In the Fox’s war room, a man knelt in front of us, crying and begging for his life. Five other men held him down.
Father pointed a knife at the pleading man. “A new war room’s floor must be christened with violence, its veins fed with blood. If not. . .the empire will rot from the inside out.”
I swallowed.
Father held a knife just inches from the pleading man’s face. “Would you like to do the honor, Kenji?”
I widened my eyes. “M-me?”
Jobon frowned on the other side of us. “Father, I do not think Kenji needs to be in here. He’s a teen, but still young. Mother would not be pleased.”
“This is our way.” Father shook his head. “He must see this and your mother is a woman. There is no place for a woman’s presence or voice in war.”
“Yes, Father.” Jobon gave a slow bow. “However, Kenji will not be a part of our world. I believe that he should be spared—”
“No one knows the future, son.” Father turned back to me. “Take the knife, Kenji.”
“No, Father.” My voice shook. I was close to pissing myself. “I. . .don’t want to do it.”
Father let out a disappointing breath. “I fear your mother has ruined you.”
Completely ashamed, I lowered my gaze to the floor.
He looked past me and put his focus on his desk. There, Hiro sat on top, munching on candy. He must have been thirteen then. Since I’d known that I would see him that day, I’d brought him a big bag of Konpeito and surprised him.
Father shook his head. “Hiro? Can you put the bag of candy down long enough to participate?”
Hiro popped a small pink ball into his mouth, chewed once, and hopped off the desk. He didn’t let go of the bag of candy. He just walked up to the kneeling man and started whistling an unnerving tune.
My heartbeat picked up.
Whistling louder, Hiro took the knife from our father’s hand and with no hesitation, he drew the blade across the man’s neck. So fast, I hadn’t been able to blink.
The sound was wet, the spray immediate.
The man gurgled and sagged forward.
I desperately wanted to look away, but knew if I did, Father would yell.
Softening his tune, Hiro slapped the bloodied knife back into our father’s palm.
Droplets landed on Father’s sleeve.
For the first time ever, I saw the Fox recoil.
And with that, Hiro turned on his heel, walked back to the desk, and jumped onto it with the same casual grace as before. A second later, he was popping more candy into his mouth with now bloody fingers.
Jobon stared at him, startled like he’d just seen something in our brother he hadn’t accounted for.
I was shocked too. But somewhere in me, I knew Hiro had it in him.
Our father stood there longer than necessary, looking at Hiro. His expression wasn’t simple approval—it was a tangle of awe, disgust, and something colder.
Fear.
I returned my thoughts to the present.
How odd that my Tiger’s little challenge with Kiko had gotten me to initiate the forgotten ritual.
