He’d received a gift from Shiki.
No—to be more precise, it had come from SHIKI.
Sitting on the tatami in his room, Ryōgi Minato turned the sword-tassel bell over in his hand, and found his thoughts drifting back to the end of that afternoon’s “date.”
—A gift?
—Mm.
On a date, apparently you’re supposed to give a little something as a keepsake.
That’s what everyone seems to say, at least.
—Then I should give you something in return, SHIKI.
Is there anything you’d like?
—There’s nothing I really want.
And you don’t need to give anything back—because I already received my own “gift” today.
—?
He hadn’t quite grasped what she meant by that.
But on the walk home afterward, the bright, almost boyish girl had slipped back into Ryōgi Shiki—the one who seemed indifferent to everything.
And so Minato never found the right moment to ask what those words had meant, and simply returned to his room.
Still—a gift.
It was the first he had ever received.
Whenever he wanted for anything material, life in the Ryōgi household meant servants were dispatched at once to see to it.
But a certain coolness ran in the family’s very blood; they did not, like ordinary households, make a point of deepening the bond between parent and child through presents.
And so the boy treasured this, his first gift in any meaningful sense.
He carefully tied the sword-tassel bell to the end of Yamato’s hilt.
Cupping the little brass bell where it hung in the air, his small palm closing loosely around it, he couldn’t help but smile.
His first “date,” his first gift… Today really was a day worth remembering.
Ding-a-ling—
…
Clang
A cold flash of blade cut through the air.
Steel met steel, and one of the swords spun off to the side, tumbling end over end before it landed on the dōjō floor with a clatter.
It was mid-November; the season had already deepened into late autumn.
[Hey, hey, hey—what’s going on?
Why’d it just skip a whole month?!]
[Don’t tell me King Crimson’s behind this!]
[Wh—stay away from me, aaah!]
[Quit overreacting, it’s probably just the normal time-skip fade every anime does.]
[If that’s it, then I missed a whole month of sugar?!
Damn it!]
[Relax, there’s plenty of time left—at Minato and Shiki-nee’s age, we’ve got loads more to feast on!]
The Transparent World in his sight faded back to normal.
Ryōgi Minato lowered the blade in his hand.
Across from him, the middle-aged man now stood empty-handed.
His sword had been knocked away earlier in the bout.
Even now the man could feel a faint numbness in his forearm, and it made him steal another few glances at the boy before him.
It seems my adopted son’s edge is a touch too keen today.
This was no bad thing.
If anything, it pleased him.
Stepping over to retrieve the fallen blade, the head of the Ryōgi family examined the nick that had appeared in it at some point and nodded, satisfied.
“Your progress is plain to see, Minato.
Before long I’ll have lost even the right to spar with you.”
His tone was full of quiet gratification; the man took genuine joy in the boy’s growth.
“Let’s end today’s bout here.
Going any further would mean little to you now.
You can arrange this part of your training yourself.”
He had taught all he could teach.
There was nothing more he could offer in the way of technique; what remained was only a measure of his own experience.
Yet just as he was about to leave the dōjō, the boy’s voice came from behind him.
“Chichiue-sama.”
“Mm.
Is something the matter, Minato?”
The head of the Ryōgi family turned.
His face, expressionless to begin with, gave off a perpetual air of severity.
“Chichiue-sama, I’d like to go away for a while.”
“For trips out, a word to Akitaka is enough.
There’s no need to come to me for permission.”
“It may take a month, perhaps two.”
The man’s brow furrowed before he realized it.
He studied the boy for several seconds before speaking again.
“Where will you go?”
“Misaki City.”
“You’re set on this?”
“Yes.”
The head of the family closed his eyes and fell silent, as if in thought.
After a moment he opened them again and spoke.
“Very well.
If you need anything, go straight to Akitaka.
He’ll see to everything.”
“Thank you, Chichiue-sama.”
Minato felt a small measure of relief.
After all, according to the danmaku, sometime around December that thing they called “Mahoyo” was supposed to begin.
And the woman he was looking for—one Aozaki Touko—would appear in Misaki City.
So he needed to make time to go to that city, find her, and ask after the whereabouts of Araya Souren.
Fortunately, his foster father had granted the request outright, sparing him a great deal of trouble.
Sliding the blade back into its sheath, the head of the family stopped just short of the dōjō doorway.
“Minato.
Is the reason you’re going… for Shiki’s sake?”
He hadn’t expected his foster father to ask such a thing so suddenly.
Minato paused—but there was nothing to hide, and so he nodded honestly.
“It is.”
“Mm… Take care of yourself, Minato.”
The taciturn man had, rarely, said a few words more than usual.
Then, blade in hand, he left the dōjō.
Ryōgi Minato gazed at the empty dōjō, the blade in his hand mirrored in his golden eyes.
“Please don’t worry, Chichiue-sama.
I will find that person, without fail.”
Out in the corridor, the man walked in silence, his thoughts seemingly still back in the dōjō.
A sword forever kept in its sheath can never become a true sword.
Has the time come at last—the unsheathing you once spoke of, Father…?
Remembering the old man who had passed away, a flicker of some other color surfaced in his normally still eyes.
Yet whether the moment of “unsheathing” had truly arrived, he could not say for certain.
He knew only that when the boy made his request just now, his eyes had been earnest, set with a certain resolve.
And that being so, how could he, as a father, possibly refuse?
…
Having settled on going to Misaki City, Minato left the dōjō and made his way to Shiki’s room.
He knocked lightly on the sliding screen and was let in.
Stepping inside, he found that this time it was not SHIKI but Ryōgi Shiki.
As always, she sat leaning against the screen’s frame, gazing out at the bamboo grove beyond.
The girl glanced back once, then paid him no further mind, speaking as if to herself.
“What is it?”
“I’m going away for a while, Shiki.”
The unexpected answer sent a ripple through the girl’s languid, hollow gaze.
Without thinking she gripped the sleeve of her yukata, though her tone still feigned indifference.
“How long?”
“A month, maybe two.
But I’ll be quick.
Once it’s done, I’ll come straight back.”
And what… does that have to do with me…
A restlessness rose slowly inside her.
Ryōgi Shiki had meant to blurt out exactly that—but by the time the words reached her lips, they had become something else.
“…I see.”
Ignoring the boy behind her now, Ryōgi Shiki forced her gaze to stay fixed on the bamboo outside.
Only when she heard him leave did she bite down on her lip, vexed.
In the end, she still couldn’t understand it at all.
This unease deep in her heart—what on earth was it…?