"Hey, Ohtori, did you know? I saw a new worker at the Captain's place. And what a babe she is; it's like the woman of my dreams just sprung to life, you know?"

"Ha, like Ohtori would care! He's got a wife at home, you know?"

"And I've told you that Shoukaku isn't my wife," Lieutenant Ohtori Kensaku shot his fellows a dirty look as they continued hauling the day's catch of sauries and other things down to the docks. Working in the fishery, surprisingly, didn't turn out to be as dull as he had thought—if only because of the frequent banter with his fellows, many of whom had served in the military like him.

"Like hell I would believe you," one of his friends laughed. "You two, you're living together. Under one roof."

"Look, I know it does look that way, but I don't think I could call her my wife."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever floats your boat, then," his other friend sneered good-naturedly. "Still, I'm jealous of you, man; you always look happy with her."

"I am," Ohtori cracked a smile; he couldn't help it. He would never deny that. Even now, she continued to occupy his thoughts—how she had eased back to her old self; coy, playful, kind-hearted. Only she had less baggage now, and he was always the happiest when they had nothing to worry about. Even if their living arrangement and the circumstances leading to it were unusual, he didn't care—just like she didn't care.

"Alright, boys—less talkin' and more workin'! Them fishes aren't going to haul themselves!" A throaty bark and the creak of the docks as a pair of heavy boots trampled against the mossy, barnacle-laden wood had the men shuddering and growing jumpy.

"Aye, aye, captain," all of them answered sheepishly at the sight of their leader approaching; they didn't delay hastening their pace after that.

"That's more like it," the Captain smiled behind his beard, and his features softened a little. "After you're done with that haul, you folks can rest. Someone from my wife's place is coming with lunch."

He waited for the resulting cheer to die down before his expression hardened again.

"But if I catch any of you trying to woo her or something like that and make her all uneasy, I will personally toss the guilty party overboard the next time we go to sea. She's like a daughter to me, so don't even think of doing that."

"Aye aye, cap'n," the men groaned—all but Ohtori, who just laughed discreetly. As much as he didn't like to draw amusement from his friends' distress, he couldn't help it. It was part of their peace, after all.


At the docks, Shoukaku was waiting, as Ohtori immediately noticed. She was carrying a bundle, and he didn't need to guess what was inside, whom it was for, or if it would earn him envious looks. He simply knew.

"Hey, Shou-chan, how come you never make us lunches too?" One of his friends whistled, and the others followed, some for longer. Ohtori had a mind to glare at them, but he didn't. If he did, they would've another excuse to make fun of him again.

And all things considered, Shoukaku didn't seem to mind. He was even sure she had a quip or two ready, seeing her smile and the way she wiggled her brows, and how she placed a finger on her lips.

"Oh? And here I thought you gentlemen have someone to do that for you."

Ohtori would've laughed at that if only he weren't facing the stares—incredulous and scandalized, as if he had betrayed them.

"Ohtori, you bastard."

"Not my wife, he says."

"I'm not gonna believe you anymore, traitor."

"Oy, oy," the Captain stepped in. "You guys will get yours soon enough, so cut them some slack."

"Just kidding, cap'n. We're actually happy for this fella here, you know?"

Ohtori winced from the hard slap to his back, which, for a time, had him doubting the sentiment. But seeing their earnest grin, that didn't last—and he grinned back.

"Thanks, guys."

"Heh. Well, I hope you're starving because she's about to be here, and by the looks of it, she's carrying a lot."

The group cheered as the person the Captain mentioned sauntered the roadside, and her features became clear. Some openly gawked when they saw her coming over, but Ohtori frowned. The lavender hair and the gentle, flowerlike visage seemed familiar, somehow. That woman was, without a doubt, a KANSEN; when he turned to Shoukaku to inquire if she knew her, he noticed she was beginning to shake. He caught the lunchbox she was carrying as it slipped off her hand. Shoukaku paid it no heed as she approached the woman, ignoring everything around her.

"Ho-Houshou-sensei…?"

The KANSEN, whom Shoukaku called Houshou, seemed to be as affected by the encounter, if not more so, Ohtori noted. But she did manage to hold onto the stacks of lunchboxes she was carrying before setting them down as Shoukaku caught up with her and promptly drew her into an embrace.

Ohtori couldn't see Shoukaku's face as she clung to Houshou, who held her back, but seeing how her body was quivering, it was easy to figure out.

"Well, uh, I guess we better leave 'em alone, Cap'n?" He heard one of them suggesting, exactly mirroring his thoughts.

"Yeah; move it, you lot. Go somewhere far. I'll bring your food there," the Captain ordered; the man nodded and scrambled. "You'll help me, though," he stopped Ohtori, who was about to follow after them.

Ohtori nodded, but not without wondering why the Captain would even need help carrying all that food.


Shoukaku didn't know how long she was keeping Houshou within her embrace, but she couldn't help but luxuriate in the comfort of being held in return, to have her mother-like hands rubbing and soothing her back. It had been too long, but she had never quite forgotten the sensation, yet it felt nice to be reminded of how uplifting it was.

"How I missed you…I thought…"

She dared not speak any further than that, and her hold became firmer.

"...I missed you too, Shoukaku…When was the last time I saw you and…Zuikaku? That was…before the war… wasn't it…?"

She could feel it. Houshou's pain as she spoke the name stung her heart like it did to her.

"But…I can't… I've failed. I'm sorry, Shoukaku—you…I can't…I don't deserve this, I can't…"

Shoukaku blanched as her beloved teacher—her mother figure—pushed her away; it hurt all the same, no matter how tender the way she did so. It hurt even more to see her being beset by such misplaced guilt; to see her wavering felt alien and harrowing.

Shoukaku wouldn't allow it anymore—for this kindest woman she had ever known, the person who had never thought ill of her even when others would, the person who would always have a smile for her, deserved all the happiness she could get just like she herself had.

"Houshou-sensei…please, don't speak of yourself like that. Even…all this time, I still treasure your teachings; keep them to heart. Dai-senpai taught me to walk tall with pride, but you taught me first to be kind the way you yourself are kind. That's why I can't bear to see you like this."

Once again, she drew Houshou closer to her, closer than before, and took comfort in how she didn't struggle and instead, like before, circled her arms around her.

"I'm happy now, sensei. I'm at peace. So don't worry about me. Zuikaku, too; I'm sure she'd be at peace if she could see me now. So let go of your guilt…like I did," Shoukaku whispered. "Because there's so much to live for, even in this little town…because our fight is over. Because this is your place, too, and you deserve all of it."

Shoukaku was dismayed when Houshou pulled away—but when she saw her lips turned upward, it felt alright.

"...You have grown wise, haven't you? Just like you wished before," Houshou let out a hushed laugh, her hand reaching forward toward Shoukaku's cheek. "It's admirable. And I cannot shake this feeling that you've been right all along. Thank you for opening my eyes, Shoukaku. For your sake…I will embrace this peace."

Shoukaku laughed along, taking the hand, and vowed not to let go for as long as she could

"For our sake, Houshou-sensei."


"Zui, look who's here. It's Houshou-sensei," sang Shoukaku as she knelt before the butsudan, Houshou following beside her, and lit a stick of incense.

Ohtori was considerate when she apologized to him for her baffling action, and he even urged her to do what she had been looking to do all along; she had earlier planned to help with preparations for the upcoming festival that night, but Shoukaku knew she had to bring Houshou here.

Houshou proved reluctant but relented when faced with a heartfelt pleading, and Shoukaku was thankful that part of her had not changed.

"Ah, hello…Zuikaku. It's…been long since I…I last saw you…When I sent…you both off to the front lines…swelling with pride…and fear. Fear…that you won't make it back. A lot of you… didn't. And then…when I found out that my…fear has become a reality… when I found out about your…fate…I was truly crushed."

Shoukaku shuffled away uncomfortably as Houshou's voice began to choke with elegiac emotions, and the pause between her words grew longer and stifling.

"But… you're watching us from where you are, right? Even when you're gone, my memory of you will remain, as is my pride for you…my daughter, for keeping fighting to the bitter end—for the sake of what you believed in. For those you loved."

Shoukaku watched as Houshou clapped both palms and bowed her head in reverence, then turned toward her with a small smile tempering her melancholy, rendering her almost breathless.

"And I'm proud of you too, my daughter…for the same reason…that, and more."

"And more…?" Shoukaku curled a brow, then chuckled. She probably shouldn't, but she did anyway.

"For seeking your own happiness when few dare."

"Oh," Shoukaku blinked as she reminisced about the times leading to her current circumstance. "It… wasn't easy," she confessed. One day she will open up to Houshou about it, but not today.

"But you persevered anyway, and that's worthy of a mother's pride."

Shoukaku laughed louder as she held Houshou again, her reciprocating the affections.


The waves were breaking on the shore gently, and the water's surface was like a cloudy mirror reflecting the stars, a million specks of light dancing along the current like floating lanterns. The scent of grilled food filled the breezy, nipping air, warmed so slightly by the fires. There was a faint sound of music being rehearsed.

Shoukaku had no idea how she looked after Houshou insisted on doing her hair right after they were finished with festival preparations—she said it would befit the festive mood more and that her hair was a tangled mess—but seeing the admiration of the watching women, she couldn't complain, embarrassing as it was.

"Thank you…mother," she muttered. Calling the woman mother now felt just rightfully natural and as easy as breathing. After all, she had seen her as one ever since Houshou took her and Zuikaku under her. "Though you shouldn't, really. It's troublesome for you, isn't it?"

"Of course not. It is a mother's privilege, you know."

"Houshou-san, can you do mine too?"

"Me too!"

"…I, I would like it as well."

Always so kind, Houshou did not turn them away. It was a pleasing sight to see people welcoming her so readily, Shoukaku mused—though she also felt a little jealous.

When the women had left to reunite with the others, Shoukaku found Houshou staring at the waters, her roving, distant gaze solemn but not morose as it went back and forth from the seas to the skies.

"Are you looking for something? A shooting star to make a wish, maybe?"

"Ah…? Oh, no. Not looking for anything…you believe in that, Shoukaku?"

"Well, no harm in that; someone told me before," Shoukaku laughed. "Should we go? The festival is starting."

"Yes, let's go."

They were about to set off when they noticed the crowd pausing and murmuring among themselves as they gazed skyward. It was just like the time when bombs fell, Shoukaku mused. But they were not in horror—they were awed by something instead.

As Shoukaku looked up, the gasps turned to cheer as a multitude of shooting stars darted across the sky like a shower, playing with the pitch-black darkness, leaving a faint trail of light that swiftly dispersed. Some broke into laughter, some were moved into tears, and Shoukaku could swear she overheard someone attempting to count them down before quickly giving up. And some probably were murmuring wishes she couldn't hear as she whispered her own.

"May there always be peace like this."

"That's a noble wish," Houshou remarked, getting Shoukaku to look at her.

"Aren't you going to make any?"

"Well, I don't know what else to wish about, not when I have my family back already. To wish more than that…wouldn't that be greedy?"

Seeing that look Houshou gave her and hearing her lighthearted giggle, and having her lightly stroking her hair, Shoukaku felt a sense of fulfillment—of completion more satiating than any grilled sauries, mushrooms, and chestnuts they would feast on tonight. It was enough to drive her into tears, and she drew a long breath.

"I remembered saying the same thing before on the Nihonbashi, on a night like this," Shoukaku recalled fondly, "that I've nothing to wish for, but then Ohtori, he told me it's never too late to go searching. Whether I've got a wish long forgotten somewhere out there or none at all, I should look for it; that stirred a desire within me to find out…how fitting that such a conviction was born on the bridge of beginnings."

"And I'm glad you did," Houshou pointed out, "and also because you have each other."

Though she never tried to hide their relationship, Shoukaku blushed anyway, but she was happier to be reassured like that than embarrassed.

"Ah...then, I do have a wish, after all. A wish from a mother to her child," Houshou went on as the stars continued to shower the world, her glistening eyes also gleaming, "that she and that person she holds dear will always be there for the other—and to be happy evermore."

Shoukaku wasn't sure if Houshou asked of that to the stars or to her, but either way, it renewed the resolve to keep the promise she made to Zuikaku long ago. And though she didn't ask, Shoukaku vowed that Houshou would be part of it too. She will always be there for her, and then her sorrows will be no more.

"Thank you, Mother."


"Oh hey," Ohtori waved as Shoukaku approached. "Did you see that star shower? Magnificent, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, it is," Shoukaku replied as she sat beside him and heaved a content sigh. "Really takes you back, hm?"

"Ahaha, so you still remember that?"

"How could I not? That was when I vowed to try looking for my happiness instead of things to worry about until finally, I found it…with you."

Shoukaku realized there was still a distance between them and inched closer until she could feel his body warmth and rested her head on his shoulder, just as she liked to do.

"Ah…of course… That's…good; I'm happy," Ohtori stammered. Shoukaku took pleasure from how she could always leave him abashed, even to this day, by saying such things. Like he had never heard of them before.

"Where's Houshou-san, by the way?" Ohtori looked around after a moment's silence. He thought Shoukaku would be sticking with her, judging from how she reacted to meeting her again. Not that he would object. Seeing her so elated to meet someone so important was worth being left alone.

"Oh, she is helping the Captain's wife with provisions. Turns out he used to be her commanding officer. Small world, don't you think?"

"So I heard. The Captain told me earlier. And...well, well, um, if you want to be with her, go ahead, don't mind me. I mean, I can tell how much you missed her."

Shoukaku didn't budge, and instead, Ohtori found her looking straight into his eyes and holding onto the sleeve of his coat, leaving him shuddering.

"Well, in that case, you should come along because I think it's about time I introduce you properly to my mother," Shoukaku smiled as she let go and rose. She giggled as she spun to face him and saw how stunned and confounded he was.

"Uh, mother…? Uh, sure…but why…?"

"Because she must know who my husband is, you know?" Shoukaku made sure to stress that part, and not only because she liked the sound of it.

Ohtori buried his heated face into his palms as he remembered the conversation with his friends, how he denied that she was his wife—only for her to claim the opposite now. And he couldn't even tell if she was being playful or not.

"Shoukaku, are you…serious about this?"

She met the query not, as he had expected, with her usual smirk but a gentle smile.

"I do. Don't worry; she will hear all the wonderful things I know of you and will surely approve. After all, she already promised me she would prepare sekihan to celebrate."

Ohtori let out a muted laugh at how they had it all backward—but to Shoukaku, it probably mattered little. She was just that happy to care about small things, a far cry from her past self. That was probably the reason why he could no longer feel the lingering reservations he had about everything. Now that he thought about it—not embracing it would be foolish.

Standing up and taking her hand, he took time to delight in how her face brightened, her star-like eyes shining with rapturous light. And when they walked, he felt as if they could soar above everything else.

He realized it was just fitting to crack up from that intoxicating feeling. Besides, Shoukaku did so first.