MIKO

Since the Century of Woe, the Yatto Empire has instituted a strict system to regulate and rank its soultamers.

All soultamers, whether in training or on active duty, are required to wear a colored sash that signifies their mastery.

White: Unranked initiates.

Yellow: Novices with basic abilities (partial transformation, basic elemental controls).

Green: Practitioners who have mastered the fundamentals. From this rank onwards, soultamers can take a qualifying exam.

Blue: Proficiency in combat and advanced blood magic. Often assigned leadership roles in squads or apprenticeships under higher ranks.

Purple: Experts capable of wielding complex blood magic and commanding multiple units in battle.

Brown: Veterans who often serve as advisors or strategists. May qualify for a position in Royal Guards (excluding Gold Swords).

Black: Black sash wearers are legends in their own right, often serving directly under the Emperor. Most regard these as the pinnacle of soultaming, while some, like Master Otomi, claim this is barely the first step of the journey.

– Account of the Century of Woe (attributed to Master Godo)

The Takami family wasn’t part of the old blood, but from a commoner’s perspective, that was the difference between the moon and the stars. Either way, they were out of reach.

Lord Takami’s manor wasn’t the grandest in the village. It didn’t boast gilded halls or sprawling gardens, but its size and quiet opulence spoke to the subtle power the family once wielded.

The corridors twisted and turned like a maze, and even Miko sometimes found herself second-guessing which door led to where.

She had lived here her entire life, yet it never truly felt like hers.

The dining hall, as always, was formal and subdued. The long lacquered table was lined with dishes of steamed rice, pickled vegetables, and braised meats.

The room was quiet save for the clink of porcelain against silver and the soft crackling of embers in the hearth.

Lord Takami sat at the head of the table. His sharp features were thrown into stark relief by the flickering candlelight.

Opposite him was Lady Ohana, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable as ever.

Miko wasn’t eating. She couldn’t summon the will to force down even a single bite. Instead, her attention drifted to her father and stepmother, who were exchanging words in hushed tones.

“Troubling news from the Royal City,” Lord Takami said softly.

Miko’s ears perked up. She tried to lean in without making it obvious, but their discussion was too quiet.

She tried to read her father’s lip but all she could make out was “Quwri… the prince?”

The Quwri prince? Miko’s brow furrowed. She strained to catch more, but their voices dropped even lower, and she was left puzzling over fragments that made no sense.

To Miko’s right, her two half-brothers, Sai and Temu, toyed with their food.

Sai, the younger one, hummed quietly to himself, while Temu seemed lost in his thoughts, chewing slower than usual.

“We came across another pack of corrupted beasts.” This time, Lord Takami announced it to everyone, his deep voice filling the room as he sliced into his meal. “They keep growing bolder.”

Sai made an unintelligible sound. Other than that, nobody said anything. When Lord Takami was talking, everyone was expected to keep quiet.

“Our last expedition saw five of them,” Lord Takami continued. “Embermanes. Would you believe it?” He scoffed.

“Lord Mayami and I dispatched three of them. Not with ease, mind you. Ayani was supposed to kill the rest, but what can you expect from a jumpstart little boy like him? He has the heart of a Southerner.”

Miko’s spoon hovered over her bowl. Her hands were still red from punching the ground a few hours ago but at least the wounds have healed up.

Although exhausted, she listened carefully, not even daring to raise her eyes from her plate. Her half-brothers leaned in, enraptured.

“I tried to tell them that building a coal plant this close to the forest was foolish,” Lord Takami was practically talking to himself. “But who ever listens to Lord Takami?”

Another coal plant? Miko almost asked. The rate at which these popped up around the Narwa province could put mushrooms to shame.

Even she could tell that this intrusion into the forest would provoke beasts to retaliate.

But despite all his posturing, her lord father should have been thankful. After all, it was his job as a soultamer to keep the beasts at bay.

“In any case, one of the embermanes is still unaccounted for.” Lord Takami slowly dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Until we catch it, the forests are a forbidden area.”

He briefly eyed Miko. She decided not to show any reaction to this news.

I am a good-natured daughter, father. Just like you always wanted, remember?

Her stepmother glanced over at her. “Do you not enjoy your meal, Miko?” she asked gently.

Miko forced herself to nod, even as her appetite faded.

“But enough of this. I grow bored of these stories,” Lord Takami said as if his stories were as intricate as that puppet show they had watched.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He put down his chopsticks and set his gaze on Teru, a look that could carve stone. “Your teacher has been showering you with praise.”

“Oh,” Teru said and stole a glance at Miko. The teacher’s praise was all thanks to her.

Stop it or father will notice! Miko wanted to scream at him.

“Then tell me, Teru,” Lord Takami continued, “How many threat levels there are?”

Teru loudly inhaled and stiffened in his seat. The color seemed to drain from his face as he struggled to summon the right words.

This is child’s play, Miko thought. She should have been the one to answer! She was the one who had spent hours poring over the scrolls. It wasn’t fair.

She felt the urge to speak rise in her throat but quickly swallowed it down. I shouldn’t embarrass Teru.

Instead, she pressed her fingertips against her thigh so that only Teru would notice. Her brother’s gaze drifted down.

“F-five,” he stammered.

“Even I knew that!” Sai said. That was a lie.

“Correct,” Lord Takami replied, without a hint of warmth. His eyes never left Teru’s face. “And how would you recognize a corrupted beast?”

Come on, you should at least know this much! Miko thought. There was no way to share the right answer with her brother. He was on his own now.

She knew the answer, of course. But of what use was her knowledge if she would never have the chance to put it into practice?

Her fingers were still resting on her leg as if she’d never moved them.

“A c-corrupted beast,” Teru began with a strained voice. He tried to remember what the schoolbooks said. “In some c-cases, its aura becomes, uh, visible.”

Lord Takami regarded him with a look of measured approval, nodding slowly. He waited for more.

When Teru failed to come up with anything, Lord Takami exhaled loudly through his nostrils.

“I expect better of my blood. Genki would have answered this with ease.”

The mention of Genki’s name made Miko feel the blood in her mouth again. Teru hid his eyes in a cup.

“Which reminds me,” Lord Takami announced suddenly. “There’s something I need to discuss with Genki’s father.”

Miko groaned inaudibly. She wanted to ask something but quickly stopped herself.

But… what was this look on her father’s face?

Miko glanced at Lady Ohana, whose calm, unreadable expression only made the suspicion worse.

"I left the matter of deciding your husband in your father’s hands," her stepmother had said not so long ago.

At the time, the words had seemed distant, irrelevant.

Now they rang like a gong in her ears.

No. This cannot be. Not him.

Her stomach churned violently, and she fought to keep her face neutral, even as panic clawed at her throat.

Silly girl, your mind is playing tricks on you again, she thought, desperate to cling to some shred of disbelief.

But when her eyes met Lady Ohana’s again, there was no mistaking the truth. Her stepmother knew. She had always known.

“Pray excuse me,” Miko said abruptly, bowing low before walking away from the table. She didn’t wait for anyone to acknowledge her. The air in the room was suffocating.

Out in the hallway, the walls seemed to close in, the corridors too narrow, the house too stifling.

She was afraid she would collapse before reaching her room.

I can’t remain here. Not a single day more.

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She was going to run away. Again.

The chances were, Lord Takami would catch her.

Again.

But Miko has gone beyond caring for consequences.

Her heart was pounding. This was it—she was leaving. No more suffocating rules. No more expectations she could never meet.

And no marriage. Not ever!

Her room was dark, save for the faint glow of the moon slipping through the wooden slats of the window. Miko moved carefully, silently, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the few possessions she had laid out on her mat.

The old floorboards creaked traitorously beneath her feet. From time to time, she would pause, hold her breath, and listen for any sign of movement in the house.

But there was only wind outside.

Her hand brushed over a faded silk pouch. Inside were her writing tools: an inkstone, a brush, and a small pot of ink she had ground herself. She couldn’t leave without them.

The thought of abandoning the scraps of herself she’d poured onto scrolls was unbearable. She tucked the pouch into her satchel.

Next, she turned to her father’s scrolls. One detailed the principles of blood forging, and another spoke of the southern provinces, their beasts, and their strange customs.

She hadn’t read them all yet, but knowledge was power, wasn’t it? Lord Takami always said that.

But thinking of her father only made Miko angrier. Who cares what my father says?

She rolled the scrolls carefully and secured them with twine. She shoved everything into the satchel, the bag now bulging with mismatched items.

That should have been it but for some reason, Miko stayed in her room and looked over everything a few times.

Why am I hesitating now? she thought bitterly. She should feel free, shouldn’t she?

Her eyes flicked to the door. Her stomach churned. Why does this feel so much harder than it should?

Her father would be furious, of course. Perhaps that was part of the appeal. But what about…

Miko shook her head. No. Stop thinking about it. Just go.

She slung the bag over her shoulder. The weight of it seemed heavier than it should be.

Adjusting the strap, she opened the door, stepping into the chill air. The moon lit the path ahead, and for a brief moment, she felt her resolve harden. She had to do this.

Even if it killed her, she had to…

“Mimi?” The small, trembling voice came from behind her, barely audible over the howl of the wind.

Miko froze. Her bag hung heavy over her shoulder.

She turned slowly, already knowing who this voice belonged to.

Sai stood there, shivering in his oversized night robe, his dark hair messy.

“Yes?” Miko whispered, her throat dry and scratchy.

“Are you going to run away again?” Sai’s voice cracked, and he wrapped his arms around himself.

Miko opened her mouth to lie, to reassure him, but the words stuck. Her lips curled up to say “No,” but no sound came out. She looked away.

“Please don’t go,” Sai said, his lips trembling. Tears welled up in his wide eyes, and his voice grew frantic. “You can have my banewolf! He’s only a pup, but you can have him. I don’t want him. I, I…”

His words dissolved into sobs, and he stumbled forward, clutching at her robe.

“Don’t goooah,” he wailed, burying his face into her side. His small hands clung desperately to her.

Miko instinctively dropped her bag and knelt, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame. His sobs were breathless, ragged, and raw, his shoulders jerking with each gasp for air.

“Pwease dond gho,” he begged between hiccuping cries, his voice muffled against her chest.

She wanted to tell him something reassuring, but nothing came to mind.

Her heart twisted painfully. Miko had rehearsed this moment in her mind so many times, imagined slipping away unnoticed, free of the constraints of her father’s plans and expectations.

But none of her rehearsals prepared her for Sai. For the raw ache of seeing her little brother like this, clinging to her as though his world would crumble without her.

“It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right,” she finally managed. She wasn’t sure who she was saying this to.

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It was well after the hour of the Ox but Miko wasn’t sleeping.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t sleep, rather she didn’t want to. She was afraid of the kinds of dreams she was about to see.

Lately, it’s been the same dream for her: she goes through the Laughing Forest again and gets ambushed by ice hounds. Only this time, all of the hounds have her father’s face.

Miko tried to take her mind off of her troubles by reading, but the lines kept blurring together. She’d complete a passage, only to realize that she didn’t remember what it talked about.

When she tried to read it again, the same thing would happen.

All she could think about, all she could picture, was her marriage.

She rubbed her eyes and unrolled a different scroll. There was a faded illustration of some beast. She recognized it.

A wild embermane was staring at her.

EMBERMANE

Threat level: ★★★ (three stars)

“One of the embermanes is still unaccounted for,” was it? She bounced the words of Lord Takami inside her head, just to be sure.

Yes, that’s what he said.

She knew what she was going to think before she did. A crazed smile crept up her face.

I’ll catch it, she thought. The monster that not even you could catch, Takami-o-toki. Your weak little daughter will bring the embermane down for you.

Her father wouldn’t be able to dismiss her, then. He would have no choice but to acknowledge her.

Catching a beast without any magic. Wouldn't that be the stuff of legends?

Miko didn’t know whether her argument made sense or not. Maybe she should’ve gone to bed, after all.

But it was too late now. Once she had an idea, she didn’t belong to herself.

Miko tried to choke down laughter, but there was no stopping. She laughed so loud, she was afraid she’d wake up the entire village. There were tears in her eyes, turning the world into a blur, and still she laughed.

For a moment, she was afraid she was going insane.

Perhaps she was.