“You don’t need to say it,” Kin shook his head. “When we are far from here, when we look to the horizon and see nothing but emerald and jet, then we can talk. Say everything we have wanted to say.” He stuffed the metal cuffs back into his belt, took one last appraising look at Buruu’s wing. “It will be ready, Yukiko-chan. Two days. I give you my word.”
He touched two fingers to his brow, nodded to Buruu, then clomped from the pit and off into the darkness, leaving behind the faint stench of chi smoke. Yukiko stood and wrapped both arms around Buruu’s neck, pressed her face into his feathers, breathing him in. He was warm and soft, like the blankets she would curl up in near the fireside when she was a little girl. She wanted nothing more than to be far from here, cool wind in her hair, clean rain on her face. Alive and breathing.
This is not me. I hate this.
IT WILL BE OVER SOON. AT LEAST OUR PART. THE KAGé WILL HAVE THEIR REVOLUTION. THE LOTUS WILL BURN.
I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that. None of it matters.
OF COURSE IT MATTERS. YOU ARE PART OF THIS WORLD. YOU HAVE THE POWER TO MAKE A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.
How many people will die in this revolution?
HOW MANY WILL DIE WITHOUT IT?
I don’t want to be the one who starts it all. I just want my family back. My father safe. You free. That’s all I want.
YOU CANNOT HAVE THAT WITHOUT THE KAGé.
I know, I know. Yoritomo deserves to die. He killed my mother. Tortured my father. I hate him so much it’s turning me black inside. But doesn’t murdering him make me no better than he is? And what if killing him only makes things worse?
IN THE END, ALL QUESTIONS CAN BE DISTILLED INTO ONE. WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO GIVE UP TO GET THE THINGS YOU WANT?
I’d give up my life for any one of you.
DYING IS EASY. ANYONE CAN THROW THEMSELVES ONTO THE PYRE AND REST A HAPPY MARTYR. ENDURING THE SUFFERING THAT COMES WITH SACRIFICE IS THE REAL TEST.
She was back on the Thunder Child, her father’s voice ringing in her head.
“One day you will understand, Yukiko. One day you will see that we must sometimes sacrifice for the sake of something greater.”
She nodded, wiped the tears from her eyes, locked them in a room inside her mind and threw away the key. No more fear. No more regrets. Not for vague ideology or someone else’s notion of what was “right.” For the ones she loved. For her family.
All right then. Let’s start a war.
“What are you doing here?”
Yukiko flinched. Buruu’s growl rumbled through the floor, up through the soles of her feet. His hackles rose in ragged peaks across his back, eyes flashing. She frowned into the dark, recognizing the voice.
“Hiro?”
He stepped from the shadows, bare chest beneath his red silk kimono, embroidered tigers prowling down his arms. He was wearing a black obi, neodaishō crossed at the small of his back, crouched in their lacquered scabbards. His hair flowed loose, a frown darkening that beautiful, sea-green stare she’d dreamed of a lifetime ago.
“I came to see you, and you were not in your room. What are you doing out here without an escort, Yukiko?”
“Visiting with Buruu.”
“How did you get out of the palace? The guards did not see you leave.”
“Kitsune looks after his own.” She tried a shy smile, hoping to win him over.
“And the Guildsman?” His eyes narrowed, looking down the corridor Kin had left by. “Why was he here?”
“I didn’t ask.” She shrugged, hands clasped behind her back to hide the shakes. “I have nothing to say to their kind. I think he might be working on Yoritomo’s saddle.”
“Yukiko,” Hiro frowned. “If the Guild is plotting something . . .”
“Nobody is plotting anything.”
“You are lying.” He shook his head. “I can see it in your eyes.”
TELL HIM NOTHING.
“Nothing is going on,” Yukiko insisted. She stepped forward and pressed against him, arms around his waist. “You worry too much. Buruu is my friend. He gets lonely in the dark and I wanted to be alone with him. I miss him, Hiro. That’s all there is to it.”
“Swear to me.”
“I swear.” She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke, and the lie tasted like ashes in her mouth. “Nothing is going on.”
Hiro looked down into her face, expression softening, voice a soft murmur.
“I am sorry.” He touched her cheek, brushed stray hair away from her eyes. “I know you miss your friend. I know that he is dear to you in a way I cannot understand. But you should not be sneaking out of the palace without permission. You deceived the Shōgun before under my guard. I am . . .” He shook his head. “I am just afraid his faith in me will prove misplaced. If I fail him again . . .”
And there in the eve ning gloom, Yukiko saw him as if for the first time, as if the dark was somehow brighter than the day. Hiro wasn’t like her father. He didn’t serve Yoritomo because he’d been coerced or threatened. Hiro served because he believed it was right. Honor, loyalty, the Bushido Code, it was everything to him. He’d die before he betrayed it, one of Buruu’s happy martyrs. His life was meaningless without his Lord. He was a spinning, razor-sharp cog in the engine, born to privilege and never once questioning the rightness of it all.