Kanako slowly shut the cover of her small diary, looking at the hard, leather cover with the design of a black rose on it. A gift from her dead kaisho who, in the early years of her stay in the yakuza, had more than a passing interest in her. Of course, Kanako didn’t really show any interest other than business interests. She was too busy plotting his downfall; too busy collaborating with other groups, whether they are governments or other yakuza groups, she was in it for the money. Shinobu walked in the hospital room, bearing yet another single, long-stemmed, red rose. Kanako didn’t care though, she just wanted out of there. The overwhelmingly cheery attitude of the nurses, the excessive use of the color white, it just frustrated her to no end. There wasn’t a single decent shadow there for her to find comfort in and the nurses refused to let her close the curtains and turn off the lights. And yet, Shinobu’s brightness didn’t bother her at all. She didn’t even mind the fact that the roses were red, a color she hated. “I brought you some more flowers.” Shinobu smiled as she put it in the vase. Kanako wanted to say how much she disliked red roses, how it reminded her of the blood on her hands but didn’t. Shinobu had that effect on her, after all. Her arm still hurt and even though she was ambidextrous, it was still rather difficult and unnatural writing with her left hand. Kanako felt the silence, Shinobu had decided to do away with the usual greetings, that girl knew how Kanako felt. It was not dishonor, it was not bitterness over defeat and it really wasn’t even the desire for vengeance. In the end, after that battle, with two limbs broken, several internal injuries, one of her eyes temporarily blind and her entire body, for the time being, unable to defend itself, there was one thing that could describe Kanako now: broken. She was broken and Shinobu knew it. Not merely physically but inside as well. Motoko shattered that emotional armor of hers, an emotional armor that was cracked long ago by Shinobu. She sat there, a broken Kanako. “Thank you.” Kanako muttered. “Thank you? What for, Kanako-san?” Shinobu asked as she sat on the chair by Kanako’s bedside. “I saw you right before I passed out. You…saved me.” Shinobu remembered that moment. It was raining heavily, just outside Hinata Sou. It had been two days since Motoko’s arrival and the tempest of furies between Kanako and Motoko had flared up into violence again, despite Shinobu’s attempts to keep them down. These two hated each other and would have destroyed each other given the chance. She watched that battle on the balcony in horror, Kanako desperately trying to defend herself with her naginata against Motoko’s relentless battery of attacks. Shinobu watched as Motoko’s katana, swiftly moving in an upward stroke sent Kanako flying through a window, the shattering glass cutting her entire body. That same maneuver had made a diagonal cut running from Kanako’s forehead to just beside her upper lip. As Kanako was quickly losing blood, struggling to simply stand up, Shinobu ran, she knew she had to intervene before Motoko went too far. “Why is it? Why do you and Motoko-chan hate each other so much?” Shinobu asked shyly. “When I asked her, all she would say was that I should just stay away from you.” “Because she broke me…” Kanako said enigmatically as she rested her head. “…and I broke her. That’s why she hates me. That’s why we hate each other.” “I…I don’t understand.” “She hates me because, when you take away all the discipline, all honors, what you have isn’t Aoyama Motoko. What you have…is me.” Kanako said as she closed her eyes. “In the end, when you look past the masks that you all wore in Hinata Sou, you’ll see it, the reason why you all hated me. It’s because I represent just what you pray for every night never to become. I am Hinata Sou’s dark side, its evil.” There was an awkward silence following that. Shinobu knew what Kanako said was true for her. She feared, no, she hated the thought of becoming another Urashima Kanako. Yet, something inside her called out for the darkness that she represented. To take it into her arms, her heart, her soul and to unleash all those dark thoughts, the vengeance she longed to extract from the world. Kanako however, was always quick to scare her out of such things, a simple scowl, a slight smile and a foreboding stare that was all that was needed to assure Shinobu she was on the right side of the tracks. Kanako was a weary soul, wear of life, weary of the darkness, weary of being alone but she could not rest. She had to go on and whatever driving force was within her, it pushed her forward. But now, her face had an expression of hopelessness, an expression of grim acceptance. It was done; Motoko had broken Kanako’s spirit, her will to go on. “Shinobu-chan, please play that CD third from the bottom.” Kanako said as she moved to lie down on the bed, to get some rest. “It’s a collection of instrumental tracks that I liked over the years. Play the fourth track for me.” “Okay.” The first track seemed ironic to Shinobu as it played. The first few notes sounded almost like a song that would be used if a scene called for battle preparations. It was a battle theme, which she figured out in the first thirty seconds. It sounded so grim, so foreboding, so…vicious yet elegant. “Why this song? It seems so…intimidating.” “Liber Fatali…” that was all Kanako answered before she closed her eyes. As Shinobu stepped out of the hospital, intent on returning to Hinata Sou to oversee the renovation, as Kanako had requested, she saw her again. That long, black hair running along her back like an elegant cascade, those eyes that always seemed so contradictory, that unmistakable presence of subtle power. Aoyama Motoko stood there, in her old gi and hakama, sword at her side, a gentle softness on her face. Shinobu came closer, uncertain what to feel or think. This person had broken Kanako, a dear friend and perhaps even more but she could not deny the past she had with Motoko, no matter how short lived. Did she still have feelings for the samurai? Or did Motoko’s decision to leave her for the way of the sword destroy any that was left? As they approached, there was an uneasy touching of hands between the two for just a moment and Shinobu felt both her heart and Motoko’s skip several beats. Yes, the old feelings were still there. Shinobu still loved Motoko and Motoko still had feelings for Shinobu. “I…missed you, Shinobu-chan.” “I…missed you too.” Shinobu kept her head low as they got in the car. “Why do you hate her so much?” “You should just stay away from her. Nothing good will come out of being around her.” Motoko said coldly. “She is a plague. Everything she touches will wither and die.” “She…she said you hate her because she broke you. Because you know that she represents everything that you are afraid of becoming.” Shinobu said, pressing the issue. She was afraid of both Kanako and Motoko but she had to know. “Is it because of how she…touched you when she first arrived? Is that it? Motoko-chan, that was so long ago. You should just forget about it, it only happened once after all.” “This isn’t the way to your house.” Motoko noted. “We’re going to Hinata Sou. I’m sure Shirai and Haitani aren’t happy about the extra work your fight caused them.” Shinobu said, realizing Motoko was avoiding the previous topic. “Kanako-san will have to pay extra, I guess.” “Shinobu-chan…the reason why I hate Kanako-san…there’s something more to it.” Motoko suddenly said out of the blue, her eyes closed in light meditation. “It was so long ago; I almost forgot about it and only remembered my hatred…”
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