September 1921

The harvest moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Muichiro stood by the gate, preparing to leave once again. He seemed more distant than usual, his face unreadable in the moonlight. You watched him silently, your heart heavy with the growing distance As he tightened his grip on his sword, he spoke without looking back.

"You shouldn't keep hoping. I don't have anything left to give.'