Eunae felt a bit ridiculous standing nervously outside her own house. Dae was right—she had no excuses. It was trivial for her to travel back to Jiaguo through her soul realm, even without Yue’s curious back door. Yue herself had to travel back the old-fashioned way, since her previous method only worked one way and required the support of Jiaguo’s teleportation circle. For Yoshika, however, home was always within reach.

The real reason she’d been putting off talking to her family—not her sisters in Goryeo, but her real family, waiting for her back in Jiaguo—was that she was scared. She was still the same person, but in many ways she also wasn’t.

Eunae was the queen of Goryeo, and the empress of Jiaguo. It had been one thing for Rika and Yun to accept her as a low-ranking princess of an allied nation, but she didn’t want to drag them any further into the drama of international politics, and she wouldn’t blame them if they no longer felt comfortable sharing their lives with her.

It would still hurt, though, and so she had put it off in fear of the worst. Was still putting it off, in fact. She simply stood in front of the door hesitating until it suddenly slid open to reveal Iseul standing on the other side.

The mud elemental, Rika and Yun’s adopted daughter, had grown significantly over the years. The solid mana core floating within her transparent body had grown so large that it could barely be contained within her torso when she took humanoid form—a glaring weak point that she only tolerated in the presence of close friends and family. She was as tall as Rika, perhaps even taller, and strongly resembled Yun, including lion ears and a tail, and her voluminous mane of messy curls.

What stood out the most, to those who had known Iseul in her infancy, was the sheer level of detail. Iseul’s early attempts at human form had cheated many of the details—her hair would be a solid blob, her eyes would lack pupils and she never blinked, or her nose would be little more than a vague impression to give her face a more appropriate shape. In her current form, every strand of hair was unique, she had well-defined eyelashes, fingernails, and even clothing—which Rika had insisted upon after Iseul started adding more definition to other parts of her body.

All of it was part of Iseul’s aura, and every last detail had to be perfectly maintained at all times. It wasn’t a natural form for her, but an affectation that she’d taken great pains to perfect.

Iseul glanced down at Eunae and blinked.

“Hello Mother. You should come inside instead of admiring the door. Mother and Mother will be happy to see you. Ah—and just to be clear, I am too.”

Eunae covered her mouth and snorted. Iseul’s deadpan was so perfect that it was hard to tell when she was intentionally making a joke.

“‘To be clear’? Please tell me that was on purpose. Also, it’s going to be horribly confusing if you keep referring to us all as ‘Mother.’”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I’m doing it. I’m glad you enjoyed my joke. It’s my favorite one, but most of my colleagues stop laughing after the fourth time, on average. Has my levity served to ease your tension, Mother?”

“Yes, Iseul, thank you.”

Iseul bowed, then ushered Eunae inside.

“Mother, Mother! Mother has returned.”

Yun’s exasperated voice heralded her as she came out into the front hall to meet them.

“Ancestors, Iseul, you’re still doing that? It’s so confusing!”

Eunae giggled.

“That’s what I said too. Hello Yun!”

Yun smiled and bowed.

“Welcome home, princess—or, I guess it’s empress now?”

“You heard, did you?”

Rika laughed as she joined them, gently resting her arms and chin on top of Yun’s head.

“It’s a bit hard to miss when it’s all anybody is talking about. Come in and sit down, Eun-Eun, we missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They moved into a well-used sitting room, where Rika and Yun liked to spend their leisure time together. It wasn’t messy, per se, but Rika wasn’t the tidiest person and Yun never liked to move other people’s things. It usually fell to Iseul or Eunae to keep things presentable, and the living room had a particular lived-in quality to it.

Eunae found herself appreciating the homey feel of the room more now that she shared Yoshika’s thoughts and senses. She’d always enjoyed sharing a personalized space with Rika, but she’d never been able to completely let go of the creature comforts she left behind in Goryeo.

She regarded her partners awkwardly as she sat across from them, not sure where to begin. In her typical fashion, Rika beat her to it.

“So, I guess you’re Yoshika now, huh? I figured it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Eunae blinked.

“You did?”

“Yeah, of course. Honestly I’m just surprised you got there before Yue—that woman is so good at lying that I’m pretty sure she’s even fooled herself. Er, don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“Yue? No, she’s...”

She trailed off, pursing her lips. Yoshika wasn’t going to betray Yue’s confidence, but it felt wrong to let that accusation stand.

“She knows what she wants, she’s just secretive about it. There’s nothing wrong with keeping one’s thoughts private.”

Rika snorted.

“Coming from someone who shares her every thought and feeling with four other women.”

Eunae blushed and looked away.

“That’s my prerogative—but I would never push it on someone. Are you upset that I’ve chosen to share myself so completely with someone else?”

“Nah, I’d be a total hypocrite if I was. Besides, I know for a fact that you’d happily do the same with me or Yun, if we asked. The question, I think, is whether your feelings have changed any.”

Beneath the confident smile and self-assured bluster, Eunae felt a twinge of uncertainty from Rika. She looked at her partner’s faces as they stared back at her with hopeful eyes. Even Iseul, who’d chosen to putter about and pick up the clutter rather than join the conversation, was giving her a sidelong look.

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Eunae smiled sadly.

“I cannot say with complete honesty that I’m still the same person I was. However, my feelings haven’t changed. I still love you—both of you. And you too, Iseul.”

Iseul turned away, and though her body was unable to blush, a ripple on the surface of her body betrayed her feelings.

“I did not ask. But...thank you. I love you too, Mother.”

Yun let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank the ancestors. I was so worried.”

Eunae’s eyebrows rose.

“You were? Why?”

“I don’t know. Yoshika—I mean, you used to get upset about it when I um...was attracted to you. To Yoshika, I mean—ugh, this is going to take some getting used to.”

“Oh!”

That was news to Eunae, but she remembered it now—memories that were both old and new. In truth, Yoshika had almost entirely forgotten about it.

“That was when we were still just Jia and Eui. A lot has happened since then, and we’ve done a lot of thinking about what it means to be Yoshika. Jia and Eui, their relationship, is just one part of us. They love each other, Meili loves Jiaying, and I love you, Yun.”

Yun’s face turned bright red.

“M-me?!”

“Of course. I just said as much, didn’t I? I love you both independently.”

“I thought you only liked me as an extension of Rika.”

Rika chuckled and wrapped an arm around Yun.

“Oh, you precious little kitten, what are we ever going to do with you? You’ve lived with her for half a decade without realizing she loves you too?”

Yun shrunk into her seat and made a sad whimpering noise, which was both an expression of discomfort, and an invitation for Rika to keep teasing. Ja Yun was a complicated woman. Rika just laughed.

“Well, I guess that’s that, then. Welcome home, Eun-Eun! You’ll always have a family here that loves you for who you are—whoever that may be. Never thought I’d get to say that my girlfriend is the empress!”

Iseul nodded happily.

“Yes, that is an excellent development. Now I too am a princess, and Heian holds no advantage over me.”

“You mean apart from the fact that she’s already ascended to xiantian and you haven’t?”

The elemental gave Rika a sour look before quickly schooling her expression.

“Aside from that minor detail, yes. I’m sure I will catch up to that lazy cat soon enough now that she doesn’t have our mother’s favor to carry her along.”

Iseul smiled smugly for a moment, then froze, a look of horror creeping over her normally placid face.

“Oh. Oh no. Wait, I hadn’t considered this at all. I take it back, this is a disaster—Mother, is it too late to take it back?”

Eunae gave her a concerned look.

“Iseul? What’s wrong, dear?”

“I just realized. This makes Heian my sister.”

Rika laughed a little too loudly at that, and Iseul sulked miserably over the unwelcome discovery that she was now related to her most bitter rival. Eunae giggled as well. It was good to be home again, and she was a little embarrassed that she’d ever worried at all.

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Hayakawa Kaede was distracted as she pored over reports from the Yamato-Qin border. It wasn’t that the task was boring—she was used to that, and there was actually quite a lot that one could learn from observing the patterns in enemy movements along contested areas. No, it was Eunae’s reunion with her family that consumed her thoughts.

If they had just been Kaede and Eunae, then she wouldn’t have given it more than a moment of consideration. It wasn’t her business, after all, and she wasn’t in the habit of gossiping or eavesdropping. But they were one, as Yoshika. It wasn’t a matter of eavesdropping or prying in the business of another—Kaede had experienced the entire thing as though she were there, because she was.

Yoshika was accustomed to being in multiple places at once, and her identities could more or less tune out what the others were doing if they needed to, but that didn’t stop them from experiencing everything.

Perhaps it was Aecha’s blatant pushing—the maid could be surprisingly audacious, for all that she maintained a veneer of stoic professionalism—but Eunae’s meeting with her family had highlighted something that bothered her.

Jia had her sisters and Eui, Eui had her parents and Jia. Eunae had Rika, Yun, and Iseul. Meili and Jiaying. All of them had each other. But Kaede...

Kaede was more or less alone.

There was Aecha, of course, but while Kaede appreciated her new retainer’s company, they had not yet known each other long enough to develop any sort of strong bonds. She worked closely with Shogun Ashikaga, but Sae’s brusque attitude and inappropriate flirting had never appealed to her—not the least because of how brazenly manipulative it was. That would never be more than a professional relationship between Lady and Vassal.

Who else? Before becoming Yoshika, Kaede had no friends of her own. Yoshika had friends and family to spare, but they were not necessarily friends of Kaede. They would meet her with the same warmth as any other aspect, but when they looked at her, they saw Yoshika.

She didn’t begrudge them that, but lately she’d been growing more and more acutely aware that as Kaede, she had few friends to speak of. It felt strangely selfish to desire such a specific level of companionship, but the paradoxes inherent to Yoshika’s existence weren’t always positive.

No matter how many friends, family, allies, or even lovers Yoshika had, Kaede could still feel lonely. She’d always been lonely, surrounded by sycophants and toadies, and by the time she’d learned to acknowledge that, it was too late. Yoshika had been her only friends, and now she was Yoshika. They were still friends, of course, but it was hard to be satisfied with just that.

And so, as she filed through the reports, she found herself earnestly considering the nagging questions that Aecha insisted on injecting into every conversation.

Did she return Hyeong Daesung’s feelings? If she did, would he even reciprocate—or was it only Jia that he was smitten with? How could she know without risking embarrassment or abusing her empathic powers?

She couldn’t. That was the part of relationships Kaede always struggled with. The vulnerability of opening her heart to another was terrifying—even when she already shared her soul with four others. It was easy to just be Yoshika, who gave so freely of herself. There was security in that, the parts of her that were uniquely Kaede blended in seamlessly, unidentifiable against the force of Yoshika’s unified personality.

It was much harder to do so without that security. To plainly and directly expose her feelings as Kaede alone was almost harder, now that she had Yoshika’s shadow to hide herself in.

As she wrestled with those troubling thoughts, something caught her eye. Distracted though she may have been, she was still reading the reports and processing the information within. One of them stood out.

It was the kind of thing that one could have easily missed. There was no incident or event to draw her attention, only a more broad pattern, and even that pattern was notable only in what it lacked.

It was always much more difficult to see something when it was missing.

She flipped back through some of the earlier reports to confirm what she’d noticed, and the pattern lined up. No movements. No enemies spotted. Nothing to report. All clear. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Across the entire border, almost all at once, Qin activity just ceased. The most recent report of any movements had been weeks ago. Individually, that wasn’t cause for concern—good news, even. But everywhere?

Perhaps it wasn’t that strange—after all, they were supposedly at an armistice. But in nearly a thousand years, Qin had never left its southern border completely unmanned. There were periods without conflict, to be sure. Ebbs and flows in the skirmishes contesting the lands between the two nations. But to withdraw their forces entirely, even during peacetime, was concerning.

To Kaede, raised as she had been to consider everything from a military perspective, it could only mean one thing. Those forces were needed elsewhere. But for what? Qin had the largest armies in the world. What could possibly require them to reassign even the border that they’d maintained so diligently for nearly a millennium?

Yoshika had a bad feeling that she wasn’t going to like the answer.