A Light in the Shadows
She had been abandoned by her parents as a child.
Her clan took her in and raised her as an assassination weapon, but they never gave her a name.
For twenty years.
Not being a legitimate member of the clan, she endured the contempt and jealousy of the other ninjas.
There was no particular reason. She simply had to, having lived that way since her earliest memories, when it all felt natural.
But as a child, whenever the clan elders called the other kids by name, a quiet wish stirred in her heart—that she had a name too.
The one who noticed was a girl her age, the Elder's Daughter.
She had come to the clan with her father and happened to spot the girl crying alone in a corner.
"Why are you crying by yourself? ...Huh? You don't have a name?"
The girl looked baffled.
Then her eyes lit up as if she'd remembered something.
"Want me to make one up for you? Aki, Yui, Sora, Hikaru... Any you like? Oops, Dad's calling me. Don't cry—see ya!"
Most of it faded like passing words.
But one lingered deep in her heart.
Hikaru.
A name meaning "to shine."
One day, overwhelmed by her comrades' torment and sobbing endlessly, she clung to the hope that someday she too would see the light.
And so, she called herself Hikaru.
"Hikaru... Pretty name."
I tried to hide my surprise.
In the original story, she had no name. Or so I'd thought.
But it just never came up in the original.
She wasn't nameless—she simply never told anyone. Not even the original Sato Kenji.
I swallowed a quiet sigh.
I couldn't quite grasp what it meant that she'd told me.
Surely she'd opened up to Kenji later on.
Hikaru fidgeted with her hem, looking anxious.
"...Isn't it weird?"
"What?"
"The name. It doesn't suit a ninja. I'm more shadow than light."
Ninjas lurk in darkness.
From the moment she could walk, she'd learned to hide, to sense her surroundings even in the blackest night.
Yet Hikaru meant radiance.
I got what she meant, but I didn't see it that way.
"You think? I like it. Suits you perfectly."
"..."
Hikaru fell silent, her face blank as if she didn't know what to say.
I chuckled and closed the chart.
"Hang tight till we close up? Watch TV in the waiting room if you're bored."
She nodded faintly.
As she stood, I offered my hand.
"Let's go, Hikaru."
Her shoulders twitched at the casual call of her name.
"Huh? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
She clutched the medicine bag to her chest and gripped my hand tight.
I caught the tiniest upward curl of her lips.
She likes hearing her name.
Supporting her as we walked, I resolved to use it more often.
Closing time neared.
Once cleanup was done, the other nurses headed home.
Left in the clinic: Hikaru glued to the TV, me, and Okada Reiko eyeing me with narrowed gaze.
Reiko glanced at Hikaru, then whispered low.
"Doctor, what's her deal? Those wounds... they're odd."
Years as a nurse had taught her to guess a injury's cause at a glance.
I shrugged.
"No idea. Met her yesterday."
"Stab wounds, Doctor."
Reiko looked up at me seriously.
"Faint scars on her palms too. Doesn't look like a random street attack... You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. No need to worry."
I skipped the details.
She didn't need to know, and I didn't want Hikaru's info spreading.
Reiko studied me, sighed, and nodded.
"Got it. There must be a reason you're saying this. Just... tell me if it's dangerous."
"Will do. Good work today. See you tomorrow."
She left without pressing.
Trust built over years.
She was curious, sure.
But what could ya do?
Still, feel a bit bad. Gotta give her a fat bonus this month.
I sat beside Hikaru.
"Hikaru, tough wait?"
She flinched at her name, then smiled faintly my way.
"No. You've done all the work."
"Haha, what's with that tone? Like a wife greeting her husband at home..."
I cut myself off.
Comparing us to husband and wife?
Would she think it weird?
My face burned anyway, like I'd let hidden desires slip.
Luckily, Hikaru didn't mind, gazing ahead.
"Saw it in a drama."
"Which one?"
"Good Wife and Wise Mother."
"Huh? That's a huge hit. You hadn't seen it?"
Not that I'd watched it myself—the original Kenji had, and enjoyed it.
"Yeah. First time with TV."
Her calm voice clashed with the words; it took a beat to sink in.
"...You've never watched TV before? Ever?"
"Clan controlled it. Only glimpses at shops or hiding in targets' homes."
"How old are you this year?"
"Twenty."
Good lord. What kind of clan was this?
Controlled even that till twenty.
My silence weighed the air; Hikaru shifted topics.
"That tone earlier... How was it? Like it?"
"Huh? You mean did I like it?"
She raised a finger.
"Step one to becoming a good wife and wise mother: Express thanks and praise often."
"Pfft! Straight from the drama?"
"It said it'd make you see me as a good person... Was it weird?"
She lowered her hand uncertainly.
I shook my head.
"Nah. I liked it. But no need to force a tone that doesn't fit."
She was calling it good wife steps, but really learning to connect with people—what she'd have picked up naturally otherwise.
She looked sheepish, eyes dropping.
"Heard it a lot growing up. That I talk too rough, so people stay away."
"..."
"Sure, I didn't like them much either, so I got meaner on purpose sometimes..."
Hikaru paused, lips pressed, then lifted her gaze.
"But maybe it stuck. Don't wanna talk that way to you."
I didn't know her past details.
But it sounded sensitive.
Extreme control, total isolation—things no normal group member endures.
She'd sensed it herself by now.
No need to dwell on the heaviness here.
"Then mission accomplished."
I kept it light.
She tilted her head.
"Huh?"
"That line? Sounded pretty."
Hikaru blinked.
Then, catching on late, her ears pinked.
I hesitated, then spoke.
"Hikaru. Do you resent your clan?"
A life of total control—what did she think?
Her eyes widened, head cocking.
"Resent the clan? Why?"
I was speechless.
She truly didn't get it.
"...Never mind. Ready to head home?"
I tamped down the rising fury.
What did that clan think of a person's life?
"Sure."
Hikaru nodded.
I helped her out to the car.
En route, we chatted idly.
Never tried convenience store bento.
No movies.
Phone only for missions; long ones meant catnaps without hotels.
Her voice stayed even through it all.
Ask if it bothered her, and she'd look at me like I was odd.
"Why would it? Missions are like that."
"..."
She was fully indoctrinated.
Telling her the clan's wrong wouldn't click.
One answer: show her normal life.
Sitting at a table, chatting over meals.
Laughing at favorite dramas.
Wandering streets for no reason.
Free from orders, just because you want to.
Days like that exist—she doesn't know yet.
First, warm meal at home.
I glanced at Hikaru in the passenger seat, pondered dinner, and turned the wheel quietly.