The battle ended and the dead began to rise.

Each of the slain was reanimated in the order in which they’d died. It was always a strange process to watch. Kato caught up with his men where they’d gathered closes to the city walls.

“Oi, Kato!” One of the men called to him and waved him over. “Thanks for inviting us on this one. Really worked out well. I hope you get something nice out of it.”

Kato laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, me too. How’d your squad make out, Ryota?”

“Just one KIA. But Hayashi’s always being reckless like that.” Ryota’s squad were all former SDF back in life, so they had a lot of actual combat experience. Hayashi was the only one who ever got killed in these skirmishes. Then again, he got killed every time—almost as if he did it on purpose.

“Want me to send him your way when he revives?”

“You’re not heading back to the city?” asked Ryota. “We’ve got a whole storeroom full of sake waiting for us to celebrate.”

“Maybe later,” said Kato. “Going to take some time to myself.”

“Understood.” Ryota clapped Kato on the shoulder. “You earned it. We’ll be at Maru-san’s when you’re ready.”

Kato nodded to the rest and headed off on his own.

They’d fought the battle on a huge, open field surrounded on all sides by a forest. From one end you could barely make out the other side. It’d been one of the bigger fights he’d been involved in, and the biggest he’d organized for his daimyo. Along the nearest edge of the field was a cherry blossom tree in full bloom with a large boulder sitting in front of it.

Kato stepped around the boulder until he was hidden from view and sat down cross-legged, pulling his sheathed sword out and resting it on the ground next to him. He reached into a small hole he’d dug under the boulder earlier and pulled out a flask and two ceramic cups. He knew he should probably wait, but his thirst got the better of him.

He poured his cup full of the soft rice wine and said a quiet thanks. A cherry blossom petal drifted down into his cup and rested on the transparent surface. Kato’s cheek pulled back in a weak half-grin. Was it good luck if the petal, the sake, and the cup were all digital? Was it good luck if the tree never stopped blooming?

He saved the question for another day and tossed the drink back as he heard footsteps in the grass. An imposing man with a full beard stepped around the side holding a helmet that had been cut in two.

“Good work today,” said Kato.

“You too,” replied the man.

Kato poured their drinks as the man sat down and offered him a cup. “Head shot this time, hunh, Ako?”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“Sorry. Akeshi.”

“Thank you,” said Ako-Akeshi.

“Of course, Akeshi-san.”

“Don’t be rude, dear.” Akeshi sighed. “Yeah it was a blow to the head. I’m going to need to buy a new helmet. It’s a shame—I really liked this one.”

“How long did you last?” asked Kato, taking a long sip.

“Not long. Didn’t get a single useful strike in myself.” Akeshi sighed and took a drink.

“You’ll get better with practice, dear,” said Kato reassuringly.

“So, no kiss for your wife?” The beard grinned mischievously.

Stolen story; please report.

“This is a little different from my perspective, you see,” said Kato, nervously.

Akeshi laughed and scratched at his face. “Is it the beard?”

“It doesn’t help, no.” Kato sucked his teeth. “It’d be helpful if I could just, you know…”

A sigh. “Fine, fine. Call me Ako. I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

“I know. I’m not trying to…” Kato trailed off.

“It’s exciting being a man, you know,” said Ako. “Totally different in a lot of ways.”

“Not least of all being a samurai,” Kato said, laughing. “I promise the differences aren’t quite as big as a salaryman.”

Ako leaned back on his elbows and smiled at the sky. “Well, I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

Kato laguhed and tossed back the rest of his cup before pouring another. “Well, you’ve always been pretty traditional. What’s more traditional than actually living the old ways?”

They were silent for a moment, enjoying the breeze, the clouds, the birds. They filled their lungs with the sweet, clear twilight air. “Thank you,” said Ako. “I don’t think I really say it enough, but thank you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes I do,” she cut him off. “You came here for me. I know it wasn’t your first choice. And you came before me. You waited for me. Again.”

“I’ll always wait for you.” Kato stretched his leg out and kicked Ako playfully in the shin. “You didn’t have to go joining the opposing faction, though.”

Ako shrugged and laughed. “I like being a contrarian.”

“I know.”

“It’s more fun that way.” She focused her eyes on Kato, giving him a look of sincerity. “I just needed this time to explore things on my own. To explore myself. It’s just for our T-1. For our T-2, when we’re out of our debts, we’ll be together again.”

Kato reached out and held Ako’s hand. It was strange to him, holding a man’s hand in such an affectionate way, but since it was Ako he could learn to be okay with it. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. It’s going to be a lot of working for the daimyo to get out from under the debt, so you’ll have time to enjoy.”

“A few promotions here and there should help you speed it up,” she offered. They fell into silence again, sipping their sake. “I understand you a lot more now. In ways I don’t think I ever could have without this experience.”

“Is that right?”

“It deepens my feelings for you, to know you this way.”

Kato hummed his understanding. He and his wife had always been a strange pair. She was old school. Born in wealth, she’d been raised with an attachment to the old ways that she’d never been able to shake. Even after she’d lost most of her privileges within the family for marrying Kato, she never lost her connection to those ancient aesthetics.

Kato, on the other hand, had spent as much time outside of Japan as he could in his youth. Before his thirtieth birthday he’d gone diving in every unrestricted sea, climbing on every accessible mountain. He’d mastered English, French, and Arabic. He had a bar and a couch where he’d be welcome on every continent. He’d returned to the country of his birth to begin a new life with his one true love, Ako. He’d taken to the salaryman life with some discomfort, especially entering the suit-and-tie workforce so late in life, but managed it alright. He trained in kendo five nights a week both as a way to expel his boundless energy and as a way to get in touch with the history and culture that his wife found so fascinating.

It had been, overall, a very fulfilling life. He was looking forward to an even more fulfilling death.

But, for now, he was stuck as a pencil pusher for some damned bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur. And his wife was off fighting for a manufactured enemy. Ah well, it was just one more lifetime. There’s be time for yet another after. And another. And another. And so on.

He poured Ako another cup. “Here, let’s finish this up. I need to get back to headquarters before the daimyo heads over to the victory party.”

Ako peered at him skeptically from under her bushy eyebrows. “Can’t you just give him the write-up tomorrow? It’s not like he’s going to look at it today.”

“You would think that.” Kato groaned and put his hands on his knees. “When are you free next?”

Ako stood as well, sliding her sword back into place at her side. “Not sure. Probably a week would be good. I’ll send a messenger.”

Kato stared at his wife. Beard and all. It was time to part ways again. He couldn’t bring himself to engage romantically with her. Well, physically at least. But he’d come to almost depend on these meetings. He’d missed Ako awfully during the few years between when he’d unwound the mortal coil for the immortal one and when Ako had done the same.

She’d always been his best friend—as far back as he could remember—and that aspect of his love for her had nothing to do with appearances. Just having her there—her personality—to talk with was enough.

Yet, as he looked at her he knew it wasn’t enough for her. It hurt something inside Ako that he couldn’t move past the superficial. She was hurting and Kato couldn’t bear that. He took her hands, rough as they were, and pulled her in for a hug. They’d embraced before, but it always had the feeling of something obligatory and shallow.

This time he held her tight. He felt her whiskers scratch his ear, but he ignored it and focused only on Ako breathing in his arms. “I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too.” Ako stepped back and, for a moment, Kato saw his wife in those warrior eyes.

She turned around and vanished beyond the boulder leaving Kato under the cherry blossom with an empty flask and two cups drying in the purpling evening.