Yui has departed from Konan with sweet sorrow, as Miaka’s arrival home in Kutou brings bitter relief. Seeing no alternative, Nakago and the Sei of Seiryuu make ready to join the race for Genbu’s Shinzahou.
Meanwhile, Hotohori and Chichiri are left behind in Konan to recover from their injuries, and Chichiri is striving to heal not only her own body, but a lifetime of blows to Hotohori’s heart.

Episode Thirty:

“I do have a favor to ask of you, when you go to Yui,” Hotohori said, sitting by Chichiri’s bed.

“What is it no da?” she asked, sitting up against her pillows. In the days since Yui’s departure, she’d regained her lively blush and was beginning to be up and about a little.

“I’m only asking this as a favor,” he said, “because it may violate your vows as a monk, and it is not within my authority even as an Emperor to ask that of you; but if you could, please try to keep from Yui who it was that attacked us.”

Chichiri blinked. “The assassins from Kutou, wasn’t it no da? Why shouldn’t she know that no da?”

Hotohori paused. It would be easier, just not to tell Chichiri. Then she would not be tempted, and Yui’s peace would not be at risk. But as one of the victims, he couldn’t deny her right to know. “Miaka did it herself. I’d turned my back to her...”

“Yui-chan’s friend no da!?”

“That’s why I’m asking you not to tell her. Yui still misses Miaka’s friendship, even after everything that’s happened. To know that her friend had done such a thing... It would be a tremendous blow, when she has so much to deal with already...”

“I see what you mean, and I’ll do what I can no da. But, Hotohori-chan, there will be worse times and worse ways for her to find out no da.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’ve chosen to take that risk.”

“I can understand that no da.” Chichiri looked at him. “After all, you always have a choice no da.”

Hotohori sighed hotly. “Chichiri, please don’t start.”

“If I was asking you to do something you didn’t want to, then I’d stop, but I know you want to go with Yui-chan, and I really think you should no da. I keep after it because I think it’s important for you to at least realize you can no da.”

“If it was as simple as wanting to, of course I’d go,” he said, for what seemed like the thousandth time. “But what I have to consider is a bit more complex than that.”

“I don’t think it’s as complicated as you make it no da. I mean, if you decide to go, who could stop you no da? And what’s the worst that could happen no da?”

He took a deep breath. “My government could be toppled...”

“Well, you don’t seem to like this job much anyway no da.”

He gave her a look somehow cold and incredulous at once.

“Anyway, won’t everyone follow you anyway, once we summon Suzaku no da?”

“There could be no Konan left to follow me, with things as they are.”

“Now, I know you’re not that defeatist no da,” Chichiri chided. “You know it’d be long and hard for Kutou to conquer Konan, and we’d hear about it in plenty of time to come back and help if we needed to no da. The war is a better argument for you to go no da. If you were the Emperor of Kutou, and you wanted to ensure your victory, who would your target be no da?”

Hotohori turned away from her in hot silence, shaken by her point.

“Anou... I don’t want you to go out of duty, either no da. I know there’s good you can do either way, I just want you to decide for yourself no da,” Chichiri said. She watched him in silence for another several moments, and she had regained enough strength that one of her powers showed her the emotions radiating from him, although his face was so good at hiding them. Trapped, as if he felt her pushing and knew no way to give... Annoyed and defensive... Defensive...? “It’s okay no da,” she said. “I don’t want to beat you at this or anything no da.”

He turned back to her, finally. “What?”

“I just... I could see what you were feeling no da. Even though you aren’t arguing for your own sake, you don’t want to be proven wrong no da. I guess I can understand how, being the Emperor, you’re not used to being allowed to make mistakes, but there’s nothing weak or bad about just changing your mind about this, if it’s what you want and what you believe is right no da.”

After a moment, he rose from his chair. “I’ll think about it,” he said, and left the room without another word.

Chichiri sighed and leaned back against her pillows, looking up at the tapestry on the ceiling. She knew she’d pushed him too hard today, but she couldn’t stay here much longer, and to abandon Hotohori to the forces that were keeping him here, his “demon more powerful than Shikkonki”... The thought of it made her want to cry.

He wears a mask too, even more than me. Taiitsukun should have given him a mask, with that sad, serious face. Then everybody would realize that wasn’t the real Hotohori-chan—and maybe, a wry aside, Nuriko could busy herself trying to take away his frown rather than Chichiri’s smile.

But no, he seemed to have fooled Nuriko. He seemed to have fooled everyone—even and especially himself. Could it be that no one else saw it? Yui did. She had to, but everyone else... Were they just not paying attention? How else could they not see? Hotohori was always so serious, so grave, always so quick to deny himself what he wanted or go to pain and trouble for the sake of his country or the people around him. Yes, he was truly kind and generous by nature, but something seemed to have taught him that that wasn’t enough, that he had to give everything, all the time, that it would be wrong for him to be so selfish as to claim happiness for himself—and he believed that and practiced it. There was a sort of subtle, resigned sorrow that followed him around everywhere he went, so firmly attached that everyone seemed to think it was in his nature.

But it wasn’t; it couldn’t be. His mask was the opposite of Chichiri’s, and perhaps the change wasn’t so dramatic when he took it off, but she’d seen hints of something behind it. His happiness with Yui, a bit of genuine excitement and enjoyment during their sparring match... Sitting here with him in the last few days, she’d learned that he loved to read, especially poetry—which he told her in confidence that he tried his hand at writing, as well, but he kept it to himself. Even his famous vanity—he was a beautiful person in so many ways; was the one the mirror showed him the only one he thought he could claim?

If only she could get through to that Hotohori-behind-the-mask, but every step she found herself up against years of training and bitter experience that things “just aren’t done.” Who told him an Emperor shouldn’t write poetry, shouldn’t laugh? Who broke him like this, to build a dutiful Emperor out of the pieces? Who could be so cruel, in the name of “duty” and “dignity”?

Staying here, he would only be surrounded by those old lessons, that same gilded cage. With Yui and the others, he would have a chance to blossom on his own. She knew that he knew this, and that he wanted that chance. If only she could persuade him to let himself have it...

*

Tamahome walked up beside where Yui stood at the railing, watching green meadows slide by on the banks of the river. “What’cha thinkin’?”

“I’m thinking it’s nice that Tasuki’s done being seasick,” she said with a wry smile.

“Tell me about it. But really, you’ve been keeping to yourself since we left.” He rested an arm around her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

She flexed her back uncomfortably under his arm. “I think you know what’s wrong.”

“Why don’t you tell me, and then we’ll know for sure.”

Yui sighed. “I know you heard me tell Hotohori what Taiitsukun said.”

He nodded. “So maybe it’s better that he stayed behind...”

“What I mean is,” she said sharply, “that means you, too.”

He hesitantly withdrew his arm. “But, I mean, since it’s not like that between us...”

“It is like that for you. Isn’t it?”

Tamahome was taken aback at being asked so directly. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

With a deep breath, Yui set her face into a soft expression, but it came out looking tired, also. “Tamahome, I like you a lot, and I don’t want to have to do this to you, but Hotohori is the one I love, and you know that. If you ever get to where you can touch me like I was your friend or your sister, then that’s fine, but until then...”

“Yui...”

“I just don’t want to take any chances,” she said. “Summoning Suzaku is the most important thing right now. I know I can’t risk that even for Hotohori, and I can’t risk it for you, either.”

“But I can touch you as a friend or a brother?” he said softly, and reached for her shoulder.

“Liar,” she scolded, dodging and hurrying away across the deck.

“Yui!”

“Tsk tsk. Not very smooth,” Tasuki commented, coming up to him.

“Shut up, Fang-Boy!”

“Fang-Boy?” Tasuki questioned.

“Yeah, you know, with your...” Tamahome completed the thought by opening his mouth and pointing at his own teeth, referring to Tasuki’s characteristically sharp eyeteeth.

Tasuki huffed. “Fine, then, Ogre-Boy, with your—” he pointed forcefully at his own forehead, “—I guess I won’t get you for dinner, then. Leaves more for me, anyway.” He stomped back toward the galley.

“What the—? You spent the last two days hanging on the railing throwing up!” Tamahome protested, following.

“Exactly. Ain’t nothin’ left in there now; I could eat a horse!”

Tamahome just shrugged and followed Tasuki to the galley, where Yui and the other Seishi had already gathered, and dinner was laid out: fried rice and an appetizing-looking entree, glistening with ruby red sauce.

“Help yourselves,” Mitsukake invited, it having been his turn to cook.

The platters quickly made the rounds as the group set upon the meal with enthusiasm—which soon ground to a near-halt. Within three bites, everyone was chewing slowly, trying to figure out how to swallow that flavor behind lips twisted into a strange half-quizzical frown.

Chiriko apparently solved that puzzle first and spoke up. “Um, Mitsukake-san, what’s in this...?”

Mitsukake paused between spoonfuls—he was the one person still happily eating. “It’s my own recipe, one of my favorites.” He paused to collect the ingredient list in his mind. Fish... some bamboo shoots and snow peas... mostly bean sprouts... in sweet cherry sauce...”

Tasuki clapped a hand over his mouth and hit the door.

Chiriko shrank half-below the surface of the table so that he could look up forlornly at the entree towering over him. “I’m going to have to do research into how cooking like this is possible...” he whispered.

Yui happened to be sitting beside him, and leaned over. “I’ve seen this before... It’s called ‘Bachelor Cooking’...”

“He was a hermit for a year,” Nuriko remembered, from Chiriko’s other side. “With no one else to ground them, one person’s tastes can do strange and terrible things...”

*

Jumping into the middle of so many proper names and at least one apparent love triangle left Keisuke a bit lost, as if he were trying to pick up a comic book story or soap opera halfway through, but this time, too much depended on him learning the ropes of it.

‘As the Suzaku no Miko progressed along the river, her Sei Chichiri regained her health day by day, until she was able to enjoy the fresh air of the palace gardens, which strengthened her further. The Emperor clung to her company, knowing that she must soon depart.’ . . .

*

“I spoke with my ministers...” Hotohori started as they walked across the grass.

Oh, no... “And no da?”

“They were aghast at the thought, as you can well imagine...”

Chichiri nodded. At least the smile he said it with was a hopeful sign...

“They did have a point, however. The political situation, even aside from the direct threat of invasion, is unstable now. For me to leave the palace, much less go to another empire, would destabilize it further. Hokkan could take my arrival as an aggressive gesture.”

“Well, it’s not like you have it painted on your forehead, ‘Emperor of Konan’ no da. And I won’t tell anyone if you don’t no da,” she said with a wink.

“There’s just no telling how severe it would be...”

“If it’s that bad, I’ll bring you right back no da.”

“That might not repair all the damage. This is serious business. I hate to take the risk...”

They came to a bench with overhanging flowers, and Chichiri sat down. “None of the best things in life are safe no da,” she said, more serious. “And I hope my happy face doesn’t make it seem like I’m making light of this no da. Your decision is ‘serious business’ too no da. After all, it’s the first step of the rest of your life no da.”

“That’s true of any decision,” he pointed out, taking a seat beside her.

“But this one more than most, I think no da.”

“And why is that?”

“Because staying here would be what everyone expects you to do, what you’re supposed to do, and it looks to me like you always do what you’re supposed to no da. That’s your pattern, but I can tell it doesn’t make you happy no da. If you decide to go, for your own sake, then you change the pattern, and you can at least try to find something better no da.”

“The fate of Konan is at stake and you think I should be thinking of myself?” he asked. The reproachful tone was surprisingly slight, considering.

“The fate of Konan isn’t that simple no da. As I said before, there’s good you can do either way no da. Since that’s true, why not be good to yourself no da?”

A pause as Hotohori didn’t reply.

“I know you get lonely and sad here by yourself no da. I think you were comfortable with that sadness for a long time, the you that kept you from getting out of it no da. But I think being with Yui and everyone has finally shaken that up no da. I just don’t want you to get comfortable with it again no da.”

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t keep me from being happy when you all return.”

“That’s true, but in the meantime—”

“Chichiri,” he interrupted. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and that you’re concerned about me personally, but it’s easy for you to tell me what I should do, not actually being in my position, with an Emperor’s pressures and considerations. Remember what happened when you tried to ‘put yourself in my shoes’?”

“How do you walk in those shoes, anyway no da?”

“Not much at a time, and please don’t try to change the subject.”

“Sorry no da. Seriously, though, just because I don’t know politics doesn’t mean I don’t understand such a heavy responsibility no da. I’ve been closer than you think to where you are no da.”

“Oh?”

She turned and gazed at the flowering bush behind the bench and she spoke. “When I was young, it was said that my magic protected my village, and everyone was afraid that the village would be destroyed if I left—like you’re afraid Konan will be destroyed if you leave, and I’d say the actual danger was about the same, fairly small no da. That might seem minor compared to you, but my village was the whole world to me then no da.”

“I think I can understand that,” he said.

“Then you can also understand that it was a slow poison to me no da. Every day, year by year, I became more and more resigned to my fate even as my visions started and became more and more insistent no da. And every day I ignored my heart, I became a little sadder, and a little quieter, and a little... a little less alive no da.” She reached back and plucked one of the frilly red flowers. “It almost drove me mad; it surely would have if I hadn’t left no da. But now everything’s so much better; my village is safe, I know I can be there if they really need me, and I’m happy too no da.” She held the blossom near her face to enjoy its color and fragrance for a moment before resting her elbow on the back of the bench, with the flower held loosely near Hotohori.

“I know you have dreams, too, Hotohori-chan, that call you to something besides staying here and doing what everybody wants no da. Maybe they’re not as direct and insistent as mine, but in the end, they’re just as important no da.”

Hotohori was silent for a long moment. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Don’t you no da?”

He took the half-offered flower from her hand and smiled down at it. “Yes. But no one seems to think of me that way, to think that I would have those dreams, or if I did then I shouldn’t, that they were superfluous...”

“That’s a terrible thing to be told no da.”

“Maybe that’s what I was talking about, when I said I waited all my life for someone to see past the Emperor of Konan, when Yui came...”

“I think that’s just it no da. And you don’t have to go back to the way things were before no da.”

He looked up at her. “What about Yui, and the rule Taiitsukun gave us? I don’t want to cause her more trouble...”

Chichiri blinked at the change in depth. “You and Yui-chan are both very responsible people no da. I think you can handle it, and that missing you would cause her a lot more stress than having you where she can see you no da.”

He looked down at the flower again, holding it up to his face. His expression was very soft, very open. The defensive resistance was all gone now. She could half-feel him sorting out words, and she watched him hopefully.

“You were right about one thing from the start,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “I want to go with you.

“I wish I could.”

“You can no da!” Chichiri almost shouted.

Hotohori shook his head. “I’m sitting here asking myself if I can do what you say, and the answer is always no. It’s not something I can explain or argue, and I wish it weren’t so, but...”

“But that’s the worst answer of all no da!” she cried, rising to her feet. “Even if you didn’t come, that would be okay, but you can’t just let this... this thing control you no da!”

“I don’t want it to, and I wish I could give you a different answer...”

“You can no da! Just open your mouth and say it no da!”

He paused for a long moment, and slowly shook his head.

Chichiri half-collapsed back onto the bench, and they sat for a long moment, the silence broken only by rustling leaves and occasional notes of birdsong.

“I should go, and leave you to get ready,” Hotohori said, rising. “My court will be assembled again tomorrow, and I must prepare for that, as well...”

Chichiri lightly grabbed the trailing edge of his sleeve, her eyes scrunched into a pleading angle. “Please don’t go no da. I really don’t have hardly anything to pack, and it’s my last day here no da. I’ll even shut up about you coming with us; just please stay with me no da.”

He paused to gently disentangle himself from her, but wouldn’t turn and meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. I really must go for now. I’ll see you off in the morning,” he said, and slipped quietly back up the path to the palace door.

Chichiri watched him go, then leaned back against the bench and let the energy drain out of her. He was so close, so close he could almost reach out and touch what he wanted. He was so close to breaking that wall of fear. If only there was more time...

“Please, Suzaku,” Chichiri whispered, closing her eyes. Please, let him borrow my mask, just for the moment he needs to free his true self. Give him the strength he needs to break that wall.

*

Hotohori checked with his messengers to ensure that his ministers had all recieved their summonses, and looked over the busines that had piled up on his desk. Any real emergencies he would’ve been consulted about even as he was recovering, but there was still the usual business, military planning, and still all those edicts of Chichiri’s. It was enough to keep himself busy until late in the evening when he finally retired to bed. By that time the red flower had already begun to wilt where he had set it down, and he left it behind.

He lay awake for a long time in the opaque silence of the night. Tomorrow morning Chichiri would be leaving, and then it would be that opaque world all the time, that slow poison she had spoken of: hard-edged situations to deal with without seeing through to what lay within. When he was with Yui, he knew that within everything she did, there were so many layers leading inward to her heart, and he felt that as he talked to her, she let him see through more and more of them, come closer and closer... Talking even with Chichiri now, it felt like that, although he was sure that he was the one doing most of the letting in. But that was a good thing, too...

But tomorrow, they would all be gone, and it would be unyielding facts to deflect with his hands and his voice, like before. It had always been so hard... He lay awake for a long time, because he knew that to fall asleep would be inviting the next day to arrive, and it would all start again.

Hotohori rolled over with his eyes to the pillow, so that the grief could move freely across his face, hidden from the rest of the empty room.

*

“Are we there yet?” Miaka asked Nakago over the rumbling of the coach-wheels.

In the night darkness, he could only vagely see her sitting in the padded seat beside him. “No. We still have quite some way to go.”

“I wish they’d hurry.”

“Horses can only take so much hurrying,” he reminded her. “We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Are we going to beat Yui there?”

“We will if we can. And Miboshi has used a travelling spell and gone ahead to intercept them.”

Miaka sighed. “Well at least he’s not here.”

Nakago couldn’t have said it better, although he hadn’t wanted it to happen. Himself, he’d have seized the chance to honestly lag behind in this tactically-necessary show-race, but Miboshi had wanted to do it, and had known that Nakago couldn’t raise an unsuspicious objection, so there Miboshi was, laying in wait somewhere along the river. His power was great, but against all the remaining Sei of Suzaku—Hotohori doubtlessly back in Konan, and Chichiri perhaps dead, but still at least five—surely they could withstand him. And at least he wasn’t here.

Miaka sighed hotly and stared out the window, certainly not looking at the scenery in the black night, but only wanting an unsociable place to put her eyes. She’d spent most of the ride like this.

“If you only say the word, I can turn this coach around and take you home,” Nakago said. “We can handle things out here, so you needn’t be troubled, and to be honest, I’d feel better if you stayed in the palace. Konan has never advanced on our borders; I’m certain you’d be safe there.”

Miaka only shook her head.

The carriage rumbled on with silence between them.

“Miaka,” Nakago said at last, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

With a sigh, he sat back against the cushioned seat and turned his head toward the shifting puddle of stars that was the other window.

*

Keisuke frowned at the ink drawing accompanying the text. The book was writing itself—incredible as it was, he had to admit that. Something was really going on behind these pages, but... the girl in that drawing had Miaka’s hair, and when he read “Are we there yet?” it had echoed in his mind in Miaka’s voice, but surely this sour face and this sullen character couldn’t be his sister. It was only yesterday morning she’d begged with puppy eyes and then bounced up and down when her mother let her take some extra cinnamon rolls to school—for Yui and her other friends, Miaka had said, although everyone guessed she’s eat them herself long before she got to the school.

How could this be Miaka?

He flipped another page. ‘When morning came, the Emperor remained unrested, but nonetheless he rose so that he could bid farewell to the monk Chichiri.’ . . .

*

Although her condition had probably not changed since the day before, in the morning Chichiri at last seemed her usual energetic self, all dressed with her staff, beads, and swirl-patterned cape. For the first time in just as long, Hotohori was fully dressed in his court robes, but the effect hardly seemed the same.

“I will miss you,” he said, standing in her room as she tucked a few last minute items into her cape. “Please, give everyone my best wishes.”

“I think they already know they have those, but I’ll be sure to remind everyone no da,” Chichiri said. “I’ll keep in touch, too, like when we talked to Tamahome-chan in Kutou, no da. I’ll use the mirror over your dresser, if that’s okay no da.”

“Yes, of course.”

Chichiri smiled. “We shouldn’t let you get too lonely no da. And you know it’s never too late to change your mind.”

He paused. “When exactly do you plan to leave?”

“Well, I’m ready anytime, but I was going to wait until you went to your court no da.”

“Ah, thank you,” he said, but he also thought it shrewd of her to make him the one to decide, even this small thing. It would have been easy to wait and watch her go, but having to walk away from her, that was much more complicated... So many things yearned to be done and said first, he couldn’t even begin to identify them, but he didn’t want to sit down, to admit that he wanted to stay that long. So there was nothing to do but plunge into them as best he could... “I do want to thank you.”

“For what no da?” she asked almost innocently.

He took a moment to respond—she just wasn’t letting him by easily on anything, but he couldn’t be angry with her. “For considering me.”

“You’re welcome no da. I always try my best to think of my friends, and we are friends no da.”

Hotohori smiled. “I suppose that’s what I really meant to say,” he admitted. “Thank you for being a friend... However much audacity you bring to the task.”

Chichiri laughed at his jovial tone. “Well, you know that’s why I’m all weird like I am no da. Comes in useful on occasions like this no da.”

He laughed, too, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, and sobered at what he knew he ought to do, having nothing more to say.

“Goodbye, Chichiri,” he said. “Please, tell Yui I love her.”

“Now I know she already knows that,” Chichiri said, “but I’ll be sure to remind her no da.”

“Thank you.” He remained silent for a long moment. Another “goodbye” seemed so inadequate, but his mind was blank. “...Goodbye...”

Chichiri hugged him around the chest, but let go before he could collect himself to return the gesture. “You take care no da.”

“And you, too.” With one last “Goodbye,” he started numbly moving toward the door.

“Goodbye, Hotohori-chan,” Chichiri said finally as he exited the room.

The guards fell into step before and behind him, and he didn’t even bother to know where he was going, but only walked along with them to the audience chamber. As he entered, the ministers all rose from their seats and gave the prescribed kowtow before rising. “Your majesty!”

“Are our borders secure?” he asked, on his way across the room.

“Yes,” the minister of war replied. “Kutou hasn’t made any advances, and our forces on the border remain strong.”

“What business is there?”

“Your majesty, all these recent changes to the tax codes,” the minister of the treasury said. “By now they’ve gone out to the provinces; they have people quite upset!”

Having looked over Chichiri’s edicts, Hotohori imagined that use of the word “people” to be rather selective, but that thought fell aside as he arrived at his throne. He paused and only looked at it. He didn’t want to sit down. Like in Chichiri’s room; sitting down would be a kind of commitment.

In his silence the minister of the treasury was still ranting on. Somehow, he thought he must have forgotten what it was like, wading through this swamp of self-serving agendas, trying to find the Good of All within them somewhere, hidden among the rest. His ministers’ voices faded from his mind, giving way to Chichiri’s. “If it’s that bad, I’ll bring you right back.” “I know there’s good you can do either way, I just want you to decide for yourself.” “Since that’s true, why not be good to yourself?” Why not, indeed? He looked up at his advisors, who looked puzzled, muzzling annoyance.

Why would I ever choose this instead...? Why sort through this war of whims, this petty business when he could do what he knew was important, when he could be protecting Yui? He took a few slow steps back toward the doorway.

“Your majesty?”

He continued, his steps increasingly steady. “I’m leaving,” he said simply, in a commanding tone.

“What!?” “Preposterous!” “Your majesty, please—”

“Stay here!” he commanded. When he was out the door and had left them behind, he shed his ornate shoes and ran as best he could, leaving his guards to chase him. Chichiri might already be gone. She said she could bring him later, but it would still feel like missing the chance.

He arrived breathless at the door and threw it open, and there, like throwing open a window to a breath of fresh air, Chichiri sat calmly on the bed and smiled to see him, as if she’d been expecting him. “You waited for me...?” he asked.

“I knew you’d be back no da.”

He smiled and leaned on the doorway. “You saw it in one of your dreams...?”

She shook her head. “I saw it in your eyes no da.” She hopped off the bed. “I’ll help you pack no da,” she said, and followed him out of the room. “I told Yui-chan I’d be coming this morning; if we go in the next few hours we can surprise her without being late no da.”

“I hope she’ll be happily surprised,” Hotohori said.

“You know better than to wonder about that no da.”

*

To Be Continued...

*

PREVIEW

Chichiri and Hotohori rejoin Yui and the others, but the joys of reunion are short-lived as the Sei of Suzaku’s greatest enemy lies in wait. Trapped between Miboshi’s powers, stone, and water, the mission to Hokkan is thrown into chaos before they even reach its shores.

Next Time: