Sabito wasn’t bothered by being brushed off. He simply shrugged, turned around, and went back upstairs—only to find that Giyu was already awake. After folding his futon neatly, Giyu was sitting upright, studying Yoriichi, who remained motionless in ditation, his expression one of quiet curiosity.
As Sabito debated whether to disturb Yoriichi, the man opened his eyes and looked calmly in his direction.
“Is there sothing you need?”
“Ah, sorry. Did I disturb you, Yoriichi?”
“Not at all. It’s just that your gaze carried a bit of hesitation, so I was curious.” His tone remained gentle. “Is there sothing you wanted to ask?”
Caught off guard, Sabito felt oddly self-conscious. “Um, well... Hiru’s back. He’s downstairs drawing and already ordered breakfast. Would you like to join us?”
Yoriichi nodded slightly, reached for his haori, and stood up. “Let’s go.”
“Why ditate?” Giyu asked bluntly as he also rose to his feet, his blue eyes fixed on Yoriichi. “It’s useless, isn’t it?”
Sabito’s heart nearly stopped. Giyu, it’s way too early in the morning for you to start trouble!
“It’s simply a thod for refining one’s state of mind,” Yoriichi said with a serene smile, turning toward Giyu without the slightest hint of offense. “Though to most people, it does seem rather dull... Are you interested, Giyu?”
“Mm.” Giyu walked up beside him, looking up. “I want to learn.”
Yoriichi reached out and ruffled Giyu’s hair in a natural, practiced motion. “Alright. But let’s talk after breakfast.”
Giyu’s eyes narrowed slightly at the touch, and when Yoriichi withdrew his hand, he murmured softly, “...Thanks.”
Sabito exhaled in relief, shooting Yoriichi a grateful look and nodding his thanks.
Yoriichi said nothing in return—just offered a calm, reassuring smile.
...
Breakfast brought yet another surprise to Sabito’s perception of the two brothers. Yoriichi stood quietly behind Hiru, watching over him. When Hiru glanced up briefly but then returned to his sketching, Yoriichi only gestured for the others to eat without waiting.
“Just leave his al beside him,” he said.
By the ti they were done eating, Sabito noticed that Hiru’s portion had sohow been cleared away as well, even though the boy hadn’t moved an inch—aside from the steady motion of his hand as he continued to draw.
[These brothers... their relationship is both strangely harmonious and oddly distant.]
Sabito couldn’t help thinking so.
After breakfast, Yoriichi began explaining to Sabito and Giyu a few thods for ditation, as well as techniques for adapting sword swings to flow naturally in different terrains.
Giyu’s face remained impassive, but his eyes were sharp and focused, showing that he was listening intently. Sabito, however, grew more and more astonished. Much of what Yoriichi said was completely new to him—yet everything made perfect sense once he thought about it.
“Such profound insight...” Sabito couldn’t hide his amazent when Yoriichi finally finished speaking. “Yoriichi, you must be a true genius.”
“No, these are just personal observations I’ve made through my own training—nothing worth boasting about.” Yoriichi shook his head slightly. “But I’m glad you understood so quickly. I was a little worried I might not explain things well. The last ti I tried teaching, it was to Hiru, and he didn’t grasp it at all.”
“No, you explained it perfectly!” Sabito’s expression was full of admiration. “I feel like so many things that used to confuse suddenly make sense now!”
“Impressive,” Giyu agreed with a nod. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad it helped,” Yoriichi said with a gentle smile. He then looked toward the doorway. “Hiru’s coming.”
Monts after he spoke, the door slid open, and Hiru stepped inside, holding his sketchbook. A trace of curiosity lingered on his face.
“What were you all talking about?”
“Swordsmanship.”
At that, Hiru instantly lost interest and turned toward Sabito instead. “It’s already dark out. When are we leaving?”
Sabito glanced outside and laughed. “We were so caught up listening to Yoriichi talk about swordsmanship and ditation that we completely lost track of ti. Let’s eat and head over—it should be just in ti for the assessnt.”
“I can’t believe you actually listened through all that...”
“Why not? Yoriichi explains things really clearly.” Sabito stroked his chin, eyeing Hiru curiously. “I used to think you saying you lacked talent in swordsmanship was just an excuse. But it wasn’t, was it?”
“Of course not. I’ve never liked swordsmanship to begin with,” Hiru muttered. “I prefer using my brain.”
“Even if you dislike it, you should still train properly,” Yoriichi said as he stood up, shaking his head in mild disapproval. “You’ve been neglecting your practice too much.”
“With you around, I don’t have to fight anyway,” Hiru replied nonchalantly. “You can handle everything with one swing of your sword.”
Yoriichi sighed softly and said nothing more.
“Haha, you two really are an interesting pair,” Sabito said with a laugh. “By the way, I’m still curious about your painting from this morning. Can I see it?”
“Oh, sure.” Hiru handed over the sketchbook casually. “Go ahead.”
Sabito flipped it open and found every page filled with beautifully drawn landscapes. On the newest page was a painting of a mountain blanketed in blooming wisteria, and among the flowers, a man walked quietly through the grove.
The man’s features were soft and gentle. He wore a light-colored kimono, and his slender figure seed to turn slightly toward the viewer, smiling faintly. His entire presence exuded calm warmth and quiet acceptance.
“Hiru, your painting is incredible... but,” Sabito tilted his head, “is this the only one with a person in it?”
“Because until now, there hasn’t been anyone worthy of being in my paintings,” Hiru said matter-of-factly. “People would only ruin the beauty of nature.”
“Uh...” Sabito blinked, unsure how to respond.
“Hiru’s standards for his art are a little... strict,” Yoriichi said with a faint smile, reaching out to gently ruffle his brother’s hair. “So he sotis says strange things. My apologies.”
“Haha, I guess that’s just an artist’s passion for their craft,” Sabito replied, unconcerned. He flipped through the sketchbook again, admiring each scene. “I don’t know much about painting, but these landscapes are breathtaking. It actually makes want to go traveling now.”
“So of those places can’t be seen anymore,” Hiru said softly, his expression caught sowhere between nostalgia and regret. “They only exist in mory now.”
Yoriichi nodded faintly, a wistful smile on his lips. “Yes. So landscapes truly can’t be seen anymore.”
In that mont, Sabito felt it clearly—a faint, indescribable distance radiating from both brothers.
It was as though they had always been separate from the world itself—forever drifting on its edges, never truly stepping inside.
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