> Spring, Mountain Pass, Border to Satsuma, 1551

Harutora rode ahead alone, leaving the rest of us behind in a tense standstill.

He had asked for silence, gesturing for his men to remain at the far side of the clearing. I could only watch as he urged his horse forward, dust swirling around the hooves, quiet as a whisper.

The Kensai-ryū blockade awaited him, the line of warriors in spattered armor, faces showing scars of past battles. Dried blood clung to their blades. Some sat on massive warhorses, calm and grim, while others stood on foot nearby.

The scent of steel and sweat hovered like a storm cloud.

At their center, a man with black hair tied in a messy ponytail leaned forward in his saddle. Two thin scars trailed across his cheek. His eyes gleamed an unsettling red, and he wore a lopsided grin that betrayed no fear.

Behind me, the Kikuchi warriors whispered among themselves, watching their young lord ride out alone.

“Why send a child?” one muttered, gripping his spear tightly.

An older warrior shook his head. “If anyone else went, they’d cut us down before a single word was spoken.”

I stood near Koharu, swallowing back the knot in my throat. My entire body felt tight, as if bracing for a blow that hadn’t yet fallen. Harutora... you’d better know what you’re doing.

As Harutora drew close, the Kensai-ryū leader raised a hand. The warriors around him chuckled, some nudging each other.

“Look at this,” one murmured, voice thick with amusement.

“Oi!” the leader called, raising his voice. “You must be the child-lord we’ve heard so much about.” He sounded amused, almost playful, as if this were a game. The scars on his face creased with his grin.

Harutora pulled his horse to a stop, forcing himself to swallow the tight knot of nerves in his throat. He kept his voice level. “We need to pass through these mountains. Let us through.”

The leader brushed a stray lock of hair from his scarred face, his red eyes flickering with mischief.

“You’ve got nerve, boy. Word is your clan’s on its last legs.” He tilted his head. “I don’t even know your name, yet you come asking for favors?”

Harutora clenched his jaw, then bowed stiffly. “I am Kikuchi Harutora, leader of these men. Allow us safe passage, and this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

A low chuckle rippled through the Kensai-ryū ranks. The leader’s grin widened. “You say it like you’re offering me a choice. But what if I want a fight?”

Harutora exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to rise to the bait.

“We have wounded, but we can still fight. And if we do, you will suffer casualties.” His voice was even. “If strength is all that matters to you, take us under your banner instead. Let us fight for you, and in exchange, give us safe passage.”

The air in the canyon shifted.

The smirks of some Kensai-ryū men turned into something more interested, more intrigued. They glanced at each other, murmuring. One warrior even let out a whistle, half-impressed.

The leader let out a bark of laughter, running a gloved finger over one of his scars. “So,” he mused, eyes glinting. “You’re offering yourselves to us?”

Harutora tightened his grip on the reins. “My men can still hold a blade,” he said coldly. “Better to become allies than waste lives on both sides.”

A Kensai-ryū warrior snorted. “If they can fight, let them prove it. That’s our law.”

The leader studied Harutora in silence for a moment, gaze flicking to the dirt-streaked armor, the exhausted horse beneath him.

Then at last his grin returned, sharper this time.

“You may have iron in your soul, boy-lord.” He leaned back, rolling his shoulders lazily. “Fine, then. I’m Arashi Shigure. And I accept your offer. You all will have to prove yourselves.”

The Kensai-ryū around Shigure stiffened, as if reacting to a signal Harutora couldn’t hear. A few even exchanged knowing glances, and Shigure’s grin sharpened with sudden anticipation.

Relief flickered across Harutora’s face. His posture loosened just slightly, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Then it’s settled.”

He turned his horse, trotting back toward the Kikuchi formation. From the distance, his men watched as he approached, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

Yet, for the first time in days, a fragile but real hope began to take shape.

A half-smile ghosted across Harutora’s lips. He had bluffed, and it had worked.

But as Harutora drew near, a horn blast shattered the fragile calm. Its roar echoed off the canyon walls, chilling me to the core.

Harutora’s eyes widened. “What—?”

Shigure and his warriors exploded into motion, warhorses surging forward with malicious speed, swords drawn, laughter and war-cries merging into something terrible.

“No!” Harutora choked, horror twisting his face as he realized the betrayal.

Every muscle in my body tensed.

A Kikuchi soldier yelled in panic, and everything unraveled in seconds.

The mounted retainers, those who had not dismounted earlier, gave in to raw fear. They bolted down the pass, leaving the rest of us behind like discarded debris

All around me, the Kikuchi fell into disarray.

“Wait!” a warrior cried, reaching out to the shadows of galloping riders. “Don’t leave us!” But the thunder of hooves and triumphant Kensai-ryū battle cries drowned him out.

Masanari’s shout cracked through the canyon like a whip, snapping Harutora’s reins. “Move or die, boy!”

In that instant, our formation broke like glass. Harutora tore his gaze from his men on foot, anguish wild in his eyes. “They’ll die…” he whispered, voice ragged. I saw his shoulders tremble with guilt, but Masanari yanked him away with no mercy.

I ground my teeth, fury boiling in my chest. They’re leaving us? The thought lashed me as the foot soldiers fell into disarray, trampled by charging horses.

All around me, foot soldiers cried out in despair, trampled beneath the onslaught.

Somewhere behind me, Koharu screamed my name. My mind snapped back: Protect her. That’s all that matters now.

I seized Koharu’s arm, pulling her close. “Run!” I shouted, as the world dissolved into dust and screams.

A soldier dashed by, begging for help, but a Kensai-ryū rider cut him down in one swing. Blood sprayed, painting the rocks.

My breath hitched. Focus.

“The rocky walls… we can’t outrun them,” I muttered, lungs burning with each raw inhale. “Koharu, don’t look back!” I shouted, my voice cracking.

She held onto me, eyes huge with terror.

If we fled blindly, they’d cut us down from behind.

We swerved around a jagged boulder, pebbles skittering underfoot. Heart pounding, I pressed Koharu into the rock’s shelter. “Stay low,” I rasped.

Her fingers shook on my sleeve. I forced a harsh grin. “I won’t let them hurt you.” I couldn’t help thinking it might be the last promise I ever made.

The cavalry thundered past in a blur of steel and hooves, the canyon echoing with the dying wails of Kikuchi men.

Damn you, Harutora. Masanari. Anger flared, hot and unforgiving. You left us like dogs to die. But I pushed the betrayal aside. There was no time.

My chest seized with betrayal.

Horses galloped past in a storm of dust, steel clashing in the distance. Someone wailed for their lords again, but the echo vanished into the wider nightmare.

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My focus narrowed: me and the next Kensai-ryū warrior who spotted me.

One Kensai-ryū spotted me, eyes igniting with the thrill of easy prey.

He spurred his horse forward, blade reflecting the dusty sunlight. My teeth clenched as I raised both wakizashi. No choice.

No one’s coming to save us. I saw my mother’s blood, the flames eating through our village. Never again.

“All right,” I hissed, breath ragged. “Come and get me.”

His first slash grazed my shoulder. Pain tore through me, but I raked one blade across the horse’s flank. The animal screamed, bucking. The rider cursed, struggling to regain balance. “You little rat!”

He came at me again, sword whistling in a diagonal arc. I crossed my blades and blocked, sparks flickering where steel met steel. My arms trembled under the impact, but I mustered the strength to shove him back.

He scowled, forcing the horse to circle. “Faster than you look,” he muttered. “But you won’t last.”

Snorting, I spat blood. We’ll see.

He urged his mount forward. I sidestepped, aiming a slash at his leg, but he twisted in the saddle, deflecting my blade. Dust clouded my sight.

Another scuffle ended with me nearly losing my footing, a shallow cut stinging my side.

Suddenly, a Kikuchi soldier rushed the rider from behind with a desperate spear thrust.

The Kensai-ryū cut him down in a single fluid motion, not even sparing him a second glance. My stomach lurched. He’s unstoppable.

I heard Koharu’s ragged breath at my back and felt her dread.

I can’t fall here.

He turned again, venom in his eyes. “Any last words?”

My fists trembled around the hilts. “Go to—”

But he never finished. A slash from behind took him in the spine. His body jerked, mouth gaping. He toppled from the horse with a strangled cry, revealing another figure standing over him—Arashi Shigure.

His sword dripped with fresh blood, that half-smile still playing on his lips. “You’re hogging the good ones,” he told the fallen warrior, flicking off the gore. His red irises landed on me. “I want to play too.”

The rider he’d killed twitched once, then lay still. My breath stuttered, eyes wide. Shigure killed his own man?

He turned fully toward me, the scars on his cheek pulling as his grin deepened. “Hah…so you’re the mongrel giving my men trouble?”

My grip tightened around my wakizashi. “Trouble, huh?”

Shigure chuckled, pacing closer with lazy confidence. “Surprised you’ve lasted this long, boy. You’re quick on your feet, let’s see how quick.”

I swallowed, adrenaline surging anew. “If you want my life...then take it,” I spat, my voice raw with pain. “But I won’t kneel.”

He grinned, stepping closer. “You amuse me.”

I lunged in a desperate slash. He sidestepped effortlessly, his smile never fading.

Then I feinted high, pivoted low, and struck for his ribs. Sparks burst as his blade met mine, deflecting the blow with ease.

He vanished from my sight and reappeared at my flank. A flash of silver, then searing pain.

I hissed, stumbling as blood seeped from a shallow cut.

Steel clashed, ringing through the canyon. I attacked again, faster, harder, wild slashes, rapid thrusts, anything to force an opening. But he was untouchable, slipping through my offense like a ghost.

Another blur. Another strike. A sharp crack of metal against bone. My body screamed, bruises blooming with every failed parry.

I grit my teeth. Move, damn it!

Shigure hardly seemed winded, almost dancing around my strikes, letting me graze him now and then just to keep the fight interesting.

Koharu’s soft cry pulsed in the back of my mind: Ryōma…

I pushed my muscles harder, ignoring the burn. My blades whipped through the air in a flurry of slashes and thrusts, all laced with raw desperation.

Each strike carried that flicker of Ki I’d been trying to refine. The same willpower that had driven me to survive until now…but Shigure was a storm.

He parried everything, wearing a casual grin as though we were sparring, not fighting to the death.

“You’ve got heart,” he observed between blows, voice tinged with amusement. “But you’re barely more than a 5th rank peak disciple.”

He caught my left wakizashi in a lock and twisted.

With a gasp, I felt the weapon fly from my grip, clattering to the ground. I lashed out blindly with the other blade, only for him to duck under my arm.

A sharp pain exploded in my back as he rammed his elbow into me.

My knees buckled, almost caving.

No...I must stand!

I forced myself up, swinging out in a broad arc. He sidestepped, hooking his foot behind mine. My balance faltered, and I collapsed onto my side, dust billowing around me.

He planted a boot on my wrist, pinning me. The canyon seemed to hush around us, focusing on my rapid breathing.

“You do fight like a wild mongrel,” he mused, pressing enough weight to make me gasp. “But how many times can you get back up?”

I spat blood, glaring defiantly. “Go to… hell…”

His boot pressed harder, testing my limit.

Gkkh...! I choked, my breath shuddering.

“Kill me already!” I snapped, ignoring the red haze creeping at my vision.

He just laughed a rich, echoing sound that cut through the canyon’s chaos.

Around us, the sounds of the ongoing slaughter dulled, as though the Kensai-ryū were too entertained by their leader’s newest find.

Shigure shifted, placing his foot on my chest now, careful not to crush me entirely. “A child with fire in his eyes,” he said, almost admiringly. “Hah! I like you.”

My vision swam, but I clenched my teeth. Tch...! Damn it...

“Then kill me,” I snarled, forcing the words out. “Get it… over with.”

His grin deepened, revealing faint lines at the corners of his eyes. “I could,” he said softly. “But first—your name, son.”

A dark laugh escaped me, coated with bitterness. “Taira Ryōma,” I rasped, voice trembling from pain.

He nodded, as though satisfied. Lifting his sword high, he shifted his boot to my chest, bearing down until I thought my ribs might crack.

“Ryōma,” he repeated, savoring the syllables. “Hn.”

Then a tremor rattled the canyon floor, sending pebbles skidding. Horses stomped nervously, Kensai-ryū glancing around with uneasy scowls. That unnatural beat—like distant drums—reverberated through the rocks.

Shigure hesitated, removing his boot from my chest, pivoting to glare in the direction of the drums.

I gasped for air, free from Shigure’s pressure if only for a moment. Around us, everything hushed under that omnipresent beat, echoing off the canyon walls.

My heart thudded in my ears, matching the drum’s pace.

The Kikuchi soldiers who had been fleeing for their lives suddenly reversed course, sprinting back toward us.

Some clutched at wounds, others simply ran, their faces twisted in wild, animal fear. Their eyes rolled in panic, as if they had glimpsed something even worse behind them.

My heart clenched. Why are they running back?

“RUN! RUN BACK—!” a soldier screamed, stumbling over loose gravel. His voice cracked with sheer terror, his face ashen.

I felt my blood boil with renewed anger. They came back? After leaving us to die?

Grit and blood coated my tongue as I struggled to push myself up. My arms trembled, my body screaming in protest, but I forced it to move.

The Kensai-ryū had backed away, their initial amusement now replaced by something closer to unease. Their formation wavered as they exchanged glances, hands hovering over their weapons.

The drums grew louder.

Shigure’s men glanced uneasily at one another. “What in blazes is that?” one muttered, tightening his grip on his reins.

Out of the corner of my eye, two horses tore through the dust, galloping hard.

A fresh wave of dust billowed in their wake. Even before I could make out their faces, I knew them.

Harutora and Masanari...

Rage and relief warred inside me.

Harutora barely managed to pull his mount to a halt. “There’s no time… The Ōtomo—” He choked on a breath, panic tightening his voice. “They’ve flanked us from the other side with at least 200 men!”

Masanari reined in, posture rigid, eyes flicking to the remaining Kikuchi. “We can’t escape this pass. We’re trapped.”

200 men?!

My lungs burned, but I forced myself to focus. Another thunderous drumbeat hammered the canyon.

Shigure stiffened. “The Ōtomo, you say?” He let out a curse, wiping blood from his blade. “So that’s what that sound is.”

His men shifted uneasily. One warrior muttered under his breath, “But… they said they wouldn’t interfere.”

Another turned his head, scanning the cliffs. “Why the hell are they here?”

A heavy silence fell over the Kensai-ryū. Their previous amusement faded.

I swallowed, my throat dry. Something about their words stuck with me. I narrowed my eyes at the Kensai-ryū warriors who had spoken.

They said the Ōtomo wouldn’t interfere… So why are they here? How did they know we’d be coming through this pass?

Shigure’s grip on his sword tightened. “Hold your positions,” he ordered, his usual grin thinning into something unreadable. “We wait.”

The realization sank into my gut. With Kensai-ryū in front and the Ōtomo behind, no one was getting out alive without a miracle.

I clenched my fists, ignoring the blood streaking my face.

Nearby, Koharu huddled against the canyon wall, eyes darting between Harutora and me, desperate for reassurance.

Harutora caught my gaze for an instant. Guilt flashed across his features, an apology he couldn’t speak.

My fury still simmered, but I had no time to unleash it. The thunder of the Ōtomo drums grew, rattling us to the core.

Between two armies, the canyon walls offered no escape...just cold, unyielding stone. We were trapped.

Birds caged in stone, my mind echoed, flightless and doomed.