Kaida drank from her jug like it she'd been thirsty for years. She let the silence stretch for quite some time.
"So. Toki."
I didn't respond.
She grinned. "That your real name?"
"No."
"Figured." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Heard some names for you, y'know. Beast of the Apricot District. Demon-Tongue."
Kiyomi looked at me, just once.
I didn't meet her gaze.
Kaida kept going. "They say you killed ten men before your first shave. That you bit a monk's ear off. That you burned down a temple."
She tilted her head, one brow raised.
"I want to know which parts are true."
I stared into the fire.
Let the crackling do the talking for a while.
Then I said, "None of them."
She smirked. "So you've never ripped out a man's throat?"
"Didn't say that."
Kiyomi shifted slightly.
The distance between us grew.
Kaida drank again. "They say there's something inside you. Something old and angry. Something that doesn't care who it kills."
She leaned in, firelight flickering across her sharp teeth.
"I saw the mark. Back at the temple. That wasn't just old magic."
I finally met her eyes.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"Truth."
"That's not what people like you look for."
Kaida sat back. Sighed.
"I've seen demons before. Possessed warriors. Broken ones. They all have that same shiver behind their teeth."
She pointed at me with two fingers.
"You? You've still got yours buried."
She raised her jug.
"To your restraint, Ronin."
I didn't drink and didn't trust her.
But I didn't stop her from sitting by the fire, either.
Kiyomi hadn't said a word since then.
She wasn't cold—not outwardly. But she wasn't close, either.
Not to me.
Not anymore.
Kaida turned her head mid-step. "You two always this fun in the mornings?"
No answer.
She snorted. "Cute."
The path narrowed. Trees leaned in. Moss-covered stones lined the edges—like graves, half-swallowed by time.
Kaida slowed. One hand drifting near her blade.
I stopped too.
"Kiyomi," I murmured, without turning. "Stay close."
She didn't respond.
But her steps grew quieter.
Nearer.
Good.
Kaida knelt. Touched the soil.
Then flicked a pebble forward.
It snapped mid-air.
Invisible wire.
"Ambush," she muttered.
And then all hell broke loose.
Figures dropped from the trees—silent, masked and fast.
These were not simple bandits but Professionals.
Two went for Kaida. She grinned like she was looking at her breakfast.
Three came for me. Poor bastards.
The fourth?
Went for Kiyomi.
I turned. Too slow.
Kaida shouted. "Behind—!"
And Kiyomi—
Moved.
Not away. Forward.
She twisted, drew a charm, and slammed it against the attacker's chest.
The air shattered.
A flash of ink and wind exploded outward, hurling the masked figure back into a tree hard enough to snap bark and bone.
Kaida whistled. "Damn."
Kiyomi's eyes were wide, shaking. But she stood her ground.
I stared but shortly I was reminded that we weren't done.
The first trap snapped mid-air—a wire strung and Kaida started to curse.
I didn't, I was already moving.
Three dropped in on me. Black masks. Sloped blades, fast and coordinated.
But not faster than me.
The first came high, with an overhead slice. I stepped in, too close for the arc, and snapped my elbow into his throat.
He staggered.
I drove my knee into his face before he hit the ground.
He wasn't getting back up.
The second went low, trying to pin my leg.
Bad call.
I stomped his ankle with my full weight. It cracked and He screamed.
I just brought my katana down—not a clean slash, but it did finish the job, it went straight through the collarbone.
The third?
He hesitated.
I grinned at him.
"Run."
He didn't.
He charged.
And I laughed.
I let him swing. Once. Twice.
I dodged both—easy.
He lunged a third time, wide open.
And I didn't dodge.
I stepped in.
Grabbed his blade hand with mine—twisted until I heard tendons scream—and then I bit into his shoulder.
He screamed louder than the other two combined.
I let go.
Spat the flesh into the dirt.
Then dragged him to the ground and stabbed him once in the gut.
"Who sent you?" I growled.
He didn't answer.
I twisted the blade.
He screamed something in a dialect I half-recognized.
Didn't matter.
His eyes were already rolling.
I looked up.
Kaida was fighting two on her end—laughing, dodging, striking low.
She was good.
Not perfect. But wild.
A woman who fought like she didn't care if she lived.
Kiyomi?
She hadn't moved.
She stood frozen between the trees, one charm clutched in her hand—glowing softly.
Her lips were parted. Eyes wide. Fixed on me.
And then I realized—
Not on the fight.
On me.
My breath came fast.
My hands were soaked.
And her face said it all:
Fear.
Not of the masked men.
Not of the killers.
But of me.
Kaida ducked the slash with a pivot that looked more like a stumble.
Then she drove her blade up into his ribs.
She twisted it once. Pulled it free.
Blood sprayed like a fan painting the air.
"Woo!" she whooped, tossing her head back. "Still got it."
She flicked the blade clean. Half-turned toward me.
Then paused.
She saw what Kiyomi saw.
Me.
Standing over the last body of the attackers.
A bloody mess of bone and cloth at my feet.
My hand was still clenched around my sword, but I wasn't gripping it.
I was choking it.
Kaida didn't say a word, she just watched.
Kiyomi finally moved.
She stepped forward, slowly.
Her charm still glowed between her fingers.
Her face was pale, her expression caught between fear and guilt.
"You're hurt," she whispered.
I looked down.
There were cuts. A few. Minor.
Didn't feel them.
Didn't care.
"I'm fine."
She flinched.
At my voice.
Not my blade.
That was worse.
Kaida sheathed her sword.
"Efficient," she said. "And terrifying. Just how I like my traveling companions."
Still trying to keep it light.
But the look in her eyes said something different.
She'd seen something too.
Kiyomi knelt beside one of the bodies. Hands shaking.
She reached toward the mask. Paused.
Then pulled it off.
The face beneath it was… young.
No older than her.
His eyes were wide open.
She stared, longer than I could bear.
"We need to go," I said.
She stood back up and didn't speak. Didn't look at me.
Kaida rolled her shoulders. "Guess someone really wants us dead."
"Yeah," I said. "They're gonna have to try harder."
We left the bodies in the dirt.
Kaida walked with her blade across her shoulder, the empty jug swinging lazily from her hip. Like they hadn't just killed five men. Like it was just another day.
Her voice came low.
"You gonna ask why I'm still here?"
I didn't look at her. "Don't need to."
"Good. I hate justifying myself to men who growl more than they talk."
I walked a few steps. Then said:
"You're not here for her."
Kaida smirked. "Nope."
"You're here for me."
That made her glance sideways.
Sharp. Amused.
"Half the bounty scrolls with your name on them are false, y'know. Exaggerated. But the stories?"She tapped her temple. "Some of them hum just right."
I didn't respond.
Didn't have to.
"You're wondering if I'll stick a knife in your back when you sleep," she said.
"No," I said.
"Oh?" She arched a brow. "How sweet."
"I'm wondering if you'll try it before I do."
She laughed. A sharp, short bark of a sound.
"Careful, Ronin. You might grow on me."
I looked ahead, where Kiyomi was walking
"She's the only reason I haven't taken your head."
Kaida's grin didn't fade.
"Then let's hope she sticks around."
We arrived at Tsubame.
It didn't look like much—tiled roofs, crooked fences, a well that probably was haunted. The smoke from a dozen hearths curled upward into the darkening sky.
But the people?
They didn't smile.Didn't wave.Didn't even pretend.
Just stood on porches. In doorways. Eyes following us.
Kaida was the first to speak.
"Friendly bunch."
I said nothing.
Kiyomi clutched her sleeves tighter.
We made for the inn. Only one. Of course.
The sign was faded. The door creaked.
Inside, the smell hit first—smoke, pickled radish, old tatami, and something wrong underneath it. Something wet.
The innkeeper bowed.
"Three travelers. Ah—yes. Of course. Please. Sit. I-I'll bring food."
Kaida leaned in after he vanished.
"Think he recognizes your pretty face?"
"I think he's trying not to."
We ate in silence. Rice that had cooled too long. Fish that flaked apart like old parchment.
Kiyomi barely touched hers.
Kaida drank most of the tea. Probably to spite the taste.
I listened.
To the floorboards creaking upstairs.
To the second set of footsteps behind the wall.
To the whisper of someone outside the window.
When the old man returned, Kiyomi rose.
"We're headed to the Temple of the Hollow Flame."
He froze.
Then smiled.
The kind of smile you carve, not grow.
"Of course you are."
He didn't ask why.
He just nodded, backed away, and vanished into the kitchen.
Kaida exhaled through her nose. "I hate places like this."
"They're quiet," I said.
"They're too quiet."
Kiyomi looked at us both.
Then, softly:"They're scared."
And that was when we heard it.
A voice.
Not from inside the inn.
From outside.
From the well.
Whispering our names.