The estate is quiet in the late morning, when all the work receives its tranquil standstill. The peace it provides is both relaxing and disquieting. It never feels right, until the first person takes the perpetual swing with their words. Soon enough, the sound of fighting fills the air, and breaks the silence.

"You disgust me. I'm embarrassed to my core I have to call you my family!"

"Oh, I'm the disgusting one? At least I do my duties as the heir. You're nothing but a lowly, good-for-nothing leech, sticking to me to make yourself look good!"

"That's not true," the sound of a voice breaking, cracking like a shattered vase, fills the air with devoid sadness. "That's not true, and you know it."

A frustrated scoff. A twinge of guilt.

Footsteps patter against the polished floor, and the door slides open to the courtyard, where you are humming a song as you paint calligraphy on old scrolls as though the sound is merely black noise.

A pair of small hands grabs your yukata sleeve and shakes it vigorously, like waving a flag. You relent and turn to look at the boy, tears in his eyes. The inky brush falls into the saucer as you hold your arms out and let him crawl into your lap.

"Mom," he sniffles into your torso, "she was mean to me again."

"She didn't mean it," you say. "And by the way, everyone can hear you fighting. I know you've said some mean things to her too."

"I know, but—" Akihiko lets a tear run down his face. "It's just that she doesn't like me."

"Honey, your sister loves you."

"Yeah, but she doesn't like me," he says stubbornly. "I don't know why."

"Who said the first mean thing?" you ask.

He mumbles under his breath. "Me. I'm sorry."

You sigh and pat his head. "Don't say sorry to me. Sometimes we don't know what we say when we are angry. That doesn't mean we don't know how to love our family."

"Auntie Ayaka and Dad never fight," he says.

"Ah, but your father and I do," you say, smiling.

Your son laughs at this. You gaze at him, love flowing freely. His pale blue hair is growing past his ears. His silky kimono is already disheveled even though Thoma had ironed it many times before. You ruffle his head.

"Alright. Go apologize to her, and make sure it's sincere," you said, tapping his tiny nose. "I'm positive she will welcome you with open arms."

You send him off with a kiss on the forehead. He nods enthusiastically and practically runs back inside the house. You hear his footsteps disappear down the corridor.

You glance at the sky. Spring is in full bloom and the ponds are rich with healthy koi fish. You begin to pack up your calligraphy materials, yearning to feel a fan cooling you.

Just then, you feel a cool breeze hit your nape. You look up to see Ayato holding your fan, standing over you with a tiny smile on his face.

"Husband," you greet.

"Wife," he says. It's become a running game for you to refer to each other as only that when your children aren't around. He bends down to kiss your cheek and sits cross-legged to examine your artwork. "Pretty papers."

"Boring papers," you say.

"Not as boring as the stacks in our offices," he shoots back.

"If that's what you want to believe."

Many people have business with the Yashiro Commission. Chisato has been busy taking care of her son, so a proxy had to fill in her place temporarily. It is unfortunate that he is not as efficient as her. Moreover, Inazuma has become more open to outlanders in the past few years, which caused an influx in tourism, thereby increasing the work for the Yashiro Commission.

You shoulder the other half of Ayato's work, tirelessly making sure that he doesn't go overboard. Ayaka, still fair and popular, continues to manage the public appearances which suits you just fine. Your eldest son, Haruto, however, now in his teens, has proven to be rather popular among people as well thanks to his good looks. You try to quell the parental melancholy every time you see girls his age giggle whenever he walks past.

You're pretty sure he inherited his charisma from his father.

"I told Akihiko not to run in the corridors," Ayato says. "He knocked the bamboo sword from Haru's arms and nearly broke a vase."

You sigh, deciding to let it go for now. After all, he's the youngest, the troublemaker, the child who knows nothing yet. But he has a good heart that needs to be nurtured. He reminds you of Chisato more than anyone.

Soon enough, Haruto enters the courtyard with pressed lips and well-made bamboo swords in each hand. His fair eyes land on his parents sitting together, calmly observing you. He resembles Ayaka in the way that he seems to hold a room's attention once he walks into it. 

"Mother, Father," he bows low. Out of your three children, he is the only one who has inherited your hair color. "It's my schedule for training."

"Oh, but it's your day off," you say kindly.

"No," he insists. "I must get better. Who will protect Ayami once she's the commissioner?"

"That's not going to happen for at least a decade, son," Ayato says, with an amused smile. "Do you really think I'll be stepping down anytime soon?"

"My duty is here, to my commission," Haruto says solemnly. He tosses a bamboo stick to Ayato and he catches it. "My loyalty shall never waver. Please train with me, Father."

"That, he most definitely inherited from his mother," he says to you sarcastically before standing up. His palm brushes your shoulders, soft as a feather, before he makes his way to his son. He glances back at you with a small grin and holds up the sword like he's showing off for you.

You roll your eyes at him. Ayato is a good husband and an even better father but he's still the annoyingly serious prat you know. He's a leader when he wants to be and a little too clever when he feels like it. And yet, you're still drawn to him like a fish on a pretty hook.

He is, without a doubt, the one person who had stolen your heart your entire life.

After watching them cross wooden blades, Ayato choosing not to hold back with his elemental skills, you stand and quietly leave to take a hike into the Chinju Forest where you are sure your daughter is. During spring, she often flees to the dark forest when she is upset, and only returns for her lessons or when Ayato is ready to send every member of the shuumatsuban to search for her.

You find her by the river, skipping stones with what could be described as unquenchable frustration. You smile. You knew it.

You pull your skirt up and walk over to her, feeling the grass on your sandals. You wonder if this is the same grass that used to grow here many years ago. Her eyes are closed and her eyebrows are knitted into a frown. Her shiny blue hair looks like it's glowing in the dim light. When she turns to look at you, you're washed with lavender hues.

Ayami is the spitting image of your husband but with your body build and the same stoic, pensive expression that often causes people to squirm.

You gently speak.

"You shouldn't pick fights with your brother, you know," you say, arching an eyebrow. "Even though he's wrong for saying things, he cannot differentiate right from wrong yet."

"It's easy for you to be lenient when people say bad things," Ayami replies curtly. "But I don't want to stand for it. I want people to know that I can't be crossed."

"People will be cruel no matter what," you say. "Your brother is not one of those people."

She looks uneasy for a bit. She is about to turn seventeen and each day she gets closer to her future. You find yourself missing the days when she was only an infant, when you and Ayato were new to this journey, and showering her in affection and care. Now you feel as though you're not as needed anymore.

But in times like these, you find that you can impart some wisdom.

"Is there something on your mind?" you ask.

She seems to struggle to get the words out. "I—I'm almost of age."

You nod. You understand. You have felt this before.

"You do not have to marry if you do not want to," you say. "And if you do, you can marry for love."

"I know," she says, too quickly. "It's just..."

Your lips curl upwards in a smile. "Did someone ask to court you?"

Blood rushes to your daughter's cheeks. "Please don't tell Father."

"Of course not," you say, fighting the urge to laugh. "You know, when I came of age, I had people lining up just to see me debut."

Your daughter cringes. She does not like the idea of other people trying to marry you other than her father, she just can't imagine it. It fills her with disgust and it shows on her face, mirroring what yours looked like when you were her age.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm being silly for entertaining the idea. Strong commissioners don't need to be married. I might make the wrong choice."

"Everyone makes the wrong choices sometimes," you say. "And it's not a crime to want to get married."

She looks at you, the pensive expression melting. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" Your face morphs into confusion.

"Did you want to get married?"

You sigh. Your eyes fill with a wistfulness and amusement that she doesn't quite understand.

"No, I only wanted to help my family after the Vision Hunt Decree," you admitted. "Marriage was just a medium for that."

Your daughter's eyes widen—in shock, in fear. It is the first time you have ever told her this and she would not have believed it.

"But fate was kind, and your father loved me more than anything he'd ever honored," you say. "He fought for us to stay together despite the odds."

Ayami relaxes. Somehow your words tell her that she will be alright. She hesitates for a moment.

"Do you think Father—"

"—is very proud of you, and he'll support you no matter what," you fill in. You place your hands on her arms before pulling her into a hug. "He thinks you're going to be a better commissioner than him."

She leans into you and allows you to hold her before prying herself away. "I promised to take my lessons with him this afternoon," she says. "I better go."

"Tell him that if he drinks more coffee than he needs, I'm not going to help him if he palpitates again."

She rolls her eyes. It's so like you. You both make your way back to the estate. Haruto is entertaining Akihiko playing with swords. When you and Ayami enter, they fall silent. Then, Akihiko burst into tears before running to his sister.

You leave your children be.

You search for your husband and creep into his office where he is reading a letter with a frown on his face. You wrap your arms around his neck from behind and lean down to place your chin on his shoulder.

"What's the matter?" you ask. "That frown doesn't look pretty on you."

Ayato shakes his head. "It's the son from the Fujita clan, Sanshirou's eldest. He wrote to me asking if he could officially court Ayami."

The dots connect in your head. Why Ayami sneaks off into Chinju Forest often and only returns later. Why her temperament has gotten jittery. Your brows raise.

"Well?" you prompt. "Can he?"

"That's my daughter," Ayato says. "She's just a baby."

"She's seventeen, Ayato, that's the same age when we were supposed to court," you say with an eye roll. "You're getting old."

"I have you to thank for marking me with age," he says.

"Don't you ever get tired of that attitude?"

Ayato sports an unsympathetic smile. "Me? Never, darling."

He stands and follows you to the window, where you watch your children in the garden. The questions are just beginning. Ayato always reassures you that everything is under control. Your tiny part of the world is expanding, encompassing heights you never expected. But it has and always will be fine as long as you have each other.

You lean against him again. You let his hands take yours, squeezing them.

"Hm?" he asks. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking," you reply.

You catch your reflection in the window. You still look like yourself, just older. You look at Ayato and see how akin he is to wine, only sweeter and more attractive every year. You know how lucky you are, having spent the years with love you never knew as a child.

You do not forget, either, the constant politics that have governed your life. It catches your breath, afraid it would hurt your children in the same way.

"It will be alright," Ayato finally says, relenting. You're positive he's saying this to you more than himself, like he knows what you are thinking. "I know they will be."

Those are the words you've heard him whisper to your children, when they used to crawl into your room after nightmares, when they scraped their knees by accident, when they got a less-than-pleasing score on an academic test. He has never been one to be angry at them and has shown nothing but patience and firm care as his father did for him. It is evident why they adore him so much.

For a moment, you are your children's age again, meeting him for the first time. You are seventeen again, wishing for nothing but to see him every day. You are a young lady again, full of hatred and desire and desperate to be caught in the crossfire of hate and love. And the peace, the sweet peace that finally came after the dust had settled.

Even after all this time, you are hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Ayato—to the point it is as strong as hatred. Ayato is still the one you search for in everything, the one you pin for each day, the one whom you greet first in the morning when you wake and last in the evening before you sleep.

His voice pulls you in, settles over you, and comforts you like a gentle embrace from someone who has known you since you were a child. Sometimes you still feel like you are, too.

"Yes," you hum in agreement, something you once thought you and Ayato would never come to, not so long ago. "It will be."

end.