The air in the inner palace changed the night Kagetora told her he would not visit her room again. Changed—or rather, peeled away. The cold indifference from before had at least meant "acknowledging her existence." But from the next morning onward, the eyes of the castle women who saw Hikaru walking the corridors held the look of someone observing an insect. "[cold]A woman laughing alongside an enemy ninja, and yet she calls herself a concubine," The voice was not hushed. She was speaking loud enough to be heard. Behind Hikaru by three paces, the women of the corridor continued in whispers. "[cold]We don't even know whose bloodline she comes from. The lord certainly has peculiar tastes," Hikaru did not stop walking. She thought that stopping would mean losing. But the words lodged in the back of her ears, refusing to be dislodged. Tae still brought her meals, unchanged from before. But the contents had changed. Cold barley rice in a single bowl. Thin salt broth. That was all. Not by Kagetora's order—the women had lowered Hikaru's standing of their own accord. Tae herself cared for Hikaru; you could see it in her eyes. But whenever someone passed through the corridor, Tae would drop her gaze to the floor, set down the tray, and leave the room immediately. Hikaru ate the cold barley rice alone. First day. Second day. Third day. As the days passed, the whispered gossip in the corridors shifted in content. At first it had been about an affair with an enemy ninja, but by the third day, the story had become that she was a suspicious woman from the start. A woman fished from the river, her origins unknown. The lord had merely pitied her—it was not favor or affection. By the morning of the fourth day, voices in the corridor were saying that the talk of her coming from the modern era was nonsense, that she was simply a liar. Hikaru sat in the corner of her room, hugging her knees. (I don't understand. What would have to happen for this situation to change?) She held feelings for Kagetora. She still remembered that quiet word from the night he returned drenched in blood spatter. *I won't let anyone lay a hand on you*—she had believed it was real. But Kagetora had not heard her words to the end. He had turned his back. That was everything. Her feelings for Yukikaze remained tangled as well. The warmth of his hand. His voice, quiet as mist. But that man was a ninja of the Kasuminokami clan. Why had someone from the hands of the Inaba family's sworn enemies drawn close to her?—she still had no answer to that question. On the fourth night, Hikaru began to cry without making a sound. She had not intended to cry. When she realized it, her cheeks were wet. She buried her face in her knees, bit her lip hard, and kept her voice from escaping. If anyone heard her crying, they would say something more. That alone she could not bear. So she silenced her voice and wept. 　　　＊ Exhausted from crying, she leaned her back against the wall. The corner of the room felt most settled. She pressed her body into the angle, drew her knees to her chest. The light of the lamp flickered faintly. How long had it been since the castle grew quiet? Then—a shadow fell across the latticed window. There was no sound. A presence came first, and then a human form floated outside the window. Hair the color of pale silver. Eyes different colors on each side. With a quietness like mist becoming human, Yukikaze stood beyond the lattice. Hikaru could not move. Her tear-swollen face was being seen. That alone made the back of her throat burn hot again. Yukikaze slid his body through the lattice. Not a single sound. He descended into the room and looked at Hikaru. His face froze for a moment—seeing her face, he tried to say something, but the words would not come. After a brief silence, Yukikaze spoke quietly. "[sad]...I want you to run away," Hikaru lifted her face. "[gentle]I'll take you outside the castle. Come with me," Yukikaze's voice was calm. But deep in his eyes, there was pain. It was the face of someone who had made a decision, pushed to the very edge. Hikaru's chest wavered. She could not understand why she should remain in this place, rejected by Kagetora. Scorned by the castle women, her meals reduced, avoided even by the maidservants—what would staying here accomplish? The hand Yukikaze extended seemed, for tonight alone, like a real way out. Hikaru reached out her hand. In that instant—from the direction of the castle's outer wall, came the sound of metal. The sound of blade striking blade. Then, a muffled groan. Expression vanished from Yukikaze's face. His eyes narrowed. He stood and cast a sharp gaze outside the window. His body tensed like a different creature entirely. "[cold]...Shinome," A voice wrung out, barely a whisper. 　　　＊ A presence came down the corridor. Not footsteps. A presence sliding in—that kind of movement. Those who moved that way were heading toward the inner palace. The Tsukikage-shu. The ninja corps directly under the Kasuminokami clan. Tonight's infiltration had been an operation timed to coincide with Yukikaze's appearance in the castle. The leader, Shinome, had used Yukikaze as bait. Yukikaze himself had been told nothing. The corridor's sliding door was kicked open. A black-clad hand seized Hikaru's arm. The grip was strong; her body was lifted from the knees before she could stand. "[angry]Let go!" The next instant, Yukikaze cut between them. A blade sang—*zashu*. The hand gripping her arm released. Yukikaze's face was twisted with anger. A face she had never seen before. Hikaru stood in a daze, realizing that when a quiet man became angry, such intensity emerged. "[angry]I won't hand her over to you," Three people in the corridor. All Tsukikage-shu ninja. Humans from Yukikaze's own organization, drawing their blades and coming at him. A sword clash began in the narrow corridor. Each time the blades crossed, sparks flew. Yukikaze's movements were fast—sliding like mist, striking from blind spots. But three against one, and the corridor offered no escape. When he drove back one, another pressed forward. A blade grazed Yukikaze's left arm. The sleeve of his robe tore, and something red seeped through. Yukikaze's expression did not change. He slashed back, driving another against the wall. The voices of castle soldiers began to be heard in the distance—those who had noticed the commotion were heading this way. Hikaru remained sitting on the floor, unable to move. In her mind, facts arranged themselves. Yukikaze had come tonight. Timed to that moment, his comrades had infiltrated. Whether Yukikaze knew or not—his presence here had drawn the enemy in. (Was he always approaching me for this?) No, another part of Hikaru said. Right now this man was drawing his blade against his comrades. Even with blood flowing from his arm, he did not retreat from before Hikaru. That was real. But. (From the beginning? Was he always approaching me for tonight?) The sword clash reached a lull. The three in the corridor retreated, castle soldiers began to join, and the infiltrating ninja were cornered, beginning their withdrawal. Only Yukikaze remained standing in the corridor, his breathing ragged. Hikaru lifted her face and looked at Yukikaze. "[crying]...Was it all a lie?" Her voice trembled. She was crying. She had not meant to cry. But the moment the voice came out, tears fell from her eyes. Yukikaze could say nothing. He opened his mouth. But no voice came. Or rather—he knew that no matter what he said, he could not erase tonight's truth. So he remained silent. That silence seemed to be the answer to her question. 　　　＊ *Doon*—from the direction of the courtyard, came a great sound. It was from the direction of the main palace. Castle soldiers' voices rose, and then the sound of steel continued. Fierce, fast, one-sided. Hikaru learned later that Kagetora had gone out alone. Sensing the castle's disturbance, he had not taken time to gather his retainers—he had drawn his blade by himself. The main force of the Tsukikage-shu lying in wait in the courtyard and galleries—Kagetora had cut into them. The sound was fierce. The clash of metal. Cries. The sound of falling. And silence. Then metal again. It repeated many times, and then—it ceased. When Hikaru emerged into the inner palace corridor, she saw Kagetora turning the corner of the gallery. His left arm had a wet redness. Two places on his back, his robe was torn. With each step, his right leg swayed slightly. He was covered in blood. Not so much that he would fall. But certainly, he had taken deep wounds. Hikaru ran. She did not think. Only after she began running did she realize she was "rushing toward him." She could see blood seeping slowly from the wound on his back. She reached out her hand. Kagetora's hand brushed it away. "[cold]...An enemy's...woman," His voice was hoarse. His consciousness was fading. Yet his words remained clear. "[cold]I don't want to be touched," With only that, Kagetora placed his hand against the wall. Two retainers came rushing over in panic. Kagetora began walking toward the main palace on his own feet. Hikaru stood with her outstretched hand suspended in the air. Her fingertips trembled. (An enemy's woman) Those three characters lodged in the center of her chest, refusing to be dislodged. She had rushed toward him out of concern for Kagetora. That was all. That was all, and yet—she was called "an enemy's woman." In Kagetora's eyes, Hikaru had always been that kind of existence. The person Hikaru wanted to cry for now—was not anger, nor doubt about Yukikaze—but Kagetora. Seeing him covered in blood, about to collapse, she had rushed toward him before fear could take hold. Only now did she realize the feeling behind that action. And in that very moment, she was rejected. 　　　＊ Night deepened. Yukikaze was pursued by castle soldiers and vanished, presence and all. Kagetora was carried by his retainers to the main palace. As the commotion in the inner palace subsided, it rapidly fell silent. No one came to Hikaru's room. Not even Tae. The lamp's oil grew low, and the light flickered. The bustle of the corridor faded, and the castle returned to a silence like held breath. Hikaru sat in the corner of her room, drawing her knees to her chest. She cried. This time she had no strength to silence her voice. Faint sobs fell into the dark room. There was no voice to drown them out, no person to hear them. In this room, there was neither. She wanted to return to her original time. She wanted to go to a convenience store. She wanted to call her friends. To that night on the bridge, riding her bicycle—she even thought that if only she had not avoided that truck. But deep within the tears, one heat remained. In that moment, when Kagetora had walked the corridor bleeding—Hikaru had run before thinking. She had not considered fear, nor whether she might be rejected. She had simply reached out her hand. What that was, Hikaru could not yet put into words. The word "love" seemed too light. But she had no other words. Only—that person was about to collapse, and so she ran. That alone was more certain than everything else tonight. Crying, Hikaru looked up at the ceiling. She wanted someone to teach her how to live tomorrow. But there was no one. Everyone in the castle scorned her, and the two men she had believed in had both rejected her on the same night—and yet Hikaru remained here still. (I don't understand. But running away feels wrong too.) She had almost taken Yukikaze's hand. In that moment, she had certainly wavered. But she had not taken it. Could not take it—or rather, that was true, but not because the situation had changed. Something within Hikaru herself was saying she should stay here. What that something was, she still did not know. Until dawn broke, Hikaru sat in the corner of her room, crying without end. Her vo