Lord Aritaka received his children and generals in the hall of the keep, and there they were seated for a hearty supper. Kazuchiyo’s place was not nearly as close to Yagi as he would have liked, with Utsukawa and his sons between them. He had to content himself with glimpses of the man’s profile whenever he leaned forward to take up his wine cup. Which, granted, was often.

“This is a real meal,” Waseba declared as they were served strips of pork. “Fine game from the deep woods. Men become tigers on meat, not on radishes.”

Utsukawa bowed happily, thinking his words compliments rather than a condemnation toward an absent brother. “My eldest son fired the arrow that felled this boar,” he bragged as humbly as possible. “We owe a great deal of our storehouse to his efforts.”

“On your next hunt, you ought to take Kazumune with you,” said Aritaka. “He is very keen with a bow.”

“My sons would be honored,” said Utsukawa, and Kazuchiyo bowed his head to express the same. He already found Utsukawa rather exhausting.

“I’m coming, too,” Mahiro spoke up. “I’m anxious to see how the hunting here compares to the eastern border I’m used to.” She cast a sly eye further down the group. “I do hope your beast of a boy will be joining us, General Ebara.”

The other Ninari generals shifted uncomfortably; Yagi continued to eat as if he had not heard. “Motonobu is not well-suited to hunting,” Ebara answered for him, and Kazuchiyo wondered just how many times he had used that phrase to describe his ill-mannered foster son. “He hasn’t the patience for it.”

“You cannot use a beast to hunt a beast,” agreed Utsukawa’s eldest. “With respect.”

“That’s not what I heard,” said Mahiro. “They say he caught and murdered a Kibaku spy single-handedly—bare-handedly. Isn’t that a kind of hunting?”

Ebara’s lip quirked, and suddenly Kazuchiyo could fully perceive the pride he had been trying not to express all along. “That kind of hunting does not require patience.”

“What does it require?” asked Kazuchiyo, and seeing Yagi flinch at the sound of his voice made his skin crackle. “Kibaku spies are famously skilled. I would like to know how your son was able to capture one.”

“That’s not—” Utsukuawa started to say, but Lord Aritaka silenced him by clearing his throat.

“I would like to know as well,” he said. “How does one catch a crow?”

Ebara leaned back, and all eyes then diverted to Yagi. It took an almost uncomfortable amount of silence for him to acknowledge their attention. At last he placed his cup down. “I smelled him,” he said plainly.

“Smelled him,” Lord Aritaka repeated. “How so?”

“The man cut himself on an unfinished beam when scaling the wall,” Yagi explained. “I happened to pass by and smell the blood. I followed it and discovered him.”

The assembly listened with grave curiosity—except for Mahiro, who laughed and slapped her knee. “He happened to smell a drop of blood in passing!” she exclaimed. She elbowed Kazuchiyo. “That’s a proper oni for you, eh?”

“It’s very impressive,” said Kazuchiyo, watching as Yagi resumed eating.

“He doesn’t deserve your praise,” said Ebara, though there was praise in his tone. “We are all honored to serve.”

“I look forward to his further service,” said Aritaka, and the conversation continued on about the arrogant foolishness of Kibaku province, and the Koedzuka samurai that governed it. Kazuchiyo absorbed as best he could whilst casting covert glances Yagi’s way. Yagi did not look up even once, which did not deter him.

At the meal’s end, more empty flattery was shared, and everyone dispersed. Despite the possibility of appearing rude, Kazuchiyo deliberately dodged any eye contact from his father and hurried to Yagi before he could stalk off. “Motonobu,” he said, and the way Yagi wrinkled his nose at the name threatened to make him smile. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see the area of the wall that the spy passed through.”

“I don’t mind,” said Yagi, and the two of them shared an unspoken understanding as they avoided Mahiro’s attention to sneak away as quickly as possible.

Once they were finally alone, Kazuchiyo felt more at ease, and yet somehow more anxious at the same time. His steps were light but his heart tight and heavy, and he had no idea where to begin. “It’s good to see you,” he managed clumsily. “You look very well.”

“I guess. Well.” Yagi scratched the back of his neck. “Compared to the last time you saw me, I’m sure. How long has it been?”

“Five years.”

“Shit.” Yagi shook himself. “I mean, it’s good to see you, too. You really startled me when you rode in like that.”

They exited the keep together and there slowed a bit, taking their time across the courtyard toward the inner wall. There were still workers along the scaffolding, taking turns serving themselves from a pair of rice pots, and a few of them glanced their way. Kazuchiyo was too absorbed in his companion to think anything of their attention. “What do you mean?” he asked, reliving that shiver when their eyes met upon his entrance. “Didn’t you know I was coming?”

“Of course,” Yagi said awkwardly. “But you’re a lot taller than I remembered.”

A laugh bubbled out of Kazuchiyo, and he blushed, embarrassing himself. It sounded strange to him and he assumed it did to Yagi as well. “It’s been five years,” he reminded him again. “It’d be a shame if I wasn’t any taller.”

“Sure, but….” Yagi heaved a great sigh. “What I mean is, you look well, Kazuchiyo.”

Kazuchiyo’s breath caught, and before he knew it he had stopped walking. It had been so long since he had heard the name in his heart spoken aloud, he wasn’t prepared for the power those syllables still held over him. Emotion strangled him and he couldn’t bring himself to respond.

Yagi stopped, though it took him a moment to recognize himself as the cause of Kazuchiyo’s distress. “Oh—sorry. I’m not supposed to call you that now. It’s Kazu—”

“Kazu,” Kazuchiyo interrupted. He took a deep breath to dispel the grip on his ribs and was able to face Yagi with determination. “When it’s us alone, just Kazu is fine.”

Yagi nodded, his brow heavy with understanding of the gravity. But then his expression eased, and he reached out. Kazuchiyo held very still as Yagi gave a gentle tug to a lock of his bangs. “It looks like you haven’t cut your hair at all since then, either,” he said. “I’m glad that old bear didn’t get his teeth in you.”

He let go and turned to continue on. When he realized that Kazuchiyo was not following, he glanced back. “Did you really want to see the wall? Or was that just an excuse to lose the old men?”

“I do!” Kazuchiyo spurred himself forward, light as air. “I want to hear all about it.”

“It’s not much of a story,” said Yagi. He, too, seemed invigorated by their exchange. “He was careless and I was angry. It’s okay if you call me Yagi, by the way, even in front of the old men. Everyone else does.”

“Good,” said Kazuchiyo, unable to help his bluntness. “I don’t believe ‘Motonobu’ suits you at all.”

Yagi grunted. “There’s lots of things that don’t suit me, as you’ve probably heard.”

They reached the wall, now complete, and they climbed the planks together. Kazuchiyo peered through the arrow slit: as he had noted earlier, thirty feet of forestry had been cleared away from the wall, leaving a long stretch of unprotected land to cross. “He must have been very bold,” he said, “to have crossed that land without being spotted.”

“I assume he was watching us for a long time,” said Yagi. “Memorizing the guard rotations.” He grumbled under his breath. “Or it was magic.”

“Magic,” Kazuchiyo echoed, reminded of Iomori’s gifts to him. “Not magic enough to save him from your keen senses, though.” He turned back to look at Yagi, who was rubbing his nose self-consciously. “Did he confess anything about his master? Or his mission?”

“Not a word. Though I’m sure Utsukawa will tell Aritaka that it was a declaration of war. All they’re waiting for is an excuse.”

Kazuchiyo nodded solemnly and looked inward once more. Up and down the walls the men and women of Sakka province toiled at the scaffolding, some placing the crates that would be used to hold arrows for the defending archers. They were dutiful but cheerful as the sun dipped toward the western wall, and they lit torches to continue working. Before too long it would be bows in their hands instead of hammer and chisel. Kazuchiyo watched them move about in the shadow of Ninari’s grand central keep, their darkened figures blending into the earth, their voices an incomprehensible drone to his ears.

“If Kibaku can’t provide one, Lord Aritaka will use an excuse of his own making to go to war,” he said distractedly. “He doesn’t have a choice.”

“He could always lose his head on the field,” Yagi grumbled, with the same blunt carelessness that Kazuchiyo remembered fondly. “Then you’d be lord of Sakka, and you could make war or peace as you please.”

Kazuchiyo watched a young teen hurrying food and drink to his elders, who were nailing the final railings into place. They could not have been far apart in age, but to Kazuchiyo’s eyes he appeared very young. “I don’t have a choice, either,” he said. “All of Aritaka’s bannermen are fixated on the west. I can’t survive them if I turn my back.”

“You think you have better chances surviving war?” Yagi’s expression twisted. “Your first father died at battle, you know.”

Despite his appearance of insensitivity, Kazuchiyo smiled. “That’s the irony of it,” he said. “My father survived thirty years of war. It was only when he dreamed of peace that it killed him.” He took in a deep breath and faced Yagi with renewed determination. “But as long as you’re in our army, I’m not afraid.”

Yagi leaned back, brow intensely furrowed. He didn’t seem to know what to make of his young lord, who had grown so much and changed so little since their last encounter. “All right,” he said, with clear effort to rise to Kazuchiyo’s confidence in him. “At least it’s more interesting than building a wall.”

Kazuchiyo’s heart swelled with relief. Having invested possibly too much faith in this brief acquaintance from his youth, even Yagi’s artless attestation of loyalty bolstered his spirits as nothing else could have. “Thank you,” he said, as if having been offered a priceless gift. He shifted his weight back and forth, overwhelmed with all he wanted to express. “There’s so much I want to tell you,” he confessed. “So many things that have happened. And I want to know everything that’s happened here, too—everything you’ve been through.” He felt a touch of color in his cheeks. “I’ve thought of you often these five years.”

Yagi scrunched his nose. “There’s...not much to tell,” he said. “But I guess we’ll have plenty of time, if you’re going to be here with Aritaka for a while.” He took a step back to urge them away from the wall. “For now we should head in before they think we’re colluding out here something.”

“All right.” Kazuchiyo smiled and followed him back toward the keep, though Yagi’s words had struck him. He wondered if Yagi remembered that night in Gyoe’s keep, promising to one day take Aritaka’s head for him.