i think this is it.

Autumn was Hattori's favourite time of year. Made him feel as though he bled into the scenery, like he belonged. The climate was far more agreeable too, a distant cry from the sweltering summer nights that made sleep difficult, like a hare he couldn't catch no matter how hard he pursued it. Maybe it was Tenshi's tea though, working its wonders, either way he was settled and content enough. Sayuri's absence was still felt, but not like a wound...more like the feeling of looking upon a felled tree. The moment of realisation that it would never grow again, that its branches would soon fall barren, that it had shifted into something else. Loss, but somehow not quite.

And yet something's stayed the same, as they should. Some might argue Tojo was too cut off, irrelevant in the political scheme of things, but in Hattori's mind this was how it ought to be. If he was needed, most knew where to find him and that ought to be enough, no?

Allowing his musings to simper to an end, he eyed the rolling waves ahead of him. The water was a little fiercer here than the Bay, had more of a temperament as it rolled back and forth up the beach. He hadn't come here when it was so warm, but as a drizzle began to fall he noted he liked this place enough. That if nothing else it was worthy of consideration when it was time to expand. Did they need more fishing grounds though? Not really, the Bay provided all they needed and so he turned his sights to the Oaks instead.

This land was dark and shady, full of ancient and gnarled trees whose trunks held seasons of stories...if they could speak. There was plenty of space to hide, to disappear just as easily as in the Bamboo Maze. It felt right, enclosed and private, befitting of Tojo's nature.

"Speech"