Snowfall devoured the forest, each flake silent as breath. Asaki moved beneath the pines, her scarf drawn high, the storm biting into her bones. Kiyoku's weight on her back felt heavier than usual, as though the sword, too, sensed what was ahead.
Aizu lay just beyond the ravine — a city wrapped in barbed roofs and black banners, pulsing under the rule of Jin Tsuyugami and Hayate no Koga. Rumor said the capital wept red now. Streets filled with hanging corpses. The Shogunate's seal broken. All under Kagutsuchi's Fire Lily Regime.
But Asaki wasn't here for politics.
She was here to kill.
And she wasn't alone.
She sensed them before she saw them — three shadows pacing her steps through the storm. One was heavy, trudging. One was weightless, like a ghost. And the third… the third moved like a blade already drawn.
"You're walking into fire," said a voice, rich and dark as burnt lacquer.
Asaki turned.
A woman emerged from the mist — crimson hair tied back with black ribbon, eyes as sharp as lacquered steel. She wore a cloak stitched with bone runes, and at her hip, two short blades crossed like fangs.
"Higanabana," Asaki said.
"Didn't expect the name to reach you," the woman replied. "But yes."
Asaki narrowed her eyes. "You're the mercenaries sent to kill Kagutsuchi."
A chuckle came from the shadows. Sagari Kunimoto stepped into view next — tall, broad-shouldered, his white hair hanging like a corpse's veil. Behind him, the gaunt scholar Kunata appeared, adjusting his cracked glasses with one twitching hand. And finally, Ogi — the child assassin, barefoot despite the frost, his gaze fixed on Kiyoku like a starving wolf.
"Funny," Sagari said. "You're the girl with the spirit blade. The one who cut down Kabu."
Asaki didn't respond.
"You're not on our kill list," Kunata added. "Yet."
"I don't kill for lists," Asaki replied. "And I don't answer to men who make them."
Ogi took a step forward, unsheathing his blade just an inch. The snow hissed where it touched the edge, vanishing into steam.
Sagari lifted a hand. "Enough, Ogi."
Asaki's eyes flicked to the boy. "You're still a child."
"He's a killer," Sagari said. "We all are."
"And what are you?" she asked. "Revolutionaries? Butchers?"
"We're necessary," Kunata answered. "The Shogunate wants balance, but balance is an illusion. We bring collapse. Then rebuild from blood."
Asaki's hand hovered near Kiyoku. The blade was singing again, soft but insistent. The snow around her melted in a perfect circle.
"I'm going to Aizu," she said.
Sagari raised a brow. "Then we're walking the same path."
"Not for the same reason."
"No," Sagari admitted. "You're here for revenge."
Her silence confirmed it.
"You think revenge makes you righteous," he said. "But it doesn't. It just makes you sharp."
"Then I'll be sharp enough to bleed an empire," she said, pushing past them.
Ogi turned to follow, but Sagari held him back.
"She's not our enemy," Sagari muttered. "Not yet."
---
Ishikawa dreamt of fire.
The old battlefield stretched endlessly — hills of ash, rivers of molten blood. Screams echoed from places unseen. In the center stood a single figure — his brother, Tomohiro, armor scorched, face burnt to bone, yet smiling.
"You couldn't save me," the dead man whispered.
Ishikawa woke with a start.
The hut was empty.
Only Yoshinobu remained, carving a handle from driftwood, muttering old blessings. The fire had gone low.
"She's gone," Ishikawa said.
Yoshinobu didn't look up. "Of course she is."
"I should've stopped her."
"You couldn't. And even if you tried, she'd have cut you down."
Ishikawa stood, throwing on his coat. "She's not ready."
Yoshinobu looked him dead in the eye. "No. You're not."
Outside, the snow fell like judgment.
---
Aizu's outer district burned like a pyre.
Asaki crouched in the rafters of an abandoned bathhouse. Below, Black Guard officers herded villagers into lines, branding their wrists with molten sigils — the mark of Kagutsuchi.
A woman cried. A child screamed.
Asaki's fingers tightened around Kiyoku's hilt. She waited.
Movement — a captain stepped from the smoke, laughing. His face was tattooed with crimson coils, his teeth sharpened like a beast.
She fell like winter.
Kiyoku sang once — a burst of silver.
The captain's head struck the ground before the body.
In a blur, Asaki landed, eyes glowing faintly with that same pale light. Four guards rushed her. She moved without thought. Kiyoku carved arcs in the snow, each step a death sentence.
One, two, three, four.
When she stopped, the only sound was blood soaking into frost.
The villagers stared.
"Go," she whispered.
And they did.
Behind her, the mist stirred.
Sagari stepped through it, blade in hand. "That was loud."
"I don't care."
"You should. Kagutsuchi will know."
"Good," Asaki said. "Let him."
Kunata emerged next, licking a cracked reed pen. "You're very… visible. Not ideal for infiltration."
"I didn't come here to sneak," Asaki muttered.
Ogi walked past them both and touched the severed head of the captain, almost reverently. "This one wasn't weak."
Asaki turned to leave. "Then tell him not to die next time."
Sagari watched her go.
"She's going to break herself," Kunata said.
"She already has," Sagari replied. "But maybe that's what makes her dangerous."
---
Ishikawa arrived at Aizu's gates at dusk.
The city was wreathed in smoke and banners — the Fire Lily crest waving like a challenge.
He knelt in the dirt, running his fingers along a patch of blood.
Asaki's path.
Always forward. Never cautious.
"You damn fool," he whispered.
The gate guards approached. "State your business."
"I'm looking for someone," Ishikawa said.
One laughed. "Everyone's lost someone. That's what war does."
Ishikawa rose slowly. "Then I'll lose you."
By the time they drew blades, his were already moving.
Kurayami — shadow.
Kurasa — slaughter.
Steel flashed. Guards fell.
As the gates creaked open behind him, Ishikawa muttered to himself.
"I'm not here to save you, Asaki."
He entered Aizu.
"I'm here to bury the ones who broke you."
---
Night fell like a blade.
In the ruins of the outer temple, Asaki sat alone, blood drying on her sleeves. Kiyoku lay across her knees, silent.
She didn't weep. She didn't pray.
She only waited.
Behind her, footsteps.
Sagari again.
He didn't speak. Just sat beside her.
After a while, he asked, "You ever wonder what's left after revenge?"
"I don't need what's left."
He studied her. "That's what I said once."
"What changed?"
Sagari looked at his reflection in the sword's edge. "I kept killing. Long after the reason was gone. And all that was left was a man too dangerous to love."
She didn't flinch.
"I'm not here to be loved," she said.
"Then what are you?"
She stood.
"A blade."
---
To be continued…