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Prologue I: The Blow

Yanagi watched terrible screams shake Yukimura’s thin, resolute shoulders. A great sucking force wrenched vitality through the pores of Yanagi’s skin. The castle floor was surely cold, but he could not feel it. He could not feel anything.

Black crawled from the corners of his view, dribbles of ink blotting away the flashes of life parading before his eyes.

Three boys sat on the window of the keep’s highest chamber as hangdog troops marched their yellow-gold flag through the city in dirty tatters. Victory belonged to the dissenters, who dared and succeeded in cessation from the formerly United Rikkai.

Yukimura’s dead white knuckles bit the windowsill; the display below rubbed dirt in the loss of his birthright.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Sanada said, when he should have remained quiet. The infant princess had been promised to a newly dubbed prince of a nothing line to forge some peace.

The wind tossed Yukimura’s dark hair on the wind. Yanagi put his hand on his prince’s. “We’re going to win,” Yukimura said. “When I’m King. Or I shall not be King at all.”

Yukimura turned his head back and years flipped by like barely skimmed pages, the years that they spent fulfilling that solemn promise of unification, carrying the flag of United Rikkai as far as their horses could march.

That same promise required years of dank healing rooms. He knew the fierce strength of Yukimura’s grip. Healers worked their magic to draw disease from his body like poison from a wound. They did so over and over again, each attempt less successful than the last.

Even so, Yukimura believed it was his destiny to unite the countries that had once been United Rikkai.

Those memories launched him up into the moment of Yukimura’s victorious grimace as the dragon-born Echizen Ryoma of Seigaku, pleased or intrigued by the Prince’s warmongering, consumed him with flames hotter than anything. The fire licking at Yukimura’s skin forged him anew just as Yukimura himself had recreated his nation. That very deed won him the terrible grin of the dragon-born Echizen Ryoma, who saw a worthy opponent to last as long as his own blessed life. Playing witness to his friend’s death and rebirth gave him a strange thrill made stranger still in that he remembered with the last moments of his consciousness.

That final memory flickered and waned before his eyes until Yukimura’s great and terrible power pulled the colors from his life, leaving him with nothing at all.

—

Prologue II: Three Years Prior

“Tezuka, an emissary from the Tarragon monks to the south seeks audience with you.”

“Thank you, Fuji,” Tezuka inclined his head. The King assumed that the message was from Oishi. His childhood friend had chosen to serve their shared desire for peace by seeking wisdom from the ancient order dedicated to studying dragon-lore and restoring the balance of nature. “Send them in. No need take more time from your wedding preparations on my behalf.”

To that, Fuji smiled and bowed so slightly that it might be considered an insult from any other subject. Tezuka reminded himself to either see to it that Tachibana was in charge of the menu or to come to the festivities with a full stomach.

The enormous doors of the keep opened. As he anticipated, Kawamura, a warrior monk, entered with a long, tubular case that could only be carrying one of Oishi’s long missives. However, he had not expected the slip of a girl standing next to him.

~
Dear Tezuka,

I hope this finds you well. I did not expect to be writing you under these circumstances.

Brother Kikumaru and I had a strange visitor last night. An older woman, shrouded in handsome robes, came to us with a young girl. She came to receive her final rites and, with her death imminent, extracted our promise to look after her granddaughter.

Tezuka – that woman was Ryuuzaki Sumire: the closest and most powerful descendant of the Sumire, last of the dragons! They were followed here. I write this quickly as Kawamura readies the horses.

Ryuuzaki is dead. You must protect her granddaughter Sakuno. We’re not sure, but we think that she might have something to do with the last page of the Great Book, handed down to us monks by the dragons.

Hear my last — for in this tale
Neither man nor immortal can prevail
One hero and one conclusive gift
Destroy the ancient power rift
His child Greed consumes Eternal Fire
And all his race that name acquire
With no flame to warm the frigid earth
No effort can reap infertile turf
But from the paralyzed one King will rise
With righteous anger he unites and dies
Though Princely flame will forge anew
The tragedy of Greed it etches too
The Cicada will trip the Dragon on its shell
And in his name a relic quell
That which wrought a Kingdom’s despair
A burden that only Fortune can bear
And She in one cauterizing blow decide
If those born in flame will live or die

The men and women of my order have spent many years discerning these words. I’m sure that you can tell that some of this has come to pass.

You know the legend. The first four lines are about Echizen Nanjirou’s battle with the sorcerer Dread Smith. Because he wielded magic — energy from lives forcibly taken – with dragon relics, neither man nor dragon could take him down. Many men and very nearly all of the dragons died attempting to do so. The first Sumire, last of the dragons, scouted out Nanjirou and used her heart’s fire to re-forge him with her strength, gifting humans with the first dragon-born to avenge her race.

Nanjirou was…er…fruitful and multiplied. Dragon-born married mostly into royal and noble families across the continent. Slowly, there were more and more people with dragon-like strength. And those dragon-born could use their heart’s fire to make even more like them, dragon-forged. Or they could destroy a town or something. Though dragon-born could only use heart’s fire once, and dragon-forged not at all, the gap between the strength of humans and the strength of dragons slowly started to fill in.

But not everyone can be trusted with power. Eager to prove himself stronger than a dragon, the dragon-born Sasabe slew Sumire, his own progenitor, in the ultimate act of greed. Without the heat of Sumire’s flame over her home, the Great Falls, the river that fed into all of the Kingdoms froze over. The lands became hard and unworkable. The people starved and the dragon-born inherited the flaw of their ancestor from generation to generation.

Now that all happened hundreds of years ago, but we think that Yukimura of Rikkai might be the uniting King and our Echizen the “Princely flame” that made him dragon-forged. If that’s true…the third part of the prophecy will be decided in our lifetime.

The strength of dragons had always played a part in history. Now, that strength, fragmented into dozens of humans, must unite for the next part to unfold. I think every dragon-born, with their heart’s fire, has the power to make that choice: to raise the world up or burn it until there’s nothing left to fight for.

That being said, I leave Ryuuzaki Sakuno to your care. Sumire said that her dragon-born strength blessed her with the most extraordinary luck. So, I’m sure that she and Kawamura made it back safely (please confirm that you received this anyway!!). Whether she’s under our protection or becomes our protection remains to be seen.

Yours in peace and strife,
Oishi Syuuichirou
~

Tezuka closed his eyes for a moment to suppress his annoyance. Only Oishi would try to lecture him, even from afar. Nonetheless, the girl didn’t deserve his ire.

“Come with me, Ryuuzaki-san,” he stood from his throne. “Your clothes are wet from travel. I’m sure something of Princess An’s will fit you.”

—

Part 1: The Fall

For an indeterminate amount of time, Yanagi sat within his own consciousness, unable to move or open his eyes. He listened to Kirihara berate the court physician, cursing him up and down with enough variation to make him wonder if he had underestimated the young warrior’s lexicon.

“Be silent,” Yukimura said to Kirihara.

“This is your fault,” a resounding crash followed by many smaller dings. Kirihara must have kicked over a cart. “Had I not used my heartfire to defeat Fudomine, Yanagi would be just fine right now.”

“It’s no fault of mine that you were unable to defeat Tachibana without that particular gift,” Yukimura’s retort batted Kirihara’s bellowing voice away like a fly. “Your devil mode needs work.”

Kirihara roared with fury. “But this was your fault. Krauser had nothing to do with anything. Nagoya had nothing to do with ANYTHING!”

“That’s enough, Akaya,” Sanada stepped in, both verbally and physically judging by his footsteps. Another pair of boots walked farther away from the room.

“Mada mada dane,” sounded the unimpressed King’s Consort, Echizen Ryoma. That was just fine. Yanagi didn’t need more than one feisty, warlike brat by his bedside. Kirihara caused more than enough trouble by himself.

As if on cue, Kirihara graduated from kicking objects to throwing them. Yanagi tried to open his eyes again, to no avail. But he didn’t need to open them to know when Kirihara ran out of medical supplies and began to push his books around.

His eyes wouldn’t open, but his voice wasn’t broken, merely scratchy from disuse. “Those books are likely older than you grandfather and more valuable than your life, I’ll thank you to cease your tantrum.”

Kirihara paused, more shocked than offended.

Sure, quiet, yet deceptively heavy footsteps approached his right side. Yanagi wasn’t surprised to hear Yukimura, voice thick with all of the regret he could not speak. “My friend,” he said simply. This time, Yukimura put his hand over Yanagi’s. “I’m so glad you’ve returned to us.” Yanagi felt the comforting weight of Sanada’s shadow on his left.

Yanagi sounded his agreement. “I rather doubted that I would.”

Yukimura thumbed his friend’s knuckle and released him, lest anyone see him so emotional. “Does the light hurt your eyes? I will see to it that the room is dimmed.”

With a simple tilt to the head, Yanagi said, “Even if you did, I could not open them. Perhaps in time.”

Doubtful. Neither of them wished to express it.

Kirihara’s brain seemed to catch up. The wild youth all but threw himself onto Yanagi’s bed. Despite the scolding Sanada rained on Kirihara, Yanagi felt some comfort from the bodily warmth and outburst of affection. “You’re okay,” Kirihara said, alto heavy with both relief and guilt. Yanagi imagined that Kirihara fantasized about rescuing him by the power of his lizard breath. Though he wasn’t quite okay, the feel of the wild curls between his fingers almost made it so.

“He will be,” Yukimura said, words as firm as his footsteps. He was still the King that Yanagi would lay down his life for.

“No thanks to you,” Kirihara grumbled to the bedspread. The counselor’s long fingers curled tightly in his locks, warning silence.

The King saw to it that Yanagi received water and treatment before sitting by his side to pry further. “How much do you remember about the Battle of Nagoya?”

“Our attack plan was betrayed. When we arrived to the river, the bridge was cut. We were given no choice but to fall into their strategy, barricading ourselves in the castle-”

The screams. The terrible screams that continued until the victims lost the ability to do so.

“Go on,” Yukimura urged him.

Yukimura’s scream had been the most terrible of all of them, though the King need not so much as make a sound to strip a man of all sensibility.

“Our guard was outnumbered. We both understood that the only way to live another day was for you to use your power.”

The mighty yips ¬¬— the King’s dragon consort liked to comment with heavy sarcasm.

“Did we have any survivors?”

“Most of ours died before that. And then just a few of those that fell to Yukimura’s power lived. …A couple are up and about, but most of them are…” Kirihara trailed off. Unconscious, like Yanagi had been. There was no telling how the effects of Yukimura’s power at full blast might manifest. “But they had no survivors after I was through with them. I put Krauser’s head on a spear in our King’s garden.”

Yukimura hummed approvingly. “It should keep the birds from my sunflowers.”

“Is there anything that I can do?” Kirihara said, as earnest as he had been ruthless just a few seconds before. “To be of comfort to you? Anything.”

Yanagi smoothed locks under his fingers. “I would have you read me all court accounts of everything that occurred while I slept, both official and unofficial.”

Kirihara groaned just considering the duty, but reluctantly did as requested. Yukimura excused himself to a long day at court.

—

“Report,” Sanada said, staring down the guards as his own words bounced around the throne room. Yukimura watched just as intently at his side.

“I don’t bring good news, Commander,” Kuwahara said, standing with Marui before his kneeling regiment.

Sanada nodded, willing the castle’s defense to speak.

Kuwahara continued, “The two men you returned to me, the ones who fought with our King in the Battle of Nagoya. They had been fit two days ago, ready to start building stamina again. The first day they did half of basic training with the new recruits.” It was impressive, considering their previously comatose state. “The second day, they were only able to spar with the lightest blades. I thought them tired. But today they were barely able to put on their armor.”

Urayama, the court scribe, scribbled furiously to keep up with Kuwahara’s account. Marui watched with open hunger as his ice cream swirl hair bobbed over the desk. Kuwahara elbowed him.

“And now,” Sanada asked, pulling the attention of both of his guards.

“We brought them to the healer, of course,” Marui continued where his partner left off. “One of them, Ushiro, collapsed on the way there. Just stopped breathing. And the other, Shinya. He’s in pretty bad shape. Paralyzed. It’s not good and getting worse fast.”

This time, Yukimura spoke. “I want a full statement from Shinya, everything you can get out of him.”

Everything they could get out of him before it was too late.

Kuwahara and Marui bowed. Their regiment bowed yet lower, then stood to march in file from the King’s receiving room.

“He’s going to be all right,” Yukimura wanted so badly to be sure. “The three of us are going to win.”

For the first time in Sanada’s memory, Yukimura’s voice shook. They had a purpose again in fighting for Yanagi, but what were they fighting against?

—

“I thought that I might find you here,” Fuji entered the greenhouse and stood behind Yukimura.

“You thought correctly,” he favored his flowers with water. They only needed his attentions and the right environment to flourish; he couldn’t say the same for his hard worn kingdom.

Fuji sat on the bench, quite unperturbed by the severed head just behind it. If anything, he appreciated the backdrop of the corpse’s gaping maw. “Kippei and I appreciate your hospitality. We know that this is a difficult time for you.”

Yukimura shook his head. “I would not cancel the progressing peace talks with Seigaku for anything. Even if I tried, Tezuka would show up anyway.”

Fuji chuckled, but did not deny it. His Lord could be rather single-minded. “It’s unfortunate about the Counselor Yanagi. I understand that you’ve used all of the heartfire at your disposal.”

“For the moment,” he answered neutrally.

“The kingdom of Hyoutei is not very far away. I hear that jolly King Atobe hasn’t burned out his fire. Yet.”

Yukimura continued to garden. “Oh?”

Fuji hummed and leaned back, letting the warm sun dance over his eyelids. “I went to Hyoutei myself just after the thaw. Those western borders of his suffered terribly this winter, especially so close to the Great Falls. You wouldn’t believe the state of that wall. I’m sure it’s being rebuilt as we speak.”

And therefore weak.

Though his hands stilled, Yukimura did not turn around to regard Fuji. “I understand that your business in Hyoutei was to exchange hostages. An insurance of peace…Princess Tachibana for an army captain. Shishido-kun, if I’m not mistaken.” Yukimura was rarely mistaken.

“Correct,” Fuji’s smile grew. “I’m quite confident that she will remain unharmed.”

“I should hope so,” Yukimura said pleasantly, turning to meet that grin with one of his own. “I had the pleasure of her acquaintance.” When his young Lieutenant nearly killed Fuji’s husband.

“She’s a sweet girl, very observant, and clever enough to stave off Keigo,” and sure to have a great wealth of information from that experience.

Yukimura doubted that the girl was in any real danger from the King of Hyoutei, but favored the comment with a hum. “Come here, Syusuke. I’d like to show you how well my flowers have come up with this fertilizer that Renji has concocted.”

“I would be delighted.”

Kirihara’s fist tightened on the scrolls that he had been sent to fetch for Yanagi. The King of Hyoutei would bow to him. Bow to him and save Yanagi if it were the last thing Kirihara accomplished.

—

Kirihara never returned the scrolls to Yanagi’s room. Instead, he barreled up a narrow stairwell to an office sparsely decorated with weaponry and heavily hung with maps and calligraphy. Last time he had been here, he was listening to Yanagi’s briefing on Nagoya. The colored pins, indicative of rank, were still pushed into the map where Yanagi left them.

Jealousy built up in Kirihara. He couldn’t save Yanagi directly. But if they needed that Hyoutei bastard, he would drag that peacock forcefully from his icy keep and deliver him before Yanagi on a silver platter.

“Sanada!” he called. On receiving no answer, he rummaged through the piles of maps to discern the sorting system. His tongue popped from the corner of his mouth as he pulled out drawers and searched organizers for a map of western Hyoutei. Certainly between Sanada and Yanagi, they had one.

“Akaya!” Sanada shouted, regarding the mess the young captain made of his office. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Kirihara jumped, sending scrolls and ink flying with the mighty flap of his flail. “Sanada — Commander. I’m…”

Sanada stepped forward to loom over Kirihara from the other side of his desk.

The intimidated technique solidified rather than frazzled Kirihara. “I’m looking for a map of western Hyoutei, commander.”

“And why would that be.”

Kirihara puffed out his chest. “My men and I are going to raid it.”

Sanada’s thick eyebrows rose to the center of his broad forehead.

“I overheard the King talking to Fuji in the gardens. He…” Kirihara didn’t need to explain the whole thing. “King Atobe’s heartfire is Yanagi’s best chance. I’m going to pound on the doors of his nation until he lets us in and gives us what he wants.”

“And Yukimura agreed to this?”

“He didn’t…disagree. Do you?”

Sanada remained silent. He walked around the desk and shoved Kirihara aside to take his rightful seat. “Hyoutei isn’t Fudomine, you realize. They have a peace treaty, but that doesn’t mean their armies are on an equal level.”

The last thing Sanada wanted was a special delivery parcel from Hyoutei, Kirihara’s head in a basket of fruit.

Kirihara deflated a little. “I know that. I just…I have to do this. You don’t understand.”

Sanada locked eyes with Kirihara for a stern, terrifying moment. Then, he reached into his desk and unraveled a map of Hyoutei’s kingdom. “Don’t presume that you understand either.”

Kirihara looked from the map to Sanada, eyes widening with eagerness. “…Sanada-san…”

“Prepare your army. Don't move until I give my command. I will send summons to Hyoutei first,” which would obviously be refused.

“Yes!”

“And one more thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t lose.”

The devil reflected back from Kirihara’s eyes. “Aye.”

—

“The bridge has been cut!”

The sea of murmurs from below ebbed and flowed, but retained full pressure beating down on him.

“My lord!”

“My lord?”

“What shall we do my lord?”

“Seiichi.”

Yukimura turned to Yanagi, who called his name. He gathered his courage, letting it flow behind him like a wild train as he made for the half-crumbled outpost of a keep.

Yanagi rode at his side, straight, shoulder-length hair seeming to move in slow motion with the horse. Neither of them needed to say that it was a trap. They both knew they had been betrayed. The United Rikkai had been betrayed.

The next moments flash forward and back, replaying every death, every rally, every mortal scream until he felt sick to his stomach. He watched his men die, his dream smeared, and the very heart of him strangled and choked.

“Seiichi,” Yanagi called to him, eyes wide open.

As usual, Yanagi was right. They had no choice but mutually assured destruction.

Yukimura reared his head back and exploded, indiscriminately robbing life from both friend and foe.

With his throat hurt from screaming, he realized that he was now awake. Sticky with sweat and chest heaving, he turned to Ryoma.

“You woke me up,” he accused, bite quite removed by the hands smoothing damp hair from his forehead. Nonetheless, Yukimura did not favor this with a response. He shoved the dragon-born on his side and spooned up behind him, arms wrapped around his neck. Unalarmed, Ryoma asked, “The Battle of Nagoya?”

Yukimura hummed his confirmation against Ryoma’s hair.

Ryoma leaned back against him and turned to nip at his arm, wordlessly demanding that he speak.

“So many dead, even more dying. When I get my hands on that traitor…”

“Surely they’ve been smuggled from Rikkai by now. You knew that this campaign was unpopular. Asking for too much after you already united the country.”

Ryoma’s King had certainly been against it, but not enough to go to war over it.

“Do you think that one of Seigaku’s delegation warned them of the attack’s specifics?”

Ryoma’s silence was pensive, not guilty. “Not likely,” he conceded. Not impossible, but subtle wasn’t Seigaku’s style.

Yukimura bit Ryoma’s ear and slid his hands farther down his body. “Unhelpful. You realize this is all your fault for setting me on fire in the first place.”

Squirming ticklishly, Ryoma pushed at Yukimura’s hands and parried back, “You were pathetic when I found you. ‘Meh, I’m Yukimura, Unifier of Broken Nations. I just beat seven armies at the same time but now I’m too sick to stand, woe is me.’”

“The only pathetic thing is that voice of yours. Do I really have to deal with it for eternity?”

“If only I had a second fire so I could destroy you this time.”

“Oh,” a note of a smile entered Yukimura’s voice. “You’re going to destroy me now?”

Ryoma turned in Yukimura’s arms and shoved him on his back. “Nah. I went through the trouble of keeping you alive. I wanted to fight you again and again, and I’m going to do just that.”

Yukimura smirked and sat up to meet Ryoma as he straddled him. “What kind of sick freak challenges a King to a duel moments after he’s finished a civil war?”

“You looked like you were having fun,” Ryoma stole Yukimura’s lips. “I never did like to just watch.” And like most other things stolen by dragons, they were never recovered.

—

A man in a billowing purple cape stood strong against the howling wind and snow. He stared from his perch out toward the iced over river and the majestic frozen waterfall that loomed threateningly above it. When he held a finger to his nose that gaze skated on ice and pushed out beyond the mountains to pierce country borders and peruse their deepest secrets as a matter of entertainment.

Oshitari knew that the dragon-born Atobe could use his insight just as well from his bedchamber. The young King had a flare for the dramatic.

“Are you spying on King Aoi and Queen Yukimura? I heard they had a girl.”

“Hardly.”

“Quite rude, my King. Just because the babe is not yet a woman,” he clasped his hand over his chest.

“Oh shut up, we have a pressing matter.”

“Besides your outfit for dinner with Princess An Tonight?”

“Yes, besides…” Atobe narrowed his eyes on the counselor. “What is the problem with my outfit?”

“Nothing at all. As you were saying?”

Atobe scowled, but spoke, “Rikkai did not take well to my refusal of their summons. Their brat intends to attack our western border.” Which was odd, considering that it wasn’t quite the most direct route from United Rikkai. Perhaps the famed Kirihara feared passage on the mountains separating their lands.

He thought that Oshitari might illuminate the matter, but his counselor merely hummed. “I sent additional men to refresh Ohtori’s team. But they’re still recovering from losing Shishido from the ranks with the hostage exchange. And there’s the matter of the wall.”

Nodding, Atobe said, “Our other defense might be in order, should the attack come to pass.”

“I’ll make the preparations,” Oshitari agreed, after all, there was no foul for readiness. “And you ought to make yours. You were watching for a long while. The hour is late and the lady awaits.”

Oshitari remained in company with Atobe as he readied himself, and left slightly before to announce the King’s arrival. He arrived some two minutes after, his leopard-hide cape trailing along the stone steps as he descended them.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Princess.”

“It is of no consequence. I had longer to pray that you were off getting frostbite,” An parried, taking sip of her wine. In a show of insolence, she had started dining without him. But Atobe did not take the empty bowl of soup against her. He wanted no guest, or hostage, hungry in his care.

His dungeons were another matter entirely. Or at least, the parts of them that were not included in Oshitari’s suite.

“Ahn, you freely admit that you think of me in my absence,” Atobe liked his dinner with a side of insolence.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should give me more of your absence and we’ll see what I make of it,” she said coolly.

Atobe sipped at his soup, drinking down the insult. “I wouldn’t risk that. After a whole day without my presence, you may just want to marry me.”

An’s look of total repugnance might have been insulting to anyone else. Atobe crooked a finger, calling for the next course to be served on his plate. “I’m curious. Is there any proposal you might consider?”

“If you would be so kind to take a knee and put your head on the chopping block, I might reconsider your first draft of the peace agreement.”

“Oh? You’re not satisfied with the agreement? I suppose that I could always fall back on the peace making strategy of my late father, Sakaki, and raze your little kingdom to the ground.”

Though it was a useless gesture, An clutched at her meat-knife.

Atobe sighed and cut into his steak. “Calm down, woman. You know that neither of us would profit from that,” which was exactly why he buried Sakaki’s strategies with him. When they interred Sakaki under the frozen river Fortuna with all of Hyoutei’s war-dead, Atobe privately hoped that, as King, he could achieve more than violence. “Wear that dress I bought for you tomorrow and I’ll forgive your remark.”

An crossed her arms, but it was the usual talk-back. “Never.”

“I’m fond of it, you ought to wear it.”

“Wear it yourself, King Atobe. It might convince me to marry you.”

Atobe guffawed and Oshitari slunk away from the table. There was much to prepare.

—

Yanagi kneeled over the floor, ear pressed to the ground. He had taken advantage of the changing of the guard to escape the healer’s den. Now, he relied on his ability to count the footfalls. Right now, one of Kuwahara’s men guarded the wing. Fukada was strong and capable, but also predictably efficient in that he covered the most amount of ground with the smallest amount of motion.

With Fukada’s stride (0.8 meters per step), it took him exactly eight steps to put himself in front of the entrance to Yukimura’s quarters, incidentally just three doors down from his own. And with the intimacy going on in Yukimura’s chambers, no doubt the guard would go the other direction…

He heard a sound different than a step, more of a pivot and pause, and then the paces grew fainter in the other direction. On the seventh step, Yanagi stood and eased the door open, wary for the creaky second piece of wood.

Not that anyone would hear him over Yukimura’s ruckus. He had Echizen to thank for that.

Even blind, he knew the corridors of the keep like the palm of his hand. He patiently moved room to room, taking a route both indirect and necessary to avoid prying eyes. At least, unless anyone knew to look for him.

A gust of wind blew by Yanagi’s ear and whispered, come in. He was passing by the guest wing; a command like that could only have come from one room. Yanagi considered the potential consequences of ignoring the words. There really wasn’t much to consider.

The fourth floor down, just beyond the great window that made the air just a little chillier. He didn’t knock.

“Good evening,” he bowed. “How may I be of service to the Cyclone of Seigaku?”

Though Yanagi had no desire to call Tezuka his King, he thought that calling the wind lord a blowhard might cross the line.

Ignoring the nickname, Tezuka said, “You’ve heard, I presume. Atobe has refused the summons and Kirihara marches on Hyoutei at dawn.”

Yanagi inclined his head slightly.

“And where are you going, as such a war is waged on your behalf?” Tezuka narrowed his eyes, not that Yanagi could see it.

“I think that should be obvious to you, Lord Tezuka,” Yanagi said diplomatically. He had no intention of letting such a war happen, and he couldn’t very well stop it under the watch of a royal baby sitter.

“Aa,” that was answer enough for Tezuka. “In that case, you will do me a service.”

“If it is possible, I will not refuse,” he said politely.

“You will take my ward with you to Hyoutei. She has business regarding Princess An.”

Having met Tezuka’s shy slip of a girl, Yanagi was inclined to refuse. “I appreciate your situation. However, I’m not sure that I am suited to protect such a lady in my current state.”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Tezuka looked down his nose at Yanagi. “She will be protecting you.”

Tezuka made a valid point. It was at least 37.8% safer to travel under a passport with the seal of Seigaku. They had many alliances and peace treaties with nations across the continent, including Hyoutei. However, that didn’t do them much good against brigands and highway thieves. Ryuuzaki’s presence wouldn’t hinder his current strategy to deal with that problem, merely increase the risk involved.

Besides, if Tezuka held him another eleven minutes, all hope of escape would be lost.

“In that case, I would be grateful for her company.”

Though Tezuka made no reply, the King’s light footsteps illustrated his walk to the adjoining room.

“Are you prepared, Sakuno-chan?”

“Y-yes!” Sakuno all but squeaked.

Yanagi inhaled and exhaled. Despite how she sounded, she was a ward of Tezuka. Since he had little opportunity to observe the girl, he would have to rely on the King’s judgment.

Unfortunately, he rather hated relying on the calculations of others. They weren’t nearly precise enough for his purposes.

“Please follow me, Lady Ryuuzaki. Silently, if you please.”

Yanagi led Sakuno down the staircase toward the lower keep. Once they slipped past the alert, highly trained guard here, risk of capture or abort mission dropped to less than five percent.

“Don’t worry,” he told Sakuno, who had been shaking nearly the entire time. “Our total chance of success is 71.1%.”

Almost no sooner than he calculated that, Sakuno tripped on the last stair and screamed like a banshee.

Eight voices in reply — the eastern rampart guard.

Yanagi grabbed Sakuno by the hand and pushed her into the wall behind the door. He planted his hands on either side of her head and braced himself for impact. As expected, the door swung open and hit his back. He pressed his lips together and heard part of the guard fly up the steps in search of potential intruders.

It was good that he kept Sakuno’s hand, for he now used it to drag her through the courtyard to the only exit of Rikkai’s keep. Their chances of escape were slim and shrinking with every passing moment. They could only hope that the soldiers assumed they fled indoors.

“They’re trying to escape!” Yanagi ran with his chin pulled to his chest, willing his hood to stay on. He couldn’t sense anyone near the gate and could only run, dragging Sakuno along to keep in front of the heavy footsteps at their back.

More footsteps joined those. Six men trailed them. With his vision, Yanagi could have defeated them quite soundly.

Just when their chance of escape had whittled down to less than one percent, he heard a scrape of boots and a rush of air from above.

“Puri.”

A high-impact collision rattled metal and sent heavy vibrations Yanagi’s way.

Sakuno called out in disbelief — Yanagi understood that one of Yukimura’s own knights leaping from the top of the keep to take soldiers down like bowling pins might be cause for shock.

“Quiet, woman. Do we need more friends to come play?” The voice and diction suggested Niou, but data from the impact and vibration of the collision matched another, “Hiroshi. We appreciate your timely assistance.”

Yagyuu bowed, “As expected from one of the three monsters of Rikkai.”

Some monster — he could barely escape his own nest. “At the moment, consider me more of a bug,” he took Sakuno by the hand once more. “Tell Seiichi that it’s summer. Time for me to come up from under ground.”

From under his protection, to sing his last song in with the vain hope of preventing the total ruin of everything they worked so hard to build. He would not have the reputation of Rikkai destroyed, even if it meant his death. There would be no silly wars on his behalf.

“We’ll be listening.”

Yanagi turned his back on Yagyuu and on Rikkai. He and Sakuno started on the road.

Chapter Text

Part 2: The Climb

“I’m sorry!” Sakuno apologized shamefully. She trailed behind Yanagi and glumly avoided staring at his back. Not that the blind man would notice. It just seemed disrespectful when she had already caused trouble for their mission.

“You’ve apologized thirty-one times now,” Yanagi informed her. “Not one of them necessary.”

“Ah — I’m sorry!”

Yanagi hummed in vague disappointment.

“Um…” Sakuno picked up her stride a little, though she needed two and a half steps to match Yanagi’s every one. “Sorry, but…is it really safe? For you to not use a cane?”

“Will you inform me if a large sinkhole opens up in the middle of the road?”

“Yes! Yes of course!” Sakuno assured him.

“Then it is perfectly safe.”

Somehow, Yanagi knew exactly where the path through the wood curved. He didn’t bump Sakuno even once, which was to his credit for how close to him she walked. For safety, she told herself, so they wouldn’t lose each other. She was unaccustomed to traveling at this time of night.

As if he read her mind, Yanagi said, “We’ll find somewhere to stop for the night. I know of a discrete tavern that should have an available room.”

“Um…” Sakuno bit her lip and startled. She could almost see the empty main road and a familiar sign-fork from this particular spot in the wood. “Actually. We’re not very far from a friend of mine. I’m sure she’d take us in.”

Yanagi stepped to avoid a large root before Sakuno could warn him of it. “If you’re sure, it will be safer to stay with your friend. There is a 21.2% chance that soldiers may search the tavern.”

“…I…I see.”

“But I do not know the way,” he stopped and turned to face her. She could see beneath his hood now; his eyes were still closed. “You will have to lead us,” he reached his hand out to her.

Sakuno swallowed and grasped it. Hopefully, she would be able to find it from here. “Of course.” She stood perfectly still, holding Yanagi’s hand and blushing furiously.

“The main road is to the left,” Yanagi offered.

“Yes!” she squeaked more than said, then cursed her voice for betraying her.

An hour and a half later, Sakuno truly had to praise the counselor’s patience. She had dragged him up and down the street, in a large circle around the fork in the road, and perhaps down every offshoot path that did not in fact contain Tomoka’s house until finally they stood in front of the little smoking cottage. The sun would peek up from behind them shortly. She hoped that Yanagi had no intention of departing with the dawn, for she knew that she’d be asleep the second her head touched down on a soft surface.

Sakuno knocked on the door, first quietly, and then with increasing volume to wake her friend. Finally, a bleary-eyed girl in messy pigtails peered out at them from the cottage. Small voices noised from behind her, no doubt Tomoka’s siblings. She gave her friend great credit for looking after them while her parents peddled their potions across the continent.

“Sakuno-chan!” no matter how tired she was, Tomoka could always muster enthusiasm for her dear friend. The two girls hugged, and in that embrace, Sakuno felt warmth return to her body. She thought she’d never feel warm or rested again after half the night in the woods. “And handsome stranger,” Tomoka grinned and eyed Sakuno.

Sakuno blushed furiously and flailed to deny any sort of relationship with her travel buddy. Yanagi merely nodded. “I apologize for our early hour. However, if possible, we must get off the road immediately.”

“Of course,” Tomoka opened the door wider and ushered them in, Yanagi first. She pulled Sakuno a bit away from her tall, shrouded companion and asked, “Is he safe?”

Nodding vigorously, she said, “You know I would never put you and your family at risk.”

Tomoka smiled and pushed Sakuno deeper into the warm house. “You know, you’re family to me too.” Her brothers, unfortunately awake, swarmed about Yanagi and pelted him with questions.

“Who are you?”

“A friend to you, young man.”

“How tall are you?”

“184 centimeters.”

“Your cloak is funny.”

“It retains heat and is patterned to blend in with the wood.”

“Why are your eyes closed?”

“Because I’m quite tired and already sleeping, as you should be.”

Tomoka honed in on that opening. “He’s right. Back to bed, the both of you.” The boys grumbled, but tiredly listened. She then turned to address Yanagi. “So, Sir…”

She waited for him to supply his name.

“Just Renji will do.”

“Renji,” she smiled and bowed. “I’m Osakada Tomoka. Any friend of Sakuno’s is a friend of ours. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the room just there,” she pointed in the room Sakuno knew to be her parents’, vacant for the present. “And we’ll become better friends in the morning.”

Yanagi bowed in turn, “That sounds most agreeable, thank you.”

“Ah! Um…!” Yanagi hadn’t been able to see Tomoka’s pointing, but did he want to reveal that he couldn’t see? “I have something to tell Yana – Um…Renji first. I’ll just show him….” She put a hand to Yanagi’s back and pushed him forward, much to his amusement.

She just knew that Tomoka was smirking behind her; the polite thank you from Yanagi was worth it. However, nothing beat collapsing into bed beside Tomoka. She slept well with her dear friend snuggled up to her back.

—

If it surprised Tezuka to be summoned to Yukimura’s court well past two in the morning, his expression gave no indication. When he arrived, the entire guard occupied the large chamber. One white haired man stood before the soldiers, just in front of the King.

“Niou Masaharu, you are banished from Rikkai,” Yukimura words, though quietly spoken, might as well have been his yips for the ripples they caused in the guard. “In consideration of your treasonous actions, you should be pleased with this mercy. Leave your armor and livery, as you no longer have the right to wear them.”

The trickster bowed, more a show of insolence than obedience. “As you wish, oh glorious pudding head.”

Sanada growled. Yukimura waved him off as one might swat a fly. “Oh, get out of my sight.”

Yukimura’s stern gaze met his own as if to say, you’re next.

When Niou vacated the hall, Yukimura called Marui forward.

“Follow him,” Yukimura ordered. He didn’t bother to tell Marui to evade notice; with the racket that the pink-haired man caused by his chewing alone, Tezuka wondered if it were even possible.

“He’s all mine,” Marui promised with a grin.

Yagyuu pushed up his glasses and said, “He’s unlikely to leave without saying goodbye to the place strays. Start with the lower town exit.”

“Thank you, Yagyuu,” Yukimura said. “Now, I require a private audience with King Tezuka.”

The guards marched out on Sanada’s order.

“Please, have a seat,” Yukimura motioned to the sole chair occupying the center of the room.

Since sitting on the ground level put him much lower than Yukimura, Tezuka shook his head once politely. “Thank you, I prefer standing.”

Yukimura hummed vaguely, but didn’t press the matter. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my counselor has escaped.”

“I heard the rumor and cannot quite fathom how a blind, impaired patient escaped your notorious guard.”

“Indeed. And my guards inform me that he did not escape alone. Your ward was in his company.”

“I amend my statement. I cannot fathom how a blind, impaired patient and a young maiden with no talent in combat or intrigue escaped your notorious guard.”

Yukimura narrowed his eyes at Tezuka. “And yet they did. Almost certainly with help.”

“As I am tasked to keeping Sakuno safe, I will do everything I can to aid your search,” he said, continuing to ignore Yukimura’s implication that he had anything to do with it.

“To escape the way he did, Yanagi would have gone by your door. Sanada and I suppose he stopped with you for counsel.”

Knowing that they had no proof, Tezuka stated, “I was reading. Communications from the Tarragon monks take some time to get through.”

“Do you take me for a fool, Tezuka Kunimitsu?” Yukimura said coolly. “I understand that you wish to avoid war with Hyoutei, but some things must be done.”

“Yes,” Tezuka agreed. “Some things must be done.”

The helpless fury in Yukimura’s eyes told him that he knew it just as well, and didn’t like it.

—

“They were obviously here.”

Tezuka turned around to see Echizen standing against the wall. His lips pursed in annoyance; the door had been locked for a reason. “Aa,” he sat down at his desk chair.

“I just want to know why the hell you didn’t go with them?”

Vaguely amused by the question, Tezuka opened his journal and dated a new day. He was unlikely to get any sleep with Echizen pestering him. “You’re not on your husband side?”

Echizen sighed and flopped onto Tezuka’s bed. “Doing everything someone tells you to do isn’t doing them any favors.”

Tezuka hummed in agreement, but Echizen just continued waiting for an answer. When Tezuka became sick of the younger dragon-born’s eyes digging into his skull in the ungodly hours of the morning, he said, “It wasn’t my place to go.”

“But it was your place to get involved?”

With a sigh, Tezuka admitted, “Fuji left me little choice. If Rikkai goes to war with Hyoutei, Seigaku has some responsibility for that.”

Echizen frowned. Tezuka hoped the wheels in his little head were turning for something other than food. “You should’ve sent me then. Yanagi’s blind and dying and Sakuno can’t fight. They’ll get mowed down by bandits before they even leave Rikkai.”

Tezuka raised a neat brow and stared, “Are you questioning my judgment?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Excessive force drove us to these problems, Ryoma. Regardless of what you, or Fuji think, it will not win the day. Your part of the prophecy has been played.”

“What, everyone that’s not part of some old lizard’s murmurings is useless?”

Anyone else would have cowered in the force of Tezuka’s glare. Echizen just sulked.

“You’re only useless when you’ve let your guard down,” and Tezuka was just as guilty of that as anyone else. Despite many warnings, he stayed on the sidelines too long, thinking only of the safety of his country. If the scales tipped any further out of balance, they would all fall.

—

“We had extraordinary luck last night,” Yanagi informed Sakuno. If he considered Sakuno’s timing, the warmth on the right side of his body (from a window, presumably one 30 by 62 centimeters in measure), and the bustle of activity audible from the boys’ room, it was about mid-morning. When he received no reply, he assumed that Sakuno was either half-asleep or fixing him with that puzzled look people often gave him.

In truth, it was neither. Sakuno seemed nervous, which became apparent to Yanagi when she clumsily fetched herself water. “H-how so?” she asked.

“Not twenty-seven minutes after we came outside, a patrol from Rikkai went down this road and up the main street. Fortunately, the Osakada home is surrounded with rough patches of flora; our footsteps would be too faint to judge by night, even for Rikkai trackers.”

With the possible exception of Yanagi, who was now reduced to a blind runaway.

“I’m glad that our weeds could do something for you guys,” Osakada chuckled.

“We are very grateful for your assistance,” Yanagi hung his head in a slight bow.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else. Oh, I could make some breakfast! We have eggs fresh from this morning,” she bragged.

“That would be welcome, thank you,” he wasn’t lying, but the task had the added benefit of leaving him alone with Sakuno. He felt that his companion was hiding something from him, something they could not discuss on the road. “And some tea as well, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Tomoka said brightly. Yanagi wondered if her cheer could be bottled up and shared among the kingdom. No — people would want to destroy them all the more for being so pleasant in the morning.

After Tomoka’s footsteps brought her beyond hearing range, Yanagi asked Sakuno gently, “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”

Sakuno squealed and dropped her glass of water. It had only been about 21% full anyway. “I-I haven’t lied about anything.”

“I understand,” Yanagi continued. “But I assume there must be a real reason for a nation’s King to send his ward on a dangerous mission to a nation under siege, with nothing but a handicapped bookworm for protection.”

Though Yanagi couldn’t see it, Sakuno squirmed and shifted her eyes around the room. “The truth is…I’m really worried about my friend, An.”

She wasn’t lying, but Yanagi sensed that she still had more to reveal. He decided to pursue the only matter she chose to tell him for now, “The hostage exchanged by Fudomine as a temporary peace agreement while the treaty is written.”

Sakuno nodded, and then continued when she remembered that Yanagi couldn’t see her. “If Hyoutei goes to war, An will be in danger. I mean, if King Atobe ever finds out that Fuji went against the agreement…I…I asked Kunimitsu to help me save her.”

Yanagi applied logic. “If I succeed, Hyoutei and An are saved. If I fail, you escape with Princess An.”

“So you are trying to stop the war!” Sakuno said, small body wreck with relief.

“I don’t want to see the everything that Seiichi, Genichirou, and I have worked hard for disappear into a meaningless war. Things need to stabilize or no one will be safe anywhere.”

“…Then…how will we stop it?”

Yanagi smiled, “Not alone. My calculations account for the very best contribution for all parties involved.”

“So,” Tomoka said as she set down the tea between them. “What’s a girl like me got to contribute?”

“Tomo!” Sakuno exclaimed, touched. “I really appreciate it, but…you have your brothers to look after and I would never — An and I would never want you hurt.”

“Hey, I’m a tough —”

“Actually,” Yanagi sipped at his tea. “There is something that you can do.”

—

“Yanagi-san…you look…” before she could finish her sentence, he knew it to be a lie. “Very nice.”

Tasking Tomoka with their disguises had been the right decision indeed. She trimmed his long hair into a bowl cut and tied one of her mother’s fine scarves around his eyes. The working clothes of her father were unlike any he had worn in a long time. They were a little short around the ankle, but would serve him quite well. Yanagi wasn’t able to discern what Tomoka did for Sakuno, but the two girls had been alone and giggling for a long time. Now Sakuno might as well be wearing optimism for a cloak.

“Thank you,” he acknowledged the lie. “With these, we should be able to reach Shitenhouji without much struggle.”

“Shitenhouji?” Sakuno said with surprise. “Isn’t there a more direct way?”

“A more direct, more treacherous way,” that would take them straight to Kirihara’s army. “However, there’s something we need in Shitenhouji.”

“…Takoyaki?” Tomoka guessed.

“It’s definitely not going to be takoyaki…”

“Someone,” Yanagi clarified. “And that approach will bring us to the southern border of Hyoutei, where we have the best chance of entry.”

“Eh? I thought that the western side — ”

“Perhaps for a military entrance.”

“And Kirihara is attacking to the west…” the more Sakuno spoke, the more confused she sounded. Perhaps they should return to discussion of dresses.

“Our trip to Shitenhouji will take care of that, among other things,” he promised. “For now, we should prepare to depart within the hour.”

Yanagi left the girls to say their goodbyes while he enjoyed a quick soak in hot water; optimistically, it would return some of the feeling to his legs, which were all pins and needles.

—

“Interesting,” the iced blue of Atobe’s eyes flickered with his visions.

Oshitari didn’t lift his gaze from the massive scroll under his hands. “Oh?”

“He’s coming for me.”

“Kirihara? We’re preparing to annihilate him as we speak.”

“No, the counselor nobody, Yanagi.”

“As a counselor nobody, I should probably be offended by that,” Oshitari etched a calculation into the large map.

“Not offended enough to do anything about it,” Atobe kicked the back of Oshitari’s chair.

“Why should I? Apparently, the whole of Rikkai is marching out to do something about you. Perhaps you should be flattered.”

Settling down in a plush chair, Atobe studied his own war map and said, “I don’t quite know how to be. I am unable to see his intentions.”

That drew Oshitari’s eyes up away from the map.

“Yet,” Atobe was quick to add. “He will reveal his goal eventually. I doubt it will matter. Once our weapon is activated, the victor will be me.”

“Of course, sire,” Oshitari said. “More importantly, I received a letter from Shishido. They moved him from Fudomine’s keep to Seigaku’s.”

Atobe huffed. “Putting him farther away? I care not,” a lie, he cared a little. “They will treat him well there.”

“Shall I reply in your stead, then?”

“Please,” Atobe agreed. “I must focus my efforts abroad.”

Oshitari’s lips curled into a sharp smile. “As you wish.”

—

The royal suite offered a beautiful view of the sunrise, but Yukimura’s mind was many miles from there. He stared vacantly, arguing with himself until a sleepy voice interrupted his musings.

“Did you sleep?”

Yukimura shook his head. He sighed and let his own weight go, dropping back to rest his head on Echizen’s stomach. The fingers pushing through his hair were soothing, but not enough. “Did I do the right thing?” he murmured, asking himself as much as he was asking Ryoma.

“You’ve done a lot of things, Seiichi. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Echizen wasn’t wrong. Yukimura hadn’t stopped acting since the day his country fell. Not even when the healers told him that he must rest for their work to truly stick. He dragged those healers out to war, forcing them to leech his sickness and his life over and over again until he was left with only the will to fight.

But that was not Yukimura’s concern or regret.

“I pulled back the search for Yanagi,” Yukimura said, hating that he sounded so unsure. For a moment, he thought his dragon of a consort might tear into that weakness with the sharp claws Yukimura knew him to have.

But Echizen shook his head, “You did the hard thing. That usually means that it’s right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your whole life has been war, Seiichi. You died because of it.”

Yukimura remembered dying. For him, death happened slowly over the span of many years. Healers brought him back every time, but when he thought about his death, he remembered the last battle of his unification campaign. He remembered standing at the top of the hill with Yanagi and Sanada, watching all of the dictator warlords who protested Yukimura’s claim over their serfs and lands. Even with the tingling of death in his fingertips, Yukimura recalled his own fury and determination.

That long, bloody fight stole every bit of strength from Yukimura. And Seigaku watched. Watched and supported as much as they could without actually entering the fray. They healed and provided firepower and tents for the troops to return to.

The battle won, Yukimura fell to the ground he had bloodied with the determination of his people. Sanada’s scream echoed through the field and Yanagi stood in silent vigil.

Yukimura remembered the effort to stand. It was crazy to think that standing up was the hardest thing he ever had to do. But he knew it was the end, and as King, he needed to stand to show that it wasn’t the end for Rikkai.

No one expected Seigaku’s Echizen to punch him down again. The memory of that particular pain brought a smile to Yukimura’s face.

“I was also saved because of it,” Yukimura reminded Ryoma.

“True,” Echizen said. “But you’ve won already. You have your country and your life.”

“Not Yanagi.”

“Well, maybe it’s his turn to stand up,” Echizen shrugged.

“It was my battle. Yanagi was against invading Nagoya from the start. He thought the threat level and potential resource gain wasn’t worth the bloodshed,” Nagoya — outsiders — had armed the rebels against his father. He couldn’t quite forgive them, but had that grudge really been worth waging another war?

“Then maybe you should stop fighting other people and just fight me instead.”

That wrought a chuckle from Yukimura. “I can’t tell if you’re advocating violence or peace.”

“Neither. Just fun. You know, I thought going pacifist was going to be really boring. It’s just…different.”

“Did Tezuka tell you to say that?”

Echizen grumbled, “I do have my own thoughts, asshole.”

“Asshole?” Yukimura repeated, vaguely amused.

“Pudding head.”

“Glorious pudding head. And you ought to pair that with a bow,” Yukimura said imperiously. Echizen took that opportunity to pounce him down onto the flat of his back. Though Echizen was indeed bowing, it was over his husband’s prone form.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Echizen smirked.

“Brat,” Yukimura bent his leg, pushing it up between Echizen’s.

Almost immediately, golden eyes ignited. Echizen rolled his hips and breathed his words along Yukimura’s jaw, “You’re still as fun as the day I set your pansy ass on fire.”

“Mmmm,” Yukimura pushed his hands into the shorter man’s underwear to give his bottom a squeeze. “How romantic.”

—

With the passports gifted by Tezuka, crossing the border of Shitenhouji was no trouble whatsoever. But Yanagi couldn’t have anticipated the heaviness in the air, like there was some kind of sour gravity acting on it.

“Shitenhouji is… depressing,” Sakuno said quietly as they left the border town.

“It wasn’t always,” Yanagi explained with a frown. “Shiraishi was reputed to be a kind, good-humored ruler. Good intelligence suggests that as a dragon-born, he was blessed with charisma.”

Sakuno paused, partially out of disbelief and then some other emotion that Yanagi couldn’t pinpoint. When she provided no further information, he continued, “However, something happened here that has not become common knowledge. How much do you know about the history of this country?”

“Um…not much. My grandmother really liked comedies from Shitenhouji…” she offered, to no real assistance. However, Yanagi was glad to draw her back into the conversation.

“It was not just Rikkai who suffered the warring period. Two elder members of the court, Taira and Hara rebelled against Shiraishi in the first year of his reign,” Yanagi informed Sakuno.

“….But he won if he’s still King now?”

“Indeed. King Shiraishi extinguished the rebellion in a month. That was two years ago.”

“One month?!”

“To end the fight with as little bloodshed as possible, a member of the Tarragon order gifted Shiraishi with a draconic relic, the golden gauntlet. It is said that the gauntlet will increase a dragon-born’s inherent power, gift them with amplified strength and supply a nearly impenetrable personal defense. I have it on reliable sources that the rebellion could not have been put down so quickly any other way.”

“Oh, I see,” Sakuno said and waited for Yanagi to continue the history.

“However, such a weapon is heavy, physically and spiritually. All dragon-born, no matter how good they are, suffer the greed of their ancestor. The gauntlet has surely amplified this trait in Shiraishi as well, corrupting his true personality.”

Sakuno gasped, no doubt with sympathy for the King’s burden. “Then why has no one removed it?”

“Because it is not easily removed,” Yanagi said.

“…So what are we going to do?”

Yanagi smiled. “Remove it. King Atobe seems like the sort of man to appreciate something both shiny and dangerous.”

—

Though Sakuno felt like traveling through Rikkai was intense, it was nothing compared to Shitenhouji. Every person they passed on the road seemed more unfriendly and aggressive than the last. She stood close enough to Yanagi to be holding his hand.

What if they were robbed? Despite Tezuka’s best efforts, Sakuno’s combat skills were barely passable. And Yanagi was blind. As clever as he was, Sakuno didn’t expect him to actually use the long, curved knife tucked into his bag. She would just have to count on her luck. Given her ancestry, that wasn’t exactly insignificant.

As if responding to her thoughts, a group of bulky men stopped them in the road.

“A blind man and a little girl?” the man laughed. “Hand over everything you got, or I’ll take out your pretty eyes to match your friend.”

Yanagi stood in front of Sakuno. “We have very little money, but you are welcome to it.”

“Very little isn’t going to cut it,” the gang circled them. “We might fetch a penny for the girl.”

Sakuno watched Yanagi plunge his hand into his bag, seemingly shuffling around for a wallet. Anxiety tugged at her. Was he going to try to fight? Did he have hidden money?

In that moment of procrastination, everything went to hell. An orange and yellow blur cannonballed down from the treetops and bowled over two bandits. When that blur stilled, she saw that it was a person — a small person with a bright red tangle of hair, flashy yellow clothes, and no weapon in sight.

It quickly became apparent that their new friend had no need of one. He kicked a man in the face and somersaulted into another. Sakuno wouldn’t have thought it possible to flip more than once in the air. If Yanagi hadn’t pulled Sakuno out of the way just in time, she too would have fallen victim to his mad acrobatics.

How could Yanagi have known to do so when she, able to see, could barely follow the movements?

The highway bandits skedaddled and Sakuno imagined big puffs of smoke in their wake. Though it hadn’t been at all her doing, she felt vindicated.

“Um…thank you…” she squeaked more than said.

“Hey! It’s okay! Didja know that you’re really pretty?! I came because somethin’ smelled nice and it was totally you!”

Face boiling, Sakuno backpedaled to put some distance between her and the eager stranger. Could he tell her heritage from her scent? Fortunately, Yanagi got between them and bowed.

“We are grateful for your assistance,” he said. Whenever the stranger tried to get around him, Yanagi managed to put himself in the way. “May I ask your name?”

Puffing up his chest, the boy said, “I’m Tooyama Kintarou! It’s so cool that you’re wearing a blind-fold! Were you playing pin the tail on the dragon? Can I play too?!” Tooyama looked around eagerly.

“Unfortunately not,” Yanagi said. “We have business with King Shiraishi.”

The energy immediately drained from Tooyama’s face. With an expression round and flat like a toad’s, he sidled up to Yanagi and whispered loudly. “You don’t want to play pin the tail on the dragon with Shiraishi. He has a poison arm.”

“I see,” Yanagi said. Sakuno rather envied his composure. “All the same, we’d really like to speak with him.”

Tooyama looked troubled. “Shiraishi doesn’t like it when new friends come over anymore. …I was going to find Koshimae to help me beat Shiraishi and his poison arm because I already know him.”

“That’s very smart,” Yanagi praised Tooyama. The little redhead puffed up all the more. “But I have something in common with Shiraishi that you don’t: poison eyes.”

Sakuno thought that no one could possibly be stupid enough to believe that, but sure enough, Tooyama jumped up and scrambled behind her. “Poison eyes!” he cried.

“Yes. I want to see him so that we can talk about our poisonous parts,” Yanagi said.

“In that case…” Tooyama said nervously. “Maybe Kenya can get you in.”

Yanagi nodded, “If you could direct me toward this Kenya, we would be grateful.”

“Kenya isn’t poison though,” Tooyama said, as if reminding him.

“I believe you,” Yanagi said neutrally.

Sakuno wondered if he even knew who this Kenya was, or if they could even trust Tooyama. But Yanagi didn’t hear the questions in her mind. He walked after Tooyama and Sakuno followed, quick to take his arm and ensure he didn't trip into a divot or anything equally unfortunate.

—

Tooyama Kintarou: dragon-born, incredibly fast and strong, inexplicably superstitious, 150 cm tall, plus or minus 2.7 cm, and most likely around 98 kg, which was quite light for a dragon-born. Or dragon-forged. Yanagi didn’t have enough information to distinguish between the two.

At least, that was all Yanagi could discern about their new contact during their brief walk through the woods. Tooyama quite handily dispatched any suspicious characters on their way to Kenya. Yanagi wondered if it was Oshitari Kenya, famous for his quick deliveries of important documents. Would Sakuno be interested in the history of the Oshitari family, spanning across two kingdoms and dating as far back as the dragon age? He was interrupted before he had the chance to ask.

“Koharu and Yuuji’s house is just ahead here. Kenya usually stops there whenever he’s running,” Tooyama said. No doubt he was pointing, despite Yanagi’s inability to see. Fortunately, he could feel the difference between the official road and the well-cut, but handmade path. “I havta go, but tell them HELLO from Kintarou!”

For a small person, Tooyama had very loud footsteps. Yanagi could their retreat even after a good fifty paces.

“Watch out, Renji,” Sakuno took his arm. Though he had noticed the dip in the ground, he nodded in gratitude. After all, with the growing unsteadiness on his feet, he might need her support the next time.

They approached the front of the house together. Sakuno knocked; the door swung under the power of her gesture.

“Don’t know your own strength?” Yanagi teased.

Sakuno’s voice went high pitched and Yanagi suspected that she was blushing. “N-no! I mean, it was open.”

“Close that again,” someone drawled. “I don’t care if you come in or not.”

Sakuno’s scream informed Yanagi that something was quite off about this place. He couldn’t fathom what; the baking bread certainly smelled nicer than the outdoors.

Sakuno’s yelling took on actual words. How informative. “Why are you in a cage?!”

“Why are you in my house?”

Yanagi felt that both questions were fair and needed to be answered. “We are here to wait for Oshitari Kenya.”

“Oh. He’ll be by later tonight,” the caged person said dismissively.

“Um…why are you...do you need help out of the cage?”

“No,” the man was quick to say. A young man, if Yanagi were to judge by sound.

“Let him be,” said a new voice. “Zaizen’s just in there because he wants to be.”

“Shut up, Yuuji. If your partner could keep his hands to himself….” A page turned. Voice number one, Zaizen, had ceased paying attention in favor of reading. Yanagi didn’t blame him. He supposed that there wasn’t much else to do in a cage.

Yanagi bowed in the direction of voice number two. “I apologize for our rude entrance. I am Renji and this is Sakuno. We come from Hyoutei with urgent business for King Shiraishi. Your friend Tooyama suggested that a man named Kenya might get us an audience.” If Sakuno was at all shocked by the half-lie, she thankfully managed to restrain herself.

“Ah, I’m Hitouji Yuuji. You can make yourselves comfortable here for now — ”

Before Yanagi could say anything further, he sensed a presence directly behind him. He wasn’t fast enough to escape the arms that wormed around his waist. “Ooooh, I’m in love! How long has it been since such a handsome man came to my house?!”

A change went over Hitouji immediately. “Koharu!” he shrieked. “Are you cheating on me? You can’t just bring people from Hyoutei into this house!”

The man in question, Koharu, began to pet Yanagi’s hair. “I didn’t bring them here, Yuuji,” he whined.

“You’re so cruel, Koharu! I can’t believe that I spent the whole afternoon chopping wood for your bubble bath!”

“You did?” if Koharu started to cry, Yanagi really hoped that it wouldn’t be on his shirt.

“Only because I didn’t know that you were a cheater!” Hitouji cried out as he ran from the cabin.

“Yuu-bear!” Koharu ran after him, much to Yanagi’s relief.

Another page turned; he estimated the book at least five hundred and six pages in length. “You can’t share my cage,” Zaizen said.

Yanagi wondered if it would be rude to help himself to their tea.

—

Two hours and three cups of tea later, Koharu and Yuuji still hadn’t returned. Yanagi had attempted to question Zaizen on everything Shitenhouji, without much success. The caged boy distrusted him and replied mostly in scathing retorts, only a few of them informative. He managed to gather that they had all been members of Shiraishi’s court and were subsequently banished for protesting his behavior under the gauntlet’s weight.

Though Yanagi was observant without his sight, at times like these he particularly missed his eyes. When all else failed, he could always count on the information he perceived. His own body was beginning to fail him and his mind would soon follow.

He estimated approximately two days, three hours, and forty-five minutes before he succumbed to Yukimura’s power. Because he couldn’t stare at his tea in contemplation, he traced his fingers up and down the sides of the warm glass, letting the heat feed his fading nerve endings.

“We return for you, Renji-kun!” Koharu stormed back into the house, smile in his voice.

“Don’t you call him Renji-kun!”

“That’s his name, isn’t it, Renji-kun?”

“Guys, I thought you said this was pretty urgent, yeah?” said a third voice, vaguely familiar. The last time he heard it, he received documents on the effects of the great freeze on Shitenhouji’s land.

Yanagi stood and bowed politely. “Oshitari Kenya. Thank you for coming.

“Nah,” said Kenya, good-naturedly. “Thank these guys for tracking me down. I was doing a favor for my cousin in Hyoutei, actually. Wanted to have me deliver a letter to Fudomine’s hostage down in Seigaku.”

“In that case, all of you have my gratitude. I don’t mean to press you, but this matter is quite urgent.”

Kenya shook his head; Yanagi felt a little wind off the rapid action. Then, Kenya seemed to realize that his conversation partner wore a blindfold and added, “Of course. I’m not called Speed Star for nothing. Oi, Yuuji. Can we get them a horse, they’ll need it to keep up with me.”

The two men fussed off around the back of the property. Secretly, Yanagi was relieved to give his legs a little rest before an event that would surely be exhausting.

Of course, he thought that before finding out just how exhausting it was to commute with Oshitari Kenya. If he weren’t already dying, that ride would have shortened his lifespan.

—

An hour’s journey brought them before the gates guarding the sanctuary. Yanagi knew them to be tall and heavy, for they took two men heaving and grunting to open them.

“I remember on the day of his coronation Shiraishi jumped and hit his head on this gate just to make his people laugh,” Kenya sighed.

Yanagi frowned; such a jump seemed inhumanly high. Even without the gauntlet, Shiraishi was a dragon-born to be respected. Or perhaps laughed at respectfully, as Kenya implied.

“An interesting first act as king,” Yanagi conceded.

“Well, it’s tradition that you never walk through these gates normally,” Kenya chuckled. “Or at least, it was.”

It was quite the dichotomy to hear about how things used to be, yet breathe the oppressive air of the castle. He felt dirt under his feet, and then hard, rich wood at the next stage. Shitenhouji’s stronghold was styled after a temple. That made sense — the influence of the Tarragon monks had been strong here. His mind’s library supplied all of the temple drawings that he needed to conjure a visual.

From the breeze toying with his hair, Yanagi inferred the presence of a center garden. He caught the vague scent of belladonna and wondered if the garden was a poisoned one. Yukimura might appreciate it here.

Would he ever see Yukimura again?

“Yo, Koshikawa. These two gotta see Shiraishi,” Kenya spoke (to a guard, Yanagi presumed). The two of them whispered just outside of Yanagi’s line of hearing; he managed to catch some mumbling about Shiraishi’s mood, some muted comment about a prophecy, and the passing along of a takoyaki bribe.

Eventually, Kenya returned from his conference to inform Yanagi and Sakuno. “They’re going to search us.”

“Very well,” Yanagi said. Smiling ever so slightly, he added a little louder, “If King Shiraishi has something to fear from a blind man and a servant girl, that is his prerogative.

Taken aback, the guard stuttered, “It’s just a matter of course!”

“I see,” Yanagi said in a long-suffering tone. “Go on ahead then.”

Flustered, Koishikawa searched them quickly and sent them through to the King’s receiving room. “King Shiraishi. Two travelers from Hyoutei seek audience with you. Their business is brief, if you will graciously agree to meet them.”

“I am really very busy, Koishikawa,” Shiraishi drawled. His voice carried, but did not echo, suggesting a large room with good sound absorption.

“We do promise to be brief, King Shiraishi,” Yanagi bowed. “I heard tell of your power and was sent by King Atobe himself to determine whether or not you are more impressive than him.”

“Oh,” Shiraishi purred darkly. Fabric shifted as Shiraishi moved, possibly into an upright position. “Even the most wealthy and hedonistic of Kings envies my greatness.”

“Hm, I came here to determine whether or not he has cause to do so,” Yanagi spoke, sounding vaguely bored.

“As you can see, I have everything a King could hope to possess. My subjects bow to my divine right and my words are doctrine,” Shiraishi’s volume increased. The chamber did have a slight echo after all. More importantly, he found it difficult to breathe in the thick, metallic air that filled it.

“Even a blind man can tell that you have power. I cannot say whether or not it is greater than King Atobe’s…” Yanagi caressed his own chin. “Perhaps if I were to behold your abilities in combat, I could say that you are superior.”

Shiraishi’s feet hit the floor. The vibration suggested that he weighed in around 321 kg — impossible for even a dragon-born walking toward him at that speed. Yanagi only had enough time to push Sakuno toward Koishikawa before the King grasped his shirt and pulled him down, as if it were insolence to be so tall. Perhaps it was, in Shitenhouji. A sword pressed up against his neck.

“I could defeat you in under a minute,” Shirashi bragged. His breath tickled Yanagi’s face.

“Maybe,” Yanagi conceded, quite composed. “But King Atobe could defeat me in that amount of time without a weapon.”

“Hmmph, child’s play. My form is perfect in every discipline.” The sword fell with a clatter and Shiraishi charged him, “Karate.” Yanagi quickly discerned that the most likely attack was a chop and stepped aside accordingly. “Judo,” he thrust his hand out to block Shiraishi’s kick. “And aikido,” but there wasn’t much dodging Shiraishi’s throw. The king grasped Yanagi by the cloak and flipped him over his back.

Having anticipated this, Yanagi remained calm. He raised his finger and informed Shiraishi, “Ah, but King Atobe can do this just as well. What more, he does so completely naked.”

“Eh?!” Kenya sounded in surprise.

Shiraishi rose to his feet. “Clothes don't make any difference to me,” the King proclaimed. Sakuno shrieked; the pitch and volume suggested that Shiraishi had indeed gone full birthday suit. Interesting. “How about this? And this?”

“Very nice….poses, sire,” Koishikawa stammered, highly embarrassed for their out of control King.

“Indeed,” Yanagi sat up and golf clapped. “Well done. But you still have some way to go if you wish to prove yourself the most powerful King in all the land.”

“How? What must I do?” Shiraishi growled.

“I’m not sure that it’s possible for you,” Yanagi shook his head. “You see, King Atobe is the reason that I wear a blindfold. On beholding him completely unadorned, naked without so much as a single jewel, I was so moved that I decided it would be the last thing I’d ever see.”

Without much warning, Yanagi was pinned to the ground again. With 100% certainty, he deduced that Shiraishi’s foot was on the verge of crushing his neck. “You’ll behold me,” the King demanded, yanking off the blindfold. “Behold me and writhe with ecstasy!”

The gauntlet fell to the floor with a clatter. The moments following were silent.

“Renji-kun! You’re cheating on me with Shiraishi!” Koharu whined. Yanagi wondered how long he had been there. In his complete focus on Shiraishi, he had neglected his surroundings. His senses were dulling.

“Koharu! That’s my line!” Hitouji stomped.

Shiraishi removed his foot from Yanagi’s throat and coughed. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but could someone find my pants…”

—

When he heard the story of what had happened and how far he had gone, Shiraishi needed some time to recover. That was just as well for Yanagi, since he could hardly walk without Sakuno’s assistance. A hot bath and a cup of tea restored enough of his strength to respond to the inevitable summons with some amount of dignity.

“I am Koishikawa,” a familiar voice announced quite thoughtfully. Though Yanagi would have deduced it eventually, he was grateful for the gesture.

“Koishikawa,” Yanagi opened the door and bowed with some effort. “I appreciate the trouble you took in coming to show me the way.”

“Of course,” the man sounded a little shy. The pace of his step was odd, as if impaired by — “We have something for you. To thank you for returning Shiraishi to us…”

He stopped to present Yanagi with something. Unable to tell quite what it was, he held out his hand. Koishikawa fitted a slender object to Yanagi’s grip. The wood was smooth and long enough to reach the floor, clearly a staff; the gift couldn’t have been more timely or appropriate.

“Thank you,” Yanagi said, tapping the bottom of the staff to the floor. “Please relay my gratitude to your comrades as well.”

“That won’t be necessary. They’re surrounding him as we speak.” Koishikawa started walking again. Yanagi’s staff assisted him in keeping up.

Sure enough, he could hear the chaos from Shiraishi’s suite before reaching it. Koishikawa knocked, probably more to get their attention than anything else, and announced, “Yanagi of Hyoutei, King Shiraishi.”

“Just Shiraishi will do, Koishikawa,” Shiraishi’s tone was night and day from their confrontation in the throne room. The now good King rose from his chair to guide Yanagi to a well-cushioned seat. “Would you all leave us? I promise, I won’t let Yanagi-kun leave before enjoying some festivities.”

Yanagi considered contesting that, but he supposed that both he and Sakuno could do with a hearty meal. Perhaps with that and a nap, they could ride through the night to Hyoutei.

“First of all,” Shiraishi said quietly, “I apologize for raising my hand against you. Despite my inexcusable behavior, I stand in your debt for the return of my sanity and, more importantly, the fate you rescued my Kingdom from.”

Shiraishi’s voice bounced off the wooden floors; he was bowing.

“Name your prize, Yanagi of Rikkai, and it’s yours.”

Naturally, he could not have expected to fool a King. “Before I do so, may I ask how you knew?”

Shiraishi took the seat next to Yanagi, for which he was grateful. Conversation could be had much more easily that way. “You might have fooled me,” he chuckled, “But little gets by my advisors. They might call my word the bible, but really, the worth of a King is determined only by the quality of people who believe in him.”

“Well said,” Yanagi smiled. “As for what I ask of you and your Kingdom, I would claim three boons.”

“Name them. If they are within my power to grant, I will do so without hesitation.”

“For the first, I would have this deed go down in the history books as a rescue from the Kingdom of Hyoutei.”

Shiraishi asked no questions and etched something onto a page, presumably making record of payment.

“For the second, I would claim the golden gauntlet of Sumire for the Hyoutei treasury.”

On this matter, he took Shiraishi’s silence for hesitation. “My concern is that Hyoutei will fall victim to the same temptation.”

“An understandable concern,” Yanagi agreed. “But whatever faults King Atobe may have, he possesses the power of insight. I do not think he will be so quick to use a power he can’t call his own.”

Not that Shiraishi had been eager to do so. The rebellion left him with little choice in the matter. “The gauntlet is a tricky and terrible weapon,” Shiraishi warned. “Once it’s on, only the wearer can remove it.”

Yanagi nodded. “You may hold me personally responsible.”

“I guess I needn’t have called for Kin’s return then,” Shiraishi chuckled. “I was going to have him bring down a whole cave on the thing, make it impossible to find.”

“Thank you,” he said, grateful that things had been so thought through. Clearly, the king wanted little more to do with the gauntlet, regardless of what it could offer. Yanagi thought that wise. “The third thing that I ask is something that only you can do.”

The sound of brush on paper ceased. Yanagi assumed that he had Shiraishi’s full attention. “There is someone whom I have failed,” he admitted. “And if he is not stopped, many lives will be lost in the short-term. Long-term, it may plunge all of our kingdoms into wars once again.”

Treaties and alliances were all well and good, but they also came with the territory of mutually assured destruction.

“The Kingdom of Shitenhouji is now in debt to both Hyoutei and Rikkai. I will do as you ask.”

“Then you must intercept Kirihara Akaya on his tear through Hyoutei. If anyone can convince him that terrorizing the citizens of the countryside will only hurt his cause, you can.”

“Ah…what shall I tell him?”

“I care not. Soothe his rampage and keep him safe, if at all possible. I leave the rest to your capable judgment, King Shiraishi.”

“Then we march at dawn,” Shiraishi clapped Yanagi on the back. Louder, he said, “You all heard that, right?”

Ah, so Shiraishi knew that the others were listening in. Koharu and Yuuji audibly whispering compliments at each other had been somewhat obvious, but their respective yelps when Zaizen had whacked them for the public display of affection even more so.

“You came to the right Kingdom to stop a war. Here, if it’s a grin, it’s a win!” Koharu and Yuuji chanted the last bit together and then, inexplicably, started screaming.

The explanation followed a second later. The door to the King’s suite came right off the hinges and collided forcefully with the ground. Yanagi worried for the historic wooden floors.

“AHHH!” Tooyama cried out, jumping up and down on the door. “Shiraishi! Be careful, he has poison eyes!!”

Shiraishi chuckled. “It seems like Kenya was a little faster than we needed him to be.”

—

Eyes pale as ice and deep as the waters beneath watched from the skylight of Shiraishi’s suite, though the gaze hailed from much farther up the frozen arm of the river Fortuna. That same river, which hugged Shitenhouji on the north side, passed just under the great Palladian window to King Atobe’s chambers.

Atobe himself stood and laughed, almost maniacally, into the majestic scenery.

“Glad to see that you’re enjoying yourself,” Oshitari said, leaning against the wall to observe. “Peeking into a brothel this time?”

“I’m not you, Yuushi.”

“A fact that has every pimp breathing a sigh of relief. Not even watching is free these days.”

“Maybe if you didn't insist on having your chambers in the dungeons, more people would be willing to visit them for free.”

“But then when I rub my hands together, I’d simply be chilly instead of wicked. Every counselor nobody has to have their thing.”

“Apparently Yanagi’s is stripping Kings.”

“Well, now I feel like I have the short end of the stick.”

“That’s what happens when you spend too much time playing with it.”

Oshitari chuckled. “Touché. What is the status on our King Stripper?”

“Coming to us via Shitenhouji,” the King answered, prying himself away from the window.

“Ah, shall we warn Jirou to expect some kind of assault on the gate?” Oshitari proposed.

“Unnecessary,” Atobe started down the corridor, fully expecting that Oshitari would follow. “I’m curious to see how he handles this.”

Half a step behind Atobe, Oshitari smirked, “If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re coming to like this counselor nobody.”

Atobe hmphed and waited for them to pass a section of soldiers, “He’s amusing. And bringing me a present besides.”

“Something of value, I’m sure,” Oshitari purred.

“Indeed. And the man is dying. I expect that he shall get here and crumple at my feet. Nothing has changed, Yuushi. A counselor nobody is still a counselor nobody.”

“Understood, my King.”

Shoulders tall, Atobe faced the entrance of his throne room. “Come if you can, Yanagi Renji, and fold before the might of Hyoutei.”

The massive room erupted into chanting. Atobe walked slowly, giving his people the chance to admire him as he ascended the dais. At the snap of his fingers, the sound echoed and died.

“My people!” Atobe projected. His charismatic voice required no amplifier in the attentive room. “United Rikkai senselessly marches upon us! Unprovoked, they launch fire at our western walls and rain terror on the border lands.”

He paused to let those words sink in. Though Atobe noted frightened faces among the crowd, all of them looked faithfully to him.

“They may have razed our hard-worked fields,” Atobe continued his speech. “But worry not for the fate of you and your kin! For if you follow my lead and do as I ask, I promise you, the great kingdom of Hyoutei will not lose a single human life!”

While Atobe basked in the deafening roar of his subjects, Oshitari pulled a velvet rope to unleash the massive chart, revealing their plan of action.

Chapter Text

Part 3: Into the Fire

Sakuno wasn’t entirely sure how long they had been plodding along the road. Somewhere between their departure from Shitenhouji and the slow greeting of the sun, she had managed to fall asleep on the mare she shared with Yanagi. They had ridden through a few hours of the night and their new surroundings couldn’t possibly be more different than the wooded Shitenhouji.

“You should have woken me, Renji!” Sakuno said. Was it really safe for a blind man to be steering?

“You needed the sleep,” Yanagi said simply. “Fortunately, our friend seems to know the way. If the roads are any indication, we’re approaching the gate.”

Frowning, Sakuno said, “Do you smell burning?”

“Yes,” Yanagi said. She turned a little to see concern replace his usually collected expression. “Coming ahead, from the northeast.” In other words, coming from Hyoutei.

“Do you think…Kirihara-kun…”

Yanagi shook his head. “No. He is some distance from here; the smell wouldn’t be this strong. We’ll inquire at the border.”

“Mm,” Sakuno said with determination. She narrowed her eyes on the horizon and spotted the fork in the road directing them to different kingdoms. As they approached it, she confirmed that they were indeed going in the right direction. Somehow, Yanagi and the mare had done it. “We have to go slightly right here,” she took the reigns from the counselor and directed the horse. “The sign says we should reach border patrol in just under two kilometers.”

“Thank you, Sakuno-chan,” Yanagi said, with feeling.

Sakuno wondered if he meant it, really, or if he would have been happier to travel alone. He seemed so reluctant to bring her along at first, and her clumsiness held them back a few times. She had even almost ruined their escape completely! And she hadn’t been able to watch Yanagi confront the King of Shitenhouji. During the battle, she had wished that she were the blind one.

The only thing she contributed were passports, which were really thanks to Tezuka, and the opportunity to stop at Tomoka’s house. She sighed; if she ever managed to rescue An-chan, certainly it would be by accident. But she couldn't think like that. Not with the life of a dear friend at stake. As the eyes of the mission, she had to keep looking forward.

And when she did, she spotted the gates of Hyoutei. At last, they had made it to the Kingdom. Naturally, no one crowded the entrance at this hour of the morning.

“We come from Seigaku,” Sakuno informed the front guard, who ushered them into the tall archway. The wall of Hyoutei was not merely a wall, as it appeared on the outside, but a structure thick enough to hold soldiers and administration. Was the interior this broad around the entirety of Hyoutei? How much had it cost and how many years had it taken to build? Yanagi would probably know.

The guard checked their paperwork and found no fault with the legitimacy. “There’s nothing wrong with your papers, but you’re going to have to wait until the wildfire goes down.”

“There was a wildfire? How terrible…” Sakuno sympathized.

“How rare, so far north in this season,” Yanagi commented quietly. Sakuno resisted the urge to elbow him.

“Indeed…” the guard said with a nervous smile. Sakuno couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something off about his tone. “But we can set the two of you up in our mess hall while the roads are cleared.”

Yanagi nodded, “We would be grateful.”

The guards courteously helped Sakuno and the blind Yanagi from the mare’s back. She watched Yanagi, leaning on his staff more with every step he took after the soldier. Riding so long hadn’t done him any good either. He should have been the one to sleep.

“This is our mess hall. The cooks will fix you up some breakfast with us. Special service for coming to the border so early,” the good-natured soldier laughed and patted Sakuno on the shoulder. Tezuka probably would have had the man’s hand for the gesture, but Sakuno didn’t really mind. “Oh, good morning, my Lord.”

“Mmmnn….”groaned a droopy-eyed redhead in backwards armor.

“This is Akutagawa Jirou, captain of this regiment.”

“Nice to meet you, Captain Akutagawa,” Sakuno bowed. Yanagi said nothing, but echoed her gesture.

“NMmhmm…” Akutagawa waved his hand vaguely as he walked by them. Then promptly backed up again to stare at him. The longer he stared, the wider his eyes bulged. Sakuno feared that they might pop out of head and onto his boots. “You know Marui Bunta!” he pointed to Yanagi.

Yanagi remained calm and pointed his blindfold, indicating to Akutagawa that he couldn’t see, “I’m sorry, are you referring to me?”

Akutagawa nodded vigorously, not that Yanagi could see it. “I know your face, you sat behind him at the tournament last year! He ate all of your sugar cane!” The excitable man’s light brown curls bounced with him. “I remember now, Yanagi Renji!”

They attracted every pair of eyes in the vicinity and awakened a few more.

Cocking his head slightly to the side, Yanagi said, “I’m sorry, but — ”

Akutagawa interrupted, going on his toes to pat Yanagi on the arm. “It’s okay. You’re pretty cool, one of the three monster generals of Rikkai and all, but not everyone can be a genius.”

The men around them drew their swords and circled them. Sakuno latched nervously onto Yanagi’s arm. The friendly guard didn’t look so friendly now. He said, “Well done, Lord Akutagawa. We will take the Rikkai spies into custody for further questioning.”

“We’re not spies!” Sakuno insisted, shaking like a leaf as the guards pushed them into the narrow opening in the wall. There was nothing to be done for it now. They had been caught.

—

Yanagi hated to spend even a single moment of his limited time trapped in a cell, but here he and Sakuno were, under the gates of Hyoutei and waiting for Akutagawa’s judgment. Despite Akutagawa’s fondness for Marui, none of the probabilities he calculated were in their favor.

Their chances hadn’t disappeared entirely. Yanagi still had reason to hope.

Keys jangled with the sound of footfalls; a guard was coming down for them. “Yanagi-san, Sakuno-san. You will join Akutagawa for lunch.”

“For…lunch?” Sakuno said, incredulously.

“Very well,” Yanagi interrupted before he could answer. His knowledge of Akutagawa prepared him to expect some level of civility. But, his lethargy and mood swings aside, Akutagawa was a powerful leader in Hyoutei; courtesy was not leniency.

The guard, echoing the politeness of his lord, marched them up the stairs. They allowed Yanagi to lean on Sakuno and made no attempt to bind them. Perhaps they — quite rightly — felt there was nothing to fear physically from a crippled blind man and a young maiden. Their guide ushered them into the room and Sakuno helped Yanagi along into a chair. The food smelled delectable and if not for the armed soldiers behind each of them, the atmosphere might have passed for a cordial lunch.

“Lord Akutagawa,” Yanagi greeted. “Thank you for treating us well.”

“Any friend of Marui’s is a friend of mine!” Akutagawa said cheerfully. “Are you injured? We have a great healer on staff who would be happy to look at you.”

“I appreciate the kind offer, but there isn’t anything that can be done for me,” he said. “I understand that you have to hold us for a certain amount of time, however-”

Akutagawa interrupted him before he could bring up the matter of their release. “How is Marui doing?”

“Very well,” Yanagi said. Beside him, he heard Sakuno nudge the silverware. So that she could start eating, he murmured the traditional blessing.

Akutagawa, having forgotten entirely about lunch, quickly mimicked the gesture. “Will he appear in the inter-kingdom friendly?” he asked, food again forgotten.

“I believe that he intends to. Kuwahara and Marui have been working hard on some new skills.”

“New skills!” the chair lurched as Akutagawa leaned in toward Yanagi. “But there can’t be ANYTHING in the world cooler than his tightrope special!”

“MMmm,” Yanagi hummed vaguely as he chewed. By the sound of it, Sakuno must have been hungry. “I can’t be sure how you would rank his new skill.”

“What is it?” Akutagawa asked eagerly. “Is it a rush? Another balance series? A secret cupcake in his armor?”

Clearly, Marui and Akutagawa were the same kind of warrior.

“I’m afraid that his new move is — ” before Yanagi could explain that the (non-existent) move was top secret, a new guard interrupted them.

“Lord Akutagawa, we’ve caught another person from Rikkai skulking around the border,” the soldier announced, standing at attention.

“Thank you, Takeda,” Akutagawa beamed. “Why don’t you bring him in? Maybe counselor Yanagi knows them.”

With the knowledge that Akutagawa was more intelligent than he acted, Yanagi had to wonder what he had up his sleeve. For a brief moment, he fretted internally about the highly unlikely possibility of Kirihara’s capture. No. There were many explanations more probable than that.

Impossibly, Yanagi heard a chew and pop. At first he thought he hallucinated it. Though he sensed that he had been followed, his luck couldn’t be good enough to deal the most ideal situation. But then Akutagawa nigh deafened him with a delighted yelp. “Marui! It’s Marui!” the excitable member of Hyoutei knocked down his chair to go shake Marui’s hand. “Yanagi-san, did you bring Marui to me?!”

“Er, he fell from a tree, my Lord.”

“Impossible, he has perfect balance!” Akutagawa defended him.

“Yes,” Yanagi answered quickly. “I brought Marui to Hyoutei so he could show you his new move in person.”

“Eh?! My new…” Marui did some quick thinking to catch up. “Yes, obviously, that. My new move.”

Yanagi would give his new staff to see the look on Marui’s face.

“You’re going to show me? Really?” Akutagawa sounded so eager that Yanagi almost regretted taking advantage of him. However, that was part of the border guard’s strength. He needed to be careful to not get caught up in that personality.

“Of course,” Marui nodded. Yanagi got the feeling that he was puffing out his chest a little. “But you know that I always eat an entire cake before combat. I couldn’t possibly show you like this.”

“Oh yes,” Akutagawa agreed. “I would never expect you to. We’ll have a cake prepared immediately.”

“Butter cream frosting?” Marui suggested.

“And fresh berries baked inside.”

Marui swallowed audibly and said, “That’ll do. Will you see it done personally? I don’t think that your friends like me very much.”

“Oh, they’re just concerned because we’re at war,” Akutagawa said. The cheer behind those words couldn’t possibly be real. Yanagi expected him to refuse Marui’s request and continue to avoid real topics, but the young Lord left them.

“Fell out of a tree?” Yanagi spoke lowly.

Marui grumbled something inaudible.

Yanagi smiled. Though he had intellectually known that he wasn’t alone, the company of his comrade was a comfort that he couldn’t describe. While Sakuno had proved useful in many ways throughout the journey, Marui was different. Marui was Rikkai. Marui was a weapon of his arsenal.

They were going to be okay.

“The cook says he can have the cake ready in a few hours. The roads finally cleared enough to let one of the supply wagons through,” Akutagawa said, returning to the room. “Since we have to wait, I brought my secret stash of cookies.”

“They look good,” Marui said, reaching for one. Sakuno too, after a moment’s hesitation, gave into the good-natured offer. Yanagi politely declined and sipped at the provided tea. Fortunately, Marui had the good sense to wait for Akutagawa to bite into his own first. No poison, just sugar.

With that threat gone, Yanagi allowed himself to focus on the most important piece of information Akutagawa provided. The roads were workable again. There was a wagon supplying the kitchens. Perhaps if they could get to that wagon…

“Bunta, why don’t you tell Lord Akutagawa about the time that you almost single-handedly saved a coastal town from Higa raiders?” he suggested, sipping at his tea.

“Oh, that?” Marui said with false modesty. “That was just me taking Kite Eishirou to task for going back on his promise.”

Awed, Akutagawa gasped, “Wow, you’re so cool, Marui!”

“Jackal helped too,” Marui conceded. “Held Kite down while I did this and that.” The chair across from him slid out and Marui danced around, illustrating the battle. If the little crunches and returns to the table were anything to go by, Marui spent half his performance scarfing down cookies. “And then, just when we thought we finished him off, the rest of Kite’s pirates stormed into the bakery. To spar with his biggest man, I leapt up onto the countertop!”

To demonstrate this, Marui hopped up onto his chair and stepped on the edge of the table. Almost immediately, the table tipped, crashing food and drink everywhere. The guards rushed over to the other side of the table to dig their lord out from under plates of turkey and cookies.

Catching the cue, Yanagi grabbed Sakuno by the hand and made for the unguarded entrance. “To the kitchens,” he spoke urgently to her. Blind, he could only guess their location.

“On your left!” Marui said, catching up to them. “They dragged me by it on the way in.”

Sakuno led the way to the kitchens, pulling Yanagi behind her. Marui brought up the rear, knocking over displays of armor, shelves, and then pots and pants wherever they went to slow the hot pursuit.

“Ah!” Sakuno yelped and stopped short. Yanagi could only assume that guards poured into the kitchen through some other entrance. “Let me go!”

Yanagi could only keep her hand and pull while his brain worked triple time to figure out what was going on in the chaotic room. Marui pushed past him to free Sakuno, only to fall victim to her flailing and tumble back into a large, thumping object. The soldiers screamed and Marui laughed victoriously.

“Marui special tag-team gluten attack!”

But there was no time to gloat. They climbed over the wreckage and out to where their wagon awaited. “Sakuno-chan, can you drive a horse drawn wagon?”

Sakuno squeaked with alarm. “No!”

“Well you’re going to have to learn,” Marui said as he barricaded the door. The clamoring voices of the border’s guard drew nearer.

“MARUI!” Akutagawa shouted from the kitchens, shattering plates following his voice. “What about our cake?!”

Marui paused and said with great drama. “Go, Yanagi. I’ll stay here and hold them off.”

“There’s room for one more…” Sakuno insisted.

“Just go!” Marui said, kicking down the ladder.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, my friend,” Yanagi said with a knowing little curve of the lip.

The wagon lurched as Sakuno got the large pull horse moving. “Oh goodness no, no, not that way! Yes, yes, this way….ohhhh we need to go faster!” she monologue as they blew past the gate, knocking away guards.

But some continued to give chase and Yanagi was in no position to fight them off. Yanagi groped around the full cart, hoping to at least push its contents out onto those in hot pursuit, when his nose caught a whiff of the barrel.

Cooking oil.

“Ride faster, Sakuno!” he said urgently.

As crops burned on either side of the road, Yanagi gave a great heave and rolled all six barrels of cooking oil out onto the road. At least one of them had the chance of bouncing off and….

An explosion. Sakuno and the horse screamed together, but the heat of the fire only whispered at their backs. A wall of fire grew between them and the border of Hyoutei and the great castle of ice lay ahead.

There was no turning back.

—

Sakuno hadn’t been sure what to expect from this adventure, but the thought of driving a supply wagon through the blazing fields of Hyoutei had never crossed her mind. Despite many lessons with Tezuka, she had never been good at horseback riding. She thought about how she might retell the story to her keeper, about how she had handled the large pull-horse. Maybe Tezuka would be proud of her.

Not that she was done handling the large pull horse. The fire on either side of the road made the animal understandably uneasy.

“Why would they set their own fields on fire?” Sakuno wondered aloud.

“At first, I thought they might be attempting the slash-and-burn agriculture technique…but it’s not the appropriate timing for that,” Yanagi said. “These fields would have had crops – or as many crops as ground with permafrost can produce….”

Yanagi went on to describe the kinds of vegetation that grew at different depths of permafrost and why they might grow slightly crooked. For the most part, Sakuno just nodded.

“…also known as drunken forest phenomenon. But there is one other reason they might burn their fields. One that fits with the season.”

That piqued her ears. “What reason would that be?” she asked.

“Magic,” Yanagi explained.

To Sakuno, that wasn’t much of an explanation at all. She would have demanded a more detailed one, but the sight of Hyoutei’s castle on the horizon stole her words. The absolutely massive structure was comprised not of one building, but of at least two-dozen white stone spires of varying heights. If she turned her head and squinted, it resembled an oddly contorted hand.

She had no time to admire the architecture, for when she squinted, she also noticed men riding toward them. Their horses were riding right over the river! If they didn’t do something fast, they would be captured.

“Renji,” she warned. “We have company.” With the rolling fire on both sides and the border behind them, there really was nowhere to run.

“Good,” Yanagi smiled, inexplicably. “We’ve arrived.”

Apparently, Yanagi had no intention of resisting. The troop of men, led by a redhead who couldn’t be much taller than Sakuno, surrounded them.

“We’ve got you now, Rikkai bitches,” the redhead grinned viciously. “Come nicely or else.”

“We won’t give you the mental strain of completing that sentence, Mukahi-san,” Yanagi said flatly. “We have every intention of cooperating.”

One of Captain Mukahi’s men took over the horse for Sakuno. She slid back into the wagon and latched onto Yanagi’s arm. For better or worse, she would see An-chan very soon.

—

Yanagi had intended to begin his diplomatic mission with Hyoutei in a calm, dignified manner, though he was only a day (and approximately seven hours and thirty-seven minutes) from death’s door. His body thought otherwise. He more collapsed off of than disembarked the wagon. If not for the soldiers standing there, he would have faceplanted in front of Atobe’s counselor, Oshitari.

“Well done, Gakuto,” Oshitari said, tone warm with familiarity.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t just end them,” Gakuto drawled. “After the shit they’re pulling out west — Ohtori is in some real trouble without the usual backup.”

“He’ll manage without Shishido, their hearts are as one.”

“You’re disgusting,” Gakuto said fondly.

“So you’ve said. Anyway, if you’d be so good as to let Keigo know that his number one fan has arrived.”

“I’m not an errand boy,” he grumbled. “But just this once…”

Light footsteps retreated.

“Take the girl into custody,” Oshitari said to one of his guards.

“Yes, counselor,” Sakuno was seized from under Yanagi’s arm. If not for the guard replacing her, he would have fallen. “To the dungeons? Your suite, then?”

“Heavens, no! One of the tower rooms. And not one with a view, mind you. She’s Tezuka’s.”

Sakuno struggled in protest. “Renji!” she cried as they dragged her away. Yanagi would have protested, insisting that she stay with him, but he had a feeling that Sakuno would receive better treatment away from his association. After all, the King of Hyoutei had great respect for Tezuka.

The guards on either side of Yanagi continued in the direction Gakuto had departed, up a stone spiral set of stairs. It was all he could do to twitch his feet along with the guards and try to prevent bruising impact with the limestone steps. By the time they reached their destination, he had completely given up on that endeavor. Perhaps the secret to achieving the famed Hyoutei ass was their obscene amount of stairs.

The wind from the open room was cold enough to make some bite on Yanagi’s barely present limbs.

“Leave us,” Atobe said. The guards let go of Yanagi, letting him crumple to the floor. If he were not mistaken, it was also limestone. He wondered how insane the King of Hyoutei had to be to have a room of columns and no walls this high up a narrow tower, or how talented the architect. Yanagi did not really expect to survive long enough to put his questions to the designer.

The sound of Atobe’s heeled boots approached and stopped just in front of him. A different object, long, thin and wooden, clattered to the floor.

“I believe you left this behind,” Atobe drawled. Yanagi reached forward and found his staff. Relying on it, he made the torturous climb to his feet. Even with the staff to lean on he found the task difficult, but the King of Hyoutei waited in silence for him to do so.

“Thank you,” he said, knuckles white with effort.

“I believe that those should be my words,” Atobe sat, but did not invite Yanagi to do so. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t strip for you.”

Yanagi sat down beside the King. He had never been intimidated by dragon-born or royalty. And now, at the end of his life, what did he have to fear personally anyway? “Of course,” he said congenially. “I’m in no condition to appreciate the sight, regardless.”

“Unfortunately for you, I cannot be defeated by flattery alone,” Atobe stated, pleased. “But you have succeeded in amusing me.”

“Fortunately for me, I don’t intend to defeat you.”

“Ahn?” Atobe inquired, feigning disinterest.

“I intend to court you.”

“Court me?” for his tone of voice, Atobe’s eyebrows were 90% likely to be somewhere near his hairline.

“Indeed.”

“But you’re hardly able to walk.”

“Is that a prerequisite?”

Atobe furrowed his brows and considered. Yanagi waited, bemused.

“Oh shut up, I’m thinking.”

“While you’re thinking, you should know that your counselor put Tezuka’s ward in a jail cell.”

“….Not the dungeons?” Atobe said with some concern.

“No, Oshitari-san spoke of a tower.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Atobe said, “Good. I worried for a moment that he turned his sights on little girls. Very well. I’ll see her released.”

Atobe was reasonable on this subject, at least. Sakuno had done him no wrong.

“I’m glad to know that you haven’t held it against Tezuka,” Yanagi said.

Coldly, Atobe said, “Held what.”

“That he rejected your first courting gift.”

Rejecting the subject, Atobe said, “Where are yours? I may well use them to murder you for insolence.”

“I suppose that might count as a rejection. But do you really wish to give the gift up, knowing what it is?”

With a little huff, Atobe said, “Well, I do believe that it’s customary to begin with three courting gifts.”

Surely, Atobe was considering accepting some and rejecting others. That was good news for Yanagi — the King seemed to have dismissed the idea of killing him and taking his possessions regardless.

“Good thing that I brought four, just in case one didn’t meet your approval,” Yanagi supplied.

“Very well,” Atobe said, quite mollified. “Present them.”

Yanagi smiled slyly and bowed, “I do believe that they are in the custody of your counselor, Oshitari. I hope you will allow me to follow tradition and present the gifts after a meal and interview.”

“You do realize that you are inferior to me in every way,” Atobe informed him straightly.

“Perhaps,” Yanagi said. “But considering that I have been summoned into your private audience without noble qualifications, I believe that I deserve an interview prior to appraisal.”

Atobe considered this with a noisy hum; he was a rather loud thinker. Yanagi didn’t mind, so long as the person in his company bothered with mental mastication.

“I suppose you have been amusing enough to merit a meal and a bath,” Atobe snapped his fingers to summon guards. “But if I am not pleased, I will take pleasure in letting you die beneath my castle.”

The guards hauled Yanagi off of Atobe’s couch and made to pick him up. “No need,” he informed them. “I can walk just fine.”

Stairs or no stairs, he was Rikkai and he had some pride.

—

The guards, true to their word, locked Sakuno into a plain, sterile jail cell. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for the row directly across from her. The prisoners quivered in their cages, backs against the bars to be as far away from the sheer drop off the tower as possible. Sakuno had no idea how high up they were; it must’ve been both terrifying and freezing. Even she, across the room, huddled into the thin blanket provided by the guard.

She wondered if anyone had ever chosen to jump. Perhaps that was the point.

For a few hours she shivered and thought about her life, whether Yanagi was still alive, if she’d ever get to save An. If she’d be able to ever look Tomoka in the eye if she failed.

A low commotion interrupted her downward spiral. She couldn’t believe her eyes when An ascended the steps, cleaner and more sumptuously clothed than Sakuno had ever seen her.

“You’re…you’re…” clears clouded Sakuno’s vision, but for some reason, she could only say, “You’re wearing a gown.”

“Ridiculous, right,” An said, voice thick. “Not even for a proper ball or anything. Though Atobe did offer to throw me one…”

It was so ridiculous that the two girls had to laugh. They laughed and embraced through the bars, pulling on clothes and squeezing patches of flesh just to make sure it was real.

Finally, An sniffed and pulled back, but it was to yell at a guard, “Release her into my custody.”

The guard looked like he wanted to help, but ultimately said, “Sorry, Princess. We’re to keep her locked up until the King decides what to do with her.”

Crossing her arms, An insisted, “Well, there’s no reason to keep her locked up here. Put her in my gilded cage. Misery loves company.”

The troubled man shook his head, “I wish I could, honestly.” Prison was for criminals, not young maidens. “But it would be my job.”

Stubbornly, An pursed her lips. “Then lock me in with her.”

This seemed to trouble the guard too, but less than her previous demands. “Very well. Let me see if I can collect some furs from the lads for the both of you.”

“That would be very kind,” An inclined her head.

The keeper of the keys returned quickly bearing two of the thick furs that Hyoutei warriors typically wear. Apparently, two soldiers had been pretty eager to give up their coats for the Princess An. The guard locked her in with Sakuno and left the girls to some measure of privacy; he watched from the other end of the long row of cages, just out of earshot.

“Being a captive sucks,” An explained, sitting close to Sakuno against the warmest wall. She draped one massive coat over their legs like a blanket and they shared the other as well, squirming close together to each have an arm in a sleeve. “But the people here aren’t so bad all the time.”

“So they’re not keeping you in a place like this?” Sakuno pillowed her head on An’s shoulder.

“No, not at all,” An rested her head atop Sakuno’s. “I have a lovely set of rooms and an even more absurd wardrobe. For the most part I can come and go freely, but outside my rooms, I’m constantly watched.”

That sounded frustrating. She felt sorry for her friend, who valued freedom over almost everything else.

“But it’s worth it, I think,” An continued. “To work something out. The last thing Fudomine needs is to go to war with Hyoutei a second time.”

Internally, Sakuno wavered. She wondered whether or not to tell An that her captivity might be for naught, that Seigaku had whispered, Rikkai had acted and that there was something powerful and mysterious going on in Hyoutei. First the fire and now a horrible stench of death lingered in the air, not as oppressive and heavy as that of Shitenhouji, but equally ominous. There was something bad happening; she just didn’t know what.

“An-chan…” Sakuno said softly.

“Mmm?”

“What do you know about magic?” she asked softly.

An considered her seemingly random question. “Kippei and Syuusuke argued about it during the war. Syuusuke has the knowledge to wield spells, but magic is life and can only be accumulated by taking life.”

“That sounds horrible!”

“There were people willing to sacrifice years of their lives, or their entire lives…but Kippei wouldn’t have it. Not even crops…though oddly, Syuusuke was less reluctant to take years than fields.”

“Fields…” it dawned on Sakuno. An frowned, determining that there was more to Sakuno’s question than met the eye. Finally, Sakuno continued. “The fields of Hyoutei. They’re on fire.”

Before they could continue their conversation, a guard came for them. “Word from the King, my ladies. You’re to be moved into your own suite, beside Princess An,” he informed Sakuno as he unfastened the lock.

“That’s…good news,” An managed to smile. “Don’t mind her, she’s just a little overwhelmed by all of this.”

Sakuno nodded dumbly, allowing An to usher her along after the guard.

—

Yanagi had been waiting for Atobe for exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes. Fortunately, his fortitude had been restored by a long bath and a seemingly endless supply of tea. He didn’t mind the stalling when Atobe’s servants fetched him a hot cup whenever he asked.

“Good evening, King Stripper,” Atobe entered the room. Apparently, the King had opted to wear riding boots instead of his heeled boots.

“What an unfortunate nickname,” Yanagi said. “As you’re quite safe from my wiles, Renji will do.”

“I suppose you may address me as Atobe-sama,” he said grandly. “Instead of Your Majesty.”

“Very kind,” Yanagi remarked, neglecting to use a name at all. “Did you have a pleasant ride?”

“Hm? Ride?”

“You’re wearing boots specifically cobbled for riding. Since your boots earlier were significantly more formal for a less formal occasion, I assumed it was preference. Therefore, any deviation from that preference is most likely function.”

Atobe snorted and said sarcastically, “King Stripper and footwear expert. Color me impressed, what can’t you do, Renji?”

“I suppose I can’t talk down on others with quite as much flair,” Yanagi said. “Though with the height difference between us, I hardly think it necessary.”

Yanagi was 78% certain that Atobe flinched, but the ice King was ever quick with the comeback. “If my horse is to be considered, that is more than enough height and weight to squash you flat.”

“Ah, you’re correct. Which breed of horse, so that I might calculate the angle to tilt my head and muster up the appropriate amount of fear,” Yanagi conveyed, not the least bit afraid.

Despite his best efforts, Atobe’s tone softened when he talked about his horse. “Excidium is a pure-bred Destrier. Sixteen hands tall and more than strong enough to bury a man in the dirt with the might of his hooves alone.”

“Hm, perhaps I should have brought a courting gift for him as well.”

Atobe laughed, “Already trying to bribe my horse?”

“True, putting the cart before the King is a terrible habit,” he said. “I ought to bribe you first.”

“Indeed. But for now, let’s eat,” Atobe, in a surprising show of manners, guided Yanagi from the sitting room to the table. “Our countries are at war. You’ll find me marginally more receptive after a nice cut of steak.”

Yanagi supposed that meant marginally less likely to let him rot and never return the body. But despite the lingering threat and the ticking clock in his body, he rather enjoyed Atobe’s caustic companionship. The King had a presence to rival Sanada’s, carried a sharp conversation with Yukimura’s skill, and flustered with far more charm than Kirihara. He almost regretted when grappa replaced dinner on the table, signifying the end of pleasantries.

“So, our kingdoms are at war because of you,” Atobe said, seemingly relaxed. Yanagi supposed he was relaxed in the way a vicious jungle cat might recline occasionally. “And you intend to court me to save your own life.”

“I think you’ll find that the fighting has ceased.”

“Shitenhouji,” Atobe said, because he had seen. “That doesn’t change the unprovoked attack on our western lands and the damage inflicted on our wall.”

Yanagi reached into his pocket and put a small, brown pouch on the table between them. From the silence, he assumed that Atobe was examining it cautiously.

“…What is it,” he said finally, not trusting Yanagi quite enough to touch it.

“Reparations,” he said. “As there were no human casualties, I think that should be enough.”

With a noise somewhere between disbelief and anger, Atobe shifted. Yanagi assumed that he opened the pouch and was proven right when the King said sourly, “It’s dirt.”

“It’s mostly dung, actually,” Yanagi supplied. “81% dung with dried blood and added nutrients.”

Yanagi swore that the temperature in the room dropped a full twelve and a half degrees.

“Dung,” Atobe echoed in a tone that promised murder.

“Exactly,” Yanagi said, unphased. “It’s a very important ingredient in fertilizer.” When it seemed that Atobe was going to let him go on unmolested, he continued, “I developed this particular mixture to help our crops along in the hard ground. I do think you will need to customize it to Hyoutei’s soil, but if you combine this with upturned earth, you’ll see your harvest come up faster and stronger, better able to bear the weather to a reasonable extent.”

Considering that Hyoutei’s fields had been mysteriously razed, Yanagi couldn’t have picked a better time to offer this particular gift. However, he worried more about the purpose of said razing.

“Go on,” Atobe said. The King didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he was willing to hear Yanagi out, something he had banked all of his probabilities upon.

“As you know, Kirihara’s attack is being neutralized as we speak. Additionally, you no longer need to consider the corrupted Shitenhouji as a threat. Military power aside, you had many problems with petty criminals and gangs in that direction,” though he had been attacked, Atobe was coming out the victor in this drama. “Shitenhouji has been freed in your name, and you will find them grateful neighbors.”

Atobe hummed as he considered these points. By now, Yanagi knew that to be a good sign. “I suppose you could do no better with immaterial gifts.”

Yanagi knew exactly what Atobe was so impatient to see. In fact, it defied all odds that the King refrained from seizing it immediately. “I also come bearing a relic of Sumire, the golden gauntlet,” he reached into his bag and held it out for Atobe to see. “The gift is not the gauntlet itself, but my faith in your ability to protect the world from it.”

“Indeed,” Atobe agreed, quite flattered. Yanagi could hear the smile in his voice. “The words you spoke to Shiraishi were correct. I have no intention of wearing the gauntlet.”

If Yanagi were to hazard a guess, Atobe simply wished to call it his own and hide it beneath his castle with all of his other treasures. Yukimura had such a hoard too, as did Echizen, though it was some foul tasting wine instead of gold. For such a powerful species, dragon-born could be so predictable. Because he had more sense than to say as much, Yanagi simply bowed.

“You amuse me,” Atobe decided. “And I found your offerings passable. I will consider allowing you to court me, but I make no guarantees for your survival.”

“Thank you, Keigo,” Yanagi smiled, not really expecting to survive either way.

The great King sputtered, but articulated no real complaint against the address.

—

Unable to sleep, Yanagi sat at the window and mused over calculations. As a blind man, he had no real reason for sitting at the window. In fact, it was chilly and therefore more uncomfortable than the rest of the generous suite. But it felt like the proper place to think, and if he attempted any other location, he might be distracted and instead contemplate whether or not he’d be more productive by the window.

“Cat got your tongue, dataman?” a familiar voice teased from said window.

“I’m just taking in the view, Niou-kun,” Yanagi shifted slightly to allow his comrade ease of entry.

“See anything good?” Niou did not come inside. Only Niou would enjoy remaining perched on the windowsill of a tower this high up.

“Many probabilities,” he admitted, for he knew they both shared a fondness for numbers. “None of them favorable.”

“You’ve said that before, just makes it interesting,” Niou said easily. Finally, the white-haired man hopped into the room; the guard must have been passing by below. Surely Niou was walking about his room, but he couldn’t confirm that hunch until he heard him sniff at the scent bowl on his bedside. After they left Marui behind at the border, he no longer had the feeling of being followed. Niou was that good.

“Indeed, Rikkai only plays for high stakes,” he agreed. And with another weapon at hand to increase their chances, the odds were…

Crunch. Niou was eating the potpourri.

Hurl. Niou spat up the potpourri.

…Their odds were still quite bad, really. Yanagi poured a glass of water for Niou and said, “You might as well take my bed for tonight. I have work to do.”

Niou took the water and used those footsteps to blow air annoyingly in Yanagi’s ear. “I didn’t climb this nice tall tower to spoon myself.”

Tilting his head slightly, Yanagi smiled and said, “I hear that Hyoutei has a section of the dungeon entirely reserved for spooning.”

“How promising,” Niou said flatly, and strut off to flop onto Yanagi’s bed.

“You should make your way down there. Punishment for pushing Bunta out of that tree.”

Niou just laughed. “He wanted to meet Akutagawa again, really. Just needed the right push.”

Yanagi sighed. It was going to be a long night indeed.

—

“So,” Atobe said to Yanagi over breakfast. “I have made my decision.”

Yanagi sipped at his tea; if Atobe cut Yanagi open, would he even bleed, or would a rush of leaves fly out of him? Beside Princess An, Sakuno sat up straight and alert, concerned for the future of her friend. The girl was nice enough, but Atobe couldn’t quite understand Tezuka’s fondness for the clumsy thing.

“And?” Yanagi directed Atobe’s attention back to him. Sakuno had been quivering under his stare, ah well.

“While I found your problem-solving skills interesting, your gifts appropriate, and your presence not entirely disagreeable,” Atobe explained, “Your status doesn’t benefit me at all, politically.”

Atobe hoped to marry for both advantage and affection. Yanagi didn’t have the former, rather the opposite. If he agreed to be courted by him, other countries would see Hyoutei kowtowing to the will of Rikkai. As for affection, there was no time for it to develop with Yanagi, who was on the verge of death. Despite his best efforts to do so, Atobe didn’t dislike him. The counselor might even have something to offer in the way of looks after a nice blast of fire, but that wasn’t real affection.

“I can understand that,” Yanagi said, quite serene. Did the man want to die?

“That being said,” Atobe continued, “I can appreciate an enterprising spirit. I will give you one chance to prove yourself worthy of the opportunity.”

“Oh?” Yanagi said. Atobe half wanted to kick him; the face of a vegetable had more character.

“You will fight for the right in battle. Should you win, I’ll permit you to court me. However, if you lose, you lose your life.”

Not that Yanagi had much life left to lose anyway.

To Atobe’s surprise, the little mouse of Seigaku stood up from her chair. “You can’t make him do that!” she exclaimed. “That’s not a fair challenge!”

“If it were fair, it would not be a challenge, girl,” Atobe drawled. “A blind man has no hope in battle. Therefore, the physical difference between you and my chosen champion are about equal to the distance between our statuses.”

“He’s not wrong,” Yanagi said to Sakuno with a gentleness he didn’t expect anyone from Rikkai to ever exhibit. More firmly, Yanagi said, “I will take your challenge, Keigo.”

Wrinkling his nose, Atobe declared, “You are not permitted to use that name unless you win.”

“Until I win,” Yanagi’s lips quirked ever so slightly.

“A blind cripple has no hope in battle,” Atobe said. “You best hold your tongue.”

“Perhaps after another cup of tea,” Yanagi said and, to Atobe’s astonishment, poured it himself.

—

Kirihara all but skipped through the hellish landscape of destruction and ash. Every so often he stopped to put some immensely heavy block of rubble into a wheelbarrow so jam-packed that no normal human could ever hope to push it.

“Well done, Akaya,” Shiraishi said with a smile. The King of Shitenhouji was bare from the waist up and carrying a massive bit of lumber. “Bring it over to Koharu and Zaizen. They’re calculating how best to use everything for the reconstruction of the town.”

“Yes!” Kirihara writhed under the praise. “But is it not more important to build up the wall?”

Shiraishi shook his head. “The homes of the displaced come first. And besides, you can stop any enemy that tries to push past us, yes?”

Puffing up his chest, Kirihara agreed, “Of course I can. I wouldn’t let anything interrupt Yanagi’s plan.”

“Just as I thought, you’re a good friend.”

On the wings of those compliments, Kirihara flew to the gathering point where Shitenhouji’s two brains were piecing together the town.

“I think we’re going to have to re-dig the well too,” Zaizen said, looking over the map that Koharu had unearthed from the ruins of one of the finer buildings. “Our supply is running low and people can’t return to a polluted well.”

“And food is hard to come by,” Hitouji said, getting off his horse. “Apparently everywhere else caught fire after Rikkai lit the western fields up. The money you gave me only bought us this much,” he gestured to the bag of rice and caged chickens.

Kirihara frowned. “I…didn’t use that much fire. Yeah, we burned the western field, but the rubble from the wall coming down pretty much put it out.”

“That’s not the only strange news,” said Kenya, panting. Had he been running to keep up with Hitouji on horseback?

“What else is going on?” Shiraishi asked, concerned.

Kenya and Shiraishi exchanged looks that Kirihara didn’t quite understand. Shiraishi nodded and the runner spoke, “There’s a battle at sundown. Between Hyoutei’s black knight and Rikkai’s Yanagi Renji.”

Kirihara’s eyes became splendid green saucers. “What?!” he shouted in disbelief. At any other time, Kirihara would have gladly watched on as Yanagi cunningly obliterated his opponent. But now… “He’s blind!”

“I know,” Shiraishi said. His expression remained confusing to Kirihara, as if he wanted to interfere but knew that he shouldn’t.

Kicking down the wheelbarrow with a frightful yell, Kirihara said, “I’m gonna fucking go there and beat the shit outta him! Nobody pushes around Rikkai!”

“I’m sure Yanagi-kun appreciates your outrage on his behalf,” Shiraishi said reasonably. “But you are of more help to him here, being the stronghold for his plan in the west.”

Kirihara seethed, unhearing.

“Trust Yanagi-kun to your King,” Shiraishi said. Exhaling a little heavily, the King of Shitenhouji turned to Kenya. “I know you just got back, but are you able to go again?”

“Always,” Kenya grinned and got to his feet. The runner was tired, but not out yet.

“I want you to get to Rikkai. Ride or run, I don’t care, whichever is faster. Inform Yukimura about this,” clasping Kenya on the shoulder, he added, “Show everyone why you’re called the speed star of the nation.”

Powered up by the words, Kenya shouted and took off like a bullet.

Finally, Kirihara said with frustration, “No matter how fast he is, they won’t get here in time.”

Shaking his head, Shiraishi said, “I wouldn’t underestimate your King. And besides…” he turned and looked beyond the broken western wall. “There’s more than one way to send a message to the King of Hyoutei.”

—

“Yagyuu, what is taking so long,” Yukimura demanded. The King had been pacing in front of his horse for the last fifteen minutes, itching to ride.

“Sire,” Yagyuu bowed neatly. “Two-thousand men need some time to assemble.”

“How long will it take?”

“At least another thirty minutes, my King. The horses must also be outfitted.”

Yukimura inhaled and exhaled with quiet fury. “Ryoma, fly me to Hyoutei.”

Sitting idly on the stairs, Ryoma flipped through a children’s book. “Too heavy.”

“You carried me just last week.”

Ryoma snorted. “Yeah, to the hunting woods and back, not to another Kingdom.”

“And you’re not going to come with us?”

“I’ll fly and catch up.”

“Did you know that you are, in fact, the worst husband ever?”

Smirking up at Yukimura, Ryoma said, “You drew it onto my anniversary card, remember?

Hoping that Yukimura would pass the next twenty minutes bickering with Ryoma, Yagyuu retreated to help Kuwahara ready the knights. As the minutes ticked by, soldiers collected before the massive gate. Every man on horseback was individual, bearing at least three weapons of their own choice and wearing armor to suit their own needs. Each one rode proudly into line before the King, visibly strutting the crest of United Rikkai that had been burned into the plated metal over their heart. Their presence shifted the balance of Yukimura’s rage. He was no longer an individual crying for blood, which cooled his mindless words with Ryoma. He let the Seigaku warrior have the last word.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Yukimura gave Ryoma a light smack on the cheek and mounted his horse.

When he turned round to his army, his violet eyes melted into something magma hot. His gaze melted rows of men; two by two they pivoted to the side, making way for Yukimura as he rode to the massive gate, where Sanada joined him.

“Open the gate!” Sanada bellowed. Four people turned a massive wheel to obey the order.

Yukimura and Sanada led the soldiers through the streets. People in the lower town crowded to behold the army’s launch and cheer for their victory. Children waved at them from their father’s necks, women blew kisses to their husbands, and everyone they passed wished them well.

The power of their people, the power of their city, reminded Yukimura all over again; they were United Rikkai, and they would be whole.

“I hope you’re watching, Atobe Keigo,” Yukimura said as they left their city behind. “Because I’m coming for you.”

—

The hours to sunset passed like days. Several people had approached Atobe to talk him down from challenging the blind man. Regardless of their argument, he insisted that he did Yanagi a great mercy by not taking the battlefield personally. No one disagreed with that.

His great insight watched Rikkai for a reaction and was not disappointed. Yukimura had not quite emptied his lands of men to take him on, the Nagoya incident had quite depleted his forces, but he had to remember that while Hyoutei had sheer population volume, every member of Rikkai’s army reached a highly trained, elite level. One Rikkai soldier was three anywhere else.

However, Atobe was ready for them this time. Under the might of the weapon they prepared, Yukimura would regret making personal demands on Atobe’s life and then daring to attack the western lands under his protection. Atobe didn’t hate Yanagi, no, but that didn’t exclude him from Hyoutei’s plan to bring Rikkai to its knees with remorse. His champion was obvious. Not one person in Hyoutei questioned whom Atobe would choose.

“Kabaji,” Atobe said to his dear friend. “It is time. Do not fail me.”

“Usu.”

The ground of the dirt arena seemed to shift when Kabaji walked, every step a mini earthquake. Atobe, quite used to the phenomenon, continued his regal climb up the stairs and to his seat. Except his seat was already occupied by an odd, white haired man.

“Excuse me,” Atobe drawled poisonously. It took him only a moment to recognize the impudent man. He must have crept in through the chaos at the Hyoutei-Shitenhouji border. “Niou Masaharu. Give me a good reason to not have you arrested.”

Smiling slowly up at him, Niou said, “Is a fight really a fight if no one from Rikkai is here to see it?”

“True,” Atobe loomed imperiously over his own plush seat, quite determined to have Niou move. “You could spar me next, but there’s the chance I’ll decapitate you entirely by accident.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be having accidents?” he fussed with the arm of Atobe’s chair.

Infuriated, Atobe responded by sitting right on top of Rikkai’s trickster. Much to Atobe’s pleasure, he knocked the wind right out of Niou. Dragon-born were not light.

“How many turkey legs did you eat on the way here?” Niou groaned.

Thrilled with his conquest, Atobe shifted his full weight on Niou’s lap and said, “Oh, more than enough. Let’s just hope that I don’t have an accident, ahn?”

“Now now, children,” Oshitari said, eyes dark with the knowing amusement that made Atobe want to punch him.

With King sort of seated, the event could begin. While Kabaji stood tall and solemn in the center of the area, Yanagi slouched on a bench, curved sword in his lap. The blindfolded counselor had to be poked and prompted to stand up. Atobe was a little impressed that he managed to do so, and further when he walked in the vague direction of Kabaji without stumbling. It was a slow walk, but considering he never saw the man move without a staff, Atobe could appreciate the determination.

Kabaji bowed respectfully to Yanagi. Somehow, Yanagi managed to return the gesture without crumpling to the dirt.

Atobe could read the reluctance in the gentle giant’s form. Usually, his friend preferred baking and caring for the royal chickens to actual battle, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it.

Lifting his enormous sword from the ground, Kabaji swung at Yanagi with surprising speed. As if he knew exactly where the attack would come, Yanagi deftly dodged the blade and stumbled to Kabaji’s open side.

Unfortunately for Yanagi, it wasn’t really open. Kabaji extended his arm, hanging the massive blade over his shoulder to block the bite of the long, curved knife. Despite the clumsy, seemingly random nature of Yanagi’s movements, he managed to dodge every powerful attack sent his way. It was too fortuitous to be chance. Usually this was the point in the match where Kabaji would awe his opponent with an absolute copy of his or her own style.

The problem was that Yanagi didn’t seem to have any, aside from barely ducking the swings of the large blade.

The back-and-forth persisted. Every time it looked like Kabaji trapped Yanagi, the blind man would somehow wriggle himself out of it. Was the counselor truly blind under that cloth?

And then, to even Atobe’s surprise, Kabaji evaded a (entirely too accurate) swing of Yanagi’s sword in that same happenstance manner. Now that his friend copied the move, Atobe clearly saw the advantage. Dodging at the last second in such an unpredictable way forced the opponent to complete the motion fully and, in that moment of complete extension, be vulnerable. Only Kabaji’s considerable reflexes saved him thus far against such a strategy.

However, the battle could not continue if both of them used this technique. One of them had to attack and apparently, it was Yanagi’s turn. He followed Kabaji’s motions as if they were dancing, crafting his attacks to steer the larger man’s into a corner. If he were facing a mere copycat, the match might have been over. Kabaji selected his attack, Ohtori’s turbulent charge, and used his thick sword as a shield to bull his way straight through the opponent.

Yanagi, incredibly, leapt into the air and skated his curved blade up Kabaji’s. The counselor flipped one hundred and eighty degrees in the air to land behind the knight. And in that aerial moment, he knew precisely Kabaji’s location. Yanagi threw out his long legs to push his feet into the small of Kabaji’s back.

Kabaji stumbled and turned with more grace than perhaps anyone else could have managed, but it was too late. Yanagi was there with his sword to Kabaji’s throat.

Sucking in his breath, Atobe held the announcement. He was about to call the match when Yanagi, in a peculiar show of acrobatics, made it for him. The counselor jumped deftly, hopping up the stands to the King’s bench. Before Atobe could come up with anything scathing to say, Yanagi seized Atobe’s chin and stole a demanding kiss for his prize.

Sounds of surprise echoed through the spectator booths, but Atobe couldn’t think about that, not with Yanagi’s lips, irritatingly dry from combat, prying him apart, melting his insides, and spreading a strange, floral taste over his palate.

Yanagi pulled back and smiled a slow, crooked smile. “Puri.”

Atobe swallowed, then reddened with fury as Yanagi’s face gave way, changing shape with the fading sunlight to reveal a white haired man with a mole. “What….”

“You said it yourself, Keigo. A blind man has no hope in battle,” Yanagi spoke quietly in his ear. Atobe shivered to the curl of hot breath and whirled around to see that he had actually been sitting on Yanagi’s lap for the entire match. “My opponent was you, not your champion.”

Atobe leapt up as if he had been sitting on hot coals. “You cheated.”

Tilting his head, Yanagi said, “I should think that cheating the all-knowing King of Hyoutei is more impressive than any swordplay that I could manage at the moment.”

To that, Atobe truly had nothing to say. Yanagi had been under his nose, or rather, under him the entire time and he hadn’t noticed. For all of his planning and watching, he missed the key to winning this battle.

“Besides,” Niou draped himself over Yanagi’s lap. “I was fighting as Yanagi. It’s not like I did anything that he couldn’t do at full strength.”

“You’re heavy, Niou. I can’t feel my legs.”

“Then how do you know that I’m heavy?”

Gritting his teeth, Atobe declared, “Take them to the dungeons!

The guards rushed to obey, despite the conflicted response of the crowd.

“Oohh,” Niou said, not resisting arrest. “I hear your dungeons are really something to look forward to.”

As Yanagi and Niou were dragged away, another guard approached Atobe. “Sire,” he spoke urgently. “United Rikkai has been sighted.”

“Very well, sound the bell,” Atobe spoke with authority. Turning to Hiyoshi in the stands below, he demanded, “Prepare Excidium for battle. Let’s give them a long overdue welcome.”

Chapter Text

Part 4: Burning

“What do you think is happening up there?” Sakuno asked nervously.

“You remember what Yanagi-kun said,” An said. “Just focus on the magic and don’t worry about him.”

Sakuno did remember. When she and An returned to their quarters after breakfast and a walk around the gardens to debrief, Niou of Rikkai had been waiting with instruction from Yanagi. While her blind companion fought Atobe’s champion, she and An were to use the distraction to plumb the depths of Hyoutei for secrets.

She really did not like depths, especially not when they involved impenetrable stone dungeons and fat, bright-eyed rats.

“I think we’re getting closer,” Sakuno swallowed. Once they bypassed the prison corridors via the main artery, the stench of human waste gave way to a total lack of air. Ryoma had once taken her to the top of a mountain on his wings; the air down here made her lungs feel spoiled by that memory.

“Yeah…” An agreed. Her courage led Sakuno past the ornate doors of Oshitari’s quarters toward a more ominous entryway. At least, any entryway blocked by an enormous metal barrier was plenty ominous to earn their suspicion. Even with Sakuno’s dragon-born strength, it took both of them to open the door.

Most likely, as a dragon-born, Atobe was the only person in Hyoutei strong enough to get through that portal.

The door opened slowly, making a horrible cacophonous racket for every inch that it budged. For all the effort to reveal it, the small, stone room was empty save for the jet-black marble pedestal erected in the very center of that space. Sakuno’s eyes locked with the red cloud of flame locked in by the huge, translucent orb upon the pillar.

“Well, well, I guess Yuushi did have a good reason for asking me to wait around his rooms during the big fight.”

Sakuno jumped in fright. An put herself in front of Sakuno and accused venomously, “Mukahi, what is this place?”

“Not something I’m going to explain to you,” Mukahi drew his sword. “Come quietly with me and maybe King Atobe will let you live.”

Trembling, Sakuno nodded to obey. What could she do? She didn’t even know what the orb was; it seemed wiser to live on to give the secret to someone like Yanagi, who always knew what to do.

An didn’t agree. She drew a long, black knife from her skirts and said, “Who knew that these dresses would prove so useful?”

“An-chan!” she exclaimed, too late.

The onyx handle of her sword glimmered faintly as she engineered her attack to no effect; Mukahi was fast and unpredictable. Not even An, highly-trained and light on her feet, could keep up with his strange flips and complete backbends. But, Mukahi’s creative, flexible offense couldn’t seem to touch her either.

“Run, Sakuno!” An grimaced, catching Mukahi’s blow just barely with the flat of her sword. “You have to reach someone!”

Sakuno wished that weren’t true. She looked from the fire blazing in An’s eyes to the one trapped in the strange stoneglass.

“You have to tell someone!” An insisted again, screaming when one of Mukahi’s feet caught her shoulder.

“I think not!” Mukahi insisted. The redhead gave chase and Sakuno ran. He dove and, at the last moment, caught her feet with his hand.

As she fell, she cried, and as she cried, her flailing elbow made chance contact with the black marble. Under the dragon-born blow, the pedestal rocked.

“No!” Mukahi shrieked. He stumbled on his feet, desperate to catch the orb before it fell. The burning ball struck the ground just beyond the reach of his fingertips and shattered.

Magic unleashed, the whole room erupted into flame.

—

Two armies stared each other down from opposite banks of the fully frozen river Fortuna. The icicle fangs of the Great Falls hung ominously between them. Though Rikkai had two thousand highly trained combatants on horseback, the forces of Hyoutei were at least five thousand strong on the ground, not counting those waiting behind the castle gates or arming the towers of the keep with arrows and catapults. While one side fought for their friend, the other fought for their home and freedom. One of them would lose.

The Kings smiled at each other; the ice seemed to thicken as they rode out to meet at the center of the large river. Sanada glared daggers at a nonchalant Oshitari while Hiyoshi and Yagyuu silently sized each other up.

“How wonderful to see you, Keigo,” Yukimura said.

“I wish I could say the same,” Atobe drawled. “Unfortunately you’ve come at a bad time. I was quite busy putting your dear counselor to the test.”

Sanada spurred his horse forward, getting in Atobe’s face, “Give him back.”

“Oh, certainly,” Atobe smirked. “Though I imagine he’ll have perished by the time you get to him.”

“Our dungeons are rather cold, you see,” Oshitari said, pulling Sanada’s attention from Atobe. “The chill would have exacerbated whatever misfortune had befallen him.”

“All we want is one of our own safe and whole,” Yukimura said. If not for the scalding look in his eyes, he could almost be mistaken for calm.

“Which you are perfectly entitled to, so long as that desire doesn’t infringe on either my freedom or the safety of my people.”

“So, we will not reach agreement.”

“The winner will be Hyoutei,” Atobe insisted. Behind him, the enormous army cheered. Yukimura’s forces, though smaller, returned the noise with just as much force. The ice seemed to tremble at the very sound.

But the trembling continued and evolved into shaking. The six men on the river struggled to calm their horses through the rumbling. The soldiers shouted amongst themselves, helping each other and making sure that no cavalry rampage occurred by accident.

“Earthquake!”

“Stay calm!”

It was hard to stay calm when the shaking didn’t stop. Dark clouds pulled closer in the night sky and the tremors increased, splitting and shifting the terrain of the ice into sharp, mountainous peaks and dark, deep crevasses. There was no water to be seen. Just an empty void and an unspeakable heaviness, like the darkness had reached out and bound every soul with its own private anchor to its depths.

“…No,” Atobe sucked in his breath and gritted his teeth. “No.”

“It can’t be…” Hiyoshi clutched his spear tighter.

“It has been activated,” Oshitari said, eerily serious. “And not by us.”

“What is the meaning of this?!” Sanada demanded. No one answered.

A deathly blue rotted hand thrust out from a crevasse and clawed at the surface of the river. Gathering his strength, Atobe leapt from Excidium and looked down the chasm and into the empty eyes of the decomposing, dead King Sakaki. The carcass screamed and pulled itself up by a hand on Atobe’s neck.

“Keigo!”

“The King!”

Fighting down bile, Atobe shouted, “For Hyoutei!” and threw the corpse back into the abyss. Throwing his head over his shoulder at the invading army, he implored, “Run, you Rikkai idiots.”

Even Yukimura went pale with fright as the skeletons, in various states of decomposition, crawled up from the cavities. They poured up from the ground like ants from a broken hill and soon, there would be nowhere to run from them.

—

The flames licked at her body, yet she wasn’t burning. Terrified, Sakuno panted against An’s hair as the moments, minutes or hours, passed. The ground beneath them rumbled with such force that she thought the whole castle might come down on top of them. She had thrown herself over the Princess to protect her with the strength of her dragon-born body.

When Sakuno dared to open her eyes, she saw that the flames had disappeared. “An-chan…” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

To Sakuno’s relief, An drew her into a hug. “I’m just fine,” she said. “Thank you.” The embrace succeeded in melting Sakuno. She lingered and clung, snuffling at An’s shoulder as the ground shook beneath them, quite beyond distress.

“What about him?” An said, looking over Sakuno’s shoulder at Mukahi.

Slowly, they stood together. An kneeled to take the redhead’s pulse. Though they had been fighting vigorously not too long ago, she said with relief, “He’s alive. Just knocked out, I think.”

“Thank goodness,” Sakuno said. Her gaze shifted from Mukahi to the broken shards of what used to be the orb. Now, it looked like ordinary glass. Voice thick with fear, she asked, “What’s happening…?”

An looped an arm in with Sakuno. Even as the ground trembled, An’s grip held firm. “I don’t know,” An said. “But we have to warn someone.”

“We can try to find Renji,” Sakuno said, reaching for the only solution she knew, since Tezuka wasn’t around to ask.

“It’s useless…” Mukahi coughed and failed to rise. “There’s no one to wield the power. They can’t be controlled.”

“Who can’t be controlled?” An demanded to know. Mukahi, half-conscious, didn’t respond. They shook him together and he stirred for just another moment. “Who?!” An said repeated.

Mukahi’s lashes fluttered and his mouth twisted. He wanted to respond, but he hadn’t the strength. “Hyoutei…reserve forces,” he managed and conked out completely.

“We have to get him somewhere safe,” An said.

Sakuno nodded, “Right.” As if he weighed nothing whatsoever, she lifted up the Hyoutei soldier and flung him over his shoulder. An stared and Sakuno blushed, “What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned. It was sunlight in the quivering darkness. “I just always forget that you can do that.”

Together they ran back the way they came. Hoping that Mukahi would be safe there, they left him in Oshitari’s sitting room. As they passed the rank archways that led to the prison cells, An and Sakuno ran faster, hand and hand, past the hollering captives.

At least, until Sakuno tripped on a bit of elevated stone and fell flat on her face.
“Sakuno-chan! Are you all right?” An stopped to check her out.

Sakuno groaned; she didn’t appreciate the earth vibrating against her nose. The whole world was opening up and underground was the last place that she wanted to be. Why did these things keep happening to her? As she picked herself slowly up off of the ground, she spotted something; just behind An’s ear, Niou was sticking out his tongue and turning up his eyelids at them.

“Niou-san!” she shouted, euphoric at the sliver of hope. An swiveled her head to behold the same sight.

The girls got up together and entered the corridor. The jeers of other prisoners were nothing to the sight of Niou and Yanagi, in adjacent cells, one waiting patiently and the other, propped against the wall and fighting for breath.

“Ladies,” Niou bowed. “Welcome to the end of the world.”

“You know what’s happening?!”

“Haven’t the foggiest. Dataman?”

Yanagi was silent. Niou reached a foot through the bars to prod Yanagi awake.

“Renji,” Sakuno said softly. The bars of the cell rattled with the tremors of the earth, but she refused to be intimidated, not now, not while there was hope of escaping this situation alive with An.

“Hmm,” Yanagi frowned, as if he just noticed the massive earthquake.

“Renji, we need you to pay attention,” Sakuno insisted. “Renji.”

Niou, quite inexplicably, ignored the fuss and closed his eyes. Perhaps he was ready to give up, but Sakuno wasn’t.

—

An enormous skeleton loomed behind Atobe Keigo, King of Hyoutei, but he could not turn around for the three he fought at his front. Hiyoshi rushed for his King’s back; Yukimura beat him there. One mighty strike of Yukimura’s rapier severed the skeleton’s spine, forcing its top half to swing down and ajar like the most foul snapped branch.

Not that this stopped the carcass from fighting. The thing made to stab Yukimura in the foot. Before it could do so, Atobe swung his broadsword toward the ground, sending the corpse careening back to whence it came.

“I told you to run,” Atobe said breathlessly, back to Yukimura’s.

The King of United Rikkai grinned. “And miss this party?”

Yagyuu neatly skewered two corpses together on an icicle; with a powerful kick to that makeshift sword, Sanada scattered the bones. “It would be rude, after you took such trouble to draft up the invitation,” the gentleman said.

“Hn,” Sanada added, and brought down a rain of cartilage with one protective blow. On his other side, Kabaji was extremely impressive with his twin-axe massacre; the dead collected and reassembled at their feet.

“I assure you, these nightmares did not RVSP to this party,” Oshitari tripped a corpse on its way to behead Yagyuu and redirected it to its own kin. After a brief, confused, and very dead tussle, that fight was sent back down the chasm by a solid whack of the Hyoutei counselor’s spear.

“What poor manners.”

“We should dispose of them posthaste.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Yagyuu and Oshitari fought side by side, ridding their space of the undesirable party crashers. Yagyuu’s efficient, close quarters knifework combined well with the wide range of Oshitari’s spear. They defended systematically, with Yagyuu’s quick, aggressive strikes cutting down their opponents and Oshitari keeping the rest at bay long enough for him to do so.

The two kingdoms and their respective armies kept death at bay on the river. For hours they battled, exhausted but determined against the endless tide. Arrows were ineffective, but Hyoutei’s catapults rained fury down onto the frozen battlefield. Their strategy and execution was flawless, but every skeleton they didn’t decimate completely crawled back up the crevasse, eager for a taste of life. The beings didn’t care what life. They only longed to destroy everything that lived.

Yukimura had never known any situation so hopeless. He refused to die here like this. He refused to let anyone he cared about die here like this, not even Atobe, not even the troops of Hyoutei, who had impressed him with their determination. No matter what fatigue plagued his body, as long as he had the strength to stand, he would fight with every breath.

“Yukimura!” Kirihara shrieked.

Lurching around to confirm his ears, Yukimura beheld Kirihara and the rest of his army, Rikkai crests and Shitenhouji helmets yellow in the darkness. He heard his name called again from farther downriver and spotted Marui and his tell-tale shock of pink hair riding toward him with Akutagawa and his troops from the border. Reinforcements had arrived; their dawn would come.

—

“Yanagi-san!”

“Renji…”

“Hnn…” Yanagi stirred and attempted to open his eyes. A few moments later, his brain recalled that he could no longer do so. “Yes?”

It was strange. Sakuno sounded so distant. He tried to calculate her exact distance, but found that he couldn’t sense her presence, or feel much at all, for that matter. There was only the cold, the cold settled deep in his bones. Only his memory informed him that he was somewhere in Hyoutei’s dungeons, waiting to die.

Though perhaps some small, crazy, illogical part of him had thought that he might survive somehow. That he’d wake up and argue with Yukimura at breakfast, spar with Sanada, and smack Kirihara upside the head when he failed to read a map correctly. That maybe he would have the opportunity to behold Sakuno and fully thank her. The tiniest, narrowest possibility that he could watch the colors cross Atobe’s infuriated face ticked down to zero. Those irrational hopes were distracting. Just because there was no tomorrow for him didn’t mean that the future was out of reach for anyone else. He forced his floating mind into the present.

“Renji…Renji can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he said, finding his voice. “Tell me, what did you find?”

“We….we set off the magic,” Sakuno cried, panicked. “I don’t know…it was a ball. A big glass ball.”

“It was filled with fire,” An supplied desperately.

“We knocked it over. I knocked it over. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-”

“I had hoped that you’d stop apologizing to me by now,” Yanagi said, weakly lifting his hand in the direction of her voice. Faintly, he felt her warmth. She must have grasped it.

Finding the courage to continue, Sakuno said, “It broke when I knocked it over. The ground caught fire. Everything was fire but we didn’t burn…”

Yanagi frowned, considering the possibilities.

“And everything started to shake.”

Right, the shaking — though only very loose strings tied Yanagi to his own body, he could still feel the malignant tremors.

“The orb that you saw is a magical storage device. It contained the life energy from the burning fields that we saw,” Yanagi said.

“So…it’s Hyoutei’s magic, shaking the castle?”

The pieces were connecting slowly in Yanagi’s mind, too slowly for his own liking. All of the literature he consumed on such matters suggested that it wasn’t quite so simple; magic required channeling, or the life force would return simply to the earth. If the stored magic were simply released, they would not feel the result.

“Yes and no. Wild magic would have taken on the form of its destruction and actually killed you. This magic went to a purpose; that orb must have been spelled, waiting for someone to wield it.”

“What purpose?” An implored.

“And who?!”

Yanagi remained silent, turning over the facts, new, old, and foreseen like glimmering slabs of river stone.

“Hiroshi is here,” Niou explained. That fact fell to Yanagi’s pile with a resounding clack.

“You were awake?” An said, puzzled.

“Just shooting the breeze with a friend,” Niou said, acidly.

Yanagi reached for the information in his grasp and vocally turned that last bit of stone, “What does he see?”

Niou channeled Yagyuu’s voice and answered word for word, “We fight an army of Hyoutei’s dead on the river Fortuna. The corpses are attacking indiscriminately.”

In his mind’s eye, he stood on the bank of the frozen river with Yukimura, with Atobe, with the two armies become one. Yanagi stared at the vast, multi-colored display of details, events, characters, and uncategorizable important nothings cast carelessly on the shore. Except it wasn’t careless. It was fate. All of the players, all of the pieces, all of the bits and pieces of information from the last century culminated in this setting, creating the stage for his final battle.

Yukimura, Ryoma. Atobe. Him. Her, Fortune, Her, Fortuna. Fortune to cauterize. Burn. Burn and heal. Luck, Sakuno. The cycle of Greed. Fortune to bear a Kingdom’s despair. The gauntlet. He knew about the gauntlet and he knew who had to wear it, but that was not enough of an answer…

As he divined the truth from the known, a battle carried on behind him. A battle he could only imagine because he was in no shape to fight. He imagined the colors and flags of United Rikkai and Hyoutei haphazardly knitted into each other, for who could care about Kingdom when death waged war on them all? This was no longer about power. No longer about greed.

Greed. Cauterize the cycle of greed.

The first greed of the dragon-born. What had been the punishment?

The evidence was all around him. What misery had they wrecked to burn away? Yanagi understood. He had pulled all the pieces, all the players here for a reason. The elements collided precisely where they had for a reason. He understood the next step of the prophecy.

“Niou,” Yanagi ordered. “I need you to lead Sakuno to the Hyoutei treasury and get her to the river. Can you do this?”

“Sure thing,” Niou said. Yanagi wondered if those would be the last words he ever heard of Niou Masaharu.

“What’s in the treasury?” Sakuno said, not understanding.

“You must wear the gauntlet and get to the river.”

“Get to the river to do what?”

“In the middle of the fighting?!” An protested.

Yanagi nodded once. “Release the power that only you have.”

“Release my…You…you knew. That I was a dragon-born.”

“From the start, yes,” Yanagi admitted, breathing deeply. His connection to reality grew ever tenuous.

“And you haven’t…I…I might have used my fire on…”

“Tezuka rightly forbid you to do so, yes?”

“Mmm…” she agreed, and desperately added. “But for you…”

“No, fortune does not belong only to me,” Yanagi insisted. “To have met you and come this far was luck enough for this man.”

“What about you?” Sakuno sobbed. Yanagi could tell that she was crying – sweet girl. “Renji, I don’t know what to do.”

Imploring his lips to smile one last time, he said, “You know what happens after the cicada comes from the ground, don’t you?”

Sakuno whimpered. As usual, she understood and didn’t understand all at the same time. Yanagi preferred it that way.

“Now, do as I say. Control the gauntlet’s power with your own and melt away the horror that has come upon this land….” Yanagi rasped. “Niou will lead the way. Princess…you will have to switch with him…”

The girls gasped; Yanagi assumed that Niou had worked his magic to trade places and faces. His ears followed their footsteps and his thoughts wished them success.

“…How…” An asked him with Niou’s voice. He could barely hear her.

“Unfortunately, Princess,” Yanagi’s very soul quieted. “I do not…have the breath to tell that story…”

“Yanagi-kun!”

It was enough, enough to have won his small part of this battle. When nothingness came upon him, Yanagi welcomed it.

—

The only fortunate thing about emptying the castle of soldiers was that it left none to guard the treasury. Any other time, Sakuno might have admired the piles of gold, silver, and endless multi-colored, many-faced gems, but right now she made a beeline for the terrifying object; having witnessed its awful power firsthand, she recognized its pull as she drew nearer. Even among the chaos, among the stench of death, the dragon relic had a distinct signature.

Why did Yanagi think that she could resist it? Her element was fortune, but really, it seemed that she only attracted bad luck.

Niou ran silently beside her; she had never noticed before, but somehow, he didn’t have any footsteps.

But that wasn’t important. Not with the gauntlet in her sights. She stopped short and stared at it on the dais. It was still beyond her how Yanagi, though not dragon-born, managed to carry something so horrible and oppressive.

She walked to it slowly, fearfully. A laugh from Niou, now himself again, stopped her in her tracks. Infuriated, she turned around to glare at him.

“What part of this is funny?!” she shouted. Normally she would never raise her voice to anyone, especially not a soldier of a different country, but all the pressure on her narrow shoulders had to explode somewhere.

“Nothing,” Niou grinned, twirling his rat-tail around his finger. Being in the depths of a crumbling castle didn’t seem to bother him whatsoever. “It’s just that I haven’t seen anyone so scared to meet a relative since I introduced Hiroshi to my mom.”

Sakuno’s anger crumbled, confusion taking its place. “Relative…”

“That’s what a relic is, right? Dragon-bones? Scales? Whatever.”

She had never really considered that. Then again, she didn’t want to associate personally with something that had wrecked so much destruction. But was that not the history of her kind? Using their ancestry to sate their greed?

Was…was that not the very history that Yanagi was asking her to repair?

The relic was not just a source of power; it was a connection to something long lost. When she resumed her approach, she did so with confidence. She armed herself with the warm memories of those who had protected her: her grandmother, Oishi, Kawamura, Tezuka, An, Tomoka, Renji…

Fixing the gauntlet on her tiny arm, she said, “I’m going to set you free.”

Niou grinned. “It looks terrible on you.”

With a huff, she said, “I don’t care.”

“Suit yourself,” Niou picked up one of Atobe’s several dozen crowns and placed it on his own head. “Now let’s get out of here.”

—

“The dawn is coming,” Tezuka said, disturbingly calm for a man dangling thousands of feet above the ground.

Echizen responded with a groan, “Lose weight.” His dark green wings beat heavily to get them closer to Hyoutei, which was masked by thick, dark clouds. Would they even be able to see the sun when it decided to rise?

“I suppose I shouldn’t have thought so highly of your strength,” Tezuka said simply.

Tezuka felt Echizen’s arms tighten around him. Good. Though Tezuka didn’t really think lowly of Echizen’s quite considerable strength, he found that goading the young man fed his determination. “I haven’t dropped you yet,” the smaller dragon-born remarked.

And it was impressive that he hadn’t, not that Tezuka would ever say as much. Echizen was doing what he had to do.

“Even if you did, I promise that I would live long enough to tell your husband.”

“Hn.”

“Are you worried about him?”

“That asshole isn’t so easy to kill.”

Nonetheless, Echizen flew impossibly faster, cutting straight through a turbulent cloud. For a long moment, Tezuka thought Echizen had, in fact, dropped him. The wind had simply pushed them so hard that it felt like they were falling. This was his domain, not Echizen’s. Thrusting out a hand, Tezuka willed the wind in the other direction to lift the younger man’s wings and spur them forward.

“…I was handling it,” Echizen said.

“Of course you were,” said Tezuka, looking down on the ghastly conflict below. It was worse than he thought.

Closing his eyes, Tezuka mentally recited a prayer for his ward’s fortune.

—

Armed with double blades, Niou charged onto the fray. Sakuno watched his knives carve a way for them through the mottled, disgusting corpses that were too terrifying to have even entered her wildest dreams. She followed Niou around the fresh, mingled dead of Rikkai and Hyoutei, kicking bones as she ran aimlessly. She didn’t know where Niou was going, but followed him because she had nowhere else to go.

Control the gauntlet’s power with your own and melt away the horror that has come upon this land, Yanagi’s words echoed through her head. If these undead soldiers weren’t the worst thing to happen to this land, she didn’t know what. But did fire really have the power to end them?

She screamed and ducked a carcass’ wild swing. In doing so, she stumbled and slid along the ice. The arm not protected by the gauntlet burned, scraped roughly over the jagged ice. It seemed impossible that ice could hold up the weight of armies, but ice was more sure than ground. Even the frozen cascade of daggers overhead, the Great Falls, had been frozen for the last hundred years.

Melt away the horror…

Melt. Her fire had the power to melt. The walking dead were perverted and wrong, but a symptom to a much greater problem. The land itself, since the death of her revered ancestor, refused to sustain them all. Only the greedy could survive in this world.

“I’ll set you free…” she whispered, fingers clawing at the ice. “I’ll warm the earth as you once did. End this fighting here and now.”

The gauntlet, as if on fire itself, burned with heartening warmth.

The very moment she stood, four corpses ran to her at full power, their empty maws hung open in a permanent scream. Within seconds, they were crushed into the solid ground under the feet of Tooyama Kintarou. “You won’t hurt the pretty lady!” he hollered, yanking her up and throwing her onward.

Propelled forward by his strength, her feet bit down on the river. She ran forward, eyes fixed on the frozen waterfall, thrice as tall as Hyoutei’s tallest tower and wider than the entire castle.

“Sakuno-chan!”

On her left, Shiraishi stared at her in great surprise. Surely, his eyes were fixed on the gauntlet. Before she could even ask his help, the King surged forward, clearing a path with a series of blows she could barely follow. He winked at her as she ran past, and she did her utmost to not visualize him naked.

Only by the power of her friends did she work her way into the thick of the fighting. Akutagawa and Marui pushed her through, Yuuji and Koharu did some strange attempt to distract the corpses while Zaizen bopped them back into the ravine, and the familiar faces of every guard she encountered shielded her from harm

Sakuno was relieved to find Niou again. She called out to him, because he was the only one who knew of her mission. But that one moment was too long to pause.

“Seigaku’s Ryuuzaki Sakuno, ahn?” she whirled around to see King Atobe holding the blows of four different skeletons that would’ve dashed her to bits. “Back to the keep. Nothing will touch you while I still stand.”

Shaking her head vigorously, she said, “I must get to the Great Falls.”

Perplexed, Atobe continued to fight. “It’s not safe. Tezuka would be furious if I let his ward come to harm.”

Squaring her jaw, she countered, “Kunimitsu would be furious if you kept me from my duty.”

Somewhere in his state of shock, Atobe had the presence of mind to note her accessory. Niou took advantage of that distraction to pinch his bottom. Atobe’s yelp of affront managed to be louder than the screams of the dead.

“Keep her safe then,” he said to Atobe, and shoved them forward. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, prompting the soldiers of Rikkai to form a wall behind them. The last Sakuno saw of him, he barreled into the impressive Oshitari and Yagyuu combination with the strangest war cry she had ever heard.

“To me!” Yukimura shouted, preparing his wall of men for a charge.

Sakuno wondered what monsters these soldiers had to be, to fight this ferociously all through the night. But it was no longer night. The dawn came to greet them, and reflected harshly on Sakuno from the thousands of frozen bayonets pointing down at her from on high.

She left Atobe behind. Alone, he took out whatever sorry skeleton managed to creep past Yukimura’s wall of death. The two Kings would not permit any interruption. Whatever she had to do, she only had now to do it. All of her friends were fighting for everything good left in the world, and now it was her turn.

“Together, Sumire,” she placed her opposite hand on the gauntlet, threw her head back, and screamed. She screamed with every ounce of love and fear, with every emotion that she ever had, until passion roiled up inside and released instinctively from her heart in a magnificent wave of fire. The ice shook and softened, first fracturing and crying in small streams. Then, almost all at once, the waters joined together to rebel against her. Through the fear she might be crushed, the knowledge that the ground softening beneath her would cave, she fed the fire with her fervent devotion. She roared through the strange grip that brought her feet up into the air until all her heart went empty.

“Not bad, pigtails.”

Sakuno rolled her head back to see Ryoma, wings unfurled and holding her aloft before a wall of water.

Wall of water?!

More urgently, she looked down to see something almost as impossible as what she had just done. Tezuka Kunimitsu, holding up the world on the wind. Wind pushed out from his hands to hold and morph the giant and growing sphere of boiling water from the falls. Men ran before the sight, leaving the corpses to be reburied and blistered.

“Kunimitsu!” she screamed, but no sound emerged. Despite her hoarse screaming, Ryoma climbed higher in the sky. She looked down on Tezuka and the tons of water held up by his strength, exposing the cliff behind it. The last thing she saw before he let go were Atobe and Yukimura running for Tezuka. When the world of water gave way, it swept them along with it.

Sakuno clung to Ryoma and cried.

“It’s not done yet,” he promised.

—

The Night of the Dead would surely go down in the legend as one of the greatest battles of its time. That was not the reason that Fuji was so sore to have missed it. All the same, he didn’t have to take part to witness the shifting of the ages, what that historical event that he had prompted along triggered. Boiling water from the Great Falls pushed through, eating away at the river of ice. The powerful stream pushed on from Hyoutei, warming the waters out into the rest of the continent. Fuji saw all the evidence of this on his way to the former ice capital; it was too soon to tell what the full effect would be, but already, the world seemed warmer for it.

“Well, this marks the first of an occasion,” Fuji said, much later, when he had been seated in the healing rooms.

“And what’s that?” An asked, grinning at him. She had Kippei’s smile. Since that smile was safe, Fuji supposed that the citizens of Hyoutei could keep their hands.

“The first time that anyone was glad to see Ryoma catchphrase proven right,” Seigaku’s adviser smiled from his chair next to Tezuka’s bed. Ward and guardian slept side by side, restoring their energy with rest.

“Shut up,” Ryoma grumbled, throwing a sweat-soaked towel at Fuji. Exhausted, he curled closer to Yukimura, who had been passing in and out of consciousness for the last few hours. As such, the relieved Echizen was more interested in guarding his healing sleep than responding to Fuji’s barbs.

However, no one had been happier than Kabaji Munehiro when Atobe popped his stubborn, silvery head above the water. Fuji had arrived just in time to see the man howl and leap into the warm river. Sanada followed him and the three Kings were dragged safely ashore, in varying states of awareness.

Atobe had even been energetic enough to smack Oshitari when his counselor thanked the gods for making his King so full of hot air that he floated, despite his weight. For some reason, this made Fuji miss Kippei all the more. His dear husband had stayed behind to keep watch over both Seigaku and Fudomine.

Only Fuji noticed when King Atobe, who was certainly battered, but not down and out, covertly slipped from the healing rooms. Fuji smiled to himself and informed the healers that he had absolutely no idea where the King had gone.

—

Shrouded in a cloak of dark velvet, Atobe walked through his crumbling castle. The damages from the attack and the earthquake had been severe. Large chunks of limestone had tumbled to the ground, smashing through homes and leaving gaping holes in his Keep. A tower had collapsed in its entirety; fortunately, there were few casualties from the wreckage. Most of his population had the good sense to take refuge in the castle’s foundation, which held up surprisingly well. The restored falls and flowing river, now soothingly audible from his castle, had actually done more damage. Water and dirt seeped through the cracks in the rock, muddying his dungeon.

Well, it was appropriately uncomfortable and terrifying for a dungeon. All the same, his architects would have to ensure they wouldn’t all be done in by a bit of mud. A bit of mud and heat. Even after all of that, the river maintained the temperature of bathwater. Steam from the river licked at the air, claiming all of its particles and leaving none for Atobe to keep his name as the Ice King. If he had no actual ice to back him up, he would just have to support that claim entirely with character.

Standing before the fallen Yanagi’s cell, Atobe released his cloak at the neck, letting flow down his back in waves and into the mud. Atobe wasn’t sure whether to blame Yanagi for the devastation or to thank him for the fact that he still had a castle at all. But that was irrelevant — it was certainly Yanagi who made this new age of warmth and potential possible.

He entered the puddle of Yanagi’s cell and knelt at his side to feel for a pulse. The barest flutter pulsed to his finger.

“You had better not waste this,” he said to the blind, deaf, and dying Yanagi.

Atobe bowed his head close to Yanagi, such that they were nearly nose and nose, and pursed his lips into a round, delicate shape. Unlike Sakuno’s great roar, Atobe exhaled a small, life giving breath. The beautiful flames of translucent blue passed through Atobe’s parted lips to ignite Yanagi almost immediately. Pleased and awed by his own power, Atobe watched the fire spread over the counselor for a beautiful, elegant death.

“Rise, Yanagi Renji,” Atobe said, as he did so himself. “And take responsibility for what you have done.”

With that, Atobe turned and left the dungeon. United Rikkai would have no angle whatsoever to consider Hyoutei in their debt.

—

“Are you sure that there’s actually something here?” Echizen said tersely. Though his wings had not quite recovered from the massive strain of cross-kingdom travel, here he was flying the half-infirm Sakuno and Tezuka to the falls.

“I saw it…I’m not sure what. An opening, in the moment the ice gave way to water.”

“Not much longer,” Tezuka assured him. And that was a damn good thing, because if he had to hold up the weight of two dragon-born much farther, they would all tumble into the bathwater.

“Good, otherwise, you’re in for another swim.”

“Your husband fought off hundreds of undead but you can’t bear the weight of two people?”

Echizen pushed his lips together in irritation. If anything, he was more irritated when Sakuno patted him and said, “You’re doing a great job.”

Now it was Tezuka’s turn. Harnessing the wind to his hand, he diverted the path of the water at one point, parting the pounding flow to either side like liquid curtains. Echizen flew straight through. Just as Sakuno described, there was a cave.

“Watch there be more dead things,” Echizen said, dropping his two burdens lightly.

But there were no dead things. Just a giant, inexplicable circle of old twigs.

“This was Sumire’s nest, many years ago,” Tezuka said, processing the information before him.

The one to actually step into the enormous nest was Sakuno. The twigs and hay, hard from a thousand years of ice, crunched under her feet. What she saw in the deepest pit of the nest blew her eyes out wide with surprise.

“A…a…a….” she stuttered, unable to speak until Tezuka put a hand on her shoulder.

“After so long, it may not be alive,” Tezuka said.

But it also might be. “I promised…” Sakuno spoke softly. “I promised that I would set her free.” Wary, she crossed the small distance between her and the enormous egg. It was as tall as she was and three times as wide. She swallowed thickly and dared to lay a hand on their legacy.

Tezuka and Echizen stared, transfixed.

“It’s…warm,” Sakuno said, voice thick with relief.

While Echizen grinned, excited, concern polluted Tezuka’s joy.

“We must inform the Kings,” he said.

Sakuno shook her head and held the egg possessively. She was, after all, a dragon-born. “Would it not start another war, Kunimitsu?”

Tezuka shook his head. “If Seigaku had not kept quite so many secrets, perhaps we might have figured this out a long time ago.”

“We could just make a giant omelet,” Echizen said. Sakuno shouted and clung to the egg tighter. Tezuka fixed Echizen with a raised brow. “I’m kidding. You know I hate fried eggs.”

“The waterfall will keep it warm for now,” Tezuka sighed. “Now that all of the Kings have come to, we’ll call a meeting.”

—

Ryoma crawled into bed with Yukimura.

“Did you have fun?” Yukimura said, winding his fingers a little viciously in Echizen’s hair. “Carrying everyone around the world except for me.”

Groaning, Ryoma said, “You had the exciting job, fighting an army of undead and getting crushed under a million tons of bathwater. Yet you still stink, how is that?”

Yukimura gave him a noogie for that comment. The vigorous scalp rubbing ceased with the knock on the door. Yukimura looked up, expecting Tezuka to call him for the council they mentioned, but instead he gasped, “Renji.”

Yanagi smiled that little grin of his and bowed. When he unfolded, his narrow eyes were open and ever so amused.

“Renji…” Yukimura repeated. “You….your hair looks terrible.”

“I don’t know, the bowl cut might grow on me,” Yanagi said, taking a seat by Yukimura’s bed.

“So Atobe did it after all,” the knot in Yukimura’s stomach unwound. He had never known such deep reaching relief.

“That would be my inference,” Yanagi said. “I woke up alone.”

“How do you feel?”

“Relieved, more than anything else.”

“Don’t be so surprised,” Sanada entered the room, hands reaching over the chair to land on Yanagi’s shoulders. “Your plans have brought about seemingly impossible victories before.”

Smiling serenely at his friend, Yanagi said, “This victory is not mine, or even Rikkai’s. After all, it’s been in the works for a thousand years. Many things had to happen that I could not have possibly predicted.”

Chuckling, Yukimura said, “Just be satisfied, Renji.”

But Yanagi was looking beyond Yukimura, to the shy Sakuno waiting in the entrance of the healing rooms. “I am,” he said, directly to her. “I’m an incredibly lucky man.”

“We all are,” Yukimura agreed.

—

The council of the dragon egg was a long and loud event. They sat together in Hyoutei’s largest receiving room, which somehow maintained its dignity despite the random rubble and shards of glass. The staff had even managed to put together a decent lunch, which shifted everyone in better spirits to stop blaming each other for what had happened.

“All Kingdoms are equally to blame,” Tezuka said, “Equal in greed and equal in credit.”

There were a few who protested this assessment. Yanagi spoke to support Tezuka, “I agree. We must conclude this to move forward to the true purpose of this council.”

Yanagi gestured toward Sakuno, who sat quietly between Tezuka and Princess An. Her eyes went wide with shock, so surprised that she was asked to speak that she let out an undignified little sound. Politely ignoring this, Yanagi continued, “Please tell us what you found, my Lady.”

Sakuno gulped and stood, nervous until she took a real look around at all of the people who defended her with their lives on the frozen river. Shiraishi winked, Niou made a horrible face, and An looked up at her with pride. She felt that strength, and peered to Yanagi once more for reassurance. Breathing deep she attempted, “We…Kunimitsu…King Tezuka and Ry-Echizen…looked behind the Great Falls.”

She paused, half incredulous that they were actually listening to her.

“And?” Atobe drawled from the head of the table, prompting her forward. Even his gaze was not one of contempt, but almost amusement.

Continuing, she blurted out, “It was a nest. Sumire’s nest. She left an egg.”

Shiraishi said, “Surely it is dead by now.”

Oshitari hummed and said, “Not necessarily. Dragon eggs are said to be thick as stone with no predictable hatching time. It may have waited out the ice.”

“Then surely, alive or dead, it belongs to Hyoutei,” Atobe said. “It was found on our lands.”

“Can you really say that, after your army of the dead nearly killed us all?”

“My army of the dead? You heard the account from Princess An. We did not launch this army, merely prepared it as a backup for your unreasonable campaign against Hyoutei.”

“According to the most ancient maps,” Yanagi said, interrupting the argument. “The Great Falls and the cliffs above used to belong to no country, just the dragons.”

Atobe hmphed. Though the King did not seem to appreciate the contested claim on his land, he hadn’t exactly been able to do anything with the cliffs and frozen falls either. “The territory of the river immediately beneath the falls is unquestionably Hyoutei.” His terrifying glare dared anyone to say otherwise. No one did.

Only Tezuka dared follow that comment, “I propose that the dragon egg travel among our kingdoms in the care of someone without country. That way, if it should hatch, it will know a home amongst all of us.”

The Kings were silent for a long moment, considering this.

“I am in favor,” Yukimura said. Otherwise, he had no legitimate claim to the egg.

“Be awed by my generosity,” Atobe waved his agreement.

Shiraishi nodded, “We would be happy to welcome the egg and its party to Shitenhouji, but who can bear it?”

“There is one I would nominate,” Tezuka said, “But first.”

Before the council, he rose and faced Sakuno, who still stood, quivering anxiously about the fate of the egg she had come to see as hers.

When Tezuka spoke again, it was with the booming, royal tone he reserved for battle. “Ryuuzaki Sakuno.”

She startled, straightening under his address. “Y-yes.”

“I hereby disown you as my ward,” there were a few gasps of surprise. “You now have no rights to my lineage and my home is no longer yours. I revoke your passports and any money that I have safeguarded in your name will be transferred immediately.”

Silence overcame the boisterous council room. Tears flooded Sakuno’s eyes. Her small hands shook. Unable to hold back her emotions, she surged forward and wrapped her arms around Tezuka to bury her crying face in his jerkin. “Thank you,” she spoke quietly, only to him. “Thank you, Kunimitsu. For everything.”

Tezuka’s hand settled atop her head. The uncontestable nomination didn’t even have to be voiced. Not one King protested the lady’s reward.

—

Several important things weighed on Yanagi’s mind as he left the council room. It took some time to pry the joyous Kirihara from his side, but once he did so, he employed his long, healthy legs to catch up with Seigaku’s Fuji.

“Fuji-san,” he spoke. The counselor slowed his pace, expecting Yanagi to catch up and walk with him, which he did.

“I rarely go by that name anymore. You may call me Syuusuke,” he said with an eerie sort of smile.

That smile almost answered Yanagi’s question for him. Though Fuji had been the one to spur the war on Hyoutei, he did not seem particularly disappointed for the relatively peaceful conclusion. With his newfound strength amplifying his ability to calculate odds and possibilities, he could tell that Fuji, however off his expressions might seem, was not lying in his joy.

“When you advised Seiichi to attack Hyoutei’s western gate, did you know all of this was going to happen?”

Fuji opened his eyes. The corners of his lips tightened into a sharper, almost predatory smile. “I wonder.”

As if that were an answer, and it was perhaps enough of one for Yanagi, Fuji turned on his heel and walked back in the direction they had come from.

Fuji had walked him to the mouth of the dungeons. Curiosity bid him to continue to the elegant door of Oshitari’s chambers. Yanagi stared at them, half in thought, half still thrilled that he could take in all of the castle’s design with his own two eyes.

The message Fuji sent had been perfectly clear and confirmed an inkling of his. Yanagi knocked. An inexplicable series of sound and voices bubbled up from beyond the door, but it opened moments later nonetheless.

“Yanagi-kun,” Oshitari grinned and invited him in, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“A question.”

“Very well. Ask,” Oshitari said. The counselor was queerly dressed in that he was barely dressed. He wore only a hastily thrown on robe and his neck bore many signs of pleasurable injury. Interesting.

“Despite Shishido’s presence in Fudomine, then Seigaku, Atobe did not see Fuji’s betrayal of the peace treaty,” surely, if Atobe knew of the violation, it would have come up in the council.

Smirking slightly, Oshitari tilted his head. There was more.

Yanagi narrowed his eyes on Hyoutei’s wiley counselor. Perhaps all counselors were made alike in nature. “During the contest with Kabaji-kun…you knew that it was Niou and not me on the battlefield.”

“The things a man does for the sake of peace,” Oshitari’s smirk evolved into a wolfish thing. Where there had been nothing, Niou flickered in from behind and wrapped his arms around Oshitari’s waist. As Niou’s tongue tasted the juncture between the counselor’s neck and shoulder, Oshitari purred, “Oh the dirty things.”

“Oshitari-kun,” Yagyuu’s voice carried from the bedroom. “I’m afraid we’re still not done with you.”

Apparently, Niou had taken all of the words about Hyoutei’s dungeons to heart.

Yanagi smiled. “Thank you. I’ll see myself out.”

—

Atobe decided that there was such thing as too many Kings in the castle, even when that castle belonged to him. The whirlwind of events left him feeling bereft; whether it was the full night of war, the loss of his fire, or the sensation of being so close to it — Yanagi — again in the council room, he didn’t know.

Whatever his dilemma, Excidium always saw him through. When he entered the haphazardly repaired stables, he was shocked and outraged to find Yanagi petting his beloved horse and spoiling him with sugar cubes, of all things.

“Your horse is bribable after all,” Yanagi informed him with a quiet, serene expression.

Though he was supposed to be cold as ice, the rage boiling up in him was anything but. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, controlling his tone.

Yanagi, unaffected by his anger, soothed his fingers through the horse’s mane. Excidium seemed to like that — traitor.

“You never announced the results of the contest,” Yanagi informed him. “If I have earned the right to try and court you.”

Frigidly, Atobe folded his arms and retorted, “You got what you came for, Yanagi. My generosity only extends so far.”

Yanagi approached Atobe, eyes open. They were narrow, brown, and perfectly ordinary but for the blazing warmth and gratitude that filled them. “Then let me take responsibility,” he said. “For all the good and ill that I have done.”

Even if Atobe’s back were not against the pole, he wouldn’t have moved. He wouldn’t have backed down a single inch. Nor did he move forward to the kindling heat that beckoned him closer.

Yanagi moved for him, nearer and nearer in small, measurable increments. Atobe did not pull away when the counselor’s long fingers cupped his cheek, or when he stepped into the spot of hay he occupied. The smell of fresh tea wafted from the breath they shared. Though Yanagi had bent so far and brought their faces ever so close, he refrained from realizing the kiss.

That was Atobe’s choice to make.

“Rikkai idiot,” Atobe breathed, heating the scant air between them. He captured Yanagi’s vest and said, “You can try.” Then, he tugged Yanagi down that final nine percent to reclaim his fire.

Omake: Three Years Later

Sakuno laughed as she plummeted hundreds of feet. Tomoka clung to her back and shrieked joyously. Lucky the dragon seemed equally pleased to be landing in Seigaku too, but he expressed it with a roar and a theatrical show of fire.

“Lucky!” she scolded as they touched down before the gates of Seigaku. “Be careful. We can’t start a forest fire here. Kunimitsu isn’t quite as forgiving as Shiraishi.” The enormous dragon thumped his tail and averted his large, violet eyes. Sakuno knew that Lucky always took criticism personally. She patted him gently on the side. After all, it was the first time either of them had been to any of their homes in quite awhile. They were thoroughly occupied, searching their thawing continent for any other existing dragon eggs. Though they hadn’t found anything yet, Sakuno hadn’t given up hope.

“Are you here for the tournament?” a guard asked her. If he were asking her that, he had to be new.

“Just visiting,” she explained. “Um, are you new to the guard?”

“Yes!” the guard straightened his back to assume what he must’ve thought an impressive pose. “I’m Minami Kentarou.”

Another guard rushed to Sakuno’s other side and posed in the same manner. “I’m Higashikata Masami.”

“Very nice to meet the both of you,” she said, hoping that they would let her pass through. They promised An that they would meet her for lunch.

Tomoka, however, had other ideas. She bounded right up to them and said, “What’s this about a tournament? Any need for cheerleaders?”

“Ah, yes, the tournament!” Minami said.

“It’s going to be a wonderful event.”

“Everyone is going to be there.”

“And if everyone is there, can they really resist mauling each other?”

“Haha, probably not. That’s a great one, Masami!”

“I thought so, Kentarou.”

Lucky’s massive eyes followed the pair of them back and forth, but neither guard seemed to notice or care. Sakuno stopped their praise of each other. “Wait. So the kingdoms are fighting?” A knot of worry tightened in her gut.

“Oh yes,” Higashikata nodded.

“Just this morning, King Yukimura and King Atobe were threatening to destroy each other. Echizen suggested that he could take both of them in one blow. And well…King Tezuka, he’s not very long-winded.”

“Wow, Kentarou. You really do get more amusing every day!”

“Only because I spend my days with you!”

Sakuno did not wait for the two guards to check her new passport. After all, she had a world war to prevent. She sprinted past, giant dragon friend galloping on beside her. Seigaku had been her home long enough that she knew exactly how to get to the training fields.

Though she wasn’t quite able to believe her eyes when she got there. The King of United Rikkai and the King of Hyoutei faced off against each other. But instead of swords, they held weird flat nets, and instead of on a battlefield, they stood meters away from each other on a well-lined area.

“I’m going to destroy you this time, Yukimura! Nothing gets past my insight,” Atobe said, hitting a tiny ball over the short net dividing their field territories.

“As if you stand a chance against Rikkai. I will strip you of your senses,” Yukimura smirked, striking the ball at Atobe when it came his way.

Sakuno stood, breathless and confused as she watched the pair of them. “What is this?” she implored to Ryoma.

Sipping lazily from his purple beverage, the Prince Consort looked over at her and shrugged, “Fun.”

“…Fun. You guys are really fighting like this for fun?”

“There are only so many ways you can do the same thing and keep life interesting,” Yanagi said, jotting something down in a notebook as Lucky nosed at his hair. “Thanks to you, I’ve just thought of another. I think I’ll call it monopoly.”

Sakuno sighed and collapsed on the bench next to Yanagi to watch the match. She supposed that it would be boring for peace to look any other way.