Yusuke approached the Squire's grave with a bouquet of black-eyed Susans he'd gathered along the side of the road. The simple granite tombstone stood on the slope of a hill in the sleepy churchyard of Saint Mary's overlooking the sea. A stone mason had carved the words: "Haru Yukimura. March 21st, 1751 to November 5th, 1791. Aged 40 years" and left space for when Mrs Yukimura, one hopefully far off day, joined her husband. All-in-all, it was not a bad place for a man and his legal blanket to take their dirt bath.

    "A short life and a merry one, eh, old friend," said Yusuke, placing his bouquet at the foot of the tombstone. It was hard to imagine the boisterous Squire Yukimura, the best shot and boldest riding in this part of England, in such a peaceful place. But perhaps after such a raucous life, he was ready for some quiet after all. "I'll raise a cup of grog to you at the Red Devon and enjoy a bowl of pepper pot in your honor."  The Red Devon was a tavern in Seacombe and one of the Squire's old haunts.
Yusuke stood up and brushed the dirt from his breeches. He'd only learned about Squire Yukimura's death months after the fact when he received a letter from Miss Genkai containing an enameled mourning ring. God in Heaven only knew why Keiko, if she was such a devoted scribbler, couldn't have couldn't have at least written to him herself about her father's death. But writing to each other would have been improper, she'd claimed. Yusuke laughed. Since when had Miss Priss ever cared about propriety when it came to him?

The last time Yusuke had seen Keiko and her father was the day before he left for Macau, almost exactly three years earlier. Yusuke and Keiko snuck away to Woolmouth Cove to enjoy the last taste of summer. An autumn chill, not unlike the one now compelling Yusuke to wear a wool riding coat, had already set in. They nestled into the overgrown, sun-warmed grass like a blanket. Yusuke teased Keiko about the grass stains on her dress, asking what her parents would think about her green gown. As usual, his joking made Keiko laugh despite herself, but her cheeks turned scarlet. Yusuke pretended not to notice.
They played make-believe all that summer and acted as if nothing had changed when everything had, and things would continue going on as they always had when they wouldn't.  Yusuke broke the spell by telling her he had to leave the next day. Keiko sat up, bid him adieu, and asked him to come find her when he returned, promising she would introduce him to her husband. She then scampered away, skirts flying around her, leaving him behind in the grass.
Yusuke called upon the Yukimuras later in the evening to say his formal goodbyes. Mrs Yukimura was away visiting friends, so the Squire made Keiko, who'd probably been sulking in her room, come downstairs to act as hostess. Keiko prepared the tea with a look on her face that would have rivaled Medusa's before excusing herself. She said she felt unwell because of her fleurs régulières, making Yusuke and Squire Yukimura clam up. But when Keiko's skirts had flown up in the wind back at Woolmouth Cove, she hadn't been wearing red petticoats. 
The Squire clapped Yusuke on the back and assured him that a woman's moods change like the tide. Yusuke took heart from these words. After three years, the tide surely must have turned in his favor.
Yusuke gathered up the reins of his horse, a handsome bay mare who'd rented from a stableman near his hotel in Exeter, who'd been grazing contentedly several yards away. A phaeton pulled by two glossy ponies approached St Mary's Church via the main road leading into Seacombe. Yusuke waved to the tiny old lady driving the phaeton. There she was, the beautiful old ruin.

Miss Genkai pulled over in her carriage and flashed Yusuke a winning smile. "Damn me, boy," she said. "I had a feeling you'd be here today."
Yusuke shook his head- no one so much as blew their nose in Seacombe without Miss Genkai knowing about it. He and the horse walked over to his guardian's carriage. Climbing onto the step, Yusuke kissed her on the cheek. "How are you, Grandmama?" he asked. He called Miss Genkai "Grandmama" primarily to be impudent, but she was as likely to be his grandmother as anyone if the rumors about her were to be believed.

Yusuke father (who Miss Genkai told him was one of the countless "relatives" who sniffed around her fortune) was said to bear a strong resemblance to the younger  Mr Toguro, who'd courted the venerable dame when she was a bonny lass of twenty. That was the extent of what Yusuke knew about his father. What he knew about his mother, he could count on one hand. Her name was Atsuko Urameshi. She'd been a maidservant in Miss Genkai's house, seduced by her mistress' "nephew." And she left Yusuke the brass ring he'd been wearing since it could fit on his finger.
Miss Genkai scoffed. "Doctor Kamiya can't make me younger," she said. "And only the Almighty knows if he can make me older." Her bony finger poked Yusuke in the chest which never failed to put the fear of God into him. "And you, you little scapegrace, are going to put me in my grave."
Yusuke put his hands in the pockets of his breeches. Miss Genkai suffered a stroke last winter, around the time those blasted Frenchies captured him off Toulon and clapped him up in the Tour Royale. This came as a shock to all who loved her because aside from arthritis in her knees and the occasional attack of gout, Miss Genkai was a fit as a fiddle and always had been.
In her prime, Miss Genkai could dance all night at a ball and go hunting all the next day. She'd been a superb horsewoman, known as the best in the county, and was even known to pick up a sword or pistol from time to time. And she was the only person ever to put the fear of god into Yusuke. As late as three years ago, she was outpacing women half her age.
Throwing his arms around the old lady's neck, Yusuke kissed her cheek again. "Fear not, you'll outlive us all." 
If Miss Genkai was terrifying enough to make Yusuke Urameshi mind, then even Death himself would quake at the sound of her name.
Yusuke mounted his horse and trotted alongside Miss Genkai's phaeton. She invited him back to Seacombe House for tea. He could always stop by the Red Devon on his way back to Exeter.
"What time should I expect you on Thursday?" he asked Miss Genkai. He'd promised to escort her to the Exeter Assembly Thursday evening, and she would pick him up in her carriage.
"I'll drop by around six," said Miss Genkai. A wicked grin crossed her face. "Keiko Yukimura's going to be there."
Yusuke gripped his reins tighter. He only agreed to take the old dragon to the assembly because Keiko might be there, but he would rather be tarred and feathered than admit it. "I hope she won't fuss over me too much?"
His stint in the Tour Royale no doubt worried the poor girl dreadfully and he had a lot to account for. He didn't blame her but her tears and reproaches would be more than he could bear. But still, their reunion was the moment he both dreaded and longed for these past three years.
Miss Genkai smirked. "Don't act like that isn't exactly what you want."
"What do you mean?" Yusuke flushed. Maybe Keiko throwing herself at his feet and welcoming him home like a conquering hero would be acceptable? Definitely preferable to tears and reproaches.
"But I don't think Keiko's in much of a mood to fuss over you."
"She's still in a huff?" Women could be so damned obstinate sometimes. "Whatever for?" Keiko couldn't still be having her fleurs régulières.
Miss Genkai shook her head. "What's the point of traveling to the East Indies if you can't see past the tip of your own nose?"

They rode through a countryside that was the same as when Yusuke left it. Farm laborers who worked the lands that Miss Genkai owned, drawn there by the best beer and cider for miles, were busy bringing in the oat and barley harvest while the dry weather lasted. The heavy grey clouds on the horizon and the musty scent in the air pointed to an oncoming rainy spell. The laborers dropped their sheaves and scythes to bow or curtsy to Miss Genkai as she passed.
Yusuke reined in his horse and Miss Genkai her ponies to allow a flock of sheep across the road. The shepherdess bobbed a curtsy to them.

"Yusuke..." said Miss Genkai.
Yusuke turned to his guardian. "Yes?"
"Nothing." Miss Genkai's face drooped. "It's just that I wouldn't expect things to be the same between you and Keiko as they were before."
"And why wouldn't they be the same?"
Keiko was just like the fields and forests around them. She might have her moods and seasons but she was steadfast and constant. While life's tides had taken Yusuke to the ends of the earth, Keiko stayed anchored where she was, always there when the tides brought him back.
Yusuke looked to Miss Genkai for an answer to his question but she remained frustratingly tight-lipped.

History Nerd Corner:

The East Indies include the present day Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia. In the 1790s, Malaysia (known as the British East Indies) was a recent addition to the British Empire.

"fleurs régulières" is French for "regular flowers". In the 18th century, it was common to use French euphemisms when talking about periods. Prior to the 19th century and the advent of mass-produced menstrual products, there is no clear evidence for how people (specifically cis women) dealt with their periods since it wasn't something that was thought necessary to record. But Keiko's red petticoats are a possible option.