The wind stirred the trees in the garden, a gentle, persistent motion that seemed to carry the season itself. New green season. The cherry blossoms had already fallen. Leaves of vivid jade swayed in the soft sunlight, catching the light as they moved, releasing it again in a rhythm that felt almost like breathing. Sayo walked the inner corridor, her footsteps quiet against the wooden floor. In her hands, a basket. Inside it, medicinal herbs—a gift from Koto of the Kusanagi-dō. She held it carefully, as though the contents were precious beyond measure. *A cold has been spreading lately.* She gazed down at the basket, her fingers brushing the dried leaves within. She had decided to brew a decoction for the attendants. Otake's complexion had grown pale. Oyuki had been coughing, small, delicate sounds that echoed through the corridors at night. Since the incident with that herbal bath, the attendants' attitudes toward her had shifted. They had begun to rely on her. To confide in her. And that—that brought her joy. In the modern world, no one had relied on Sayo. She had no friends. Her family did not understand her. She had been alone, profoundly, inescapably alone. But here, it was different. Here, Sayo was useful to someone. That realization filled her heart slowly, like water seeping into parched earth, warming her from within. She turned a corner in the corridor. That was when— "Sayo." Her feet stopped. Her heart leaped, a single violent beat that seemed to shake her entire body. She turned. Nobuhiro stood there. Oda Nobuhiro. Twenty-eight years old. Sharp, penetrating eyes. Black hair bound at the nape of his neck. Her lord. He was looking at her. "Oda-sama," Sayo said, lowering her head. She folded her knees, the basket still cradled in her arms. *He called my name.* Warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading slowly outward like ripples in still water. This was the first time Nobuhiro had called her by her name. Always before, it had been "you" or "concubine." She had thought that was natural. A lord had no need to call his concubine by name. That was how things were. But now, he had called her Sayo. And somehow, that single word had lodged itself in her heart. "What is in that basket?" His voice remained low, cold as always. Yet there was something different about it now—a faint thread of something almost human woven through the ice. "Medicinal herbs, my lord. I intend to brew a decoction for the attendants," Sayo replied. Her voice was quiet, but steady. Nobuhiro glanced into the basket. His gaze was sharp, assessing. But when he looked at her, Sayo thought she felt it soften, just slightly, like winter sun breaking through clouds. "The attendants hold you in high regard," he said. Sayo was startled by the observation. Did Nobuhiro truly notice such small details within the castle? "No, my lord. They are simply kind to me," she said, denying it. Yet in her heart, she was pleased. Pleased that he had been watching her. Nobuhiro fell silent. The silence stretched, became long, became almost unbearable. Then he spoke. "Continue as you are." Those words alone, and then he turned and walked away. His back receded. Black robes. A spine perfectly straight. Sayo watched him go, her eyes following the line of his shoulders until he disappeared around a corner. *He asked me to continue.* Her heart trembled quietly, like a leaf in wind. Nobuhiro—a man of ice. A ruthless warlord of the Warring States. A man who opened his heart to no one. Yet he had spoken to her. Called her by name. However small such a thing might seem to others, to Sayo it held profound meaning. --- On her way back to the inner quarters, Sayo passed through the castle garden. The cherry blossoms had fallen. But in their place, the new green leaves painted the garden in shades of jade and emerald. The breeze was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of growing things. Someone stood in the corner of the garden. Sayo stopped. It was a man she did not know. Late twenties, perhaps. A handsome face. A gentle smile. A dark indigo robe bearing the Oda family crest. He noticed her. "Ah, there you are. So you're Sayo-dono," he said. His voice was soft, warm, unthreatening. Sayo tensed. A stranger. Someone she had never seen in the castle before. "Yes. I am Sayo. Forgive me, but who are you?" She bowed, polite but distant. The man laughed. "Ah, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Soichiro. Nobuhiro's cousin," he said. Soichiro. Sayo committed the name to memory. Nobuhiro's cousin. A member of the Oda clan. "I've only just returned from Kyoto. I've been away so long that I'm amazed at how much has changed in the castle," Soichiro said, gazing around the garden. His eyes were gentle, but there was something calculating in them, something that made Sayo's instincts sharpen. *This man wears a kind face, but...* There was something beneath it. The air of a strategist. Calculation. Ambition. "I hear you're knowledgeable about medicinal herbs. That's wonderful. The people of the castle must be grateful for your help," Soichiro said, his tone warm and familiar. But that very familiarity made Sayo wary. A man who spoke so openly to a stranger on first meeting was not ordinary. "I merely do what I can," Sayo replied, keeping her answer modest, keeping herself small. Soichiro studied her face intently. His gaze felt like an assessment, as though he were measuring her worth. "You're humble. But Nobuhiro wouldn't have taken you as his concubine without reason. He's not a man who does things without purpose," Soichiro said. In those words, Sayo sensed something. *What does this man think of Nobuhiro?* In Soichiro's expression, affection and something else mingled—respect, perhaps, or jealousy. She could not tell. "If you need anything while you're in the castle, don't hesitate to tell me. I want to support Nobuhiro as well," Soichiro said, bowing slightly before he departed. Watching his retreating figure, Sayo wondered: *Is this man an ally?* She did not know. Not yet. But caution was necessary. --- That night, back in her quarters, Sayo sat with her knees drawn up, the lamplight casting her shadow against the wall. Nobuhiro's words. Soichiro's smile. Everything stirred her heart. Then came a soft knock at the door. "Forgive the intrusion," a composed, authoritative voice said. Sayo rose. When she opened the door, Zuitsuin stood there. Nobuhiro's mother. Forty-eight years old. Her black hair, glossy and carefully arranged, held threads of silver. Her eyes were sharp, dark, penetrating. She looked down at Sayo. "Sayo. Tomorrow, I will teach you the way of tea. Come to my chambers," she said. There was no room for refusal in her tone. "Yes. I understand," Sayo replied, bowing. Zuitsuin studied her. Her gaze was cold. "As a concubine, you must master at least the basic proprieties. You must not bring shame upon Nobuhiro's name," she said. It was a warning, thinly veiled. Sayo said nothing. She only bowed. Zuitsuin turned and left without another word. Alone in the lamplight, Sayo stood motionless. *Zuitsuin-sama...* Her gaze. Its coldness. Sayo felt a chill trace her spine. Zuitsuin did not accept her. Not as a concubine, not as a person. That much was clear. --- The next day, Sayo made her way to Zuitsuin's chambers. The Shimotuki Room. Twelve tatami mats. Luxurious furnishings. A gold folding screen stood in one corner. Zuitsuin sat before the tea implements. "Sit," she commanded. Sayo took the place indicated. Zuitsuin began to prepare tea. Her movements were graceful, economical, perfect. "Do you know the way of tea?" Zuitsuin asked. "No. I do not," Sayo answered honestly. Zuitsuin's brow furrowed slightly. "As I thought. For one of village birth, you lack even basic refinement," she said. The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. Sayo said nothing. She only bowed. Zuitsuin placed the tea before her. "Drink," she commanded. Sayo took the cup. It was warm. She drank. Bitter. But beneath the bitterness lay a deep, complex flavor. "As a concubine, you must be a shadow to Nobuhiro. You must never surpass your lord," Zuitsuin said, her voice quiet but carrying absolute authority. "Yes," Sayo replied. "I know what you are thinking. But do not forget—you are merely a concubine. You will never move Nobuhiro's heart," Zuitsuin said. Sayo's heart beat hard at those words. Zuitsuin seemed to see through her completely. "My son opens his heart to no one. You are no exception," Zuitsuin continued. In her voice, Sayo heard something else—a mother's love, and something darker: possession. Sayo met Zuitsuin's gaze. In those eyes lay a deep, familiar loneliness. The same loneliness that lived in Nobuhiro. This mother and son—they carried the same wound. "I understand," Sayo said. Zuitsuin studied her for a long moment. The silence stretched between them. At last, Zuitsuin spoke. "You may go," she said. Sayo bowed and left the room. As she walked the corridor, understanding bloomed in her mind. *Zuitsuin-sama does not wish to share Nobuhiro with anyone.* That was the truth beneath her coldness. A mother's deep love, and her desperate need to keep her son entirely her own. --- Walking through the garden, Sayo encountered Aotaro. Nobuhiro's vice-commander. Thirty years old. Jet-black hair bound at the nape. Eyes of sharp amber. He looked at her. "Sayo," he said. His tone was cold. "Yes?" Sayo stopped. Aotaro approached her. "Obey the rules of the inner quarters," he said, his voice low and stern. "Do not enter the main keep without permission. Private conversation with male retainers is forbidden. Any outing requires two attendants to accompany you," he continued, reciting the castle's regulations. But beneath his words lay something else. A warning. And perhaps—concern? Sayo met his gaze. In his eyes, she saw complex emotion. "Yes. I understand," she replied. Aotaro looked at her. His expression was complicated. "The lord has changed," he said quietly. Sayo's heart quickened. "Since you arrived, he has changed. Certainly," Aotaro continued. In his words lay emotion he seemed reluctant to acknowledge. Jealousy and respect. Wariness and understanding. Sayo received those feelings without flinching. "I wish only to be of service to Oda-sama," she said. At her answer, Aotaro said nothing. "...I see," he said at last, and turned to leave. Alone in the garden, Sayo stood in thought. *Aotaro also carries complicated feelings.* Loyalty to his lord. And toward her—what? She could not yet understand. --- That night, in her quarters, Sayo sat with her knees drawn up, the lamplight casting long shadows. *What am I seeking in this castle?* Her feelings for Nobuhiro. Her strategy for survival. All of it mingled together, inseparable. A soft knock came at the door. "Sayo-dono. May I speak with you for a moment?" It was Soichiro's voice. Sayo opened the door cautiously. Soichiro stood there, his smile gentle and disarming. "Forgive the late hour. But there's something I felt I must tell you," he said. Sayo tensed. "What is it?" Soichiro glanced around before lowering his voice. "Do you know why Nobuhiro's betrothal was broken?" he asked. Sayo's heart leaped. "No... I don't know." Soichiro smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps you will learn in time. There are many schemes at work in this castle. You should be careful," he said. His words were advice, yet something else lay hidden within them. "Thank you," Sayo said. Soichiro bowed lightly and departed. Alone in her room, Sayo stood motionless. *The truth behind the broken betrothal...* What had happened? And why had Soichiro chosen to tell her? Everything was mystery. She turned to the window. The moon had emerged from the clouds. White moonlight illuminated the castle. *What is unfolding in this castle?* Anxiety and anticipation mingled in her chest.