A day before his burial, while cleaning his room, Miyuki found an envelope amongst his things. She found it strange because he barely wrote. Who would he have even written to? And on top of that, there was a lump inside it.
Curiosity drove her to open the seal of the envelope, and inside she found a folded piece of paper and a small circular green pin.
She unfolded the paper and found it to be written in his handwriting. She knew it well, for it was the only handwriting she had ever actually seen in her life.
It was a letter that read:
"To anyone reading this letter, I offer my greetings."
She stood up straighter and took on a more serious expression.
"Part of being a warrior is navigating the sea of uncertainty," it read. "That would be true whether or not we were steeped in a conflict such as this."
She paused for a second to take a breath, her fingers nervously clutching the piece of paper.
"You must have seen it by now, what true conflict in this world looks like. If only we could escape from it all, then I wouldn't be forced to take such measures."
A gulp went down her throat.
"Being prepared for the worst-case scenario is a core aspect of a life such as this, so that is what I'm doing now. If it's me who falls out there when we take on these opponents, then don't wallow or grieve over me."
Her eyes opened wide.
"I know that's a difficult thing to ask, but you don't have time to grow complacent. There are still so many things you need to uncover, so much left that you need to do. Don't waste it all in a place like this."
"What are you saying?" she thought. "Do you want me to abandon you too after I couldn't save you?"
"You can call it paranoia, but I guess it's just me being pessimistic. Staying in the village will only attract danger to you, so after thinking long and hard, I think it's time."
Her arms started to tense as she read the next paragraph.
"To the north of the village, past the rainforest, go to the Mastuhito Mountains. That is where you will find them."
"He doesn't mean—" she thought before continuing.
"The Ashura Samurai Corps' sanctuary, the Seiiki."
She stopped in shock.
"I wish that we were under better circumstances. Then we would have gone there together. Maybe we still will if my pessimism fails to pan out. But if not, then I'm sorry."
She started tearing up.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't stay with you longer. It makes me ashamed as a role model, but maybe you can learn something from those mistakes of mine too."
The tears started streaming down her cheeks.
"To Miyuki, I'm sorry that I wasn't a good enough father to you. You already had life so tough only to be handicapped by a failure like me. If only she was the one who raised you and not me, I'm sure you would have turned out better."
Teardrops fell onto the wooden floor.
"Whether it's a dream or an ambition, find what it is that drives you and let it guide you through the darkest of storms. That pin in the envelope is my last gift to you. Take good care of it."
She fell to her knees.
"Goodbye, Miyuki, and thank you for putting up with a father like me."
A teardrop fell onto his name at the end. She clutched the pin tightly and wiped her tears.
She folded the letter and put it back into the envelope before tucking it away into her robe.
A day after the burial, she stood in her room as she put on a brown hooded cloak over her uniform. She clutched the hilt of the sword at her waist and turned away.
She reached out to the handle of the door to open it, but she froze. What would be waiting for her on the other side, she wondered.
But when she opened it, there was nothing but an empty hallway. She stepped into it and slid the door shut behind her before walking toward the entrance.
The light of the sun outside shone on her face and she squinted her eyes as she covered them with the shadow of her hand.
She stepped away from the door and looked ahead to see Izumi, Yuriko, and Takae also wearing those same brown hooded cloaks and carrying large bags.
Standing beside them was Juro, who was holding onto Mei's wheelchair with her on it. They were wearing their regular robes.
"Are you ready?" Yuriko asked as she walked toward her.
"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess," she replied without much thought.
"Are you sure about this?" Mei asked.
"She's right," Juro added. "You can just stay here with us. There is no reason for you to leave."
"Staying here will only put you guys in danger," Izumi said. "Besides, we aren't a good fit here either."
Mei sighed and looked down toward her lap in the wheelchair.
"I never got to thank him properly," she said after a brief silence, "for saving my life or for making me this."
She took her hands off the armrests and passed them over the large wagon-like wheels.
"It's okay," Miyuki said. "You can just hold onto that thanks until we meet him again, however long that might be."
"Are you really going to stay here?" Takae asked them.
"For the time being, yes," Juro replied. "The old chief promised that he could keep the villagers off our backs."
"What then?" Yuriko asked.
He gripped the handles tightly and said, "We're going back home."
"But it's—" Izumi said before stopping.
"I know," he replied, "but there's no other place we'd rather be."
Looking at the concerned expressions on their faces, Mei said, "Don't worry, we'll make sure to fix it up into the place we remember before you come back."
"And you better come back," she added.
"Of course we will," Yuriko said with a smile.
"Do you guys have everything?" Miyuki asked, to which they nodded. "Let's get going then."
She turned to Mei and Juro and said, "Make sure you take good care of this place, you guys."
She turned to the house with a faint smile.
"And feel free to stay here if your plans ever do change."
"Right," Juro said as the two bowed. "Thank you for everything you've done for us."
"Take good care of yourselves," Izumi said. "And Juro, don't be in any rush, you hear?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied nervously.
They waved and started walking away.
Juro watched them leave, and he looked down at Mei, who was still waving.
He placed his hand over the bandage on his eye and thought, "Whenever something bad would happen, I always felt this wound burn up."
"I feel it less and less as time goes by. What does that mean for us and for you?"
He stared at their vanishing silhouettes with his one eye, without an answer.
When was it that the deafening silence that plagued them began to waver? Not in sound, but in the weight it carried.
It was when the echoes of guilt and regret began ringing out in their hearts.