[A/N: Warning: Boring. This is a transition chapter.]

Setting: Isle of Deimon, Shoji Manor

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. came the incessant taps on the lady's wooden doors.

"Hmmm..." The housemaid paused to listen for any signs of movement from inside the chambers. When she heard none, she tapped the wooden doors once more.

Knock. Knock. Knock.Knock. Knock."Mistress?" she called. Yet these taps were also left unacknowledged.

Sighing, the maid resolved to burst open Mamori's quarters. "I'm lettin' meself in, ya hear?."

As expected, she found the lady inside comfortably buried under her sheets. "Yer pa's here…" she continued, clucking her tongue as she made her way to the curtains and pulled them back to let the sunlight seep through the room.

"Mind you, ee's quite angry that ye sent 'im no news of yer whereabouts... "

Mamori merely turned around and covered her head with a pillow.

"What with 'em holla-balloo ye've been up to wit'out 'is presence... an' leavin' with no farewells whatsoever!"

The maid said all these in a huff that to Mamori's half-asleep ears, seemed very much like loud trumpets blasting away.

"BEIN' MARRIED!" the housemaid disdained further "and lettin' 'im die without meetin yer pa!"

Mamori groaned. She didn't know why this topic had to be re-discussed so early in the morning, but she explained... no, lied carefully nonetheless.

"Twas an accident Wakana…" her voice was a little too hoarse from just waking up. "Or might you suggest that I planned his, that is to say, my husband's demise all along...?"

This girl called Wakana, only met this with a tut. "Ya know full well I meant no such thing" and she pulled back the covers, beckoning the lady to rise.

They have already been through with this late last night when the Ballista docked the ports of Deimon.

The conversation was too lengthy, in Mamori's good opinion, but for the sake of good Wakana, she tried to humor her with the supposed full-length details.

So she wondered what on earth could have triggered her chambermaid to repeat the entire interrogation.

Seeing her mistress' confusion, she modestly offered an explanation, "I only worry for yer welfare. There are plenty of peoples on Deimon who'd just love t' hear yer demise."

"Demise?" finally sitting up, stretching her long, slender arms.

"That ye've been stained!" Wakana said, a challenge bordering on her voice.

"Oh." Mamori only smiled and gave her a reassuring look. "Nothing happened."

Wakana silently pondered at her mistress' relieved smile. For a wife who was unjustly deprived of a husband, should she be reassuring others that indeed, no night of passion existed, no unison in love was exchanged?

Should she not show signs of regret, longing… disappointment?

Misreading the perplexed thoughts swirling in her maid's mind, she chuckled. "Really, Wakana. Do not worry so much, I am still fit to wed in a graceful affair."

Wakana sighed. She figured, maybe the shock has not yet seeped through… strange, how the mind of her mistress works.

She placed her hands akimbo and clucked, "If you say so, then, I'll 'ave the 'ead of whomever wench or bastard speaks ill of ye."

"Thank you, Wakana." Bless her trusting soul, Mamori serenely thought. "But please, do not murder on my account," not that she thought it was possible.

"Hmph." The maid assisted Mamori further by fixing the laces behind her bodice. "Will ye be havin' breakfast 'ere or will ye' scurry down an' meet wit' yer pa?"

"I'll go meet papa… heaven knows what kind of mental predicament he is in."

~0~

Downstairs in the dining room, a small group of men were assembled.

"So you're telling me these…" said a gruff man as he was waving papers about "…are all we need for the next match?" he concluded, casually sipping his morning coffee.

His name, was Lord Shoji, Lord of the house, and incidentally the most powerful man in the land of Deimon.

He was one of the privileged and rare few, who aged magnificently. The cuts on the side of his jaw and latent muscles were proof of a once Herculean physique.

His graying hair served only to add an image of acquired wisdom, to his already intimidating aura.

Despite this, or maybe because of this, Takami usually felt at ease when speaking with him. "Yes my Lord, my calculations are accurate."

Lord Shoji is known to be a harsh and strict leader, but he was always fair. "With the strength of our knights there is nothing to worry about and our defense, has been declared the best in the land," Takami added.

"Hmmm… and this Everest Pass… it will work?" rather than at Takami, Shoji directed the question at a blonde haired boy.

Takami nervously pushed his specters up the bridge of his nose.

Mamori paused at the edge of the landing as she heard this exchange. It was a serious discussion, and she wondered if it was alright for her to intrude upon them so suddenly.

The boy in turn was startled, and was confused as to how to take the question. Was it a direct attack, a mere solicitation of opinion or was the lord trying to assess his character?

He, after all, was lagging behind practice.

"I-"

"Papa-" Mamori intervened just as she alighted from the stairs. "Your wrinkles are growing wrinkles!" And she gave him a bemused smile as she placed two of her fingers near his temple to smooth out his forehead.

As much as she did not want to meddle in the discussion of men, she noted that mood was too heavy and that Wakana looked as if she were going to wet herself.

No good would come out of it… especially when Mamori knew she was about to face her father on an interrogation later in the day.

She smiled so gently as she surveyed the men around the table.

It worked like a charm.

Or rather, perhaps she was the charm.

The Lord, who was ready to berate her for her foolish acts, found himself dumbfounded. "Ah… yes" and noted with bemused satisfaction as the men scrambled to their feet ready to offer her a seat.

The rest of the morning went unmarked, except for a little note that Musahi passed to her.

Hiruma Sena lives in Cottage 21, alone.

But he is not 'him'.

~0~

Deep in the woods of Deimon, a young boy could be seen carrying the weight of a rice sack; beads of sweat were trickling down his jaw.

It was almost nighttime, and yet for a bondsman like him, the hours of labor knew no bounds.

Added to that, his being a newcomer earned him additional tasks from his "Sempais" (three burly men) who skipped work to sleep on the fields. He found it unnecessary to disagree, or even negotiate.

Ah well. No sense complaining, work was almost done after all. And this was the last of the rice sacks he needed to load… for the day.

Stretching his arms and rotating his torso, he wondered what he would eat tonight. Food was a scarcity since he met the three.

He was about to leave the bodega, but was startled to find a rich young lady waiting near the entrance.

He looked around but found no one else. Who could she be waiting for?

"Hiruma, Sena… kun?" came her gentle voice.

"…" He could only stare, open-mouthed.

"Am I wrong?" she asked again.

It took him minutes to realize that she was talking to him.

Oh, that's right. My name is Hiruma Sena.

"G-Gomen. Yes, I'm him. I mean… it's me. I mean…"

She chuckled in response.

She looked like an angel. "My name is Madamme Anezaki-Hiruma." she introduced herself. "Please forgive my intrusion."

"N-Not at all!" he said, and managed a low bow. "To what honor-do I owe this… meeting, my lady?"

She gave her a bemused look. "It's pretty obvious, Sena-kun. You share the same family name with my late husband, Youichi."

A flash of yellow hair assaulted his peripheral vision.

He began fidgeting uncontrollably, like he felt someone was watching.

He was also hearing threats and gunshots being fired into his ear.

The air suddenly became cold.

Mamori noted the lad's change in color. He was getting paler and paler by the minute. "Oh please don't be frightened Sena-kun. I have no intention to harm you. I just wished to know…"

No one must know, fucking brat. echoed the voice of the man he met in the gallows.

"… how you are related to him, 'tis all."

And if you fucking tell anyone about our meeting…

"Will you not tell me?"

...I'll fucking scrape your ass to kingdom come.

"Noooooooo" came Sena's anguished and fearful cry as he dropped on the floor panting.

"My goodness!" She exclaimed and hurried toward him. "Are you alright? Oh dear…" She placed her hand on his forehead. "Sena-kun? Sena-kun!"

"…" Sena couldn't stop imagining, his eyes were swirling around in place. "…"

As soon as he regained color, they began a long discussion about how old Sena was, how he was too young to be working off in the field, how Mamori resolved to protect him.

Mamori was to rapt in attention at the young lad, that she failed to notice a tall figure gleaning in the distance, eavesdropping on the conversation.

His lips curled into a nasty feral grin especially when he heard the fucking angel say the exact words he wanted her to say:

"Sena-kun, from now on, you'll be staying with me in the manor. I'll have someone take care of you. I'll ask papa."

Damn good work, fucking shrimp.

Damn good work.

[A/N: Yes, he's back.]