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Chapter 14: Love and Loathing

16th Day of Tearful Sky, 1554

“No."

“Chihiro, we need-"

“Nope!"

As a small, skinny and feathery figure barely over three feet tall, Chihiro puffed herself up and spread her arms wide. She made herself bigger much the same as a cat, only with the presence of a kitten.

The village elder scratched his chin. “Everyone's got to pull their weight. It's almost midday and I haven't heard a peep from either of them."

Chihiro cartwheeled one way, her outstretched claws , then back. “I'll do it!"

“There's fencing to be done and some of the rocks in the way in the way are as big as you are, girl." He went to push through, only to receive a vicious peck to the thigh. “Why are you being like this?"

“Because!"

“'Because' what?"

“Love. You can't get in the way of lovey-love!"

The elder glanced between Chihiro and Sota's hut. “Huh. Really?"

“Yes!"

“Well, damn... look, just tell them when they're ready, there's work to be done." The elder turned to leave, then squinted over his shoulder at the still defiant crow-girl. “Why'd you care so much about them doing... uh..." He gesticulated with his hands, one finger poking through two of his other hand. “Love?'"

“They need it," Chihiro answered, finally dropping her arms to her sides. “People fixy-fix people. They're healing."

“Hana I get, but Sota? He seems to have his head about him."

Chihiro's throat-feathers fluffed for a moment as she gulped. “He needs it too. Maybe even more. Or less, but to complete the other-other?" She began tapping her beak with a claw from one hand while patting her head with the other, then cawed triumphantly. “Like putting back the first slicy-slice of an okonomiyaki! The bigger piece is made better by the smaller part, but the smaller piecie-piece gets to be part of the whole! So long as it hasn't been chewed... or pecked. Or licked! Or fallen on the floor. Or-"

“Wait, wait, hold on! Why are we talking about food all of a sudden?" The elder screwed his eyes shut for a moment, then threw his arms up in the air. “I give up. Just tell them there's work to be done. Understand?"

“Yessir, elder-elder, over-over!"

* * *

Panic. The feel of someone breathing on the back of her neck. The feel of fingers on her hip. The proximity of body heat locked under the blanket. An invader.

Hana clenched as she snapped awake, but hooks of memory stopped her from leaping to her feet. The warmth of gentle breaths on her neck. The tender caress of a caring hand on her hip. The protective presence of another, as a loving shroud around her on the comfortable bed. A man. A lover.

Other memories flittered in as her consciousness fully emerged. Hana didn't just smile, she had to stop herself from giggling. Not because she didn't want to, but to dare not awaken Sota. Her cheeks and ears burned hot. Her heart hammered. A tingle ran up her spine that made her small, fluffy tail twitch against her bed-partner's stomach.

Sota snorted and stirred from the tickle, peaking an eye open. Even as the cobwebs of his brief sleep failed to shake free, the presence of Hana made him smile. “Good morning."

“Good morning. Or at least I think it is?" Hana sat up and glanced at the sunlight piercing the straw curtains, which thrust almost directly down toward the floor rather than across the room. “It might even be midday."

“I bet the old man's spitting fire about us," Sota said, straining as he stretched. “Hells, I'm surprised he isn't in here and giving us a lash with his tongue right now."

The pair shared the lack of an urge to stand, both suffering the lack of sleep but as they looked at each other, fulfilment took hold. Their gazes lingered on one another, as well as lingering glances at one another's nakedness, even if they were both sticky and dishevelled.

Hana brought an arm across her chest as the other tugged the blanket over her lap, a blush blossoming on her face and ears. “As much as I want to go and help the village, we should address last night."

“You mean us," Sota replied with a gesture between the two of them and, with less modesty than Hana, turned and faced her, grinning as her eyes were instinctively drawn between his legs. “I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering. Far from it. It meant a lot to me, and I hope you feel the same."

Hana restored her composure with a smile. “I have no regrets either. I- in fact..." She trailed off as the words escaped her. She watched Sota as he leaned off the bed and retrieved a flask of water. Even with a few moments to try and form the words she wished to speak, her lacking glibness was only deepened by her lack of sleep, so she acted instead. As soon as Sota finished taking a drink, Hana fidgeted over to him and pressed her body against his, then planted a tender kiss on his cheek.

Sota snaked a hand around her waist and held her, then returned the peck on the cheek with a more impassioned kiss to her lips and let his tongue dip within, past her long, lapine teeth. The continuation from the previous night's pleasures only became stronger in their minds. Nothing had ever felt so right. Time held still as firmly as he held her, until they had to stop and take a breath. Sota handed her the flask and she drank her fill as well, gulping deep and long enough to make him almost jealous, despite having experienced the same just moments before.

He said, “I don't think words are necessary, do you? I can feel it. That this is how it's meant to be."

Hana nodded and wiped her furred cheeks dry. “Then we're in a relationship?"

Sota winced and thumbed his chin. “Eh, I mean... yes? But c'mon, don't be so formal. We already cared for each other, and we've gone a step beyond that."

“And I think you're undermining what this meant to me and, if I know you as much as I think I do, it meant a lot to you as well." Hana narrowed her eyes in mistrust in spite of the grin on her lips. “I distinctly remember you saying the words."

Sota pursed his lips, glanced aside, played every tune of indifference he could project in his bodylanguage, but the flushing of his cheeks was most telling. “M- maybe I did." He put on a indifferent air, no matter how forced it was. “To say it again would diminish the meaning from last night, that's all."

Hana's smirk grew to an overbearing smile, replete with shining incisors. “Is this the part where you play coy, wait for me to begin to have doubts, only to have you suddenly express a grand statement of love and affection? Or sweep me off my feet and bellow to The Dragon himself of your deepest feelings?"

Sota scratched his nose to hide the flicker of annoyance cross his brow as much as the smirk threatening his lips. “If you start reading me like that, this won't be anywhere near as fun."

“I've had you 'being fun'," Hana said and snuggled up to him again, enjoying the feel of his skin against her fur, both so unlike everything she had felt in an embrace in that life that felt a thousand years ago, but fast becoming a stimulating and life-giving sensation. “I've had you try to lift me up when I was constantly bringing myself down." She gently guided his face to hers, eyes glimmering as she stared into his. “I don't need you to be anything more than as you already are. Nothing needs to change, at least not from you. I hope I have changed enough that it won't be necessary."

Sota sighed, then ran his fingers across her cheek, stroking the fur and whiskers back as she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. He said, “I know, but you don't need to change either. Not at your core. You just needed time to work things out about... that night."

Hana flinched, the swirl of her thoughts, of the tormentous past, then relaxed as she put her hand over his against her cheek and kept in the moment. This moment. Nothing else mattered any more. “I just hope I don't ruin things. There's so much I missed out on in my life, as if submerged and drowning in everything that came before, that I forgot how to live. That maybe I don't know how to breathe any more."

Sota gave a sympathetic smile, then cupped her other cheek and moved closer, until he could feel her breath of his face. He whispered, “which is why it's so important to make the most of our future. I'll do everything I can to make it worthy for you, Hana."

Still starved of such comfort, Hana felt her eyes grow wet and her throat tighten. She slowly pressed her forehead against his, to which Sota relented, and their lips met once more, over and over in gentle passion.

As they parted again, and as Hana savoured the feeling for a few more moments, she suddenly cast her eyes back towards the messy sheets and dishevelled blankets. A grin crept across her face. “I can think of one way."

“And risk further ire of the chief?" Sota said and shared her gaze. “You know what? Why not?"

Hana pulled her willing partner back and down into the blankets. Hands roamed and lips once more explored. He buried himself in the feel of the fluff of her body and potent musculature as he had the night prior, and she continued to absorb every shred of warmth she could from without and within. Their legs intermingled, her powerful thighs rapidly overpowering his and locking them together, yet his stronger arms pinned her down against the pillow and he nuzzled against the thick, plush dewlap of her neck, then he ran his cheek down to her collarbone, and kissed down to her chest.

Their breaths quickened and became low gasps, then hastened panting, then deeper moans. Then a wooden clatter snapped them from their lusts. Both pulled apart, eyes wide and panicked.

Chihiro, hands over her beak, frozen and standing beside a toppled bucket. “I'm not here." She snatched up the wooden pail and upturned it over her head, though her beak made it into less a disguise and more a helmet.

Hana blinked, then rolled her eyes. “Clearly."

Sota scrambled to cover his shame, and that of Hana. “Sainted tits and The Dragon's asshole, I thought it was the chief."

“It was, and he was all..." Chihiro suddenly stood alert and upright, pointing a taloned finger in a wagging motion. “'Make sure to tell them to get their backsides working when they wake up!' And I was like, 'yes-sir, chiefy-chief sir!'" She saluted, smacking the wooden vessel over hear head and cawing in frustration. “Um... so... I should tell you to get your one furry and one un-furry butts out of bed and worky-work?"

Hana sighed and ran her finger claws over her ears. “We really should get up and assist the village..."

With a sigh from Sota, and a deeper, exaggerated third sigh from Chihiro, the belated day had begun.

* * *

“This doesn't seem so bad," Hana said as she lugged over a number of wooden beams. “I've been looking forward to working together. Just the three of us once more. Not that I didn't appreciate Natsume's company, of course. It was nice to make a friend outside of our family again."

“I really need to thank her for looking after you," Sota said as he dug the first hole of a long span of forest, along a now-overgrown footpath that barely peaked out from the thick brush, only noticeable by rows of rocks either side to mark out the digging sites.

It wasn't to keep anything in or out, but simply to guide folk to Kyoba village from the nearest town. Small as the settlement was, the village was famed for its fine rice, and traders would barter for the grain well before harvest season. The only problem was the dense forest reclaimed the path every year. The fertile soil bestowing the curse and blessing of verdancy in equal measure.

“Chop-a-chop, hop-a-hop!" Chihiro flailed two trowels at the next post spot, flicking small chunks of grassy soil with a hand and a foot while balancing on the opposite pair. “When turned muddy, plop-a-plop!"

Both Hana and Sota looked at her. Silently they conceded it was a fine demonstration of dexterity as much as a massive waste of energy. It was forming up to be a day of dualities.

Hana went to chastise the bird, but Sota shook his head and returned to digging. He said “So, we've got hours ahead of us and there's still-"

“If you're going to drag the past up again," Hana interrupted, “please... it's not necessary."

“You say that, but it's occupied my thoughts a lot recently."

“As mine, but in the form of sorrowful wallowing. I'm beyond that and we're together now." Hana placed the first few posts by their markers, each giving a dull thud from the lush greenery. “We've reconciled. What is more to be said?"

Sota leaned on the shovel. “It's important. I need every detail clear in my mind."

Hana's ears flattened down and she loosed an exasperated sigh. She knew the man too well to not notice the focus he held for this topic, both now and before with hindsight. “This is more than just spinning a yarn, isn't it?"

Chihiro paused and shook some mud off her feathers. “Meaning momentary memory Ministry muck meanderings, methinks?"

“Yes, to both," Sota said with a nod.

Hana gave a deep sigh. “You really need to start explaining this nonsense to me, Sota."

“Look, I will, I promise," he said and threw another pile of dense, wet soil aside with another scoop of the shovel. “But until I know all aspects of what happened between us, The Ministry and Lord Kou, even stuff about the inousa, I won't know how much we need to worry."

“More than Ministry assassins?" Hana said with a crook of her neck and a topple of one of her ears.

Sota spat a gob of phlegm to the side. “I'd bet a pile of kinroku that bastard found us by chance. Maybe he knew the dice were loaded, probably a vague idea of where we might be, but he couldn't have known where we were after we escaped all that mess. And you dealt with that bastard before he could report back."

“Fine, fine," Hana said as she raised the first post as Sota finished the first hole and dropped it inside, and Sota began packing the post back in with the excavated soil. “So where should we begin?"

Sota wiped his brow with the budding sweat, then looked over to Chihiro, who continued to hack at the ground, now in a hand-stand and with both feet. “Hoi, Chihiro, you were there too. We could use your perspective as well. You're always noticing things we might miss."

“It's true," Hana added. “I feel as though our combined recollections will form a more cohesive tale to put Sota's fears at ease."

Chihiro pivoted her neck to and fro, then drummed her scaly fingers on her beak. “Nothing easy-easy about it. There was catfolky-connivingness, bunninousa-botheringness and human-hamperingness all over the place!"

“Keenly aware, Chihiro," Sota grumbled. “It's making it hard to tell if there's a bigger risk involved than just The Ministry being pissed off at me as an exile or..." He glanced at Hana, who gave him a knowing frown back. “Something more drastic."

Before Hana could reply, Chihiro croaked, “entanglement?"

“This obfuscation again?" Hana grumbled, then snapped, “what are you two talking about!?"

“One step at a time, Hana," Sota said and raised his hands in submission. “I promise that some context will help make it easier to understand, but there's a lot to cover."

Hana threw her arms up in submission and returned for another stack of fence posts. “Fine, but we can discuss it as we work. Chihiro? Care to go first?"

The yatagha clicked with her throat a few times before answering, smoother and more focused than usual. “It was when Scary-sidra's other ships came back..."

* * *

20th Day of Soaring Coin, 1552

“You're hesitating," Varisidra said. The wooden dagger in her hand flipped and danced between her clawed fingers like an extension of her own will. “Why?"

Hana realised her foe was telling the truth, but all she could see were a dozen openings in Varis' position and stance that had to be feints and traps, as the mounting but small bruises on her arms and chest demonstrated. Varis' words sank in all the same, as much an observation as a subtle mocking of her failings. With a jolt, Hana forced her limbs back to action, less to make any sort of attack than remove the scrutiny. Even once more active, Hana couldn't do more than adjust her footwork before locking up. She thought of some glib, Sota-esque way to assuage her sparring partner and save face, but found nothing. It was the same reason she had hesitated was the very same that stifled her thoughts, so she was honest. “You're... intimidating. And confusing to read. I can never tell what you intend until it's too late."

“And, thus, you create more openings for me to exploit. A killing spiral. Let's stall this for now." Varisidra shrugged and relaxed her guard, prompting Hana to do the same. The cera'an tucked the practice blade into her belt.

With the constant pressure of danger waning, the world around them returned to focus for Hana. The summer sun bore down on the pair, with a few of the castle staff milling about on their tasks around the courtyard. Noticing the end of the bout, one of Varis' men approached with a ladled bucket. Varis took out the scoop and gulped down a few mouthfuls of water before sending it over to Hana, who quenched her own thirst with the crisp, refreshing drink. It helped calm Hana's nerves and even seemed to sooth the ache of her sparring injuries.

Varisidra undid the uppermost buttons of her training gambeson, exposing the white fur of her chest and the inner mounds of her bosom as she wafted cool air with a flap of the collar. “I seem to recall you handled yourself just fine against me when we first met. If anything, you should be gathering knowledge of my tricks as we've sparred this last three months, rather than regress."

“Times were different then," Hana replied, loosening her own padded clothes and slipping her arms free. The top fell down and against her hips, revealing more of her now almost uniformly brown fur, with just the left tip of her ear still a pristine white, with the only covering of her chest being a sarashi bandage. “I was driven by a singular goal back then, unfettered by any trickery or ethics. Having spent this time in peace... it's weakened me."

Varis huffed. Pure, if well meaning, contempt. “Revenge and wanton slaughter doesn't strengthen a person. It wears them down, girl. It can hone an edge, yes, even perfect it, but without time to oil and clean, it eventually breaks. Driven vengeance is a wholly different concern than meaningful warfare."

“Yet I survived longer than most on this path," Hana bit back. Her lack of ability to counter Varis' mental trials in combat may have made Hana struggle, but their conversations had evolved. “I lived by my wits and whatever blades I could find. And those that broke, even the shards could kill."

With a shrug, Varis moved to the shade of a nearby tree. “Impressive as that is, sometimes on a thousand flips of a coin, you get tails a thousand times. You're an anomaly. I suppose as an ardent follower of St. Valarie, I should admire you even more, but I'll call your folly out as I see it. Chance spares as many as it slays. An old, blood-sucking but ultimately altruistic tyrant khan of Ardentiphe once said that sometimes, in such cases where destiny favours the owner of the coin and success is all that is found on every flip, it will eventually land on its edge, just to spite destiny."

Hana, again, joined her. Clashing ideals obscured the mutual trust. “Every day was desperation, Varis, You don't understand."

“Do I not?" Varis tittered. “Does nothing in my two decade rise to power meet your lofty, impassible climb to waiting in my presence as, ostensibly, a prisoner whilst we wait for word from my spies?"

Hana pouted. “You seldom speak of your past. Merely banter, parable and distant examples. I may be failing to truly learn your martial methodology, but your trailing, impassable lessons are frustratingly vague."

“Very well. A direct story then? I believe I once mentioned that I was aware of the loss and pain of family in relation to your path of revenge?"

“I... vaguely recall such a thing" Hana sat beside where Varisisdra leaned, eager for some reprieve from the sun.

Varis closed her eyes for a time and eased her breathing. “My people are still relative newcomers to urban society. My father, less martially inclined but craftier than most, saw an opportunity to build a power base in the cities of Ardentiphe's many isles. Human civility was a weakness in his eyes. Something to exploit. He, and a few exiles seeking to band together for safety, took over a hovel in the slums of a city. He spent a few months seeking out others cut of the same cloth and soon created the Cera'Darchinissidai. A clan that would appear from nothing, and strike from the same."

Hana gave a rare smirk. “An appropriate name, if a dramatic one, I suppose."

“Quite." Varis began to look skyward, into the glorious, cloudless azure skies. “My father then plied his wiles with bolstering the clan numbers more directly. Intimately. So also took it upon himself to breed several women that met his... particular criteria. Females that were stronger, smarter or particularly talented. So it was that me and my siblings were born. Twelve, altogether. The second we could walk, we had to carry our own weight.

“Far from a single, cohesive family, however, he segmented us. I was the second eldest, complete with a twin, Vanarra. Twins seem to have carried trait with my own children, blessed be to St. Valarie for my bounty. Even while father wanted us to work apart, Vanarra and I remained somewhat close. We competed, but agreed to never tread on one another's toes. Everyone else was constantly sabotaging and stealing from each other in our little self-contained shanty town. These conflicts sometimes bled over into the human sides of the city. All in all, it forged us into able but ferocious individuals. Of course, being of the blood of the clan chief, lesser members gravitated towards us, and so the twelve siblings formed factions."

“That sounds terrible," Hana added. “To pit blood against blood like that? To what end?"

“You have to understand that by this juncture, the Darchinissidai were fast becoming a threat to the local mahi-khan, the overruling leader of Ardentiphe, as our numbers flourished. The only time we ever worked together was to fend off any interlopers in our territory, and our in-fighting led to many human traders being plundered The clan was no less than a thieves guild now, and a widespread one at that.

“I had started as a cutpurse and a burglar, then branched into spying and intelligence. Vanarra ran a slew of businesses, with all doubling as fences, a way to sell forgeries, move stolen goods and such. Our ventures had a happy middle ground between us as I could feed her information in exchange for all the finery my clique could desire. The muscle of the family was ran by Rievik, our eldest brother, who extorted, threatened and robbed. He even raided official caravans to and from the city, capturing and ransoming anyone he could, from the lesser khans to other nobles. Rievik had fine strategic acumen for a thug.

“With all this rivalry within the Darchinissidai, the ensuing years of absurd, reckless behaviour became the norm, until it led to the deaths of four of the family and many of their fellows. I discovered that Rievik had taken to leaking our activities to the mahi-khan for leniency when his men got caught. I felt compelled to inform our father. A confrontation was inevitable."

Hana knew the sour turn had come and gulped, but chose not to interrupt Varis' story.

Varis sighed. “Rievik slew father. The resulting power vacuum and general fear that Rievik had sown meant most of the remnants joined under his banner. My tattling came to light as even my own number began to break apart or even throw themselves at Rievik's mercy."

“And this is where the spilling of your own blood came to be?"

Varis laughed, bared teeth and a fury boiling under the surface of her fiery turquoise eyes. “Yes, but not the one at the crux of my story. I didn't care about most of the fracturing Darchinissidai clan, and I cared little for the rest of them. My twin couldn't help me out of fear of her own people. With no-one else in my corner I fled, but not without taking Rievik's right eye and splitting our youngest sister's neck."

Visions of her sister flooded Hana own mind. Wounded and dying, yet desperate to help Hana flee. “You say that so flippantly..."

“Better her than me," Varis said with a stretch and a flick of her tail. “Regardless, I spent a couple of years in exile, drifting and filled with fear as Rievik put a price on my head. I met my future husband, a towering slab of cera'an muscle too eager to trust and hilariously naive. I originally planned to use him as a shield to protect myself in exchange for saving him from his own idiocy when dealing with city-folk." Varis' fire was suddenly quelled. She gazed at the sky again with a winsome and innocent smile. “He soon won me over with his gentle heart, boisterous laugh and earnest soul. We travelled for a few more years across the Ardentiphe isles, sellswording and wandering before returning to the chilly northern span of his birth, and started a family. As an aside, I hope you manage to do the same some day, Hana."

Hana snorted as her ears folded back and low against her head. “There's only one path before me, and none end well. There is no room in my heart for anything but bringing justice over the slaughter of my family."

“Suit yourself," Varis said with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. “Having begun to engage in trading myself to support my new family, an inevitable meeting with my Vanarra's trade network took place, and soon we began to get in touch through coded notes. She, too, had married and had children of her own. It felt good having that part of my life back. But as St. Valarie teaches us, 'feasting upon fortune must give way to foulest famine, lest the scales seize with rust, and we become blind to the turning tide or errant breeze precluding a wrathful storm.'" She sighed. “In short, one of her messages spoke of an assassination attempt on my home."

“I don't suppose you considered that in your absence, your sister had turned against you? Your elder brother sounds to have been a fearsome and overbearing leader, and surely your twin's own family could be turned against you."

Varis grinned, devoid of mirth, and continued, “I did not. I trusted her implicitly, though naturally I set up countermeasures to receive an attack. It wasn't long before the would-be assassin stumbled upon them like an amateur. I struck from the shadows and disrobed the shadowy figure."

Hana waited for the story to continue, only to hear nothing but the chatter from the city streets beyond the castle wall, the gentle breeze and the trill of seabirds. Moments of this unsettling calm passed. When she finally looked up at Varis, she was looking away, rubbing an eye with a finger but keeping the hand in the way to obscure her face. Varis' voice, usually so clear and crisp, became rasped, almost hollow.

“It was her. My twin. My Vanarra. Rievik had learned of our messages and used her to not only get to me, but used her family as leverage, and knowing she was in an impossible situation, she..." A faint crack intercepted Varis' voice, and she ceased talking.

Hana's heart ached, but her own years of consuming nothing but hatred made her struggle to offer any words of comfort.

Regardless of her distress, moments later Varis continued, still strained and only growing worse by the second. “I was rent from the grace of all saints. My wrath even outshone St. Vanterre's joyful lust for battle. I became as a demon, and fled into the night without a word to my husband." She turned to face Hana, her eyes wet but now all but boiling with rage. “Rievik had sent his men to observe Vanarra, to ensure she didn't betray him. I found and struck them before they even learned of Vanarra's failure." Varis leaned down, and Hana felt herself recoil as if under attack, but the catfolk matriarch continued, icy cold, “They tell stories of what the town guards men found in their hideaway. Rooms grow silent at my arrival throughout Ardentiphe ever since."

Hana's jaw clenched and she gulped. She knew this impossible bitterness well, and the depths it had driven her. Horrific as it was, Hana had never felt closer to the wiser, older woman.

“When my initial furore had abated, and savage calculation took hold, I then followed their trail back to their ship. I murdered their captain with an inventive use of the ship's rigging to split him in half before the crew, then threatened the others with worse if they didn't obey me and bring me to Rievik. Even at sea for over a week, my fury did not abate. I only slept twice, when my body caved from exhaustion. Otherwise I was planning, gathering a few scant men for the assault from a few of my contacts and collecting as much explosive ordinance as the ship could carry."

“A feeling I know too well..."

Varis nodded as she closed her eyes and took a slow, calming breath. “We arrived at Ardentiphe's capital at dawn's first light and, by midday, I had razed half the city, and yet I still wasn't satisfied. Even as I buried my blade into Rievik's heart and watched the light fade from his one, last pleading eye, the pit of sin within my heart only grew deeper. I didn't even feel for the fact I had lost almost every fighter under my command to reach my target. Content as I was to merely slaughter everyone who even considered the scum an ally, then burn away in the blaze of my own making. It was only when my family finally caught up to me did I finally let the red haze fade from my eyes. I surrendered to the mahi-khan's soldiers' mercy."

“There had to be consequences."

“Of course," Varis said, recovering and grinning in spite of what she had relived. “Mahi-Khan Bohemsh the Third had just witnessed a catfolk and a rag-tag band put half of his city to the torch, but also I had also dismantled Rievik's entire empire. In essence, I had but severed the gangrenous arm and cauterised the stump in lieu of the persistent, cloying and lethal rot the Cera'Darchinissidai had become. I was locked away for a time while the khans debated what to do with me before they offered me a choice: face my crimes and be executed, or put my talents to use for Ardentiphe until the end of my days."

“You chose the latter." Hana nodded and couldn't help but give a half-hearted chuckle. “Suddenly your dramatic entrance and interference in my battle against Asao Sugawara makes a lot more sense: fire, carnage and terrifying violence in precise measure. Less an ambassador and merchant than a warlord."

“As to be expected: in Ardentiphe, all merchants must weigh war against coin upon the scales, and hold both present before those we meet as mediators." Varis pushed herself from the tree and stretched. “Now, enough of my past. You now see why I sympathise with your plight, but the lesson is thus: the good seed I had planted, my family, stopped me being totally consumed and be damned in the eyes of the Six Saints. You would do well to create such a connection with those important to you as well, Hana. It both gives you the water to cool your flames, but also the warmth and strength to fight beyond your own means when drowning in uncertainty."

Without a response, and torn between her self-resignation to her fate and the truths Varis had spoken, Hana quietly stood and drew her practice dagger, then walked back out into the open. She turned and adopted a defensive posture. “Shall we?"

Varis shrugged. “Very well. More lessons of action then." She buttoned up her gambeson, and approached. She drew her own wooden blade and, in the blink of an eye, it flew.

Hana threw up her arms in defence, only for the practice knife to bounce off her elbow. Hana lowered her arms to counterswing, only for Varis to grab her wrist, twist it away, and slip her hand into the opening. Varis' hand gripped Hana's throat, to which Hana went to pull it away, but then she felt the claws dig in the tiniest amount. Any more pressure and they might have punched through the skin, so Hana gagged, left her frozen in defeat.

“First lesson: stop being rigid and straightforward," Varis said as she released Hana's neck. “Your enemy will not always fight on your terms, and certainly not if they know who you are. Your combat style was observed by The Ministry, and everything I have learned from Sota behoves you to learn the same adaptability."

Hana rubbed her neck and grumbled, “yet throwing your weapon is a foolish risk. Any warrior worth their salt knows that."

The matriarch cackled. “And yet it worked."

“This time, maybe" Hana said.

“'This time' is the only time in a real fight, Hana. Remember that. If your tried and true won't work, or if your opponent demonstrates knowledge in your technique, then consider the unorthodox, but only do so with a clear goal in mind. A weakness, an opening, some other killing strike or ability to flee."

Hana bit back the frustration and nodded, collecting Varis' practice dagger and tossing it back to her. “Nonetheless, I'd like to see you try it again."

Varis didn't catch the wooden blade, instead swatting it upward into a skyward tumble. She then pirouetted backwards, remaining beneath the equally spinning weapon. She finished her dance with the blade landing in her outstretched hand, where she dropped effortlessly into a combat ready stance in one, fluid motion.

Unsure and unwilling to wonder if she was being mocked, Hana charged.

“Lady Varisidra!"

The matriarch's pointed ears pricked up, but her focus was undaunted. She slipped aside from Hana's rush and, once she confirmed the inousa was no longer on the attack, the two sparring partners faced the approaching, squat roathaar. Varis called out, “Mr. Chapman! What news?"

Cedric pattered up as fast as his short legs could muster, belly bouncing within the bounds of his buttoned shirt, and stumbled to a stop near Varis panting as if near death. “The Merciless Shrike," he gasped between laboured breaths. “It's back."

Hana gave Varis a confused look, to which the catfolk pursed her lips as her whiskers bunched together. “One of the ships I sent away when we first met. That means the investigation into Lord Kou is over."

* * *

Gearal weathered a hail of swift punches. He writhed and wriggled like a serpent before he saw the next fist coming too fast and certain to evade, and threw every shred of his weight into deflecting the blow. He stopped the swing, but with a second shove from the attacker, he lost his footing and fell onto his back.

“Not like that, kid," Sota said with a sigh as he stepped back, helping the catfolk boy onto his feet. “You can't just catch my arm and do nothing. What was your plan? I'm about twice as heavy as you and far stronger."

Gearal pouted and his whiskers flinched. “I still do not get this 'move like water' idea you speak of."

Sota smirked at the boy's slow but precise words. “Yet you've learned more Samsaran in the last three months than I ever learned of Bralranian. You're a smart kid, and an agile one, so it's just a matter of using that brain with the body. Don't 'think' of the idea of moving like water, just..." He wiggled his hands around as he tried to think of another way to describe The Dragon's Reach. “Pretend to become like it. If you're standing still, you're stagnant. Be the river, where the inside of a bend moves slower than the outside. If I try to force you to move left, then move left, but then either go further or slip inside from the force and strike back. Come, try punching me."

Sota readied himself and Gearal threw his right fist at Sota's stomach. The older combatant stepped back with his left and turned with the punch, but also gently moved his hand to snag Gearal's wrist. As both their arms met, Sota completed his step, then added momentum to the attack and poked out his other foot.

Gearal, already stomping forward to add force to his attack, had to follow through with the lunge to not be thrown off balance, only to tread into Sota's outstretched foot. The boy anticipated this: a tried and true trip, and one that had been drilled into his mind over and over in its near-infinite forms. Gearal managed to hop over and keep upright, only for Sota to suddenly shift with the catfolk lad and, still holding his wrist, wrench Gearal's arm up over his own shoulder.

Sota extended his index finger and poked Gearal in his exposed ribs, then released his arm. As the boy recoiled from the sensitive jab, wrenching and bending forwards to cover his chest, Sota then softly slapped at the catfolk's kidney and, finally, the back of his neck.

“At its most fundamental," Sota said as Gearal sagged in annoyance, “The Dragon's Reach is as much about frustrating the foe as it is eliminating them. Smart fighters won't leave themselves open so easily, but continued dissolution of their probing strikes always gives way to more desperation."

“Then you strike hard, right?"

“Right! Only when you're certain of an effective blow, with the right reactions and position, do you let yourself harden." Sota planted his feet, with a solid thud as the wood reverberated to his short stomp. His legs were rigid, then he pushed his entire form into a stepping punch, receiving another, louder boom from the varnished planks of the training room as one foot moved in front of the other.

Gearal mimicked the motion. His paw-like feet made a muffled 'pat' as he stomped, stepped and performed his punch. “That's... mountain stance, right?"

“Excellent recall. Water stance, or lack of stance, should be your fundamental. Mountain stance for striking and..." Sota gave Gearal a side-eye glance. “What's the third?"

“Drake's wing." Gearal moved his arms to one side, one across his body and the other outstretched and high. “It doesn't seem that effective though."

“True, but that's firstly because it's meant to to be a talisman-drawing motion." Sota demonstrated, stepping again and into the flamboyant form, and his finger dipped into his haori. With another advancing stride, he drew the paper slip with a defensive sweep to knock aside a potential attack, but then thrust with his fingers at eye-height with the other hand; a gouge. Lastly he struck with the talisman-bearing hand in an open-palm strike. “Drake wing has the dirtiest moves in a Tongueless' arsenal, and the most insulting. It lures foes in with the vulnerabilities, to which you respond with confidence in your ability to evade. Every strike targets a critical spot, like the throat, eyes, the solar-plexus, groin and so-forth. Anywhere to expose the foe. Even if it doesn't work, the talisman would technically plug any gaps with the raw power of magic."

A deep baritone voice all but shook the ground. “Perhaps focus less on that one, brother? Unless you have designs to join the Vliechoven mage academy?"

Sota and Gearal turned, with the boy throwing up a hand in greeting. “Hey, Quartz!"

Quarzanris offered a short bow. “I see your instructions are falling on much more receptive ears than my own, Sota."

“What can I say?" Sota shook his head and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I'm effective in esotericism and mystifying in misdirection. You're... a little too direct, big man."

“Yes! What he means is you are a stick in the mud, bro," Gearal chuckled.

Quartz's stoicism remained undaunted. “My charismatic shortcomings aside, I have news: we have learned of Lord Kou's current whereabouts. He's in Jinu province."

Sota frowned. “The inousa homeland? Why?"

“We shall slay two drakes with one bolt in that regard. Mother wishes to hold a meeting with yourself and Hana, as well as discuss the matter and formulate a plan."

Sota's mind began spinning at the possibilities of such news, but he forced himself from making assumptions and glanced at Quartz. “I take it she's in the meeting hall?"

Quartz nodded, but Gearal groaned, “aww, guess that means practice is over..."

“Let me see what you've learned," the older brother said. “I've sparred with Sota many times and learned many of his techniques, and I'm sure I can help assist in reinforcing his style."

“Thanks, Quartz," Sota said. “I'll be back as soon as able." He patted his forehead dry of sweat with his sleeve and headed out of the training hall.

* * *

Varis' hand drummed over a coded sheet of paper, scrawled with a haphazard and sweeping set of lines and dots: Sota recognised it as a combination of Ardentiphe strand-script and catfolk clawsign hieroglyphs, but then forged into a complicated code even within these two esoteric formats.

The matriarch asked, “do you want the good news of the bad news first?"

Hana and Sota glanced at one another, then back at Varis. Hana and replied, “bad news."

The catfolk matriarch snickered. “A word to the wise? St. Valarie teaches us that it's better to take the good news first; the coin in the hand has more value than the prospect 'cross the stormy strait and scuppered ships. That which is can always be repurposed. I'll tell you in order of usefulness."

“Then why the question?" Sota huffed.

“Simply curious if you're picking up on my methods. Anyway; the good news is that, yes, we have indeed located Lord Kou, and that he was the key conspirator in the assassination of the Akikawa clan. He made himself guest at the lordless leader of the inousa before bringing in his men through the border and assaulting the clan grounds."

“Lordless leader?" Hana's ears pricked up. “Lady of the Burrow Fujiko?"

“Do you know this woman?" Sota asked.

“Only in passing and popular opinion," Hana answered. “A fierce woman. She has been given deference by every noble house in Jinu province, whilst every prior Lord or Lady of the Burrow has always been a contested figure. Her leadership has been exemplary."

Varis smiled. It was not a kind smile. “Had been exemplary, perhaps. For a protector of the common inousa, she allowed Lord Kou and his cohorts into your homeland and set your estate to the torch."

Hana glared back, raw fury searing in her brown eyes as her ears folded back against her scalp. “I fail to see how that's possible and find it highly unlikely. No doubt Mitsuhiro Kou bought his way in by some nameless, cretinous filth from some back alley mercenary band. Corruption at the border is nothing new, sadly. It's why my people keep humans at arms reach- no, blade-point."

“Which handily brings us to the bad news," Varis continued, pacing around the table and sliding the page with her. “My people have found traces of a new conspiracy too. Certain names and figures engendered with Lord Kou's vengeance against your father have been contacted once more, and these names coincide with several of Prime Minister Fujiko's inner circle," Varis leaned over, staring at Sota intently as she slapped her palm atop the message. “He's intending to now turn against The Ministry. He's trying to instigate a coup of the entirety of Samsara."

Sota chuckled at the incredulity. “Drake-shit and dog-piss. No single province, even one as militarily skilled as Jinu, or the inousa as a whole, could possibly face The Ministry and live." He dropped the mirth and leaned onto the table. “But him throwing himself into Ministry hands is a concern."

Varis' whiskers flinched and her eyes narrowed, as a predator would as it focused down upon its prey. “In what way, Mr. Nakamura? If you're so certain of his failure, why not let him fall upon Ministry swords and do us all a favour?"

Sota took a step back at her scrutiny, causing him to hesitate in his answer, but Hana slammed her hands on the table with a fierce snarl. “This matters little! I must be the one to kill him!"

Varis sighed. “I sincerely hope this isn't some Samsaran honour nonsense getting in the way of a pragmatic removal of our target at the hands of The Ministry, but the actual lack of certainty of his death is an issue even I can't ignore. I'd sooner one trusted to me send his soul to St. Gareg personally to safeguard my future plans for Nabanba province, and why not let Hana be the one to do it?"

Sota nodded, but then stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked Varis over. “You know, you've never really told us your stake in dealing with Lord Kou. You had at least a meeting with him, and he seems to not have been honest with you, I get that might frustrate you, but why are you seeking his death?"

“How many reasons do you wish, Mr. Nakamura?" Varis gave a teasing smirk. “I suppose my bleeding heart for Hana's desire for revenge is insufficient?"

“Enough banter and allegory," Hana grumbled and pulled her family dagger from her kimono, tapping the black, varnished wood on the desk. “We all want him dead for our own reasons, mine is more personal."

“Just so," Varis said with a nod and a dismissive wave of her hand. “Gift-horses and mouths, Mr. Nakamura. I have my reasons for his extermination, especially now it's also been proven his dealings with me were just to further his own goals. I was hoping our alliance would let me curtail any attempt from The Ministry to strike back at me since he owns the sole waterway for their people to move en-masse."

Hana scrunched up her face. “Jinu province..." Her scowl waxed and waned before she seemed to come around. “Why this extended alliance with the inousa? I don't understand."

Varis turned away from the table and looked out the window, at the summer gleam across the southern sea beneath the lucid and endless blue sky. After a moment to absorb the scene, Varis hands clasped each other over the small of her back as her tail twitched back and forth. “Sadly that is where my agent's investigation came up short. One of my men was captured, though swiftly rescued, and rather than take undue risk, they returned with what they had. We now have eyes on the sole inousan border for any sign of Lord Kou. For the moment, we know he's still in the province."

“Lots of vague details of less importance than rain to a bucket full of holes then." Sota tutted. “Fine. What's our plan?"

Varis returned and plucked the coded message, glancing over it once more. “Since my people were caught, no doubt any relationship between the cera'an and the inousa is all but demolished. And yet, through these tattered holes between our peoples, a passage lies in wait." She glanced at Hana with a sly lift at the edge of her lips. “I believe your people are honour-bound to receive official visitations, yes? As the representative of my people, I feel a moral obligation to offer a personal apology."

Hana nodded. “'The Trade of True Words and Truer Steel' does guarantee safe passage into and from the province, but if you attempt any duplicity, they will take all of our heads."

“We'll strike first, hard and fast as needed," Varis said, then raised her hand, pinching her fingers together. “But there's also the tiny issue where my formal apology needs to be preceded by an official letter, and an equally official invitation after the fact."

Sota folded his arms. “Through Waraki province? The biggest, most lawless region of Samsara that is in a constant state of warfare?"

The catfolk studied a finger claw. “The very same, Mr. Nakamura, that earned Samsara the world-renown colloquialism of The Isle of War, yes."

“That's stupid," Sota added. “You'd have to send that letter around to have it certain to arrive, and that would take a couple of months both ways." He ruffled his hair and grimaced. “Drake's breath, even if you did send it straight through Waraki, that's still one month there and one back, if only for having to wait for the usual skirmishes to give your messengers a path."

“I'm keenly aware," Varis replied. “That's where Quarzanris and Rosarris went to hone their combat skills during the formative years of my work in Nabanba. They know one of the more prominent mercenary bands, so there's no need for the roundabout route. I can send them both to transport the message to the Hayai Tanima valley gate. Though you are right about how long it will take, and months is an understatement; I've heard some inousan decisions taking as long as half a year if they're especially unenthused. To that end, I have a suggestion: there's a small stopover village nearby, usually used by merchants awaiting acceptance into Jinu."

“Yes, Junban-machi village," Hana said. “I went there first to get my bearings when first striking out to begin my search."

Varis nodded. “You being there will be a two-fold benefit. I will, of course, be proceeding as we've already discussed, at which point I'm sure I can bring you into Jinu with my entourage, but you could do far worse than ingratiate yourselves in Junban-machi, perhaps find a way to enter under a separate guise, much earlier and with far less scrutiny. Whether you go as mercenaries for a Jinu sanctioned trader or set up your own venture and go by yourselves is up to you."

“This is turning into a bit of a drama for a bunch of hare-folk politics," Sota said and rubbed his brow. “Funny, for as fast as the inousa are as a people, I guess they had to be slow somewhere."

Hana gave Sota a wrinkled-nosed glance. “My people are full of traditions, rites and resistance to changes. The fact the Lady of the Warrens must confide all major decisions with every noble house means any overt actions involving the inousa as a whole are always sluggish, but certain."

Sota tapped his chin. “So be it, but I'm not taking any chances. The fact it's taken so long already to even learn Kou's whereabouts means any ploy he's trying is probably well underway by now, so let's get some insurance. I'll be bringing Chihiro."

Varis glanced at the door and nodded, though whoever was there was gone before Hana or Sota could spot them. “To go under the guise of a Ministry Tongueless, yes? Unannounced Ministry visits to Jinu would draw a great deal of attention to yourselves, but I suppose that would work as a last resort..." She ran a clawtip over the table and took a long, measured breath, deep in thought before giving a low huff. “Tsk, I am eager to be rid of the bird, just expect her to spill all of our secrets and plans the moment she's recaptured by The Ministry."

Sota chuckled. “I'll keep a close eye on her. She's eager to explore and take in the world through new, unclouded eyes as much as she's eager to not be cooped up in a tiny room in the basement just to stop her overhearing your many, many, many machinations, Varis."

The catfolk matriarch offered a subtle squint, as overt for her as a beaming smile or a gritted-tooth snarl. “Just keep her on a short leash or she will be your undoing."

“You're wrong about her, but whatever." Sota went to leave, but suddenly planted his feet and stood his ground. “She's still very young, and pliable as a result. Very few of them are beyond saving, they just don't know any other way. There was once another yatagha who fled Ministry confines. A candidate for Minister of the Flock, in fact. We knew he managed to reach the mainland and headed East towards Bralran. He was never brought back, and presumably still lives."

“Strange," Varis exclaimed. “That seems rather short sighted for your former people, Mr. Nakamura. Surely they would stop at nothing to slay one who could possibly spread the secrets of your order."

“You misunderstand," Sota replied and glanced over his shoulder. “The Ministry only stopped because the yatagha sent four heads of the best Mitigators back, preserved and filled with sawdust. When we sent one of the best Tongueless, her head was returned, stuffed with his his own feathers and one letter. It read, 'Send more.'"

Varisidra huffed, bemused. “Now that you mention it, I think I've heard of the fellow. There rumblings and rumours of a bird man hiding in the slums a few years back that I had assumed was some persona or disguise, but never had reason to seek him out to confirm. He works as a fence, I believe."

“I heard he was a carpenter," Sota answered. “But we're getting off topic. He's proof the yatagha are worth trying to save and, even if Chihiro is the only one I do, I intend to try and give them a better life."

Hana and Varis watched Sota leave, then Hana offered a bow, tucked her dagger back into her clothes and moved to follow after him.

“Hana?"

“Yes, Varis?"

The catfolk rolled up the coded sheet then slipped it into a bamboo case. “I'd keep a close eye on Mr. Nakamura too, if I were you."

Hana frowned. “You do not trust him?"

“Depends on the context." Varis put the tube in a drawer and locked it with an intricate key. “Do I trust him to act in the best interests of your goal, or even in assisting me? Of course. But do I trust him to make the right, if harsh decision when the time comes? In a contest of his emotions and logic?" She gave a knowing look.

“I trust him, in spite of how flippant he may seem. He has a good heart." Hana's furrowed brow deepened still. “Though the same could be levelled at you on the opposite. I appreciate the help, Varis, and your companionship these past months, but Sota was right. You're taking tremendous risks for the sake of my revenge with very little else holding you with me. Once the man is dead, what then? What of these past months matters any more?"

“What indeed?" Varis chuckled to herself. “I never thought much of it myself, considering you intended to die in the attempt at slaying Lord Kou, by his blade or your own."

Hana leaned on the table, her words becoming panicked. “But what of Sota? Will you help him escape?"

Still smiling, the matriarch replied, “the real question is: why won't you?"

Hana felt her heart ache, and a dozen potential answers flooded her mind but overwhelmed her. In silence, she watched Varis saunter from the room, leaving Hana to her tumultuous thoughts.

* * *

The paff-paff of Sota's footsteps. Straw sandals over tabi socks, footfalls both care-free yet heavy across the dusty stone floor. The flutter of open sleeves and the slide of a door.

“Hoi, Chihiro. You okay in here?"

She nodded. The promises he made were honest, but everyone else didn't want her here. They were too sneaky, and didn't like people who could see the sneaking, or hear it, or guess it. She craved Sota's presence. The familiarity of Ministry manners meeting more modest, mirthful means.

“I've got good news," Sota said. “We're leaving for Jinu province."

Chihiro cooed, “ooh! Yes! Freshy-fresh air without kitty-folk glare!" She clapped her taloned hands. “And bunny-folk province! Are we going with Hare-na?"

“That's the plan," Sota said with a smile, which sank as he looked around the bare-bones room, barely illuminated by a high grate in one corner. “Sorry about them having you cooped up in here."

“Scary-sidra's a big mean kitty," Chihiro croaked. “I don't want to talky-talk to The Ministry about her secrets or dealings. Or sealings! Or even the de-crets!"

“Scary-sidra?" Sota snickered. “That's one way to put her. But it'll be alright, she's just paranoid is. Come, let's get you outside and prepared to travel."

Chihiro whistled and cawed as she hoped around in a circle. “Hooray-ray! Let's go, So-Sota!"

“About that. It's just Sota. And Hana, not Hare-na."

Chihiro stopped her prancing and stared at him. “Huh?"

“My name." He poked his thumb to his chest “It's Sota, not So-Sota."

The lingering twilight-blue stare continued. She then pointed a taloned finger and croaked. “But Scary-sidra called you 'so-so' way back-back when we first met. And Hare-na is a hare!"

“Well... yes," Sota said and rubbed his nose. “But they're not our names. Sota."

“So-Sota!"

Aware of the increasingly hard-headed female company he was accruing, Sota threw up his hands in defeat. “Whatever, but just promise me one important thing." He began gesturing with his hands in Ministry sign language. 'During this journey, I may pretend to be a Tongueless. During those times, I will need you to act as my assistant. Can you do that for me?'

Chihiro watched Sota's hands intently, then nodded and gestured back. 'Yes. This yatagha can do that for you.'

Sota grinned and ruffled the shorter feathers on Chihiro's head, yielding a crane of her neck and an excited clack of her beak. He then said, “let's go get you free, and to a happier life!"

* * *

16th Day of Tearful Sky, 1554

“Drake-spit. You know for a 'simple task', the elder's really working us like dogs," Sota grumbled as he rested against a wooden mallet. He glanced back at the row of posts behind them, but then to the ground ahead. Twice as much remained, yet his body ached and sweat matted his hair. “How in the hells are we going to finish this fence by dusk!?"

“He's just making sure we catch up for the lost time this morning," Hana said as she finished packing in the soil from the latest post and brushed some errant mud from her ears and hands. She then offered Sota a smile. “You can't tell me this isn't worth it?"

“It's not!" Chihiro croaked, flat on her back with a trowel in both hands. Her black plumage smothered in filth.

Sota chuckled. “I'm in agreement with our filial feathered friend." He then sighed and slung his mallet onto his shoulder. “Enough whining, though, we've still got sunlight to burn."

“But I'm dead!" Chihiro groaned. “No worky-work for the dead!"

Hana folded her arms. “Yet you're talking."

“Nooo. Definitely-finitely dead." Chihiro stuck her legs up in the air and let her pointed, near pitch-black tongue flop out of her beak. “Blarg."

“Well, you heard her," Hana said and clenched her shovel. “We have no recourse but to bury her before her carcass attracts predators."

Sota scratched his stubbled chin. “Maybe we should pluck her feathers first? We could stuff a bed, or fashion a cloak."

Chihiro neither budged nor spoke, and just blinked and stared at her teasing family.

Hana joined Sota in his chin stroking, running her finger up and along her whiskers for greater effect. “Hmm, I'm not sure if there would be a market for such a lazy bird's plumage."

“We could always use it for personal use," Sota said, his tone gently drifting from mock-mockery to sincerity. “In our own place."

Hana's ears perked at the shift. “You mean your hut?"

“No," Sota replied. He ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted the loose top-knot on the back of his head. “I mean... well, I was thinking it was high time, now that we've finally reconnected, to maybe move on. From this village, at least once we've done our part and given Kyoba fair recompense for looking after us after fleeing Jinu province."

Hana glanced at the shovel in her hand. “We are at a crossroads, aren't we? I'm sure that Varisidra would still take us in, if we could get back to her. Last I heard she had plans to return to Ardentiphe."

Without skipping a beat, Chihiro flipped up onto her feet. “Surely-surely Scary-sidra has people in Hantoka still? If we get there, we can find our way to her."

Sota had a long think. “I don't know. That could work, but I just want out of any more bloodshed and violence. I don't doubt we'd be looked after by the Darchinissidai, but we'd probably be involved in her schemes again."

Hana's ears cocked to the side. “What's the alternative?"

“We could do our own thing?" Sota gave a half-shrug, but then pawed at his chin in more focused contemplation. “I still think back to how we handled ourselves in Junban-machi. Pretending to be a family and all. That was the first time we felt 'right' together. It wouldn't be so hard to do that again, I think."

“Hmm..." Hana brushed back her whiskers. “I like the sound of that."

Chihiro peeked between the two, then clicked her tongue against her beak. “We're still being chased by The Ministry. Will it work?"

“I'm still hoping that connection was severed when Lord Kou died," Sota said. “If we play it safe, we should be able to go wherever we wish, away from anyone we know and start anew."

“Agreed," Hana added. “Wherever we go, so long as we have each other, we'll be fine." She stepped beside Sota and, as if they had done it a thousand times, their hands and fingers found wove together.

* * *