Sakura is sitting on the stairs when I walk outside the next day.  The book that Emi had included with her letter is sitting in her lap as she stares off towards the trees.

I take a seat next to her, accepting the hand that she stretches out towards me.  "Did you sleep well, Sakura?"

She leans against my shoulder with a soft sigh.  "For a while.  When the dreams started, I got up and come out here with this book.  I did not want to test Osamu by sneaking into your room, and I did not want to disturb the others' rest."

"You should have come and woken me up," I whisper, resting my head against hers.  "I would have sat up with you until you fell asleep."

Sakura raises weary eyes to mine.  "That should not be your responsibility.  You were not the one who caused the memories that haunt me.  I chose to tell Hikaru the truth, and it shall be me who pays for that mistake."

"It is fine to admit when you cannot handle something on your own, Sakura," I answer.  "I am not your father.  I am willing to help, not force you to find your own solution.  It hurts me to see you broken like this."

She returns her head to my shoulder, tucking an arm around my back.  I see her eyes dart down to the open pages in her lap, and I pick up the book, shifting it so we can both see the words.

It is a passage about love, one that confounds me more the further that I read.  "I see no evidence of all these things," I say finally.  "All too often, love is jealous, love is painful, and love is frequently shattered.  Why, then, does the writer speak of this perfect love as if it exists?"

"Because it does exist," a soft voice replies from behind us.  "We, in our short lives, are unable to comprehend such perfection because all we see is a flawed version of love.  Even when we love someone with our entire being, we often end up hurting the person.  We collect debts against them, fire words against them, and stand up against them."

Bashira moves past us to sit on a lower step before gazing up.  "My grandfather planted this stand of trees before my mother was born.  His father had tried to do the same, but he failed continuously.  He would tend them for the first few years before leaving them be, believing that they would be able to support themselves.  My grandfather spent day after day, year after year, tending those trees until he knew beyond all doubt that they would thrive."

"What do trees have to do with perfect love?" Sakura asks, staring off towards the trees that we had journeyed through the day before.

"They have everything to do with love.  My grandfather realized that in order for the trees to survive, they needed to have deep roots.  If his father had spent even a few more years caring for his trees, they would yet live.

"It is the same with love.  Anyone can fall in love with someone else, but unless you have a deep connection binding you to each other, your love will eventually wither and die.  Yes, your love will never be as perfect as the love that the writer describes, but the whole point of the passage is to show you what love is supposed to be," Bashira says, tapping the page lightly.  "Only by focusing on all these traits each day can we begin to understand what perfect love looks like."

When she says the last words, one of her hands touches a chain about her throat lightly.  I had not noted it until her gesture drew attention to it.  Her gaze becomes unfocused as if she is seeing something that the rest of us are unable to perceive.

After a moment, a wistful smile caresses her lips, and Bashira asks, "How were the shinobi when you went to see them?  I have not been to their village since...for a long while."

"They seemed well when we were there," Sakura replies.  "There were more children I expected though.  Why is that, if you know, Bashira?"

"The man who used to command the shinobi, before Emi and Masumo, had begun taking in children in the later part of his life.  Many of those they trained then and those they trained now are orphans or were sold to the shinobi," she whispers the last bit, almost as if she fears saying the words too loudly.

Sakura jolts forward.  "Sold?  They buy children?"

"They buy children to keep them from worse situations, not to force them into a life they don't want.  They give them a chance to choose a better life than they could have had before that.  Saiko started out with the shinobi that way."

Again, her hand drifts towards the chain about her neck when she says Saiko's name.  I can see that the motion has caught Sakura's attention as well.

"How soon do you think that your father would consent to marry the two of us?" I ask, directing attention away from the subject of the shinobi and most especially Saiko.

"As soon as he agrees to marry us," Rika says from behind us, and we all turn to see her holding Tadashi's hand.  "I am not leaving here without the guarantee that they cannot separate the two of us again."

Sakura untangles her arm from around me and stands up.  "If you are wed here, there is nothing stopping them from saying that you never actually married."

"No one can do so if the Amachi clan's trusted general confirms that the wedding was legal and binding.  No one would doubt the word of Lord Igarashi Ryuu," Tadashi replies, confidently, meeting her eyes without any doubt.

I see Sakura open her mouth once more to argue, but I rise and place a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "Let them have their happiness, Sakura.  Do not ruin that right now."

She whirls around, a sharp retort already on her tongue.  I do not even allow the words to emerge, clamping my mouth down on hers to muffle the sound.

"Let them have their happiness," I whisper again when I break away.  "All too soon will the danger and sadness tarnish these moments, and they will never be able to gain them back."

She seems to read more in that statement than I ever wanted her to as she wraps her arms tight around me.  "They cannot ever take away love, Ryuu.  I will fight against that as long as breath circulates through my body, and I expect you to do the same."

"The only way that I am marrying anyone is if they can answer some questions for me, and I can assure that there will be no negative legal challenges coming back to haunt me," Osamu breaks in, his staff hitting the boards punctuating the statement.

The five of us turn as one to look towards the older man.  Rika is the first to break the silence that blankets after his statement.  "What kind of negative legal challenges are you speaking of, Yamane Osamu?"

"The kind that occurs if I marry siblings or an aunt to a nephew.  So you better speak up if anything like that applies to any of the four of you."

I shake my head before remembering that he is unable to see the gesture.  "I know that Sakura and I are not related in any way, and I figure that Rika and Junichi are not either."

Osamu walks from the door to settle into his chair, jabbing a finger in my direction.  "The general speaks the truth.  Can I expect the same from everyone here?  If I hear even one statement that rings of untruth, I will refuse to even consider the act of wedding anyone present."

Bashira weaves her way up to him, kneeling gracefully at his feet.  "Do not be too harsh to them, Father.  Sometimes the untruths we tell originate not from our own minds but from what we have been told repeatedly."

"I shall judge that for myself, daughter," he answers, resting a gentle hand upon her head.  "Even you still feel the sting from years ago, a time when I was more eager and less cautious."

She visibly shrinks but does not argue with his words, the gentle rebuke that they were meant to be.  Osamu's eyes move back up to our general direction.  "Come sit down.  I cannot promise that the questions I ask will not be digging into old scars, but you may refrain from answering if you wish."

Without listening to her slight protest, I pick Sakura up and settle on the floor with her in front of the empty chairs that Rika and Tadashi fill.  The former clings tightly to the latter's hand, a painful expression flashing across her face.

"Lady Fujioka Rika," Osamu says lightly, words barely carrying, "you could have chosen any one of the men that your father and brothers continually paraded in front of you.  Why then did you choose someone that the world would consider a great deal beneath you?"

Sakura presses her back closer to me like she is trying to dissolve into me to hide from what he is going to eventually ask her.  Meanwhile, Rika is clearly at a loss for words.

"I do not believe in the world's assessment of people's worth," she answers at long last, the words making us all flinch as they hit the air.  "I never fell in love with any one of the men that my father or my brothers would have had me wed.  My heart belonged to one who belonged out in the field, one who I remembered on days when I was lonely and missing my mother.

"I would rather have a man who is willing to work and possibly die than one who will send others out into the fields or to battle.  I have met few among the lords of the clans who would be at the head of the battle and who would return just as bloody as any one of his men."

I move my head enough to see Rika's eyes, which are shining with passion.  "That is why I chose someone that others would not necessarily consider to be on my level in the world.  I know that if he leaves me, he will return to me when his task is done.  If he dies, he will die on the battlefield, surrounded by the men that he fought with.  I would rather know either of those things than wonder if my husband has found solace in a concubine or has run from the battlefield like a coward."

"Very good," Osamu says after the last echo of her words have faded.  "Thank you, Rika.  Now, Lord Igarashi Ryuu, why have you not told Sakura about the letter?"

My world narrows to the size of a grain of rice, and my mind flickers back to those final days with surprising clarity.

Four Years Earlier

"You are too harsh with Junichi," my father says to Lord Amachi.  "The child has excelled at everything that you have required, yet since Lady Amachi died, I have not heard a word of praise from you."

Their silhouettes are splashed against the wall by candlelight, and Lord Amachi rises to begin pacing.  "Junichi will only become able to command the clan if he does not expect someone to praise him every time he does something correctly."

"Jun needs to know that you love him.  It is not a sign of weakness to admit that you love someone, milord," he answers.

"You are correct, Nobuo.  It is not a weakness to admit that you love someone; it is a weakness to love someone in the beginning.  I have watched you refuse woman after woman because you are still thinking that your son's mother will come running back to you."

My father stands up as well.  "I will wait until the day I die for her to return to me.  That is what love is, and you have chosen to close yourself off from it because you are afraid.  It is all right to admit that you are hurting after someone you love dies, it is all right to admit that you are fearful that your child will meet the same fate, and it is all right to admit that you are..."

"Enough!" Lord Amachi booms.  "You have made yourself clear, Nobuo.  Now, have you come to merely berate me like I am a wayward child, or is there something more important?"

"I gave the letter to Taro.  I do not agree with the decision to have something like that documented."

Jun's father sighed.  "I worry about what the future brings.  I would at least feel better if someone else knew in the instance that one or both of us dies."

"Anyone could find the letter, and that will bring more troubles down upon us, milord.  It is best to let Junichi decide whether or not to tell."

"Taro will keep it safe," Lord Amachi states, but there is decisively less confidence in his voice than earlier.  "Hopefully, the battlefield will not claim our lives, but I must know that Junichi knows if it does.  That is my weakness, Nobuo: my only child.  And I fear that the fact will only become clear when I have breathed my last on the earth."

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving!