When they finally reached the top of the cliff, Yuki could see, spread out before her eyes, the fabled city of Kei. In many ways, it resembled those legendary cities of the ancient Continent remembered only in paintings and texts, and from which many of the Islands’ traditions had their origin. Between rolling hills and rising peaks, there were houses of brilliant wood, intricately placed thatched roofs, and terraced rice paddies. Great bonsai trees dotted the landscape and seemed as old as the mountains themselves. A serpentine path weaved through the city towards the castle in the distance. Tall cumulus clouds hovered overhead, and though they loomed over them like giants, they did not seem as far away as usual. Kei did not teem with people like the New Capital, but the people visible to her seemed to move with hearty momentum. There was also a feeling of serenity that only the mountains could bring and a crisp, healthy smell to the air. It reminded her in many ways of her hometown of Kokoro, though on a much larger scale.

  “Come,” the youthful guard commanded, not giving her much time to take in the sights. Instead of heading towards the castle oft in the distance, they took the opposite route, likely towards the palace of the daimyo.

  “Is this rat yours?” the lead guard asked after a few moments, not bothering to face Yukiana directly.

  “It is a tanuki, and yes, it is mine,” she answered hotly.

  “You will not be allowed to bring it with you if you are permitted an audience.”

  Yuki looked down at her teacher who appeared gravely insulted by being called a rat. “So be it,” she answered. “But I shall have an audience, you will see.”

  The youth grunted and pushed forward at an even faster pace so that Yuki had to stride at just under a jog to keep up with him. They traveled for several minutes, keeping close to the edge of the gorge until they came to an estate that sat upon a portion of the cliff that projected out and overhung the river below. It was not walled or gated, for it did not need to be, as it was protected on three sides by the cliff’s edge.

  This must be the daimyo’s palace, for not only were great banners of the Tora clan’s sigil hanging from the entryway, but it claimed marvelous craftsmanship, with a curved wooden roof held up by thick pillars that were as thick as a sumo wrestler. The door guards anticipated them and spoke to their escort in hushed voices. Meanwhile, an argument seemed to be happening within, and Yuki did not have to strain her ears to catch what was being said. Indeed, she could hear the row from their approach, and it only grew clearer the closer that she came. The guards were tense and rigid, and a chill wind cut through the mountain air.

  Yuki recognized one of the voices immediately, though it sounded more strained than she had remembered it to be.

  “But you must consider the oath!” Sōichirō demanded. “The oath of my father is passed on to me. By breaking it, we go against the will of the Shogun!”

  This was followed by a deeper, gruff voice, which seemed just on the edge of maintaining the minimum conditions of polite protocol. “My lord, it matters not! You cannot show weakness to the Ryu, especially now. If they move against us, we must be prepared to respond. The Shogun has nothing to do with us. And they will move against us, that I can nearly guarantee.”

  “But that is exactly what the others desire, I expect. Now that the Prime Consort has come to power, all she needs is a pretext to send her army here, and both our clans will be doomed. We cannot withstand the might of the Shogun’s forces at this time.”

  “As your general and elder counselor,” the voice retorted, putting special emphasis on the word, elder, “It is my duty to remind you that our houses have been at war for nearly four generations. The Ryu…”

  “Do you think that I have forgotten this? It has been my entire life, Odori! The War of the Tigers and Dragons has been told to me since I was but a baby. I saw my father return with that cruel scar across his face when I was only a boy. I know what my responsibility is, but I cannot rush into this blind. We must wait for as long as possible. Then we shall see what to do.”

  “But your father! He now lies out on that beach unburied because of that…that…”

  Yuki could tell the fury in this elder man’s voice was nearly boiling over. Fortunately, the conversation was interrupted by one of the guards, who had brought Yuki’s plea to the young daimyo.

  There was a sudden silence, followed by hushed whispers. This was followed by a long pause, and then rapid footsteps towards the entrance.

  A moment later, atop the wooden steps of his palace, Tora Sōichirō peered out breathlessly. “Yuki-chan?” he said, gazing at her with bewilderment. “Is that really you?”

  Yuki bowed low and kept herself down for some time, hesitant to meet his gaze. When she finally rose, however, a smile came to her face naturally, for behind the lines of stress upon his face, it was the same Tora Sōichirō that she knew back in the New Capital.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You once offered me respite in your home city,” she forced herself to say. “I pray that you would fulfill that promise and consider me in your debt.”

  The man gaped at her, clearly disbelieving his eyes. After a few moments, he collected himself and nearly broke out in laughter. “Yuki! Why, it is you! How did you…what did you…well…you must come inside! Of course, you are welcome! Come in!”

  The guards hastily moved out of her path and Yukiana shot a glance at the young guard who had been so impertinent earlier. He now stood stone-faced before the first step of the building.

  “Stay with Yoko-san,” she whispered to Tanuki, who gave her a look of mild annoyance before settling beside the old seafarer. “I should not be long.”

  “Guards, if this is this young woman’s companion, please accommodate him well. Food, drink, and a nice futon if he needs it,” Tora ordered. “Welcome to Kei, good sir, and if you assisted this woman in any way, you shall be rewarded for it.”

  Yoko bowed formally and thanked the daimyo, while Yukiana was brought up the steps by Sōichirō himself, taking her hand in his.

  “I cannot believe that you have come, but how happy I am to see you! Are you weary? Are you hurt?” he asked, glancing at the patch over her left eye.

  “I am fine,” she answered with a smile. “I apologize for coming to you, but I had nowhere else to go.”

  “Never! Never apologize to me again. Indeed, I am glad that you have come. It unburdens my heart a great deal. I was so worried about you when you disappeared from the district. I sought you everywhere and would have never ceased searching, but then I was required to leave the city prematurely, with little time to prepare. It felt awful having not found out your whereabouts, or your condition. And now, one evil after another has befallen me, so that to my shame I have not been able to follow through. Please forgive me, I beg of you. Your coming has been the first good sign since…”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Yukiana said honestly. “Where I was, not even you could have helped me. Your father,” she then said somberly, as they walked down the central hallway to the room furthest back. “He is gone?”

  Tora looked grieved and nodded slowly. “I am the Tora daimyo now.” He looked at her with grave concern, but at that time they reached the far meeting chamber and were greeted by a tall, robust, but white-haired man. He stood as they both entered the room and did not hide his displeasure. He was clearly still agitated by the previous conversation with his young lord and was hoping for it to continue.

  “This is Odori-san,” Sōichirō explained. “My chief general.”

  “Your only general,” Odori replied grimly. “And whom may this be?” His face showed clear annoyance, for he knew that it was likely that the appearance of this woman would mean a pause in their negotiations.

  “Odori-san, this is Yuki-chan, a friend of mine from the New Capital.”

  Odori bowed formally but hardly blinked.

  “She will be staying with us for the time being, perhaps permanently. Please be so kind as to arrange her a residence.”

  Odori stiffened. “And about before…”

  Sōichirō shrugged, and sat down at the table, his back to the cliff’s edge. “That is enough for now. We shall continue our conversation at another time.”

  Odori did his best to hide his disdain, but his foul disposition was nearly palpable. “As you say, my lord.” He pivoted sharply and strode hastily out of the room, glaring at the young woman as he went.

  When he was finally gone, Tora hunched forward and rubbed his forehead and eyes with his fingers. “Of all the generals Father had to leave behind, it had to be him.”

  Yukiana came beside him and knelt. “You seem greatly distressed,” she observed, not knowing what else to say.

  “Distressed?” the daimyo groaned, looking up at her with a painful stare. “It is far beyond that. My father is dead, and now I must lead this clan, which is on the brink of destruction. Rumors have come back that he was attacked by the Ryu, indeed the whole battle with the barbarians seems like it was a pretext for murder. Our men were slaughtered, not one has returned from the battle. Most of the people within my realm are calling for vengeance, and though my heart desires it as well, I feel uneasy, as if we are missing something.

  Odori has fought in countless battles with the Ryu, and naturally advocates for war. He claims that I may be overthrown from within if we do not march right away. I wonder, does he refer to himself? And now I have word that the Shogun is dead, which could be the very end of us if I am not careful. I barely had time to plan for any of this, and I don’t know what to do.” Tora’s head seemed to fall again, and he appeared like a withered tree, a far cry from his once-spirited self. “I am sorry,” he said after a few moments. “Enough of me, you seem as if you have come through many hardships to be here, I should be asking you what happened.”

  Yukiana was unnerved by this news, especially the detail concerning the death of the Shogun, but she set it aside for the present moment. “I will be able to tell it all in time, but it is a long and miserable tale. Perhaps you could benefit from some lighter conversation like we used to have. What of the lover? Were you able to finally win her heart?”

  She looked at him expectantly, but his sudden change and reaction hit her like a shock. His eyes widened, and his breaths quickened. He seemed physically pained upon recalling that memory, almost mortally, so that his fists tightened so hard that she thought they would burst.

  “She…” he managed to say, though it sounded like a curse.

  “What is wrong? I did not mean to…” Yuki began to apologize.

  Sōichirō glared at Yuki with brooding eyes. “I never told you the name of that girl, Yuki-chan, so I cannot blame you for asking. But never speak of it again.”

  She was startled, almost afraid of this man, which had never happened since the night that they first met.

  “But who? Who could it be?” she whispered, unable to control herself.

  Tora closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh. “Ryu. Her name is Ryu Kurea. She is the daughter of the Ryu daimyo, and now, she is the leader of that clan. She is my enemy.”

  Yuki could not contain her surprise and her eyes widened.

  All at once, loud voices and footsteps could be heard thundering down the corridor. Both Tora and Yuki rose instinctively. One of the guards ran into the room, his eyes filled with terror.

  “My lord!” he cried. “We have been attacked! The Ryu! They have come!’