As the days grew short and the air grew chill, a spirit of grim restlessness descended over the residents of Shurei’s court. More than two years had passed since they’d made the journey east. The feat had been so arduous and costly that for the first year it was fair to say they’d had no strength or energy to worry. Rest to them had been paramount. As the honored guests of Edo castle, they had enjoyed a life of leisure and plenty exceeding all expectation.

In the companionship of Kohaku and his family, Shurei’s heart had healed from the loss of her baby. She, her kinswomen and the children had recovered from the worst of their harrowing ordeal. Kouta and his kinsmen had set up shop in the city, establishing the beginnings of what were already proving to be lucrative enterprises. The whores were thriving in their new brothel houses, and even old Captain Sanada and his men had found places for themselves in the palace guard.

Friendships had been forged. Family ties both old and new had been cemented. In the blessed east, the travelers from the west had found a reprieve from their trials, and renewed hope for the future.

Yet for all this there was a pall over their happiness. A sense of unease which in their hearts they could not shake. Between their own hardships that first year and the news of bloody war in the west, it was not distressing at first that their letters home had gone unanswered. But as word of peace spread eastward, as the names of the victors became established far and wide, the refugees’ misgivings grew. Why now, in the wake of war and its adversities, had they received no replies?

As time wore on, their doubts took fiendish shape in this silence.

What fate had befallen the home they’d left behind?

Once again, Kouta and his kin were divided. To them, Edo was now their home. After all the risks they’d taken to venture here, after all the suffering they’d endured along the way, no one could blame them for this way of thinking—Kouta least of all. But as the eldest son and heir, his sense of duty to his clan prevailed. 

“I must return,” he said to Shurei, “before the snows set in.”

Her eyes began to mist. “You say ‘I’, Kouta-kun, but it’s ‘we,’ isn’t it?”

“No,” he replied, frowning away. “That isn’t for me to say.”

Snatching up Ieyasu where he played, Shurei fled the room in tears. Sparing her son-in-law an empathetic glance, Sumire followed after. While her daughter held to Ieyasu and wept, Sumire trailed her fingers through Shurei’s shining dark hair.

“He would not tear you from the family you know here to seek after the uncertain fortunes of his own. Your husband is a kind and thoughtful man.”

“I know,” Shurei sniffed. “But it would be kinder of him not to give me the choice. Oh, Mother, what choice is there?” Miserably, she gazed down at the boy whose somber dark eyes peered back into hers. “Kouta-kun is my family.”

And so it was decided that Shurei and her children would go with him. This decision saddened the hearts of many, though few did it move. Small as the east-going party had been, it was clear the party going west would be smaller yet.

“And you, Sumire,” Kohaku asked against her naked shoulder, “what will you do?”

Sitting under the blanket with him, she gazed out through the window at the encroaching dawn. In the west, the lightening skies were still so very grey. She shifted in the warmth of his arms, not wishing to leave them, yet knowing that she should.

“What would you have me do, my lord?”

“Stay here,” he answered at once, as she looked to him, “with me.”

Sumire closed her eyes. Whether to him or to the world beyond them, she could not say.

Even as the day of departure arrived, her heart and mind remained torn. 

At the palace gate, Kouta, Shurei and the children said their tearful goodbyes to all. At last, Shurei bid farewell to her father, her half-brothers. Ieyasu, who did not understand. Taken from her arms, he wailed for his foster mother so heart-wrenchingly that she sank her teeth into the side of her hand as she tore her red-rimmed eyes away. Heavily pregnant and blaming her own ceaseless sobbing on it, Reiko clung just as plaintively to Shurei, whose own despair seemed to lessen as she comforted her distraught half-sister.

As the horses and wagons were readied, Sumire approached Kohaku. Beneath the glinting skeleton of a maple tree he stood with arms crossed. The look in his eyes was hard and bitter as black frost.

“You are leaving then,” he said.

Sumire inclined her head. “I am, my lord, though I hoped you wouldn’t resent me for it.”

“I hoped you would have heeded my wishes.”

“She is my only child. Her children are my only grandchildren.”

“If they were your only reason, I wouldn’t begrudge you. But it’s that place, isn’t it? That old prison of yours. You prefer its cold company to mine, and wonder that I should resent you for it.” Kohaku glanced away in contempt. “Such senselessness. But there’s no point in trying to convince you. I can see in your eyes how anxious you are to return to it. I can see the hold it has on you still. Your body is here, but your thoughts have never left it. The real prison is in your mind.”

Sumire crooked a smile. “Perhaps the only real ones are.” As he glowered aside, she touched a hand to his arm. “Please, Kohaku, let us not part ways like this.”

The warlord’s eyes returned to her. His stern features softened, as if in defeat.

“Goodbye, Sumire.”

“Goodbye, Kohaku.”

There was a finality in this parting unlike any before. As her touch fell from him, she knew with surreal certainty that it was for the last. The chill she felt in his absence wove its icy tendrils through her heart, as she stepped away from him and rejoined her daughter at the gate.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Rough week for me, just feeling totally wiped-out. Anyway, TGIF 🙂 Have a great weekend, y’all 💕

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