At the far end of the park stood a building three stories tall with walls of deep crimson and black roof tiles that gleamed in the fading light. Banners bearing a stylized flower emblem hung from the eaves.
It might’ve been the most beautiful building I had seen in Bara aside from the royal palace. Somehow, that made it even more sinister.
The palanquin stopped at the entrance, and Momoko emerged. Without so much as a glance back, she climbed the steps and entered massive wooden doors that opened before her foot struck the top stair.
My driver pulled to a stop at the edge of the park. “This is as far as I go,” he said. “That’s the House of Petals, not a place for the likes of you or me.”
“The House of Petals,” I repeated as I climbed out of the cart.
“Famous pleasure house, been here for decades. Only the rich get through those doors.” The driver looked at me withsomething like pity. “Whatever you’re planning, friend, forget it. That place is beyond you, beyond most people.”
He wheeled the rickshaw about and left, wheels crunching on the gravel path.
I stood there at the edge of the park, staring at the crimson building where beautiful slaves were trained to pleasure the wealthy. Where Momoko brought her purchases. Where Kaneko could be held captive.
Behind those walls, in some room I could not see, was he being forced to—?
I couldn’t focus on that. This could be nothing, another false hope to add to the pile. But it felt like something, like a thread, thin and fragile, but real.
I looked down at my hands, scarred and coated with dried blood from the day’s dock work; at my clothes, dirty and worn and smelling of sweat and fish; at my reflection in a nearby pond, gaunt, exhausted, barely recognizable as the man I had been six months ago.
The driver was right. I couldn’t simply walk through those doors. They would throw me out—or worse.
But I was here. I couldn’t give up now. I had to know, one way or the other.
Stepping back into the shadows at the edge of the park, I watched the building, studied it, memorized the doors, the windows, the way servants came and went through a side entrance. I might not be able to enter as a customer, but perhaps there were other ways inside.
The sun set. Lanterns lit inside the House made the windows glow like fluttering eyes. Music drifted out—ashamisenbeing played with exquisite skill, beautiful and refined, a piece of heaven, just like that sailor had said. Or a piece of hell, depending on whether you entered as a guest or a slave.
I kept to the shadows, watching and waiting, as the last light faded from the sky. Somewhere in that building was Kaneko. I didn’t know it, but I could feel it.
I would find a way to reach him.
Or die in the attempt.
Chapter 15
Yoshi
Exhaustion became my constant companion. It lived in my bones, in my muscles, in the spaces between breaths. I woke with it, trained with it, fell into fitful sleep with it still clinging to me like a second skin.
Every morning, the pre-dawn bells dragged me from dreams of home—of Kaneko, always Kaneko—and thrust me into another day of forms and drills and the master’s reed finding every mistake my body made.
Crack.
There were so many mistakes.
The tall boy—I had learned his name was Daichi—moved through the forms with mechanical precision. The stocky boy, Kenta, made up for his lack of grace with raw strength. Even Teshi, the fidgety small boy, found his rhythm after those first brutal weeks. I could tell that his fear had not left him, but he had learned to channel it into focus. His movements were quick, precise, and efficient.
And then there was me.
Always half a step behind.
When we ran the obstacle course, I finished last. When we practiced forms, the reed found my shoulders, back, and legs more than any of the others. When we sparred—and gods, I dreaded sparring—I was thrown, struck, and defeated again and again.
I tried. The gods know I tried.
My muscles screamed, lungs burned, and vision swam with exhaustion, but my body refused to obey. It mattered little how hard I worked or how much I ate, my muscles refused to strengthen. My body could not keep pace.
