From that time on, Yuki met with the young Tora most evenings. He was often called to councils or mandatory parties as was usual for one of his rank, but whenever he was free of obligations, they met. Because of the contract, she was excused from all other requirements, even on nights that he was away. This all went over very well with the administrators, especially Ueda, who began to call her his golden goose.

However, it did not go over very well with the other musicians, especially Misasa and Rin, who found it difficult to hide their envy. Not only did Yuki obtain an exclusive contract with a great daimyō’s heir, but she managed to net one of the best-looking ones. They prodded her incessantly for details, but she did not give in. Mostly, because the details they were asking for did not exist, and also, she did not want to say anything that could ruin her fortunate situation.

As for the ‘wooing’ as Sōichirō thereafter called it, slow but steady progress was being made. It took a good week just for him to be able to remember the lines and deliver them confidently. When he was finally able to do so, his lover was quite impressed, and that day they had a pleasant afternoon together. Yet he did not quite reach his goal.

The next scheduled story was the Tale of the Chisatsu, or the Blood-Slayer, another Miyamoto tale, and yet another that he did not know.

“Although the name of the story appears very fierce,” she explained, “The tale is another story of love, but this is about the very last recorded Miyamoto, who was unfairly given the dubious name. It was rumored that as the line of the Emperors was failing, and the Miyamoto were systematically killed off by the Kirin, the Blood-Slayer, Chisatsu, snuck into the palace, stole the three imperial treasures, and hid them in various locations on the Islands. His goal was to safeguard the throne from imposters in future generations until a worthy heir returned and reclaimed their possessions. Yet he was slain before he could finish, as was his dear wife who happened to be a Kirin, and it is said that their voices still call to one another from across the Islands.”

This took more time to teach, for it was even longer and much more complex than the Tale of Miya-hime. But he relayed it to her piece by piece, and as Tora described it, “It is as if she is staring into the mournful eyes of the Blood-Slayer himself when I tell it.”

Everything was going splendidly, and Yuki, for a brief period, did not feel as if she were living in a constant state of woe.

Yet one day, a few weeks after obtaining her contract with Tora, something unexpected occurred. She was so accustomed to meeting with young daimyō’s heir that she no longer needed a fox to escort her to his usual quarters. However, when she had finished getting ready a tall fox was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

“You shall not be seeing the young Lord Tora tonight,” the stoic fox explained, her voice partially muffled from behind the mask.

“Very well,” Yuki replied, assuming that he must be occupied with other, more pressing matters. She moved to head back up the stairs, but the guard held out her hand to stop her.

“You have another patron tonight,” the fox continued, unwavering. “Follow me.”

She did not give her a chance to reply, and so the flustered Yuki followed closely behind. They cut through Ishihara in an opposite direction than her usual route to Tora.

By the time they reached the moat-side inn, she had a strong suspicion of who she was going to see. This time the fox led her upstairs, to a small room with a view over the water. Kondo Daisuke was again seated at a small table, but this time instead of tea, there was a set meal for two prepared on the table. The fox bowed and left, sliding the door shut behind them.

“Please sit,” he said, motioning her to take the place across from him. He smiled politely at her, and she thought this strange coming from one who was usually grim-faced.

“I don’t have time to eat,” she said, harshly. “I have business tonight. If you are here to check up on me, you can...”

“Sit down!” he cried, and there was plain fury in his eyes. She obeyed out of instinct and fear more than anything. She had rarely seen him explode like that, though the memory of him tossing her against the alley wall had not completely left her mind.

He looked at her for a few moments and gradually calmed himself. “I know that you are free from your other responsibilities tonight, so you can just relax.”

Yuki did not respond but reluctantly capitulated.

“You were quite difficult to get a hold of this time,” he said, his voice returning to the usual passive grit, though there were notes of seething anger below. “For one who is supposed to be my captive, it was almost as if I was asking to see a prized geisha.”

“Your captive?” she repeated.

“Excuse me,” he said, realizing his mistake. “You are not mine alone. But I am still responsible for you, in a sense. I just wonder why it was so difficult to acquire your presence. Yesterday you had obligations, as well as the day before that and the day before that. Could you shine any light upon the matter before I go and speak with Mr. Ueda, or the Lady herself?”

“Well, I shall have you know that I was working,” she said, trying to appear as nonchalant as she could.

“I thought that eyes merely observed and spent most of their time training. Are your older sisters that popular?”

“I am afraid your information is stale. I am not an eye any longer,” she explained flatly. “I am an imouto now, and I see my own patrons.”

This seemed to catch Kondo by surprise. “How?” he asked, his face showing visible concern. “You have scarcely been here a few months! This is why I explicitly disagreed with sending you here! There is no way we can see everything that is going on within these walls. We are essentially blind!”

Yukiana grinned. A part of her enjoyed seeing him like this. “If you must know, a fashionable young daimyō’s heir thought me beautiful and asked Ueda-san to graduate me early.”

“Daimyō?” he stammered. “Which daimyō?”

She was hesitant to tell him, for she knew the rules of Ishihara well enough to respect her patron’s anonymity, but Kondo persuaded her after telling her that he would find out one way or the other. Since she knew he was right, as he was a ninja after all, and since Sōichirō did not seem to covet anonymity, she gave in and told him. This seemed to inflame his anger all the more.

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“I cannot believe they made this deal without telling me!” he said with a scowl. “I am going to have a long discussion with Mr. Ueda as soon as I can.”

Yet she knew none of his words would sway Udea or the Lady for that matter. Tora was simply paying too much and losing him would be a significant blow. Yuki began to eat, insisting that the food would be cold if they waited any longer. She let Kondo seethe in silence, enjoying the meal almost as much as his foul disposition. He was probably envisioning her and young Tora together or trying his best not to.

“Why does he care so much anyway?” she wondered. She looked over at him and saw his face marred with gloom and felt the slightest pang of sympathy for him. The splendor of the meal obviously meant something. They were having grilled clams, scallops, and seabream, which was often eaten for auspicious events.

“What is the occasion?” she finally asked, sipping down her sake. She had learned to drink sake from Sōichirō, who allowed her to sample from his cups every night. This was not lost on Kondo, who was eyeing her warily. Her clothes, her makeup, and her demeanor all made her seem quite different than the naïve little girl he had taken from Kokoro months ago.

After a few moments, he straightened up and spoke. “I will soon be departing on an important errand,” he said quietly. “I wanted to celebrate a little before I left. I thought you could use a nice meal and a break from your duties.”

“Tora-sama is feeding me quite well, thank you,” she shot back. “And really, you must be a lonely soul if your idea of a celebration is dinner with your captive.”

Kondo glowered at her, but he said nothing. This made her feel a bit too cruel, so she followed up on a softer note. “Where will you be going this time?”

“North,” he replied, vague as always, but he seemed happy that she asked. “This is the mission for which all these years I have been trained. If all goes well, I will be part of a great wave that will sweep these Islands and wash away the soot of the War of Ashes. Then, I will have accomplished my goal.”

“And what do you want, Kondo-san?” Yuki asked pointedly. “Why must you do all of this?”

He deliberated for several moments before answering. “I want to be…” he said at last, “Great. That is what I have always wanted. I want to matter to this world, and I want them to judge me not by my sins, but by what I have done in the end. I have done many things of which I am not proud, but soon they will see that it was all for good. I want them to say, ‘There goes Kondo Daisuke, a man of great honor.’”

At this Yuki appeared to wince and shook her head solemnly. “You aim too high, I think. No man can claim greatness as if it is something to be grasped. Money, political power, and fame are things one can achieve. But true greatness, that can only be found within.”

“Ha!” Kondo snarled. “So, after a few months in a brothel, you have become an expert on the matter?”

His insult stung, but she let it glance off of her. “No,” she admitted. “I am no expert. But I am no stranger to lore, and I have never heard of a man who became great because he simply desired it. Those few either had it in them or had it forced upon them. Most of the time, it was a bit of both. Your quest has already failed, because you desire to claim at the end what can only be found in the beginning.”

“I am not here to debate philosophy with a child!” Kondo retorted. “No one becomes great by mere happenstance. They must earn it as well. They must take the chances they receive, and this is my chance. Now, I don’t want to hear any more of this!” He took a long draught of his drink and set the cup firmly down.

“I am sorry,” Yuki apologized, not knowing what to say. “I hope you get everything you desire.”

Kondo gave her a wry smile and continued to chew in silence. When he had finished, he said, “There is still no word of your father, but I think he is getting closer.”

Yuki smiled. “I think so too. I am resolved to stay alive until he does.”

The ninja said nothing for a few additional moments. It appeared that he had something rehearsed, but it had not gone well up until now. He cleared his throat and said, “In my absence, another of my order will be watching you. She is less sociable than I am, so you probably will not see her. But just know that if you try to leave, she will find you.”

“I understand.”

Kondo pushed himself back. He had lost the usual triumphal air about him and appeared somehow less than she knew he was. “There is a chance that I may not return from this,” he said quietly, staring down into his sake cup. “There are very few who will mourn me if I don’t come back.”

“Then you cannot fail,” she said plainly.

Kondo lifted his gaze and saw her staring at him.

“I hate you, Kondo Daisuke, make no mistake,” she stated. “But I do not desire to see you die, alone, without a single soul to mourn you. I hope that you do become as great as you hope to be, and when you do, I hope you use that power to help others have a better life. Better than mine at least.”

Her final words seemed to strike a blow in him, though he tried with all his might to remain balanced. His polite smile was more like a frown, and his eyes shimmered in the dim light of the room.

“So,” he said, rising to his feet, “This is goodbye then.” He moved to walk away but suddenly paused mid-stride. He rummaged through one of his pockets and then turned and extended his hand out to her. In it was the pearl colored magatama that her father had given her on the day of the summer festival. She had completely forgotten about it during her ordeal. The only difference was that instead of being hung around a waxed fiber necklace, there was a thin silver chain in its stead. Kondo must have exchanged them, but why?

“When I first captured you back in Kokoro I found this. It belongs to you,” he said quietly. “You should have it back.”

She stared down at the smooth stone set around silver and then back at Kondo. Why was he doing this?

“Thank you,” she managed to say, and carefully took the magatama from his hand.

He nodded, walked to the door, but then stopped one last time. Without turning, he said, “Be careful out there. The world can be a dangerous place, and I can no longer protect you.” With those parting words, he simply left.

Yuki remained behind, her gaze fixed upon the milky white stone and silver cord. She did not know what to think, or how to feel.

She returned to her building in a daze, thinking of both Kondo and the young Tora. They were altogether quite different. Sōichirō was youthful and immature, but he was also highborn, charming, and handsome. He had a gift for words and the appeal of innocence. He dressed in the finest clothes and styles of the day. He was also tenderhearted and, on the whole, good.

Kondo, on the other hand, could hardly speak at all unless he was issuing commands or threats. He had a penchant for violence and blood on his hands. He was quiet, brooding, and troubled. He dressed like a vagabond but somehow still seemed impressive in a raw, masculine kind of way. Most of all, he could fight, and though she hated him, she did not feel afraid of anything else if he was nearby.

She considered all this very carefully but, in the end, she could not decide who was better, though it mattered little.

“They both have their strong points,” she mused. “Tora is like the sun, bright and splendid. Kondo is like the moon, dark and mysterious.”

Amid her contemplation, she also felt a strong revulsion that was impossible to ignore. “Yet they both have power over me,” she finally realized, “And I am nothing to them but a pawn in their own games.”

This thought was deeply depressing, and it was only the commotion above that broke her from spiraling. She had reached the bottom floor of her house, and there appeared to be a riot going on in the upper floors. Girls were yelling, and Ueda was also barking orders. Before she could tell what was happening, a tight grip clasped around her wrist and pulled her back out of the house.

It was Rin, and her face was as white as a ghost. “Come with me!” she whispered, tugging at her violently.

“What’s going on?” Yuki gasped, still reeling from surprise.

Her older sister appeared frightfully anxious, but she did not reply.

Finally, Yukiana had recovered enough to pull her hand from her older sister’s grasp. “Tell me!” she demanded, this time stopping dead in the street.

Rin swirled and bit on her tongue as she weighed her words carefully. She was sweating and breathing heavily. Her eyes shot back and forth frantically as if she were a mouse fleeing from a prowling cat. After a few moments, she spoke.

“Someone from our family is suspected of spying on the Lady…” she said in a harsh whisper. “Whoever they convict will surely be killed.”

“What?” Yuki gasped, beginning to realize the gravity of the situation. “Killed?”

“They don’t yet know who it is.” Rin drew in closer to Yuki so that only she could hear. “They will suspect all of us.”

Yuki instinctively brought her voice lower, seeing the fear in Rin’s midnight eyes. “Do you know who it was?”

“Yes!” she hissed, putting her lips to Yuki’s ear. “It was me!”