The moment her eyes opened, she smelled earth. Cold and damp and unfamiliar. Minase Hina rose slowly to her feet. Her jet-black short bob clung to her cheeks. Deep brown eyes reflected the sky, hazy and unfocused. ——It was blue. Just that alone, yet something felt wrong. The blue of the sky was too deep. No thin film of exhaust. No contrails. Nothing. A blue so transparent she'd never seen its like. (A dream, maybe.) That's what Hina still believed. She must have dozed off on the bus. Something that happened all the time during the school trip commute. Her classmates were probably laughing on the bus right now, and her friend Haruno was probably taking a photo on her phone saying "Hina's sleeping again~" and——. Her phone. Hina patted the pockets of her uniform. White blazer, black slacks. Her fingertips found the screen. She pulled it out and pressed the power button. Nothing happened. Again. Again. Again. The screen remained dark, showing nothing. Only then did Hina look down at her feet. Grass. Tall grass spreading all around her. The trampled soil had stained the knees of her uniform pants brown. In the distance, the outline of an unfamiliar mountain. Beyond that, black smoke rose thin and straight. The shape of the smoke was strange. Not a factory chimney. Thicker, blacker smoke—like a bonfire. A horse whinnied somewhere. Something tightened deep in her chest. (Where is this place?) --- Two hours earlier came back to her. The afternoon of the second day of the school trip. All fifty of her classmates had come to the Inukai Castle History Museum. It was a facility famous for its Sengoku period exhibits, and the teacher had said, "This is a precious opportunity to see the swords and armor you've read about in textbooks." Most of the students had crowded around the armor displays, taking photos in front of the suits of armor. Haruno had frowned at one and said "Wait, this is real?" while talking with friends in front of ancient documents. Only Hina had frozen in front of a glass case. It was a sword. A single blade lying on a black stand. The explanation placard said something like "believed to be crafted by a swordsmith of the Tenran period," but Hina hadn't read the text. She'd simply stared at the sword's form——its curve——without moving. *It's beautiful,* Hina had thought. Something so beautiful had existed for hundreds of years, and that was somehow strange. The person who made it was long gone, but the sword remained, catching the light inside its glass case. "[laughing]Hina's spacing out again~" A hand touched her shoulder. She'd started to turn around. In that instant, her vision went black. --- She knew it wasn't a dream when the grass blade pierced her hand. Sharp and small and unmistakably painful. Not dream pain. Hina stood up. Her slender, delicate frame rose above the sea of grass. She looked around. Mountains. The sound of a river. Trees. Distant smoke. No roads anywhere. No power lines. No convenience stores. She pressed her phone again. Still nothing. (What's happening. What's happening what's happening what's happening.) She repeated it in her mind, spinning. Hina's eyes, which showed emotion easily, began to glisten. But there was no time for crying. Crying wouldn't change anything. She had to move first. She ran toward the sound of the river. Grass tangled around her feet. The soft soil made running difficult. But she ran. If this wasn't a dream, there had to be people. If there were people, she'd understand something. The moment she reached the animal trail along the riverbank, she stopped. There were people ahead. Several of them. Some on horseback. They were wearing armor. Real, metal armor. (I'm saved.) The instant Hina moved toward them, the lead soldier's eyes narrowed. "[serious]Stop." The words were archaic. But she understood the meaning. Hina halted. The soldiers dismounted. Five of them. All carried swords at their waists. One kept his bow drawn, watching Hina. "[serious]Who are you?" The language was archaic. She understood only half of it. "[scared]Um, I'm... lost, and um——" The soldiers exchanged glances. They were looking at her clothes. White blazer, black slacks——a style of dress they'd never seen. One soldier pointed at the black screen of the phone Hina was gripping. "[serious]What is that object?" "[scared]It's a smartphone, or like, a cell phone——" It wasn't getting through. She could tell from their faces. Hina took a step back. In that instant, the soldiers moved. Two came around from the sides. Hina reflexively tried to run——but her feet tangled. As she stumbled over the grass, both her arms were seized. "[scared]Let go! Help! I didn't do anything!" She screamed in Japanese. There was no way they'd understand. But screaming was all she could do. Rope wound around her wrists. The rough texture of hemp. Tied tight. Hina bit her lip hard right there. Don't cry. It felt like if she cried, it would all be over. --- Dragged along by the horse, Hina looked around. There were rice paddies. People working in the fields. Wearing hemp clothes, bent at the waist, planting something. Wooden carts on the road. Wooden houses lined up. No power lines, no asphalt, no signs. Nothing. She suddenly noticed that not a single soldier carried a gun. Only swords and bows. (This is the real Sengoku period.) That realization seeped slowly into Hina. The sword she'd seen in the exhibition hall and the swords at these soldiers' waists were the same. "Believed to be crafted by a swordsmith of the Tenran period," the placard had said. Tenran. That word had definitely been in the explanation text of that exhibition room. It had seemed like a description of a fictional era, but now that she was here——. Her head spun. --- A castle appeared on a hill. Hina involuntarily stopped. The soldier behind her pushed, but her feet wouldn't move. It was huge. The stone walls were high. Eight meters at least. Gray stones stacked upon each other, wooden structures layered on top. The three-tiered construction was clear even from a distance. The figures moving along the castle walls looked tiny as ants. (Nearly six hundred people live here...?) That scale of population was rare even in the modern world. They passed through the castle gate. Armored samurai stood in rows. Everyone was watching Hina. "[surprised]A spy? A foreign woman?" "[serious]Her clothes are strange. What country is she from?" Voices overlapped. Hina looked down. Her eyes grew wet. Hating it, she bit down hard on her back teeth. An older samurai stepped forward. White-haired, sharp-eyed. He gave Hina a cold glance. "[cold]Keep her in custody until her identity is determined." With those words, the atmosphere changed. The soldiers moved. Hina was led deeper inside. They walked down a corridor. The wooden floor creaked. Rooms with sliding doors lined both sides. Somewhere, she heard women's voices. Small, but clear to Hina's ears. "[whispers]Custody? Again......" "[whispers]Three months and she'll be disposed of at best." Hina's feet stopped for a moment. Disposed of. She tried not to think about what that word meant. The room she was brought to was four and a half tatami mats. --- It was dimly lit. The tatami was thin. Soot marks stained the walls. A small latticed window let in a thin line of orange twilight. That was all the room contained. The soldier locked the door from outside. The click echoed down the corridor, then faded. Hina was alone. For a while, she just stood in the middle of the room. She took out her phone and pressed the power button. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again, again, again——. Her hands were shaking. Hina collapsed where she stood. She hugged her knees and sat down on the tatami. She cried. Silently, but completely. Her mother. Her father. Haruno. Breakfast. Useless things flooded back, and she cried again. She didn't know if she could go home. She didn't even know how. She didn't know where this was. She didn't know what would happen tomorrow. Disposed of. The voice from earlier returned to her ears. Three months and she'll be disposed of at best——she hadn't heard what that "disposed of" meant, but she understood it wasn't anything good. Hina pressed her face to her knees. Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. She didn't know how long she cried. When she noticed, the crying had stopped. Whether her tears had run dry or exhaustion had taken over. It had simply stopped. Hina slowly raised her face. Through the latticed window, the night sky was visible. Stars. So many stars she'd never seen before. A number of stars that would be impossible to see in the modern world with its excess of light, spread thick across the pitch-black sky. *Beautiful,* Hina thought. Even in this situation, she thought it. (Crying won't bring anyone.) She repeated the obvious to herself. Haruno wasn't here. Her mother wasn't here. No one was here. Continuing to cry wouldn't change anything. Even if she didn't know how to get home, tonight would end without knowing. That couldn't be changed. But when morning came, something might change. To change it, she had to survive first. Hina slowly opened her hand, then closed it again. Made a fist. It was trembling. But she could make it. (I can't say I'm okay. But I don't want to die.) That much she knew. She was terrified. She didn't know where this was. The language, the clothes——everything was different. She didn't know what would happen to her. But——. Hina set her lips in a firm line. *Live until dawn. Think only of that.* The stars in the latticed window glowed quietly. The sound of river water drifted from far away. Mixed with the wind, insects sang somewhere. The sounds of night in this world. When morning came, she'd be brought before that cold-eyed samurai. Yes, she'd understood that much from the soldiers' conversation. She'd be questioned about something while her words went ununderstood. But for now, it was still night. Hina leaned her back against the wall. She closed her eyes. Starlight filtered faintly through the lattice gaps.