Chapter 31
Kaneko
Three days passed in suffocating silence. Sakurai never returned. Not once did his shadow darken my doorway, not a single message slipped beneath my door. His absence felt deliberate—a punishment, perhaps, or simple abandonment.
Had I outlived my usefulness?
Or were the shadows simply baffled as to the best way I might be of use?
Momoko wouldn’t look at me either. When our paths crossed in the corridors, she turned away as if I were a ghost haunting her establishment.
Other courtesans whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear, speculating about the night the Imperial Samurai came, about the blood, about why Momoko’s prized acquisition now slinked through the house like a pariah.
Only Hana still came.
Each morning, she arrived with clothes and the routine of a courtesan’s life.
She never asked, but questions filled her eyes—about the blood, the guards, the way I’d returned that night looking like Death himself.
In classic Hana form, she executed her duties with quiet efficiency, occasionally touching my shoulder or adjusting my collar with more gentleness than was required.
I think she knew I couldn’t have answered her questions even if she’d asked.
And yet, she remained my one true friend.
On the third day, I was serving sake in the common room, moving between tables, when the atmosphere shifted. Conversations stuttered to a halt. Heads turned toward the entrance.
Prince Haru stood in the doorway, Esumi at his side.
Their presence was not unusual, but their timing was.
They never came during daylight hours. The Prince’s visits were always nocturnal affairs, discreet arrivals through back doors or side entrances after most had retired.
And yet, there he stood in full daylight, dressed in traveling clothes rather than his usual flowing silks.
Whispers erupted like flames across dry grass.
Haru’s eyes found mine from across the room. He raised one hand, a subtle gesture that commanded without words.
Come.
I set down my serving tray and crossed the room, feeling every gaze follow my movement. The whispers intensified—speculation about why the Prince would summon me so publicly, what our arrangement truly entailed, whether this had anything to do with the night the Samurai had come.
Was I being called for punishment or pleasure? Would I survive the Prince’s wrath?
Haru led us to a private alcove. Esumi followed, his hand resting casually on his hilt—a reminder that despite his easy smile, he was still Samurai, still prepared to meet threats with violence.
A serving girl appeared with sake and three cups and then vanished behind the screens. The moment we were alone, Haru’s mask fell.
“We’re leaving,” he said without preamble. “Within the hour.”
“What?” I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “Leaving?”
“For Temple Suwa.” Esumi poured sake for all three of us, his movements precise despite the tension in his shoulders. “This trip was planned long ago. We were supposed to leave in a few weeks, perhaps a month, but the capital is becoming . . . unstable.”
“The rebellion?” I asked carefully.
Haru took his cup but didn’t drink. “My father is dispersing the Imperial line. My older brother, the Crown Prince, has already been sent away. His convoy was attacked this morning. He survived—barely. This third assassin was more creative than the first two.”
“Third?” My voice came out strangled.
“This week,” Esumi clarified grimly. “The poisoner at the moon festival, the archer in the palace gardens, and now a crossbowman on a rooftop a few blocks from the palace—exactly where someone knew the Crown Prince would be traveling.”
Haru’s eyes met mine, sharp with meaning I couldn’t quite grasp. “Someone has access to our travel routes. Someone watches from shadows and speaks in whispers.”
My blood chilled.
Did he mean—?
Did he know—?
“The cherry blossoms fall early this year,” Haru continued, using an old court euphemism for royal assassination. “But we fear this is only the beginning. The real storm has yet to arrive.”
“Your younger siblings—”
“Both my younger brother and sisters are being sent to various strongholds as we speak . . . if Father can get them out in time.” He finally sipped his sake, then set the cup down with deliberate care.
“The city gates close at sunset. There will be martial law and additional security measures. After that, no one enters or leaves without Imperial seal and a full search.”
I glanced toward the window. The sun was already descending toward the rooftops. “That’s less than—”
Esumi shrugged, as though we discussed a playful jaunt through the countryside.
“Our horses are saddled. The guards at the western gate have been told to expect us, but only until the bell tolls sunset. After that . . . after that, even we are trapped inside this city with whoever wants the Imperial family dead.”
“Which brings us to you,” Haru said.
My stomach clenched. “Me?”
“I have been your protection these past weeks,” Haru said. “My word has kept the magistrates from questioning you too closely about that night and has kept Momoko from earning coin by selling you to others, but once I leave . . .”
Esumi spread his hands, and a sardonic grin played at his lips. “As they say, ‘The mountains are high and the Emperor is far away.’”
“You could remain here,” Haru added, rolling his eyes at his paramour before smoothing his features into stone and steel. “Take your chances with the city watch, the magistrate’s investigations, and Momoko’s patience.”
The unspoken alternative hung in the air: interrogation, imprisonment, possibly execution for association with a known pirate. At the very least, a beginning to my life as a courtesan, rented to any man with enough coin and an appetite for flesh.
“Or,” Haru continued, “you could come with us.”
The words were cold water splashed onto my face. “I’m sorry . . . what?”
“To Temple Suwa. As my . . . attendant.” He chose the word carefully, then added something that made my blood freeze: “Your . . . teachers . . . have already agreed to this arrangement.”
Teachers? He clearly wasn’t referring to Hana. Did he know about Sakurai? About the woman in black? They served his father, but such service was closely held, even within the Imperial line—especially where a spare, wayward prince was involved.
“We will tell Momoko that the abbot at Temple Suwa has been seeking someone with your particular skills, that Samurai there long for pleasure in the midst of their training,” Haru continued, each word precisely chosen.
“She need not know that my father’s spymaster spoke highly of your potential, though he was rather vague about who exactly had been training you. ”
My mind reeled. The Emperor’s own spymaster knew about me?
“I have already purchased the next several months of your time from Momoko. She was quite agreeable. I honestly think she will be relieved to see you walk through her doors and never return.”
“When do we leave?” I heard myself ask.
“Now . . . as soon as you gather your things,” Esumi said, checking the window.
Could I do this? Could I leave without Sakurai’s permission? Would the shadows—whoever they truly were—allow it? Or would I find a blade in my back before we reached the city gates?
If the Emperor’s own spymaster knew—
Some instinct drew my hand to my pocket where the Emperor’s coin had grown heavy—and warm. A flash of memory—or of foretelling—that wasn’t mine overtook my vision:
Blood on temple stones.
A figure in black standing over a body.
Someone screaming a name I couldn’t quite hear.
Then it was gone, leaving only the coin’s burning presence and a certainty that chilled me to my core.
The shadows weren’t asking or granting permission. They commanded me to join the Prince. For what, I had no idea, but the directive was clear.
“Give me five minutes,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Haru’s relief was palpable, but his next words carried weight: “Pack only what you can carry. And Kaneko, bring whatever tools of your trade you might possess. All of them. The temple has its own ways of training warriors, but I suspect your education has been unique.”
Haru then rose to leave, but Esumi paused, studying me with his sharp Samurai gaze. “That night,” he said quietly. “The pirate who died. He meant something to you.”
The pirate. Kazi. How in Amaterasu’s glory did he know about Kazashita?
But it wasn’t a question. It was a command to answer. So my heart did. “Once. In another life.”
“We all have other lives we’ve left behind.” Esumi nodded slowly. “Sometimes they follow us anyway.”
And with that, the Prince and his lover departed, leaving me alone in the veiled alcove with three cups of sake and a future I hadn’t expected.
My mind struggled to catch up.
Temple Suwa. Where monks trained warriors and princes learned discipline. Where the shadows wanted me to go, for reasons I couldn’t yet understand—though that flash of vision, that image of blood on temple stones, suggested their reasons might be written in blood.
I downed the remaining sake—mine, Haru’s, and Esumi’s—then stood.
Five minutes to gather my meager possessions, my hidden weapons, and the tools of a trade I’d never asked for. Twenty minutes before the gates closed and trapped us all in a city brewing with assassination and conspiracy.
The coin still burned against my thigh, its heat—real or imagined—a constant reminder that I wasn’t making this choice freely. The shadows had plans within plans, and I was merely another blade to be positioned where the cutting needed to be done.
As I left the alcove, whispers followed me through the common room.
Let them wonder and gossip and scheme, I thought, lifting my chin and striding out with a confidence I’d never felt within.