Akihiko closed the shoji screen with a bang, fatigue etched into his features. His eyes, dulled by exhaustion, spoke of sleepless nights worrying about the domain. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the persistent ache that had settled in his head. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and tinged with weariness. “Kaito, I’m sorry I was so rude yesterday. I wasn’t myself.”

 “Will you forgive me?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Kaito looked up from where was waiting on the tatami, his posture composed yet with a hint of guardedness in his gaze. The light casting long shadows across his face, highlighting the calm but wary expression he wore. “Thank you for apologising, Aki,” Kaito began, his tone even but cool. “But I don’t forgive you yet. I understand that things have been hard for you these past two months, but that doesn’t excuse what you said.”

Akihiko’s heart sank at Kaito’s words. He had hoped for immediate forgiveness, but Kaito’s refusal was a harsh reminder that words alone wouldn’t mend the rift between them. He still couldn't forgive himself 

Kaito met his eyes, his expression softening slightly but remaining firm. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Apologies are a start, but actions speak louder. I need to see how you handle things moving forward before I can even consider it.”

The words struck Akihiko deeply, and he nodded slowly, accepting the reality of the situation. Earning Kaito’s forgiveness and trust would take more than just a few words of regret—it would take time, patience, and a change in behaviour. .

Stepping into his father’s old chambers, Akihiko was immediately enveloped by the weight of the room’s history. The space was steeped in tradition, with its sliding shoji screens, dark wooden beams, and the faint scent of incense lingering in the air . A single scroll hung in the tokonoma alcove, its calligraphy precise and serene, offering a moment of calm amidst the turmoil in Akihiko’s heart.

The room, once filled with his father’s commanding presence, now felt like a hollow echo. It was his now, but the transition from son to leader felt far from complete. “It’s strange, Kaito,” Akihiko admitted as he took another step inside, his voice quiet and reflective. “Being here like this… I never imagined I’d be the one standing in his place.”

Kaito followed him into the room, his movements graceful as he knelt in seiza position. His presence was a comforting anchor, even if Akihiko knew that forgiveness was still out of reach. “It’s a big change, Aki,” Kaito replied, his voice steady. “But it’s yours now. You’ll make it your own, in time. If you need help organising anything, I’m here.”

Akihiko offered a small, appreciative smile and turned towards the door to ask for some tea. As he moved, his foot caught on a slight raise in the tatami lining. He frowned in annoyance, waving Kaito over to inspect the uneven spot. Together, they lifted the mat, revealing a small wooden panel underneath.

Curiosity piqued, Akihiko carefully lifted the panel, revealing a bundle of old letters, neatly folded and meticulously stored away. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the familiar handwriting—his father’s. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with possibilities, then gently lifted the letters out.

He unfolded the top letter, his eyes scanning the contents. The neat, precise script detailed political alliances, trade negotiations, and other matters of state—topics that had once seemed so distant to Akihiko but were now an inescapable part of his reality. He sighed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. These were the mundane, intricate details of leadership that his father had navigated with ease, but to Akihiko, they felt like an insurmountable challenge. Grunting in annoyance, he passed the letters to Kaito, who quickly scanned them before setting them aside.

“Let’s get some tea?” Akihiko suggested, his tone still subdued as he tried to steer the conversation to something lighter.

Kaito nodded, gracefully lowering himself back into the seiza position next to the low table. His grey kimono swished softly against the tatami as he settled, his movements calm and composed. Akihiko called for a servant, his voice firm as he requested gyokuro tea. He forced his attention back to Kaito. “So, how was your day?” he asked, attempting to ease the tension with small talk.

Kaito’s gaze briefly flicked to the letters before returning to Akihiko. “It was uneventful, mostly,” he replied. “I spent some time in the garden, watching the koi.”

Akihiko nodded. “I’ve been meaning to spend more time there myself, but… things have been busy. I hope I’m still welcome.”

“You are,” Kaito said softly, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of concern. “Taking on Father’s responsibilities must be overwhelming.”

“It is,” Akihiko admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Every day there’s something new. Problems to solve, decisions to make… Sometimes it feels like there’s no end to it.”

The servant arrived with the tea, setting the tray between them. Akihiko poured the gyokuro, the delicate aroma filling the room. He handed a cup to Kaito, who accepted it with a quiet nod of thanks.

Kaito took a sip, savouring the rich, slightly sweet flavour. “I’m sure you’ll find your rhythm soon,” he said, his tone encouraging.

“Maybe,” Akihiko replied, though his voice carried a note of uncertainty. “I just hope I don’t make too many mistakes along the way.” He paused, then reached into his sleeve, pulling out a small object. “Oh, before I forget—please take this.”

He held out a beautiful inro, adorned with intricate gold leaf detailing of a cicada being stalked by a mantis, with the netsuke carved into the shape of an oriole. The craftsmanship was exquisite, a token of both apology and sincerity. The inrō was beautifully crafted, its lacquered surface adorned with gold leaf detailing that depicted a mantis stalking a cicada.

Attached to the inrō was a round netsuke carved from dark boxwood, shaped like an oriole. The bird was simple yet elegant, its form smooth and rounded.

As Kaito attached the inrō to his obi, Akihiko felt a mixture of satisfaction and unease.

“Thank you, this is beautiful, if this is for yesterday,” Kaito looked at him, a faint smile touching his lips,. “We all make mistakes, Aki. It’s how we learn. The important thing is that you’re trying.”

Akihiko met his brother’s gaze, feeling a bit of the tension in his chest ease. “Thanks, Kaito. I needed to hear that.” 

They settled into conversation. “What did you think of the last meeting?” Akihiko asked.

 “The tensions feel like they’ve been growing forever, but nothing has happened.”

Kaito’s eyes darkened slightly with suspicion. “We should be cautious with Saito, Aki. There’s something off about him. While he had father’s best interests at heart, does he have yours? He wasn't very enthusiastic about me coming here 15 years ago and I feel that his views have never changed” Kaito was worried about Saito’s intentions—but perhaps Akihiko thought, he should be worried about Akihiko’s too.