2010/03/27
Sakuramori, Nepon
Suzuki family home
Her father towered over the eight-year-old Hmiko. Her small hand encased in his, she gazed up at the Suzuki family shrine.
It occupied the far wall of the dojo. Dark cedar shelves rose almost to the ceiling, lined with polished wooden tablets and carefully framed portraits that stretched back further than she could comprehend. Each generation watched silently from above the next; stern faces in faded paintings slowly giving way to sepia photographs, then crisp colour portraits as the years marched closer to the present. Beneath them rested neatly arranged medals, police badges, old trophies and handwritten journals, each preserved as though every Suzuki had simply stepped away for a moment.
Thin wisps of incense drifted lazily through the room, carrying the earthy scent of sandalwood. Two white candles flickered gently on either side of the shrine, their warm glow reflecting off the polished wooden floorboards. It was quiet enough that Himiko could hear the faint crackle of the burning incense.
The young Himiko raised her arm and pointed her petite finger at the photos. She named the ones she could remember—from her grandpa to great-uncles and fathers. She stumbled on the ones she couldn't remember but her father helped her fill in the blanks.
Then she reached the top.
"Yasuhiro…"
Then to his father.
"…Kazuto…"
Then finally, his father, the man at the top.
"…Yoshito!"
She bounced on her feet as soon as the name left her mouth. And her voice rose, "Daddy, daddy, can you tell me the story of Yoshito Suzuki?!"
Her father, Sojiro Suzuki, looked upon her glowing grin with a juxtaposing gentle smile.
"Again? I've told you about a hundred times."
Himiko raised her hands.
"Pleeeaaaaaaase—"
"Okay, okay." Her father chuckled.
He gazed up at the painted portrait of Yoshito Suzuki.
Five hundred years ago, Nepon was in chaos; warlords fought for power as a corrupt emperor's incompetence led the realm into ruin.
Cities were burned.
Innocent women and children were slaughtered.
And criminals ruled the streets with no one to stop them.
The people needed a hero; a shining light in a world of darkness.
Fortunately, in these troubling times, there lived a man named Yoshito Suzuki.
He wasn't rich.
He wasn't a lord.
He wasn't even a samurai.
He was just someone who believed that if no one else would protect the people around him…
Then he would.
Whenever there was a dispute, people came to Yoshito.
Whenever a traveller disappeared, he searched for them.
Whenever someone was being treated unfairly, he stood beside them.
And people began to trust him…
Not because he was powerful,
But because he was just."
When he grew old, he told his son, Kazuto:
'The strongest person is not the one who wins every fight. It is the one people know will always stand for what is right.'
Kazuto carried on that promise."
Then his son.
Then his son.
Generation after generation.
When organised police forces appeared centuries later, the Suzukis joined them.
Not because we had to…
...but because it was simply the best way to continue Yoshito's promise.
"WOOOWWW!" Himiko's eyes glinted. "One day, I'm gonna be a big strong police officer who protects others and defeats evil just like you and Yoshito."
Her father placed a hand on her shoulder softly. "I know you will, Himiko."
Himiko looked up at her father, who was still looking at the shrine.
"Eventually, both of us will be on that wall, passing down our wisdom to the next generations."
With a smile still firmly plastered on her face, Himiko stared up at the shrine, eyeing their portraits all over again. The one thing that always confused her, however…
Was the fact that none of the female photos had any medals, notebooks or anything to speak of.
"Daddy, why do some of them have things around them and others don't?"
"The mementos?"
Himiko shrugged.
"They're reminders of all the service that they've done."
"Why do none of the girls have any?"
"Erm… well…" Her father placed a hand on her chin. "Traditionally it's…"
He looked down at Himiko's innocent face.
"No, don't worry about that."
Himiko tilted her head. "How can I be a police officer if only men can do it?"
Her father froze before bursting out laughing.
"Don't worry about that, Himiko; a Suzuki is a Suzuki regardless of gender."
Although she couldn't understand it, she felt an enormous amount of pressure on her shoulders. But regardless, she felt the strong desire to make her father look at her the same way he looks at the photos.
She had to make him proud.
2024/03/27
Grossaint, Troisine
MEI Special Operations Headquarters
The pistol was held firmly in the hands of the now twenty-two-year-old Himiko Suzuki. Feet planted firmly on the floor, she aimed the tip at the firing range targets metres in front of her. On a crate behind her, sat Jen, twiddling her pink hair in her fingers.
Himiko squeezed the trigger—the gunshot echoed across the firing range.
She lowered the gun, analysing the wound she inflicted on the target.
There was a bullet hole in the shoulder, far from the two targets in the centre of the silhouette's chest and head.
She sighed, lowering her earmuffs.
"How am I so bad at this?" she mumbled.
"You gotta clear your mind," Jen said.
Himiko turned instinctively.
Jen blinked. "…Did I say something wrong?"
"N-no." Himiko turned around.
Jen sighed. "Go on—spit it out."
"No, it's fine."
"Pleeeeaaaase."
"No, really, I'm fine."
"Pleeeeaaaaase."
Silence.
"Pleeeeaaaaase—I'm not gonna stop until you—"
"Fine."
Jen sat up—crossed her legs.
Himiko's voice lowered. "My dad called last night… He said…"
"… never mind—it's complicated."
"Daddy issues, huh?"
"What? No, I've not got—"
"Whoa, relaaaaax, I understand."
She laughed before her face turned uncharacteristically soft. "Look, I'm probably not the best person to talk about this; I've never even met my parents, after all."
"Oh, yeah… Sorry."
"Why? Did you kill 'em?"
Himiko wasn't sure how to respond.
But then Jen began laughing, so Himiko smiled too.
"But seriously, whatever's going on…" Jen's voice deepened in a way I'd never heard before. "You shouldn't take your parents for granted."
Jen scratched the back of her neck. "Uhh—not to get all philosophical or anything."
Himiko looked her in the eyes. She couldn't think of the words to respond. Jen had only spoken a single sentence—just a few simple words—yet it lingered in her mind far longer than it should've.
As Himiko stared, Jen averted her eyes, looking at the target behind them.
"Come on, man, don't get all silent on me now." She said quietly.
"Thank you, Jen."
Her eyes widened. "For what?"
Himiko looked down at her hand. "You've reminded me that it's not over yet."
She looked back up. "I need to go talk to them."
Jen sat up, placing her hand on her head in a mocking salute. "Happy to be of service."
Just as quickly as it appeared, the seriousness vanished behind her usual grin.
Himiko looked at the gun she took from the armoury, then back at Jen. "You're okay to—"
"I'll handle it, just go."
Himiko left the firing range shortly after, making her way through the winding corridors of MEI headquarters. By the time she reached Mrs Isamu's office, the confidence she'd felt moments ago had already begun to fade.
She stopped outside the door.
What was she even supposed to say?
Hello, Mrs Isamu. Can I leave the country because I've been lying to my parents for six months and my dad hates me?
Yeah.
That sounded professional.
Himiko raised her fist and knocked.
"Come in."
She opened the door.
Mrs Isamu sat behind her desk, surrounded by the usual organised chaos of reports, folders and half-finished paperwork. Her eyes remained fixed on whatever she was reading.
"Mrs Isamu?"
She looked up. "Himiko."
"Do you have a minute?"
The report lowered. "Of course."
Himiko stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
For some reason, asking suddenly felt more difficult than she'd expected. She'd faced aliens without knowing whether she'd live another minute, yet asking her boss for a few days off had her rubbing her palms against her trousers.
"I was wondering if I could take some leave."
Mrs Isamu's brow rose slightly. "When?"
"...Today."
"Today?"
Himiko nodded.
Mrs Isamu placed the report onto her desk. "What's happened?"
"It's my family."
That was enough to wipe the surprise from Makoto's face.
Himiko took a breath. "My father found out I left the police."
Silence.
"I never told them about MEI. They still thought I was working in Rengappon."
"You've been here for six months."
"...I know."
"And you've been telling them you're still a police officer?"
Himiko's eyes dropped towards the floor. "...Yeah."
Mrs Isamu leaned back in her chair.
Himiko quickly continued. "I know it's short notice. And if you need me here, I'll stay. I just thought—"
"Go."
Himiko stopped. "...What?"
"Go home."
"But—"
"Himiko."
Her voice wasn't harsh, but it shut her up immediately.
"I invited you, so you could say I have a part in this."
Himiko stared at her.
Mrs Isamu picked the report back up.
"Just let me know when you're ready to return."
A small smile crept onto Himiko's face.
"Thank you, Mrs Isamu."
The woman nodded. "Go."
Himiko bowed her head and hurried towards the door.
"And Himiko?"
Her hand stopped against the handle.
She looked back.
Mrs Isamu was already reading again. "Good luck."
Himiko smiled. "...Thank you."
She closed the door behind her.
Now her mind was clear; Himiko knew exactly what she needed to do. Unfortunately, knowing what she needed to do didn't make organising it any less of a pain in the arse. By the time she returned to her quarters, her phone was already in her hand. Flights to Nepon. Earliest departure. Economy.
She didn't care which airline.
Didn't care where she sat.
Didn't particularly care how much it cost.
She just needed to get there. The earliest flight she could reasonably catch left that evening.
Booked.
Then came somewhere to stay.
Himiko paused. Her parents' house had an empty bedroom. Her bedroom. But after everything her father had said over the phone…
She wasn't going to assume she was welcome there.
She searched for hotels around her hometown instead. Most were either too expensive or too far away, but eventually she found a small hotel within walking distance of her parents' house.
Nothing special.
One night.
She hesitated over the booking button.
Part of her felt ridiculous.
She had a home there.
At least…
She used to.
Himiko pressed Book.
Hours later, she was staring through an aircraft window as the lights of Grossaint shrank beneath her.
The city became a glowing web beneath the clouds before disappearing completely.
Himiko leaned back.
That was it. There was no changing her mind now. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened the music she'd downloaded before boarding. Something upbeat. Something distracting. Anything that could stop her thinking about her father.
She put in her earphones.
Dad, I'm sorry.
No. Too immediate.
Dad, I need you to understand why I joined MEI.
No, that sounded defensive.
I should've told you.
Better.
Then what would he say?
You should have.
Okay.
Then—
But I was scared you'd be disappointed.
And he'd say—
Himiko groaned quietly and pushed her head against the seat. The music wasn't helping. She skipped to another song.
Dad, I know I lied—
No.
I didn't mean to—
No.
Eventually, Himiko pulled the earphones from her ears altogether. This was useless. She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Maybe she needed to stop rehearsing. Whatever happened when she got there would happen.
…
Dad, I'm sorry.
Her eyes opened again.
Goddammit.
She shifted in her seat.
I joined MEI because—
No.
You always taught me to protect people, and that's what…
What would he say to that?
You lied to us.
Himiko swallowed.
…Yeah.
He probably would.
She stared at the seat in front of her.
Dad, I—
I know you're disappointed—
I should've told you sooner—
Every version ended differently. Some ended with shouting. Some with her father hanging up on a conversation they weren't even having over the phone. One particularly optimistic attempt ended with him understanding immediately. Himiko discarded that one pretty quickly. Eventually, even her own thoughts began to blur together.
Her head sank against the seat.
Dad, I…
…
The jolt of wheels striking tarmac ripped Himiko awake.
Her eyes snapped open. For several seconds, she had absolutely no idea where she was. Then came the low roar of the engines. The rows of seats. The dim cabin lights. Outside the window, runway lights streaked through the darkness.
A voice crackled through the speakers.
They had landed in Nepon.
Himiko slowly straightened herself.
She'd actually slept.
She looked through the window as the aircraft slowed.
All those hours spent rehearsing…
And she still had no idea what she was going to say.
She walked through the airport. Businessmen weaved through tourists like robots on tracks while families gathered around luggage trolleys, trying to work out where to go next. Above them, signs pointed towards the railway station beneath the terminal.
She followed them.
The rhythmic chime of the ticket gates echoed through the concourse.
There were a few seats left, so she rushed onto one.
As the train rolled forward, Himiko leaned her head outside. Just past the bay, the silhouette of the city stood tall against the evening sun.
It was peaceful.
Until they actually reached the city.
Because the moment they reached the city, the carriages were swarmed. Within seconds, it was packed shoulder to shoulder; office workers loosened their ties after a long day, students in school uniforms stared blankly into their phones, and tourists awkwardly tried to fold oversized suitcases out of everyone's way. Somewhere in front, a child complained about being tired while their mother apologised to everyone they bumped into.
The mother and child stopped in front of Himiko.
The small girl looked nervous, as she held her cute stuffed frog close to her chest. She looked no older than six years old.
"Excuse me," Himiko said quietly to the mother, "here, take my seat."
The woman waved her hand. Her child, eyes peeking over the stuffed toy, made eye contact with Himiko before quickly hiding them.
Himiko smiled, "No, I insist."
"Are you sure?" The woman said.
Rising from her seat, Himiko nodded.
"Thank you so much."
The woman sat down, placing her daughter on her lap.
Himiko squeezed in beside two students; it was about as uncomfortable as it looked. But as she squeezed in, an office worker smiled at her and nodded politely. Himiko smiled back.
The doors chimed.
And the train lurched forward.
Buildings flashed by outside the windows, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared. Apartment blocks towered over narrow streets lined with glowing convenience stores, and restaurants squeezed beneath elevated railways. Every few hundred metres another station arrived, another wave of passengers flowing in and out before the train surged onwards once again.
Himiko had forgotten how much she missed hearing native Neponese all around her. It felt like she could finally breathe again.
By the time she stepped out of the station, the city had already swallowed her whole.
The station spat thousands of people onto the pavements at once, dissolving into a sea of briefcases and shopping bags. People flowed through the streets in every direction, weaving around one another with practised precision.
Himiko strode through the concrete jungle with the confidence of a local and the excitement of a tourist. Neon signs hung between narrow streets. Towering office buildings reflected the afternoon sun between narrow gaps, dwarfing the old temples that refused to be consumed by the city. While enormous digital billboards flickered overhead, advertising everything from cosmetics to the latest films. Crossing signals chirped endlessly as rivers of pedestrians crossed in every direction.
The city hadn't changed.
Neither had the people.
Thousands of strangers passed within arm's reach, yet she didn't recognise a single face. Most she'd see for only a few seconds before disappearing back into the crowd forever.
For a little while, the organised chaos had distracted her from why she'd come home at all.
Eventually, she made it to Rengappon Central Station. The western red-brick architecture stood out against the glass towers and wooden temples of the rest of the city, as well as the large glass roof of the platforms.
Breathing became a little easier as she came to the station. Compared to the metro, the intercity platforms felt almost peaceful.
Himiko took a seat in a café, sipping on a warm black coffee.
The bitter aromas tickled her nose, casting her mind back to when she first joined MEI.
How nervous she was surrounded by two agents in black suits, who, despite their appearance, kindly treated her to a coffee. It felt like so long ago now, despite the fact that it hadn't even been a year since she joined.
There was a large display in the centre of the platform. On it, was a live broadcast of Tosin Oladeji discussing plans in front of an international congress.
Himiko wasn't listening to the words he was saying, but somehow, every word that came out of his mouth was inspiring. He could probably inspire the world just by reading a kid's book aloud.
She hadn't seen him in a while, probably not since the invasion ended. Since then, he's been so busy, travelling country to country, overseeing repairs.
Being the director of MEI must be tough.
Himiko checked her phone.
"Twenty minutes until my train arrives."
Further down, buried among the notifications, she saw that Aiko had sent her a message forty-three minutes ago.
Aiko:Hey mimi how u doin?
She clicked on it, and began typing.
Himiko: It feels so weird being back, what you up to?
Aiko: Just sittin around
Awwww man.... Ur making me jealous
I wish I could be over there
We NEED to go back one day
Himiko smiled.
Himiko:Yeah, definitely.
Aiko: Btw, didya kno Mikos never been?
Himiko frowned.
Really?
It was easy to forget Miko wasn't actually from Nepon. Her mother was Neponese, and her accent was almost flawless. After all, her name is Miko Shimizu-Clarke.
Had her parents never taken her?
Himiko: Oh yeah? We'll show her.
Aiko sent three laughing emojis.
Aiko:Btw, u still owe me a girls night after you flunked the other night
Himiko breathed a small laugh.
Himiko:Dude, family matters come first.
Aiko:DUDE!?!?!? Holy shit mimi what have I done to u
Himiko:Wow did I seriously say that? You're a bad influence Aiko.
Himiko checked the time once more and headed off to her platform.
A few minutes later, she was sat in a seat beside the window.
The train eased away from the platform
Slowly, Rengappon drifted behind her.
Glass towers gave way to apartment blocks.
Apartment blocks became quiet suburbs.
Then the suburbs gave way to open country.
Wide stretches of emerald rice fields shimmered beneath the afternoon sun. Rivers wound lazily between villages, reflecting the sky like polished mirrors. Dense forests climbed the surrounding hills, occasionally breaking apart to reveal distant shrines perched amongst the trees.
She rested her head against the cool window.
The announcements became less frequent.
The stations became smaller.
Each one felt a little more familiar than the last.
Looking out the window, it brought back memories.
Dad always insisted on sitting by the window.
He'd point out castles perched on distant hills, old shrines hidden amongst the trees, rivers they'd crossed dozens of times before. Every journey became another history lesson, another story about the people who had come before them.
Back then...
The trip home always felt too short.
Now...
She wasn't sure it was long enough.
Eventually the landscape began to change again.
The countryside gradually blended into a quieter town, Sakuramori, the city she grew up in. Its streets lined with low-rise buildings instead of skyscrapers. Narrow shopping streets branched away from the station, their storefronts decorated with flower boxes rather than giant advertisements. Cars moved at an unhurried pace, and pedestrians actually stopped to greet one another as they passed.
A florist. The old bakery. The old lady who ran the little bookshop who used to hand out sweets after school. None of them had changed.
The train slowed.
Next stop… Aoba
Her hometown.
The train rolled to a gentle stop. The familiar chime rung as the door slid open, and a cool breeze entered the carriage.
Himiko remained in her seat for a moment.
Then took a slow breath.
No time for rehearsing now.
She stood up, slinging her rucksack over her shoulders. Then stepped outside. The late afternoon sun bathed Sakuramori in warm amber light. Aoba Station was small—only two platforms connected by a pedestrian bridge—but it had always felt busy enough as a child. Now it seemed almost quaint. The familiar station clock still hung above the ticket gates.
A small smile found its way onto Himiko's face.
Then she walked home.
Bicycle bells rang somewhere further down the street as children laughed in the distance. The scent of fresh bread drifted from the bakery she'd passed countless times growing up, while a florist arranged bright bouquets outside her little shop.
Her feet carried her without thinking. Left at the crossing. Past the old bookshop.
And up ahead was a fruit shop. It wasn't too far from her house. Just past it was a narrow river. Once she passed the little stone bridge spanning it, she was only a few streets away.
Outside stood the old man who ran it, Shigeru Okamura. He'd been there longer than Himiko remembered. To this day, she's never tasted an apple better than the ones at his store.
She waved instinctively at the man.
A shocked smile appeared on his face. "H-Himiko-chan!?"
"Long time no see, Mr Okamura," Himiko said with a soft smile.
The man's smile widened. "How long's it been?"
"About four years, I think."
"Is that all? You look much older now."
Himiko looked down at her feet. "Well… a lot has happened."
The man breathed a tired laugh. "You're not wrong there. Times have been hard. Still working in the force."
"Yeah, I…" She stopped herself as the words of her father echoed in her mind. How long was she really going to lie to everyone? It was about time she started being honest.
"No."
The word left her mouth before she could stop it.
Mr Okamura's eyes widened slightly.
It was already too late; she may as well keep going.
"I left to join MEI."
"MEI?" The man scratched his chin. "So you're one of those folk protecting us from all this alien business?"
"…You could say that."
"Then what've you got to be embarrassed about?"
Himiko's jaw dropped a little. "You're not disappointed?"
"Eh, to hell with all that—oops, don't tell your father I said that."
Himiko giggled, "Don't worry, I won't."
Himiko hadn't realised how tense she'd been until her shoulders finally relaxed. Was it because she was finally being honest? What if she had just been honest from the very beginning? Would it have offset the feeling of hearing the disappointment in her father's voice?
Himiko's smile slowly faded with her laugh. "I've got my own issues to discuss with him."
"He found out?"
"…Yeah."
"Oh, boy. I'm sure it'll be fine; your mother will straighten him out, especially the fact that you're a hero—"
"I've been lying to him."
Mr Okamura's face softened. "You told him you were still in the force, eh?"
Himiko nodded.
"…Oh, Himiko."
She swallowed.
"When did you leave?"
Himiko grabbed her arm. "I think about… Six months…"
Mr Okamura listened.
"…Apparently he already found out… a long time ago."
"He kept it quiet?"
She nodded.
Mr Okamura looked back at his fruit shop for a moment. "…Yeah, that sounds like him."
Himiko frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He was probably waiting."
"Waiting?"
"For you to tell him yourself."
There was a moment of silence as the words hung in her mind. It was heavy.
Mr Okamura broke the silence. "He would've wanted to hear it from his daughter."
Yeah…
He was right.
She should've just told him from the start.
But there could be a chance that he's still waiting.
"Thank you, Mr Okamura. I'm gonna go talk to him."
The man nodded, "Good luck, kiddo."
Himiko nodded, waving to Okamura as she ran over the stone bridge.
After a few turns, Himiko…
Finally reached home.
The Suzuki residence stood proudly at the end of a quiet residential street, tucked behind a low stone wall and a meticulously kept garden. It was one of the oldest houses in Aoba, maybe even one of the oldest in Sakuramori, built almost entirely from dark timber that had weathered decades of rain without losing its quiet dignity. The sweeping tiled roof curved gently over deep wooden verandas, while paper shōji screens glowed softly behind polished lattice windows. A small stone path wound through trimmed shrubs and a carefully tended maple tree before reaching the entrance, where the wooden engawa wrapped around the house like a welcoming embrace.
To most people, it looked like a traditional Neponese home preserved from another era.
To Himiko…
It was simply home.
She recognised every creak of the wooden gate before she even opened it. The stone lantern beside the path was still chipped from the day she'd crashed into it during kendo practice when she was ten. Her mother had planted rows of seasonal flowers along the walkway years ago, and despite everything, they were still there, blooming just as brightly as she remembered. Beyond the house, partially hidden by the trees, the roof of the family dojo peeked into view.
Her footsteps slowed.
This place had barely changed.
She, however, had.
With slow, calculated steps, Himiko approached the main entrance. She stepped up onto the wooden engawa that wrapped around the house, overlooking the carefully tended garden.
She raised her hand to knock on the door.
But stopped for a moment.
Himiko swallowed…
And knocked on the door.
Within a few seconds, the door slid open. A middle-aged woman unveiled behind the door. She had a smile on her face.
Then she noticed who it was at the door—
And her smile faded.
"Himiko?"
"…Hey, Mom."
Her mother stepped forward and hugged her, all in one smooth, practised motion.
Her mother always greeted her like that, but now it came as a surprise. It was so surprising that Himiko had forgotten to raise her own hands in an embrace.
But before she got the chance to, her mother moved away, inviting her inside.
Himiko removed her shoes as she stepped inside, placing them down on the genkan.
"Is dad here?"
The woman nodded.
"Sojiro."
"Yes?" A deep voice bellowed down the corridor.
"You've got a guest."
The sound of footsteps echoed, "If it's that Yoichi again I swear—"
The man stopped as he turned the corner.
His eyes grew wide, but his frown remained, outlined by creases folded from decades of hard work. His hair was a faded black, but it was darker the last time she saw him and thicker.
"…Himiko?" The words came out thin, but suddenly, his face turned stern, and his voice deepened. "I thought I told you not to come here."
Himiko took a careful step forward. "Dad… we need to talk."
Her father turned before she could finish. "I've got nothing more to say to you."
He began to walk towards the hallway.
Himiko's fist clenched. "You haven't heard me out yet."
"I heard enough on the phone."
"…Please."
The man froze.
Without turning, he spoke quietly. "…Five minutes."
The air suddenly became thick. There was so much tension in the room that it caught in Himiko's throat.
"I'll go make some tea." Her mother said as she disappeared out the door.
Her footsteps along the wooden engawa were the only thing separating them from complete silence.
Her father turned, facing Himiko, arms crossed.
She swallowed. "I left the police."
"I know."
His voice was so heavy; every word that came out felt like a punch in the face.
"And what is it you're doing now?"
"I'm… erm—protecting people."
"As what?"
"…An MEI agent."
"Not as a Suzuki?"
Himiko frowned, then took another step forward.
"What? I'm risking my life every day. Fighting things I can't even describe. People are dying, Dad. I'm still protecting them. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"
Her father let out a quiet sigh. "…No."
Then he turned away. "I never taught you to lie."
The two stood there in silence. Himiko stared at the back of her father's head, praying that he would just turn around.
"I found out months ago."
Himiko's gaze lowered.
"I waited…"
"…Every time the phone rang, I thought…"
"…Today's the day she'll tell me."
He hung his head back.
"But every conversation…"
"You lied again."
"And again."
"And again."
Himiko's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry… I just… didn't want to disappoint you."
Her father shook his head. Then he turned his head, revealing one eye. "Do you really think so little of your own family?"
Himiko opened her mouth. But the words wouldn't come out. Nothing but a simple, "…No."
"Then why do you keep talking about the police?"
Himiko blinked.
"The police were never the tradition."
"What?" Himiko's voice turned hollow.
The man sighed. "…You still don't understand.
Then he turned the corner. Each footstep—low, deep thuds—echoed across the room.
Himiko searched for something. Anything. Just a single word to say.
But nothing came.
A door slammed shut down the corridor.
Himiko breathed a shaky sigh. Her father's words cut deep. But… she was missing something, and she knew it.
She placed a hand on her chin.
If there was any place that had the answer…
It would be…
Himiko slid the dojo door open.
As she stepped along tatami mats, an enormous feeling of nostalgia hit her like a tsunami. When she was little, the dojo felt so big as she ran around in the gi that was far too big for her, full of excitement.
Where did all that time go, eh?
The late afternoon sun poured through lattice windows in long golden bars, illuminating the shrine that stood up against the far wall. Another thing that once towered above her.
Slowly, she made her way over to the shrine.
She observed the framed portraits on the dark cedar shelves. She grabbed the photo of Ryoma Suzuki, her grandfather. He died in a hit-and-run when her father was thirteen. Looking at it made Himiko feel even worse. She almost threw everything away with her own father, while he had his taken.
She placed the portrait back on the shelf, careful not to knock over any other portrait, memos or medals.
She made her way up the shelves, putting a name to every portrait.
Then she reached the top.
"Yasuhiro…"
Then to his father.
"…Kazuto…"
Then finally, his father, the man at the top.
"…Yoshito."
She looked at him quietly for a moment.
"What do you think? Should I have joined MEI?"
Himiko took a deep breath, as the quiet sank in around her.
"I sometimes wonder myself. Don't get me wrong, I love the work I do, and I've met so many wonderful people, but…"
"I wonder how much I can take. I've seen more death than I ever hoped to see:"
"People ripped to shreds by giant rats in an abandoned school,"
"A giant tree monster who tore through entire squads,"
"Even…"
"Connie and…"
"Lefèvre."
"I thought I was gonna lose even more when the aliens invaded. I almost allowed Miko and Nozomi to die."
"But I'm worried that eventually… I'll see every person as just a name on a memorial."
"…Sorry for… um… getting deep on you."
The portrait looked back at her, a painting created centuries ago. How accurate was the painting, she always wondered.
"If he was here… He'd probably say…" Mimicking a man's voice, she repeated the words her father told her time and time again.
"The strongest person is not the one who wins every fight. It is the one people know will always stand for what is right."
Himiko frowned. "Wait a minute… How else did that story go?"
"…He wasn't rich."
"…He wasn't a lord."
"He was just someone who believed that if no one else would protect the people around him"
"It wasn't because he was powerful, but because he was just."
"When organised police forces appeared centuries later, the Suzukis joined them."
"Not because we had to..."
"...but because it was simply the best way to continue Yoshito's promise."
"…I'm an idiot." Himiko placed her hands over her face. "How did I never see this? It wasn't about joining the police. I was so blinded by trying to please Dad that I never actually thought about what it was he was trying to tell me."
Hearing the sound of footsteps behind her, Himiko turned around.
"In your own head again?"
"Mom?"
She carried over a small teapot and a porcelain cup. She handed Himiko the cup, filling it with herbal tea.
The aromas hit Himiko's nose, it's—
"Chamomile tea" Her mother finished the thought. "It'll help calm your mind, and don't worry, I've already given your father some."
"Thanks." Himiko took a sip of the tea. It wasn't as hot as she thought it would be, as if it had been sitting for a while.
"What did he say?" Himiko asked.
She didn't respond initially, she looked down at the teapot in her hand.
"I think… it was good that you came."
"…Really?"
"It shows you really care. And even if your father might not say it… he's happy too. He couldn't bear to lose his daughter."
Himiko's face softened.
"And…" Her mother's voice shook.
"Mom?"
"…You've really been through all that?"
Himiko frowned. "What are you talking about?—"
"You're too easy on her, Akiko," Her father marched through the dojo door. "She'll never learn."
"…Dad?"
"I see you've found the shrine…" He stopped in the centre of the dojo. "Is there… anything you want to tell me?"
Himiko took a few steps closer to her father. Their eyes locked, but something about her father's gaze felt less tense than before. There wasn't the feeling of daggers anymore.
"Yeah… I think I get it now." Himiko looked down.
Her father placed his hands on his hips. "Well?"
"O-oh, yeah, our duty wasn't necessarily about joining the police, it was about… erm—protecting others, being fair and just, and honourable. I've been such an idiot."
"You're damn right." Her father snorted before breathing a long sigh, "You really thought I'd stop being proud of you because you didn't join the police?"
Himiko slowly raised her head.
"None of that really mattered… I just wanted my daughter to be happy, and I thought you wanted to be a police officer."
The man folded his arms. "I've been thinking a little after our argument, and probably your mother's tea…"
Himiko looked at him again.
"…I should probably apologise too. I think I focused a bit too much on the police part."
"…Dad."
"It's just… it made me so happy that you were so eager to join the police force. I never meant to put so much pressure on you. I'm sorry, Himiko."
Guilt washed over her. She put her father through so much pain. All because she couldn't read between the lines of a story she'd heard hundreds of times.
Himiko noticed the rack of Bokken in the corner of her eye.
"I know I can't tell you with words after what I've done, but…"
She pointed towards the rack.
"…Can I… at least show you?"
Her father's brow rose slightly.
"What?"
His eyes followed her finger, eventually reaching the rack. He looked at it for a second.
Before letting out a gentle laugh.
"Of course, Himiko. I'd be happy to."
A few minutes later, she stood opposite her father in the centre of the dojo, both dressed in protective gear they'd pulled from storage. Himiko rolled her shoulders, adjusting her grip as the bamboo blade extended in front of her.
Her father raised his own.
Suddenly, she was ten years old again. Bare feet against the tatami. Her father's voice echoing around the dojo.
Straighten your back.
Watch my shoulders.
Don't stare at the sword.
Every lesson flooded her muscles from the depths of her mind.
She gave it a small swing through the air before turning towards her father. He stood opposite her, already prepared. He rolled one shoulder before raising his shinai.
"Don't expect me to go easy on you."
Himiko raised hers. "I was about to tell you the same thing."
Her father's brow rose.
The two bowed.
Then took their positions.
For a moment, neither moved. Himiko watched him. His feet. His shoulders. His hands. The slight tension running through his forearms. She knew this stance. She'd stared at it thousands of times growing up. Back then, it had been impossible to read.
Now…
Her father moved.
Himiko followed.
CRACK!
Their shinai collided.
She knocked his blade aside and struck.
The man barely blocked it.
Himiko was already moving again.
Another strike.
Another.
Her father stepped backwards.
His eyes widened.
Himiko saw the opening.
She lunged.
THWACK!
Her shinai struck his shoulder.
He staggered sideways.
Silence.
Himiko immediately lowered her weapon. "...You alright?"
Her father slowly straightened. He looked at her. Then at the shinai in his hands.
"...Again."
Himiko smiled.
They returned to their positions.
This time, her father attacked immediately.
Himiko parried. She knew what came next. She'd known before he'd even committed to it.
His shinai came high.
Himiko slipped outside its path.
She could've struck his wrist.
Didn't.
Her father recovered quickly and came at her again.
Himiko stepped backwards.
He struck.
She blocked.
Another.
Blocked.
Then she saw it: a tiny opening beneath his guard. Her body reacted instinctively.
One step.
THWACK!
Her father froze.
The tip of Himiko's shinai rested against his chest.
Neither moved.
Then Himiko stepped backwards and lowered it.
Her father stared at her.
Himiko tilted her head. "What?"
"When did you get this good?"
A grin crept across her face. "Work."
The man snorted. "Work?"
"Yeah."
"You've been practising?"
"Practising?" Himiko laughed. "Dad, I use this stuff."
His expression changed.
Himiko lifted her shinai again. "Remember how you always used to tell me not to focus on the weapon?"
"Watch the person."
"Exactly." She nodded. "Turns out that's really useful when the person has four arms."
Her father stared at her. "...Four?"
"Four."
"With swords?"
"Nope… just big muscles. Although one did have swords for hands but they only had two."
"...Right."
Himiko laughed. "And then there was the Sylvacapra."
"The what?"
"Actually, never mind." She rested the shinai against her shoulder. "The point is... everything you taught me here still matters."
His attention dropped towards the weapon in her hands.
"The footwork. Keeping distance. Reading movement. Knowing when someone's committed to an attack..." Himiko paused. "It's saved my life more times than I can count."
Her father's expression softened.
"I mean that." Himiko looked around the dojo. "When I joined MEI, I thought I'd left all this behind."
She looked back at him. "But I didn't."
A small smile appeared on her face. "So... thanks, Dad. For teaching me kendo."
For several seconds, her father said nothing. Then the corner of his mouth curled upwards. "You learned from the best."
Himiko rolled her eyes. "Of course I did."
She turned towards the rack, then stopped.
Actually… "So is this where you tell me kendo was secretly the Suzuki tradition all along?"
"No."
Himiko turned back.
Her father laughed. "That's ours."
Himiko stopped. There wasn't anything to decipher. No hidden meaning. No five-hundred-year-old lesson she'd somehow managed to misunderstand.
Just theirs.
A genuine smile spread across her face. "Yeah."
She liked that.
Himiko glanced towards the windows. The golden sunlight that had filled the dojo earlier had disappeared. Beyond the latticework, the garden had faded into blue-grey twilight.
"Oh."
She reached for her phone.
Her eyes widened. "Oh, is that the time?"
Her mother, who had been sitting quietly along the edge of the dojo, looked over.
Himiko hurried towards her rucksack. "I should probably get going."
Her mother frowned. "Going?"
"Yeah. It's getting late."
"Where are you staying?"
Himiko slung the rucksack over one shoulder. "There's a hotel nearby. It's only about fifteen minutes away."
Silence.
Himiko looked between her parents. "What?"
"You booked a hotel?" Her mother asked.
"Well... yeah."
"Why?"
Himiko stared at her as though the answer were obvious. "I didn't exactly think I'd be staying here after—"
"Don't bother." Her father's voice echoed.
Himiko stopped.
He was placing the equipment back into storage.
"What?"
"Cancel it."
He didn't even look at her. "We'll get your room ready."
Himiko stared at his back. "...Seriously?"
The man finally glanced over his shoulder. "It's still your room, isn't it?"
Something tightened in Himiko's chest.
She looked at her mother, who was already smiling. Then back at her father.
"...Yeah."
Himiko lowered the rucksack from her shoulder.
"Yeah, it is."