"Are there any changes?"
Yu's voice drifted across the garden as I crouched beside the trough, my attention fixed on the rows of young plants.
Morning sunlight had only just climbed over the roof. It stretched across the vegetable beds in long strips of gold, leaving the earth beneath the eaves cool and damp. The smell of fresh soil lingered in the still air, mixing with the faint sweetness of growing leaves.
I leaned closer.
"The colouring is a bit different."
I reached toward the propagated radishes, brushing the tip of one leaf with my finger before looking at the neighbouring trough where the original crop grew.
The difference was subtle.
So subtle that I might have convinced myself I had imagined it if the two hadn't been growing side by side.
The propagated leaves carried a slightly paler green.
Not unhealthy.
Just...
Different.
"Oh?"
Yu remained where she stood near the porch instead of coming closer.
"Is that bad?"
"Hmm..."
I rubbed one leaf gently between my fingers before repeating the motion on a leaf from the original plants.
The texture felt almost identical.
The veins followed the same pattern.
The stems held themselves with the same firmness.
Only the colour refused to match.
"I don't know."
I sat back on my heels.
"The colour is the only difference."
My gaze moved from one trough to the other again.
"But..."
I rose slowly, brushing loose soil from my knees.
"I don't know whether such a small change would affect the crop's properties."
The words hung quietly between us.
Neither of us knew enough to answer them.
Yu watched the plants for another moment before smoothing the front of her yukata.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out."
There wasn't blind confidence in her voice.
Just calm certainty that I would continue trying until I learned something.
She turned toward the house.
"I only came to let you know breakfast is almost ready."
"Oh."
I looked up from the plants.
"All right."
"I'll be there shortly."
She nodded once before sliding the door open.
The sound of wood moving against its track echoed softly across the yard before disappearing again as the door closed behind her.
The garden settled back into silence.
I crossed to the next trough.
The beetroot seedlings stood healthier than they had during the previous gathering. Their leaves had broadened, catching the morning light as a gentle breeze stirred them one after another.
"They seem to be doing well."
Near the edge of the trough another weed had begun forcing its way through the soil.
I pinched it free before it could establish itself.
The earth released it with little resistance.
"It would seem the propagated radishes are my only concern."
I glanced toward them once more.
The difference still bothered me.
Not because it appeared dangerous—
Because I couldn't explain it.
Knowledge always seemed to stop one step before certainty.
Perhaps...
The Assessor.
He had answered stranger questions before.
"If I still can't understand it by the next Fair..."
I let the sentence finish itself inside my head.
"...I'll ask him."
There was no shame in admitting the limits of my own understanding.
With that thought tucked away for later, I brushed the last traces of dirt from my hands and stepped inside.
───
Breakfast passed quietly.
The familiar rhythm of bowls being placed on the table.
Tea steaming gently.
The soft scrape of chopsticks against ceramic.
Conversation wandered briefly from the garden to the coming Fair before dissolving into comfortable silence once more.
Afterward, I found myself reaching almost unconsciously toward the weapon resting beside my things.
I slipped the tanto into my sash before stepping back outside.
The sheath settled comfortably against my waist.
It still felt...
Ordinary.
As though nothing had changed since the day I purchased it.
I rested one hand lightly on the hilt while strolling across the yard.
The chicken wandered nearby, scratching lazily at the ground beneath the fence.
"Cluck."
Its sudden protest broke the quiet.
I smiled faintly.
"Does carrying you around do nothing?"
The question escaped before I realized I had spoken aloud.
I sighed.
"Did I really spend all that money on an ordinary blade?"
The thought had visited me more than once over the past several days.
"I could have bought something much better with that amount."
I drew the blade partway from its sheath.
Morning sunlight caught the polished steel immediately.
The familiar metallic reflection shimmered along its edge.
I turned it slightly.
Still nothing.
Just steel.
Just a knife.
"..."
Then I blinked.
"What..."
The silver sheen faded.
Not all at once.
It washed slowly across the blade as though someone had poured watered milk over polished metal.
The reflection dulled.
The colour softened.
Within seconds the steel resembled old paper left untouched for decades.
White.
Not brilliant white.
The warm, quiet white of aged parchment.
My breath caught.
The transformation lasted only a heartbeat.
Then, just as gently, the whiteness receded.
Silver returned.
The polished steel reflected the morning sun exactly as before.
"...What was that?"
I tightened my grip instinctively.
My pulse thudded loudly inside my ears.
The yard remained unchanged.
The breeze continued moving through the vegetables.
The chicken pecked unconcernedly at the ground.
Nothing else had reacted.
I slowly released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"I suppose..."
I looked down at the blade once more.
"I didn't buy an ordinary knife after all."
The realization settled somewhere between relief and uncertainty.
Whatever the spirit was...
It clearly existed.
I slid the tanto carefully back into its sheath.
The warmth I'd expected never came.
Nor any explanation.
Only questions.
I rested a hand briefly against the hilt before returning my attention to the garden.
The sun climbed steadily overhead, no longer hiding shyly behind the morning mist.
Its light spread across the fields beyond the house, turning every patch of dew into tiny points of gold.
I quietly filed the strange occurrence away beside every other unanswered mystery the blade had already given me.
There would be time to understand it later.
For now...
The beetroot still needed tending.
───
The afternoon found me seated beneath the shade with Hisato.
A small basket of tangerines rested between us.
The air carried the warmth of the day, though the breeze drifting through the trees kept it from becoming uncomfortable.
Hisato peeled a tangerine carefully, working his thumb beneath the skin until it separated in long curling strips.
"I heard Ae-Ra will be studying in the capital."
I accepted one of the peeled segments he offered.
"Her father mentioned it."
I placed it into my mouth.
"Have you decided where you'd like to study?"
Hisato nodded.
"Yes."
He separated another piece.
"She's hoping to work at a bank."
"A banker..."
I repeated the word with a quiet chuckle.
The image amused me for reasons I couldn't immediately explain.
Hisato paused.
His hand stopped halfway to his mouth.
"What's funny, Father?"
"Oh."
I smiled, shaking my head.
"It's nothing."
I ate another piece of fruit.
"I simply found the idea of a banker amusing."
He watched me for another moment.
"Is it because..."
He hesitated.
"...we lost the farm to the bank?"
The smile faded from my face.
For a moment I simply looked at him.
He hadn't spoken accusingly.
Only carefully.
As though he had wondered about it for some time.
I drew a slow breath.
"You did nothing wrong."
The words came quietly.
"I don't regret what I did."
I looked out across the fields before continuing.
"That's why I can laugh about it now."
Silence settled between us.
"If I had to make the same decision again..."
I turned back toward him.
"I would."
Hisato lowered his eyes to the fruit in his hands.
Neither of us spoke for a little while.
Only the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds filled the space between us.
Finally I broke the silence.
"What about studying in the capital yourself?"
His head lifted immediately.
"Your mother told me you'd like to go."
A smile found my face.
"I think it makes sense."
After everything he'd endured...
After spending so long confined indoors...
The thought of him building a future elsewhere no longer felt frightening.
Instead...
It felt right.
Hisato continued looking at me as though he wasn't entirely certain he had heard correctly.
"You've spent enough time confined to one place," I said, my voice quieter now. "A change of scenery would do you good."
A breeze wandered through the trees overhead, stirring the leaves before passing on across the yard. The scent of citrus lingered between us from the fruit we had been peeling, its sweetness hanging lightly in the afternoon air.
Hisato blinked.
"I... can go to school in the capital?"
There was something almost childlike in the question, as if he expected the answer to be taken back the moment it was spoken.
I smiled.
"Why, of course."
I picked up another tangerine and rolled it once between my palms before handing it to him.
"You'll go there for one reason."
He accepted it carefully.
"To study your books."
A grin spread slowly across his face.
The expression reached his eyes before he spoke.
"I'd like that."
"I thought you would."
He looked down at the fruit again, his fingers beginning to peel it with renewed enthusiasm.
"You'd make a fine lawyer someday."
The words escaped naturally.
"I really believe that."
His shoulders straightened a little.
It wasn't pride.
Not exactly.
More like someone quietly allowing themselves to imagine a future they had been afraid to hope for.
For a while we remained beneath the shade, finishing the basket one piece at a time while talking about little things—the capital, what studying there might be like, whether the journey would feel frightening or exciting.
Neither of us knew.
But for the first time, the unknown seemed to carry more promise than fear.
Later that evening, Yu sat at the low table with paper spread neatly before her.
The brush moved steadily through fresh ink before returning to the page in careful strokes.
Columns of figures slowly filled the sheet.
I placed my teacup down gently to avoid disturbing her concentration.
"So..."
She continued writing for another moment before glancing toward me.
"You're all right with Hisato going?"
"I thought you might want him somewhere closer."
I leaned back slightly.
The warm tea settled comfortably in my hands.
"I thought about it."
The answer came honestly.
"But..."
I watched her brush pause briefly over the paper.
"I don't want to burden him."
His future wasn't mine to shape.
Only mine to support.
"I'll simply give him what he needs."
"The rest belongs to him."
She nodded faintly before returning to the figures.
The scratching of the brush resumed.
"Hmm..."
"Seven..."
She counted quietly beneath her breath.
"...perhaps nine years."
Another figure appeared.
"We should be able to cover the cost."
I listened without interrupting.
She had always been better with numbers than I was.
After another moment she rested the brush across its stand.
"I've been thinking."
I looked up.
"Perhaps I should find work."
The room fell unexpectedly still.
"I don't have to spend every day looking after Hisato anymore."
She lifted her teacup.
"An extra source of income wouldn't be a bad thing."
The words made perfect sense.
Practical.
Measured.
Reasonable.
Yet something inside my chest tightened before I had time to understand why.
She noticed my silence.
"I could work as a clerk."
For a moment I simply looked at her.
The image formed easily enough.
Yu leaving early each morning.
Returning late.
Working long hours for someone else's business.
The thought unsettled me more than I expected.
Not because I believed she couldn't.
She certainly could.
Rather...
Because the house had always felt somehow anchored by her presence.
I turned my cup slowly between my hands.
"If..."
The word lingered for a moment.
"If that's what you'd like..."
I met her eyes.
"...then I'm all right with it."
Another pause.
"But don't push yourself too hard."
A gentle smile appeared.
"I won't."
She took another sip of tea before lifting the brush once again.
The conversation drifted away with surprising ease.
Soon the only sound remaining was the soft movement of ink across paper.
The next Fair arrived before long.
Once again I found myself following the familiar coastal road.
The sea remained hidden beyond the hills, yet its steady roar traveled inland on the evening breeze, rising and falling like distant breathing.
The cart rolled onward at its patient pace.
The wheels found every rut they had found before.
The horse scarcely needed guidance anymore.
The route had become as familiar to both of us as the path between home and the garden.
The tanto rested quietly at my side.
Even without understanding it completely, I found comfort in its presence.
Perhaps that alone justified the purchase.
The sun slipped steadily toward the horizon.
Gold faded into amber.
Amber surrendered to violet.
By the time darkness settled over the road, the lantern hanging from my cart had become my only steady light.
The night itself didn't trouble me as much as it once had.
Not anymore.
I adjusted the reins loosely.
The road stretched ahead.
Quiet.
Empty.
Then—
Warmth.
I stiffened.
The sensation came from my left side.
The hilt.
The tanto.
"What...?"
Instinct tightened every muscle in my body.
The horse sensed it immediately, slowing as I unconsciously drew back on the reins.
I looked sharply into the darkness lining both sides of the road.
Trees.
Brush.
Shadows.
Nothing moved.
For one brief moment my mind leapt toward the worst possibility.
Someone's here.
The warmth remained.
Not painful.
Simply...
Present.
I listened.
Only the horse's breathing.
The creaking of the cart.
The distant surf.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No rustling hidden among the trees.
Gradually my grip on the reins loosened.
The panic faded just enough for another thought to surface.
"...Are you..."
I rested a hand lightly on the sheath.
"...reading the road?"
The warmth continued beneath my fingers.
Curious now rather than frightened, I eased the blade partly from its sheath.
Moonlight spilled across the exposed steel.
Once again the colour changed.
Not the warm parchment white I'd witnessed in the garden.
This time...
The blade reflected the pale glow of the moon itself.
Soft silver-white.
Almost luminous.
It reminded me strangely of a dog's alert eyes catching light in the darkness.
"...Interesting."
I slid it back into place.
"Another set of eyes."
The thought made me smile despite myself.
"Watching the road with me."
Whether that interpretation was correct, I had no way of knowing.
Still...
The warmth gradually faded.
Nothing emerged from the darkness.
No ambush.
No beast.
No traveler.
Only the familiar road continuing beneath the night sky.
"It seems there was nothing after all."
I let out a slow breath.
Ahead, the first lanterns of the Fair finally appeared, glowing like scattered stars against the darkness.
Only then did the last of the tension leave my shoulders.
The closer I drew to the Fair, the more the familiar sounds of gathering voices carried across the evening air.
Lanterns lined the entrance in warm rows, their light swaying gently with each passing breeze. Merchants guided carts into place while customers wandered between half-finished stalls, the smell of grilled fish, fresh bread, and burning charcoal drifting together into a scent that had become inseparable from these gatherings.
By now, setting up my own stall required little thought.
The movements came one after another through habit.
Unload the baskets.
Arrange the vegetables.
Straighten the scales.
Brush away the dust that had settled during the journey.
Before long, the first customers arrived.
Business settled into its familiar rhythm.
Some stopped only briefly before moving on.
Others lingered to ask after the latest harvest or compare the vegetables before making their choice.
Time slipped quietly by.
Only when the flow of customers thinned did I finally step away from the stall.
"I'll be back in a little while."
Mr. Asano looked up from arranging his own produce.
"I'll keep an eye on things."
"Thank you."
I adjusted the satchel hanging at my side before making my way through the lantern-lit rows toward the Assessor's pavilion.
The propagated radish rested carefully wrapped inside.
───
The Assessor's workspace looked much as it always had.
Orderly.
Clean.
Every tool seemed to possess an assigned place, and every sheet of paper lay stacked with deliberate precision.
He adjusted his spectacles as I approached.
"Good evening."
"Good evening."
I bowed lightly before removing the radish from its wrapping.
"I was hoping you could examine this."
He accepted it without comment.
The vegetable disappeared into his hands as naturally as though he had expected another unusual request from me.
He began where he always did.
His fingers tested its firmness.
He turned it beneath the lantern light, studying the skin from several angles before pausing to inspect the leaves.
Nothing about his movements appeared hurried.
He simply observed.
Patiently.
Methodically.
The silence stretched for several moments.
Finally he spoke.
"This is measurably different from the original crop."
He rotated it once more.
"But it retains the same underlying property."
Another pause.
"Perhaps..."
He searched briefly for the right wording.
"...with a slightly different expression."
He lowered the radish onto the table.
"Not diminished."
His eyes lifted toward me.
"Simply not identical."
I listened carefully.
Every answer he gave seemed to solve one question while quietly introducing another.
He folded his hands together.
"Second-generation grafting often produces variation."
His tone remained as professionally neutral as ever.
"That isn't unusual."
I nodded slowly.
"So the propagation worked."
"It did."
"But not perfectly."
"There is no perfect copy."
He said it as though stating the weather.
Matter-of-fact.
Unemotional.
Simply true.
I accepted the radish back from him.
"Thank you."
He inclined his head politely.
"You're welcome."
As always, I left carrying only half an answer.
Yet somehow...
This one felt more satisfying than the last.
Not because I understood everything.
Because I understood a little more than before.
That was enough.
For now.
───
When I returned to the stall, Mr. Asano glanced over.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes."
I set the wrapped radish back among my belongings.
"Just another answer leading to another question."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"That sounds about right."
I laughed quietly.
"It usually is."
His eyes drifted briefly toward the tanto resting at my waist.
The glance lasted only a moment.
He didn't ask about it.
Nor comment on it.
He simply acknowledged its presence before returning his attention to the customers approaching his stall.
Somehow...
That restraint suited him.
I resumed my own work.
The hours passed steadily beneath the lanterns.
The conversation with the Assessor remained in the back of my thoughts while I weighed vegetables and accepted coins from familiar faces.
Variation.
Not identical.
The words continued turning over quietly in my mind.
Perhaps...
That described more than plants.
───
By the time dawn approached, the Fair had begun folding itself away once again.
Lanterns disappeared one after another.
Merchants packed their remaining goods.
The lively voices that had filled the night slowly gave way to the quieter sounds of carts preparing for the journey home.
I secured the last of my produce before climbing onto the driver's seat.
The horse started forward with little encouragement.
Morning arrived gradually.
The eastern sky brightened from deep violet into soft orange, sunlight spreading across the horizon until the first warmth touched the road ahead.
The journey home felt easier than the one before.
The tanto rested quietly at my side.
No warmth.
No strange change of colour.
Only the reassuring weight of its presence.
The sea accompanied me for much of the journey, hidden behind distant hills but never truly absent.
By the time the familiar outline of the house appeared, the sun had already climbed above the rooftops.
Its light poured across the garden, catching the beetroot leaves and making the dew shimmer before slowly disappearing into the warmth of the morning.
I guided the cart into place.
The horse gave a quiet snort as it came to a stop.
Before I could climb down completely, the front door slid open.
───
Sunlight reached across the room, warming my face.
I stirred.
The brightness pressing through my eyelids slowly drew me awake.
The smell of breakfast drifted through the house, carried gently by the morning air.
I rubbed my eyes before sitting up on the futon.
A long yawn escaped me.
"Ugh..."
For a moment I remained seated, letting my thoughts catch up with the day.
Then I turned toward the window.
Outside came the familiar sound of hooves against the earth.
Steady.
Unhurried.
Accompanied by the creaking of a cart.
Birds chirped somewhere beyond the garden, their calls overlapping one another in the fresh morning air.
I smiled to myself.
"It seems Father is back."
Throwing the blanket aside, I rose from the futon and made my way toward the door, the scent of breakfast growing stronger with every step. The quiet of the house gave way to the promise of another ordinary morning, while outside, the sound of the returning cart slowly came to rest.