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Coming back to the house after nearly a week away brought a bittersweetness with it. Koji bounded over, yanking free of one of the girls, the moment he saw me. I hugged him, muddy paws and all. Kwan was given no reprieve either, with Syaoran taking brisk steps to report in on several matters. It was hard to believe how much still demanded his attention when we weren’t even away from the mountain and only a short time.
I fell into my old roll, going to fetch tea to bring to our room. He was already sitting among paperwork when I brought up the kettle, and didn’t look away as I set everything and poured him a cup. Putting our things away, he stayed engrossed in looking over the papers and shuffling them in some meticulous order.
Even though his face was always stoic, it somehow looked more serious. Rather than take something to occupy my time, I moved to sit beside him.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
Several rapid blinks later, pulled from thoughts to understand what I’d said, he shifted his gaze to me.
“There has to be something I can do—rather than sit and idle myself with embroidery and tea.”
He studied me a minute. “They’re complicated matters. Most of them anyway.”
“Shouldn’t I learn these things so I can be useful to my husband?” I insisted.
His start of a smile appeared, seeming to approve. Sharing his work, he explained to me the matter of each issue and how he thought to resolve it. Taxes, the state of the lands in his domain, reports of failed harvests (or underperforming ones), cases of illnesses since the closing of last summer, possible blights, status of metallurgy, textiles, artisan crafts, and commerce were among the things needing attention annually.
If I came across an unfamiliar word in reading things over, Kwan relayed it and its meaning, and I worked to commit it to memory. He wasn’t lying about the complexity of it all. On the rare occasion when I could provide some sort of insight, he took it into consideration. I didn’t try to say more than I knew, lest it hurt Kwan and the villages around the mountain.
Through all the documentation, I gained a better idea of important matters for my family as well. Notably, I learned the usual routs of furriers and merchants. When I absently made mention of needing to remember to stock my brothers with pickling jars, Kwan stopped his work. A moment passed, his watch on me as he conducted a series of silent decisions. With a gesture, more from his stationery glided to him, and he started a separate note. Unable to help myself, I leaned over to look.
He was sending for the jars. I opened my mouth to argue.
“You said you wanted to be sure your family would be well taken care of, did you not?”
I heaved a sigh. It was the fault of lingering pride on my part, and I knew it. We’d always relied on fair exchanges in the village, and were naturally wary of outside help.
“I’d make for a careless son-in-law if I neglected my wife’s family. And I doubt your father would approve of a careless man asking to marry his daughter.”
My heart warmed, picking up its rhythm, and my smile spread.
“You’ll take Saburo when you go down the mountain.”
“Saburo? Why?”
“It would grieve me to see my Hisa having to carry so much, and the trek is long. What will I do if a missed step caused injury or worse?”
I knew he was partly teasing, but it did make sense.
“And I don’t think Saburo would forgive me if I sent you on with anyone else. He’s that fond of you.”
“As I am of him,” I said happily. “From the day I met him, he seemed like the most noble stallion.”
“Do you say things like that to him?”
I nodded.
“Explains why he’s endeared to you.”
“Kwan is not endeared to me?”
He locked eyes with me, hinting amusement. “I will always be endeared to my wife.”
“Yes, but are you not endeared to me?”
A slow blink, his expression held. “Always.”
I rested my cheek on his shoulder, savoring my victory.
“I won’t go down the mountain when you leave,” said Kwan. “Whatever you need to attend, I won’t interfere.”
It made me sad, but I understood. “I’ll try not be long,” I promised, pressing myself closer against him.
“Is there anything else you want to take home?”
“There is, but he has to stay in his house on the mountain.”
For that, I was shortly rewarded with a kiss to my hairline.
“I worry about how they’ll fair in winter,” I confessed. “I used to pickle as much as we had supplies for, and weave whatever I could manage, or exchange for something I wasn’t skilled enough to make. I’d keep watch on dry stock, and firewood, but my brothers took the bulk of that labor.”
He directed his ink brush with precision, jotting down more to list.
“Stop,” I said, playfully reaching out. “Poor Saburo will be too weighed down.”
****
As the day of my return home drew closer, I wished for summer to slow down. My favorite days became the rainiest ones, where there was nothing to do but listen to the symphony from the sky clattering, and keep in each other’s company.
In three days, I would leave for my village.
Kwan teased that we shouldn’t have sex until I returned, so that I would miss him all the more and want to return sooner. Undeterred, I took the initiative more than once. There was a sense of liberation when I did, and a look of intrigue in Kwan’s expression. He reveled in the strength of my legs as I straddled him, and took a curiousness as I decided how to guide his hands. While I did enjoy making things go on my own terms, I still preferred when he led. I didn’t feel nearly so clumsy when he assumed control; and, it allowed me to play in reversing our roles just to surprise him when I wanted.
“You’ll forget me,” said Kwan, playing with the ends of my hair.
“No, I won’t. If anything, you’ll get tired of waiting and forget about me.”
“I could never forget you, Hisa,” said Kwan. “It’s impossible. I will miss you too much.”
“I won’t miss you much?”
He shrugged. “I still think you might remember a simpler life, and not want to return.”
“I will return,” I said, final. “You’re my Kwan.”
His arms embraced me as he took a deep, sleep-filled breath. “And you’re my Hisa.”
We stayed like that a while. Then, he seemed to get an idea, looking into my eyes with silent mischief.
Reaching over me, he grabbed at the red, silken lace he’d once tied my hair with. The one I often used when I braided my hair.
“Give me your hand.”
My eyes looked between him and the thread, and my expression twisted as I held in an unceremonious giggle. Curious, I obeyed.
Kwan tied an end around one of my fingers, and the other to one of his own. “I dislike the idea of destiny. It implies things were inevitable, no matter what one does in life.”
I started to catch on. “So, we take fate into our own hands?”
He nodded. “Fated or not, I choose you, Hisa. If I had to endure every sorrow all over again, to be with you, I would.”
I brushed my nose against his, planting a quick and gentle touch of my lips to him.
“When you come back, I’ll make a proper proposal, and go to ask your father for his blessing.”
“You know my answer already,” I said, smiling.
Slow, he brought me into another strong embrace. And I did likewise. We broke the thread, vowing to mend it on my return. To forge our fate, rather than leaving it to the stars and moon.
****
The morning of my leave, and part of me resisted. Saburo was saddled and anxious. He looked a bit silly, a kingly stallion now a pack-horse. Kwan helped me up, exchanging a few last words.
“Take this as well.” Discrete, he handed me the puzzle box.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I whispered.
“You have my trust,” said Kwan. “And, if you decide you’d rather not return, let Saburo bring it back. I will know your answer that way.”
“I am coming back,” I said, half laughing.
He looked into my eyes, gentle in his expression. “I love you, Hisa.”
“I love you too, Kwan,” I said, leaning down to kiss him. “With all my heart.”
“With all my soul.”
I hurried to tuck away the puzzle box, making sure it’d stay secure.
Lin brought over Koji, saying her own farewell to the dog. Likewise, Kwan patted the dog, bidding he look after me in his stead. There was something odd about it, amusing me, though I couldn’t quite place what it was that made me think so. Kwan stood, and Lin handed off the leash.
“I will wait for you,” said Kwan, fingers lightly fiddling with the ends of my sleeve.
“You won’t wait long,” I said, holding up the thread around my finger. “I promise.”
We trotted off, the voices of everyone at the house fading as we went. Somehow, it felt a great deal longer of a journey than the night I ran up. Though that was five years ago now.
I was eager to see my family, to show off all that I’d learned, to tell them all my stories, but I dreaded it at the same time. It was hard to believe how much had changed.
Hours passed, and I thought it more impossible how I could’ve made such distance that night. When the red gate came into view, I sighed my relief. It was still early in the afternoon, and I was almost home. Passing through, an odd feeling swept over me. Not magic, but something. I couldn’t explain it.
As we entered the village, I smiled bright. It was exactly as I remembered it. Except for the men who stopped to gawk at me as we passed. Uncomfortable, I cued Saburo to hasten his pace, with Koji barking behind as he followed.
It wasn’t quite evening when I reached my home, taking the conventional route, but the sun hung low in the sky. My father emerged from our house, perplexed at first as I dismounted. I felt awkward, realizing how I must’ve looked in my riding clothes and braided hair. When he recognized me, he hurried to come to me, dropping everything to put his arms wide. I did likewise, meeting him part way for a tight embrace.
“You’re back. You’re home,” said father, over and over in a joyous weep.
“I’m home,” I said in return, unable to stop my own tears. When we did let go of each other, father gave me a look over.
“So much like your mother. We missed you so much, Hisa.”
“I missed you too, Baba,” I said, bringing him in for another hug.
Parting, he noticed Saburo standing patiently. “What’s all this?”
“Gifts,” I said. “To help make life a little easier. Store jars, heavy bedding, and supplies so I can teach you all to read. We can better negotiate with merchants that way.”
He didn’t look impressed.
“By the end, I was more guest than prisoner to him.”
My father turned to me then, assessing. “What they say in the village. I refuse it. I don’t care what they want to believe.”
“Fumei told me,” I said. “Heaven only knows how or why that rumor was spread.”
He hesitated before nodding, taking my hand for assurance.
“Help me bring this inside?”
Barking. Koji stumbled on a napping goose and took its threatening hiss to mean play. I laughed, explaining to my father that this was my dog and eagerly showed off his obedience. It took a moment to get his attention, but he became a disciplined creature once he realized I called for him.
It felt strange to walk in my family’s house again, as though I didn’t belong there anymore.
Not long into unpacking, Hisato came home from hunting, calling for father and asking about the horse grazing just outside. He stopped when he saw me, frozen and wide-eyed. I stood awkwardly, not knowing how to break the tension—if I should speak familiarly, pretending I’d never left, or if there was something important I should say. We seemed not to recognize each other at first. How different we looked after five years.
Hisato set down the fowl he’d caught, taking a hesitant step, then another, until his feet carried him brisk to me. His arms wrapped tight around me, and mine to him. My face hidden in his shirt, I heard my twin brother weep.
“I thought I’d lost you,” said Hisato.
I shook my head.
“That I’d good as killed my sister.”
“You didn’t,” I said, pushing away to look up at him. He was taller than me now, and not just by a little. But he was skinnier too.
“I never forgave myself for that day.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I cooed. “Even if the outcome wasn’t so happy, and I knew it, I’d still run up the mountain to protect my brother.”
He brought me back into a snug embrace. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Into the eve, as I prepared supper, Raeden and Kenta came home from the fields. Like Hisato and father, they stopped, seeing a stranger—a ghost. Raeden was the first to drop his tools, abandoning all thought of removing his shoes as he ran up to take me into his arms. Kenta approached with more control, refraining from explosive gestures. So I hugged him first, at ease after he returned it; soft, slow, and powerful, he held me firm against him.
I didn’t have much to work with come supper, already going into what Kwan had sent with me for spices and dried goods, but we ate heartily. Questions flooded in between bites, making me smile as I watched my brothers behave patiently while I answered one thing so they could ask for another helping. I could see my father wanting more, though he said not a word, and shared out with him. From his old habits, he tried to refuse it and give his refilled bowl to one of us. His children.
Koji, opposite, had no trouble making himself at home.