Akiko slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she registered was the soft crackle of a campfire nearby—close, just a few feet away. Gentle warmth touched her skin, carried not only by the fire but by a spring breeze that rustled the pine branches overhead. The leaves shimmered in shafts of early morning sunlight, dancing as though nothing in the world had changed. It was warmer than she expected. Too warm, almost—like the earth was trying to comfort her before she remembered why it shouldn't.
Slowly, as her senses returned, questions began to seep in—half-formed, sluggish, like fog creeping in over still water.
Why… why is she outside?
She looked down. Her body was wrapped in rough linen cloth—rags, really—the kind her retainers, her… family, had brought along for emergencies. Not her usual robes. Not anything a noblewoman would be caught dead in.
She lay on her back, the earth solid beneath her, the faint scent of damp pine clinging to her. Tilting her head upward, she tried to orient herself—only to find the world still slightly spinning. Above her, stretched between two trees, hung a makeshift clothesline.
Her eyes locked onto the garments dangling there.
Her robes.
Deep crimson stains bloomed across the pale fabric—huge, irregular blotches soaked through in places.
Blood.
The realization punched the air from her lungs. Her body reacted before her mind caught up—she sat bolt upright, heart racing.
Across the campfire, Yasuhiro and Tsukasa sat crouched, quietly skewering fish on long sticks. Two already sizzled beside the flames, their skins blistering in the heat.
They hadn't seen her stir—until now.
At first her retainers did not notice Akiko had woken up, not until she sat straight up.
"Lady Akiko! Are you okay?" Yasuhiro stood up— so fast he almost fell over forward. Tsukasa joined him, "Say something Lady Akiko", he sounded desperate, confused she said "uhm… good morning?" Followed by a very hesitant "Father, grandfather" She remembered to call them family, all for the sake of being safe.
Almost too hesitant to ask, the words spilled out of her mouth "What happened?".
Yasuhiro hesitated, his eyes drifting to the stained robes fluttering gently in the breeze. "You... you saved Tsukasa's life, my lady."
Akiko blinked. "I… what?"
"You moved faster than any of us," Tsukasa added, crouching slightly, voice low like he still hadn't fully processed it himself. "The fisherman swung his sword—straight for me—and you just… lunged at him."
Yasuhiro nodded slowly, still standing tall but visibly shaken. "You pulled out that little blade we hid in your sash. Drove it straight into his chest. The man didn't even scream."
Akiko's eyes widened, heart thumping. "I stabbed someone?"
"You didn't hesitate." Tsukasa's voice was almost admiring, though his brow was furrowed. "You acted on instinct. Then everything went still. The boat nearly flipped. You fell. You didn't wake up until now."
Yasuhiro added, more quietly, "We thought you were… slipping. You wouldn't respond. You wouldn't move. But you were breathing, so we waited. We didn't know what else to do."
Akiko slowly touched her chest, her heartbeat thrumming beneath her fingers.
"And the fisherman?" she asked, almost a whisper.
Yasuhiro looked away. "He didn't make it. You got him in the heart. He bled out almost instantly… in the boat."
Akiko swallowed. "Scroll? Did the scroll make it?"
Tsukasa nodded, reassuring. "It did"
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling, the fish hissing slightly over the flames.
"Rest for a while longer," Yasuhiro finally said, voice gently paternal. "We'll talk about where to go next once you've eaten."
What had they gotten into?
What had Sora gotten her into?
"Why?" Akiko asked, her voice barely audible over the soft crackle of the fire.
There was a tremble behind the word, but not the kind that invited comfort or answers—no, it was the kind that said don't tell me. The kind that barely held itself together.
Yasuhiro stood in silence for a moment, then slowly walked over to one of the wooden boxes stacked near the bags. He opened it, reached inside, and withdrew something long and slender.
An arrow.
"This is why, my lady."
He held it up, letting the morning light catch the fine carving along the shaft. His fingers moved absently—sliding across the fletching, tracing the smooth wood all the way to the hardened iron tip.
"Before we left the village, it was clear something was off. The way people watched us. The way they didn't speak. Like they already knew we were coming." He paused, weighing his words. "It's possible some of them are in the service of the Fujiwara. Or at least… not fond of our cause."
He looked up from the arrow, eyes searching hers.
"We crossed the river with the fisherman," Yasuhiro continued, holding the arrow aloft. "This was in one of his crates."
He stepped closer, turning the shaft in his fingers so that Akiko could see the markings etched near the fletching—subtle, but unmistakable.
"It's one of those arrows. The same kind the archer used—the one who tried to kill us. Fujiwara stock."
He let the words hang in the air, heavy.
"You must have noticed before any of us did… even before he reached for his sword."
Another pause.
"You reacted before anyone else could. Faster than I thought possible for someone of noble birth."
There was no judgment in his voice—only something like awe. And something heavier beneath it.
Yasuhiro's expression turned somber. "Lady Akiko… I am grateful. You saved Tsukasa. You did what none of us could have anticipated."
Then he stepped forward, as did Tsukasa. Without a word, they both dropped to their knees in front of her. The bows they offered were deep—too deep. The kind reserved for solemn vows or apologies that could never be undone.
"I am forever in your debt," Tsukasa said, his voice steady but low. "You risked yourself… and saved my life. I will devote the rest of it in service to you."
Akiko blinked, stunned.
A creeping heat spread up her cheeks, flushing her entire face.
What?
Sora did… what?
He saved Tsukasa's life…
In her body.
With her hands.
With her face.
He killed someone.
Was it all worth it?
This message—whatever it truly said, whatever weight it carried—was it worth this? Risking their lives… her life… his life?
He had done something she could never have done. Something terrifying. Something necessary.
Without him—without Sora—they would likely be dead already. Lost. Forgotten. Another nameless tragedy swallowed by time.
By history.
The very history that Sora loved so much.
And if their enemies were this desperate to stop them... if they had gone so far as to spill innocent blood to snuff out a simple scroll…
Then it must be important.
Important enough to kill for.
Important enough to die for.
It had to be delivered.
And quickly.
Akiko stood up, slow but firm, while Yasuhiro and Tsukasa remained on their knees.
"Rise," she said. "It is no sight for a father and grandfather to kneel before their own granddaughter."
A small smile crept to her lips—subtle, but real. There was steel behind it. Determination sharper than the kogatana Sora had wielded.
Yasuhiro and Tsukasa rose, moving toward her in concern.
"You shouldn't be standing yet, Lady Aki—"
"It's just Akiko now," she interrupted, her tone clear and final. "Or daughter. Or granddaughter."
The words caught them off guard. Both men blinked, unsure what to make of her sudden resolve.
But she didn't wait for approval.
"We must move. Faster than before. If they want this message destroyed so badly, then it's more important than any of us knew."
She turned slightly, scanning the clearing. "What did you do with the body? And the boat?"
Yasuhiro followed her gaze, then gestured toward the fire. "There, Akiko. Beneath it."
She stared at the flames. They danced over ash and embers, over something she didn't want to imagine. Her stomach twisted, her head clouded with a storm of emotions—panic, shame, disgust, confusion.
But beneath it all… resolve.
"Alright," she said after a long breath, her voice quiet but steady.
She stepped toward the clothesline, unhooked her blood-stained garments, and folded them with care before placing them in one of the travel bags.
"Get rid of the arrows. Any other belongings from the fisherman—burn them or sink them. Gather what we need. We leave as soon as we can."
And just like that, she was in motion.
The girl who woke up under trees, unsure of where she was or what had happened, was gone.
In her place stood someone ready to carry the weight of two lives—and one message that could change everything.
The sun hung high in the sky, a reminder that the coldness of spring mornings could vanish just as swiftly, giving way to heat that felt like summer. In this part of the world, one could experience winter and summer on the same day.
They had been walking for hours now, not a word spoken between them except for occasional directions—left, right, forward. The silence was heavy, thick with the weight of what had happened, but Akiko walked between Tsukasa and Yasuhiro, her body aching with every step, her mind wandering through the murky thoughts she had been trying to keep at bay.
The roasted fish they'd carried with them for the journey filled their stomachs, but not their souls. The river water sloshed in their leather flasks, the only liquid left to hydrate them.
Tree after tree passed, each one looking nearly the same as the last, until the path began to feel like wilderness again—untouched by man's hands. Yet, as the sun started to dip lower in the sky, a glimpse of life appeared before them.
A village. No—a city.
It lay nestled in a curve of the river, its buildings sprawling over the hills, far larger than any village they'd passed. Over a hundred homes, clustered in the familiar pattern of a busy trading place. The signs of commerce were everywhere—the sound of distant chatter, the creaking of carts, and the call of street vendors.
"Kameoka," Yasuhiro murmured under his breath.
"This city is officially no longer part of the Heian-kyō prefecture," he continued, his voice almost a sigh, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "We should be fine here. It's busy and notoriously indifferent to the Fujiwara's demands."
Akiko's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. The tension, which had wound itself into her bones, began to unwind. She hadn't realized how tight her body had been, how heavy her steps. She had kept strong, but it was becoming undeniable—her body ached, her feet screamed with each step, and her legs burned in protest.
This is Sora's exhaustion, she thought bitterly. I'm not used to this. His strength, his body...
She felt the strain of the journey was not hers alone anymore, but she also knew that Sora could not have taken the time to care for her—he was not accustomed to her body.
They continued forward, through the busy, bustling streets, but the tension remained. Yasuhiro and Tsukasa kept close to Akiko, vigilant, their eyes scanning every face, every alley, looking for any sign of danger. It wasn't safe, not yet, and they didn't let her out of their sight.
After a brief deliberation, they chose a brothel as their temporary sanctuary. It was less likely to attract attention, and they knew it would offer food and shelter for the night, even if it was unorthodox for a noble girl to stay in such a place.
The air inside was thick with incense, the low hum of conversations, and the scent of oil lamps mixed with perfume. The building was dimly lit, the atmosphere as unrefined as it was reassuring. It felt like a hiding place, far away from the prying eyes that had followed them so far.
The three of them walked through the halls with purpose, quickly scanning the rooms. Yasuhiro exchanged a few whispered words with the innkeeper, paying for a room in advance, with what Akiko could not see, and Tsukasa remained close to Akiko, his eyes constantly on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.
Once inside the room, the door was bolted securely, a wooden plank holding the sliding doors shut, the windows shut tight. Yasuhiro and Tsukasa set to work, securing the room further—barricading the door with a heavy dresser and moving a wooden beam across the window shutters. The futons, though humble, were spread out on the floor, and in an unspoken agreement, they all settled into the same room for the night.
It was unorthodox. A noblewoman, and two retainers, sleeping together in the same space. But there was no room for pride tonight. Akiko's safety came first.
As they settled in, Akiko could feel the exhaustion creeping in once more. She collapsed onto the futon, her body craving rest, but her mind still restless. Yasuhiro and Tsukasa, though clearly tired as well, sat by the door and watched over her, never straying far.
After a while, as the night drew closer, Akiko broke the silence, her voice low but firm. "We will leave at sunup. We're two days away from our destination, and we can't afford to stop now."
Yasuhiro gave her a sharp nod, his face grave. "We'll gather more food in the morning, perhaps some dried fish or herbs from the village market. We'll need to move swiftly and quietly."
Tsukasa's eyes gleamed in agreement. "Maybe we could take a boat upstream once we reach the riverbend. It would be faster, and we could avoid drawing attention."
Akiko nodded, considering his suggestion. "A boat would be helpful. We can't risk getting slowed down by too much baggage. We must travel light."
There was a moment of silence as they all absorbed the reality of what lay ahead. Two more days. The final leg of the journey. The finish line was in sight, but the danger hadn't passed. Not yet.
"We will need to be prepared," Akiko continued, standing and moving toward the bags. "We must be ready for anything. Tomorrow, we leave early. At dawn."
The tension in the room didn't quite fade, but Akiko felt a small flicker of hope. They were close. She had to believe that they could make it, that they could deliver the message, and that whatever this path led to, it would be worth it.
The fire that burned in her chest—spurred by Sora's strength and her own resolve—refused to let her go. It was their mission now. Together.
The dim light of the oil lamp flickered, casting shadows across the room as Akiko lay on the futon, her body finally surrendering to the weight of exhaustion. Her limbs ached, her mind fogged with the strain of the day. The soft rustling of fabric, the quiet murmur of Yasuhiro and Tsukasa's voices, drifted to her ears, but they felt distant, as though coming from far away.
Yasuhiro spoke in low tones, his voice serious as he discussed their plans for the following day. Tsukasa answered with a quiet nod, his eyes darting toward Akiko every so often, ensuring she was at ease.
Akiko turned her head slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she struggled to keep herself awake. The words they spoke floated over her, disconnected from her tired mind, their meaning slipping through her thoughts like water through her fingers. She tried to focus, to latch onto their conversation, but the heavy pull of sleep was stronger than her will to stay awake.
Her eyes traced the soft curves of the room, the wooden beams overhead, the delicate flicker of the flame in the lantern. The light played on the edges of her vision, blurring everything into a swirl of warm gold and soft shadows. She felt the cool, worn fabric of the futon against her skin, the slight chill in the air that hinted at the night's fall.
Tsukasa's voice was just audible as he spoke again, but Akiko's thoughts were already slowing, the words becoming little more than a hum. She felt her eyelids grow heavier, the sound of their conversation sinking deeper into the background, becoming a soft lullaby. The sharpness of her body's exhaustion was slowly replaced with a gentle, calming warmth.
Yasuhiro and Tsukasa, their voices now blending into the quiet hum of the room, seemed far away. Akiko's last thought before sleep overtook her was a simple one.
We must move at dawn.
And then, everything got silent.