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  “Oof!”

  Takeshi stumbled, dropping his weapon and landing flat on his backside. As he hit the ground, Imari's eyes widened. She had wanted to win but not quite that dramatically. She set aside her spear and rushed forward, kneeling in the dust beside him. “Takeshi, are you all right?”

  Takeshi coughed, struggling to regain his wind. The maroon edge of his sleeve caught his dark hair as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s all right, Homura-dono. I’m fine.”

  Imari stared at him for a few moments, but other than a few streaks of dirt on his kimono, he seemed none the worse for wear. Hopefully, his pride was the only thing she had wounded. “Are you sure?” She reached for his fallen spear, passing it back to him as he climbed to his feet. “I wasn’t trying to knock you back like that.”

  A smile brightened Takeshi’s serious face. He took the offered weapon and bowed. “I’m just glad we were using sparring weapons. Otherwise, I’d have been skewered.”

  Imari sighed in relief. She returned Takeshi’s bow and fell into a more casual pose. “Takeshi, you know I’d never stab you. But thanks for the practice.”

  “I’m not sure you needed it,” he said, straightening his clothes. “Why did you want to train with yari today, anyway? We could have been using daishō.”

  Imari retrieved her own weapon, folding the fingers of her right hand around the grip. “Spears are what our soldiers use. I won’t be much of a leader if I can’t fight with the same weapons as the people who follow me.” She grinned. “Besides, I like to stay on my toes. Beating you with a sword is too easy.”

  A blush spread across Takeshi’s cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess that means I’m on your good side again, huh?”

  With a soft sigh, Imari averted her eyes, staring at the rest of the barracks courtyard. None of the guards were about, but the privacy only unsettled her more. She and Takeshi had been close for years, but lately, it was hard to talk to him. The distance between them almost certainly had something to do with the abrupt end of their romantic relationship.

  Her father had approved of the match, and initially, so had she. Takeshi was her best friend, and he wasn’t half-bad to look at either, with his sturdy build and angular jaw. But the reality of being with him hadn’t lived up to the fantasy. Too often, she worried he was deferring to her wishes and ambitions in an effort to please her instead of being himself—and that wasn’t even getting into his maddening protective streak. He had become stiff, formal, and nearly intolerable to be around until she had called things off.

  “You were never on my bad side, Takeshi,” she said, adding a little reassurance to her voice. As often as he annoyed her, he was still her best friend.

  Takeshi seemed to understand what she wasn’t saying. He took a step back, giving her more space. “Of course not, Homura-dono.”

  “And stop calling me that when we’re alone,” Imari insisted with a friendly roll of her eyes. “Just because we aren’t engaged anymore doesn’t mean you can’t use my first name when no one else is around.”

  A brief look of hurt crossed Takeshi’s face, but he recovered quickly. “Sorry, Imari. It’s just hard when…” His voice trailed off abruptly, and he tilted his head to one side. “Wait, do you hear that?”

  At first, Imari could only hear the distant nickering of horses and the usual steady hum of people moving through the markets, but after a few moments, something caught her attention: raised voices. The decision to train in the courtyard of the guards’ quarters placed them not a dozen yards away from the plaza, with only one wall in between. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but the tones were clear. Blades were about to be drawn.

  “I’ll bet you twenty circles it’s Naoki causing trouble again,” Imari muttered. She placed her wooden spear next to the wall, electing to replace it with a real weapon just in case. She was partially responsible for dealing with any conflicts that arose in Mirai, especially petty squabbles not worth her father's attention.

  Takeshi followed her without being told. “I know better than to take that bet. I’m not made of money.”

  “What do you think set him off this time?”

  “Who knows? Someone probably looked at him funny. For a samurai, he doesn’t have much patience.”

  A sizable crowd had already gathered by the time Imari and Takeshi arrived at the small plaza at the city gates, but one tall woman stood out from the rest. She had planted herself in the middle of the ring of onlookers, her chin tilted at a proud angle. Her hair was a dark, striking red, piled on her head in a messy topknot, and her brown skin glistened in the sun. Her simple clothes of deep blue wrapped tight around her, but she had the lean muscles and powerful stance of a warrior. She also had two slashing, crescent-shaped scars across her left cheek, a somewhat recent looking injury that reminded Imari strangely of claw-marks.

  A samurai? Her eyes moved lower, to the daishō in the stranger’s belt. But what province is she from? The stitching on her clothes has seen better days. She’s not wearing the mon of her family or master. Without an emblem she can only be—

  “I already told you I was sorry,” the woman said, averting her eyes and lowering her head. Somehow, she managed to convey a sense of remorse without appearing entirely submissive. The line of her shoulders remained tense, as if she was still expecting a fight. “It was an accident. I didn’t see you passing by.”

  As Imari had suspected, Naoki stood on the other side of the open circle. “You bumped against my blade,” he sneered, his upturned nose wrinkling in clear distaste. “Your clanless sword shouldn’t have even been near it. I don’t want it dirtied.”

  The woman abandoned her attempts to be polite. She pursed her lips and let out a clear whistle. The silver noise fluttered through the air, and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Several let out gasps of fear and awe as an enormous white wolf padded up to the woman’s side.

  Although the wolf stood taller than a person’s shoulder, its body was all muscle and bone, and its muzzle was curled in a snarl even more frightening than Naoki’s. Imari’s breath caught in surprise and delight. The creature must be one of the yokai. No ordinary wolf could match that size and its face held a feral kind of intelligence.

  “I might be clanless, but I still have my honor.” The woman met Naoki’s gaze as the wolf hovered beside her, a silent white shadow. “Accept my apology, and Rin and I will leave you in peace.”

  Imari exchanged a nervous glance with Takeshi, and the expression on his face reflected her own worry. If this strange samurai really had bumped into Naoki’s sword, there was no way he would allow the slight to pass. Fights were common when a samurai’s weapon was involved.

  Takeshi stepped forward to settle the argument, but Imari stopped him with a soft shake of her head. She wanted to see the result of the duel. Naoki was an excellent swordsman, but she had a feeling he was going to lose—badly.

  “I don’t want your apology,” Naoki spat. He seemed wary of the spirit wolf, but it wasn’t enough to quell his pride. “I want your blood. Draw your sword, ronin.”

  The unsworn samurai’s hands bunched into fists, and her expression hardened. The wolf beside her growled, but she gave a soft shake of her head. “Please, don’t interfere, Rin. I can handle this myself.” At her request, the giant wolf sat on its haunches, still gazing at Naoki with slitted blue eyes. The strange woman’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight together. "If you're determined to fight, I'll defend my honor, but I did try to resolve this peacefully."

  Naoki reached to his hip, drawing his katana. “My name is Kato Naoki, samurai in the service of the great daimyo Homura. My sword is Ōkami-kiba, Wolf’s Tooth. I challenge you to a duel of retribution.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Imari couldn’t help but snort at the irony. Naoki’s sword-name seemed ridiculous, especially since there was a flesh-and-blood wolf sitting at his opponent’s feet. She could have sworn the white-furred beast huffed at the name.

 
The woman reached toward her obi. Sunlight glinted off metal as she drew the longer of her two swords. “My name is Iori Kaede.” She paused, deliberately leaving out the name of her master. “My sword is Mizu-no-Hamon, Blade that Ripples on Water.”

  Imari’s eyes widened. Sword-names were rare, and most samurai, let alone ronin, didn’t have named katana. She herself had chosen not to name her blades, although that was partially because she enjoyed a certain amount of versatility when selecting her weapons.

  “I accept your challenge, but you’re going to regret it.”

  Imari couldn’t be sure, she thought she saw the hint of a smile tug at the stranger’s mouth. Both bowed, Naoki reluctantly, and silence settled over the onlookers. Imari’s breath burned in her chest, and her eyes remained fixed on the mysterious woman’s blade as it hovered in the air. The stillness shattered as Naoki thrust his blade forward, aiming straight for Kaede’s throat.

  Kaede didn’t hesitate. Her katana flashed in a circle, knocking Naoki’s aside. Imari caught the slight widening of Naoki’s eyes when he realized he had missed, but he recovered quickly. He lunged again, grunting with rage as he tried to strike at her shoulder. Once again, the woman's blade slid along his, angling it away from her body. It slipped with a hiss of metal on metal.

  “Stop playing, clanless.” Naoki lunged again but not quickly enough. The woman grabbed his wrist with her free hand, catching him in mid-thrust. While he struggled, her katana sliced through the air. The blade never met flesh. Instead, she whipped it around, changing her grip, and jabbing the pommel directly into Naoki’s face. It met his nose with a sickening crack. He cried out, reeling back as blood poured down his chin.

  The woman let go of his wrist and stepped away, allowing him to keep his sword but remaining well out of reach. “First blood is mine.”

  “But…but you didn’t.” Naoki blubbered, sniffing to keep back the river of red.

  “Why should I waste my blade on you? I drew first blood. It doesn’t matter how I did it. Let me pass.”

  Naoki lifted his sword again, but the look in his eyes made Imari step forward. She had no doubt the strange woman would kill him if he continued to attack, and as much as she disliked Naoki, the waste of life seemed senseless.

  “Enough,” she said, passing her spear to Takeshi. He took it without question, although she didn’t miss the protective way he followed her into the ring.

  Naoki seemed to notice her presence for the first time. He straightened and sheathed his sword, bending into a deep bow. “Homura-dono, I didn’t know you were here. I was just—”

  Imari narrowed her eyes at him. “I saw what you were doing. We don’t fight strangers here, Kato-san, even ones who are rude to us. Mirai welcomes people from all provinces of the Empire, including those without allegiances. It’s why this city was built in the first place.”

  “But she bumped my blade, my lady! Saya-ate!”

  “No disrespect was intended. She apologized for bumping your sword. Accept it and move on.”

  Naoki grimaced and grunted, sniffing against the stream of blood, but eventually, he spat out an insincere, “I apologize. My conduct was unbecoming of a samurai in your presence.”

  Good enough. I won’t get anything more out of him until he’s had a chance to calm down. Satisfied, Imari turned to the stranger. Up close, she was surprised to realize the woman couldn’t be much older than twenty. From a distance, Imari had thought her to be a much more seasoned warrior, but the soft edges of her face gave her away. She is also remarkably…Beautiful? Perhaps. Or maybe striking is a better description.

  Imari realized that everyone was waiting for her to speak. She cleared her throat, trying to sound as official as possible. “Everyone is welcome in Mirai, stranger, but we don’t start fights without cause here.”

  “It wasn’t without cause. He challenged me.”

  Surprised by the woman’s boldness, Imari found herself intrigued instead of offended. She fought a smile as she shook her head. “And you bumped his sword. Regardless, I’m afraid you will have to come with me.”

  Imari saw the moment realization dawned on the woman's face. First, the stranger’s eyes darted toward the emblem on her training gear—a bronze hexagon, with a striking white yamayuri inside. Then, they flew up to the matching banners placed around the plaza, a whole fluttering field of lilies backed with bronze and red. Her expression shifted from surprise to panic before finally landing on guilt. "I apologize, my lady. I didn't know."

  Imari smiled. It wasn't the first time someone had taken a moment to place her. She could play the part of the aristocrat well enough, but most people didn't expect to see the lady of the house in dirty training clothes carrying a weapon, let alone missing a hand.

  "Don't worry about it," she said, in a slightly less formal voice meant to put the other woman at ease. "Come with me. I promise you won't be judged too harshly." She glanced over at the spirit wolf, who watched her warily. "If anything, I’m interested to find out why a wanderer with a spirit wolf as her companion has come to Mirai."

  Many travelers came to Mirai every day, but none had ever caused quite such a scene, or shown such an affinity for the yokai. Despite herself, Imari couldn't help being curious. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to find out more soon. If she could help me. She shook that thought away. It was too soon for such a request, and she still didn’t know enough about this mysterious stranger. First things first. I need to find out how much she really knows about the yokai.

  “Hibana-san, please take care of the crowd,” she said, gesturing at the curious onlookers. “I wish to speak to our new arrival alone.”

  Takeshi looked as though he wanted to protest, but under the power of her gaze, he bowed his head. “As you say, Homura-dono. Please, be safe.”

  “I always am.” Imari offered a smile before turning back to the woman she was truly interested in. “Iori Kaede, you and your wolf-clan companion will follow me.”

  Chapter Two

  KAEDE STUDIED THE DAIMYO’S castle from a distance, staring at the magnificent building in awe. Its white layers stretched up to the sky like a mountain shrouded in mist and the trim around each curved red rooftop glittered gold in the afternoon sun. She and Rin, led by Lady Homura, had already climbed a few levels up from the gates, but the castle stood even higher above the city. It was different from the castle she had once called home and certainly a large departure from the dense forests and oceans of tall grass she had traveled through over the past several weeks. Impressive though it was, the bustle of Mirai didn’t put her any more at ease. This city felt no safer than the abandoned countryside.

  Rin noticed her conflicted emotions. “I don’t like it,” the wolf growled. “This place smells like fire and smoke. Sweat. Too many humans.”

  Kaede aimed an apologetic glance at Lady Homura. Rin's voice hadn't been soft, and she could tell by the slight stiffening of their guide's shoulders the words had carried. Lady Homura turned toward her, looking intrigued instead of angry. Her dark eyes glittered and Kaede's stomach did a nervous flip.

  Come on, Kaede. Stop staring like an idiot! The last thing you want to do is offend the daimyo's daughter. Her entry into the city had already been messy enough, and she couldn’t afford to ruin her chances. She was an outcast, and if Mirai wouldn’t accept her, nowhere would. “Don’t talk like that, Rin. I think it’s amazing.”

  A smile crossed Lady Homura's face like a patch of light breaking through the clouds. “I’m glad you think so. My father built this castle himself. He built most of the city, in fact, with my grandfather’s blessing. It’s hard to believe, but when I was born, Mirai was mostly farm country.” She turned to Rin and gave a small bow. “I’m afraid it’s the factories on the eastern side of the city that are offending your nose, wolf-clan. Mirai is the most industrialized city in the Homura province, and ours is the fastest-growing province in the Empire.”

  Rin let out a low huff, but to Kaede’s relief, she didn’t continue complain
ing.

  “So, how did you come to travel with a wolf spirit, Iori-san?” Lady Homura asked. "We live in harmony with the spirits here in Mirai, but not many yokai are willing to travel among humans."

  Kaede grinned. She didn’t mind discussing Rin at all. “I’ve always liked the yokai, and they seem to like me, but Rin is special. She's my best friend." She reached out to pat Rin's neck, tangling her fingers in the wolf's thick fur. "I found her lost in the forest when I was a child. I kept her company until we found her pack again, and she’s been my friend ever since.”

  “The forest?” Lady Homura's dark eyes brightened a little. “Your accent sounds northern. Which province are you from? Aozora or Yukimura? Or perhaps one of the smaller ones?”

  Kaede averted her eyes as they continued walking. She felt guilty for lying, but it was a matter of self-preservation. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s acceptable to you, my lady.”

  “Of course.”

  They lapsed back into silence, and Kaede took the opportunity to study her escort more closely. At first, she had only noticed Lady Homura’s missing hand. It had been a struggle not to stare. But the longer Kaede looked, the more she saw aside from the obvious. Lady Homura was curvy and graceful, with fine pale skin and smooth black hair that lay over her shoulder in a braid like spilled wet ink. But Kaede remembered the confident way she had gripped the spear earlier as she strode into the circle of onlookers. This was no soft princess. To treat her as such would be a mistake. Despite her missing hand, she had the bearing and dress of a warrior. Perhaps this woman could even help her.

  “I’d like to apologize for earlier, my lady.” It galled her to apologize for a fight that wasn’t really her fault, but she needed all the allies she could get while she was on the run. “I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble.”

  To her surprise, Lady Homura laughed. “But trouble found you. I know the man you offended. He isn’t known for his patience or hospitality, especially with newcomers. Don’t take it personally.”