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A single white dish, filled to the brim with junmei-shu. How did such a poor man get one of the finest sakes out there? He didn't have any idea; he just wanted something to get him drunker faster.
He looked up at the moon. It looked like the dish in his right hand. He lifted the dish to his lips and sipped. The burning liquid going down his throat. The familiar warmth in his cheeks and stomach helped distract him from the immense pain in his shoulders and legs.
He sighed and looked up at the moon again; silver hair blowing in the breeze. He was distantly reminded of a haiku he heard somewhere in his childhood.
kumo ori ori /
hito o yasumeru /
tsukimi kana
( Even beauty is best appreciated when occasionally veiled)
The heat in his stomach was gradually growing colder as blood slowly drained from his body because a wound near his heart.
How ironic.
He had loved and lost so much that his heart hurt and now his heart was going to be his death sentence.
He took another sip from the dish, almost emptying it. He sighed as he took his final sip and layed back on the porch he was sitting on, the pleasant breeze blowing by in the spring night.
He closed his eyes and dreamed of sakura.
~~~~~~~
Careful red eyes blink open a couple weeks after closing for what he thought was the last time. He looked to his left without moving, asleep in the chair was kagura. He looked to his right, sleeping in that chair was shinpachi. He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath.
He was glad to see his kids again.
He was reminded of a proverb this time,
"Keizoku wa chikara nari" Continuance is power.
And it is.