Several days had passed since the night Omoto's silhouette had stopped beyond the shoji screen. Hikaru still remembered that presence. Soundless, wordless—simply standing there, and then vanishing as though nothing had happened. She had lain in her futon staring at the ceiling until dawn, unable to sleep. Tae had known, and the next morning had brewed her tea stronger than usual. That small kindness had eased something in her, just a little. It was frustrating to admit, but her body had grown accustomed to life in the castle. The firmness of the tatami mats no longer startled her. The voices of soldiers drilling in the early hours, the miso scent drifting through the corridors—none of it surprised her anymore. Tae had taught her how to tie her obi, and now she could manage it alone. But there was one thing she still could not grow accustomed to: the days when Kagetora summoned her. 　　　＊ The corridors of the main keep were always polished. Each time Hikaru walked them, the wooden b