The roars of the arena still echoed in Mei’s ears as she slipped through the bustling streets, her heart racing from the thrill of the match she had just witnessed. Yeo-Jung had been by her side moments ago, their banter a rare reprieve from the chaos of the city. But a surge in the crowd had separated them, leaving Mei alone amidst the throng of spectators pouring out of the arena.
"Master Yeo-Jung?" Mei called out, her voice lost in the din. She scanned the sea of faces, but he was nowhere to be seen. Master Umi would definitely not let her hear the end of this if she got separated from their group. Which meant an extra tough workout tomorrow.
As she turned down a side street, a strange pull gnawed at her, urging her deeper into the maze of narrow alleyways. She felt an increasing need to go further and further as if she had been here before, but she certainly wasn’t familiar with this place or had been to this part of the city before. She had spent most of her time in the academy, rarely venturing out. The stares her blue eyes got her was enough to keep her away.
Mei quickened her pace, her breath coming in short bursts as she followed the strange compulsion. The bustling district seemed to fade away, replaced by a haunting déjà vu—ghostly screams, cries for mercy, and the image of another young face. A face she couldn't quite remember but one whose fear mirrored her own past. It was as if the shadows of her past were urging her onward, refusing to let her turn away.
At last, she emerged into a wide square, and the sight before her made her blood run cold. A formal execution platform stood at the center, hastily constructed but sturdy, its wooden beams stained dark from countless punishments meted out in the name of justice. The crowd had gathered, murmuring in hushed tones, their faces pale with fear and resignation.
On the platform stood a boy no older than eight, his small frame trembling as he faced the noose dangling ominously above him. His clothes were worn, his cheeks smudged with dirt, and his eyes wide with terror. He was clearly no stranger to hardship, yet the prospect of death had stripped away any semblance of bravado.
At the foot of the platform, a woman knelt, her hands clasped together as she begged. “Please, Lord Michinaga, spare my son! He’s just a child—he didn’t mean any harm!” Her voice was raw with desperation, her tears falling unchecked onto the dusty ground.
Soga Michinaga, a local noble of the Soga clan, sneered down at her, his expression twisted with disdain. “Silence, Your brat dared to lay hands on a noble! For that, he will pay with his life.” The crowd flinched as his voice boomed across the square, the tension palpable.
Mei’s hands clenched into fists as she watched the scene unfold. Every instinct told her to walk away, to avoid getting involved, but that silent compulsion screamed at her to intervene. The echo she had felt deep in her core kept telling her to do something. Anything.
With a swift motion, she reached for the twin tantos she kept in the back of her tunic. The daggers in her hands brought a surge of confidence. Mei took a deep breath, steeling herself, then leapt onto the platform. The crowd gasped as she landed between the boy and his would-be executioner.
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“Stop this madness!” she shouted, her voice carrying over the murmurs of the onlookers.
Michinaga’s eyes widened in surprise, but his shock quickly turned to fury. “Who are you to interfere in my affairs, girl?” He sneered, advancing towards her with a hand raised as if to strike her down.
“You will not touch him,” Mei hissed, spinning her blades with practiced ease. The daggers gleamed in the harsh sunlight, a clear warning.
For a moment, there was a standoff. Then, with a roar of rage, Michinaga lunged at her, his sword drawn in a flash. Mei met his strike with her daggers, the clash of metal ringing in the air. They exchanged blows, the platform becoming a whirlwind of flashing steel. Michinaga was strong, but Mei was faster, ducking under his wild swings and countering with precise slashes.
A particularly vicious strike sent Mei staggering back, but she quickly regained her footing, using her smaller size to her advantage. She darted forward, her blade slicing a shallow cut across Michinaga’s arm. He bellowed in pain, his composure slipping as he realized he was being bested by a mere girl.
“Enough!”
The single word, spoken with cold authority, cut through the chaos like a knife. All eyes turned to the edge of the square, where a figure in green robes embroidered with gold stood watching. His long black hair was tied back with an ornate phoenix-shaped clasp, catching the sunlight as he stepped forward.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as they recognized him. Mei’s heart skipped a beat—this was no ordinary noble. This was Crown Prince Ryohei, heir to the empire.
Michinaga’s face turned ashen, his bravado crumbling in an instant. He stumbled back, dropping his sword as he fell to his knees. “Y-Your Highness!” he stammered, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the platform. “I-I didn’t know—please, forgive me!”
The prince’s gaze was as cold and unyielding as steel. “Justice?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You call this justice? Terrorizing women and children to feed your own ego?”
Michinaga whimpered, scrambling for words. “The boy—he struck me! It was an act of rebellion!”
Ryohei’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a disdainful smile. “And for that, you would kill him?” In a flash, his hand moved, and Michinaga cried out as the hilt of the prince’s sword struck him across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The crowd erupted into murmurs of approval, some even daring to cheer for the Crown Prince. The executioner, pale and trembling, quickly cut the boy’s bonds, freeing him to run into his mother’s arms.
Ryohei turned his attention to Mei, his expression softening slightly as he took in her disheveled appearance and the daggers still clutched in her hands. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice gentle despite the steel that underlined his words.
Mei shook her head, trying to steady her racing heart. “No, Your Highness. I’m... I’m fine.”
A faint smile touched Ryohei’s lips as he studied her. “You’re brave, but bravery without caution is mere recklessness. Be mindful of where you point those blades.”
Sheathing her daggers, Mei bowed her head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Ryohei nodded, turning to the crowd. “Let this be a lesson,” he declared, his voice carrying across the square. “Justice is not cruelty disguised as law. Let no one forget it.”
With that the Crown Prince left leaving a perplexed crowd to begin talking among themselves. Soga Michinaga left gritting his teeth at the embarrassment he just received.