CHAPTER 29: THE APPRENTICE

The next week, Colonel Song was back, this time accompanied by his superiors, Shirojima’s provincial governor, and representatives from the Yammanka military. Song’s idiot translator, Chou Kyung-tek, was there to introduce all of them in clumsy Shirojima Dialect.

“I present to you General Chun Chang-ho, Lieutenant Bek Jin-kyu, and your Prefectural Governor Lo Dong-soo. I believe you have already met Colonel Song Byung-woo.”

Takeru bowed politely to each of the men.

“I also ask you to please welcome the representatives of our Yammanka allies, General Burema Kende, Lieutenant General Lansana Wagadu, and their translator and counselor, Jali Seydu Tirama.” There was a second jaseli with the Yammankalu, younger than the first, wearing simpler robes. Misaki could only guess that he was the real jaseli’s apprentice—a fairly new apprentice, judging by his age and nervousness—but he didn’t get an introduction.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Takeru spoke to the Yammankalu in Kaigengua, and Jali Tirama translated his words smoothly to Yammaninke. “Thank you for being here.” Then, in Yammanka fashion, Takeru reached out and took General Kende’s hand in his.

Misaki had gone over the tajaka greeting gesture with Takeru, convincing him to practice with her until it started to feel natural. The practice was only partially to make Takeru appear better informed before the foreign visitors. More than anything, Misaki wanted the Yammankalu to feel who they were dealing with. It worked. She noted subtle expressions of surprise on the tajakalu’s faces as their fingers touched Takeru’s and their lips touched his knuckles. Takeru was colder and palpably more powerful than the representatives of the Emperor, and Yammankalu, if nothing else, respected power.

“You will, of course, quarter us in your house, Matsuda,” General Chun said.

“Yes,” Takeru said stiffly. “Of course.”

Fantastic, Misaki thought. With each of the important officials put up in their own room, there would not actually be space in the half-destroyed Matsuda compound for the Matsudas themselves. Misaki and Setsuko would, of course, be expected to be available to serve tea and food that they couldn’t actually afford to give up, but the family would have to find a different place to sleep.

“Did you have something to add, Manga—I mean— Koroyaa?” the younger jaseli asked.

Koroyaa. Misaki blinked in surprise as she realized the question had been directed at her. It was a respectful address for a female member of the warrior class. The out-of-place question spoke of the jaseli’s innocence; in Yamma, a married man and woman were equals, managing all important affairs together. This must have been his first time in Kaigen if the gender dynamics made him so uncomfortable.

Not only that, he had very nearly called Misaki Manga Koroyaa—a title for a woman of a ruling clan. In another country, a noble family like the Matsudas would have held manga koro status, but in Kaigen, the only official manga koro family was the Imperial house. Kaigen wasn’t like Yamma, where many powerful families were allowed to flex their strength and vie for the throne if they wished. The Emperor of Kaigen didn’t want any line other than his own claiming the inherent right to rule over any piece of his Empire, however small.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Jalike,” Misaki returned, equally respectful. “I’m only here to support my husband.”

It was demeaning, but Misaki found herself smiling. She had learned from her days spying that an inexperienced jaseli was like a poorly guarded treasury. Only the thing jaseliwu guarded was far more valuable than money; it was information.

“Setsuko, I need to ask a favor,” Misaki said once the military officials and their translators were comfortably settled in the Matsuda compound.

“Sure thing.”

“I need you to play hostess for a while in my stead.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just on a little adventure,” Misaki said, cracking her neck. “Going to see if I’m as smart as I used to think I was.”

“Shall I get my niece?” It was what Setsuko had started calling Siradenyaa, since Misaki had explained the little sword’s origins and the name ‘Shadow’s Daughter.’

“No,” Misaki laughed, “but I am going to take this nephew of yours.” She lifted Izumo out of his drawer—they were going to have to relinquish this room to their guests anyway—and bundled him into a sling.

“On an adventure?” Setsuko said, looking curious.

“He’s cuter than I am,” Misaki said, “makes me seem sympathetic and unthreatening. Isn’t that right, little buddy?” She tapped Izumo on the nose.

“What—”

“I’ll tell you how it goes when I get back... if there’s anything to tell. Hopefully, there will be a lot.”

Misaki waited in the shadows behind Hyori’s shack, out of sight of the footpath through the village. Apprentices almost always got sent out on errands for their masters. The young jaseli was sure to emerge eventually, alone, and she would have her chance.

When she heard his shuffling footsteps and his teeth chattering in the perfectly pleasant spring air, she stepped out from behind the shack and ‘accidentally’ ran into him.

“Oh,” the boy said in surprise. Then, hilariously, he tried to speak Kaigengua: “I... the truth of it is... I was making the way of... of walking in the direction of the place for to speak with one’s lover—”

“I nyuman, Jaliden,” Misaki said, trying hard not to laugh. “N’ye Yammaninke muku.”

“Oh.” The jaseli’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “I forgot you could speak my language. As I was saying—or trying to—I was just on my way to deliver this message to your husband.” He pulled a piece of kayiri from the front of his robe.

“My husband is busy right now,” Misaki said, “but I would be happy to deliver it for you.”

“Oh...” the boy hesitated and then handed her the letter. “Alright. Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble. And I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name, jaseli.”

“Oh—sorry, Koroyaa. I’m Moriba Gesseke.”

Gesseke. The boy was from a prestigious family. That was probably how he had secured an apprenticeship with such a skilled jaseli despite his lack of wit and charm. If he stumbled over his words this much back home in Yamma, his clan might have deliberately sent him to apprentice overseas to avoid embarrassment. Misaki would have placed him in his late teens or early twenties, the right age to be taking on his first serious apprenticeship.

“I’m actually very glad you’re here,” Misaki said. “I was going to ask your master about a few things, but since you’re a Gesseke and you seem very competent, I wonder if you can help me.”

“I can try, Koroyaa,” the boy said, clearly flattered. “What is it?”

“It’s just that, I’ve gotten some conflicting information from the Kaigenese soldiers I’ve spoken to. I wondered if you could offer me some clarity, from your uniquely informed position.”

“Oh—um...” Gesseke looked apprehensive. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Really?” Misaki put on a crestfallen face. “I just thought that, as the apprentice to the Yammankalu’s main jaseli here, you might know what actually happened to this village.”

“I do, Koroyaa. I’m just not sure if I can tell you. Not without permission from my superiors.”

“You need permission from your superiors to help a grieving woman put her doubts to rest?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to know. I’m just not sure your Empire would want me to... I can’t risk it.”

“You can’t risk it?” Misaki said with a calculated tremor of incredulous fear.

“Sorry?”

“I have a family, jaseli,” Misaki let her voice shake, sounding vulnerable. Not out of control. Just vulnerable enough. “A little baby. You think I want to get them all killed?”

“I... that’s not what I was trying to insinuate—”

“If you are worried about displeasing the Kaigenese Empire, I’m not someone you need to fear. All I want is to keep my family safe. And here in Kaigen, safe means being in line with the Empire’s plan. You don’t seem to understand; the only way I can do that is if I know the whole story.”

“I don’t know, Koroyaa...”

“If you never want me to repeat what you tell me to anyone, I won’t. I just need to know.”

“But...”

“You belong to a great line of wordsmiths, Moriba Gesseke,” Misaki said, deciding to try out a jaseli tactic herself, “singers and confidants to kings and queens.” The Daybreak jaseliwu always said a man was more malleable when his head was swelled with praise. “For generations, members of your family have aided the Yammanka elite, cooling their anger, stoking their strength, guiding them through so many times of trouble. You, of all people, would understand how important it is for a leader to have good counsel.”

“Yes,” Gesseke agreed, though he looked confused.

“You understand the danger of a powerful koro without a loyal confidant to rein him in.”

“Of course.”

“Well, this village has no jaseliwu,” Misaki pressed toward the point before the young man could get too lost. “Our only jaseliwu were the Hibikis, and their entire family was wiped out in the attack. My husband has no advisors. He just has me. Surely you felt the nyama coming off my husband. His temper is not to be underestimated.”

“Koro Matsuda, are you threatening me?”

“No.” Misaki let herself sound scandalized and hurt. “Never, jaseli! I am... imploring you. If my husband can’t put his rage to rest, if he lashes out, my whole family will be in danger. Please. Help me save my family.”

The boy looked torn.

“My husband is a great man, but he is also a traditional one. He can’t negotiate between Kaigenese, Yammanka, and Ranganese culture and ideas the way that I can. Now, I can keep him working in line with your superiors’ plans, but in order to do that, I need to know what those plans are. I need to understand what is really going on.”

Gesseke still seemed uncertain. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to talk about these things with the locals...”

Misaki was surprised that he hadn’t been explicitly told not to reveal secrets to the people of Takayubi until she realized that they were probably not expecting anyone in Takayubi to speak proficient enough Yammaninke to communicate with him.

“I understand,” she said quickly, “but believe me, I don’t intend to misuse your knowledge. I swear it.” She adopted a solemn tone. “Jali Gesseke, I swear on the Falleke that I will never repeat a word of this to anyone.” Over ninety percent of Duna’s population worshipped the Falleke. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t occur to this Yammanka-born jaseli that Misaki might not be one of them. He glanced around and then motioned her out of the open. Safely behind Hyori’s shack, he met Misaki’s eyes.

“You mustn’t tell my jakama I spoke so openly to you.”

“Of course,” Misaki assured him. “I would never meddle between jaseliwu.”

“As I’m sure you have noticed from this attack, the Ranganese military has made great strides since the Keleba in terms of their troops’ training.”

“We did notice.”

“Despite that, Ranga is still a relatively young power on the world stage. They still have the goal of eventually engaging Kaigen in another war and destroying the Empire completely, but they don’t have a lot of confidence in their military. Our Ranganese spies have determined that these attacks were a sort of test.”

“A test?” Misaki asked, feeling sick.

“You seem like a smart woman; I’m sure you’ve noted the commonality between all the areas Ranga attacked?”

Misaki nodded. “They’re the old fighting powers, the places where the Ranganese suffered the heaviest casualties during the Keleba.”

Gesseke nodded. “What happened to your village and the other targeted areas was an experiment, to see if Ranga had become powerful enough to declare open war on Kaigen.”

“And what did they find?” Misaki’s stomach knotted in dread and she clutched Izumo close. If Kaigen had to fight another war, then they were all dead. She understood that now with a cold certainty she had never been able to accept before. There would be no running away. She had married onto Kaigen’s blade edge and made her family here. “Is there going to be war, jaseli?”

“No, but it was a close thing, Koro Matsuda. The Ranganese tested their strength on eight targets in total.”

“Eight?” Misaki said in surprise. There had only been news of storms in Heibando, Yongseom, and Ishihama before Takayubi was attacked.

“Four great houses and four military strongholds,” Gesseke said.

“I see.” It was easier to cover up an attack in which few civilians had been involved. “And what happened to the military strongholds?”

“All of them were completely overrun,” the jaseli said. “In three cases, the Kaigenese military was able to hold off Ranga’s rank and file soldiers, but those elite forces... they were no match for them.”

Misaki could hardly blame the Kaigenese soldiers. It took more than a few years of military training to face fighters as good as those Ranganese in black.

“I don’t know if you realize,” the jaseli said, “what you did here was extraordinary.”

“No,” Misaki said innocently, although of course, she realized how extraordinary it had been. It was why having to take orders from Kaigen’s incompetent military officials was so insulting. “I mean, we were just trying to stay alive.”

“Well, you may have kept your whole empire alive in the process,” Gesseke said. “The Ranganese Union still fears the warriors of these old houses like yours, with good reason. I suppose it must be frightening to consider that a small handful of civilians could do away with hundreds of your best fighters. It is that fear that your Emperor and we Yammankalu brought to bear on Ranga, to pressure them into a truce.”

So, the Emperor will use us to intimidate his enemies, but won’t support us? Misaki thought bitterly.

“We... didn’t mention to the Ranganese how many of yours they managed to take with them.”

Misaki watched the shadow of a torch flame lap at the snow as she turned this new information over in her head.

“That explains why the Ranganese didn’t use bombs, or assassins, or more covert tactics,” she mused. “They wanted to pit their strongest fighters directly against ours...”

“That is correct. I doubt they had any idea there were theonites here who could diffuse their tornadoes or face their Sheng and Tian fighters in a melee. From what we can tell, some of their best fighters were sent here.”

“After the tornado broke,” Misaki said, “they sent their soldiers against us in waves. Was the intention to keep count? How many it took to destroy us?”

“We think so.”

“I see. So, the Ranganese soldiers were just game pieces too.”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to the Jamuttaana my fankama has been working with, most of the Ranganese soldiers involved in this attack were not forced to come here. They volunteered.”

“What? Why?”

“The Jamuttaana seemed to think some of them wanted revenge for what their parents and grandparents suffered under the Kaigenese Empire. Some of them believed they were freeing you. Most of them wanted the glory of bringing down Kaigen’s greatest warrior houses.

“When we gathered the bodies, the Empire’s military physicians did a rough survey of how many were killed by our bombs and bullets, and how many died of jiya-inflicted injuries. We’ve sent the Ranganese extensive photo evidence—hundreds of pictures—proving that jijakalu had killed most of their men before the Yammanka air support ever got here.”

“And they took your word for it?”

“The whole affair was mediated by agents of the Jamu Kurankite for transparency. This has been an ongoing discussion between Yamma, Kaigen, and Ranga. I wish there was some way your husband and the others could be allowed to know... You people should be incredibly proud of what you’ve done here. In fighting so hard, you truly have protected your Empire. Any jaseli would be proud to sing of your deeds for the next generation.”

“But it will have to stay quiet,” Misaki said.

The young jaseli nodded. “Koro Matsuda... I am so sorry about your son.”

Misaki just shook her head. She had done a good job controlling the interaction. If she let herself think about Mamoru, she would lose that control.

“Thank you, jaseli. I appreciate this.”

“Truly, I wish your people could know.”

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “Thank you for speaking to me.”

The jaseli looked like he wanted to say more but before he got the chance, Misaki gathered Izumo close to her chest and melted into the shadows.

........

Later that night, Misaki took Takeru outside in the dark—with two whole families squeezed into the Mizumaki house, it was the only privacy they would get—and told him what she had learned from the jaseli. He listened with a faint frown until she had finished.

“So, there is no immediate danger from the Ranganese,” he said. “We have time to rebuild.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m glad we have this information. That being said, you should not have done this thing without consulting me.”

Misaki frowned, annoyed. Did he know how difficult it could be to get information out of a jaseli, who couldn’t be threatened with force? And this was how thanked her?

“Well, no disrespect, Takeru-sama, but your Yammaninke isn’t very good. I don’t know that you would have been able to—”

“I am your husband, Misaki. Don’t act without my permission again.”

Misaki should have been angry. She was angry. After all he had seen her do, Takeru still couldn’t outgrow decades of sexism and arrogance in the space of a week. He still talked down to her casually. He still expected her to obey. Like nothing had changed.

She drew in a deep breath, ready to tell him that she didn’t need his permission to do as she pleased—but it was in that moment that she realized that something had changed. Her anger wasn’t tied up in silence now, smothering her. The defiant breath filled her lungs easily and she had already opened her mouth with a barb to throw back at him, unafraid. And that—the simple fact that she was not afraid to argue—felt wonderful.

She felt a grin spread across her face as she realized that they were going to end up arguing. If not today, then the next day, or the next, they were going to fight again. To most people, that might not have seemed like the sign of a happy marriage, but Misaki never felt so viscerally connected with someone as she did in the middle of a confrontation. She had fought with her father and brothers, with Koli, Elleen, and Robin, with everyone she had ever really loved.

Like a madwoman, she beamed up at her husband.

“Why are you smiling?” Takeru looked unsettled.

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s scary.”

Misaki chuckled, then did her best to look contrite. Takeru had enough to worry about today without her attacking him again. Some other time. In a future that no longer seemed so cold and empty.

“I’m sorry.” She meant it, but the lingering smile on her lips might not have done much to project honesty. “Truly, I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

“I’m not displeased that you spoke to the jaseli,” Takeru said. “I’m displeased that you acted alone.”

“I said I was sorry. I’ll obey you next time.”

“Obey me? Misaki, that’s not what I...” Takeru let out an agitated huff, and even in the dead of winter, his breath was so frozen that it misted and sank in the darkness.

“You what?” Misaki prompted when the tension had stretched too thin between them.

“I would like you to be honest with me and to trust me to protect you.”

“I do trust you,” she said earnestly. “I’m sorry.”

“That was a dangerous thing for you to do. What if you had been found out?”

“It wasn’t that much of a gamble, Takeru-sama. The boy wasn’t a real jaseli, just an apprentice far out of his depth. I knew I could handle him.”

“How could you know that?”

Misaki shrugged. “I hung out with some Yammanka jaseliwu at Daybreak. I learned to spot the weak ones.”

“Like you learned to spot fonyaka tornadoes?”

“Sure.”

Takeru’s frown had deepened, but he didn’t look angry. “Do we seem blind to you?”

“What?”

“Those of us who grew up in this village, believing firmly in everything the government told us,” Takeru said. “We must seem so blind to you.”

“Takeru-sama...” Misaki wanted to say ‘no’ but hadn’t she just finished apologizing for being dishonest? “It’s not your fault,” she sighed. “I was lucky. My parents let me turn my education into a weird overseas adventure, knowing all I had to do was marry well out of school and, by chance, it ended up paying off in useful knowledge. When you’ve been around the world and seen all different kinds of lies, it gets easier to see through them. I don’t fault you for being misinformed.”

“You don’t?”

“My father chose you over anyone else because he thought that I wouldn’t marry a stupid man. And he was right.” She looked up, meeting Takeru’s eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

Takeru’s frown had not faded. “I punished Mamoru for questioning the Empire,” he said after a long moment and Misaki paused. Was that what was bothering him?

“You demanded that he stand by his words, think about what came out of his mouth,” she said. “I don’t think you were wrong to do that.”

“But I was wrong about the Empire. I understand why you wouldn’t trust me—”

“I do trust you,” Misaki insisted. “Now, stand by your words, Matsuda Takeru. Protect us.”

Misaki was not invited to the meeting between Takeru and the military representatives from the capital. However, as the wife of the new Matsuda patriarch, she was allowed in the room to serve the men their tea.

The Kaigenese military officials did most of the talking while the jaseli translator murmured quietly to the Yammanka officials, keeping them abreast of the conversation. Takeru, for the most part, was expected to simply listen and agree. As Misaki came in to pour the second round of tea, he did manage to find space in the conversation to ask Takayubi’s most pressing question:

“When can we expect aid?”

“When the Emperor has the men available,” General Chun said. It wasn’t a real answer. “I know you wouldn’t understand this, being a civilian and not a true military man, but the Emperor cannot spare troops to distribute food and supplies when they are busy protecting his provinces from foreign invaders.”

“Respectfully, General, the Emperor’s troops didn’t protect this province,” Takeru said. “We did.”

It had probably been the wrong thing to say, but Misaki found herself struggling not to smile. She wondered if Takeru was aware that he had never been more attractive. It had never properly occurred to her before that moment, but perhaps the thing she found most attractive in men had never been power. It had never been danger. It was bravery. And her husband, facing these liars in a language that was not his own, was braver than any Matsuda facing an army on the battlefield.

Her eyes flicked to the other side of the table and she couldn’t help feeling a surge of satisfaction at the uncomfortable looks on the officials’ faces. General Chun, who had done the best job maintaining his composure, leaned forward and folded his hands on the table before him, his eyes narrowed.

“I will have you know that the Kaigenese military is as strong as it has ever been and more than competent to protect the Empire. While the attacks were not made public to avoid unrest, several military bases were targeted by the Ranganese.”

“Oh?” Takeru raised his eyebrows and proved himself a flawlessly smooth liar when he said, “I wasn’t aware.”

“Yes. At all these military strongholds, the Ranganese and their tornadoes were decisively repelled with minimal casualties. I know this must seem incomprehensible when you and your fellow civilians struggled so much against the Ranganese here, but this is why the military is here to protect you.”

As Jali Tirama translated for the Yammanka representatives, Misaki noticed Gesseke glance nervously at her and then at Takeru. He was probably wondering if she had violated their agreement and passed the truth on to her husband. Fortunately for everyone, Takeru took General Chun’s lies in stride.

“I see. It seems I have spoken out of turn then. I apologize.” Takeru’s monotone was so blandly sincere that the general seemed to be having trouble deciding if he was being mocked or not.

Takeru might have called the general’s lie, even without the intel Misaki had collected from their naïve jaseli friend. A theonite like Takeru could sense another’s power and skill, and none of them were on his level—or Misaki’s for that matter. A dragon knew when he was looking at worms and snakes. These were men who looked very good in their uniforms but would buckle before real jiya. They wore divine power on their clothing but carried none inside them. These men were empty.

“I want to make something clear to you, Matsuda. Your family name, whatever power you think it holds in this area, means nothing to the Empire. You and your family valued citizens of the Empire—no more, no less. Do we understand each other?”

Takeru stared at the table before him. His jiya had gone still, completely calm. When it’s too much to be a man, I become the mountain. Dread twisted Misaki’s stomach. Takeru had only two choices: he could cave and bow beneath this man’s heel, or he could kill every man in the room. Either way, Takayubi was doomed. Either way, he failed.

“Matsuda.” General Chun prompted. “Do we understand each other?”

Takeru lifted his head. His voice was more than calm when he spoke again. It was strong. “Perfectly.”

The general smiled. “Excellent.”

“I do have one more request,” Takeru said, “if I may.”

General Chun nodded for him to continue.

“Please tell the Emperor not to provide any aid to Takayubi—now or at any time in the future.”

The military men exchanged confused glances. “Excuse me?”

“If the Empire’s troops are in the process of fighting a secret war, I would never want them to waste their efforts where they are not needed.”

“But, Matsuda,” Governor Lo cut in, looking stunned. “This village has been almost completely destroyed. Without government aid—”

“We will survive, Governor,” Takeru said, “as we have through hundreds of wars in the past. As General Chun says, we are loyal citizens of the Empire. We could never in good conscience take resources from the Imperial army when we are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.”

“You seem awfully confident,” Colonel Song said with a disdainful frown.

“We are warriors here, not beggars, and we will be back on our feet by the next time you come. In fact, I urge you to visit again, when you have the time. Speaking of which, I want to apologize again for the lacking accommodations. They will be up to our high standards on your return.”

“Well...” General Chun hesitated, looking suspicious but didn’t seem to find anything wrong with Takeru’s words. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. We will have to return to install a new mayor.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Sorry?”

“I am not just the successor to the Matsuda line after my brother. I also spent years serving in the late mayor’s office, budgeting and planning projects like the construction of the info-com towers that allowed us to contact the capital so quickly during the attack. If you were to dig through the wreckage of the mayor’s office right now, you would find my handwriting on every piece of important paperwork dating back six years.”

“Oh...”

“Of course, if the Emperor feels the need to install his own mayor, I wouldn’t think of objecting. I am, however, quite confident that I can run this village to his satisfaction. If on your return, you can find any fault with my leadership, I will happily step down in favor of a candidate of your choosing.”

“You really think that you can put this village back together?” Colonel Song sneered.

Takeru looked calmly into Colonel Song’s eyes. “I’ve promised that I will.”

“And you believe yourself qualified to deliver on those promises?”

“I explained my qualifications—”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Koro Matsuda, Koro Song,” General Kende said in Yammaninke. It was the first time the imposing tajaka had spoken. His jaseli was quicker off the mark than Chou, smoothly translating the words to Kaigengua.

“I’m confused,” General Kende addressed General Chun and Colonel Song. “You were just complaining that you lack the resources and manpower to offer these people aid. I like this man.” He pointed to Takeru. “He seems like a competent person. If he is confident that he can look after his village, why not let him do it?”

They argued for a while, but the Yammanka General and his jaseli strangely seemed to hold more power in the situation than any of the Kaigenese. It was a disturbing sign of weakness on the Empire’s part. Evidently, the Kaigenese Empire had deteriorated to a point where it was so much weaker than its hostile neighbor that Yamma was now calling all the shots. It made Misaki doubly glad that she had taken the time to teach Takeru the Yammanka handshake. A Yammanka could almost always be relied on to recognize and respect the most powerful theonite in the room.

Before Misaki could observe any more, Colonel Song dismissed her to go get more tea. When she returned with a fresh pot, the conversation had turned to the matter of Takayubi’s discretion. This was all old news: no one was to speak of the attack, inside or outside their homes, the mass grave would not be marked in any way.

It was dark by the time the Matsudas were finally dismissed from their own home—though Misaki, of course, would have to be back early in the morning to serve the oppressors a nice breakfast.

Takeru did not speak as they made their way back to the Mizumaki house. They had needed those supplies, but Takeru had done everything he could. Had he pushed harder, the general would simply have ground the Empire’s heel down harder in kind, humiliating him. If he had raised his voice or his jiya, or done anything that could be construed as a threat, he may well have doomed himself and what remained of his family. He had kept Takayubi safe, and saved what little face he could in the process. It was the best anyone could have done.

Walking a respectful pace behind her husband, Misaki peered up at him in the moonlight. The night was clear, white light illuminating his face well enough for Misaki to see that he was not angry. She might have thought that he was away in his meditative state, avoiding all emotion, except that his brows were pinched together just slightly. He was thinking.

“Is everything alright?” she asked softly.

“It will be,” he said, “once I have the chance to write up a plan.”

“A plan?”

“I can make one now,” Takeru said, “now that I’m not so blind.”

A few moments passed and he fell back two steps so that he and Misaki were walking side by side. Misaki had spent so many years pining after sun and firelight. She hadn’t looked closely enough to see that Takeru had his own light about him. Subtle but clear. Something of the moonlit snow that seemed to live in his skin.

“This village no longer has a good theonite academy,” he said. “Even in the unlikely event that the government has a change of heart in the coming years and helps us restore Kumono Academy in some form, it will not be the same without all the instructors we have lost.”

“Mmm,” Misaki agreed politely.

“When Hiroshi is old enough, he will go to your Daybreak Academy in Carytha. If he does well there, I think perhaps all three boys should go.”

Misaki’s mouth had fallen open. “Are you serious, Takeru-sama?”

“I won’t raise another generation as blind as my own.”

Because it was nighttime and no one was around to see, Misaki reached out and found her husband’s sword-calloused fingers. They had been married fifteen years. It was the first time they had ever held hands.