Footsteps rushed into the courtyard, dark, lithe feet stopping just before me. I blinked bleary eyes and winced as I raised my head to look up. Who is it? Someone lugged my arm up, their fingers prising into the bruises which ached across my skin. My joints creaked and groaned as though they were eighty years old, and I wasn’t entirely sure that nothing was broken. It had been a while since my last fracture: my forearm once when I’d been sparring three years ago. It had hurt like hell. Damn guards.

Yukiten stood before us, the grin that had gone up to her dark eyes before now replaced with a frown. Her gaze softened as she turned to look at us before swivelling her head toward her uncle once more. ‘What’re ya’ll doin’?’

‘Stay outta this, Yukiten.’ He waved at one of the guards to lead her away, but she shook off the woman’s hand with a glare. Unlike how she’d dealt with us, the guard held back with a sheepish expression and shrugged at Mr Mahato.

‘Why won’t ya help ‘em?’ Yukiten pointed at Dr Chiasa. ‘She’s just lookin’ for her daughter.’ Dr Chiasa nodded, a drop of blood, having trailed down her nose to her chin, falling to the ground at the motion.

My breath stuck in my throat as tendrils of hope grew through me. No one had met Yukiten in the manga. Please convince him. I clenched my fists, thumbs grazing against the scratches and bruises across my fingers. Please.

Mr Mahato’s expression darkened like a thundercloud had passed over him. ‘How do ya know that?’

‘I…’ Yukiten shuffled her feet, drawing circles on the sand with her toes. Her cheeks darkened. ‘I heard ‘em talkin’ about it and told ‘em to come here.’

He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘Ya were outside? Alone?’

‘I went to get fried rice.’ She jutted out her chin in challenge.

‘Ya could’ve told one of the servants to buy it, ya stupid girl!’ He spat. ‘Ya know how--’

‘Well, I’m glad I went ‘cuz I met ‘em an’ know about the missin’ girl!’ She took a step toward us as if protecting us from his wrath. ‘Father would’ve helped--’

Mr Mahato froze for a moment, though whether at Yukiten’s disobedience or what she’d said, I didn’t know. ‘Don’t bring yer father into this. We are not swordsmen to help every riffraff that comes our way.’

She glanced at us, her brows lowered in apology. ‘Well, they can’t. Ministers are involved with the kidnappin’.’

How does she know that? The air around me seemed to chill despite the blazing sun. Had we let it slip somewhere? My muscles shook as a wave of frustration hit me. Mr Mahato would never believe us now. Or help even if he did. Who’d go against Ministers?

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Damn it.

‘Wouldn’t ya look if it were me?’ Yukiten took in a deep breath but held her gaze fixed on her uncle.

‘Ministers are involved?’ Mr Mahato asked, jutting his chin in our direction.

‘Yes,’ Dr Chiasa said, her voice scratchy. ‘They’d targeted her once before but she got away.’

‘How do I know ya’ll aren’t some kinda criminals? Why would the Ministers take her, if yer story were true in the first place?’

‘I don’t know!’ Dr Chiasa shouted. ‘Even if we were criminals, which we aren’t, my daughter isn’t. She’s an innocent child and I need to find her.’ She wiped off some of the still running blood from across her cheek. ‘Please…’

‘Father would’ve helped.’ Yukiten stomped her feet.

Mr Mahato’s gaze shifted onto something far away, or perhaps long ago, as a pensive expression took over his face. I dared not to breathe, hope growing on me like vines, threatening to suffocate me with anticipation. Please agree.

‘Fine, but I’ll need somethin’ of yours before. If I hear I’d been tricked and ya’ll aren’t who ya say ya are, my guards will hunt ya down wherever ya are.’

Something lifted as though I could see after being blinded, breathe after being drowned. I wanted to scream and shout, let the world know my joy, but I squashed it down. A traitorous part within me expected the other foot to drop, for him to tell us he was joking or hadn’t meant it. Celebrations could wait until we found Kaede.

Dr Chiasa stepped forward, prising a ring off of her finger. ‘I’d worn this for twenty years. It should have my trace.’

‘An’ somethin’ of the girl or the kidnapper?’

The words drilled into my brain, putting a stop to my thoughts. Something of the girl? What? But of course. A bitter laugh almost burst out of me before I smothered it. Kaede’s things would show her current location, more reliably even than the kidnapper’s. Why hadn’t I thought of that before jumping in and half-revealing everything?

Because that’s what happened in the manga.

They hadn’t been in Heikisato and Ahio had planned to rush after the kidnapper from there, even if they’d gone back later at Tsubasa’s request. They hadn’t had anything of Kaede’s so Ahio saw the knives as his only shot.

Stupid. Stupid.

How could I have been so blind?

A rush of horror chilled my spine as I watched Dr Chiasa hand over the butterfly-patterned knife and Kaede’s old pair of arm warmers. Dr Chiasa, battered with scratches and scars and bruises but alive. Still alive. And I had, only moments ago…

What else was I blind to?

‘Come back in three days. I should know her location by then.’ Mr Mahato said and gestured at the gate leading back outside.

Dr Chiasa thanked him and led us out.

Throughout the whole way and the next couple of days, I averted my eyes whenever she was nearby, finding great interest in my fingernails, or trousers or whatever else was in front of me. Whenever I caught a glimpse on accident, her chest seemed to split open, her blood spilling everywhere, coating her clothes her hands, the floor. She’s alive, she’s alive, I repeated as a mantra.

But I couldn’t let go of what could’ve been. What I’d have let it become.