Shards, Part I

Winter

The cheek burned feverishly after the strike.

“You are not trying hard enough, son. Your every failure brings shame on me. You are my firstborn, the future of this family. Dare not ever betray my expectations.”

The boy resisted rubbing the pain off.

“I will work harder, father.”

Spring

“My colleague's report says in Pokau you dismantled questionable operations formally under Unicorn patronage, but effectively ascribed to... another faction.”

“I worked toward that end, Shosuro-sama.”

“Elaborate ‘dismantled’.”

“Secured confessions on illicitness of the activities, convinced the Unicorn to disassociate themselves under threat of exposure, physically removed the most ardent supporters of that faction in the network, convinced the others to switch patronages, prepared for the inevitable violent reaction, and prevailed. I do not consider the matter solved though, Shosuro-sama.”

“Your considerations are no longer consequential in this regard. What of the requisitioned resources?”

“They were liquefied in the market and supported the budget of the office.”

“In entirety?”

“After conventional deduction of small operational costs.”

The stern magistrate smiled scantly underneath his mask, and slowly rolled back the scroll, protracting silence. Finally, he spoke.

“Welcome to the ruin of City of Stories, Soshi Junnosuke-yoriki. Assume your duties tomorrow.”

“I am ready today, Shosuro-sama.”

“Ah, so eager?”

“Ruined or not, I was told this city never rests. Why should I?”

The magistrate studied the single-minded resolve in facial features of his new yoriki. He liked what he saw, but scorned young Soshi nonetheless.

“Because I order so. This is the only reason you’ll ever need.”

Summer

Junnosuke shook off the blood from his blade. He impassively watched the smuggler's agony, as the red puddle from severed limb mingled with the filth of the docks, the ferric scent with the pervasive odour of urine and rotten fish, the dying man's pathetic wailing with the bustle of reconstruction. Junnosuke waited until the very end before sheathing katana.

“This is what happens to those who steal from the Scorpion.”

He warned the onlookers, and left the body for the eta.

Autumn

As they were tensely waiting, the little girl was looking up on her father with bewilderment. She had the keen eyes of her mother, and so she noticed that his usual composure was not in place. The discovery that something could do this to the creaseless bronze of her father's resolve was so unsettling, that she forced it out of her mind by hugging his leg. Right after she felt the comforting touch of her father's knowing hand on her head, and the restlessness ebbed.

Then the screen slid ajar and the old midwife crept through the opening, sweat on her forehead yet unwiped, and accumulating. She bowed low to Junnosuke, who lifted his little daughter into his arms.

“Speak.”

“My lord, there were difficulties...”

The midwife instantly regretted using this expression.

“But both are well now... if in need of rest.”, she was very quick to add before the man’s anger could substantiate.

The man’s expression may have shed its threatening qualities, but remained tense. The midwife fell into full prostration.

“My lord, it is a... girl.”, she finally managed to say, expecting fate of a bearer of ill tidings.

It did not come.

Junnosuke kissed his daughter's forehead, smiling.

“Do you want to see your beautiful little sister, Haru-chan?”, he asked in light tone.

“Yes, father!”, the girl exclaimed joyfully, happy beyond measure that everything in her little world was well again.

“Then let's pay them a visit.”

Winter

Aki did not recall any other moment like this. She remembered watching first snow before, but never with her father sitting calm next to her, not rushing anywhere. Mother and Haru had been visiting family in Shiro no Shosuro and promised her to bring souvenirs from the Painted City, but the perspective of new dolls somehow paled when compared to this unique, fleeting while. Not least because she adored snowflakes. She let her mouth agape entranced by the revelry as she witnessed them descending on their small garden.

“Father...?”

“Yes, Aki-chan?”

“Haru told me that I can take new name when I grow up.”

“This is true.”

“What was yours?”

“Ichiro.”

“Lots of boys have this name.”

“This is the way of things.”

She bit on her lip, very thoughtful. Junnosuke suppressed a laugh. Haru may have inherited his wife's grace and talents, but it was Aki who took after in her spontaneity, curiosity, courage and sensitivity to beauty in small things, the very features he was made intimate to once their marriage evolved into something beyond a social contract. The very features he had discovered loving.

“What does your name mean, father?”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

He took nearby rakes, leaned from the veranda and with the tip of the pole he drew very classical, proportional kanji in the fresh snow. Aki was not exactly approving of her father destroying the soft cover of perfect white, but she was eager to learn and so obediently followed him, peeking from behind on the lines.

“Together, they stand for obedient service.”

“Ah.”

She trod carefully around them, studying.

“It is a very serious name, father. Do all adult names have to be so serious?”

“They should reflect something important for you, or about you.”

“Ah. And it doesn’t matter that I was born in autumn?”

“It does not have to matter.”

Aki fell into deep thoughtfulness.

“Will snowflakes do? I love them. They are like flowers, just more perfect. Not tied to earth, able to dance and fly far. They are small but complicated, just like what mother tells I am. And together they can make a huge avalanche that cannot be stopped!”

She beamed on her father, proud of her iron logic. Junnosuke chuckled, the chuckle uncontrollably turning into a cough. Aki was too excited to notice.

“Avalanche is a good name for you, Aki-chan. Your mother told me you cannot be stopped in taking sweets from your sister.”

Aki blushed.

“She shares them with me...”

“Even if she does, eating them all will make you look like a snowman. Come, you’ll have some proper dinner and hot tea. It’s almost time.”

Aki said nothing. She cast her eyes down and stood in stubborn rejection, to becoming a snowman, to him leaving... Junnosuke sighed. He took the rakes once again.

“Sekka is a beautiful name, Aki-chan. Your mother will be happy if this is your choice when the day comes.”

Aki looked up curiously, and with satisfaction that her little emotional blackmail worked. She then watched the kanji appearing in the snow, making an effort to memorise the strokes.

“And you, father? Will you be happy too?”

He took her off the ground, into his arms.

“I will.”

Spring

The jeweller eyed Junnosuke pleadingly.

“My lord, I understand the security concerns, but this cargo, while precious, poses no threat.”

“It shall be determined independently of your assurances by means of inspection. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, my lord? By morning there will be nothing to unload...!”

The craftsman pulled on his hair from growing panic. He was picturing a fireman gang looting his cargo in the night, on a leak from this or some other yoriki with whom they would share the spoils.

“Your trouble is your own. The procedures apply because your suppliers are questionable, and cargo rosters do not contain enough data to calculate the tax.”

“But I make jewellery for important people!”

Junnosuke stepped toward the man.

“I may have misheard what you just said. Repeat.”

“My lord... I...”

The man prostrated.

“I believe you said you make jewellery for important people. Was it a suggestion that I should stay away because of your connections, heimin?”

“Of course not, yoriki-sama...!”

“On the contrary, I think this is exactly what you were implying. Do you disagree?”

The jeweller remained silent.

“I changed my mind. This cargo needs priority treatment. I will thoroughly inspect it today.”

Junnosuke’s insidiously officious tone sent shivers down the heimin’s spine. He gulped, feeling between a rock and a hard place.

“I... I... am grateful, my lord, for your magnanimity. Is there a way I can show my gratitude?”

The yoriki straightened a wrinkle on his sleeve.

“Yes. I will follow the example of those important people and place an order at your workshop. A netsuke, diamonds and silver. Roughly of this design.”

He produced a piece of paper with a drawing. The craftsman got to his knees, relieved of being offered a way out. He looked at the drawing and nodded in understanding.

“I am gratified by your confidence in me, yoriki-sama. I will make it one of my finest works.”

“Make sure you will.”