I told her everything. What need to keep anything back after she had accepted the only hurdle that I could perceive?

I told her of the death of our parents and how I could not remember the face of my mother. I told her of how my brother had told me stories and how his face would tighten at the mention of the Taira. I told her of my toy sword and the old blacksmith. And I told her of that dark night when the asassins had come. I told her I was lonely.

These were things I had never admitted to anyone, not even myself. But it felt good to have someone to confide in. Like she would never judge me and I was free to be me, not some scion of a noble family who was fated to seek vengeance.

By the time I finished my life's story dark had fallen into that deep state where the world seems lost except for the light of the moon.

We had relaxed against the tree as we talked, my back against the trunk and my torsoe acting as a cushion for her body. With our new understanding, we were at peace with each other. The tension had dissapated, and now our fingers were entwined with each other as we explored the callouses on each other's hands. Hands so used to the sword that they were familiar and diffferent to each.

"Oh, could I hold this night forever" she murmured sleepily.

"Alas it could not be so" he murmured to himself. Our conversation had effectively ended for the night as I would not pull him from whatever fond reverie he was in at the moment.

"Grandfather" Kage stated, "was not this the woman who eventually marries Yoshinaka?"

"Yes" I sigh. I remember how fate pulled these to souls apart so drastically, and it still pains me, rips at my strands of thought and consciousness viciously.

"Yes she was."

We sat in silence for many moments, both considering the ramifications.

Then Kage snorted, "no wonder he kicked his ass."

I gaped at him and he scowled.

"What just because I act mature most of the time doesn't mean I can't swear. I hear mother swearing like a sailor when she thinks none of us children around. After enough times you start picking things up."

I roared with laughter. The sound brought the others running, I suppose it was a startling enough sound.

"What happened grandpapa?" Sora demanded. She was tall enough now to reach my elbow, and she proceeded to pull on my shirt sleeve.

I grinned down at her.

"Oh nothing my dear. Your brother just said something exceedingly funny."

She screwed up her nose in confusion.

"But Kage is never funny" she said innocently, "he's so old."

I looked to see his response to this comment. He was scowling at her fiercely.

"Old" he muttered darkly. "I'll show you old."

I could tell he was amused though. His eyes were not quite as cold as one would assume that they should be based on his expression.

Sora laughed blithely and danced out of the room.

"I want a story later grandpapa" she called back to me.

A story a story, it's all the next generation seems to want these days. Well I cannot say that I did not want stories when I was younger.

"Yes, I too would wish such nights would last forever and a day. We tried. We put every moment that we could into spending time in each others company beyond the scrutiny of the old monks.

Our training continued as normal, she could still fight me to a standstill and complete exhaustion, but now it was less about platonic competition and more of a dance. When our blades crossed, it was not fierce determination in our eyes, but rather a mischevious affection and laughter between us. The passion of battle often got the best of us and we were hard pressed to hide our emotions. After training we would run off to the woods for some privacy, telling the monks that we wanted to be rid of the sweat of battle. There was no intimacy beyond a kind of playful frolicking, we respected each other too much to start off a relationship as such. This was most likely what saved her later on.

"Yoshitsune" she called to me, "are you dreaming again?"

I had been watching her as she combed her hair once more. I was trying to picture her in female clothing, but it was too strange and I couldn't do it. To me she simply fit and it was right for her to be wearing male clothing.

She asked me something then, and I had to ask her to repeat it as it served only to shake me from my reverie.

"Do you think about death sometimes?"

I could see this was going to be one of our serious conversations. We had those sometimes even though much of our conversation was made up of light bantering and flirting.

"Not often" I replied. "I suppose it must happen and, while I do not seek it, I have accepted that it will come when my time is right."

She sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder.

"When I die" she whispered softly, "I want it to be on a night like this.

I wish to die

in spring beneath

the cherry blossoms

while the springtime moon

is full."

A chill ran up my spine at those words, and I did not answer. Instead I lowered my head to kiss her as I held her close. I could not bear thoughts of losing her.

I wonder now if she was already planning her path through life.

Those words would echo in my mind, haunting me when we were separated.

It was not soon after this discussion that I received yet another letter from my brother. But this time it was not a social nicety. It was, in effect, a call to arms.

It would seem that he had decided to answer Prince Mochihito's call. The young prince, naïve of politics, blatantly called for the mobilization of troops to come to and expulge the Taira from the capital. He wrote this while still under their eye.

This was a response to a series of indignities. The final straw was when, in his arrogance, Kiyomari no Taira had placed his one year old grandson on the throne as the Emperor Antoku. This was more than could be borne.

Our clan was the first to answer, but it was not my brother who led the charge. He was content to wait and watch, using the time he had to build up his forces and strengthen his power base. This tactic would serve him well later on.

It was Minamoto Yorimasa, yet another distant cousin of ours, who first answered Mochihito's call, and together they marched towards Kyoto. They were defeated and executed, but this first battle marked the beginning of what would be called the Gempei Wars.

Do you ever get that feeling, where you just know that this moment will be remembered distinctly for the rest of your life. That was how I felt when I opened that letter. The air stilled and the faint sounds suddenly became louder. The hum of the flies against the screens, the chanting drone of the monks at meditation. I remember exactly what I was wearing that day. It was an old blue shirt with a hole exactly at the collar, bigh enough to stick my thumb through. It was my favorite shirt and I wore it whenever I could get away with it. Contrary to this detailed memory, I do not remember the exact words the messenger said, nor do I recall what words I used in reply.

Suddenly things began to move faster. Everything before had flowed by at a standstill, now the events were flashing past at lightning speed. It was all something of a blur.

Our peaceful days of loitering around the mountain discovering each other once more and familiarizing each other with tactile intimacy, were over.

I was running around frantically trying to get everything done that I thought I needed to. Praying desperately to Buddha, thanking the monks and spending a couple hours each day going through my sword forms once more. Packing was frantic and useless. I had gathered many little things that, while holding sentimental value, held little practical use to me. So I had to go through my rooms figuring this out while trying to limit my luggage to a small bag of essentials.

Although my brother clearly did not intend to make any obvious move for quite a while, letting the Taira exhaust themselves fighting others, I needed to be there. If not for any formal reason beyond support.

I was foolish then, never having experienced true conflict, I looked forward to my first battle. My first blooding."

That was when I knew for sure that he had been the stranger who had reassured me after my embarassment of scant years previous. I had begun to believe that he might be him. His voice was similar, and sometimes when I caught a glimpse of his silhouette I felt a sense of deja vu, but this was actual proof. The term 'blooding' was not the term generally used for a man's first awakening to the world, it was unique to disgust in his voice when he said it, was also the same.

"I fear I was somewhat abrupt in my treatment of Tomoe at the time. She was not excited for me, not in the least. She was perhaps more learned in the ways of the world, more wise. She knew the reality of what this would mean for me. It was not all dreams of glory and honor, it meant death and destruction as well. I would not listen.

We had our first true argument over this. I accused her of being jealous of my good fortune and afraid to fight for herself. I deserved the pounding she gave me for that, not that I admitted it then.

We did not speak for a week, until finally, after cooling down and nursing my wounds, I apologised. I missed her too much. I did not realise until after I was gone, that I would miss her still more when we were no longer with each other.

I had spent some ten years at the temple on Mount Kiyomari when I finally departed.

The monks held a feast to send me off. It was full of laughter and alcohol. They insisted on telling me stories of my misadventures. Though I begged off they demanded a speech. It was some small drivel that I do not remember. Doubtless it was full of masculine self aggrandizement.

Tomoe and I had a private farewell. It was the only time I ever saw her cry.

I set off early that morning. The spring was just beginning to fade nto autumn, and their was a sharp bite to the wind blowing through the treetops. I waved farewell to the line of monks who had woken to see me off. I did not see Tomoe.

I was somewhat depressed at her absence and I continued on in a morose mood. It was only after I had passed the curve in the road and could no longer be seen from the temple, that I saw her. She had let her hair down to blow in the wind, like some kind of banner. I had a strand of her hair wrapped around my finger as a way of remembering her. If she ever discovered that I had cut a strand off while she was sleeping, she would no doubt kill me.

I did not see her again for a very long time.

After a fortnight of journeying by night I arrived at my brother's camp. It was well fortified, as the Taira had no doubt continued to scour the countryside for him, and it was bustling with activity.

He made a grand show of welcoming me. He came up and embraced me, telling all that this was his younger brother who he had been separate from for too long. He decided to call for a celebration. Now I had been on the road for longer than I preferred to be, and was looking forward to the sleep that a comfortable bed promised. This celebration was not welcome in my mind, but I realised the political possibilties of such an event and resigned myself to a long day. At least with this I could begin to familiarixe myself with the important movers and shakers that would be there. And I could begin to make my own connections with them. I knew better than to allow myself to become completely dependent on my brother, years apart had taught me well.

I lost my favorite shirt with the hole in the collar that night. The servants decided that it was not suitable and had it thrown out in favor of an overly embroidered green silk robe. I hated that robe.

This was not the brother I had known. I knew this would be so, but it was still something of a shock. There was no affection left in his eyes. They were cold and bitter, I could tell it had been a long time since he had laughed, and the lines on his voice, so early to develop, were not from laughter but from scowling.

I met his wife that night. She was a tiny thing, I suppose you could call her beautiful in the the traditional way. Her hands were small and they fluttered around in a becoming way. But I did not like her. She seemed to sharp to me. Her eyes glittered hungrily and her face would pinch when she disapproved of something. Frankly, she reminded me of a rat, even before I knew her better.

There were many beautiful women there, the wives or retinue of the lords involved, but I compared them all to Tomoe and found them lacking. I am sure I was not the most charismatic of bachelors.

Soft silks in vibrant colors, pale faces stark against dark lips and long hair. I remember thinking that none of these ladies' tresses could compare with hers. I suppose I was biased.

The music was too loud. It pounded against my skull as I drank more tea than was good for me in an effort to stave off the sleep that was threatening. Finally the lights began to burn low and people began to wander off. As the guest of honor, I could not depart until all had gone.

Such ceremony for an exiled provincial lord.

His narrative was put on hold for a month. It was his turn to fall prey to the elements and catch sick. I knew he had stayed through the height of my contagion. In a time where sickness was feared as a premature path to death and spiritual pollution, this was surprising. However, despite this, I was surprised when he began to display symptoms. He always seemed such a pillar of strength that such a small thing as human disease did not appear as if it could touch him. He was infallible to me.

He often spent the rainy days practicing out on the small ledge of rock just outide of the cave, using the slipperiness to challenge him to leap from obstacle to obstacle in his shadow duel. He was generally soaked through when he returned, but I could tell that he was exhilerated and relatively happy. Rare moments of freedom from his memories.

Our roles were easily reversed as I nursed him through his infirmity.