The corner of the room was the safest place in the world. Several days had passed since that night. Kagetora's words—"I don't want to be touched by the enemy's woman"—remained lodged in the center of her chest. Every time she tried to pull it free, it seemed to dig deeper, so Hikaru had stopped trying to think about it at all. Tae brought meals every morning. The portion of barley rice had returned to something closer to normal—that alone was the only shape kindness took within the castle walls. But Tae always left the room quickly. Whenever footsteps sounded in the hallway, Hikaru could see Tae's shoulders tense. She couldn't bring herself to blame her for it. Her eyes were swollen. She hadn't looked in a mirror, so she hadn't confirmed it, but every morning when she opened her eyes, her eyelids felt heavy. The amount she ate at meals had decreased. It wasn't that her stomach wasn't hungry—it was hungry, but she had no desire to eat. She counted the water stains on the ceiling. She traced the grain lines of the wooden boards with her finger. The castle women's gossip continued, but now it sounded like a distant noise. In the beginning, every word had pierced her, but now she didn't even have the strength left to be wounded. She simply heard it. *(What am I doing here?)* With no answer to that question, noon came again. The footsteps in the hallway were different from usual. Not Tae's hesitant, hurried patter. These were heavy, quiet, each step pressing firmly against the floor. Measured footsteps. Hikaru stopped the hand that had been resting on her knees. The footsteps halted in front of Hikaru's room. "[scared]...It is Lady Omoto." Tae's small voice came from beyond the hallway. The shoji screen opened quietly. The woman who entered the room had a spine like a single rod—perfectly straight. Hair black as lacquer fell to her waist, gleaming with luster against her kimono. Deep black eyes looked down at Hikaru, who remained downcast, with quiet composure. It was Omoto. Since coming to the castle, Omoto had never once come directly to Hikaru's room. She had never even come close enough for their sleeves to nearly touch in the hallway. And yet now, the legal wife—Omoto—stood in Hikaru's small six-mat room. The sound of Tae setting down the meal tray and leaving the room came immediately after. Silence filled the space. "[cold]Because of you, the lord has been wounded." The voice was low, delivered with a flatness that pressed emotion down. "[cold]Know your place. Though you are called a concubine, you are a woman of unknown origins pulled from a river. Do you understand how deeply the lord has been wounded—" Hikaru could say nothing. It wasn't that she lacked words to answer back. But Omoto's words were fact. Perhaps her connection with Yukikaze had invited that night's intrusion. Kagetora had shed blood because Hikaru was in the castle. She had no words to deny that responsibility. Still downcast, Hikaru gripped her hands together on her knees. Omoto stood in silence for a while. Daylight streamed through the window. The hem of Omoto's kimono swayed, just barely. "...But." The voice changed. "[sad]The lord was so desperate...it was for your sake, wasn't it?" That single sentence trembled. Faintly. So very faintly. But Hikaru heard it. The deepest part of Omoto's voice wavered. Hikaru lifted her face. Omoto was facing the window. She was not looking at Hikaru. Her black eyes gazed at the sky beyond the castle walls. In her profile, Hikaru saw an expression she had never witnessed before. Not haughty. Not cold. Simply—a face quietly holding something. "Six years." Omoto spoke. Her voice was like a soliloquy. "[sad]Six years, I have been here. I could not bear children. I could never create a place for myself in the lord's heart—not once." Hikaru's chest tightened. *(This person too—)* She had come to the Takasago house through a political marriage. She could not bear children. Her only reason for existence was her role as legal wife, and yet that Kagetora had shed blood fighting for an unknown concubine—beneath Omoto's words, six years of such weight lay quietly accumulated, visible to see. This woman was not jealous. She was continuously questioning what it meant for her to exist here. Hikaru slowly unclenched the hands she had been gripping together on her knees. "...Lady Omoto has been alone all this time too, haven't you?" Omoto's shoulders trembled slightly. There was a sign she was about to object. Her mouth moved a little—but the words wouldn't come. Hikaru continued. Not as excuse or apology, but simply with honesty. "[sad]I was scared too. Scared of this era, scared of Lord Kagetora. But what scared me most was—that no one would ever see me." Omoto did not leave the room. She did not sit. But standing still, she listened to Hikaru's words without interruption until the end. A long silence flowed. A bird's cry came from beyond the castle. The sound of wind sweeping through the hallway. Nothing else could be heard. Two people in opposite positions existed at the same height for the first time. Not as legal wife and concubine, but simply—as two women holding solitude within this castle. Omoto turned her gaze toward Hikaru. "[serious]...The physician has refused to treat the lord's wounds." Having said only that, Omoto left the room. Hikaru watched her departing figure, unable to move. The door closed. The footsteps receded. Faded away. Hikaru remained alone in the room. She felt something slowly solidify within her chest. The physician has refused to treat the lord's wounds. Omoto had not extended her hand directly. But—she had opened the door. Hikaru stood up. ＊ When the night had grown deep, Hikaru called for Tae. "[serious]I need you to heat water. And bring me several clean cloths." Tae's face showed confusion. But she nodded without asking questions and left the room. This girl knew not to ask. For tonight, Hikaru was grateful for that. She boiled the cloths thoroughly in the heated water. While they cooled, she washed her hands in water again and again. Modern knowledge of hygiene—keeping wounds clean, preventing infection. It was one of the few certain pieces of knowledge Hikaru possessed in this era. Kagetora's back and arm wounds had been left untended for days. If they became infected, it could be fatal. Hikaru knew this. When she stepped into the hallway, the castle was quiet. The women were already resting. As she moved toward the main residence, a retainer immediately stepped forward. A man in his early forties with a scar on his jaw—a rough-featured warrior. "[serious]There is no business for you in the inner quarters. Return." Hikaru did not stop. "[serious]If the lord's wounds become infected, he will die. I know how to prevent it." The retainer's eyebrow twitched. Hikaru took another step forward. "[serious]Move aside." The retainer looked at her for several seconds. At the concubine's still-swollen eyes. At the cloths and hot water in her hands. At those unwavering eyes. Reluctantly, he stepped aside. She stood before the room where Kagetora rested. There was a presence beyond the shoji. Hikaru pulled it open. In the dimly lit room, a single lamp burned. Kagetora sat with his back against the wall, eyes closed. His 185-centimeter frame was pressed against the wall as if pinned there. His long black hair, bound at the back, was disheveled. From the bandages on his back and left arm, dark red stains seeped through—layers of stains accumulated over days. Kagetora opened his eyes at the sense of her presence. Gray eyes looked at her. "[cold]...Don't come near." His voice was low. Hoarse. He might have a fever. Hikaru did not stop. One step, then another. She came before him and knelt on the floor. "[serious]I'm not your enemy." Kagetora's hand moved. He tried to brush her away—then saw her eyes and stopped. "[serious]I want to protect you." The moment those words left her mouth, Hikaru was surprised at herself. Protect. This man. Even when rejected, even when called the enemy's woman, still—she didn't want his wounds to become infected and kill him. Tonight, for the first time, she had given a name to that feeling. Kagetora did not move. He did not brush her away. Hikaru spread the boiled cloth. Before approaching the wound, she looked into Kagetora's eyes once. Confirming there was no sign of refusal—she began gently unwinding the bandage. The wound on his back was deep. The edges held a faint redness. It was one step away from infection. Hikaru carefully wiped it with the cloth, moving from the edges toward the center. Kagetora's body tensed slightly. It must have hurt. But he made no sound. "[gentle]...Just a little longer." She treated the arm wound the same way. After wiping, she covered it with clean cloth and secured it without making it too tight. Her hands moved with the practiced ease of having done this before. Kagetora remained silent, accepting what was being done to him. The treatment finished. Hikaru moved back slightly and set the used cloths aside. In the quiet room, only their breathing remained. When Hikaru looked up, Kagetora was watching her. His eyes were different from before. Not the eyes that had called her "the enemy's woman" that night. Closer eyes. Quieter eyes. There were no words. But something that had remained taut since that night had begun to dissolve, just slightly. Hikaru stood. "[gentle]Please heal properly. Don't die." With only that, she left the room. The moment she stepped into the hallway, her knees nearly gave way. She placed her hand against the wall and exhaled deeply. Her hand trembled faintly. *(I was scared. But—I didn't back away.)* That fact warmed slowly in her chest. ＊ As she walked the hallway returning to the inner quarters, a figure appeared in the darkness of the veranda. Hikaru stopped. Hair the color of thin silver floated faintly in the moonlight. Left eye blue, right eye pale purple—with the quiet of a person emerging from mist, Yukikaze stood there. His complexion was poor. The cloth wrapped around his left arm seeped from its edge. The wound from that night. It was clear at a glance that he had come after shaking off pursuers. His breathing was more ragged than usual. "[serious]...I need you to hear something." His voice was urgent. Beneath his usual quietness, tonight there was the tension of "I must say this quickly." "[serious]Tsukiyori, the head of Kasuminokami, is moving a large army. He intends to cross Mikazuki Pass. Before he attacks Inaba territory—I had to tell you." Mikazuki Pass—the only major highway pass connecting Inaba territory and Kasuminokami territory. If a large army crossed there, there was nowhere to stop them before reaching Tategawa. Kagetora was still wounded. He was not in a state to lead his retainers into battle. Hikaru looked at Yukikaze's face. He had betrayed his comrades, deserted, come here wounded. Why he would go so far—it was clear from looking into his eyes. Hikaru's chest ached. Yukikaze's feelings were genuine. But tonight, Hikaru had not backed away before Kagetora's door. Her hands, which had wiped his wounds, had already given their answer. Where she was heading had become clear for the first time tonight—unmistakably. "[gentle]...Thank you. For telling me." She said it with unwavering eyes. Yukikaze looked at her for a moment. Reading her expression. The color of his eyes slowly changed—quietly taking in what she was saying. He nodded slightly. Without another word, he turned toward the darkness of the night. Like mist, without sound. Hikaru watched his figure dissolve into shadow, then turned on her heel. She had to tell him. The man who lay wounded yet would still attempt to face a great army—she had to tell him.