Five days had passed since the matter of the medicinal bath. In the inner garden, Sayo stood among the shadows of the afternoon. Water drawn from the well swayed gently within a wooden bucket. The day was clear, the sky stretched high and pale, thin clouds drifting across its expanse like brushstrokes. "Lady Sayo, you truly are industrious," Otake said, her voice carrying a note of admiration as she worked the washboard. Her hands moved with practiced ease, scrubbing the fabric with rhythmic precision. Beside her stood Oyuki and another young maidservant. "No, it is only natural that I assist everyone," Sayo replied quietly, rolling up her sleeves as she reached into the bucket to retrieve a length of cloth. The water was cold. The sensation seeped into her fingertips—so different from the washing she had done countless times in the modern world. There, a simple press of a button had sufficed. Here, each piece of fabric demanded careful, deliberate attention, washed by hand with patience and care. *This is my life now,* she told herself, gripping the cloth tighter. To survive in this castle, she needed to build trust with the maidservants, to earn their confidence, however small. She rolled her sleeves higher. That was when it happened. "Um... Lady Sayo, that is...?" The young maidservant's voice trembled slightly. Sayo's movements stilled. She followed the girl's gaze downward. The maidservant was staring at her left arm. Her left arm. Beyond the rolled sleeve. A burn scar. Small, yet unmistakably present. The skin was drawn tight, faded to a pale white. It was not of this era. It belonged to the modern world—a wound from childhood, a trauma she had carried for so long. Domestic violence. A night when her father had raged in drunkenness. A night when her mother had fled in terror. And when Sayo had tried to shield her— *No.* She cut off the thought. This was not the moment to remember such things. Otake and Oyuki were also staring at her arm now. Three pairs of eyes fixed upon it with an intensity that felt almost painful. "How did you come by such a wound?" Oyuki asked gently, her voice tender with concern. Sayo hesitated, words catching in her throat. What could she say? The truth was impossible. No one in this era could understand the modern world, the violence of her childhood home. To speak of it would be meaningless here, incomprehensible. She drew upon the lie she had prepared. "It was from when the village burned," Sayo said quietly, her voice stripped of emotion. "When I fled from the flames..." She trailed off, letting silence fill the space. The maidservants' expressions shifted. Sympathy bloomed across their faces. Pity. And something deeper—a profound sense of shared understanding. "How painful that must have been," Otake said softly, reaching out to take Sayo's hand. Her touch was warm. "To have survived alone..." the young maidservant whispered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Sayo felt her chest tighten. She was lying to them. Even as they offered genuine sympathy, she was deceiving them. *Forgive me,* she thought silently. "Yes. But I do not wish to remember the past," Sayo said, and this much was true. The loneliness of the modern world. The days when no one loved her. Her family had never understood her, she had no friends, and only the books in the library had been her companions. Oyuki placed a hand upon Sayo's shoulder. "You are a strong person, Lady Sayo," she said. Sayo could not answer. Strong? Her? No. She was not strong. She was merely desperate to survive, clawing at existence in this unfamiliar era, fighting to remain alive. Yet the maidservants' eyes had changed. Their perception of her had shifted, subtly but unmistakably. The initial wariness had faded, replaced by something else. Not quite respect, but a growing warmth. And the faintest seed of trust. When the washing was finished, Sayo rested beneath the cherry tree in the garden. The blossoms had not yet opened. Spring was still distant. Yet small buds clung to the branches, waiting. Soon they would bloom. *Will I see spring in this castle?* she wondered, gazing upward at the sky. Then she felt it—the weight of a gaze upon her. She turned. In the distance, near the second citadel, stood Aotaro. His eyes were fixed upon her, sharp and penetrating as always. Sayo bowed slightly. Aotaro gave the smallest nod before turning his gaze away. *What does that man think?* she wondered. Aotaro remained an enigma to her. His loyalty to Nobuhiro was absolute—that much was clear. But what lay beneath that loyalty? Why did his expression grow so complex whenever he looked at her? Night came. Back in the eastern quarters, Sayo lit the lamp. Thin light spilled across the six-mat room. The maidservants had already retired to their sleeping chambers. The castle was silent. In the distance, the voices of night watchmen echoed—steady, rhythmic footsteps. Takagamine Castle's nights always faded this way, quiet and measured. Sayo gazed at the burn scar on her left arm. A small mark. But it remained, undeniable. Memories from the modern world surfaced unbidden. Her father's roaring voice. Her mother's screams. And the burn she had received while trying to shield her mother. No one had protected her. No one had loved her. That was why she had fled into the library. Into worlds contained in books. Into stories of Warring States generals. Into history—a past that was already finished, already dead. And now that past had become her present. The irony was bitter. Then came a knock at the door. Sayo's heart leaped. "Lady Sayo. Lord Oda summons you," Otake's voice came from beyond the threshold. *Nobuhiro? At this hour?* The night was deep. There was only one reason for him to call upon her at such a time. Her duties as a concubine. Yet Nobuhiro had never summoned her for such a purpose before. Even when she had brought the medicinal bath, he had merely accepted it. *What does he want?* Sayo straightened her kimono and rose to her feet. She moved through the corridors, Otake leading the way. Toward the main citadel. Across the connecting bridge. Through the Shinobi Bridge. Everything was quiet. Only her footsteps echoed. When they reached the study in the main citadel, Otake opened the door. "Forgive my intrusion," Sayo said, kneeling and bowing deeply. "Enter," Nobuhiro's voice commanded—low, quiet. The door closed behind her. Otake waited outside. The study was dimly lit. A single lamp sat upon the desk. Moonlight streamed through the window. Nobuhiro sat before the desk. He looked unchanged from five days ago. The exhaustion had faded somewhat, but the emptiness in his eyes remained. "I heard from the maidservants about the scar on your arm," Nobuhiro said abruptly. Sayo's heart jumped again. "Yes," she answered briefly. She did not know what else to say. Nobuhiro studied her. His gaze was cold, yet something lay beneath it. "Did you also lose something?" he asked. The question made Sayo catch her breath. Lose something. Yes. She had lost everything. Her family. Love. A place to belong. In the modern world, she had possessed nothing. No friends. No family. No future. "Yes," she answered. "But it is something I cannot tell anyone," she continued. The truth could not be spoken. The modern world was incomprehensible to these people. Her childhood trauma, her lonely student years—all of it lay beyond their understanding. Nobuhiro was silent for several seconds. Then he spoke. "So have I." Those words. Sayo looked at him intently. His expression was cold, nearly expressionless. Yet in the depths of his eyes—in that lightless darkness—something existed. A profound, bottomless loneliness. As if he had lost someone and had completely, irrevocably abandoned all hope of ever reclaiming them. That sensation resonated with something deep within Sayo herself. *This man too...* Nobuhiro rose slowly and moved toward her. Sayo's heart thundered in her chest. He took her hand. It was warm. Her left arm. The scar. Nobuhiro traced it with his finger—slowly, gently. "It must have been painful," he said. Sayo felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes. No one had ever spoken to her with such words. No one had ever understood her pain. But this man did. This man carried the same loneliness. He too had lost something. And because of that, he could understand. Sayo fought to hold back her tears, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Yes," she managed, squeezing out only that single word. Nobuhiro released her hand and returned to his seat before the desk. "Return to the inner quarters," he commanded, his voice cold once more. Yet beneath that coldness, Sayo sensed something else. She bowed and left the room. As she walked back along the connecting bridge, her heart churned violently. The warmth of Nobuhiro's hand. His words. The loneliness in his eyes. All of it shook her to her core. Back in the eastern quarters, Sayo sat hugging her knees. The lamplight flickered and swayed. *I am drawn to this man.* For the first time, she acknowledged her own feelings. Nobuhiro—a cold Warring States general, a man who should have no interest in his concubine. Yet he was like her. Lonely. Bearing the weight of loss, living with that pain. And because of that, she was drawn to him. But at the same time, Sayo felt a chill of danger. *This is perilous.* She could not afford to be swayed by emotion. To survive as a concubine, she needed clarity of mind. Her sympathy for Nobuhiro would cloud her judgment. Yet her heart had already begun to move. No matter how she tried to suppress it, she could not. Sayo wept. Alone in her room, unseen by anyone. Tears traced down her cheeks and fell. *I want to understand this man.* That desire alone filled her heart. Meanwhile, in the study of the main citadel, Nobuhiro remembered the scar on Sayo's arm. That wound was proof that she too had lost something. Just as he had. For so long, Nobuhiro had opened his heart to no one. No one had understood his loneliness. But Sayo was different. Perhaps she could understand his solitude. That hope had taken root in his heart. Yet to acknowledge it was dangerous. Emotion led to error in judgment. Trust invited betrayal. That was what Nobuhiro had learned. But. *That woman...* He recalled Sayo's amber eyes. In their depths lay the same loneliness as his own. The same. In the corridor, Aotaro watched his lord's study. He understood everything. His lord was changing. Since Sayo had appeared, he had undeniably changed. Whether this was fortunate or dangerous, Aotaro could not say. But one thing was certain. His loyalty to his lord was absolute. No matter how much Sayo might change his lord, Aotaro would protect him. That was all Aotaro possessed. The moon emerged from behind the clouds. White moonlight illuminated the castle. Three hearts stirred in their separate places. Sayo's attraction. Nobuhiro's awakening hope. Aotaro's complex devotion. All of it began to move, quietly, inexorably forward.