Before dawn broke across the azure sky a lone figure arose from the futon in the confined hut. Bleary eyes forage a rustic pot to churn water before she prepare for the arduous journey home.

A few days ago, a villager from Fukumi's hometown visited to bear critical news due to her enfeebled mother. The elderly male was kind-hearted to traverse such a distance to fetch the young girl.

The low flame reflected in her desolate gaze. The day had come forth for Fukumi to depart home to her family even as her atrabilious heart was never able to accept the truth.

A lone tear rolled down.

She had filled in a request to the lady of the teahouse of her family problem and thankfully, the maiko was generous to accept Fukumi's hasty resignment.

The young lady sauntered to lift up the nori in the time slid the entrance's aperture to greet the early morning; she calmly inhaled crisp dewy air and exhaled from her nostrils.

Luscious locks flowed over her slender shoulders as Fukumi initiated to bundle her little asset after a brief meal of leftover from last night and a cup of tea.

"Minata-san," a voice greeted at the entryway. "Good morning, are you ready?"

"Wakaba-san, good morning to you," she bowed at the aged villager. "I'm almost ready but, can we travel later in the afternoon?"

"Eh?" he blinked in surprise by the odd appeal. "But it's a strenuous exertion, young girl."

"I know," she fidgetted nervously. "I promise it won't be late, because there is someone that I have to meet before we leave."

He sighed at the same time scratched at his tuft of snow white hair. He was a senior, but he was competent to pull the medium sized cart by his lone strength.

"Alright," he nodded in acceptance. "If you wish to, but who is that person?"

"Just someone that I've known during my stay here," she explained as a small smile formed on her plum mouth. "She is a ronin."

"Oh," he barked a laughter. "And here I thought Minata-san fell in love with a rich man."

Fukumi reciprocated to his mirth with a shake of her head. She invited Wakaba indoors and that the widower acknowledged gratitiously.

"I'll return home before the two of us set off," Fukumi notified softly. "In the meantime, Wakaba-san may rest for the upcoming sojourn."

"Are you going to see her now?" he enquired from the prone position on the tatami floor.

"Yes," she replied quietly. "I will not be late."

Birds tweeted merrily as their tiny bodies flittered from one tree to another; the grassblades in tune with the gentle breeze. Wild hares were spotted across the stretch of road.

Fukumi glanced down at her kimono that was easy to travel on but admirably pretty by it's pattern. Silky hair put up in a loose bun and tendrils caressed her fresh complexion.

Soon, the eager female buzzed in the heart of Yoshiwara. Variegated of attires swarm in her observant vision; clamorous sounds from bustling concourse drifted to her sensitive ears.

Fukumi conjoined as one with the morning hustle and bustle in pursuing Haruka; ebon kimono and messy bun perched atop the head.

Time was of the essence for Fukumi because the hour was brisk and they had to embark soon, if the two of them planned to rest at another town.

Baby hairs on Fukumi's nape prickled when she located a familiar stature at a stall. The back was presented to her nonetheless, Fukumi's pristine heart skipped in a double beat.

Haruka's tall frame isolated her amidst the mass of commonality. As of today, the ronin's mussed blonde hair trailed on her firm shoulders.

Haruka, she exclaimed inwardly.

A dainty hand outstretched as if to tap on the back evetually, she recalled that the gangster had once cautioned her when approached from behind.

"Haruka-san," the besotted girl signified her appearance. "Haruka-san?"

But the ronin never perceived her name in lieu, Fukumi draw near to poised beside. Cocoa tinted eyes peered upward when she gasped discernibly; moss-green eye beneath straggly fringe stared from the corner vision.

Mussed blonde hair framed Haruka's sharp feature.

"I have been looking out for Haruka-san," Fukumi set about in a low voice although the words were drowned by the fulminating vicinity. "Can we converse somewhere more reticent?"

The girl perceived a response; Haruka never swayed from the location in front of the cart stall rather, sunk pearly white teeth on a steam bread. Long tapered fingers cradled the bun.

"Haruka san," the nervous female conveyed distinctively. "I want to bid my farewell, because I will not be returning to Edo ever again. The reason behind for my departure is for my dying mother."

"Hm."

"I... will miss you," Fukumi's voice broke at the end. "Thank you, for coming into my life and as a token of memory, please accept this."

Fukumi tenderly pull out a small hair pin that was tucked carefully in the lapels of her obi: tiny ivory beads hung from a lone cherry blossom.

The hair accessory had been Fukumi's first purchase when she received her salary.

The blonde haired samurai brushed past, she ignored Fukumi's plaintive sorrow.

The hair pin dugged into Fukumi's trembling hand.

"I know Haruka san doesn't accept my feelings," she insufflate her breath to bottle up the runaway emotions. "This is not the appropriate time or place to discuss..."

Without checking on the person behind, Fukumi sensed Haruka's presence; she paused at mid motion. They stand in reverse and onlookers gave them a wide berth at the same time, peeked in curiosity.

"Oi, Haruka!" A tattooed man waved from afar. "Raiku-sama is hunting for you."

The soft footfalls of Haruka's zori continued, when Fukumi haltingly pivoted she was greeted by the view of unfamiliar faces but not the person to whom she had confessed to earlier.

*

The evening sun; a fiery orange globe set at the peak of mountains when Fukumi and her companion chance upon an inn to book seperate den. The clammed up female excused the offer to dine in a restaurant at opposite structure.

Perched on the ledge of the single window, she overheard boisterous exchange ground floor in which the topic was associated with shinsengumi and the latest Ikedaya incident.

The shogunate had made a move although Fukumi's focal point was elsewhere. The female toyed with the accessory as a tiny smile flittered on her lips.

"If only you gave me a chance to heal your pain," she whispered when light shower from the heavens drenched the people in the open space below.

Obsidian hair fluttered due to the windy atmosphere and hazel eyes flickered at the empyrean. She was inquisitive of the ronin; Fukumi won't be able to stop herself from loving Haruka.

Eyelids fluttered close as the exhausted girl reminisced memories of her time spent with Haruka and experienced a stab of agony. Their moment together was nothing much to fantasize about since the two of them only came face to face if the gangster visited the brothel section.

The quest for home had been several days too long due to their snail pace.

"Nii-chan! She has returned home!" a young boy hollered in joy.

Fukumi let loose a melodious giggle when all of the villagers gathered to welcome her. A warm fuzzy sensation clutched onto her heart as she was whisked off into a quiant residential and saw an old woman laid out on a futon.

Tears blurred the image of her mother when they rolled in copious amount. The pitiful reunion was soon to be cut short.

Fukumi had circle back to her birth place; their ghostly mirth of their past bounded in the depressive quarter.

Death hung in the enclosed space; impalpable nevertheless obtrusive.

"I'm home, oka-san.."

The grieved female delicately hunker down beside the immobilized being just as wrinkled eyelids fluttered wide to collide misty gaze with Fukumi's own.

The ill woman breath her last.

Note: Thank you for reading this chapter and my deepest apology when you spot mistakes~