act44side

Your analysis was very clear, very rational. I fully understood what you were saying, and how you got to this point.

But the clearer and more rational it is, the less I could believe it...

Is this really you? Or is this all one final act of madness, written and directed by yourself, so that I would believe that this is the kind of person you are?

Uncle Tessai said you were faking it when you cut off your little finger that day in Kajimachi. I didn't believe it.

But now, I really want to know... how many fingers are there under your left glove?

The Phidia freezes.

He stares into Hoshiguma's eyes, as though waiting for her to avert her gaze.

Realizing that it is pointless, he snorts and displays his left hand in front of him, before slowly removing his glove.

A little finger made of machinery rather than flesh and blood trembles where the pinkie should be.

I want to tell you that the little finger I cut off had been with me for decades, but you wouldn't believe it, would you?

Haha... very good, very good.

Of all the things you said, there's only one that has a little bit of value.

Honor... is a personal thing.

Are you done?

Yeah.

If you've got any men hiding out here, now would be a good time to holler for them.

There's only me. No one in hiding, no traps, no tricks.

Is the life of a media mogul, a politician's favorite, the oyabun of the Kinsekikai, something to be taken so lightly?

Mogul? Not for long.

Politician? You made sure to put an end to that personally.

Oyabun of the Kinsekikai? Remind me who crashed the accession ceremony again?

If you think I've been acting, congratulations, because I'm tired of it.

I'm just a yakuza. A yakuza backed into a corner.

If that's the only death I can have, then I would have a clean death... a beautiful death.

Even if everything you've done up to this point was one big pile of dishonor?

I'm not talking about honor—that rusty piece of trash floating around your and Tessai's heads.

I'm talking about beauty.

What's about to happen may not compare to making a son watch his father die for him, but you cannot deny...

There's a beauty to a duel by the riverside, under the fireworks, the blood spilling on the banks, perhaps even a head flying into the air.

Don't worry, Hoshiguma. In the event that I'm not the one who dies, I'll admit that you wrote a beautiful ending for yourself as a yakuza.

I don't need it.

I'm fighting you for one reason. To cut my last ties with you, with the Kinsekikai, with Mitsukue and with Higashi.

Suit yourself. But how should I sing the song of your death, in the event that it happens? Who did I kill? An Oni?

An Oni.

An Oni who has lost her home forever.

Mifune says no more.

He pulls his long sword, which seems far too long for most men, but just right for him.

The blade is sharp as snow, but hidden in the night, as summer frost that should not be, that could fade away any moment.

I had a thought, Hoshiguma.

That pompousness that had filled his voice up to this point is completely gone.

When we were young, Tessai took us to watch the snow, here by this very riverside.

I remember.

He said, don't look down on yourself just because you're yakuza.

He said we're descendants of warriors. He said generations after generations of samurai since Shigekazu Onishoubu have given their lives for loyalty and righteousness, and we are their legacy.

He said that even without noble status, without power, without a liege to serve, even without the bloodline of warriors...

Loyalty and righteousness never die. The warrior's spirit never dies.

Jingi, ninkyou, honor in all its names.

The warrior's spirit lives on, even if it has fallen on hard times, even if it has become distorted, even if it has taken on many different names, even if no bonds of blood tie us.

He was spewing nonsense, wasn't he? It was all an act, wasn't it?

Mifune stares straight into Hoshiguma's eyes.

You don't know the answer?

There's only one thing that I know.

Someone you hated so much would never put on an act for you.

Sure enough.

You trusted him, and I trust you. I believe you when you say that Tessai didn't lie to me. I believe that we're the last descendants of warriors, here in Nan'in Anzai Mitsukueooyashiro.

As for the true blue-blooded warriors whose emblems are passed on from generation to generation...

I suppose they're all speculating in real estate right now.

Kinbee sneers.

Opposite him, the blue flames of rage burn brightly around Hoshiguma.

No longer does it burn for Kinbee, but bright it burns, almost burning through the brightly suffocating night of Mitsukue—

And then, in the blink of an eye, it is over.

The two stand with their backs towards each other, having swapped places in the exchange.

Hoshiguma returns her sword to its sheath.

Kinbee's figure drops lower and lower, until he falls to the ground, no longer able to stand.

You... you're not injured at all?

I have a slight cut on my face.

What about me?

I can feel myself bleeding, Hoshiguma, but I don't want to look.

Tell me. How much time do I have left?

I don't know.

I think there'll be someone here soon, after I leave. I think you'll live a pretty long time.

Why didn't you kill me?

You and I, we have nothing to do with each other anymore.

There will be other people to judge you for Uncle Tessai and Momoka.

Ha, haha...

After all these years, at the end of it all... you won.

No, I lost.

Completely.

You hate the way of this city so very much?

I just don't recognize it anymore.

It's no longer my home, that's all.

Sayounara. We won't meet again.

Hoshiguma turns and walks towards the ruins of Kajimachi.

Lying on the ground, Kinbee casts his eyes towards the other side of the river, as he feels the cold of his own blood leaving his body.

The noise and commotion look down coldly on the empty shores on this side, which will soon become much shinier and brighter.

The one-horned Oni walks past the ruins of old buildings, past the indifferent bustle of the entertainment district, past the foe who had crossed swords with her a moment ago, and into the glaring dark night.

A cool breeze blows from behind, bringing fresh liberation, and sounds that do not belong to the present.

Going to the summer fair with her father, and the unscrupulous yatai owner giving her a net made of the flimsiest paper for scooping fins.

That summer night after her father's passing, she licked the apple candy Tessai gave her that did not seem right for her age.

The throwing rings that seemed too juvenile for her, but which could never seem to hit their mark, as though they were imbued with some sort of Arts.

Going to the shooting stall with a 'Holy City of Laterano' sign that only had cheap stuff, after getting drunk with her Kinsekikai brothers...

She takes one step after another towards these scenes of Higashinese summer nights.

But they are ghosts of the past, brushing by her, fading into the distance like the one she has defeated...

And the fireworks.

Yes, the fireworks of Higashi's summer nights, which she may never have a chance to see again.

So, you didn't see any of the fireworks at all?

Basically.

What? You missed the entire fireworks show?

Yeah.

That's such a shame... well...