I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
How could I explain that while he’d been learning honor and discipline at Suwa Temple, I’d been learning to kill in thirteen different ways?
That the same hands that steadied him during practice knew precisely where to press to stop a man’s heart?
That every night in the House of Petals, after learning the arts of pleasure with another man, a shadow-wrapped figure had taught me to become a weapon?
My chest constricted.
If I told him now, that trust in his eyes would shatter. He would look at me and not see his lifelong friend but a tool of the shadows—something dangerous, something tainted, something to be feared. Worse, he might feel obligated to keep my secret, and that burden could destroy him.
Or he might feel honor-bound to tell Haru or the masters, and then . . .
No.
The shadows had eyes everywhere.
If they learned I’d revealed their existence, they wouldn’t just come for me. They’d come for Yoshi, too, to eliminate any loose ends. My silence was his shield.
I was his shield.
Always and forever.
“I’m just tired.” I managed a smile. “Today was . . . a lot.”
“Haru is pretty incredible,” Yoshi said, his eyes bright. “Do you think I could really become like that?”
“You’ll be even greater,” I said, and meant it.
And I’ll protect you, I added silently.I’ll guard you from the shadows, from the Empire, from whatever comes.
Even if it meant breaking my vow.
Even if it meant the shadows came for me instead.
As we walked back to Yoshi’s chamber, I felt eyes on us from the darkened corridors. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe not. The shadows had reached into Suwa to leave their message.
They could reach in again whenever they chose.
Your time comes.
Chapter 5
Haru
Every muscle in my body ached as Esumi and I finally made our way back to our chambers. The sun had long since set, painting the mountain peaks beyond our window in shades of indigo and violet. The temple bells had already rung for evening meditation—which we’d missed again. The masters would have words for us tomorrow, but tonight I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“I think my bruises have bruises,” I groaned, sliding open the door to our room.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have insisted on demonstrating the seventh form quite so enthusiastically,” Esumi said, though his own movements were stiff as he followed me inside. “Yoshi needed to see control, not . . . whatever that was.”
“That was artistry,” I argued.
“That was you showing off.”
I moved toward the low door that connected to our private bathing chamber—a luxury afforded to so few at Suwa thatI almost felt guilty using it. The door was carved with lotus blossoms, their petals worn smooth by generations of hands.
