THE PASSING WIND

-TheSilentReader-

_, 1971

Dearest,

Spring is here, as I write to you.

I would be very fortunate if my words would reach you in the future. You must fought the impulse of destroying every memory of me, good or bad, but it does not matter, as long as you could read this one. You might think that I am giving you a hard time by bringing up what could have been, but I would be very brief, unlike my earlier letters, since this would be my last correspondence to you. If ever you would reply, I would not be able to respond, like I used to. I was very eager, was I not?

At last, I wrote this to say goodbye. I thought I died when you left and came back to Tokyo for good, but then, I discovered that I did not. You were insistent on going back to your family. At first, I did not understand how you disappeared without reflecting on your promises, not only to me, but to yourself. You told me more than once that you have a vision for us two, to be together heart and soul. I believed you with all my heart, because I know you well. I worked hard believing your words. I saw a future with us together, and I used to hope in its weakest chance that you would return. I know you will not, and I accept it now.

Do not worry about me. Being without you has been normal now. I handle myself well, and I believe that I can live without you, even though my heart died when you left. I believe I can replace what has been gone, and fill my heart anew. I know it.

I hope you are happy. I always wish happiness, every single day, for you.

I still love you. I will always love you. Remember that you will always have a part in me, that you exist in me, even if we will not cross paths in the future. There will always be hope, even if we are alone. I hope so.

Yours,

Setsuna

CHAPTER 15

Yumi woke abruptly, the sweat in her forehead and back were dripping coldly. It would have been nice if she could just have a decent sleep without any nightmares haunting her. She looked for her alarm clock; not finding it made her realize that she fell asleep in the middle of her messy workroom. A haori was draped on her body.

Sei was beside her, sleeping and sharing the same haori with her. She was peacefully asleep, and Yumi was glad that she was. Yumi noticed the dark circles around Sei's eyes, and judging that from the sudden change of smooth slopes of cheeks into sharp ones, Sei had not been sleeping for days. Or eating.

"What's wrong, Sei?" Yumi whispered as she settled two fingers upon her senior's cheek and slid them a little downward.

Yumi knew Sei was already awake. Sei opened her eyes to stare at her. "Do you remember when you asked me how I got over Shiori? You asked me ages ago, after your second exhibition." She was answered with a slight nod from the painter. She continued, "What have you done ever since Sachiko came back to your life?"

Yumi did not answer back. Instead, she asked, "What makes you so bitchy about her? I understand what you feel because of me but . . . back then, you were very considerate and perceptive of everyone's situations. Instead of taking anyone's side, you reprimand me to be more open to things. Now, I am surprised. I don't know why, but suddenly, you're so foreign."

"I don't understand."

Yumi interrupted. "I don't fucking understand, either. It's been a long time since I've re-evaluated my life. Dreams and nightmares coming and going, as well as people I don't want to see anymore. Ever since you came back, and after she left me, you made me feel satisfied with myself, even of what I've become. You took me all in. Touko, too, eventually. What makes you do that?"

"We're the same, Yumi. I see myself in you." Sei smiled bleakly. "To be honest, I let you become what you are because . . . I want you to become like me. I want someone to share and know what I feel. The loss . . ." She shifted to hide her face from Yumi. "Somehow, I envy you. Even the bitch you've become. Have I told you that before?"

Yumi narrowed her eyes. She knew not where the conversation was heading. "I chose to be like this, Sei. But now, I am getting weaker and weaker. I can feel it. I am already happy of what I chose to become. I am already satisfied . . ."

Sei faced her again, this time she forced the painter to look at her directly. "I let it happen, Yumi. I should have saved you."

"Is this about before? The old things that I used to be? I don't need that shit from you. You," Yumi breathed, suddenly nauseated by Sei little inconsistencies. She could not understand why Sei was beginning to act as more than the convenient Onee-san that she was. The painter was not liking this suddenly emotionally attached Sei here in the confines of her workroom. Just when the day would start. She was thinking that they shared the same sentiments—Sei helped Yumi . . . she was her savior; not in ways that would bring back the innocence she lost when Sachiko left her, but a coping person after a disappointing event, which was always better than the first. Now she was hearing this bullshit.

"I don't regret anything. I thought we're in the same boat. This is not the time to have conscience for Sachiko, or for everyone else that hurt me before. Or to regret because of whatever is happening now. You have no responsibility on me." Yumi said faintly.

Sei's eyes blinked. Yumi immediately regretted what she had said, but decided not to take it back. Whatever was done, it was to protect her. It was to know Sei's reasons for behaving so unconventional. Sei was already acting weird ever since that party. What the hell was eating her?

"You are not this, not like this. What are you doing, Sei? Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

Sei looked away and did not answer.

Yumi sighed. "In the end, we didn't answer our questions to each other. Every discussion seems to be pointless. Nothing is resolved."

They were silent for a while.

Sei changed the subject. "What's next in your Kinomoto restorations?"

Yumi, who quickly recovered, replied as she looked at the canvas resting upon the stand, "This one is Setsuna's."

Yumi looked at the third Kinomoto painting displayed proudly on the stand. Today, she was going to start restoring a painting of the third generation Kinomoto painter—Hinata's daughter.

Unlike her predecessors, her paintings were bright, hopeful. Her mother,Hinata, had her paintings bleak, dark, full of arid colors—a result of her experiences during the second great war. In Setsuna's work, Yumi saw herself years ago—when she was still in university, savoring the intellectual and creative freedom with her brushes. Hopeful—that was the appropriate term—for the future.

She felt pathetic while she looked at it. She could not fathom why.

Few days ago

"This is a charming house." Ryu said to his old friend, Kashiwagi Suguru, as they walked through hallways of the Kinomoto compound. Kashiwagi opened the door of his study for Ryu and joined him inside. Kashiwagi did not bother to reply.

"You probably know why I came here in Kyoto." Ryu started as he sat on a single couch while Kashiwagi took the opportunity to get his hands on the liquor cabinet.

"Business." Kashiwagi replied.

"No, thanks." Ryu was refering to Kashiwagi's offer for a drink. When Kashiwagi took his seat in front of Ryu, the latter continued: "I'll keep this simple: stay away from us. What makes you think that your plans in messing up with the Ogasawara Zaibatsu will continue in without me noticing? Do not make me laugh, Suguru. If you want a fight, do it fairly. Yours against mine."

"The company that you serve was just picking up after you gained your position there. The old man used to have it bad but still, you stupidly took the responsibility. You are smarter than that. All for the sake of the girl. Trying to be the hero?" Kashiwagi replied. There was no amusement or trace of playful banter in his voice.

Ryu ignored him. "We are moving forward. It is not very wise taking over a company such as ours, even with our situation. What you are doing is beyond logic." Ryu sensed the sharp twitch of Kashiwagi's eyes as he talked. He confronted Suguru, because he knew he had the chance to win. He knew things. "Who are you after, Kashiwagi?"

Kashiwagi said nothing, seemingly just observing Ryu. The latter was beginning to be amused with Kashiwagi's silent treatments. Ryu continued, "This is not a game for you, is it? Up to this point, I am doing all I can in this company for Sachiko. I want it to be nice and ready with all its glory when she'll takeover. There's so much to do—answer to an incompetent board, replace them if I would, pay debts, increase revenues . . . but you're the one getting in the way.

"Again: tell me, who are you after, Kashiwagi?" Ryu demanded. When Kashiwagi was unable to form an answer, he continued, "I can give it to you, so as you would not to bother with my business."

Kashiwagi ignored him. "Have I ever told you before that I was adopted?"

Ryu had forgotten how distant Kashiwagi was whenever he talked about his origins. Suguru told him in a whim after a gang fight during middle school, and now, Ryu never expected that Suguru would be so relaxed reminiscing the past. Stunned, he replied rather reflexively, "Yes."

Suguru smirked. "Who I'm after, you ask?" Ryu knew now whom he was talking about. "It's the man who ordered his dogs to tail Fukuzawa Yumi and Touma Sachiko. In fact, a dog is on the west wall of the Kinomoto compound, eyeing on everyone here."

Touma Ryu's eyes narrowed at Kashiwagi Suguru.

"Ever since Fukuzawa-kun and I came back from your party at Hinomura's place, Ogasawara has been on my backyard, watching Fukuzawa from time to time. He did not even know his cover is already blown the first moment he set his little spot overlooking Fukuzawa's workroom."

Shimata appeared from nowhere and placed a cup of tea on Kashiwagi's table. Ryu eyed the butler, a little restless of what he knew. Suguru spoke, "Ogasawara Kyouichii owes me something, just like he owes you by saving the Ogasawara Zaibatsu. No, that's not right; his debts run deeper than what he owes you, Ryu. I just want to fuck with his guts—you know—to shake him up. He owes me that much."

"Why are you saying this to me?"

Kashiwagi answered. "To set our bounderies. I knew you'd notice my little scheme even after all this time. I know you'd discover me and my reasons for doing this. You probably know now that I am Kinomoto Setsuna's son. It's not as if I wanted to keep on hiding. You're smart but reckless. But you probably know that."

He took a sip from his teacup and motioned for Shimata to offer one to Ryu. Ryu nodded in acceptance. He kept on: "I'm just after him."

"In a sense, Ryu, we all win."

Because family is everything. It is everything.

"Yes, I clearly know what I heard. But stay your dogs away from my wife."

The man in impaccable business suit grolwed lightly between his teeth. Touma Ryu could not stay calm and act all cocky when it comes to Sachiko even if the patriarch of the Ogasawara family was in front of him. It was the first thing he wanted to do after his trip from Kyoto. Damn superiority and respect for the elders. Not when he learned about Kyouichii's men dropping breadcrumbs behind his wife.

Ogasawara Kyouichii eyed at Ryu with coldness and ferocity that matched the other. He was not used to people cockily raising their faces as if they have a place in the world—he was the only one who can define himself and his worth. But seeing Touma Ryu like that dug up corpses of memories that they buried long ago. What an arrogant boy.

"What overconfidence you have, Touma." Kyouichii grinned as he saw Ryu's weakness like flashes of neon lights against the dark, moonless sky. "Do not make me lose my patience with you. She is my granddaughter, one of my blood. I can do whatever I please with her."

Ryu leveled his eyes at the president. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he would speak what he wanted to say. "This is the twentieth century. She's my wife, not your possession."

"Your possession then?" The old man in his thick glasses asked smugly.

Ryu struggled silently to disregard the old man's taunts. He would not be surprise if Kyouichii-sama knew. "She is herself. Do not make me count everything that you owe me, Oji-sama."

With that, Touma Ryu headed out of the door.

Ogasawara Kyouichii knew that Touma Ryu was the right mix that is needed under his company. He has the talent, the skill, and the wealth that a normal family member of the great, old Ogasawara usually had. He is not too proud or arrogant—rather, too cheerful for Kyouichii's indulgence—but he should take this chance as his opportunity. The Touma family had been a very strong competitor in business since Kyouichii's time, back when Ryu's grandfather were still the head of the vast company. They fought hardly and menacingly, surfing into the vast opportunities of the booming economy even after the second world war, gaining and losing other competitions along the way. The old Touma gained Kyouichii's respect, but their game ended early. When the old Touma saw the moment that his son was already capable of handling the company by himself and was very willing to take responsibility on his shoulders, he confidently handed down the torch to his son.

Kyouichii was rather disappointed of Touma's lack of drive and ambition.

Touma's company was always laid-back, subtle on their dealings, but could always be at par with Ogasawara's aggressive methods. They never played each other's game, and never thought of a moment to do so. He seemed to have forgotten all about Touma until a rumor circulated that the second generation Touma, Ryu's father, had thought of passing the proverbial torch to his only son. Out of irritation, or an unpleasant acidic turnover of Kyouichii's stomach upon hearing this news, he picked up the phone and directed it to the first-generation Touma's direct hotline.

He never understood making the youth, a would-be fresh university graduate of Economics be responsible of a company with thousands of employees working for it. For Kyouichii, the scenario would be very horrific, very suicidal. Security was the first thing in his mind, but his Touma counterpart did not understand that. But out of that phone call, Ryu's grandfather shared only a little insight, "I trust my son's attitude, just like he trusts my grandson."

It was as if Touma had been educating a child. Kyouichii remained calm even if his insides were boiling in humiliation.

Then he saw him at a party. And that moment he thought complacently: Touma Ryu do not have an ounce of surviving instinct in his body. Naïve. He could not wait for crocodiles that would feed on him eventually. Yet, as the little boy leveled his eyes to Kyouichii's dark ones, the latter noticed that Touma Ryu was more than his easy atmosphere and ready smile. Ryu was at his best the moment he was introduced to Kyouichii, and stayed confident throughout their small, impersonal conversation. He took a liking at him not because he knew things between knots and bolts, but because he appeared to learn easily. He was willing to be taught. He appeared like an unfilled glass. Kyouichii realized that, maybe, he could hone him into something else greater than what the Touma men before Ryu had taught him.

He's a good match for Sachiko—their temperaments complement each other. But did that matter when a good merger could happen if it were realized? Afterall, marriage was just a piece of paper.

He might even give him the reigns to run the new empire. Let's see how Touma groomed this little pony into their own perception of the perfect heir of the Touma business. Kyouichii observed how Ryu entertained her pitiful granddaughter as they glide on the dance floor. Energetic. Like all other men, he had taken a deeper liking to Sachiko, but the girl seemed not interested to thaw even a little indulgence to the man leading the dance. Lately, Sachiko had been openly expressing her discomfort over these repetitive parties. The oldest Ogasawara had known Sachiko's puny, little hedonistic whims of "disobeying"—her bored, unsavory exterior had rubbed off Kyouichii's back ever since she became a high school student.

(Savor the little freedom, Sachiko-chan. Soon, you'll be fulfilling your role in this great family.)

The first omiai between the Touma and Ogasawara proved to be a success, according to Kyouichii's standards. Ryu-san was trying his best to let his existence be known to poor Sachiko-chan—deviating a little of his restraint to be perfectly cordial and put a little show in front of two families struggling to tie a thin piece of red string. Kyouichii was very amused. Ryu was able to surprise him. Sachiko-chan was also the same—she was pale like she was seeing a ghost as she entertained the man and talk to him while he took his leave out of the room. Ryu used his easy-going way to excuse himself without breaching propriety and used this to talk to the girl.

So Ryu was not only interested with her—he was smitten.

Kyouichii would not disagree.

It is only a matter of time before Sachiko would leave the university and her little friendship with that bitch Fukuzawa would end. He would not tear them apart; Sa-chan would dirty her own hands to tear her little affair. She only needed a good push, a very convincing push.

Because Kyouichii knew her little granddaughter's weakness. She could have left the family years ago, when she was eighteen, to experience freedom as her right to do so, but she waited still. She could have been a terrible daughter and heir to the family, yet she tried her best to surpass expectations. She was not stupid to leave. In theory, she was keeping her little affair—her little diversion—with Fukuzawa a secret so that it would not ruin her reputation as the next heir to the family. She wanted immense power. Her every move was attuned with her plans to save a family member, the one closest to her blood and flesh.

(Savor freedom while it lasts.)

Sachiko-chan thought that she could leave the family behind for some woman she met in high school. No, she could not leave the family behind, not when she felt that her own family was not even complete in itself.

Kyouichii would start with Ryu.

Because the family is everything. It is everything.

Present Day

Murata was about to bring bad news. He being discovered by Kashiwagi's men were enough to anger Ogasawara Kyouichii, who was about to get a simple message from the Kinomoto compound. He had failed the mission, but the bulk of it was already accomplished. In fact, the time that he was about to be caught was the last day of his job before he could personally report. Ogasawara-sama would not be angry because of tardiness; he would because of the letter.

Murata was not supposed to be discovered, as well as the fact that he was the one who ordered it.

That green letter. It was already old, a little crumpled on the edges. The ink used to write the name of the sender was almost faded in time. Yet, Kashiwagi handed it to Shimata as if it were a heavy baggage. Murata could feel how reluctant Kashiwagi was in giving away the letter. Kinomoto—why was it very disturbing to deliver one from an extinct family? All members had died, and yet, a letter survived as a reminder of the family of great artists.

He was not expected by Ogasawara-sama. He stood in front of him, silently thinking of companies, private and public, that would accommodate him if ever he would lose his job. He even thought his savings in his bank account for the price of crimation. He already had a couple of back-up plans as he travelled from Kyoto to Tokyo, but still, he should take his chances here. After all, the pay is substantial, if not, very comforting. Therefore, he stood inside the great office, braving the cold stare that Ogasawara Kyouichii had given him.

"I don't expect you here."

He did not answer back.

"You are supposed to report to your superior, not to me." Kyouichii spoke lowly, showing discomfort by Murata's presence. "Well?"

"I came here to deliver this," he extracted the green letter from his breast pocket of his blazer. "Kashiwagi Suguru had discovered my presence in Kyoto and personally wants to meet you. So as not to harm myself, I should deliver this without fail."

Murata put the letter on the table, with the name of the sender visible. It was only a matter of time before he'd be fired.

Kyouichii stared at it, and for a moment, Murata detected a surge of surprise from the former's eyes. He remained oblivious to it, so as not to anger his employer. "Take your leave Murata."

"Yes, sir." He left the room. He was still alive. He planned now to report to his superior and see if he could negotiate in keeping his job.

He closed the double doors.

Inside, Ogasawara Kyouichii stared at the paper for a long time, assessing if he should or not throw this letter at once. Yet he knew to himself that he could not help but indulge to the past.

He knew it even before he instructed Murata Keichii to go to the Kinomoto compound to spy on its current owner and his little painter bitch. He grew too distracted—he kept on insisting to know everything that has been happening inside that compound. Now, the past was coming back, haunting him. He should have stayed away, just like he intended to do.

He took the letter gently. He straightened the creases of its sides with delicate, deliberate movement of his now brittle fingers, smoothing. He looked at the handwriting and imagined a porcelain hand emanating the smell of freshly made glue and smudged with glistening blue pigments—dried paint at the edges of the fingernails—to flex and straighten while handling a brush to write the kanji Kinomoto.

He knew by heart whose handwriting it was. Even though only the characters "Kinomoto" were there. No first names. His heart constricted as he visibly winced while touching the characters written upon the green envelope.

Setsuna. Kinomoto Setsuna.

It was her delicate brushwork.

How did Kashiwagi Suguru know? How? Should he meet him? What happened to Setsuna? Twenty-eight years have passed since he never heard of her. Did he know?

The family is everything. It is everything.

Ryu looked at Sachiko's sleeping face for the last hour since they were returned to bed. It was already very late but he could not find any means of dozing himself to sleep. As he looked her, he could not suppress his anger at the reality that he was denying ever since he met her: her mind and heart was not always here at home and they were always somewhere else, somewhere that she wished to be. He understood that he was careless not to look into her deeply and understandingly as a man should—he felt that he was not good enough. That there was something lacking in him that she would never be satisfied.

He did not dare look into her heart deeply, fearing of her rejection once he knew. Now, he did. Fukuzawa Yumi was the reason. Sachiko was still gripping into her past that she even had the nerve to fraternize with an ex behind her husband's back. But, how would he know the truth behind it? How could he understand if jealousy was clouding his judgement?

But how could he settle this turbulent feelings if he could not even find the courage to confront her with it? What if his judgment was wrong? What if she wanted to settle this matter by herself, without telling anyone? Why won't she tell him? Can't she trust him?

She won't betray him, will she?

He would try to understand, no, he would understand.

But he needed to hear from her mouth, and soon.

He needed to be calm about this. Never be agitated. He won't lose her. He won't give a chance.

All he needed was courage to hear the words from her mouth. A reassurance despite the trust that he would offer.

He pulled the sheets up to their necks. He fastened stray hair to her exposed ear, gently cupped a cheek, and said, "I love you, Sachiko."

He just put her arms above her middle and rested his forehead against hers, trying to scavenge a little warmth, not from the blanket covering them, but from her.

He did not expect an answer.

The very young Ogasawara Sachiko looked at her mother's eyes as the latter combed Sachiko's long black hair with her fingers. The little child's head was resting on her Sayako's lap, savoring the soft scrape of fingernails upon her scalp. She always enjoyed their quiet moments like this during bedtime, when Sachiko was about to go asleep. Sayako would tell her stories, mostly about princes, princesses, and witches. But after the lengthy and colorful narration of a fairy tale, when Sachiko was about to seize sleep, her mother would ask little Sachiko about little things like:

"Sachiko-chan, can you tell the difference between seeing and looking?"

". . . of hearing and listening?"

". . . of grieving and crying?"

In the midst of being asleep and awake, Sachiko would search her mother's eyes to look for the right answers Sayako was looking for her, but she found nothing. No answer at all. Instead, Sayako would focus her glistened dark eyes and smile to her daughter and then Sachiko's spirits would fly up the sky. Sachiko would sit up and search for answers from her mother's gaze but she would forget to answer as Sayako kissed both her cheeks and let Sachiko's head rest on her lap again.

In vain, Sachiko would think hard of the difference between seeing and looking, of hearing and listening, and of grieving and crying. Eventually, she would be lulled into sleep, as Sayako's fingers would once more reclaim Sachiko's long black tresses and caress her scalp.

(They are just the same, aren't they, Okaa-sama?!)

Every time they were alone in Sachiko's room, whenever Tooru was a away for business, Sayako would ask her one of those questions before going to sleep.

She woke up from her dream, noticing Ryu so close by—his hand resting on her cheeks. His hand was warm and so was the other, which was possessively encircled around her middle. Even with the darkness of the room and the scarce light emanated from the moon outside, she watched him as he slept, and she noticed creases upon his eyebrows—he was not sleeping well lately. She touched the tense part, and she noticed that Ryu uncontrollably hesitated, but gave in to the touch.

As she watched him sleep, she realized that she knew the answer to her mother's questions since she was a child still fascinated by fairy tales.

The women of the Ogasawara family are taught to know the answer to those questions.

After all, it was for the family.

TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: I know there are less and less interaction among the canon characters, but please give me time to sort things out. Maybe the reason I was stuck in a block was because I am still understanding the characters that I innovated. I hope you appreciated this chapter. Still tired of how this chapter turned out. I would love hearing from you readers, so please drop a line or two.