Daisuke returned sometime in the dead of night, body smudged with ash and soot. He stepped quietly into the darkened room, lent to him by the loyal manager of the [i]Ponto-chō[/i] Geisha district. A wide-brimmed, straw hat was placed carefully by the doorway, joined by wooden sandals and the stained outer robe of his kimono. Dressed in nothing more than his silken under robe, ivory thread dirtied and blackened, he stepped slowly over to the screened off bed nearby.

Souma was awake, arm and leg wrapped in stained bandages, waiting for him.

[i]"Tell me, Daisuke."[/i]

[i]"Yes."[/i] No hesitation, Daisuke stepped forwards to kneel before the bed, head bowed. [i]"The compound... is gone. Raised to the ground."[/i]

...

[i]"Survivors?"[/i]

[i]"Takahiro Ai escaped with a small guard. She was unharmed, and said she would come by tomorrow... She is beyond glad you survived."[/i]

[i]... Father?"[/i]

[i]"Takahiro Raigo... did not survive."[/i]

...

... ...

[i]"Goemon? Did you find him?"[/i]

[i]"Goemon... did not survive."[/i]

Daisuke didn't move in the wake of Souma's silence, the loyal Fist remaining bowed as the night waned on, until concern finally bested patience. He rose his head, discerning gaze piercing the dimness to lay upon his wounded Boss, laying down with arms crossed over his eyes. His shoulders and chest shook in silence, teeth clenched so that no sound might escape, moonlight glimmering to betray the wetness running down from hidden eyes. 

[i]"Daisuke..."[/i]

He didn't lower his gaze, not now, but merely answered.

[i]"Yes, Boss?"

"We leave for America as soon as I am able..."

"Yes, Boss."

"If they haven't destroyed what we built there... we'll turn it against them..."

"Yes, Boss."

"We're going to find these men, Daisuke."

"Yes... Boss."

"And we will kill them... Every, last, one."[/i]

For the first time since he had seen an old comrade shot within the once-safe walls of the Takahiro compound, Daisuke found his lips curling in a wide smile.

[i]"Understood. Boss."[/i]

~-~

Ai visited the next day, and spoke privately with Souma for some time. Daisuke didn't listen in, didn't ask what was said. But he saw the look on Takahiro Ai's face as she left, heard Souma say she would remain in Japan with the survivors of the clan. She had her own task, own responsibilities, own life. It was here, in their homeland.

Souma's was elsewhere, always elsewhere.

A message was sent later than day, and the news that returned was welcome indeed. Souma's network in America was untouched, thriving, and now bent wholly to hunting down the ones who had sought to destroy his clan. He would join them before long, a boat paid off to transport him and Daisuke, quietly, to the states. They would leave in just a few weeks.

And then the hunt would begin in earnest.