Tadashi eyed the man in front of him.
Perhaps forty. Perhaps older. The man's hair held the faintest brown tint beneath the dampness, not yet gray but moving toward it. His shoulders were straight despite the soldiers' hands gripping his arms. That posture spoke of discipline. Long years of it. Training yards. Strategy rooms.
The angle of his eyes whispered teacher.
Then there was the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not defiance. Not quite.
Acceptance.
Tadashi coughed lightly.
Three of the six soldiers beside him turned their heads immediately. Alert. Ready.
The other three did not move. They knew the sound meant Tadashi was thinking.
"So," Tadashi said after a moment. "What's your name?"
The man blinked once.
"Genjo Masahiro."
His jaw tightened as he finished the words.
"I know who you are, Tadashi."
One of the soldiers shoved him hard in the back before the name finished leaving his mouth.
Genjo staggered forward a half-step. Not violently. Almost…easily.
Too easily.
Tadashi did not move.
The gorge held the sound of boots against stone. The damp walls carried every small noise in thin echoes. Rainwater still crept down the rock in narrow lines.
"Hm," Tadashi murmured. "With an exhausted cart-horse. Interesting."
Genjo's gaze shifted briefly.
First to the six soldiers surrounding him.
Then toward the mouth of the gorge, where the remaining riders waited beyond the bend.
When he looked back, the corner of his mouth flickered again. Something close to a smile.
"You're from Sarai, aren't you," Tadashi said suddenly.
Genjo's spine straightened as if struck.
Tadashi noted the reaction without visible satisfaction.
"What are you to them?" he asked quietly.
A pause followed.
Genjo shook his head slowly.
"Nothing."
The nearest soldier struck him across the ribs.
Genjo grunted but remained upright.
Tadashi lifted a hand.
The soldier stepped back immediately.
Truth was truth, even when inconvenient.
"What were you?" Tadashi continued, eyes narrowing slightly.
Genjo made a sound. A dry exhale that might have been laughter.
"That," he said, "is my own business."
None of the soldiers moved to strike him again.
Tadashi tilted his head.
"I'm sure you knew Arai Junzo," he said after a moment.
The effect was immediate.
Genjo's shoulders tightened.
Betrayal.
Behind Tadashi, Shiro's breath shifted almost imperceptibly.
Tadashi half-closed his eyes.
"…Knew?" Genjo said.
His voice had changed.
Only slightly.
Tadashi sighed.
"Knew," he confirmed. "He was one of your spies. Of course."
A drop of water slid from the gorge wall and struck a stone beside them.
"Well," Tadashi continued mildly, "that's taken care of now."
Genjo's gaze hardened.
For the first time, something like genuine anger moved through his posture.
Tadashi watched it carefully.
"What brings you here to the borders, Genjo Masahiro?"
The sun had climbed higher beyond the gorge walls. Pale morning light reached down in thin strips between the rocks.
They were wasting time, Tadashi decided almost unconsciously.
Genjo did not answer.
Instead he moved.
Violently.
His shoulders twisted out of the soldiers' grasp before either could tighten their hold. His hand shot to the hilt at his side.
Steel rasped sharply as it left the scabbard. The sound rang through the gorge.
Genjo stumbled backward several paces, sword raised. His breathing had quickened, though his stance remained steady.
One of Tadashi's soldiers lunged forward.
Tadashi shoved him aside without looking.
"No," he said.
The word was quiet.
But it stopped the man immediately.
Tadashi stepped forward.
His own sword slid free with a controlled, unhurried motion.
For a moment the two men faced one another.
Genjo held his blade with both hands, the tip angled slightly downward. A defensive guard. Practical. Disciplined.
Tadashi advanced another step.
The damp stone shifted faintly underfoot.
The valoren struck.
It was a feint.
A shallow lunge aimed high, testing.
Genjo reacted exactly as expected. His sword rose to meet the strike, deflecting Tadashi's blade outward.
That was the mistake.
Tadashi pivoted.
His wrist twisted with practiced precision, catching Genjo's blade along its flat. Steel slid along steel with a thin screech.
Tadashi stepped inside the man's guard.
His elbow drove sharply against Genjo's forearm. Genjo's grip broke, his wrist twisted. He cried out despite himself.
The sword clattered against stone. Tadashi kicked it away, somewhere off to the side. He kept his eyes on the man in front of him.
The sound of Genjo's shout echoed once and vanished.
Tadashi did not pause. His blade moved in a short, efficient arc.
Then the gorge fell silent again as Genjo's body sagged.
For a moment he remained upright, as if the discipline in his spine refused to acknowledge the damage.
Then he collapsed to his knees.
Tadashi stepped back a pace or two.
"They fight well," he muttered quietly.
No one answered.
He wiped his sword against the man's tunic with careful strokes.
Blood darkened the already damp cloth.
When the blade was clean enough, Tadashi slid it back into the sheath.
He looked toward the soldiers.
"You," he said, pointing to two of them. "And you."
The men straightened.
"Dispose of the body," Tadashi continued. "Then join us in Norema by tomorrow morning."
Both nodded.
Tadashi turned away.
Shiro and the remaining three soldiers followed him toward the gorge entrance.
After several steps Tadashi stopped abruptly.
As if remembering something minor.
"Oh," he said.
The two soldiers looked up.
"And bring the horse."
The rest of the riders were still waiting where the gorge widened.
The horses stamped impatiently on the damp ground. Steam rose faintly from their flanks in the cool morning air.
Tadashi approached without hurry.
One of the soldiers stepped forward immediately.
"There were more than one here," the man said quickly.
Tadashi stopped.
"We traced the tracks," the soldier continued. "Two seem to have come from Hiyashi."
He hesitated.
"Then there was one with the horse."
Tadashi frowned slightly.
He looked back toward the gorge.
The mist had begun to lift from the low ground. Sunlight touched the upper ridges now. Pretty, maybe, but Tadashi didn't care for pretty.
"We don't have time," he said.
The soldier stiffened.
"We'll deal with it later," Tadashi finished. "If it becomes a problem."
The soldier nodded.
As Tadashi turned, the man's eyes caught on something.
A tiny stain of crimson on the valoren's tunic.
The soldier's mouth opened.
"Sir—"
Tadashi ignored him completely.
He placed one boot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle.
The warhorse shifted beneath him, then settled.
The remaining soldiers mounted quickly, Shiro at Tadashi's side. Tadashi didn't look at him.
For a moment the group stood silent in the morning light.
Then Tadashi nudged the horse forward.
They rode.
~~~
Rii was not sure what this village was called.
It had no walls.
That meant it was newer. Or simply unimportant enough not to need them.
Either way, it was quiet.
She left Nishi tied to a post near a trough where clear water collected from a stone channel. The horse lowered his head gratefully.
Rii rested a hand briefly against the animal's neck.
"Stay," she murmured.
Nishi did not object. Of course he didn't.
Rii walked into the village, her first steps uneven, like she was learning how to walk again.
The streets were narrow and uneven, packed earth softened by the previous night's rain. Small houses lined the road, their wooden shutters open to the morning air.
She did not know what she was looking for.
She only knew she did not want to keep riding alone.
A full day.
Most of a night.
Nishi could not go any farther.
She should have reached Mino's group already.
Unless she was right.
Unless he had changed the route.
Rii's jaw tightened.
Children played in the street ahead.
Four of them chased one another around a pile of firewood stacked beside a house. Their laughter carried lightly across the square.
They stopped when they saw her.
Wide eyes.
A moment of silent curiosity.
Rii smiled at them.
Only then did she remember she was no longer wearing her mask.
The realization felt strange. Exposed, almost.
Still, a smile was harmless.
The children ran past her a moment later, their game continuing as if she were only another traveler passing through.
Rii found a well near the center of the village.
She drew water slowly and drank from the bucket.
Cool. Clean.
Beautiful.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
The waterbags were still tied to Nishi's saddle.
She should refill them.
And yet…
What was the point?
A shout broke the quiet.
Rii turned.
Two boys stood near a narrow yard between houses.
They were sparring.
Wooden swords struck together with sharp cracks. One of them moved forward aggressively, swinging with more enthusiasm than control.
The other stepped back, deflecting each strike carefully.
Rii watched for a moment.
The first boy had energy.
The second had patience.
Neither had discipline.
Before she realized what she was doing, she had crossed the street.
The boys stopped immediately.
They stared at her.
Rii smiled again.
"You're pretty good," she said slowly.
The boy holding the attacking stance flushed.
"Thanks," he muttered.
The other shifted awkwardly, his wooden blade lowering slightly.
Rii extended a hand.
"Want me to show you?"