“Good. Sleep through what remains of the night. I will see you tomorrow after the sun sets.”
He strode away, leaving me alone in the corridor. I returned to my chamber, removed the black clothing and hid it away. My body ached in new ways, and my hands were scraped and raw, but beneath the exhaustion, something else stirred. Purpose.Realpurpose. This wasn’t simply performing pleasure or gathering whispered secrets, it was doing something, something that mattered.
I thought of the attack on Tooi, the bodies, the burning. If I could prevent something like that, if I could stop even one attack by observing from the shadows, by being where no one expected—
Perhaps this was what I should have become from the start.
A shadow in service of something larger than myself.
Chapter 26
Kaneko
Iexpected Sakurai, not a knock at my door. It was close to midnight, and I was already dressed in black—but this knock was different, soft and uncertain. I slid the door open to find a young girl, perhaps fourteen, her face painted in the style of a courtesan-in-training. I recognized her from the common area—one of the newer acquisitions, still learning the basics.
“Kaneko-san,” she whispered, bowing. “Sakurai-sansent me. He has an errand and cannot come for your lesson tonight.”
An errand?
That could mean anything. A mission, intelligence to report, another target to eliminate, another courtesan to train for Momoko. Hells, he could have taken a rare moment to do something for himself, though I doubted that. He’d never shown the slightest interest in amusing himself beyond the erotic nature of his work in the house.
“Thank you,” I said.
The girl bowed again and scurried away, clearly uncomfortable with whatever task had brought her to my door at midnight.
I stood in my doorway, considering, wondering when I last had an entire evening to myself. I couldn’t simply return to bed and waste this opportunity, this moment of faux freedom.
Then Sakurai’s voice echoed in my mind:Practice whenever possible.
And I did need practice. Desperately.
My last attempt with theshurikenhad been abysmal—missing the target more often than hitting it. The deadly stars now lay hidden beneath my extra clothing, waiting for me to return to my training.
Tonight, I would practice alone. I would test myself without Sakurai’s watchful presence, learn if I could truly do this work on my own—but the throwing stars would remain behind while I tested myself against the shadows of Bara.
The city spread before me—a painting of midnight with smears of yellow where lanterns still burned.
I moved with purpose, not exploring but training, choosing a route across rooftops—one Sakurai had shown me—and ran it three times, each time trying to move faster while maintaining silence.
On my third run, I made it across without a single sound.
“Progress,” I muttered.
Bored of the repetitive drill, I found a merchant’s compound and circled it from above, studying the guards’ patterns, timingtheir movements, and identifying the gaps in their patrol. If I’d been sent to infiltrate their location, I would need to know everything, see everything.
But this was practice, not intrusion. I didn’t enter, not tonight, but I could have. I knew it with the certainty of the faithful. That knowledge itself was valuable.
I also practiced listening, crouching on rooftops near taverns and teahouses where the young traded sleep for drink and companionship. Most of what I heard was mundane—complaints about taxes, gossip about neighbors, crude jokes between drunk men. I strained to separate meaningful conversation from background noise.
But once, I caught fragments of two men discussed shipments. One mentioned “avoiding the northern routes” and “damned rebels.” The other whispered about attacks on rice convoys he’d heard whispered among other traders. Rice was commerce. In some places, it served as currency more than coins. An attack on a convoy ferrying grain was unheard of, unthinkable. I committed the conversation to memory, word for word, to report to Sakurai.
This was the work. This was what I was supposed to do. And I was doing it. Alone. Successfully. That brought a flare of satisfaction. I was no longer useless, no longer helpless. I was becoming what they needed me to be. I was making a difference.
The men moved on, so I crept toward the warehouse district next, testing different approaches, learning the layout of buildings while cataloging which had guards and which didn’t.
Before I realized where my path had led, I found myself near the docks. The smell hit me first—salt and fish and tar—familiar smells from another life.
I paused on a rooftop, orienting myself.
