“I think,” Esumi said slowly, watching me struggle through another pattern, “he needs to see it.”
Haru frowned. “See what?”
“What it looks like when someone who has mastered this gift uses it.” Esumi gave the Prince a meaningful look. “He needs to know what is possible, what he may be capable of once he learns control.”
“Esumi, I don’t think—”
“Show him, Haru.” Esumi’s voice was soft but insistent. “Show them both. They need to know he’s not alone.”
For a moment that felt like forever, something passed between them, a silent conversation I couldn’t interpret.
Finally, Haru nodded.
“Step out of the ring, Yoshi,” he said quietly.
I obeyed, confused, moving to stand next to Kaneko as the Prince and Esumi faced each other in the center. They bowed, raised theirbokken, and then—
Haru vanished.
“Gods above,” Kaneko breathed beside me.
No, he hadn’t vanished.
He’d moved.
But gods damn, it happened so quickly that my eyes couldn’t track him.
One moment, he was standing there in the center of the ring bowing toward Esumi; the next, he was behind Esumi,bokkenalready swinging. Esumi barely spun with guard up in time, but then the Prince was gone again, reappearing to Esumi’s left, striking and vanishing and striking again.
“Do you see that?” I whispered to Kaneko, unable to look away. “He’s not even—it’s like he’s stepping between heartbeats.”
“Between moments,” Kaneko agreed, his voice filled with awe. “Like time itself bends for him.”
Haru’sbokkensang as it cut through air, a high keening that hung in the space between movements. He was everywhere and nowhere, a blur of motion that resolved into focus for split seconds before dissolving again. It was like watching smoke fight a shadow, if smoke could wield a sword with deadly precision.
“Look at his footwork.” Kaneko gripped my arm. “He’s not even disturbing the dirt. How is that possible?”
“Control,” I murmured. “Perfectcontrol. Every movement he is exactly where he means to be.”
Esumi defended desperately, his own considerable skill pushed to its absolute limit. He anticipated, predicted, and moved before Prince Haru appeared, but it wasn’t enough. The Prince was simply too fast, too unpredictable, too . . .other.
“He’s beautiful,” Kaneko said softly, then caught himself. “I mean, the technique—the form is—”
“No, you’re right,” I said. “Itisbeautiful, like watching a storm dance.”
“Or a god walking among mortals,” Kaneko added.
The demonstration lasted perhaps a minute, but it felt like hours. When Haru finally stepped back and lowered hisbokken,he wasn’t even breathing hard. Esumi, on the other hand, doubled over with sweat pouring off him like rain.
“Gods above,” Esumi gasped. “I forget . . . every time . . . how fast you really are.”
Prince Haru turned to me. His eyes held something I’d never seen in them before: a depth or understanding—ora recognition.
“This is what you will learn,” he said simply. “It is what you will become, Yoshi. I see it in you. I feel it.”
“You’re . . . like me?” I whispered.
“I am what you are becoming,” he corrected. “I do not understand how you are so blessed, as thismahouruns only in Imperial veins. And yet, here we are.” He walked to the edge of the ring and dropped hisbokkenin the rack, pausing a long moment before turning back toward us. “Your gift feels stronger than mine was at your age. Wilder, yes, but stronger.”
