Scene XII

The Shobu Family Residence

Third District of the Residential Wards, Second Block

After heating up the leftovers Momo-chan had saved for her, Kaede decided to take the meal outside to the back engawa and enjoy the relative peace there. After all, what was the harm in a bit more self-indulgence? It was a far better idea than eating alone at an empty table. While the hour was still rather reasonable, the rest of the household had retired already; most likely starting their evening routines before bed. Kaede knew Momo-chan favored staying up with a good book every now and again, while her father and Oji-san often spent their evenings going over business and whatnot. Ryoji and Kai had been sleeping a great deal lately, as their jobs were labor intensive and as well as mentally exhausting at times. As such, she had been seeing less and less of the two over the last few weeks.

Kaede shook her head, raising her chopsticks for another bite of rice. Relax. Enjoy the moment.

Momo-chan was right; there was a great deal to be happy about and she would be remiss if she didn't take the time to fully embrace it. Konro accepted her. Quite enthusiastically, too, if she may add. Well, after getting over the initial couple of bumps and with a bit of prodding (alright, a lot of prodding, but she was focusing on the positives). He did more than just enjoy her company and her friendship, though it could be argued that those things alone were the most important in a mutual relationship. That he found her . . . well, physically appealing was also a pleasant bit of reassurance. As well as the confirmation that what made her so was due to her own merit and not simply by inheritance alone. Admittedly, it had been somewhat of a secret fear of hers for the past several years. One which he had laid to rest both firmly and with an air of complete confidence.

"It's your face, Kaede. It doesn't belong to anyone but you."

Hers.

Her face.

Her hair.

Her eyes.

All of it belonged to Shobu Kaede and not any other.

It was ridiculous she needed the reassurance to begin with, especially with Tsu-chan assuaging those fears for years while trying to get her to throw away the self-conscious attitude about it. Her sister's words alone should have been more than enough due to her tough-as-nails personality and uncompromising, opinionated stances on certain subjects. Honestly, she couldn't help but feel a bit pathetic that it took Konro, of all people, to tell her what her own sister had been doing so for literal years for the matter to finally get through to her. Then again, every woman wanted to be thought of as pretty to the man she was interested in. What her sister had to say was often taken, regrettably, at face value or as a simple act of sibling kindness. Even though such as thing wouldn't make sense in regards to Tsu-chan. Her sister had never been the type to tell her what she wanted to hear or offer her untruths.

Kaede tapped a hand against her cheek. Positives, Kaede! Positives! He thinks you're pretty for heavens sakes. If Tsu-chan were here she'd be jumping about and screaming over it.

It was true. She could almost see her sister now, dancing amongst the flowers of her garden and singing at the top of her lungs some random ditty she just came up with. It would probably consist of some poorly made rhyming scheme along with several embarrassing bits of information which Kaede would rather not think about. Yet, her sister would be happy for her . . . and she would make damn sure Kaede knew it too. Not to mention Tsu-chan would also insist that Kaede, herself, "be happy too, goddammit, or else!".

She grinned.

The thought of her sister's own elatedness on her behalf made her heart swell and brought forth many memories of all the little moments shared between them over the years. When the next four weeks were up and she was finally cleared to write to Tsu-chan, it would be the first thing she would tell her. The look on her sister's face when she -

"Enjoying the evening, Kaede?"

Her father's deep baritone cut through the quiet of the night from off her left, giving her a small start. She nearly dropped her chopsticks and bowl altogether, fumbling with both but somehow managing not to dump the contents all over herself nor lose the chopsticks in the process. She set them down hurriedly, not trusting her fingers, before half-turning towards her father so as to offer him a polite greeting. He was standing, half in shadow, at the far end of the engawa and dressed in a dark sleeping yukata. Even now, he still wore the forest green haori embroidered with the family's Shobu flower crest; though the night was still warm and the chill of Autumn had yet to take hold. As the moon peeked behind a silver lining of clouds, her father's stern face became illuminated and, from what she could now see of his expression, it was drawn in a mild look of both expectation and exasperation.

"Hello, Father." She smiled, hoping a bit of brevity would ease the current rise in tension. The last thing she wanted was to end a day like this on an argument. "How was your day?"

"Well, enough." Came his response, tone was horribly even, and he expelled a soft sigh before coming up beside her. Kneeling, he folded his hands in his lap before continuing, "Yours, on the other hand, appears to have been eventful. You missed dinner." His gaze was critical, green eyes nearly black in the limited light. Yet, the lines of his face were a tad smoother now and not as pronounced as they would be if he were scowling. "I take it Sagamiya was there, yes?"

It wasn't truly a question and she knew it.

"He visits the shop every now and then." She agreed carefully, eying him warily. While she wasn't one to outright lie, she wasn't going to offer an easy win either. "He enjoys seeing me work. It's relaxing, apparently."

"I'm sure the flower he's most interested in isn't an akaibara or an ajisai." Returned her father lightly, though a hint of wryness did not go undetected.

Kaede was half-tempted to respond along the lines of, Well, it's not a flower he's interested in at all.

After all, her name meant Maple-leaf.

Instead, she replied simply with a small shrug, "He doesn't seem to have a favorite. Has an eye for color, though. Helps me pick corresponding shades when I'm not sure what to use. Let's me know when a piece is too crowded or too lose and what's a good fit for both. I appreciate the assistance, on the rare times he comes."

"Kaede." A tinge of warning entered his voice, but not enough for her to see flags . . . yet. "I'm not as blind as you'd like to think I am."

Worry pricked at her then, sharp and rough; like a cat's tongue lapping at the skin of one's hand thinking you had something to offer and finding nothing at all.

"He has feelings for you," her father's tone dipped and turned somber. "He doesn't look at you with only friendship in his eyes."

Is that so wrong? She wondered to herself.

She said nothing, however, and directed her attention to a row of himawari and ajisai. She needed to do some weeding and lay down a fresh layer of soil when she got the chance. Maybe cut back a few of the lower branches of the sakura tree while she -

A large hand gently grasped her by the shoulder, prodding her to face her aging father and what Kaede saw in his eyes then made her pause. They were worn and tired, filled with wariness and slight amount of concern. The vulnerability there was such she hadn't seen in a very long time and its' presence unnerved her to no small degree.

"I know its not one-sided," his baritone, normally so strong and proud, came hushed and weak. Never before had he sounded so . . . elderly. "You're always so conscious around others, Kaede. But, when you're with him, you're so carefree and happy. You smile with your eyes more. You laugh."

She frowned, hands coming up to formulate a response. "Father -"

"I can't recall the last time you laughed. How can I not remember?" It was as if he didn't see her; those deep, green eyes were suddenly clouded by some emotion she couldn't quite place. He let go of her shoulder, reaching up to scrub roughly at his face as sigh of exhaustion rippling through him. He carried on with a great heaviness, shoulders falling. "You're so much like her, your mother. I know she'd be proud, if she were still with us."

Would she? Kaede wasn't certain but, if her father was saying so with such conviction then . . . perhaps it was so.

"Of Tsubaki, too." He added thoughtfully and the barest hint of a smile tugged at his graying beard. "Despite everything. If only she . . . If only she could have lived long enough to see just how much you two have grown, maybe . . ."

Her father trailed off, the words slowly dying in the night air.

Kaede extended a hand of her own, tapping his cheek lightly so he would look at her once more. "She'd be proud of you, too. You did what you could, raising us without her. I'm sure she'd -"

His expression fell, eyes clouding again. "Your mother was everything I wasn't. That I'm not. Without her . . . I know I've become . . . rather difficult."

"You loved her." She protested kindly, a sad smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Of course, you wouldn't be the same."

Her father mirrored her own smile, his beard twitching slightly. "Her death has been this family's greatest loss. We are all . . . somewhat lesser without her shadow following us about. I never told you how much I valued your help. Caring for Tsubaki afterwards . . . I wasn't capable . . ."

She remembered.

Immediately after her mother's death, her father hadn't been able to shoulder the grief. At five years old, Tsu-chan didn't understand what had happened or why. So, it had been Kaede, at the tender age of thirteen, who took over the responsibility of raising her sister. A hard, tireless task which drained her of a great deal of mental energy, but had also been an outlet for her own grief. She poured everything into her sister as a way to cope with her mother's loss; the task of helping someone else had, in turn, given her the ability to help herself. Perhaps, in hindsight, it wasn't something any thirteen year old should have to take on by herself, but it had spared Tsu-chan from the same pain that the rest of the family continued to live alongside. For that, Kaede would say it was worth everything.

"I know." She signed slowly, smile wavering. "There's nothing to forgive. You tried."

"Not nearly hard enough," her father murmured bitterly, turning from her. "Now, I . . . I wonder if I should have sent the both of you to Shinmon's, instead. Hima-san would have been good for you both, I think."

She bowed her head in thought. Her memories of Shinmon Himawari were filled with a smiling face and clever hands which moved with rapid surety and with quick accuracy. Her mother's best friend had helped her find a voice when all other avenue's had been blocked entirely from her. It was she who had comforted her when her mother passed and held her in her arms when she finally had the chance to cry. Who dried her tears and rubbed her back and told her that everything would eventually be alright. That, despite all else, Tsu-chan was safe and her mother no longer suffering. As far as secondary mother figure's went, there was no better than Hima-san.

Then her father's gaze darkened, a bleak shadow falling across his face.

"Father?" She asked carefully, noting the abrupt change.

He gave a small jerk, as if she had shaken him, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "No, she wouldn't have been able to. Not with . . . not with him running wild and putting them both through so much heartache. Maybe, if he hadn't, it would have been safe for you two to go. But, not with him there. Not then."

Kaede blinked, confused, and then realization swept over her like a dark cloud.

Konro.

She glanced away, off to the side, as a deep sadness washed over her. What could it have been, she wondered, that could have caused him to lose all sense of control and self-discipline? For someone like him to simply throw away everything for some path of self-destruction that was anything less than for the betterment of others seemed so . . . unthinkable. It was a concept she couldn't fathom coming from someone like Konro. It was against his character, the very nature of his being. Yet . . .

"Which is why, Kaede," her father's tone grew strict, prompting her to meet his gaze. The familiar hard light had, once again, returned to his eyes. For the first time since he announced himself on the engawa, he sounded like himself. "I ask that you to listen to what I have to say before you commit yourself to any one decision . . . and come to regret it."

She stiffened then, fingers clutching at the fabric of her hakama and she adverted her eyes for fear of her emotions showed upon her face.

"I know," her father began, turning fully so he was facing her head on, his own eyes searching for hers. "That, if he asked you, you wouldn't be opposed. You would accept it, happily. But, there is a great deal I don't believe you understand about what that would mean."

"He's never treated me with any amount of wrongdoing, Father." Kaede signed strongly, meeting her father's gaze beat for beat, her head held high. She couldn't afford to seem meek now, not with Konro's reputation riding on her to defend. "He's always offered me respect, at every turn."

"I'm sure he has." Her father nodded sharply, jawline tightening under growing irritation. "As Master of the hikeshi, it's his duty to look after the citizens of Asakusa. For that, knowing what he once was, I'm glad. However, anything more than that has my concern."

"Why?" She asked emphatically, her own concern rising to the surface. "Surely his current self is proof of change. Whatever he's done, it can't possibly -"

"What he did," her father snapped, eyes flashing. "Was insult the good will of the Shinmons' and drive Hima-san into an early grave. What he did was cause terror and drive fear into the hearts of anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. What he did was . . ."

He took a stabling breath, expelling with no small amount of force. Kaede sat, rigid, staring at him with mounting anxiousness as he fought to cool his temper.

"What he did, Kaede," her father breathed, tone dropping and voice weary. "Was spend his time hurting others and finding women who could fulfill any and all immediate desires at any time he wished. You won't be special to him, not in that way. Though, you should be."

Her eyes dropped, finding the floorboards of the engawa far more enlightening than the words pounding incessantly against her ears; even though she knew them to be true.

"I'm sorry." Her father's voice barely reached above a whisper and one of his large hands reached across the distance between them to wrap about her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Kaede. But, you need to understand. And it's not only for that reason alone why I don't find him favorable, though it's more than enough. A hikeshi is . . . a hikeshi makes for a rather ill husband. Especially, the Master."

Her hackles rose at that, defense automatically rising to the surface. "Shinmon-san loved Hima-san! He cared for her with all his heart! His grief was proof of that when he-!"

"I don't doubt his love for her," her father cut across. Again, his expression was sharp and unforgiving. "That's something I will never question, not now. But, Hima-san was never first to Shinmon Hibachi. It's the sacrifice all the wives of hikeshi have to make, especially the wife of the Master. Your happiness, your wants, your needs . . . they will always be put aside for the good of others. The duties of the Master of the hikeshi will always come before your own. You will never be the center of his world."

Her jaw clenched painfully and she struggled not to lose her own temper. "I'm well aware of that, Father."

"Are you?" He retorted swiftly, eyebrow raising in incredulousness. "Many think they do until it's far too late. There's a great many women who can't bear that sort of sacrifice. It's not one I would willingly chose for you."

Am I really that weak to him? To Konro? She fisted her hands in her lap, anger pulling at her heart.

The hand at her shoulders drifted slowly in a comforting circle and her father's voice came soft and gentle. "I know this isn't what you want to hear. I know you're angry. But, please Kaede, don't rush into something you don't have all the pieces of."

"And you do?" She tore herself from him, hands biting in their response.

Her father's eyes grew somber, grief overwhelming them. "I do. Because there's the other matter to consider."

"Oh?" She asked, fighting sarcasm.

"What will you do when he dies?"

The question hit her like a Shobu Style Backfist.

Kaede's heart sank. "What?"

"Hikeshi, on average, don't live long." Her father continued gravely, eyes brimming with a growing sadness. "The Master's life span is about half that of a normal man's and that's if he's managed a decent rate as far as fire scenes go. Shinmon was lucky to have lived as long as he did. If Hima-san hadn't Infernalized, most likely she would have outlived him. If you chose to follow this path, there's a very real chance it will be the same for you. At the end of it, you may be a widow. Is that something you can bear, Kaede?"

She drew a shaky breath and then another.

He'll die.

He'll die and I'll be alone.

Like Father.

"Gods," Her father's arms came around her then, drawing her into a warm embrace she hadn't felt in years. "When I lost your mother . . . I couldn't protect her. As strong as I am, it wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough. I'll be damned if you ever know an inkling of what it's like to lose the person you love most in the world. Please, think about this. As good of a man as he is now, Sagamiya is nowhere near the sort I'd want for you. The wife of the Master suffers most and in complete silence, because that is what is expected from her. Asakusa and her people will always be his highest concern, above all else. You deserve to be the center of someone else's world, to be cherished constantly and given every comfort possible. You won't have that with him."

But, I -

Konro, he -

She couldn't say it.

Not even to herself.

"I want you to have every chance there is for a long, happy life." Her father squeezed her firmly and he carded back her hair so he could see her face. "With as little worry or pain, if possible. Your life already has enough in it without adding more. I just ask you to think about it, yes? Please? For me?"

It took everything in her power to offer him one simple nod of agreement, her heart was so heavy it physically hurt.

He returned with a nod of his own, the back of his hand coming up to wipe at her cheek. "Don't cry, Kaede. I know how much you value him. I do. I only want you to consider all your options first, is all. An option which doesn't involve a man leaving you at every turn for a fire scene . . . and with the chance of not coming back. One who doesn't have a history of being frivolous and disloyal. There might be someone better, if you only give that person a chance."

She didn't know what else to say, so she simply sighed and offered a painfully slow, "I'm tired, Father. May I -?"

"Go," he said gently, kissing her on the forehead. "That's probably more than what you wanted to hear tonight. Thank you, for listening to what I had to say. Try and sleep. I'll take your dishes in."

"Good night, Father." Kaede signed, climbing shakily to her feet. "Thank you."

"Good night, Kaede." He smiled, though it was strained and equally worn.

Without pause, she crossed the length of the engawa and slid back the door leading into the hallway. With heavy steps, she entered and made her way down the hall and up the stairs to her room. Once she crossed the threshold, she shut the door with a firm thump! and released a deep sigh of exhaustion. Unwilling to think any further on her father's words, she tentatively began the process of pulling her futon out of the closet and setting it up for sleep. Once that task was completed, she changed into a light sleeping yukata and left the room to brush her teeth.

Upon her return, she pulled back the covers and slipped inside. As she settled, she suddenly remembered she hadn't bound her hair before bed. Too tired to be bothered with it now, she simply lay there and tried to recall the warmth of Konro's arms. The slight rumble of his voice when he spoke in hushed tones against her ear. The sensation of his hands, worn from the use of matoi and fistfights, drifting through the strands of her hair. Anything which proved his apparent feelings towards her.

Yet, there may be a grain of truth to her father's words. Perhaps, she would never be special in the traditional way to him. Perhaps, she would have to sacrifice a great deal of her time and patience for the affection of a man who didn't belong to one person but many. Perhaps, he would die early and she would be left alone to pick up the pieces of her heart and come to terms with a new silence she didn't yet have the experience to cope with. The possibility remained and it hovered over her like a death knell.

Her father was right to ask.

Could she bear it? Could she stand to lose Konro and everything which they had built thus far, as new and fragile as it was? Could she shoulder that pain for the rest of her life without becoming a shadow of her former self? Her mother's death had worn her father down over the years, slowly draining him of the life and joy which, once, took up such a large part of who he was. Would Konro's death result in the same for herself? She couldn't be sure.

The more proud and stereotypical Shobu in her wanted to immediately dig in to stubbornness and claim that, of course, she could handle it. To her, Konro was a man who, regardless of past mistakes, was someone worth her time and effort. What her father thought about the matter wasn't nearly as important as the decision she made herself. If she wanted Sagamiya Konro as her choice of husband, then that settled the matter as far as she was concerned. It was her choice to make and no one else's.

The smaller and more self-conscious part of her, however, worried that she wasn't nearly as mentally strong as she thought she was. If her father, one of the toughest men she knew, struggled as much as he did with the loss of her mother, then surely she wasn't above such things. Konro was a precious person to her, even before tonight. Before the soft touches and warm kisses and an inner fire which warmed a part of her she didn't know existed. The looming threat of his death was one she honestly hadn't fully considered, let alone in regards to her own self.

The hikeshi were a group of men willing to wage war against the flames of this world which threatened them all and, as a result, their lives were both spared and snatched away by their mercy alone. Konro's own life was no different. As strong as he was, as powerful as his pyrokinetic abilities were, he was still just a man. Perhaps not an average one, but a man nonetheless. He wasn't immune. As much as she liked to think he could escape near anything, there would come a day when his skill and strength failed. Where even his flames couldn't protect him and his body gave out. A chance even his men wouldn't be able to pull him free of a collapsing building or shield him with their own Second Generation abilities. A time where the smoke would catch the wind the wrong way and overwhelm him completely. There were so many ways a fire scene could take a wrong turn and change from being fully in control, to down right unmanageable.

It had had happened before.

They once lost four whole blocks of the Residential District due to a firestorm which could have taken the whole town with it, if not for Shinmon Hibachi's quick thinking and swift action. She vaguely remembered a young, short-haired Sagamiya Konro standing beside the old Master, covered head to foot in soot and ash. He had been smiling, a rather grim one to be sure, but there had been a somewhat cocky air to him as he stood, backlit by the growing inferno, waiting for the Master to give him the order to advance. It had been a harrowing event which killed five hikeshi and injured more than three-fourths of the entire force. Konro had suffered a broken arm by the end of it, if she recalled correctly.

There would be another. There always was. It was just a matter of when, rather than if, and she would have to come to terms with the possibility that he may disappear into that thick, black smoke only to never come out again, alive. A likely chance that her last memory of him would be running towards a wall of flame, only to be swallowed by it entirely. Eventually, it would come to claim him and only Kannon's Mercy would be there to offer him comfort as he passed into whatever void which awaited them on the other side.

Kaede rolled over and faced the window, still partially open from when she pulled back the screen earlier that morning. The moon was shadowed now, obscured by cloud cover. All she could see was muted darkness and the vague shapes of her dresser and window frame. She shivered, a deep cold settling somewhere at the base of her spine, and she borrowed deeper within her covers, curling her legs as she fought for warmth. How she wished he was here so he could wrap his arms around her and tell her he wouldn't leave again.

It was then, as she shook in her futon, wishing for the comfort of arms three times the size of hers, that she came to a realization. If it was Konro she cared for, truly, above all else, then no one would be able to take his place. No one would be able to whisper those comforts the way his baritone could against her ear. No one would be able to match the way he could hold her so firmly against him and, at the same time, cradle her hand as if it were made of glass. No one would understand how much she wanted to walk beside someone with quiet companionship, without the worry of her hands being taken from her.

No one else knew just how much she feared being seen as a mere reflection of her mother and not the person she was beneath the shared features. How she worried her lack of a true voice made her difficult and unapproachable to others. No man knew more than him, how much she wanted to be accepted by someone for the woman she was and not for the woman she could never be. There was no one else who knew her in all the ways she wished to be known, aside from her family. No one but him.

If he could do all of that for her, then why was she laying here imagining all the horror which could go wrong? He was a hikeshi. She could no more remove that quality from him than his pyrokinesis. It made him the man he was. If he were anything else, he wouldn't be Konro.

Kaede inhaled sharply, taking a moment to calm her racing mind.

In order to love the heart of a hikeshi, one had to possess a similar will. She may not be physically strong enough to stand beside him in those battles, but she could offer her own brand of support. She could be there when the days were hard and long and filled with sorrow. She could wipe the ash and soot from his face and offer him what little strength her arms could manage. She could be there with a warm meal and an ochoko of sake when he came through the door from a day's worth of work. If little else, she could ease the burden on his heart.

Even if but a little.

While she knew there would be days were it seemed she wasn't as prominent in his life as much as she wished to be, she also knew there would be moments like tonight. Moments where he could hold her and tell her how much he cared. Moments where they could simply be themselves without having to worry about whether or not the world was going to fall apart without them. Moments where they could laugh and joke and tease each other in peace, if only for a few minutes before the next ring of the hansho. A hikeshi's work would never be done; if she had any true feelings for him at all, then she would be able to make peace with that fact.

To be the wife of a hikeshi was to sacrifice time and patience and personal wants. Yet, it was also a role which would present support to others. She wouldn't be alone. She would have Beni-chan and the other wives; the hikeshi themselves, even. And most of all . . . she would have Konro. For however long the gods decided she could, at least. Even if it was only for a short while before she would have to, eventually, let him go. He belonged there, among the ash and flames and heat. His love for Asakusa shown brightest when he stood backlit against the raging tongues of a fire scene.

There was no doubt he cared for her. His actions tonight proved this, she knew. However, the matter of his past was now something she could no longer simply brush aside. When the next chance presented itself, she would ask him . . . and she would listen. Whatever judgment he thought he deserved, she would reserve it until she had the whole truth. Then, and only then, would she fully decide whether or not Sagamiya Konro was a man for whom she would be willing to bear the sorrow of death.