“As a master,” he says calmly, “I can offer none.”
The words hit harder than his throw.
My jaw clenches. “Are you going to turn me in? Take the hit yourself?”
He doesn’t even blink. “You would not have come here if that were a concern.”
I look away. He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“Besides,” he adds, blowing the steam gently, “masters are not obligated to report the sighting of an exile.”
That word.
Exile.
I flinch before I can school it. A tiny betrayal of control.
Kenji, of course, sees everything.
His voice softens—not gentle, exactly, but close enough for him.
“You were set up, Saint. Anyone who knows you understands this. You would never betray your Guild.”
I take a bigger sip and swallow hard. For a moment, I’m eight years old again, staring at the man who promised to forge me into something the world could never break.
“I need a way off Japan. And weapons.” My tone is steady, but I’m shaking inside.
He sets his cup down. I wrap both hands around mine letting the heat ground me.
“I thank you,” he says, “for visiting an old man. I only wish you would come when you are not running for your life.”
“Well,” I say dryly, “I’ll put it on my calendar.”
He stands.
Just… stands.
Like the conversation is over. I stare at the floorboards at his feet. Still wearing his split-toe boots from working in his gardens.
He walks toward the back door, speaking as he goes—his voice shifting into that drifting, absentminded tone he uses when he’s saying something he technically isn’t saying.
A plane roars overhead—low, loud enough to rattle the shoji screens. Kenji glances up at the ceiling as if the noise personally offends him.
“These local airstrips,” he mutters. “Always sending out cargo shipments at ridiculous hours. Every hour, it seems. Impossible for an old man to sleep.”
My eyes narrow.
There it is.
Hidden in the mundane. A hint.
He slides open the back door, letting in a slice of cool night air.
“And,” he says lightly, almost to himself, “I must remember to fix the lock on the barn. It keeps slipping. Wouldn’t want it swinging open all night.”
He steps outside, still not looking back.
“Best if I sleep early,” he adds. “Will need to be up at dawn so I can fix it.”
