Kuro flinched, waiting for the final bite of steel as was his punishment, but Ren pointed the sword toward himself and sheathed it.

He rushed up to Kuro, hands raised to touch Kuro’s shoulder, and his face drained of colour.

“Are you okay?” Ren asked, studying Kuro’s hand.

No, Kuro was not okay. His eyes prickled in humiliation. But Ren probably didn’t care about that. He meant the wound. Kuro swallowed the huge lump in his throat, and nodded. Kuro hadn’t checked it, and he really didn’t want to lift his hand, but no matter how deep the cut, he hadn’t lied. He would be fine. Unless it was worse than a mortal wound, Kuro would heal.

“Here, lift your hand.” Ren pried gently at his fingers.

“I’m not that weak!” Kuro snapped.

Ren pulled his hands back, and lifted his eyes from Kuro’s shoulder to his face, as if searching.

Kuro looked away. “Sorry. I should have — I should have done better.”

“You just need to watch your feet when moving,” Ren said. “You crossed your legs, instead of stepping just shy of your other foot. That tripped you. Classic beginner mistake.”

Kuro’s face must have burned scarlet, for his entire body burned under his skin. Beginner. Mistake.

“Let me check, Kuro, please.” Ren didn’t sound angry. Not even irritated. He pleaded with Kuro.

Kuro nodded and let Ren pry his hand up.

“It’s bleeding but it’s small. It doesn’t look that bad.”

Not bad enough to warrant Ren’s concern. Meaning he wasted more of Ren’s time. That he made any demon watching think that Ren’s familiar was so weak that he couldn’t shrug off a pinprick.

“Of course not.” Kuro wrenched himself away. “You should have cut deeper if you wanted to punish me. The Shogun nearly beheaded me, and I still saved you at the execution grounds!”

“Excuse me for being concerned,” Ren snapped. “Excuse me for caring that you train so Gorou doesn’t murder you. The Shogun left you half-dead on the ground outside this very castle.”

Leaving the Shogun in the same condition, Ren forgot to add. The Shogun had been far too hurt by the fall to attempt another siege, and with winter approaching, he’d have to wait until spring. Kuro had done that. But no, Ren wanted to focus on Kuro passing out, on Kuro having been so tortured from hitting the onmyouji’s barrier that he’d struggled to even stay up on his paws.

And he’d only made it that far because the Cat Girl had for some reason died to protect him.

“But of course you don’t need to get stronger,” Ren huffed. “To learn to fight. Kuchisake says you just need to exist. Right. It’s not as if Gorou will be out to kill you. Oh wait. That’s the first thing he’ll do.”

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“I fared better than you did,” Kuro snapped. “I at least kept the Kusanagi out of the Shogun’s grasp.”

“You were dying.” Ren’s nostrils flared, his voice thick and hoarse. “You were lying on the leaves, broken. Cold. If we hadn’t found you—”

“And I healed just fine!” Kuro crossed his arms, even as the roughness of Ren’s voice wrung his heart.

Ren snapped his mouth shut. His throat flexed, and his nostrils flared.

Kuro shrugged and turned his back. “Perhaps you need training, but I’m just fine. I’ll survive. I always do.”

He’d heal. Ren wouldn’t. He was human, mortal. Yet, Kuro could all too easily see Ren flinging himself in between Kuro and a blade. Kuro squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t block out the visions of blood streaking through the air, the way Ren’s body, like the Cat Girl’s, would hang in the air as if the moment itself had frozen in place.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Ren said.

Kuro straightened.

“I was so naive that I handed him the Kusanagi. That I gave away my right to rule Oyashima.” Ren’s voice cracked. Kuro turned back, hands itching to take Ren’s hands, to tell him he hadn’t really meant it. But Ren went on, voice sharp as steel. “But then again, you made sure that no one could stop his coronation.”

“W-what?” Kuro babbled. “But only the one chosen by the Kusanagi—”

“There is no Kusanagi. Not any longer. You made sure of that. Gorou can name himself emperor, and the only way to stop him is to kill him.”

Kuro chewed his bottom lip. Was there a word stronger than idiot? Because that was what Kuro was, for not seeing something so obvious. “But—”

“But what?” Ren asked. “But you’d rather spend all day napping under your kotatsu? That you care about mochi more than your impending death?”

Just hearing Ren admit that sent shivers through Kuro. He’d blame it on the chill as the first snowflakes of the year drifted down to land on his shoulders. “But that’s why I came.”

Ren arched his brow.

“Obviously, I wasn’t just eating mochi and napping,” Kuro — well, he didn’t lie. He had been secretly training. “I’ve been getting into Kuchisake’s good graces.”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Ren went straight as a pillar, hand going to his sword pommel. He hadn’t even reacted so strongly when Kuro had jabbed him about his duel with the Shogun.

But why? Was it really so shocking that Kuro could be useful? Or just thinking it was such a useless move, since obviously Ren could get information from her. So why hadn’t he found out about this?

“Gossip, interesting information,” Kuro continued, his hands twitching. “What if you could get the Kusanagi fragment fixed? Then you’d be the rightful ruler again. The Shogun would have to step down.”

Ren curled his lip. “Gorou need not do anything he doesn’t care to do.”

“But the humans—”

“Will side with the hero who ended the Warring Demons period.”

“But couldn’t stop the Night Parade. Couldn’t stop the demons from driving farmers from their lands, or eating them.”

Ren sighed, so disappointed. “If Gorou had cared to, those demons would have been destroyed and the land secured.”

“So why hasn’t he?” Kuro demanded. “Now that he drove you away, what’s stopping him? Because oh yeah, he was using farmers as bait. And still couldn’t kill enough demons to secure anything.”

“Only Gorou knows why.” Ren dropped his eyes. His knuckles went white as he tightened his grip on the pommel, but Kuro didn’t think he’d draw it. Take his anger and frustration out on Kuro. Kuro stepped back anyway.

“We don’t need to know what his plans are to disrupt them,” Kuro argued. “The Kusanagi—”

“We don’t need the Kusanagi,” Ren snapped. “We do need the Night Parade’s loyalty. I can only take back my empire by force. You should already know this. But what should I expect? You to lift your head up for long enough to see what’s going on around you?”

Kuro cringed, backing up. He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have interrupted Ren’s training session and drawn attention to him. Even if Ren was forgetting that the Kusanagi was a powerful weapon in its own right.

Ren sighed. “Go back to your blankets and your treats.”

Without waiting for a response from Kuro, Ren strode past him and entered the castle.

Not that Kuro had a response. Not even a stupid jab at the closed door. Ren was right, and Kuro should have never pretended to know better.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.