The castle bustled with activity all through the morning. Lord Aritaka hosted a hearty breakfast in his chambers, receiving the well wishes of those who would be staying behind. While the servants finished loading the carts and horses, he led his entourage to the city’s largest temple to receive a blessing from the mountain gods, headed by Master Iomori. And when every preparation was complete they gathered in yards just within the gate, forming their ranks. Kazuchiyo took his place next to Mahiro as they mounted their horses.

Mahiro winked at him, and he smiled back. They both sobered themselves when looking to the line of their father’s generals and advisors come to see them off; O-ran and Hidemune were among them, watching with sour expressions. Kazuchiyo made only enough eye contact to prevent any claim that he was avoiding them.

Then Lord Aritaka started his horse, and the procession was underway. They rode out of the castle gates at an easy pace and into the town, where the citizens had gathered to bid their farewells. Young faces beamed up at the decorated horses and riders, much like Kazuchiyo had done as a child watching his father and brothers march from the keep. He had hoped to feel a swell of pride and accomplishment as he joined his first cavalcade, but instead he was uneasy beneath all the attention. He hoped to be free of the town as quickly as possible.

Mahiro, on the other hand, relished having an audience. She had dressed in her breastplate and helmet for the occasion, with its mane of bright white hair, catching every eye and earning her cheers from the crowd. Even her father could not discourage her as she flexed and posed for the approval of her supporters. It made for a rousing exit, and by all accounts, a memorable one.

At last they passed through the city gates, taking to the dusty path that twisted down among the foothills. The chatter quieted and there was only the monotonous clomp of the horses and occasional squeal from a wagon wheel. Kazuchiyo was grateful for the calm; he had grown familiar with the road after his weeks of training, and with Mahiro catching her breath he had time to reflect.

The countryside was undeniably beautiful: sloping hills and towering pines, flowering trees just starting to bud. Their caravan followed the sunlight-dappled trail west into the forest, eventually journeying further than Kazuchiyo had ever been. He found himself reminiscing about stories the old generals had told him in his youth, of days long past when the Tatsutomi army was at its strongest, its vanguard advancing deep into Sakka territory. Five years he had lived within its borders and his knowledge of the terrain was poorer than their memory of thirty years past. He kept a keen eye on all his surroundings as they went, committing as much to memory as he could.

Someday, he would rule this stretch of land. All he need be was patient.

In the early evening they arrived at the private homestead of General Waseba Houshin, the second of three brothers who had at one time served under Tatsutomi’s dragon banner. Unlike his elder brother, he was not often seen at Gyoe, preferring a life of prayer and farming in solitude. Kazuchiyo had not laid eyes on him since the battle at Shimegahara and was startled by the change he observed in his make and manner: though Houshin had always been uncommonly tall, he was a great deal thinner than Kazuchiyo remembered, and he greeted Lord Aritaka and his procession with humble servitude. His head was shaved in the manner of his newly adopted religious piety, and even his current name, Houshin, was a choice to reflect his desire for enlightenment.

Lord Aritaka greeted him amiably enough. The elder Waseba less so. Nevertheless Houshin welcomed lord, family, and generals into his home, while the foot soldiers and porters made camp surrounding the modest property.

“How is Hashikiri holding up?” Mahiro asked as she and Kazuchiyo were guided toward the guest house. “He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

“No trouble at all,” Kazuchiyo replied gladly. “Though there were a few times he seemed a little restless. I think he was itching to run.”

Mahiro laughed. “Of course he was! He’ll have the chance, you can tell him that from me.” Her grin turn mischievous. “How’s your ass holding up?” she teased, and she gave him a smack.

Kazuchiyo jumped with a very inelegant yelp, and Mahiro guffawed, earning her glares from the surrounding generals. But her humor would not be dampened by something as inconsequential as disapproval. “There’s a natural hot springs up the hill from the guest house,” she said. “We’ll take a trip this evening, eh? That’ll get you right.”

Kazuchiyo gave his backside a discreet rub and continued on with her. “All right.”

After having the opportunity to relax a while in the guest house, Houshin accepted them in the main house for a modest supper. There were no meats, only rice and pickled vegetables. Kazuchiyo did not mind, but the elder Waseba had plenty to remark on.

“You must have grown these yourself,” he said as they ate, and on a kinder tongue it might have sounded like a compliment. “There are plenty of them.”

“We were gifted with a fine harvest,” replied Houshin with patience befitting his lifestyle.

“Were your forests not gifted with game?”

Houshin kept his eyes downcast as he ate, the rest of the assembly watching with varied sympathy and scorn. “We were gifted with healthy livestock,” he said. “Once they have lived out their time, I will have meat to serve.”

Waseba harrumphed indignantly. “I hope you at least allow the men that serve you a proper diet. They will need muscle weight on them if they’re to go to war.”

“You didn’t get that tall eating just radishes,” Mahiro agreed with a taunting smirk.

Lord Aritaka cleared his throat. “Every soldier in my army will be well fed,” he said, signalling the end of that subject.

After supper, Mahiro led Kazuchiyo up the wooded path behind the guest house, there finding another smaller building for bathers to unrobe and wash. After scrubbing themselves of road dust and the smell of their horses, they sank into the naturally heated waters of the mountain spring. Though the bath was wide there was only one, and Mahiro thought nothing of them sharing it. “It’s not as if I have any modesty or even decent tits,” she reasoned as she stretched her arms across the rocks and settled in. “But I promise not to piss in it.”

“I would hope so,” Kazuchiyo replied, and her laugh echoed among the pines.

“You know,” Mahiro said after they had had some time to soak, “I think when we reach Ninari, I’m most looking forward to meeting Yagi-douji.”

As startled as Kazuchiyo was to hear the name from her, he managed to keep his expression fairly neutral. “You mean, General Ebara’s son?”

“I’ve never been far enough west to run into him.” There was a tone of wistful curiosity in her voice that Kazuchiyo disapproved of. “But they say he has the strength of twenty men, and his spear is the size of a pine trunk. What do you think?”

“I think he’s the strongest man I’ve ever met,” Kazuchiyo said honestly. “But I don’t think you’ll care for his demeanor.”

“Well, all the better, then.” Mahiro’s grin was devilish as she stared into to the darkening sky. “I’m only interested in testing my blade against his anyway.”

Kazuchiyo was tempted to say she didn’t stand much of a chance against him, but that would only increase her interest, and he didn’t want to dwell on the subject of Yagi any longer--not when his heart was so full of anticipation it was ready to burst. As he struggled to think of some way to distract her that would not rouse her teasing nature, they were interrupted by footsteps approaching from the bathhouse, and a moment later Waseba Houshin himself joined them at the pool’s edge.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion,” he said.

“It’s your bath,” Mahiro replied with a shrug.

Houshin discarded his robe and slid into the water with them. He looked heavy with thought that Kazuchiyo could feel on his own shoulders. How was he meant to feel about this man he had last seen when he was a boy, and Houshin was a towering pillar of his father’s army? Now, a somber-eyed pacifist seeking Kazuchiyo’s eye.

“This might be my last chance,” Houshin said. “So I had hoped that I could speak with you.”

Kazuchiyo stared back at him, anxious and trying to hide it. Houshin looked pained and he did not know if it would give him any comfort to hear whatever he had to say. “Mahiro,” he said, “would you mind going on ahead of us?”

“He has something to say I can’t hear?” Mahiro retorted, but when Kazuchiyo looked to her, she sighed. “I’m going to find us a drink. But I will be back.” She regarded Houshin with suspicion as she climbed out of the bath; he averted his eyes. “And soon.”

“Thank you,” said Kazuchiyo, and once she had disappeared into the bathhouse, he returned his full attention to Houshin expectantly.

Despite having requested Kazuchiyo’s ear, it took Houshin some time to collect himself and make use of it. “I want to apologize to you,” he said at last, with a tremble of emotion in his voice that Kazuchiyo did not expect. “For the shameful betrayal of my family against yours, five years ago at Shimegahara. If not for the inconvenience it would cause you, I would cut my belly open to make amends. But the best I can do now is do you no harm, and pray for their souls.”

Kazuchiyo stared back at him, stunned and unable to respond. In his years of captivity he had not once been offered condolences for his lost kin, let alone an apology, and his heart could not trust it. But Houshin’s downcast eyes were so earnest in their grief that he could not think him a liar, either.

“Is this some kind of test?” he asked, fearful that the elder Waseba, or one of his servants, was waiting for him to express too much resentment.

“No,” Houshin assured. “Though I understand how you would think so.” He smiled in a frail, self-pitying way. “You must despise me. I betrayed my lord to a gruesome end, and now here I sit, claiming to be a man of piety. But I saw enough death on that field to last me a lifetime, and I am sorry for my part in it. I hope never to lift a sword again.”

Kazuchiyo shuddered, fingering the bead still tied to his wrist; he had been afraid to loosen the ribbon even before Mahiro, and feeling its slight indent against his pulse gave fuel to his righteous anger. “If you were sorry,” he said, his voice rough with the effort of restraint, “you would have cut your belly open on the field, like my father did.”

“I know. And I will now, if you ask it of me.” Kazuchiyo’s heart began to pound fiercely, but before he could fully consider the words, Houshin continued. “But I would hate to do anything that could jeopardize your standing with Lord Aritaka. Though it pains me to admit, I know my elder brother would not overlook any opportunity to discredit you.”

“Why did the Waseba clan betray us?” Kazuchiyo pressed. He couldn’t begin to ponder what kind of penance he truly desired from this man, but information he was in desperate need of. “If it was your brother’s decision, what did Aritaka offer in order to coerce him?”

Houshin cringed, and he glanced about in sudden paranoia. If there were spies and he was only acting, he did an enviable job of it. “He offered what your father wasn’t willing to,” he said in a softer voice. “A greater war than the settling of a grudge between two provinces.” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice even further. “Lord Aritaka promised us that he has plans to march to the west.”

To the west, of course, lay Kibaku province. Its eastern border was mountainous and heavily forested, making it a natural barrier that both Sakka and Suyama provinces shared. But past that, Kazuchiyo’s tutors had claimed, was a great plain that produced enough rice to feed 100,000 men a year. If that prize were not tempting enough, beyond Kibaku lay the inner territories, the riverlands...and the capital.

Kazuchiyo swallowed, and as inadvisable as it was, he found himself speaking the implication aloud. “Aritaka has designs on becoming the shogun.”

Houshin leaned away. “You mustn’t,” he said, and Kazuchiyo quickly nodded in understanding. “I should not have said anything. But now you know. You ought to understand the motivations of those that would wish you harm.”

Kazuchiyo sank deeper into the pool, his thoughts in a whirl. He would have liked more time, but he could hear Mahiro pacing about in the bathhouse and knew they wouldn’t have privacy for much longer. “You’re right,” he said, too many emotions turning like a water wheel within his chest. “I do despise you. But it won’t serve me if you take your own life five years too late.” He fixed Houshin with stern eyes. “If you would make amends, do it by taking up your sword when your master calls on you.”