Because night was changing into day, the winds were changing too.

Nearby, a dog barked, a cat wailed, and the koi fish in the pond scattered at the pounding vibrations of footsteps. Although no one was awake yet, and no one could hear it, the breeze whistled a different hymn this early morning.

Hurriedly, Kanon half-ran along the porch, bare feet slapping rhythmically, softly, on the freshly cleaned wood, recently polished, reflecting her likeness in an earthy hue, disappearing as she ducked into her empty room, only pausing to glance about her surroundings, making certain no one saw her. Shifting a wrapped bundle under her arm, she slid the door to a hollow wooden clack, closing it behind her.

Several minutes later, she reemerged, arms unburdened, proceeding to another door down the hall. Kanon walked silently, carefully, on the front of her feet, her footprints invisible as a cat's, and with nimble fingers she opened the the nearly holy air, cooled by the night and laced with a faint scent of incense, brushed upon her face.

It was the dojo. The wooden floor reached far back into the huge room, the dim light of a small torch behind her sliding into pitch black shadows. Overtaken by a private reverence, she had to steel her nerves before stepping inside, onto the scene of the some of the only colorful memories for her.

Kanon's bare feet me the other side of the threshold. Her sentimentality was cast aside, and she again took up a swift pace, staight for the front of the room. When she came closer to the alter, with a lit candle her only guiding light, the floor switched into tatami mats; any sound she was making muted insantly.

With slender fingers, she, with a graceful gesture, slid a tanto knife from the rack, a small one in a wooden sheath intended for concealment. One wouldn't be missed; they had a large assortment and many spots on the racks were empty, their respective weapons either being fixed or replaced. Temporarily stashing it into her sleeve, she then left.

Afterwards, the girl slipped back into her bedroom. Quietly retrieving the tanto she had filched from her sleeve, she set it upon the dresser.

From the closet, she withdrew the package she had come in with, messily wrapped in dusty canvas and tied in a lopsided knot of twine. She quickly undid it, kneeling on the floor and sitting on her ankles. Unfurling a cut off pair of men's trousers and shirt, both old and worn, she inspected them with a sweep of her eyes. They brimmed with energy, her lips pursed for possibly the first time in anxiety.

But she wasn't much a person for hesitation, so Kanon swiftly pulled off her sash and her kimono, letting both drop down to pool around her ankles. Quickly changing into the ragged but clean set of clothes. They fit, and were, she found, comfortable. It was almost a shame to her, needing to redress in the kimono. She considered forgetting the disguise, and simply leaving as was. Yet her reasoning gave her no room for the thought, and she reluctantly pulled on her robe again.

The tanto was relieved of its sheath. She spread the canvas out, and knelt before it. Hunched over it, Kanon took a section of her long hair into hand, and with a decisive stroke of the blade, sheared it off.

Just as Kanon reached for the next section of hair, a gentle knock outside her door caught her attention. Petrified, she looked up at the soft call, "Kanon? I'm coming in..."

The word "wait" should have come. Yet she sat on the floor dumbfounded as the door slid open. Yuuma came in to find his sister frozen in place with a handful of hair in one hand and the knife in the other. Upon the floor was already a severed coil of the sacrificed hair.

His expression became as blank in shock as hers. Yuuma had several false starts at speaking, and upon the third failed attempt, awkwardly cleared his throat. He sighed and pursed his lips, much like how she did.

"Kanon..? What are you....." Yuuma's voice trailed off, his words falling and fading into the floor.

"...." She blinked, and eased her hands down to the floor, attempting to pull together a strong face. Her tone betrayed the facade, as she stuttered, "I....I hate my hair long."

"...." He tilted his head curiously, as if he had been provided a puzzle.

Meanwhile, Kanon quietly slipped out of her fright, and her eyes became steeled. She felt satisfied, unrelenting as she stared into her brother's face. After all, she knew what she was doing.

"Well." Yuuma finally said as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other and placed a hand on his hip. "Mother wouldn't like it."

"Father will laugh." Kanon countered.

Yuuma chuckled. "He would."

"Would"? Kanon briefly pondered, her thoughts interrupted by Yuuma, who stepped fully into her room. Taking a moment to close the door behind him, he offered, "Let me help?"

Blinking away her surprise, Kanon nodded as he kneeled behind her and took the knife from her still-delicate fingers. He hadn't even really waited for an answer before he moved to help. Apparently, he knew well enough his sister couldn't be stopped. And, after all, with a huge chunk of hair already hacked off, it wasn't as if he could repair the damage.

"How short?" Yuuma inquired. With her hand, Kanon gave an indication.

"That's short." He commented lightly, but didn't argue.

It was strange, Kanon thought, how he didn't even seem to disapprove. Yuuma was a peculiar person; did no one notice? He was difficult to read. Shouldn't he have scolded her, snatched the blade from her, and reported her misbehavior to their parents once they awoke?

Then again, Yuuma rarely acted in a manner that she expected him to.

She mused on, as Yuuma's hands, perhaps as decisive as her own had been, quickly worked, first hacking away at the long tresses so they severed at her shoulders, than proceeded to trim with careful flicks of the blade.

It was still dark outside by the time he was finished. Curious, Kanon brushed her fingers against the neatly cut ends of her formerly long hair.

"Your hair has been long from your earliest memory, hasn't it?" Yuuma passed his faint smile to her. She nodded.

"Well, no more." He said reassuringly, placing his hand on top of her head, and smirked. "Even though you look like a boy now."

Kanon snickered.

The nostalgically glowing sunlight might have been running across Yuuma's face a strange way, for his face was cast into a mold of a grieving man. He seemed overcome with a sudden melancholy as she glanced discreetly at him. Feeling a twinge of concern, Kanon tilted her head ever so slightly and bit the inside of her lip. She leaned over, one hand flat upon the floor to support herself, as she attempted to get a more thorough look at him.

"Yuuma...?"

Ducking down, he folded the canvas laden with her own discarded locks of hair. "Should I burn it, or bury it?"

"What....?"

As he rose, he sent another little smile at her. "Oh, nothing. It was a joke."

Kanon searched his half-turned face. Once he noticed her gaze, his smile spread, and he knelt down again to pat her on the head.

"You'll be okay, Kanon."

What....?

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, shaking her of her seedling thought. While she clutched her hand to her head and frowned in indignance, she watched as he made his way to the door. The beginning of the morning's glow was beginning to press through the paper door with invisible palms, the sour-sweet red of a freshly sliced grapefruit.

Yuuma seemed oblivious to the indignant glare Kanon used to peer at his broad back, until he paused to turn around at the doorway.

"Goodbye, then, Kanon." Smiling as normal, he ignored the quizzical expression that reshaped even Kanon's eyes. Yuuma then stepped over the threshold of the room. He wasted no time in closing the door behind him. Although she could hear his footsteps fade away, she couldn't see through the wall, although at that moment, she almost wished she could.

....And people said she was odd....

Wasting no more time pointlessly thinking, Kanon gave it several minutes before she hurriedly began to gather the few belongings she deemed important. She hadn't counted on Yuuma discovering her, and the rest of her family would awaken soon; she had to be long gone before they rose from the comfort of their chambers. Sudden nostalgia couldn't tie her down, and Yuuma was a man, and didn't need her unnecessary concern. It wouldn't do him, nor her, any good.

With a small pack strapped to her back, Kanon slipped out of her room, once and for all. She first stepped lightly, on the front of her feet, carrying her shoes under one arm to keep herself as silent possible. However, as soon as she stepped out of the gates, she leaned against the wall to slip them on.

Although sure no one had seen her, Kanon suddenly felt a wave of uneasiness. Was it because she was leaving? Did some inner instinct tell her she was being watched?

With an anxious glance about, Kanon reassured herself she was alone; there wasn't even anyone on the street. And so no one could even tell her family they had seen her....

Nearby, a crow screeched, its loud call echoing out over the buildings and through the streets. It was a starting bell for Kanon, who broke into a run at the thought of getting caught by someone taking even a bleary look out their window.

It was time to leave.

Thus concludes Yuuma and Kanon's mini story. I was really starting to like Yuuma as I went along.

He loved his sister, didn't he? He knew she was leaving, didn't he?
Ah, but he knew what he had to do...