"I'm not most people."
Warmth flickered in his expression. "No. You're not."
The air between us shifted. A wall came down, and understanding rose in its place.
I looked down at the sketchpad, but I wasn't seeing the page anymore. I was letting everything Hiro said settle into places in my brain that I didn't know existed.
Death as a mirror.
Killing as a confession of the person’s soul. The truth of a man laid bare in the moment he takes a life.
My heart began to pound.
If that was real—if I believed it—then what did that say about the man I had fallen in love with?
I thought about the pyre and looked up. "When Kenji burned those traitors. . ."
Hiro went very still.
"What does that say about him?" I cleared my throat. "Using your way of understanding someone."
For a long moment, Hiro didn't answer. He just looked at me.
Measuring.
Deciding.
"You really want to know?"
"Ineedto know."
He nodded slowly. "Then I'll tell you. But remember—you asked."
I braced myself.
"Fire is absolute."
“Okay.”
"It doesn't wound. It doesn't warn. It erases. Completely. Totally.”
I parted my lips.
“Not quick like a blade. Not clean like a bullet. Fire is slow. Consuming. A man who chooses fire doesn't want his enemies dead—he wants themunmade. Reduced to ash so complete there's nothing left to bury. Nothing left to remember."
My heart boomed in my ear.
"My brother sees betrayal as unforgivable. Not just punishable. Erasable. Because even the memory of it is a threat." Hiro's jaw tightened. "Those traitors didn't just die, Nyomi. They were deleted. Removed from existence."
My fingers found the edge of the sketchpad and gripped it. "That's. . .terrifying."
"Or safe?"
I didn't answer.
"Because here's what you're missing. He did it publicly. In front of everyone."
"And that matters."
