Epilogue: Sunset, Sunrise.
Posted: Wed Oct 05, 2022 6:56 am
The old man rode down the streets of Kyuden Bayushi in a palanquin. While samurai weren't meant to think much about wealth,the fact of the matter was, the old Bayushi was obscenely well-to-do, the patron of several successful eateries, and heavily benefiting from trade with the Isles of Silk and Spice besides. He had a network of money and information spanning the entire Empire, and while he had tried to keep a lower profile in his later years, the fact was, he was feared by anyone with even a tenuous grasp of economics.
He hadn't destroyed many who considered themselves powerful, but those who had earned his ire- a fellow Baysuhi who had sought to bully his wife, a Soshi governor who had tried to interfere with his daughter's marriage, a Yasuki who had tried to get his son into financial debt, a Kasuga whose schemes had threatened to blow his daughter's cover in a sensitive assignment, an Otomo who had attempted to seduce his eldest granddaughter- had all found that his cruelty could be as boundless as the sky, and his vengeance as implacable as the tides.
Which made his home a place most gave a wide berth these days. Best not to draw his attention.
Dismounting the palanquin, he walked into his house, nowhere near as spry as he had once been. The servants all bustled about, but he had learned to ignore it.
The house was painfully empty these days. Mikan had retired two years earlier, and while they had never been in love, he had to admit, he missed her company.
Chika and Tadashi visited whenever they could, of course, but between Clan duty and their own families, there just wasn't as much time as there used to be. Chika's eldest daughter had just given birth a month prior, and while that meant he was a great-grandfather, Choudai strongly suspected he'd never see the baby in the flesh.
He slept a lot these days, and every day, waking up was more of a chore.
Uncle Koga had held off on retiring longer than he probably should have... Choudai thought he had probably done the same. Ogoe and Shino had both retired years ago, Ayame was making plans to do so, and Ozaki's time as a sensei at the bushi school was drawing to a close.
But retirement means becoming a monk and fuck that.
It had a bit of his youthful fire to it, that thought, and it made him smile.
There was a letter from Chika waiting for him in his bedchamber, and he broke the seal with more enthusiasm than he'd felt for anything in a while. Seeing her address him as "father" always brought a smile to his face, and the letter- warm, informative, and proud of what her own children were achieving- soothed spiritual aches he hadn't realized he was feeling.
Everything is all right.
He could relax, whatever came. And he felt it coming.
His will was up to date, of course. His fortune would go to his children. To Hatsuki's children. Tadashi would pick up the business interests, and Chika had been running a lot of the spy network for the last five years with minimal oversight. They were ready.
He shuffled into the kitchen- one room no servant dared set foot in- and got to work making soup. Nothing fancy, just some miso.
Obachan's cookware was already bequeathed to Tadashi's third child. His granddaughter, Yukio, who had taken to his tutelage so well.
She's twelve now! Twelve!
He made sure he cleaned the kitchen fully, and then he went to the small private room. Mikan had taken her canvas with her when she'd retired, of course, so the room was a bit unbalanced.
His wall still bore its pieces, though. One, his old, original mask, repaired as kintsugi, the chubby cherubic features bisected with a line of gold. The second was a piece Hatsuki had painted for him, a simple painting of two foxes playing together. The third was a copy of Doji Nadeshiko's poem.
But it wasn't completed yet.
For the last time, Bayushi Choudai took off the avian-themed mask she had designed for him all of those years ago in the Painted City, and placed it before the wall.
His stiff joints made bending down to put it there a bit of a chore, and taking a seat facing the wall was a relief.
He breathed in.
Two young Crane came to the Painted City. nervous and unhappy. He tried to set them at ease.
He breathed out.
Meeting in the hedge maze, both of them knowing they should break it off, the thing that was beginning, but neither one able to.
In.
Stolen happiness in the middle of a war, living a lie the let them be honest.
Out.
Another town, another hedge maze. Both of them knowing that they couldn't have all they wished, but committed to it, and each other.
In.
The birth of their children, which he missed, and the first birthday, which he didn't.
Out.
Her face as he killed her, ending her life and saving her soul.
In.
Two crying children, and his future settling into place.
He held this breath for a moment.
Then out.
"I think I did all right. In a life with so many mistakes, I think I got the important stuff right."
He felt it coming on now. He was so, so tired. But that was all right. It was done. All done.
Bayushi Choudai closed his eyes, and let go.
He hadn't destroyed many who considered themselves powerful, but those who had earned his ire- a fellow Baysuhi who had sought to bully his wife, a Soshi governor who had tried to interfere with his daughter's marriage, a Yasuki who had tried to get his son into financial debt, a Kasuga whose schemes had threatened to blow his daughter's cover in a sensitive assignment, an Otomo who had attempted to seduce his eldest granddaughter- had all found that his cruelty could be as boundless as the sky, and his vengeance as implacable as the tides.
Which made his home a place most gave a wide berth these days. Best not to draw his attention.
Dismounting the palanquin, he walked into his house, nowhere near as spry as he had once been. The servants all bustled about, but he had learned to ignore it.
The house was painfully empty these days. Mikan had retired two years earlier, and while they had never been in love, he had to admit, he missed her company.
Chika and Tadashi visited whenever they could, of course, but between Clan duty and their own families, there just wasn't as much time as there used to be. Chika's eldest daughter had just given birth a month prior, and while that meant he was a great-grandfather, Choudai strongly suspected he'd never see the baby in the flesh.
He slept a lot these days, and every day, waking up was more of a chore.
Uncle Koga had held off on retiring longer than he probably should have... Choudai thought he had probably done the same. Ogoe and Shino had both retired years ago, Ayame was making plans to do so, and Ozaki's time as a sensei at the bushi school was drawing to a close.
But retirement means becoming a monk and fuck that.
It had a bit of his youthful fire to it, that thought, and it made him smile.
There was a letter from Chika waiting for him in his bedchamber, and he broke the seal with more enthusiasm than he'd felt for anything in a while. Seeing her address him as "father" always brought a smile to his face, and the letter- warm, informative, and proud of what her own children were achieving- soothed spiritual aches he hadn't realized he was feeling.
Everything is all right.
He could relax, whatever came. And he felt it coming.
His will was up to date, of course. His fortune would go to his children. To Hatsuki's children. Tadashi would pick up the business interests, and Chika had been running a lot of the spy network for the last five years with minimal oversight. They were ready.
He shuffled into the kitchen- one room no servant dared set foot in- and got to work making soup. Nothing fancy, just some miso.
Obachan's cookware was already bequeathed to Tadashi's third child. His granddaughter, Yukio, who had taken to his tutelage so well.
She's twelve now! Twelve!
He made sure he cleaned the kitchen fully, and then he went to the small private room. Mikan had taken her canvas with her when she'd retired, of course, so the room was a bit unbalanced.
His wall still bore its pieces, though. One, his old, original mask, repaired as kintsugi, the chubby cherubic features bisected with a line of gold. The second was a piece Hatsuki had painted for him, a simple painting of two foxes playing together. The third was a copy of Doji Nadeshiko's poem.
But it wasn't completed yet.
For the last time, Bayushi Choudai took off the avian-themed mask she had designed for him all of those years ago in the Painted City, and placed it before the wall.
His stiff joints made bending down to put it there a bit of a chore, and taking a seat facing the wall was a relief.
He breathed in.
Two young Crane came to the Painted City. nervous and unhappy. He tried to set them at ease.
He breathed out.
Meeting in the hedge maze, both of them knowing they should break it off, the thing that was beginning, but neither one able to.
In.
Stolen happiness in the middle of a war, living a lie the let them be honest.
Out.
Another town, another hedge maze. Both of them knowing that they couldn't have all they wished, but committed to it, and each other.
In.
The birth of their children, which he missed, and the first birthday, which he didn't.
Out.
Her face as he killed her, ending her life and saving her soul.
In.
Two crying children, and his future settling into place.
He held this breath for a moment.
Then out.
"I think I did all right. In a life with so many mistakes, I think I got the important stuff right."
He felt it coming on now. He was so, so tired. But that was all right. It was done. All done.
Bayushi Choudai closed his eyes, and let go.