"A plan to set fire to the entire Kyoto? How ridiculous!" Katsura-san exclaims, his face and voice betraying a rare lack of calm.

The men of Ishin Shishi are gathered in the long hall of the Okiya. Today, unlike other days, no one's attention is stolen by the Geishas.

"Ridiculous it may sound, but truth be told. With the Bakufu enforcing their power on Kyoto using the Shinsengumi, our control over Kyoto can be challenged very soon," Nakamura-san states with a completely calm voice.

Nakamura-san is from the Chōshū clan and works directly with the senior vassals of the Chōshū domain. His words cannot be taken lightly, nor can they be ignored. If he is saying this, several of the senior vassals of the Chōshū domain would be on it too, and perhaps the discussion has already gone quite deep. So, Nakamura-san is not asking for opinions, nor is he asking for suggestions. What he is doing is simply relaying it in a matter-of-fact way. The reason why Katsura-san is losing his calm is that he knows he has very little chance of convincing them otherwise, and even in the case he plans for gradual coercion to have them change the decision, it will probably be too late.

I stand in the corner of the room, my frame lightly leaning against the wall. There's a subtle dampness lingering in the air.

Perhaps it will rain again today.

Katsura-san, with a measured breath, indulges in a sip of sake from the ochoko. His voice usually pitched higher, now carries a calm undertone as he inquires,

"Is Saigō aware of this?"

"It appears so," Nakamura-san responds.

Katsura-san persists, "And?"

"What were his thoughts on the matter?"

This time, Nakamura-san draws a deep breath and admits,

"Well... much the same as yours."

"Outrageous," he says, quoting the sentiments of Saigo-san.

Katsura-san chuckles lightly upon hearing the response, as if he had anticipated such an answer. He remarks,

"I had expected as much."

"And..."

"Yet you intend to continue with that ridiculous plan of yours?"

Nakamura-san, devoid of any stress in his voice, replies,

"Saigo-san is from Satsuma. We can't have him make decisions for Choshu, can we?"

"Besides, what I am telling you is what Fukuhara-sama told me to relay to you."

Katsura-san locks eyes with Nakamura-san and inquires,

"It can't be just Fukuhara-sama who is thinking of this, right?"

Nakamura-san replies, "The answer would be what you are thinking. However, this may not be a place to discuss this further. There are those here who do not belong to Choshu."

An exceptionally rare expression of anger twists Katsura-san's face, and he forcefully slams his hand onto the low table. The Tokkuri tumbles, and the remaining Sake spills onto the tatami mat. He exclaims, "Every single person in this room at this moment is risking their lives to hold the ground, to keep us in power, and you are telling me we can't discuss this in front of them?"

I understand well enough that the "many" mostly point to the very few of us who do not belong to Choshu.

Katsura-san rises, the usual poise in his movement absent. As he begins to walk away, he declares, "Those who think that we hold complete trust of the emperor and absolute influence over the court..." He swallows the words he would have used if "those" in question had not been senior vassals of the Choshu domain and continues, "...are highly mistaken. This mistake will cost us more than what we can imagine." He completes his sentence, passing a silently sitting Nakamura-san and the rest. He slides open the Shoji door and walks away. The room remains silent until I stand up and walk out as well.

I can hear the sound of rain.

So, it is raining again.

As I stroll through the corridor, at its end, Katsura-san catches my eye, standing and staring at the floor lifelessly. As if anticipating my footsteps, without meeting my gaze, he utters,
"Himura."
"What did you think?"
I glance at his face for a moment, then avert my eyes and reply,
"Nothing."
"Except..."
"Battle with allies seems to be much more difficult than the battle with enemies."
"Makes me wonder whether Shinsengumi is indeed what we should be worried about now."

In response to that, I hear Katsura-san snickering and he says,
"That's how it is, isn't it?"

I look at him again and ask, "Should I escort you back?"
"No..." he responds, looking away for a moment,
"I will be with Ikumatsu."
I turn away and respond with a simple,
"Oh," then begin walking away.

As I step outside of the Okiya, I hear the rhythmic percussion of raindrops.
It is raining after all.

I stroll through the rain, a deliberate pace, a slow cadence. My mind dwells on nothing, just the rain, and beyond its veil, a faint trace of Hakubaiko.

I purposefully take my time, prolonging my return to Kohagiya. I attempt to dismiss the thought of why I move so deliberately slow, yet deep within, the answer lingers.

I desire to see her, yet I dread the emotions that stir within when our eyes meet. I am reluctant to unravel the intricacies of those feelings. As I approach Kohagiya, an unusual yearning competes with the inexplicable urge to turn and flee.

Her gaze bears no hesitation, unlike mine. It holds nothing for me.

Upon opening the door to Kohagiya, an unsettling stillness envelops me, as expected. The Shishis are likely dispersed across various meeting places. I acknowledge that it has surpassed midnight.

Standing before the shoji door, I sense no presence within. As the door slides open, the familiar aroma of Hakubaiko greets me.

I ponder where she could be, resisting the urge to delve too deeply into conjecture.

More than half an hour passes, and there is still no trace of her. The raindrops keep falling relentlessly, tirelessly.

I slowly walk out of my room and descend the stairs, looking around to find even the faintest trace of the woman. I traverse the long corridor.

On the path that connects to the garden, I see a faint shadow, and just by looking at that, I can tell who it is.

As I approach, I see her form from the back, with her face raised upwards to the sky. Getting closer, I smell the strong scent of Sake mixed with the scent of Hakubaiko. I wonder how much she must have drunk.

I draw near to her, realizing that she hasn't noticed my presence.

"Tomoe-san," I say, yet I receive no response. She has not noticed my presence.

"Tomoe-san," I repeat again. I notice that she still has not noticed.

I get a little closer to her and touch her arm softly with the tip of my fingers, sensing the coldness of her body.

How long has she been out here like this?

Finally, she tilts her head to look at me slightly; her eyes are so distant that it makes me realize there is a difference between looking and seeing. She is certainly looking at me, but I wonder if it is really me that she is seeing with those painfully beautiful and even more painfully distant eyes.

"You'll catch cold," I say.

She does not respond but blinks once. I find myself wondering what would happen if it were some other man, not me, who found her like this.

"You'll catch cold," I repeat again. She slowly tries to walk, but she stumbles. I catch her in my arms. As I hold her delicate form, pressed against mine, my thoughts are gone.

For a few passing moments, neither of us moves. Even the sensation of the pouring rain feels nonexistent.

I hear her voice speaking in an even softer than usual voice,
"Your body..."
"It's warm."
I feel a strange crawling sensation swiftly rush across my body. Keeping her body pressed against mine, she looks at me.

I look back at her. I really want to turn away; I do. Because I know that my heart rhythm is slightly erratic now. I wonder if she knows that.

She moves her hand and delicately traces the scar on my cheek with her fingertips, and in that moment, I sense a peculiar surge again, a pulse coursing through my body like a bewitching rhythm. She traces it all the way across and draws herself nearer to me, our lips hovering on the brink of contact, almost brushing against each other, our breaths becoming slightly, yet noticeably erratic. In an almost whispering voice, she says,

"It's hot."
"Your skin...even in this rain."

I find myself leaning into her slightly, my lips gently pressing against hers.

Cold and achingly soft, these sensations envelop me. How can something exist and still be so tender? It lingers for a moment. I gaze into her eyes, feeling the delicate touch of her long eyelashes against the skin of my face.

I lean again, and this time my lips press upon hers with a bit more intensity. I sense her body flinch, and my grip around her tightens.

In this moment, I come to understand how terrifying "desire" is. Internally, I regret my condescending view toward those men who lost themselves to emotions, succumbing to the depths of desire.

Is it because of my proximity to her that I can perceive her scent so strongly? Her fragrance, once again, deranges me.

I gently part my lips from hers, realizing that I should refrain and not go any further.

As I attempt to pull away, I notice her slightly parted lips and a glistening, soft tongue that I can scarcely see. I witness her lips moving slightly closer to mine, and it dawns upon me that this might be the boundary of my self-control.

My hand rests delicately upon her slender neck, and my lips, filled with desperate longing, collide fervently with hers—almost as if attempting to envelop and drown them. My tongue seeks entrance, pressing against hers.

Her grasp on my kimono tightens, and a gentle whimper escapes her. Utilizing my other hand, I draw her nearer, craving more of the intensified connection between our tongues.

The sensation is strange. The taste of her saliva, the texture of her tongue, the desperate interplay as our tongues intertwine—everything feels strange. It's as if I am dissolving into her. I sense the pulsating rhythm of my veins, and an intense tightness grips my chest, almost painful. Her grip on me tightens even more.
Gradually, I sense her tongue gliding over mine, her body leaning increasingly on me for support.

Time passes. I ponder how long we have been engaged in this, realizing I've lost all perception of time. I wonder if she, too, has lost her sense of time. Our lips part, and I realize we are both breathing unsteadily, heavily. She gazes at me with her half-dazed eyes and slowly attempts to separate. I reluctantly loosen my grip around her. The moment her body drifts away from mine, I recognize how much I yearn to hold her. She slowly retreats back into Kohagiya.

I follow her inside, across the corridor, up the stairs, and into the room.