Mitama tilted his head.
"Didn't you just say you'd rather die than talk?"
"I-I was being polite!" the man whimpered. "I have some pride, you know—Ugh!!"
Aila pressed her blade lightly against his throat. "Speak," she said coldly.
"No more nonsense."
The man swallowed hard, then spilled everything he knew.
The surviving wandering samurai trembled as he recounted everything he knew. It turned out their attack wasn't random at all—it was the result of purchased intelligence.
In recent years, the wandering swordsmen of Inazuma—Nobushi—had found a new way to survive. Somewhere in the shadows, a cloaked figure had begun selling them detailed information.
This "mysterious man" wore a black robe, his face always hidden. Yet his intel was frighteningly precise—he knew when nobles departed Inazuma City, where they were headed, and even how many guards accompanied them.
Several bands of Nobushi had used his information to pull off successful ambushes, earning enough to abandon the blood-soaked life of drifters. And when they boasted of their newfound fortune, others, naturally, followed. This group had been among them.
Futsu Mitama listened quietly, his expression difficult to read. "So you decided to set your sights on me?"
"W-we didn't mean to!" the wandering samurai stammered, his face pale. "We came to pick some violetgrass and raspberries to eat, that's all! Who knew you'd appear here?"
He swallowed hard before continuing. "Our boss said you were an easy target, that the intel claimed you traveled light—no guards, just a maid. That's why we… we thought we could risk it."
Mitama sighed softly. "So that's how it is. Coincidence, then."
Aila, standing beside him, narrowed her eyes. "Where is the intelligence document?"
"I—I don't know," the samurai said hurriedly. "It should be with the boss—the one you… uh… decapitated first."
He pointed toward the body on the ground, his voice trembling. "If it's not on him, I can take you to our temporary camp."
Mitama searched the corpse in silence. A few moments later, he pulled out a small pouch of mora and a rolled parchment. He unsealed it and skimmed the contents.
His brows furrowed ever so slightly. Then, without a word, he folded the paper and tucked it away.
"...Young Master," Aila whispered, her gaze suddenly turning toward the road ahead. Mitama understood at once—someone was coming.
Moments later, a crisp voice rang out.
"What happened here, Futsu Mitama?"
A woman approached, flanked by Shogunate soldiers. She wore the black tengu mask of the Tenryou Commission, her sharp golden eyes taking in the scene.
Kujou Sara.
She had been on her way to Yashiori Island to suppress the newly formed Resistance, but the stench of blood had diverted her path.
"As you can see," Mitama said helplessly, gesturing at the corpses. "They tried to rob me. Aila dealt with them."
He pointed at the one surviving samurai. "Since you're here, I'll leave him to you."
Kujou Sara nodded, and two soldiers stepped forward to restrain the man. The samurai didn't resist—he practically begged to be taken away, terrified of spending another second near Aila.
"Heading back to the city?" Kujou Sara asked.
Mitama spread his hands. "What else? It's almost dark. I just wanted to go home, eat dinner, and sleep. Instead, I got robbed."
"If it weren't for Aila, I'd probably be halfway to being sold off by now."
Kujou Sara chuckled softly. "You? Somehow I doubt that. I've seen you fight."
Mitama grimaced. "Still not joining your army, if that's what you're getting at."
Kujou Sara smiled faintly, unoffended. "You always refuse me the same way. Fine. But be careful. Nobushi activity has risen lately—if you encounter trouble, the Tenryou Commission will take you in."
"Appreciate the offer," he said simply.
With that, Sara and her soldiers departed.
Back in Inazuma City, the familiar scent of sakura drifted through the air. Mitama's home, modest yet refined, glowed softly in the lamplight.
Aila moved efficiently around the hearth, preparing dinner. Before long, a warm meal filled the table. As they ate, Mitama unrolled the intelligence document again. He stared at it for a long moment, then passed it to Aila.
"Here. Look at this." Aila scanned it quickly, her expression darkening.
It was a list—noble names and itineraries. But the details were uneven. Those affiliated with the Kamisato Clan were meticulously documented: schedules, routes, and properties.
The other two Commissions, however, were barely mentioned—only names, no specifics.
"It's obvious," Mitama said. "Whoever wrote this is targeting the Yashiro Commission."
Aila nodded slightly. "So this is a ploy by the Tenryou and Kanjou Commissions."
"Exactly." Mitama set down his bowl and rose from his seat. "Once we're done eating, we'll go to the Kamisato Estate."
His eyes hardened.
"They need to know someone is trying to bleed them from the shadows."
Noble affiliated with the Kamisato Clan, so visiting at night was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
"Oh, rare guests! What brings you two here tonight?"
When Futsu Mitama and Aila arrived, they happened to encounter Thoma, who was about to head out. As the Kamisato Clan's housekeeper and one of Inazuma's well-known figures, Thoma was quick to greet them with his usual warmth.
Futsu Mitama, Kamisato Ayato, and Kamisato Ayaka had not met often in person. In contrast, he and Aila were far more familiar with Thoma, since most of the Kamisato Clan's daily affairs were handled by him — and he had always been diligent and reliable.
"I have something important to discuss with the clan head," Futsu Mitama said directly, handing over the paper. "You should take a look first."
Thoma blinked in confusion and accepted the paper. After reading it carefully, the color drained from his face. His expression turned solemn.
"Please wait here a moment. I'll go inform the young lady at once." He had immediately noticed that most of the names listed were retainers and affiliates of the Kamisato Clan. If these people were to die or vanish, the Kamisato name would indeed be reduced to just that — a name. The Yashiro Commission's influence would be crippled overnight, forced to yield to the will of the other two commissions.
"Alright."
Futsu Mitama didn't object. He and Aila waited quietly by the entrance.
Before long, Thoma hurried back, slightly out of breath. "Futsu Mitama, the young lady invites you inside."
"Understood." Futsu Mitama nodded and followed him in, with Aila trailing respectfully behind.
Led through the quiet corridors of the Kamisato Estate, they soon arrived before the reception room. Aila stopped at the door, standing at attention — this was not a place where a maid could enter. Thoma also remained outside, making a polite gesture of invitation.
Futsu Mitama stepped into the room. There, seated gracefully on her knees, was the Kamisato Clan's young lady — Kamisato Ayaka, the Shirasagi Himegimi herself. Her calm gaze met his, and his reflection appeared clearly in her serene blue eyes.
"Good evening, Futsu Mitama."
Kamisato Ayaka smiled — a soft, elegant smile, gentle as moonlight. For a brief moment, Futsu Mitama was taken aback, as if he had been pulled back to the first time he met her — that unforgettable moment when he had just arrived in this world.
Back then, he had little time for conversation or sentiment. His only focus was survival — earning enough mora for himself and Aila. Only now, after being dragged into the schemes of the two commissions, did he once again step into the Kamisato Estate, seeking counsel.
"Good evening," Futsu Mitama replied, quickly regaining his composure and taking a seat opposite her.
"Please, have some tea," Ayaka said kindly. She personally poured a cup of clear, fragrant tea, her movements refined and precise — every gesture befitting her titles as both noblewoman and Shirasagi Himegimi.
"Thank you." Futsu Mitama took a sip, then raised his eyes. "I wonder what the Kamisato Clan thinks about this matter."
The question caught Ayaka slightly off guard. Most visitors would exchange pleasantries before getting to the point, but Futsu Mitama went straight to business.
Still, she maintained her gentle smile. "Regarding this matter, my brother and I have discussed it. Recently, those affiliated with the Yashiro Commission have been encountering various forms of trouble. And whenever such incidents occur, the Tenryou Commission conveniently appears to 'help' resolve them."
"After all," she continued softly, "the Yashiro Commission is responsible for ceremonies and cultural affairs. We have neither the authority nor the means to directly interfere in military matters."
Her words were carefully chosen, but their meaning was clear — the Tenryou Commission was playing dirty, and the Yashiro Commission could do little to counter it openly.
The Kanjou Commission, too, had taken advantage of the situation, its methods more discreet but no less insidious.
"Is there truly no other way?" Futsu Mitama frowned. The feeling of being constrained, of having to endure insult and provocation without retaliation, was intolerable to him.
"My brother has already taken steps to address this," Ayaka replied with quiet confidence. "Please rest assured — this will soon be settled. The Yashiro Commission is one of the Three Commissions. They wouldn't dare to go too far."
She paused, then added firmly, "If they still overstep their bounds, my brother will request an audience with the Shogun to seek justice."
Her tone was mild, yet her words carried an unmistakable resolve. If the other two commissions pushed further, the Kamisato Clan would take the matter directly to the Shogun herself. Futsu Mitama remained silent. For anyone else, hearing such reassurance would have brought relief. But he knew better.
The one sitting in the Tenshukaku was no longer Raiden Ei, but a puppet.
And though that puppet still handled a few formal matters, she had long ceased to involve herself in the affairs of the mortal world — unless someone dared to challenge her concept of eternity.
Ayaka, noticing his silence, grew curious. Many had come before him to raise similar concerns, but their reactions were predictable — relief mixed with flustered gratitude. Futsu Mitama's lack of faith, however, was unusual.
Her brother, Kamisato Ayato, had already gone to warn the Kujou and Hiiragi Clans — subtly but firmly. Should they persist, he would not hesitate to employ the Shuumatsuban to deliver a hidden warning of his own.
Yet here was Futsu Mitama — calm, unreadable, and unpersuaded. Ayaka studied him for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Futsu Mitama, may I ask you something?"
"Hm?" He looked up from his thoughts, a little surprised by her sudden question. "Please, go ahead."
Ayaka's gaze grew more serious, though her voice remained gentle.
"What do you think of the current Inazuma... or rather — of the Sakoku Decree and the Vision Hunt Decree?"