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The sakura blossoms are in beautiful spring bloom on Narukami Island. It's been some time since Sara, usually on the front lines on Yashiori Island this past year, has been able to visit. She's here to find whoever's been counterfeiting Visions to evade the Vision Hunt Decree, but the Tenryou Commission's noose is drawing close around their counterfeiter now that Shikanoin Heizou has taken the case. She'd been able to spare a few hours to visit the bake-danuki she had once chastised and sometimes now feeds, ensuring that they are causing no trouble in her absence.
She makes her way back down the mountains and towards Inazuma City as the sun begins to set, turning the sky violet and casting long shadows from every tree and bush. The artisans and shopkeepers of Hanamizaka have ended their work for the day, and the streets are filled with a hubbub of friendly talk and laughter. It's comforting to hear such a peaceful sound. It reminds Sara that her grim work on the front is for a purpose: to keep these subjects of the Almighty Shogun safe, so that they'll never have to endure the suffering of war.
Perhaps she's too caught up in that thought, because she should have seen the small figure careening around a corner before they got anywhere near her, but instead she nearly trips over the child as he tries frantically to dodge out of her way. A gaily-painted ball flies free from his hands and bounces off over the cobblestones, and she flinches at its passage.
"Watch yourself!" she snaps at him, her wings snapping out as she jumps back, her hand going to her bow in battle-honed instinct.
The boy trips and hits the ground hard, his wail shattering the peaceful hubbub of the streets. He pushes himself to his knees and looks up wide-eyed at her, at her spread wings, at the bow she's taken in hand. "S-sorry," he says, shrinking back.
"Hey, leave him alone!" A bright-hued figure, somewhat familiar, comes bolting out of a nearby shop. The Naganohara girl is scowling fiercely, but that falls away as she realizes who she's facing. "Oh, hey, Kujou Sara...."
There are more children gathering nearby, the boy's playmates. The bravest of them approach, ducking behind Naganohara and clutching at her clothes. They all peer at Sara with wide, fearful eyes. She folds her wings in tight against her back and tucks her bow away, ashamed now of her reaction.
"The fault was mine. I should have paid better attention to my surroundings. Are you all right?" she asks the boy.
He's on his feet now, sidling up to Naganohara. His knees and the palms of his hands are dirty and scraped from his rough landing. He gives Sara a wary look and doesn't answer.
"Miss Yoimiya, it's a youkai," a girl behind her says.
"Hey, it's okay," Naganohara says confidently, ruffling the boy's hair. "This is a general of the Shogun's Army, and she works with the Doushin, too. I know her. Mostly from noise complaints, ahaha.... But she's a good youkai, working for the Shogun!"
Sara nods at this description and does her best to look properly official and non-threatening, folding her wings in as tight as they'll go. "I do serve the Almighty Shogun."
"And she's not mad at you, Souta, see? You just startled her. This is why you're supposed to look where you're going when you run! You got banged up, and she could've gotten hurt, too."
"I have a medical kit with me if he requires care," Sara offers.
Naganohara flashes Sara a grin, then turns and crouches down to inspect the boy's hands and knees. "Nah, it's all just scrapes. None of them are even bleeding."
"My hands hurt," the boy tells.
"We can fix that easy-peasy. Give them here," Naganohara says, reaching for his upheld hands. She leans in and presses her lips against the heel of one hand, then another. "There we go! All better?"
"Yeah."
"Great! Say sorry to the General for running into her, and then you can all go back to your game."
The boy mumbles something that might be "sorry," soft and small, still a little wide-eyed when he looks up at Sara. She feels acutely aware of the edges of her wings, not quite possible to hide behind her back, and her mask askew on her head. She nods to him in answer.
"I apologize, as well."
"Okay, you're square. Just remember to be careful from now on," Naganohara tells the boy, with one last head-pat.
He nods, then skitters away, his friends following. They gather around the ball that had ended up far down the street and start kicking it, resuming whatever game had been interrupted by the near-collision. Sara deliberately turns her back and makes herself relax her tight-held wings.
"Hey, thanks for being so cool about that," Naganohara says, turning that bright grin on Sara again. "I'm sorry they made a big deal about you being youkai. Their parents tell them scary stories about youkai sometimes to get them to behave, and I guess I don't really help by telling them my fireworks can scare them away.... But it was nice of you to apologize to Souta! And for offering to treat him."
"I was paying as little attention to my route as he was," Sara admits, shifting uncomfortably at the unwarranted praise. "And I'm afraid I caused that fear myself, reacting as I would if I was surprised by an enemy. It would only have been right to treat him if he'd needed it, although I am glad that he didn't. But I'm curious about your analgesic technique. Did you employ pressure points?"
"Anages- you mean kissing it better?" Naganohara laughs. "Come on, you know how that works."
"I'm afraid I don't."
"It's a classic, though! Even if they're not really hurt, any pain feels like a big deal at that age, you know? So you kiss it for them so they know you're taking it seriously, and usually that's all they need to feel better. Your dad must have done that for you."
Sara can remember being that boy's age, freshly arrived in the Tenryou Commission's headquarters and newly adopted by the Kujou Clan. She had learned swiftly, training with the soldiers, how to tell a serious wound from a simple ache or pain, and never to complain about the latter. The thought of Takayuki, erect and proud, ever crouching down to kiss a scrape is completely unimaginable.
"That would have been beneath the dignity of the Kujou Clan," Sara tells her. "The children of artisans can afford to lead gentle lives because the children of samurai are raised to protect them. It was important for me to learn to bear insignificant pain without complaint, so that I can better serve the Shogun in preserving that life for them."
"That's not how it works!" Naganohara's grin fades into indignation. "Kids are kids, no matter what parents they have. They all need to be cared for."
"I was cared for," Sara says sharply. "I am alive today, and honored to be in the Almighty Shogun's service, because of the care of the Kujou clan head. I will not hear him criticized."
Naganohara flinches back from her tone. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to insult anyone. I'll just... let you go now, I guess. Thanks again for being cool with the kids."
She bounds off back towards her shop before Sara can ask how she was, in any way, 'cool.' Taking a few deep breaths, Sara registers that her shoulders are tense and forces them to loosen again, then starts off onward through the city again. Somewhere in the distance, she can hear children shouting to each other, joyous again now that the scare is over.
It's their happiness she's protecting, she reminds herself, trying to reclaim the contentment of earlier. Even if the Vision Hunt has put the Tenryou Commission in conflict with some citizens, the protection of the Shogun's people is still their foremost duty. It's as she'd told Naganohara: she was raised to bear up through pain so these children can be permitted their joy. It's an honor, not a pity, although a civilian can't be expected to understand.
***
The escape of the Kamisato's housekeeper from the Almighty Shogun herself is a stunning humiliation for Tenryou Commission. Fortunately, it isn't Sara's humiliation to bear. She's back on the front lines in Kannazuka when the foreign traveler defies the Shogun and escapes the commission's pursuit. The war, bloody and infuriating as it's become as the conflict draws endlessly out, is at least more straightforward in its objectives and progression than the politically fraught Vision Hunt.
Despite Sangonomiya's questionable allies and their tactics, Sara presses the resistance hard. The traveler bravely confronts her at the battle where those allies appear, then seems to vanish overnight. Sara is still trying to achieve a new triumph in their absence when she's ordered once again to return to Narukami Island to deal with matters there.
Frustrated, Sara once again leaves her troops behind under Masahito's command and makes her way back to Inazuma City. The only silver lining of this most recent return is that she can once again visit the Narukami Shrine as she prefers to do--a piety that is rewarded in the moment by finally locating the foreign traveler at last.
Except then Guuji Yae turns her back with an infuriating smile, a ludicrous accusation, and a reminder of the Shogun's law. It's only the last that stays Sara's hand. She refuses to believe that the Guuji has any proof of what she claims. But she does order the men who had been with her to silence, to prevent rumors from spreading before the Guuji's supposed evidence is proven to be nothing but air.
In the meantime, she avoids Takayuki, busying herself with the hunt for the Kamisato's fugitive servant in order to keep from having to ask him for orders and see him face-to-face. Those of the Tenryou Commission who had been present for the ruined ritual, and share blame for the commission's humiliation, are disturbingly eager to find him for reasons that have nothing to do with justice at all. Sara reminds everyone that punishment in this case is reserved exclusively to the Almighty Shogun. She's not sure that everyone takes that reminder as seriously as they should.
Without proof, and perhaps even with it, attempting to search the Kamisato Clan's estate would be a political disaster. The road to it, though, can lawfully be watched. Sara takes a patrol shift one afternoon in the Chinju Forest, terrain she knows well of old. Takayuki should be inspecting the Commission offices today, if urgent affairs don't prevent him, and she needs a reason not to be there.
As twilight approaches she comes unexpectedly upon Lady Kamisato, making her way to the estate in the low evening light. The lady has no escort with her that Sara can see. She glances about, in case that housekeeper, who has sometimes served as her guard, might have left the road upon spotting her, but there's nothing but the silent darkness beneath the trees. Likely the Shuumatsuban are her guardians this day.
"Lady Kamisato," Sara greets her as she draws close, bowing her head respectfully.
"General Kujou." The lady's voice isn't warm, but neither is it chilly, merely soft and polite. "What brings you here tonight?"
"I'm on patrol."
Lady Kamisato smiles at her, still perfectly polite. "I hadn't realized that my brother had asked the Tenryou Commission to patrol the road to our gates."
"Safety on all the roads of Narukami Island are the responsibility of the Tenryou Commission," Sara reminds her. "We may usually leave this one to the Kamisato samurai out of respect for their prowess, but with fugitives on the loose, we're taking additional precautions."
"I see. Thank you for your diligence, General Kujou, though I assure you that our samurai would be able to handle any fugitives they find. It seems wasteful for one of the Shogun's greatest generals to be patrolling a road this peaceful."
It's unwise to speak openly of the subtle opposition between their commissions, she knows that, but the politic politeness of it all makes Sara's teeth ache. They both know exactly who she's hunting, and all this double-talk is beyond tedious. Maybe she can do both their clans a favor by abandoning it. The vicious threats the humiliated officers had whispered to each other when her back was turned still niggle at her mind.
"I wouldn't complain so quickly. If I capture your housekeeper along this road, I can guarantee his safety, even if he offers resistance. I can't make that guarantee of any other member of the Tenryou Commission that might find him here." Lady Kamisato is frowning, now, but Sara presses on. "You might inform him that I swear to ensure no harm will come to him if he surrenders himself peacefully. I understand that there has been reason for concern about our prisoners' treatment previously, but I will not permit such to happen again. I will guard him personally, if necessary."
"I believe you would," Lady Kamisato says, nodding seriously. "How long will that guarantee hold?"
"So long as I am on this island and able to intervene. I will be here the next two days at least."
"I cannot say where Thoma is, but given the chance, I'll pass your promise along."
"Can't say," Sara asks, memory of her recent failures goading her to press just a little harder, "or won't? I understand he's a dependent of your clan, but he did defy the Almighty Shogun."
Lady Kamisato's smile falls away. "Thoma has been faithful to us through all of our clan's troubles. He's family to us, not merely a dependent."
Ridiculous. A servant, however loyal, is still a servant. That the Kamisatos would take the risks they're taking for this foreign-born housekeeper, careful as they're being even now to maintain a veneer of deniability over it all, is almost incomprehensible. He has been loyal, yes, but he owes their clan everything, as Sara owes the Kujou Clan everything. To call him 'family' to Sara's face feels almost like an insult.
One that Kamisato surely doesn't mean, even by implication. Sara realizes she's been mantling her wings and pulls them sharply in, taking a step back.
"But he did betray the Almighty Shogun. Don't forget that both our first loyalty is to her," Sara warns her. "My guarantee stands. I advise you to take advantage of it while I'm still present to deliver on my promises. I doubt the Shogun will be merciful if it's found your clan has been hiding a fugitive from her justice."
"Thank you for your warning, General Kujou," Lady Kamisato says, nodding to her. "I wish you fair weather on your patrol."
Sara takes another step back, off the road, to let Lady Kamisato pass as she starts forward again. Frustration bubbles hot and bitter in her chest and at the back of her throat. It's so clear that they're hiding him, and she finds it genuinely pains her that Lady Kamisato isn't taking her warnings to heart. Their misplaced loyalty seems to come from real affection, and those are always the worst cases, when care and kindness drive a misdeed.
They're still in the wrong. A part of her recoils at even the thought of brandishing a weapon at the Shogun, as their housekeeper supposedly did. Takayuki would turn her in without hesitation, and would be in the right to do so. This warmth and affection the Kamisatos feel for their servant has led to the shameful lenience they've shown him. It would be better for all of them if they had remembered that he owes them, as she owes the Kujou Clan, and never the other way around.
***
After the revelation of Takayuki's betrayal, it's almost a relief when ice and fire conjoin to strike Sara down, relieving at last the tearing in her chest that has plagued her since she read those false reports. She wakes again under the curved roofs of the Narukami Shrine, and is only slightly less surprised to wake there than she is to wake at all. Though it is a sensible move, if the intent was to preserve her life, as the bandages and sharp odor of medications suggest. Her chances in the Tenryou Commission's own hospital would be poor right now.
The shrine maiden assigned to care for her is patient, and kind, and refuses to tell her anything about how events have progressed since Sara's defeat. "Guuji Yae will explain everything, as soon as she has the time," she tells Sara, but Guuji Yae does not have the time yet. For three days, as Sara lies on her side, the healing bones of her wings aching and the healing scalds down her front throbbing, Guuji Yae is too busy to spare her any time.
On the third day Sara manages to rise from her bed without passing out and declares that if Guuji Yae does not have the time for her, she will return to the Kujou Clan's estate and find out their fate for herself. The shrine maiden asks her to please, please lie back down, promising that if Guuji Yae cannot see her within the hour, she'll make arrangements to have Sara escorted home.
Sara lies back down and considers how unlikely it is that it's still correct to call the Kujou Clan's estate her home.
Guuji Yae appears just before the hour is out, perfect and untouchable, with a look of benevolent exasperation on her face. "Miyuki tells me you were making her life difficult, General," she says, sitting daintily in the chair next to Sara's bed.
"Is it appropriate to call me 'general' any longer?" Sara asks, feeling a sting at the title. If the Kujou Clan is still in charge of the Tenryou Commission, surely Takayuki won't have permitted her to keep it; if it is not, then surely no Kujou still holds any rank.
"Why not? You are Ei's favorite general these days. I don't think anyone would dare to demote you."
"Oh," Sara says, feeling an inner tension release, only to be replaced by the floating cloud of confusion. She shoves it away. If she still holds the rank, then she has responsibilities that come with it. "What is the state of the Tenryou Commission? What judgment has the Almighty Shogun passed upon the Kujou Clan?"
"Ei has decided not to pass any judgment of yet. Except on Kujou Takayuki, of course. He's no longer the head of the Kujou Clan, and good riddance. I regret ever giving that man any kind of advantage."
"I understand," Sara says, not sure why she feels like there's been a weight lifted off her chest. "The Almighty Shogun is benevolent and merciful."
"Hehe, we'll see how that turns out. But in the meantime, when we're ready to let you go you'll be reporting in to that younger son, Kujou Kamaji. If you think you can still serve the Tenryou Commission after all of this, that is."
Sara's shoulders stiffen, and she pushes herself up on her elbow. "Is there a chance I won't recover?"
"Oh, no, not at all. You'll be fine in a few more days," Guuji Yae says with a dismissive little wave. "I meant being betrayed like that by the man who took you in. If you wanted to give up on humans and run off back to the mountains, I can't imagine any tengu clan would refuse a warrior like you."
The thought of being flung into tengu society, as alien to her now as any society at all was when she fell from that cliff all those years ago, gives Sara the same sickening sense of free-fall. It's almost as terrifying as the thought of leaving the Shogun's service. She swallows hard, trying to fight back nausea as another reason for the Guuji's suggestion occurs to her.
"Does- does the Almighty Shogun wish me to resign?"
"I just said you were her favorite general these days, didn't I?" Guuji Yae sounds exasperated, but there's a pleased smile hovering around the edges of her mouth. "I don't think Ei realizes how rare your kind of loyalty is, but don't worry, she does have some idea of its value. I just wanted to make sure you'd stay in the Tenryou Commission."
"I owe the Kujou Clan and the Tenryou Commission for my life, my training, and the opportunity I've been given to serve the Almighty Shogun. So long as the Shogun allows it, I will maintain my post."
"Are you sure it's the clan and commission you should be grateful to for all of that?" Guuji Yae puts a hand to her mouth, looking at Sara with a gleam in her eyes that Sara doesn't know how to interpret.
"You're right," Sara says, because it does remind her of the blessing that had led to all of that, one she's mortified to have forgotten. "I'm grateful first and foremost to the Almighty Shogun, for granting me my Vision and the chance it gave me to survive and serve her. My gratitude to the Tenryou Commission and Kujou Takayuki should only be counted a distant second."
The Guuji laughs, soft and sparkling, behind her hand. "Well, you really are still loyal to Ei, and that's what matters. I suppose putting you in Kujou Takayuki's hands wasn't a complete waste after all. Though I do wonder how you might have turned out with someone a little more worthy of that gratitude."
Even knowing what Takayuki had done, the insult still makes her stiffen. A sharp ache runs through her damaged wings as they start to spread behind her and then hit the limits of their bandages. She frowns up at the Guuji.
"He may have failed to live up to the values he taught me, but I still learned my reverence for the Almighty Shogun from him. My gratitude is not unearned."
"If you say so," Guuji Yae says, with a careless little wave of her hand. "I suppose you'd like to know that the Vision Hunt Decree has been rescinded and the resistance has agreed to a cease-fire. I'm sure you'll end up involved in sorting all of that out. Ei's certainly not going to get up and do it herself."
"It's not something the Almighty Shogun should have to concern herself with personally," Sara agrees, relief washing over her at the thought of that grinding, terrible conflict at last at an end. "I will serve in any way I can."
"Yes, you've made that clear. I'm sure Miyuki wants me to remind you that to do that, you have to rest and heal, so do try to listen to her." Guuji Yae rises from her chair. "And please don't throw any more fits for my attention. It's cute once, but it gets dull very quickly."
"I wasn't-" She's gone before Sara can finish her protest, the door swinging closed behind her.
Sara lowers herself back down onto her side and sighs. There's a confusing tangle of emotions in her chest, relief and pride and frustration and an inexplicable sorrow. It's only just that Takayuki be punished, and that the truly loyal feel disgust for what he's done, and yet--she's still intensely aware of just how much she owes him. She would never have been able to enter the Shogun's service if he hadn't taken her in. That discontinuity eats at her through the day and long into the night.
***
Despite the Guuji's reassurances, Sara still returns to the Tenryou Commission with a tightness across her shoulders that locks her folded wings against her back. Many soldiers look at her warily, as they should after she'd vented her rage at Takayuki upon her own troops. The older retainers of the Kujou Clan look at her with disdain and dislike. More of both than they had shown her even in her childhood, before she'd proven herself of value.
Takayuki, she is very aware, would have disowned her for what he seemed to so delusionally consider a betrayal of the clan. She has no guarantee that Kamaji won't do the same. To do so wouldn't mean expelling her from the Tenryou Commission, so long as he left Sara her rank, and surely he knows that she would not abandon her duties because of it. If he does, Sara vows to herself, she'll accept it stoically and continue to carry out her responsibilities in the Raiden Shogun's service.
But Kamaji rises when she enters his office, Takayuki's old office, which the soldiers at the door had bowed her into without pause. He smiles at her with an expression she can only read as relieved, looking pleased to see her in a way no one else had. Sara feels a brief odd tightness in her chest at the sight.
"Sara," he says, taking a step towards her and holding out his hands in welcome. Sara almost doesn't recognize the gesture; she's never been welcomed to the Commission offices by anything but a dutiful salute from her subordinates. "You look well. I'm glad that you've recovered."
Sara nods to him. "I'm at your service. What duties do you have for me?"
His hands fall to his sides, and he looks sad, just for a moment, then solemn. "You're right, there's so much to be sorted out. We've begun withdrawing from the front lines, but you know better than anyone not implicated in Father's conspiracy where the soldiers should be redistributed to now that we're no longer on a war footing. I have the most recent reports."
As he takes his seat again, he gestures to another chair beside the desk. Sara sits as commanded, strange as it feels to do anything but stand to attention in this office, and reaches for the report that he hands to her.
Kamaji is struggling at this because many of his retainers, the same ones who glare at Sara when they think she isn't looking, are deliberately making it as hard as they can. They may not have been directly involved in Takayuki's misdoings, but they aren't pleased to see him forced to step aside. It's cruel and petty of them to take it out on Kamaji, and Sara is disgusted by their behavior, but there's nothing that she can do except give Kamaji her best in order to balance them out.
Three days into the work a new set of reports arrives from Masahito. Kamaji sets aside his current paperwork to read them, and is less than halfway through when he makes a small sound, almost distressed, and sets the paper down. When Sara looks up she can see that the report is written in Masahito's own hand.
"What's wrong?" Visions of ill soldiers flash through her mind. She can recall all too well how the troops had been suffering in Kannazuka as the war ground on, despite Masahito's best efforts to protect them from the curse upon the land.
"Masahito's uncovered something... unpleasant. The samurai that Father sent to investigate that Tatarigami superstition he was so concerned about had additional orders. They," he pauses and takes a deep breath, looking down, "were killing civilian refugees and blaming it on the resistance."
A cold weight settles in Sara's stomach. Her own soldiers had reported such murdered civilians to her. Sara had utilized that grisly crime to rally her troops as the Tatarigami's effects ate at morale, knowing it was propaganda but believing that what she told them was true. She wishes she could say she was surprised. But Takayuki has told her more than once over the years that all strategies, however dishonorable, were justified if they served the Shogun's ideals.
His ideals in this had not been the Shogun's, but she can still remember how he'd ranted, swearing that his machinations served the Shogun's goals. That would have been close enough for him.
Kamaji goes on, still subdued. "They went mad in the end, and died horribly. Some of Masahito's scouts found their last written reports, and some of their remains. Either they knew how depraved their actions were and despaired, or the Tatarigami Masahito was concerned about was real."
"Of course it was real," Sara says, surprised that Kamaji hadn't known. "Takayuki wanted us to quash the rumors for the sake of morale, so that panic wouldn't spread among the troops. He wouldn't have sent samurai to investigate-" She stops there, another cold lurch in her gut. "Except that he sent them to kill civilians. The investigation was only a cover."
"If he believed in it at all, he underestimated it," Kamaji says, and Sara nods, because the fate of his samurai is proof enough of that. "He should have listened to Masahito."
"Masahito wanted to withdraw our troops from the area, and Takayuki would never cede ground." Sara feels guilt surge sour up her throat. "I should have written my own letters to back up Masahito, but I was certain that Takayuki wouldn't listen. And proud that I didn't complain, when my pride shouldn't have mattered compared to the lives lost."
Kamaji glances at her, then away, a shadow almost like guilt passing over his face as he turns his gaze back down to the papers before him. "You're right, though. He wouldn't have listened to you, either. I'm the only one who wouldn't have been scolded for speaking up."
"You didn't have our military experience or knowledge of the terrain. He would have dismissed you too."
"But he wouldn't have threatened to punish me," Kamaji says.
Which is true, though Sara's never heard him acknowledge it out loud before. She can't say it wouldn't have mattered. Especially if she'd thrown her weight in with Masahito as well, but Kamaji speaking alongside them would have made most of the difference. He was the only one of them Takayuki had ever been truly warm with.
There's a dull ache beneath Sara's breastbone that she doesn't care to acknowledge. "There's no way to change what happened. Better that we focus on the aftermath."
"Yes," Kamaji agrees, with a small sad sigh. "I'll write to Masahito and see if we can identify the civilians, so that we can honor them and compensate their families. It's the least the Kujou Clan can do. We can't repair all the harm Father did, but we have to acknowledge it."
There's something in those words, honest as they are, that makes Sara want to flinch away. She finds herself imagining scabs torn off, exposing the wounds beneath afresh. Justice may be righteous, but that doesn't make it any less painful. The state of their clan is proof enough of that.
***
It's a lovely autumn day, mild and crisp, with the domain in Araumi finally sealed and Inazuma quiet, at least for the moment. Tempted by the weather, Sara decides to check on the report of hitsukeban throwing firecrackers near the city herself just to get out of the office and stretch her legs. And, once she's out of the city limits and out of sight of any humans who might be disturbed by the sight, her wings. She justifies it as a prudent scouting method; humans rarely think to look up.
Naganohara does, though, when Sara clears a low cliff on the Byakko Plain and sees the firework-maker and the gaggle of children she's supervising as they shoot at an archery target set up at the cliff's base. Instead of recoiling, though, she simply smiles, wide and friendly, and waves.
Sara lands as fast as she can anyway, tucking her wings away and dropping as if she was plummeting for an attack, well away from the children. From the way they nudge and whisper to each other, some of them must have seen her in the air. At least this time they don't seem frightened.
"Naganohara." Sara rises and walks over, with a careful smile for the children. "Have you seen any hitsukeban about? A traveler reported hearing firecrackers nearby on their way into the city."
"Ahaha, that must've been us," Naganohara says, grinning sheepishly at her. "We haven't seen any hitsukeban, but we'd sound like we're setting off firecrackers, and we're not far from the road."
Looking around, Sara can see that Naganohara has chosen a good spot for such incendiary toys. The ground is mostly bare dirt, with no grass to catch flame, and it's far enough from the city that there wouldn't be any risk of building a burning down by accident. They're near the water's edge, for additional safety. In the same look, though, she can see that a few of the children have small, child-sized bows, and there's a pile of matching blunt arrows.
"It sounds like you're setting off firecrackers?"
"Look," a familiar voice says, and she recognizes the boy Souta at the edge of the group. He grabs an arrow, sets it to his undersized bow, and shoots, with absolutely no technique, at the archery target. By some miracle his arrow lands, grazing the bottom without sinking in. The target, shaken by the impact, releases a little bolt of colorful sparks from the top.
"The kids wanted me to show them how to shoot, and I thought I would make it more fun."
"If they want to train with the bow, isn't it more important to make sure they're shooting properly? He barely hit the target, and he had no form at all."
"Hey! He did his best, and that's what counts," Naganohara says firmly, as much to the boy, whose grin has vanished, as to Sara. "That was your best try yet, and I bet next time's gonna be even better."
"Provided you improve your form," Sara adds to him.
"He's working on it! You're fine, Souta," Naganohara says, flashing Sara a frown that turns immediately back to an encouraging grin when she turns to the boy. "Just remember what I showed you, and don't give up."
The boy nods and turns determinedly back to the target to make another, almost equally bad shot. Naganohara cheers when the firecracker mechanism in the target goes off. Then she takes a few steps back, beckoning to Sara.
Sara can sense that she's misstepped, though she's not entirely certain now. She joins Naganohara and lowers her voice. "How are they to improve if you don't correct them?"
"Practice," Naganohara says, and shrugs. "At this age, if you criticize them all the time, they'll just give up."
"I started training with the Kujou Clan's soldiers at their age, and I never gave up when criticized. However often I was scolded, it only make me determined to be better."
"With the soldiers?" Naganohara gives her an askance look. "They weren't actually treating you like a soldier in training, though, right? You were just a kid."
"Of course they did." Sara can hear a defensive brittleness in her voice, and deliberately moderates her tone. "That's what the clan head ordered them to do."
She can remember those orders all too clearly, the fury with which they were delivered, the fear on the faces of men who had been smiling and laughing only minutes before. The details of their faces are lost to her, this long after; she only vaguely recalls the bright red ball they'd brought for her to play with. And Takayuki, coldly angry, telling her in clear, harsh words what punishment she'd brought upon those soldiers for her own lack of martial discipline.
"Huh. That explains a lot," Naganohara says. "It's not a great way to teach a kid how to do things, though. Most of these kids will only stick with it if it's fun. When they get good enough that they start caring about how to get better, they'll ask, and I'll tell them. Right now it's just a game, and it's no fun if an adult tells them they're playing it wrong. It's okay if it takes them a while to get it right."
The thought of what Takayuki would say to that makes her want to flinch. As evenly as she can, she says, "Since they're civilian children, it doesn't matter."
"You know, some of them are samurai kids. See him, and her?" Naganohara points towards two children who are clearly performing better than the rest; the boy is showing another child how to hold their bow, while the girl is visibly showing off. "They've started training with their parents, but it's still a game for them, because that's the best way for them to learn. Maybe you were determined enough to keep working hard even when you were criticized, but that doesn't mean it's the right way to treat kids."
The urge to tell Naganohara that she doesn't know what she's talking about is strong. But it's a pointless argument to have with someone like her. And even in these few minutes that Sara has been watching, Souta has twice made better shots, turning to Naganohara for approval each time. A few of the others are working their way inwards no the target too. Their progress is wobbly and uneven, but they're putting in the effort with only cheering and encouragement to drive them.
Sara swallows against the growing lump in her throat. Naganohara hasn't said anything unkind, and there's no reason for her chest to squeeze like this at the sight of children having fun.
"I'll keep your advice in mind," she tells Naganohara, as foolish as she knows that sounds. No one is about to entrust Sara with a child. "I need to survey the rest of the area to confirm there aren't hitsukeban in hiding, but I'll make sure they don't trouble you and the children if there are."
Naganohara grins at her with the same brilliant warmth she shows the children. "I'll keep an eye out, just in case, but I'm not too worried if you're on patrol."
The offhanded compliment shouldn't make Sara's face hot, but it does. She nods to Naganohara, stone-faced to keep from betraying anything else, and then turns and starts for the cliff. It's always easier to get into the air with altitude, and as relaxed as the children were about her landing, she still doesn't want to frighten them. It would be unkind to ruin their fun.
***
After the setback at the peace talks, Sara returns to the Kujou encampment in Kannazuka to regroup before she reports back in person to the Almighty Shogun. She debriefs about the incident with Masahito, who will be first to encounter trouble if this turns back into conflict. He listens quietly to her in his office, then invites her to join him for dinner in his quarters. They share the same plain camp fare the troops eat, then rise together for Masahito's nightly walk of the defenses. Sara has always joined him for it when she's here.
"If you have any private messages for Kamaji, I can carry them for you," she tells him as they step out of the building. The night air, usually pleasantly mild this time of year, feels outright cool, and she shivers at the brush of the breeze. "I expect to report to him immediately after the Almighty Shogun, unless she tells me otherwise."
The ninjas of the Shuumatsuban and the agents of the resistance are omnipresent threats to private correspondence, but there is also, still, looming over all of them, the question of how many members of the Tenryou Commission are more loyal to Takayuki than to the Commission itself. Rooting them out won't be a swift process. In the meantime, they can't trust commission staff to carry their letters unread.
It's not a new situation for all three of them. Sara had learned very young that nothing she wrote down, nothing that might pass through a soldier's hands or under a servant's eye, would remain private. After the second time that Takayuki had scolded her for something she thought was secret, she had learned not to write down any thoughts she didn't want him to know and judge.
"Thank you," Masahito says, his low voice gone slightly rumbly the way it does when he's tipsy or tired. "He's probably tired of my advice by now, but it's good to have a clan head who actually listens."
Sara tenses against a flinch. From his tone, it wasn't meant as a rebuff, but she's reminded anew of the Tatarigami situation every time she passes through the camp.
"I think he appreciates it. He's not prepared for all aspects of being clan head. I've been handling most of the police and military operations of the Commission for him until he's ready to take command."
"You know, when I was young, I used to think he was clearly our father's favored heir, but I wonder about that now," Masahito says thoughtfully. "He could have been much better prepared."
"Takayuki must have thought he'd have more time to prepare him for the role." Sara can't disagree with the original premise. She'd always expected Takayuki to name Kamaji as his heir.
"A warrior should know that his time may come to an end on any given day, and prepare his life accordingly. He told me that, and I know that he told you." Masahito is frowning heavily when she glances over at him. "If Kamaji was fully trained, that good nature of his would have become a threat to our father's plans. We used to talk, you know, he and I. About what the Commission did, and when it wasn't right."
"I knew you talked," Sara says, her own cheeks burning as she remembers the way it had felt, in youth, to be rejected from those private conferences. "I never knew it was about Commission business."
"It never went anywhere, even when we knew we were right and he was wrong. We weren't brave enough to face him, but I'm sure his people overheard us now and then. If he'd prepared Kamaji the way he should have, it would've meant including him in clan business, and he must've thought Kamaji would spoil his plans. Instead it was you. He never would've expected it of you."
Masahito's hand falls heavy on her shoulder, and Sara stiffens beneath it, barely stopping herself before she shrugs it off. Her wings twitch with the urge to spread them wide, to mantle in warning against Masahito's unaccustomed familiarity, or even to leap into the sky and flee from this conversation.
She forces them still. "He betrayed the trust the Almighty Shogun placed in the Tenryou Commission, and dishonored the Kujou Clan with his deeds. That was intolerable."
"It was. But I didn't expect you to turn on him any more than he did. I'll give him this, he was good at making people believe what he wanted them to. He always knew the right move to break the other side's morale or strike conviction into our soldier's hearts. Whatever it took to do that."
The murdered refugees. Sara feels a familiar cold stabbing in her gut at even that oblique mention.
"And he knew how to divide and conquer. Whether it was his enemies or his own clan."
She understands what he's saying. When they'd competed as children on the training ground, she'd thought the resentment in Masahito's eyes whenever Takayuki praised her for surpassing him had been because she was a youkai, or because she was adopted, or maybe because she was a girl. She'd worked all the harder in the hope of proving that she was worthy of being part of the Kujou Clan, and that he, too, should be proud to have her in it.
Only once she'd grown old and strong enough to match him evenly and Takayuki had begun comparing both of them, frowning at her when Masahito outdid her in something and at Masahito when she outdid him, had Sara come to understand that it wasn't her race or status or gender that made him look at her that way. Takayuki's approval was a limited resource. Only one of them could earn it at a time.
That had always been the way things were. The way that Takayuki was, and that they therefore had to be. She'd never thought of it in strategic terms, because she'd never thought of herself as Takayuki's enemy.
Her eyes sting, and she blinks hard to force the feeling back. Masahito's hand is still on her shoulder. It's a soldierly squeeze, like she's seen her troops give each other on the battlefield. She was never allowed to have such close comrades under Takayuki's eye. But Masahito had gone out into the field years ago, instead of being kept, as Sara was, close at his left hand. She knows he's made comrades here. She's envied him for it.
"I did what my faith in the Shogun demanded I do," Sara says, because she doesn't know what else to say. Masahito's suggestion is like a huge shape looming in the dark beyond the torches, too difficult to look at directly. "He was the one who betrayed that faith."
"He wasn't a perfect strategist," Masahito says. He squeezes her shoulder tighter, briefly, then lets go.
Sara takes a deep breath of cool night air. The shape is still there, lurking in the darkness. But she can see how it fits into their lives, into the tense distance between them. Masahito is braver than her, able to look at it head-on. But this time no one is goading her to surpass him. She can approach at her own pace.
***
A statue of Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder securely wrapped and tucked under her arm, Sara makes her way up through Hanamizaka towards the Tenryou Commission. Normally she would have asked Shinobu to collect this for her so that she wouldn't have to leave her post early--and she can admit, if only to herself, as an excuse to see her only friend again--but Shinobu is attending to something with that Arataki Gang. As long as she keeps them out of trouble, Sara can't complain.
The Yae Publishing House's public storefront seems busier than usual when Sara climbs the stairs. A book signing, perhaps, or a standee of a character or well-known author. Sara edges her way around the outside of the crowd, hugging the statue carefully against her side to protect it from being jostled.
Someone emerges from the crowd, moving with such arrogant ease that people step aside for her without even realizing they're doing it. "Oh, hello," Guuji Yae says, greeting Sara with that careless smile. "I didn't expect to see you at today's signing. Is General Kujou by any chance a secret fan?"
"I don't have the time to read light novels. I'm only passing by on my way home."
"How disappointing. Are you sure you don't want to stay and buy a signed copy?"
"No, thank you, Lady Guuji." Sara keeps her voice level with effort. "I have a purchase I want to get home safely."
"Oh, is that so?"
Guuji Yae takes another step closer and reaches out towards the statue. Without thinking, Sara steps sideways and twists to put the package out of her reach. She realizes immediately that her reaction had been a mistake as Guuji Yae's ears prick with interest.
"Let me see," she says, tapping a finger against her chin. "The violet wrapping paper, the size and shape, the artisan's stamp on the packaging... I'm not surprised you collect Shogun dolls."
"This is not a doll. It's a statue of Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder. It is an object of fine art, and worthy of reverence. I would think you, of all people, would know better than to compare it to a children's toy."
"It it one of the limited-edition figures from the Saito Lacquerworks? I heard they were releasing a new batch today."
Sara draws herself up proudly. Despite the Guuji's tone, she has nothing to be embarrassed by. Owning a figurine like this is perfectly normal and common. Even Takayuki had approved of this expression of devotion.
"Yes. I ordered it several months ago, when they announced the upcoming sale, and have an altar prepared for it at home. Where I wish to take it without having it damaged in a crowd."
Guuji Yae ignores the hint. "Are you replacing an old one? The way you pester me about Ei, you can't have just gotten into the trend."
"Of course not," Sara says, affronted. "I have four already, from different lacquerworks. This will be my fifth. But I would never allow any of them to become damaged. I take great care with them all."
"Do you dress them up and do their hair?" The Guuji's smirk is almost infuriating on its own as the insinuation it accompanies.
"I care for them strictly according to the instructions provided. I polish them daily, except for the one from Tanaka Lacquerworks, which due to the unique nature of their lacquer technique-"
"Oh, never mind," Guuji Yae sighs, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm sure you follow the instructions exactly, and in the same order every time."
"Yes. That is the best way to establish a routine."
"Trust you to be boring even with a collection. At least you have one. If it weren't for the wings, I'd wonder if you even remembered you were a tengu. But even domesticated crows still collect shiny objects, it seems."
Sara isn't sure what to say to that. Collecting these statues had seemed a natural outgrowth of her devotion to the Almighty Shogun. The thought that it might instead be a youkai instinct is almost disturbing. She'd thought this a conscious, measured choice, a way to express her piety in a private and comfortable setting.
"And I can see why you'd pick those, besides your obsession with Ei," Guuji Yae goes on, blithe in the face of Sara's unsettled silence. "Knowing Takayuki, I suppose he didn't give you anything of your own that wasn't clothes or weapons. But he couldn't possibly take something so religiously significant away."
"He gave me my first such statue," Sara protests, going stiff at the pitying edge to that infuriatingly knowing tone. She makes the necessities Takayuki had provided for her sound like an insult.
"But how did he feel about the rest? No, I'm not willing to give that man any credit."
Before Sara can form an answer, Guuji Yae has turned away and is gone into the crowd. Sara takes a deep breath and carries on up the steps as quickly as she can without any risk of bumping into someone ahead. Whatever condescending comments the Guuji might have made, the figurine is far too precious to damage with such carelessness. It isn't merely part of a collection, it's an object of individual significance.
Guuji Yae's parting question lingers in her thoughts, though, as she unwraps it in the privacy of her quarters and sets it on its altar. Takayuki had frowned when she'd purchased the second one, telling her it was a frivolous use of her pay when she already had one figurine, and its care an extra draw upon her time. Sara had gone out of her way to ensure that the extra time she spent on each one as she obtained it didn't interfere with her duties, but that hadn't changed his disapproving frown.
He would have gotten rid of them if he could. Now that she knows he'd put the Kujou Clan before the Shogun's ideals, she's no longer blinded by her belief in his faith in the Shogun. If it hadn't been an expression of her devotion to the Almighty Shogun, if it wouldn't have looked impious to take or discard them, he would have removed them like anything else he deemed a distraction. They were the only safe objects she could collect.
Which doesn't change that they are also works of art and religious items worthy of her veneration. Sara's fondness for them, the pleasure she takes in them, her connection to the Almighty Shogun through them, hasn't changed. That these were permitted treasures only makes her treasure them the more.
***
The invitation to the Kamisato estate is entirely unexpected. Sara re-reads it twice, pricklingly aware of the Kamisato's housekeeper watching her, smiling, as she does. It was a friendly gesture to have him deliver it, she understands. His presence suggests some informality.
It's still political. Any interaction between the Kamisato Clan and the Kujou Clan is right now, or between the Kujou Clan and any major clan of the Tri-Commission. Their ultimate fate is not truly decided, only in abeyance. Uncertain whether this is a move in their favor or against them, Sara informs the housekeeper that she'll have to check her schedule before she sends her response.
Kamaji tells her he doesn't see why she shouldn't accept it, if she wants to go. Sara hesitates a while before conquering her trepidation and writing out her acceptance. She may not know Lady Kamisato's intentions, but she knows who must be truly behind this unexpected invitation. She trusts the traveler intended well when sharing what Sara had said in confidence.
When she arrives, Lady Kamisato corrects that misapprehension, her whole face bright with gentle amusement. "It was Paimon, actually. I was showing them my Go set, and she cried, 'this is the game Kujou Sara wants to play with you!' Now that things are more settled, I thought it would be pleasant to have someone over to play. My brother hasn't had time, and Thoma isn't truly a challenge. None of the servants are, though I think they may be too loyal not to let me win."
"I won't give you any less than my best," Sara promises her.
"I'm certain that you won't. Here, I've arranged for us to play inside, so we won't have so many distractions."
There are distractions aplenty in the estate's courtyard; the sea-breeze blowing through, the rustling branches of the trees scattered throughout, the guards and servants chatting quietly and happily with each other. Such chatter would have been grounds for discipline in the Kujou Clan estate, though Kamaji hasn't enforced that rule since he took power.
It's exactly as bright and welcoming as Sara had feared. She feels utterly out of place, a crow among songbirds. The inside of the house is no less discomfiting, filled with warm wood tones and colorful screens. At least the room that Lady Kamisato leads her to is subtly decorated, though the golden wood is still far brighter than the dark walls of the Kujou Clan estate.
A pot of tea awaits, gently steaming, and Lady Kamisato pours with perfect grace for both of them before kneeling on the far side of the goban. It's an old, splendid board, well-worn but still beautiful, the sides painted with scenes of waves and trees.
Sara has been given black, so she strikes first, beginning with a standard opening. The first few rounds pass quickly; they both know the same sequences and initial strategies. As play develops, though, Lady Kamisato begins to slow down, studying the board for longer and longer stretches before making each of her moves. Sara sits back on her heels and takes slow deep breaths while Lady Kamisato delays. She can hear laughter through the walls, now and then, and the shouts of children, and now and then Lord Kamisato speaking with their housekeeper, the words inaudible through the walls but the voices and their fond tones unmistakable. Every cheerful sound increases the sense of alienation, the feeling that she shouldn't be here in this place.
When she puts down her next stone, quick and precise in exactly the spot she's been eying throughout Lady Kamisato's dawdling turn, Lady Kamisato looks up at her and smiles. "You play very decisively."
"That's how I was taught me play. Go is training for battle, and you don't have time on the battlefield to hesitate over your decisions."
"My mother said I should always think through my moves before I made them," Lady Kamisato answers, looking back down at the board. Her voice has gone softer, fond in the same way as her brother's through the wall. "But she wasn't trying to teach me anything but how to play Go."
"You learned strategy somewhere."
"I think I learned most of that from my brother." Kamisato places her next stone and folds her hands in her lap as Sara places hers, examining the board closely. "Mother only taught Thoma and I after she became bedbound and I couldn't play more active games with her any longer, and by then she couldn't play well. We'd spend hours sitting over this board right here. She said it was a welcome distraction from her illness, but looking back now, I think it was because she was trying to spend as much time with me as she could."
No wonder she takes so long with her turns. Sara can forgive her those long delays if that's how she learned them. Takayuki had always timed her turns, the intervals growing shorter and shorter as her skills advanced, and he'd never played with her for so frivolous a reason as to spend time with her alone. As soon as she'd been strong enough in other areas, in martial prowess and lettering and discipline, to shadow his officers and learn strategy through more hands-on lessons, he'd stopped.
Sara has tried to keep in practice since, unwilling to neglect a hard-worn skill. Enough people in the Tenryou Commission also play that she's been able to avoid growing rusty. But she's not sure she can think of any partner she's ever had who played with her for the pleasure of her company, and not for the sake of the game.
"I'm sorry," Lady Kamisato says into the silence. "I shouldn't have brought up my mother's illness."
Sara abruptly realizes that Lady Kamisato has played her stone, and Sara had sat still and silent through it, lost in thought for too long. Takayuki would have stopped the game entirely and lectured her for inattention by now. She lays her next stone quickly, taking in the board in a glance and setting it down.
"No, death isn't a subject that bothers me. I was only lost in thought... I'm the one who should apologize. I'm afraid I'm not a very good conversationalist."
"You've done fine so far," Lady Kamisato says, not a single flicker of insincerity showing in her face despite the blatant lie.
"You said your brother doesn't have time to play with you now, but he taught you strategy. Did you often play together when you were younger?" Sara asks, desperate to find an entry point back into the conversation.
"As often as we could. I hope someday he'll be less busy, and we'll have the time to play again. Do you play with your brothers?"
"No. We were too close in ability to have learned from such a match, so Takayuki never had us play against each other. Only with experts whose style we could analyze afterward, when he had them available."
Lady Kamisato is looking at her with sorrow around her eyes, marring her smile. "You never played with them just for the pleasure of the game?"
"No. We were only taught for training purposes, and I don't know if either of them enjoy Go for its own sake."
"If they don't want to, you're welcome to visit and play with me any time. You're quite skilled, and I've enjoyed our time together." Lady Kamisato lays down a stone with the loud clack of a decisive move.
Sara looks down at the board and realizes that somewhere in the conversation, the balance of power has shifted. Her black had dominated the board for much of the game; now white holds sway. She can see the progression that had led here, looking back analytically as she'd been taught to do, and how it will advance forward. There aren't many options left to her. Lady Kamisato's strategy had been elegantly unexpected, taking her by surprise at a point too late to recover.
They play it out until the outcome is reduced to an inevitability, but Sara knows she's lost well before they begin totaling their points. Even here, in the calm cheer of the Kamisato household, she can't keep her shoulders from stiffening against a lecture that no one here would give. She resists the trained-in urge to examine the board closely, analyzing her own loss until she could explain it stone-by-stone. Instead she helps Lady Kamisato sort the stones back into the appropriate bowls.
"Thank you," she says when they're finished. "You're as skillful as I was told. This was a rewarding game."
"I'm glad." Lady Kamisato's smile is bright and warm in all the ways Sara doesn't know how to answer as she rises gracefully to her feet. "I mean the invitation. You're welcome to come and play with me whenever we're both free."
"Thank you," Sara says again, not sure what else to say. She wants to take her up on it, to watch her strategy more closely and match herself against it again, and again after that, until she can match the skill behind it. But she's not sure that she can bear to come back here to this warm, cheerful estate, with friendly conversation between moves and laughter heard through the walls.
Maybe Kamaji would play it with her, if she asked, though she couldn't impose on him when he has so many duties as clan head. He's too accomodating and eager to please. But Masahito isn't, and she remembers his hand on her shoulder and wonders if he would next time they're in the same place. If not for the game, then maybe for her company.
***
Anything the Doushin take as evidence is kept locked up until the case is over, which sometimes can take a very long time. But the case that Sara has been approached about is a straightforward one, and it had gone through the courts, quickly and briefly, over a month ago. The only reason a gang of teenagers cheating at onikabuto battles had been a crime at all was because they'd held the toys they won that way hostage to make children bring them money, and the court hadn't needed much dispute to determine them guilty of such petty extortion.
The evidence should have been released immediately after. Sara takes personal responsibility for the fact that it wasn't. That the oversight was due to the upheaval of uncovering and removing a senior Doushin involved in Takayuki's conspiracy only makes it more so. It doesn't matter that the evidence has little monetary value to its owners.
Its sentimental value becomes obvious as soon as Sara arrives at Naganohara Fireworks. Today is one of those rare perfect spring mornings, neither too cold nor too warm, the sakura trees just starting to bloom. A breeze just strong enough to be pleasant blows intermittently through the streets of Hanamizaka. Children gather around, shouting in delight as they dig through the evidence box for their own personal treasures.
"Thanks for getting their toys back to them," Naganohara says, watching the children with almost as much delight on her face as on theirs. "When I went up there last week, the guy at the desk brushed me off and said a box of toys wasn't important."
"If they valued them enough to steal from their parents to get them back, then clearly they were important," Sara says, frowning. "Do you remember that doushin's name?"
"I didn't get it. Don't worry about it, I know the police have had a lot going on. No one even came down to check the other day when I set off a firework just outside the shop by accident. Nothing caught on fire, don't worry," Naganohara adds quickly. "And I made sure to be careful with the rest."
"You are typically mindful of fire safety," Sara admits. "I'll let it pass this time, even though you confessed."
Naganohara laughs like that had been a joke. "Anyway, I could have made them new toys, but it wouldn't be the same, you know?"
"I don't know. I've never lost something I was so closely attached to." There's nothing she can recall being so attached to except for her statues and her mask. A few weapons, very early on in her training, but she'd learned swiftly that it was unwise to become attached to a tool. They had belonged to the Kujou Clan, in any case, not to her. "But it would be very difficult to endure if I did. I would replace them, of course, but I can see how it... wouldn't be the same."
"You must've been way better at keeping track of your toys than most kids. Though I'm not exactly surprised."
"I didn't have any toys," Sara corrects her.
Naganohara stares at her in disbelief. "What do you mean, you didn't have toys?"
"They would have interfered with training," Sara says. She feels herself go tense as Naganohara starts to frown, and hurries to explain. "I did have training equipment, and I kept lacquerware statues of Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder, to worship-"
Before she can finish clarifying, Souta comes running up, holding a colorful ball, and careens right into the wall, bouncing off it to stop himself. "Yoimiya! General Kujou! Come play with us!"
"Sure," Naganohara says cheerfully, pushing off from the wall. "What are we playing?"
"I can't," Sara says, taking an instinctive step back before catching herself. Her wings have started to flare, and she folds them in tight against her back, though thankfully the boy's wide-eyed stare doesn't seem fearful at all.
"Why not?"
"I don't know the rules." It's the first thing she can think of to say that sounds at all reasonable.
"You don't even know what we're playing yet," Naganohara laughs, shaking her head. Then she looks up at Sara's face, and whatever she sees there makes her sober and start to frown. "...Let me guess. You don't know the rules to any ball games."
"No. I've only ever played one once, and... I don't recall anything about it." Except how it had ended.
"We could teach you," Naganohara offers.
"I," and Sara pauses, torn between fear and desire. She'd like to learn, but she can't shake the irrational alarm that the thought of playing with these children rouses. No one is going to punish them for her choices. That doesn't ease the tension thrumming through her. "I'm not prepared for that today."
"Maybe next time, then?" Naganohara's grin is a little gentler than usual, and Sara knows that it's meant to be--but it doesn't feel like pity, doesn't have that condescending burn. "Sorry, Souta, I think the General's probably got work to do. I'll come play in just a minute, but I've got to give her a reward before she leaves."
"Okay," Souta says, accepting this explanation at face value, and goes rushing back off to his friends.
"I didn't do this for a reward," Sara protests.
"Yeah, but I bet the kids would agree you should get one anyway." Naganohara doesn't wait for her answer, just ducks into her shop. Before Sara can make her escape, she's back, something small and gleaming in her hand. "This isn't anything fancy, but you might have fun with it. I call it the Solo top, because you can play with it on your own."
"The Solo top," Sara echoes, letting Naganohara deposit the toy into her palm. It's little wooden cube with one end brought to a point and a handle on the other, an attractive shade of deep violet with intricate designs graven into each side and painted contrasting colors. "How is it used?"
"You spin it, using the handle, and see how long it keeps going before it falls over. Or draw a circle on the ground or table and try to control the spin so that it'll stay inside it. The kids like to try and make predictions or wishes with it, too. Like, if it lands with this side up, I'll definitely get an extra sweet after dinner today."
"That sounds simple enough," Sara says. "Learning to spin it proficiently should be an interesting challenge. Thank you."
"I think you mean it should be fun," Naganohara says, grinning at her. "But you're welcome! And whenever you think you've trained up enough to play with the kids, you can always come by in your free time."
Sara pockets the top carefully, as if it was an important piece of evidence. The thought of 'training up' to something appeals to her. It makes her think of play as a skill she can acquire, instead of a failure of discipline.
It's not what Takayuki taught her. But Takayuki, heretical as the thought still feels, wasn't always right. And if he could be wrong about something so serious as his service to the Shogun, then he could be wrong about this, too. Maybe she can indulge herself now and then and still be a loyal and devoted servant to the Almighty Shogun.
"I will," she tells Naganohara. She says it as a promise, because her word is unbreakable, and everything she says is a promise. But this time it's a promise to herself.