Through all their history, the Sumeragi used tradition and ritual to consolidate their influence over the mighty. Their rituals were designed to impress and obscure and hardly ever changed once they'd founded the Onmyo-ryo near the end of Empress Suiko's reign. A hundred years later — its size had grown to a hundred officials, perhaps half of whom were truly gifted with onmyojutsu — they made sure it became a part of the Daijo-kan, the department of state, and not of the Jingo-kan, the department of worship, thus tightening their hold on power for centuries to come.
     The Sakurazuka on the other hand have always been more concerned about their independence. Their rituals weren't meant to impress. If it worked, it was recorded; if times changed, it was adapted. Tradition was change, meant to preserve the power. It required a Sakurazukamori to be at least twenty-two when claiming the position; the sakanagi of their brand of magic was too severe for an adolescent to handle. It required him or her to have offspring by then, because few survived longer than a decade and their gift must not be lost. The details had been left to the individual... 
     ...until the Mori seized control. They didn't respond well to change. Or independence. The Tree remembered well the outrage when fifteen-year-old Setsuka-chan had presented her Mori-appointed mate with the head of a thief killed the night before — wasting her first kill rather than waiting seven years to claim her position with it. 
     Cotton-pink flowers rustled in amusement. The Mori truly believed Sei-chan to be one of theirs, but the Tree had seen the face behind the thief's mask. It was no wonder that Sei-chan was so good at stealing hearts... 

Sagano-cho, Kyoto (West) 
Sumeragi Family Residence 
August 21, 1992 — afternoon 

The futon was thick and white, the room otherwise empty. The kamidana was gone... A small portable shrine stood at a safe distance from his head; the reverence light was burning in front of it. Silence. The fusuma were closed... 
     Subaru blinked. His grandmother was sitting next to him, waiting patiently like she had sat beside him when he... "I'm sorry you have to worry about me again," he whispered. 
     She frowned at his words. 
     "Subaru-san, do you even know what you did?" 

The house remained deadly silent after his grandmother left — presumably to inform the elders that he had woken up. A beam creaked in the ceiling; the flame of the reverence candle flickered. Dark shadows lined the shoji in regular intervals: guards standing outside, protecting... 
     ...him? Or the house from him? 
     Subaru shivered and slowly sat up. The dull, persistent pain of overworked muscles ran through his body. He pressed his palms against his eyes, recalling desperate cries, blood... 
     Blood; its sharp, metallic tang pervading sickening incense. 
     ...allowing him to breathe again. He slung his hands around himself, held himself tightly. What had happened? To him? To Akiko. 
     "Do you even know what you did?" 
     There had been so much blood... 
     He forced himself to stand, to move. He had to apologize. 
     Cautiously, he opened the fusuma and left his room, expecting the guards to stop him. They didn't. The one next to his door... Since when did Hamamatsu carry a gun? 
     The dark wood of the corridor seemed to absorb the light of the sun filtering through the shoji. The honey of the wood polish was mingled with the sharp tang of smoke, the remains of an extended fire purification. Just how long had he slept? Where was...? 
     "Hamamatsu-san," he asked quietly without looking up. "Where is Akiko-san?" 
     A brief pause, then: "I'll show you, Subaru-san." 
     He was led into one of the adjoining buildings. People were whispering. Nobody stopped him. Nobody met his eyes, but he felt them staring at his back, heard their hushed words, their hissed comments. 
     Stained. 
     Blooded. 
     He shivered. 
     "Are you cold, Subaru-san?" 
     The calm inquiry almost startled him. "No, thank you for your concern." It was an automatic reply without meaning. 
     The side wing was brightly lit, smelling of something more than wood-polish and smoke, a scent growing stronger with every step. Subaru's steps faltered when he recognized it. Antiseptics. And medicine. He pressed a hand to the cool wood of the wall and halted, looking at his feet. "Hamamatsu-san." He almost choked on the words. "Please tell me what happened." 
     "We hoped you could tell us, Subaru-san." 
     Hamamatsu indicated the door at the far end of the hallway. A protective ofuda was attached to it. Subaru recognized it as one of his grandmother's. Slowly, with dread, he crossed the last meters and knocked. 
     The voice on the other side was faint, muffled. "Yes?" 
     He slowly opened the door. This was the west building; a non-traditional house erected right after the war to accommodate relatives dislodged during the occupation. It was the newest addition to the estate, and also the least propitious. It wasn't right to— It— 
     Sunlight was streaming into the room, in spite of the veils that covered the plain rectangular window. White bandages on a hastily averted head seemed to glow before long black hair shielded her face from him. "Please..." she whispered, "don't come in—" 
     Somebody stepped between them. "Didn't you hurt her enough!?" Ayato snarled. "She's blind in her right eye! She'll—" 
     Subaru didn't understand the rest of the angry words spat at him as he was pushed back. Next to his head, Hamamatsu's hand crashed against the door, keeping Ayato from slamming it into Subaru's face. 
     "No, don't. I—" Subaru took an unsteady step back, then another, away from the violence and hate. He forced a deep, trembling breath. Why couldn't he stop shaking? Why— "I don't want to— I—" He bowed in reflex. "I'm sorry." 

He made it back to his room, managed to close the fusuma before he slowly sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Tears streamed over his face, forcing their path through his fingers, sticky, wet, like... like... He bit into his wrist to stifle the sobs. Akiko... 
     He had bloodied her, had hurt her, had— 
     "She's blind in her right eye!" Ayato had yelled at him, pushing him back. 
     "He's blind in his right eye." Hokuto had whispered, holding his hand. 
     ...Seishiro. 
     He tasted blood on his tongue. He— 
     "Subaru-san!" His grandmother's voice. "Hamamatsu, quick!" Somebody gripped his arm, pulled his wrist away from his teeth. He turned his head to the side, avoided their eyes, their anger... He was the head of the clan. He wasn't supposed to cry. He watched the blood beading across his wrist, falling in bright crimson drops onto the tatami. Tears blurred his vision. 
     "Subaru-san, you're running a fever." His grandmother's hand lay cool on his forehead. "Hamamatsu, see to his injury."  
     Someone called for antiseptics and bandages; his sleeve was pushed back. 
     "You should have said something," his grandmother scolded him. He leaned against her touch, felt her dabbing at his cheek. "You are responsible for the clan. How can you continue your line if you aren't healthy?" 
     Antiseptic spray was applied to his wrist. A gauze pad was pressed over it and bandages... 
     Always bandages... 
     Tears welled up in his eyes again, spilling over his cheeks. Exhausted, unable to stop them, he leaned against his grandmother— 
     "Subaru-san. Get a hold on yourself. You are the head of the house. You can't—" 
     He curled up on himself. Silent. Nobody must know. 
     "Subaru-san, I will inform the elders that the council will have to be postponed until you have recovered." Another fleeting touch on his forehead. "Hamamatsu, you will stay with him. Keep the fusuma closed until he has calmed down." 
     "Yes, Sumeragi-dono." 
     The faint rustle of tatami followed by the faint squeak of rubber tires on wood, then his grandmother was gone. Subaru thought he felt Hamamatsu's disdainful look on his back and curled up even tighter. 

August 22, 1992 — morning 

He heard them before he actually reached the hall; a low, agitated murmur behind the fusuma shielding the great hall from the rest of the house. The bloodied tatami had been removed, the house purified with salt and fire. Even now, fire bowls burned left and right of the entrance, carefully watched by the omnipresent guards. The ancient wood and washi of the fusuma burned easily. 
     They reached up to open them for him, and Subaru's steps faltered. The conversation on the other side sounded angry and concerned. Subaru balled his fists hidden by the sleeves of his kimono. He was at fault. He hadn't fulfilled his duty. 
     "Subaru-san, the elders are waiting for you." Hamamatsu was his shadow again. "Please don't keep them waiting—" Subaru almost heard the unspoken again, but Hamamatsu finished with, "they'll hold me responsible for it." 
     He nodded quietly, looking briefly over his shoulder at him. Another one was suffering for his failures and he hadn't noticed. He was the one expected to lead them, to shield them, and all he did was bring harm to them. He drew a quiet breath and entered the hall. 
     Shoulders squared, he bowed before the assembled elders, noticing their sudden quietness as they answered his bow in turn. 
     "Subaru-san," his grandmother indicated the sitting cushion in front of the assembly. "Please be seated." 
     He was tempted to throw a glance back, but he knew the fusuma had been closed behind him. Closed, and guarded. He sat down with a sense of dread, his hands resting loosely on his knees. The elders had no reason to think kindly of him any longer. He had failed the clan, had failed in filial piety... 
     ...in the gravest way possible. They expected a reason for it, an explanation, and he had none. 
     They would expect him to make amends, and he didn't know how. 
     Nothing could give Akiko back her eye. Nothing. And— 
     "Subaru-san, please begin by telling us what happened." 
     He folded his hands tightly around his knees to stop the tremor in his fingers. Expectant eyes stared at him. Somebody's tongue clucked impatiently. He bowed his head in shame. 
     "Now, now." Tomoaki seldom spoke up among the elders. "Don't hesitate to admit it." At Subaru's startled glance, he smiled jovially. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of rough play — it can be very enjoyable — but the bride bed is hardly the place for it. A young woman has to be taught slowly or—" 
     "Tomoaki!" his grandmother cut in sharply. "Please excuse my interruption, but this is hardly the occasion for this kind of talk." 
     Subaru felt sick. They believed he'd done... it... on purpose? To Akiko? He didn't even remember her eyes, only the weight of her stare on his chest, the inability to breathe in the choking heat. He'd have done anything just to be able to breathe again. Anything... 
     He pressed his hands against his knees. He'd tried desperately to shield her from it, but the room had become so small, so tight and dark. He'd been alone with the thundering heartbeats and hissing breaths that brought no air to his lungs. He— 
     He'd kept the reverence light burning all last night. His grandmother saw it as a sign of his devout piety, but it was simple cowardice. The dark room had scared him; its warmth, its silence, the loneliness... 
     ...uncontrollable madness raging through him until it burned out from exhaustion... 

"I do not know what happened." He met their eyes one after the other and dug his fingernails through the cloth of his kimono into his skin, and continued, "Akiko-san offered the sake and... I don't think I drank from it. I think I didn't even touch the cup. It was so hot and dark... I couldn't breathe and..." He shook his head, fighting against the panic rising in him. "Then there was the blood. And grandmother." 
     An uncomfortable silence lasted in the hall. 
     "Possession?" Elder Makoto asked after a while. 
     "That was my first assumption as well," his grandmother confirmed. "But my tests showed no external influence." 
     "Did you test the girl as well?" Makoto inquired. 
     "Yes, she's pure. And aside from the injury untouched." 
     "The Mikage will demand an explanation and compensation." Makoto's unreadable gaze rested on him. "For the one as well as the other." 

early afternoon 

The air was filled with the humming of countless insects and the irregular splashing of water trickling over the edge of the rocks into the meditation pond. It was hot and humid. He'd come here right after his meeting with the elders had ended. The reflection of the early afternoon sun on the water hurt his eyes. Amaterasu's brilliant manifestation burned on his head, on the bared skin of his shoulders. The waterfall was a mere trickle in the current drought; without its spray the heat of Amaterasu's anger was barely bearable. 
     A year ago, in this very spot — in harae — he had wished, had vowed to kill, to commit the very atrocity for which Amaterasu had turned her face from her brother forever; Tsukiyomi, who was born from Izanagi’s right eye after Amaterasu had sprung from the left. The surface of the pond rippled with the trembling of his hands. He had brought it about. He had blinded Akiko's right eye like Seishiro's had been blinded because of him. 
     Seishiro, whom he had vowed to kill, had wished to kill... 
     He closed his eyes against Amaterasu's angry glare. They were paying compensation to the Mikage, to ensure their silence about the affair. Akiko would stay within the Sumeragi clan, within the house for the time being, together with her brother. The elders had objected to Ayato's presence, but Subaru didn't want to force her to stay under his roof without somebody whom she trusted, even if that person's hatred for him was almost palpable within the wards. 
     Again and again he tried to remember what happened... 
     ...Akiko offering sake, looking at him with dark, concerned eyes... 
     ...dark brown eyes that, in his mind's eye, turned to amber... 
     ...glowing gold tugging at him, calling him... 
     ...his head throbbed... 
     ...Subaru-kun... 

"Subaru-san?" 
     It was dark and hot, sweltering even. He was covered in sweat just from breathing and he couldn't see anything. Somebody moved beside him. He startled, tried to see, to warn... Subaru coughed and pain exploded in his head, leaving him light-headed and sick. He— 
     Cold water was sprinkled onto his scorched skin. 
     "You must abstain from harae over midday," Omi Tono said in a very low voice, placing another cold cloth on Subaru's throbbing forehead. "The month of the gods is too hot for that." 
     Subaru coughed. "I accept her punishment willingly. I deserve it." 
     "Yet you are needed." Omi checked his pulse and clucked his tongue. "Amaterasu wouldn't want you to die for it." More water was splashed onto Subaru's chest and poured over his wrists. "Keep still. You have to cool down." 
     Instead Subaru tried to sit up. "No, grandmother—" 
     "Don't worry, I won't tell her." Omi, putting a flat hand on his chest, held him down effortlessly. "Now lie still, or she will learn when you don't return in time. Heat exhaustion isn't harmless, and a heat stroke may well kill you." 
     "Where am I?" Subaru whispered. A shallow bowl was held against his mouth. Warm water touched his lips. He found himself drinking greedily. 
     "In the shade." Omi told him. "I'd have preferred to bring you inside, but that was too far for me to carry you." Omi took the cloth from his head to soak it in fresh water and Subaru closed his eyes in pain against the sudden brightness. He was grateful when its cool weight blocked out the blinding light again. 
     He swallowed painfully. He shouldn't be grateful. The light was Amaterasu's gift. He— 
     Had he forsaken his family's kami entirely? 
     "Omi-san," he finally croaked in defiance of his throbbing head. "Why?" 
     "What why?" Omi, wringing another cloth, stilled for a moment. "What do you mean?" 
     "Why are you...?" 
     "I saw you collapse. Sometimes I go down to the Oi to fish. I can almost pretend to be home in Okutama, with my wife coming down to the lake to complain about me 'bathing the worms again'." He smiled wistfully. "I never thought I'd ever miss that." 
     Subaru coughed. "...caring?" 
     "You are the head of the clan." Omi answered. "Of course you are important to us." 
     Subaru swallowed dry, fought the coughing. "I shamed the clan, I— The elders—" His voice failed. 
     "The elders are wise people," Omi said dryly. "And wise people can be extraordinarily foolish." He offered the refilled bowl again. "Please, have more water. You have to replace the fluids you lost in the heat." 
     It took time before Subaru was able to sit up, propped against the trunk, and Omi wouldn't let him walk back through the sun just then. The air under the old tree was filled with the scents of wet earth and wood, strong and calming. Waiting for Amaterasu's manifestation to set, Subaru closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Dried pine needles covered the ground. Somewhere, an early cicada chirped. "Take better care of yourself." Omi had begged him earlier. As if there was a choice. A fox barked angrily on the other side of the river. 

When fireflies began to dance over the meditation pond, Subaru finally staggered to his feet. It wasn't until his light-headedness forced him to accept Omi's support for the walk back that he realized how bad his condition really was. 
     That, and the pain of the shikifuku touching his burned skin, when he went to observe the evening rituals an hour later. 

Subaru set the oshiki tablet with the ritual food offerings onto the sanbo and bowed deeply in front of Amaterasu's tablet, catching himself in the last possible moment when he lost his balance. Silently begging for Amaterasu's forgiveness, he hoped desperately none of the people in the hall behind him had noticed. He caught a concerned glance from Omi, sitting a few rows away from where his and the elders' sitting cushions were laid out. As always, the house was gathered at the evening meal. Omi was part of it, too powerful to be considered a lesser relative, but not a bearer of the name, either. Subaru bowed before the elders and took his seat next to his grandmother. He was served first, then his grandmother and the elders... 
     Rank. Tradition. It wasn't about who was the most hungry, the most deserving. There was blood on his hands, and they still looked to him to eat first. Subaru nearly choked at the tiny morsel he brought to his mouth to allow them to start their meal. 
     Akiko and her brother weren't there. "She hasn't earned herself a place in the clan," elder Shihoko had stated in council. Subaru had insisted that Akiko shouldn't be held accountable for his crime. He would provide for her, no matter what. She wouldn't have to worry about being at anyone's mercy. He only wished he could take the pain from her as well. It was probably better that she ate with her brother in her room; it would be inhumane to ask her to take her meal with the one who had destroyed her hopes. 
     "Subaru-san." He nearly dropped his chopsticks at his grandmother's quiet address. "I was concerned when you missed the afternoon offering." 
     "I am sorry. I was in harae," Subaru bowed his head. "I have much to atone for. I will consider an Oo-harae"
     His grandmother nodded approvingly. 
     Subaru couldn't bring himself to eat. 

He didn't see Akiko often while preparing for the Oo-harae. Most of the time she stayed in her room in the west wing. He had arranged for adjacent rooms to be cleared for her and her brother, and he knew she'd set up a small shrine, worshiping Inari. 
     He had been told her injuries were healing well, though she would retain scars and there was no hope that her right eye would recover. He prayed for her health, her recovery, wishing her well with all his might. He didn't know if it worked. The few times Akiko left the west wing for her necessary role in the purification rituals, she came veiled. A quiet, ghostly shadow in white. She was no longer a child and she couldn't be a wife; tradition had no colors for her and so she had to wear the white of the bride — or the dead. Subaru's fault. His alone. 
     Her brother openly detested him. Subaru couldn't blame him for it, though he quietly strengthened the spiritual wards. He didn't want Ayato's anger to take shape and haunt his family. He'd have to hurt Ayato if he had to exorcise such a manifestation. 
     The Nakatomi clan were contacted for their permission to recite the extended norito in the ceremony, and one of their senior priests took residence within the house, making sure the necessary preparations were observed properly. Subaru knew the surveillance sat ill with his grandmother, as well as the fact that the Nakatomi had to learn of the incident at all. 
     The necessary private interrogation by Nakatomi himself had been one of the most shameful experiences in his life, though he was glad that they wouldn't have to bother the emperor with the matter — something the Nakatomi could have asked for, had they deemed the Sumeragi's sincerity about the purification insufficient. 

September 30, 1992 

For the third time, Subaru bent his head, clapped his hands, and let the cold water of the ritual bath gush over his bare back. It was four in the morning; the sun hadn't climbed over the eastern mountains yet, but the sky already showed the deepest blue indicating that Amaterasu's arrival wasn't far away. 
     Subaru dabbed the last water from his skin and dressed in a plain shikifuku. Narrow bands of braided rice straw went around his wrists and neck, followed by small bells not allowed to ring until the impurity was banned. He moved very calmly as he prepared to use the purified straw and dagger Nakatomi had sent him. 
     Nakatomi. It was a sign of respect and honor that Nakatomi Michio, the head of the Nakatomi clan himself, was going to direct the ceremony. An imposing man with a solid stature and an aura of power that went beyond the physical. 
     Subaru collected his hair in a tight ponytail and tied it with the straw at the back of his head. He whispered a fervent prayer, clapped his hands thrice, and reached for the blade... 
     The ceremony was to begin when the first beam of Amaterasu crossed the horizon. 

The shock rippled visibly through the rows of the assembled clan at the sight of Subaru's short-cropped hair. The altar had been set up to the east: towards sunrise. Sandal and Jinko and other sacred woods were burning in large bowls left and right of the altar and a bed of smoldering incense was arranged in front of it. 
     Subaru offered his cut hair to the flames at the first sunbeam. Ofuda fluttered in the rising morning wind that drove the purifying smoke through the rows of the assembly. Someone coughed. Altar bells jingled faintly. The rustle of the purification wand woven over his head filled his ears. Then Nakatomi's full voice rang out, chanting the haraekotoba; framed by the rising sun, he listed Subaru's sins for all to hear. 
     The sunburn on Subaru's shoulders and back was long healed, but he felt the stares of the elders burn into his back. They had known of the kunitsu-tsumi he'd committed by injuring his bride, but not of the amatsu-tsumi he'd committed in harae. His vow to kill another had been a crime against the divine and it had taken him more than a year to realize it. Now, they were calling upon the gods to help clean what had been gravely impure for so long. His sins and failures were listed, spelled out to be washed away into the sea, but Subaru knew from experience that they wouldn't be washed away from the ears of the elders, or anyone elses. The gods might forgive, but the elders never forgot. 

Subaru carefully tugged the black kimono back into place, straightening the five white pentacle kamon on chest, shoulders and back, before tying the obi with slightly unsteady fingers and proceeding with the hakama. 
     Neither the summons nor the request for formal attire had come unexpectedly. After the successful completion of Oo-harae, Nakatomi Michio had automatically achieved the status of an honored guest at the evening meal. 
     He knotted the second tie of the hakama, forming the required cross of bow-ties at the first attempt, and sighed at the scratch on the wood outside and Hamamatsu's calm voice, telling him it was time. 

Ayato, also in his finest, sporting the stylized fox kamon of the Mikage, left the main hall the moment Subaru stepped into the corridor. His expression darkened, but he stepped obediently aside. "On your way to the next victim?" he hissed under his breath as they passed. 
     Subaru stopped, startled. "What—?" But Ayato had already turned his back on him and the fusuma were opened, revealing the assembly of his family and their guests. He couldn't possibly call after Ayato. 
     He crossed the room quietly and bowed respectfully before Nakatomi, occupying the seat of honor next to the elders. 
     Nakatomi bowed in return, indicating the young woman at his side. "Sumeragi-san, may I introduce my daughter Kizu to you?" 
     "I'm honored, Nakatomi-san." Subaru repeated the greeting bow to the silent young woman, whose kimono also held the Nakatomi kamon as an intricate embroidery on her chest, and the elders before claiming his seat. He poured the tea for their guest and received his cup from Nakatomi in return. 
     Kizu-san kept her eyes downcast most of the time and delicately bowed her thanks when she received her tea, her face almost hidden behind her hair which was not black but the color of burnt umber, though she had tried to darken its tint by pinning two small, pale-green paper-fans into it. Pale-green... 
     ...like the icecream had been. He almost had its taste on his tongue. It had been a hard day and he hadn't felt up to bantering with Seishiro and Hokuto over the perfect icecream taste, and its meaning. He hadn't paid attention when Seishiro finally placed the orders, expecting something overly sweet and creamy that stuck endlessly to his tongue. Instead he'd got a simple glass bowl with two pale green scoops and strangely elongated green nut splinters strewn over it. Hokuto had ridiculed the plainness of the dish, but after the first tentative spoonful, he'd just stopped listening — to their banter, the noise, everything. The taste had reminded him of wet wood and fresh leaves and almonds. It had been strangely silent at the table when he finally put the spoon back down, with Hokuto staring at him and Seishiro— 
     "Sumeragi-sama?" a faint voice inquired next to him. He felt his face warming at his lapse. 
     "I'm sorry, I—" He stopped. "Do you like pistachio icecream, Kizu-san?" 
     "I— I like green tea ice," she stuttered, surprised. "And chocolate." 
     "My sister liked chocolate, too," Subaru said quietly with a pang of loss, "and strawberry. She tried to get me to like it, too, but I found it too sweet."  
     "I'm sorry, I didn't want to stir painful memories." She bowed an apology. "What does pistachio taste like? I've never heard of it." 
     "A bit like almonds," he struggled to explain, "but fresher, more... leafy. It's not bitter, but not sweet either. You ought to taste it sometime." 
     "I will for sure." She tilted her head, finally looking at him. "Do you think it goes well with green tea?" 
     "Probably. I'm not sure, I—" 
     She gave him a true smile and he stopped, uneasy, suddenly keenly aware of the people around them — her father in front of him, his grandmother on his right —, the strange hush in the room full of expectant people. What if he hurt her like Akiko? What— 
     "On the way to your next victim?" 
     He shuddered. He didn't want to hurt anyone ever... again. He... 
     "Get a hold on yourself. You are the head of the house." 
     The room was stuffy and hot. Too hot. The flickering reverence lights made red shadows dance on his hands. Blood-red shadows... 
     Kizu-san smiled at him, laughed faintly, delighted about something he had failed to hear. 
     Blood on his hands... 
     Blind in his right eye... 
     If only it were him. 
     Only him. 
     The room was blazing with the reverence lights... 

Subaru didn't notice he'd fled the hall until he pushed the fusuma to his room shut behind him, and sat down with his back against it, breathing heavily, fighting for the panic to ease. 
     Brown hair, black hair. 
     Dark eyes, amber eyes... 
     He stared at his hands, clawed into the black-and-grey striped hakama; flattened them and pressed his palms into the rough cloth. Touch. Contact. A craving he couldn't possibly admit. Just to be touched, to be held, not to be responsible for it all, even if it were only for a brief instance, even if it were just an illusion... 
     He shivered. 
     He didn't want to remember it. His sister was gone, his grandmother wouldn't, and Seishiro... Sei... 
     "You have been under my spell since you and I met again."  
     The sob came unexpected. He was unable to keep the tears from pouring over his cheeks. After all this time, all his efforts, Seishiro's calm words were still true. 
     Someone scratched at the fusuma behind him. 
     "Subaru-san! Are you in there? Are you alright?" Hamamatsu, forgetting about protocol, rattled the wooden frame. 
     Subaru balled his fists. He couldn't continue like this. He— 
     "I am fine, Hamamatsu-san," he said, gathering himself up. "Please deliver my sincerest apologies about my inappropriate departure to our honored guests and the elders." He wiped angrily at his wet cheeks. "Inform them that I have an announcement to make." 
     "Subaru-san—" 
     "Go now. I will be there in fifteen minutes." 

The main hall was still full of people when he returned, wearing black pants and a sweater, and ordered the electric lamps to be turned on. Their harsh light, despite being shielded by artfully painted silk screens, outshone by far the traditional lamps filled with blessed oil. 
     He bowed to the offended Nakatomi and apologized for his rudeness towards him and his honored daughter. "But there is indeed a restless spirit who causes all the misfortune that has befallen the clan. And me." A collective, sharp intake of breath followed his explanation. Mine, he added in his thoughts. He could lose his position for what he was about to say next. Not that it would matter. 
     "I will return to Tokyo on the first Shinkansen tomorrow morning." He looked at no one in particular when he continued. "It is of no use for me to stay here while that... business there is still unfinished. I have to lay that spirit to rest before I can take on any other responsibilities. Thank you and please forgive me for failing you." He bowed deeply towards their guests, towards the elders, turned on his heel and left. 
     He had almost reached the fusuma when voices erupted in the stunned silence behind him. 
     "Subaru-san!" his grandmother called out, but he had already crossed into the corridor. He knew she wouldn't follow him. As the former head of the clan, she was responsible for the guests once he left the hall and the Nakatomi were of their rank. He shook his head when Hamamatsu moved to follow him. He didn't want company. He had to pack his bag and— 
     "Subaru-san, please—" 
     Surprised, Subaru stopped and looked back towards the entrance to the big hall and saw Omi Tono hastening toward him. "Wait a moment. I know you don't want assistance," Omi said quietly. "And my skills aren't up to par to even offer it, but if you ever need a safe place to rest for a night or two..." He handed him a plain black-and-white business card. "Miki and I would be honored." 

Kyoto Station, Kyoto 
October 1, 1992 — 06:01 

Subaru got out of the car, shouldered his bag and looked ahead at the station. October — Kaminazuki in the old calendar, the month without gods — was a fitting month for what he was about to do. 
     "I'll accompany you to Tokyo," Hamamatsu said behind him. "You'll—" 
     "No." Subaru denied quietly. "I have to go on my own. You can't protect me." He walked up the stairs to the Shinkansen platform with brisk strides. You can't protect me from myself. 

to be continued in
Family Matters 11 - Spring Squall

Notes:
Oo-harae (large purification ceremony) is described in the Yengishiki written in 927 AC. However, I don't have any information about ceremonial details. Any errors are entirely my fault. No offense is intended.
"You have been under my spell since you and I met again." Tokyo Babylon vol. 7 p. 5