The sky was gray when we left the estate. Mist rolled down the hills like slow smoke, curling around the wisteria gates before disappearing into the trees.
The air smelled of rain and steel.
Muichiro walked ahead, the sound of his sandals soft against the dirt path. His sword was strapped across his back, his haori open to the wind.
I followed, clutching the small travel pack Shinobu had given me. "You're quiet," I said finally.
"I usually am."
"I meant quieter than usual."
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes softer than before. "I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About how it feels to leave the estate," he said. "And how I don't like that you're walking behind me."
I blinked. "Why not?"
He stopped and turned slightly toward me. "Because I can't see your face that way."
The words were so simple, but they left me speechless.
Muichiro waited, then said, almost shyly, "Walk beside me."
I stepped forward until our shoulders nearly touched. The mist thinned as we moved together, like it was making space for us.
By midday, we reached a clearing surrounded by tall cedars. A small stream ran through it, clear and cold. Muichiro stopped beside it and set down his pack.
"We'll rest here," he said.
I knelt by the stream to wash my hands. The water was freezing but clean. When I looked up, Muichiro was watching me.
"What?" I asked.
He shook his head slightly. "Nothing. Just—" he hesitated, "you look peaceful here."
"Peaceful?" I laughed a little. "That's not a word people use for me."
"It fits," he said simply.
He sat down across from me, sword across his knees, eyes calm and thoughtful. "You've changed since the wedding."
"So have you."
He tilted his head. "Have I?"
"Yes," I said. "You actually talk now."
That made him laugh softly, a real sound, low and quiet. "I guess that's true."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy this time. It felt easy. The kind that didn't need to be filled.
Then Muichiro looked at me again, and his voice turned serious. "Do you regret it?"
"What?"
"The wedding. The bond."
I shook my head. "No."
He studied my face, as if searching for something there. "Good. Because I don't either."
He looked away, then back again. "I didn't expect to care this much about someone again."
The words hit me harder than I expected. "You care?"
He nodded once, very slightly. "Yes. You're different. You make me remember things I thought I forgot—warm things."
I didn't know what to say. My heart thudded quietly.
"Muichiro," I said softly.
He looked at me.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Do you ever get scared?"
His eyes lowered. "All the time. I just don't show it."
"What scares you?"
"Losing what I finally found." His voice was steady, but the meaning behind it wasn't.
The mist around us drifted slowly between the trees.
I reached out and placed my hand over his where it rested on his sword. "You won't lose me."
He looked down at our hands, then at me. "I'll hold you to that."
For the first time, he smiled—soft and clear, the kind that changed his whole face.
By late afternoon, the light turned gold. We walked side by side again, the road bending toward the mountains.
"Do you hear that?" I asked after a while.
Muichiro tilted his head. "The bell?"
A faint sound drifted on the wind—one low, distant chime.
"It's the northern shrine," he said. "We're close."
"Only one bell," I murmured.
He nodded. "That's a good sign."
We walked until the trees grew thick again, shadows stretching long across the path. He stopped suddenly and motioned for me to stay still.
"What is it?" I whispered.
He didn't answer, only raised a hand toward the mist ahead. The air shimmered slightly, like heat on stone. Then it cleared, and the shape of a man appeared—Sanemi.
"Well, look who's still breathing," he said with a grin. "You move fast for newlyweds."
Muichiro sighed quietly. "Why are you here?"
"The Master sent me," Sanemi said, resting his hand on his sword hilt. "Said you might need backup."
"We don't."
"Didn't think you'd say thanks," Sanemi muttered. Then he turned his eyes on me. "You look different, too. Guess marriage suits you."
"Sanemi," Muichiro said warningly.
He smirked. "Relax, I'm not here to steal your wife." His tone softened a little. "But if the mist gets ugly again, I'd rather it go through me first."
Muichiro paused, then nodded once. "Fine. But stay out of our way."
"No promises," Sanemi said, but he fell into step beside us anyway.
The three of us walked in silence for a while. The road curved toward a bridge, the sun dipping lower behind the trees.
When Sanemi moved ahead, scouting the path, Muichiro leaned closer to me and whispered, "Stay near me tonight. The air here feels wrong."
"I always stay near you," I said quietly.
He looked down at me, and for the first time, his expression wasn't distant—it was warm, even tender. "I know," he said. "That's why I'm not afraid."
The wind caught his hair then, silver strands brushing my shoulder.
And for a brief, quiet second, I saw what no one else did—Muichiro not as the calm, untouchable Hashira, but as a man learning how to feel again.
The mist thickened ahead, curling around the bridge like it was waiting.
He reached out, fingers brushing mine just once before he stepped forward. "Come on," he said. "Let's see what waits for us."
And together, we crossed into the fading light.