou is, or what his modus operandi is. We don't know if he wants to lure people to him or whether he has a plan to kill other Clan individuals. Seireitei has lost a Vice Captain. It can ill afford to lose a Captain so soon after, particularly in the same division. There are no obvious contenders to succeed him, now. Misashi-sama might take control of the family, but the Division requires a shinigami, and Kikyue-hime is far, far too inexperienced to take command."

"And Seventh must be an Endou," Shiketsu murmured, sinking down on a cushion before his father's desk and letting out a sigh. Nagesu nodded.

"There's no other choice for it, not as we are at the moment," he agreed. "I'm sorry, this really isn't a weight I should place on your shoulders after such a heavy day. I just wish it hadn't happened when I was Council incumbent – I can't help but wonder if it occurred on my watch on purpose. Maybe it's not just an attack on the Endou, but one on the Urahara as well."

"We've expected an attack from Keitarou for a long time," Shiketsu pointed out. "He's never targeted the Urahara head on, though, even if he has attacked elsewhere."

"The last time we met, he said he didn't hate me – even though he wanted to," Nagesu remembered. "Perhaps that's why – but then I said many things then about Keitsune-jiisama, things which upset him. We are even more strangers now than we were, and I decided once and for all after the death of Guren-sama's son that I would have no further leniency where he was concerned. If he shows himself to me, Shiketsu, I will…no, I must kill him. There is no other recourse for the Head of the Urahara to take."

His eyes narrowed.

"And if he should kill me, then the duty will fall to you," he added matter-of-factly. "I am not so arrogant to believe I can defeat a genius with a blade he has already seen."

"Keitarou hasn't seen your sword since you attained Bankai, sir," Shiketsu pointed out. "And he can't fight with swords, so they say. I think you would kill him…"

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"…but I will take the message to heart and be ready, should the duty fall to me," he added reluctantly. "Although the Urahara-ke can ill afford to lose its Captain at the present time. I see you do so many things, Father, and I've been to the Council with you more than once – but I don't think I'm remotely ready to step into your shoes. If Endou-taichou doesn't act rashly…promise me you don't intend to do anything like it, either?"

"I'm not rash, not usually," Nagesu admitted. "Even if I wanted to, I imagine I wouldn't manage. No, Shiketsu, you can rest assured that I will plod along methodically in my usual way, and make what I can of the circumstances as they present themselves to me. A little more impulsiveness wouldn't go amiss – but I'm a scientist and I'm a planner, and there's not much I can do about either one. It is difficult to know how to move when so much information is missing - even if that lapse leads to an unforgivable loss of life."

"Father…" Shiketsu frowned, his brow drawing together thoughtfully, then, "Are you thinking of Shougo-dono?"

"Shou…?" Nagesu started, staring at his son as if he'd grown another head. "What do you mean, Shougo-dono? Why would I…what brought that subject out all of a sudden?"

"I don't know," Shiketsu admitted. "Maybe just the funeral…everything that happened. It made me remember…and I wondered if you'd thought about it too. It was…the last time the Urahara were so heavily involved in something, and…"

"Shougo-dono died in the line of duty," Nagesu sighed, removing his glasses once more and rubbing his temples as he felt the starts of a migraine digging into his skull. "His death was unfortunate, and could probably have been prevented with better data provision, but even so I consider it far different from the circumstances in this particular case. Yes, it was a messy affair, and no, I hadn't forgotten…but to align Souja-dono's death with Shougo-dono…"

"Maybe there's nothing similar about them at all," Shiketsu sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "True enough that Shougo-dono was buried with all honour and respect, and Souja-dono's corpse was destroyed in the most savage of Endou heathen rituals when they cast it up into smoke like that. Souja-dono was murdered, whereas Shougo-dono was taken down by Hollows and I wasn't trying to say they were connected. I didn't mean the ceremonies were the same, either, or even that their deaths were all that similar. It's just…Shougo-dono died in the Rukon, that's all. And Souja-dono was attacked there, too – so I suppose it made me remember."

"I see," Nagesu stroked his chin pensively. "I suppose in that light, I understand. The Rukon isn't an area we enter very often. True, the Spiritless Zone project has changed the level of shinigami involvement over the divide, but that has fallen almost entirely to the Fourth Division and the majority of the work has been theirs. Now, since they pulled out, the Zone is devoid of supervision and Rukongai is once more something of a black hole. Perhaps it was a bad idea, withdrawing Eleventh and Twelfth from their duties outside of Seireitei – but then the Spiritless Zone was intended to try and counter that change, so that sacrifices like Shougo-dono's would not be repeated."

"Maybe Keitarou killed the healers in the Rukon to get us out. Or rather, to get Unohana-taichou's people out," Shiketsu said darkly, and Nagesu nodded his head.

"The possibility exists, but the evidence as yet is not clear," he said tiredly. "The Council meeting may reveal those details…I have already received word from Hirata-dono requesting that I summon Ukitake to give evidence in his absence, as he was present for Souja-dono's last testimony. Ukitake is a level-headed Captain and not given to embellishment, so I greatly hope he will be able to provide us with firm data we can work with. At present we have nothing – just a grieving family and a cloud of ash and smoke drifting over the Seventh."

He eyed his son keenly.

"I would rather you didn't mention Shougo-dono amongst your peers, or even, outside of this office," he added quietly. "To you, he was a name and a distant kinsman, but to others he was more than that. You understand that it would hurt to have those wounds reopened after so many years."

"I know," Shiketsu agreed. "I wasn't going to bring the topic up. The Council decided back when it happened that it was better left alone, because of the number of people it impacted on. Putting Eleventh and Twelfth Divisions back into working order was more important – as well as addressing the risks the Rukon provided and the problems with tainted souls getting out of control. I wasn't going to start gossiping about old kinsfolk who fell in battle more than twenty years ago now…don't worry."

"Good," Nagesu looked relieved, but his expression was still clouded. "Then I'll ask you to make sure all tonight's patrols have dispatched with their usual efficiency and that nobody has decided to take advantage of the unusual timetable to slip away from their assigned posts. I would rather not appear before them till morning – but I can still sense Yunosuke's roaming reiatsu and he should be able to help if you need an extra hand."

"Yes, sir," Shiketsu got slowly to his feet, and Nagesu could sense the reluctance in his son's aura, yet the young man did not disobey the command. Instead he bowed his head in respect, then withdrew from the chamber, closing the door softly behind him with a click.

I'm sorry, Shiketsu. You wanted reassurance, and I gave you none.

Nagesu grimaced, resting his chin in his hands.

And I lied to you, also. I had thought of Shougo and the others, when I saw Souja-dono's wretched body lying there, silent as the grave. I remembered just as you did, a time when it was an Urahara whose body had been cleaned and dressed by the Fourth Division, and when the Captains assembled in mass mourning for officers felled in the line of duty.

His brow creased slightly at the recollection.

I'm sure we're not the only ones who remembered them today, even as we said goodbye to Souja-dono. Mareiko, Minaichi…I wonder what you were feeling, seeing that young boy's body consumed by flames. I hope it didn't rake through old memories for you too harshly…but even if it did, raising the subject would be a mistake. There is no time for grieving, or remembering past losses. We can only move forward. Keitarou already has a lead on us – we must catch up to him before we are forced to attend another memorial like the one today.


Author's Note
曼珠沙華 Manjushage (the red spider lily) is a flower with historic associations with death and funerary rites in Japanese (and I think, Chinese) culture. I do not know of any tradition of it waking the dead, that was my artistic licence for the benefit of the Endou. As for the Iris, or 花菖蒲 Hana-shoubu (also known simply as shoubu), this flower is the emblem of the Seventh Division as chosen by Kubo. The Japanese word shoubu, as Nakata explained and as I've referenced before, can also mean a battle or a competition, only written with different characters. Therefore Hirata is issuing a challenge as much as he is venerating his Clan and honouring his son with his gesture. The hana-shoubuis usually considered to be a purple flower, but it also exists in a deep reddish colour - which is also a colour belonging to the Endou Clan.

Also, mulberry-thread woven cloth is white, not mulberry. I don't know why, but yay for Classical Japanese class for teaching me this random and fairly useless piece of information.

...You people have no idea how hard this chapter was to write :(.

To end this on a slightly less sober note, I was flicking back through the Meifu chapters earlier this week (a necessity for continuity on a certain zanpakutou, because my brain is small and highly leaky, LOL) and rereading some of the reviews and I realised how much some of the comments made then have helped me (I think) improve my writing to now. There are a lot of things in 2nd Manuscript that make me go *whoops* now, in terms of style and redundant words...yet everyone was so supportive then and I'd like to think that Sukuse is a better written story for that fact. Thank you, minna, for helping my writing evolve. I know it has much, much further to go, but it's nice to feel I'm going in the right direction :). I think it merits cake...especially after a chapter like this one, which two, three years ago I would probably not have managed to write at all