𐔌.

Yosuke's obsession with Seiroku had always been unhealthy, but lately it had become impossible to ignore. Seiroku was dead, yet Yosuke continued to cling to his memory, his inventions and, most importantly, the dream they were supposed to have built together. To Yosuke, Kahachi was the one person standing between him and that dream—a younger brother who had inherited Seiroku's work and dared to carry it further. Every encounter between them therefore carried the same bitterness, with Yosuke treating Kahachi less like a rival and more like someone who had stolen something that had never belonged to him in the first place.Eventually, another confrontation between the two goes too far. What begins as another heated argument rapidly draws the attention of the people around them, and Yosuke's anger threatens to turn the situation into something far worse. Inako tries to intervene, while Kengo Kuga steps between them, attempting to de-escalate the situation before the enraged Mizoe boy and Kahachi attract the attention of half the village. Kengo knows that whatever their personal grievances are, making a scene here will only create more trouble.Then a strange sound cuts through the commotion.The clean metallic ring of a katana leaving its sheath.A woman has stepped out from the surrounding crowd.She wears nothing remarkable—only a simple, traditional kimono. Her expression is unreadable, almost indifferent to the chaos surrounding her. There is no warning, no speech and no visible hesitation.She simply walks forward.And with one swift movement, the blade flashes.A few strands of Yosuke's front bangs fall to the ground.The cut is so precise that for a second, nobody understands what has happened. Yosuke staggers backward, suddenly finding several steps of empty space between himself and the woman.Silence falls.The crowd recognizes her.Whispers spread almost immediately.Hotaru.The name means little to Kahachi at first.But then he notices her left sleeve.It hangs loosely beside her body, moving gently with the wind.There is nothing inside it.His eyes slowly travel upward.The woman's face is scarred across the left side, the remnants of old burns marking skin that must have been injured years ago. Her left eye is damaged, her expression stern and strangely familiar. And beneath the traditional clothing, there is something else that catches Kahachi completely off guard.Chestnut-brown hair.For one impossible moment, Kahachi thinks he is looking at Seiroku.Not quite Seiroku—but close enough to make his mind stumble.The resemblance is almost uncanny.Kengo experiences much the same shock. He has known Seiroku. He knows that face. Yet this is clearly a woman, older and hardened by years that Seiroku never lived to see.Neither he nor Kahachi had ever heard of a sister.Hotaru doesn't explain herself.She merely looks down at Yosuke, who has gone unusually quiet after realizing just how easily she could have struck somewhere far more dangerous than his hair.Then she sheathes her katana.Apparently satisfied that the conflict is over, she turns away and begins walking back through the crowd.She makes it only a few steps.Then—“Wait.”The voice is small.Unsteady.Hotaru stops.Kahachi is staring at her.Something inside him is pulling at memories he thought were long gone. A garden. A glimpse of someone beneath the trees. The sound of a sword being swung. Long hair disappearing around the corner. A distant figure he had once known without understanding who she was.His throat tightens.“...Who are you?”Hotaru remains with her back turned.For several seconds, she says nothing.Then Kahachi asks the question that makes her finally close her eyes.“Are you... my sister?”And for the first time since returning to the village, the woman who survived a war, lost an arm and learned to live with scars that never faded finds herself completely unprepared for what comes next.