Daiko threw his jacket across the chair and breathed in the air from his third story terrace. The setting sun bristled as twilight neared, its light burning through the lines of potted trees flanking their parapet. The ‘Hitori’ Estate, as the registry called it, was a three-story shoebox once in a quiet suburb of Tosamir, long since swallowed by downtown.

  He sat with unmeasurable weight upon the grass they had installed on their roof top the first year he moved in. It was the only thing he successfully kept alive during his stint as a gardner. Peeling off his boots and socks, he rinsed his toes in the cold blades.

  Daiko heard the front door slam three floors below, and wished the grass was a pool so he could dive in and vanish beneath the surface.

  Mina strode heavy-footed onto the terrace and stood behind him. He needed little imagination to know how she looked—and who she looked like.

  “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

  “Have I? Seems you found me just fine.”

  She scoffed, then walked around to face him.

  “Are we—”

  “Going to spar? Of course. It is Monday, no?”

  “Talk to me about this, Dad. What’s going on?”

  “Indulge an old man, will you? Our sparring sessions are the only time we spend alone together these days.”

  “Is this about Erin? You said you didn’t mind.”

  “And I don’t, much. Granted, we still have our time as well.”

  Daiko motioned to the plot of grass. To one side, a shed stood unadorned save for a conjoining trellis overridden with magnolias—alive still because of Mina’s hand, not Daiko’s. He shuffled toward the shed doing his best impression of looking old and helpless.

  “You are insufferable,” Mina said.

  “Yes, but you’ve made it this far. Do you mind?” He pulled on the shed doors as though they weighed a ton.

  She sighed, but helped lift the lock and pull the double doors open. One might expect the great Mons Hitori to have a stash of tools and perhaps a secret workshop for his machinations, yet nothing so advanced lived here.

  As the door opened, warm yellow LEDs flickered on, reflecting off the ornate armor against the opposite wall. The kabuto was deep green, almost black with age, lined with cords of red and yellow. Beneath the helm sat a yellow oni mask, its mouth curved into a peaceful smile. The rest of the armor was affixed to the mannequin; a katana with a rusted red scabbard rested on a rack beneath.

  Mina and Daiko bowed. Their people capitulated before the Ascendency began—one of five nations to do so. From time to time, Daiko wondered if survival had been the right choice. It seemed his culture decayed a little bit more each day.

  They used the water basin near the entrance to clean their feet, then stepped onto the bamboo mats lining the ground. They outfitted themselves in coats and skirts silently though Daiko took a moment, as he always did, to notice the neatly folded uniforms Mina had outgrown. After Sora died, and before he became a part-time employee at the Westwood Garage, it was just the two of them. Those were easier days; when her homeschool lessons always turned into shop class. Together they healed, they grew, and here they were still.

  They took turns testing the shinai, bamboo swords about three feet long, strapped together with rope at six-inch intervals. Once settled, they grabbed their gloves and mesh helmets, and walked back into the yard.

  “Don’t think you can worm your way out of talking about this,” she said.

  “Our ancestors never tolerated distractions, little hammer. It is time you found your focus, or risk losing to me, again.”

  She picked up her helmet and Daiko thought he heard her whisper something along the lines of seeing him try.

  Fully armored, they took their usual starting places opposite one another, still as statues. They held their shinai in both hands, tips pointed up, one foot in front and one behind, as they measured the span of each other’s breaths.

  Mina broke the silence first.

  “So, are you going to go?”

  “What—”

  She struck as he opened his mouth. He barely blocked the first strike and took the second on the forearm. He shuffled back, and Mina let him retreat.

  “Who’s distractible now?” she said.

  “Weaponing distraction… I haven’t seen you use that tactic since you were half the size you are now.” Daiko said, thinking again of the old kendo uniforms still stacked on a shelf.

  She stepped carefully to his right, forcing him to adjust or retreat. He stepped forward instead, feinting left and striking right. Her guard came up quickly, but just barely. Mina shuffled back this time, holding the tip of her shinai out, her voice cool and unperturbed.

  “I’ve just remembered another one of your adages.”

  “Oh yeah? Which one?”

  “Forgive a man his mistakes, but not his broken promises.”

  They circled one another, each step becoming more and more like reflections.

  “Wise words…which promise did I break?”

  Mina shot forward again, bringing her shinai down, her strike fueled by ferocity. Had she been a few years older and stronger, he might not have slipped it.

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  “You know which one,” she said as she closed again.

  He hopped back and started for her exposed shoulder when his instincts pulled him back. In a blink, Mina turned and swung wildly. Reckless.

  She’d been expecting him near so she could block, but with him out of reach she swung all her strength at the air, and became off balance. He slid to the side and pushed her ankle with the tip of his shinai, forcing her to fold to the ground.

  Her breath rasped through the helmet. When he offered his hand, she took it, but the air now carried a chill.

  As they reset, and bowed, he decided to go on the offensive. He shuffled forward, half-raising his shinai with each stride. Mina retreated, matching his pace while keeping her shinai up defensively, just as he taught her. Well try this. He broke the pattern, leaning forward to strike. She parried, nearly catching his shin on the backswing before settling into a guarded stance.

  He pressed, attacking with three sharp overhead blows, forcing her to parry and give ground. Sliding to the side, he slipped underneath his guard—or so he thought. As he swung, she stepped toward him, turning the blow aside with ease. He was left staring into her mesh mask.

  The moment crystallized—in the dwindling light, a silent understanding passed between them. He was finished. Had he been a few years younger, he might have escaped.

  Mina twisted her hips like a hurricane, slamming her shinai into his belly. The thwap that followed wrenched a gasp from his gut and dropped him to one knee.

  Mina knelt and put her hand on his back, “are you hurt?”

  He growled and removed his helmet, “Me? Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.” but his voice sounded pinched.

  She removed her own helmet, face a mix of amusement and annoyance.

  “Oh, I know who I’m dealing with…that’s why I’m asking, old man.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  His legs trembled as he tried to stand.

  “Come on, that’s enough for today. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “Gah, it’s only been twenty minutes.” he hobbled up, “and you know what I think about ties.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t give me that look.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” but she hid a smile by putting her helmet back on.

  “Yeah? Well here’s another adage for you since you’re such a scholar: not till the day I’ve taught you everything I know, dear daughter, will you best me.”

  She sauntered back to the starting position, shinai leaned on her shoulder.

  “You? Stop teaching? I won’t hold my breath.”

  “Good girl. You’re learning.”

  It didn’t take long for night to settle. Soon they were cleaning their gear, starting a fire in the outdoor stove, and ordering take-out.

  Daiko sat on a cushion surrounding the outdoor stove. The kettle began to rattle above the flames, with a hooked stick he set it on the cooling tray and poured the steaming water into two small cups.

  “Dinner has arrived,” Mina said, crouching to her cushion and handing him a paper box. “Salad for you, and noodles for me.”

  “It better have double meat,” despite his tone, he took it gratefully but failed to hide the pain shooting through his wrist.

  “I’m fine,” he said, shooing her concern. “I’ve only got myself to thank for it. Shouldn’t have taught you so well.”

  They ate in near silence till night was full on, and Mina leaned back on the porch gazing at the sky. Daiko wondered if she saw the consuming aberration of space as he did, or simply missed the dazzling skylines of Jupiter from her youth…

  “Alright,” he said at last, “let’s talk.”

  “Okay,” she replied evenly,“talk.”

  “I already did, and you know by now what I’m thinking about.”

  She pursed her lips, “you told me you’d never go back—to Jupiter or the Empire—that was your promise.”

  Daiko considered questioning whether he actually used the word promise, but crumpled under her gaze. It was true enough

  “Things have changed, Mina. Gods knoew I’ve done two things well in this life: raising you and making war.” He considered the flames in the stove before continuing. “Now that one’s grown up, I might as well get back to the other.”

  “And you think it’ll be different this time? I haven’t forgotten the last time you did the R&D thing.”

  Daiko’s own memories were faint, but they were enough to recall the variety of fathers she received in such a short time: Doting father, harrowed widower, and now crotchety—albeit kinder than he was—SportMeck manager.

  He tossed the blade of grass he’d been weaving together into the fire.

  “I barely felt a thing after we won, you know.”

  “That’s not true. You said you were proud.”

  “Damn proud, and I am, but I don’t feel anything, Mina.” He almost stopped there, that part of him still desperate to show his daughter a strong front. “I was in it—right there with Cenn and Erin at the sticks till the moment we won. Then, not a damn thing.”

  City noise drifted in, reminding him of his outburst the night before.

  “I can’t believe everyone dragged themselves into this so fast,” he said.

  “I can. You’ve spent a decade building this crew. Now, after all that time, you don’t see that you’re the one holding it together? Of course they’d jump to follow you, even if it was just a rumor.”

  Her words echoed in his mind, they made sense, but Daiko couldn’t help thinking about dark shapes on a chalk on chalk board, cold creeping sleep of cryo, and loss—terrible loss.

  “You don’t really believe it, do you?” Mina’s tone was amused. “You say the crew would be fine, right? Ask anyone but Cenn, and they disagree. The garage would’ve closed, putting Mark, Snake, and Val out of a job. No one would hire Cenn with her track record, and no one was going to take Erin seriously as a pilot—he was a video game champion, remember?

  “But—”

  “You convinced Joyce that we were a good investment, and Arthur was perhaps weeks a way from stowing away on a CORP freighter bound for Jupiter whether they imprisoned him or died trying… And Roman? Name three SportMeck teams in the Primera with a Martian in the pit.”

  Daiko was momentarily stunned.

  “Did Arthur give you that trivia about Martians?"

  “Sure did.” They laughed softly, but the tension settled too soon afterward.

  “So you want me to stay? Turn the offer down?”

  Mina considered it, he saw her take a moment for his question to breathe, like he always taught her.

  “I don’t want you to go… but I know that won’t stop you. Which is why you’ll be taking me with.”

  “You too? MIna, you of all people must’ve thought the crew’s stunt last night was stupid.”

  “Of course I did, there isn’t much I think this crew does that isn’t reprehensible or crude in some way. But I also heard them talking it through after you stormed out. They have their reasons—most of them good.”

  Now seemed as good a time as any to raise the only solution he’d thought of all day.

  “They could follow you instead. If I leave, the team will need a new manager. They’ll be twice as busy on the pro circuit and could use someone more refined.”

  She gave him a confused glare.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to manage a SportMeck team.”

  “But you’ve been by my side all these years, watching me do it. If I left, you might keep everyone sane.”

  By the time his words left his mouth, even he didn’t believe it, and from her face, she never had either.

  “So it was Erin that kept you around, huh?”

  “You can be so thick sometimes. I stuck around all this time because you’re my dad, and you’re the only family I have left.”

  “It’s a good point, and exactly why I think you should stay. Christian says the moonscape’s getting worse. I doubt it even looks like the world we knew.”

  “Is Arcomeckanist a field rank? Do you plan to be on the front lines?”

  “No, but—”

  “Would your maintenance crew be expected to fight in real battles against the geos, even that crew wasn’t us?”

  “That’s not the point Mina, it’s not safe.”

  Her face softened, but when she spoke the tone was resolute.

  “At what age does the safest place in the universe stop being my dad?”

  That…truly broke him. Now it was his turn to consider her words, and she let him.

  “So, are we going,” she created a circle with her fingers, “or not? Because the crew’s already made up their mind, and before you try sneaking off without us just remember that the Empire has generous subsidies for citizens who want to get to Alma Prime.”

  Daiko wasn’t sure he’d ever been dispatched so handily… until he remembered their sparring match earlier.

  “I’ll talk to Christian,” he hardly believed what he was saying. “But your little plan only works if he says yes.”

  Mina scoffed. She stood and scooped up his food tray.

  “You’re Asparia’s Dragon, the great Mons Hitori.” Her smile was utterly victorious. “I have every confidence in you.”

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