Prince Hotaru listened closely, his imagination running wild as Jin shared her story. He was completely entranced, mouth agape, eyes flashing with excitement. He envisioned Susuka, with its giant boats that brought different people and cultures in from places unheard of. What a sight that would be! He only knew a handful of stories about the outside world from his tutor, Jumenkon, but it was still hard to believe there was more land, beyond Majima. His fascination then turned to Jin’s mother, who healed with plants and herbs, marveling at her resourcefulness. He imagined Jin’s father as a powerful warrior, one from a distant land, who could pick little Jin up as if she were a temari, brandishing a magnificent blade as the city’s protector. Hearing about her parents, it started to make sense how Jin was so clever with both swords and mind. Halfway through her storytelling there was a moment of unease, a silence, layered in something that the young prince couldn’t detect. Ishawari, however, sensed it; the part in her story that’s always left out, the part he never forces her to tell. Still, it felt good to hear her reminisce about her past, even if it also dug up things not worth remembering. He very much enjoyed her story, her fondness for her parents, and secretly envied the love they seemed to have for her. “Oah!” Prince Hotaru smiled, but it faded as he said, “Your parents remind me of my own.” [i]You must be strong, my son.[/i] The boy resisted his tears. He frowned, forcing a stern expression that he imagined Jin’s father had when confronting bandits trying to pillage their city. “Thank you for sharing, Ji-, Akemi-san.” Hotaru bowed, then turned to Ishawari, who finished eating. “Yes, thank you Akemi-san, for both the story and the meal! It was quite delicious today!” Ishawari said, picking a piece of burnt rice from his teeth. “The rice, well, it is what it is, but the fish! You’ve really come a long way! Was that freshly caught from-“ “Takumi-san!” Prince Hotaru crossed his arms. “Akemi-san was trusting enough to share her story, are you not trusting of us to listen to yours?” His fiery words caught Ishawari off guard; Empress Chigusa’s sternness, flashing in the young boy’s eyes. “Very well,” Ishawari sighed, clearing his throat after downing the rest of his tea, wishing it were rice wine instead, “My village was nothing like this. Here, people work hard, yes, but there’s freedom to be had. Laughter to be shared. A community. Uyoji, wasn’t this.” “Why?” Prince Hotaru asked, genuinely concerned. “Think of it like,” Ishawari searched his mind for a relatable comparison, a flowery one, “the royal army, how soldiers must work hard and train so they can protect the lands of Majima. Well, that’s no different than my village; Everyone who trains at Uyoji Villa is meant to become a great protector.” Prince Hotaru thought long and hard, gathering fragments from Jumenkon’s lectures. Nothing about an Uyoji Villa came to mind. “Where is your village? Is it along the coast like Susuka?” The Prince asked, visibly irritated at Ishawari’s vague description. Ishawari sighed again, loosening his guard just a little bit more. “Deeply south from the Emperor’s palace, on the highest snow caps of Najino Mountains. It’s said that Baijiro, The Diamond-Eyed Dragon’s Herald, carved out Uyoji Villa with just his spirit halberd.” “W,what?” He had the prince’s attention now. “He carved a village out from a mountain? Like clay? You’re lying, Takumi-san!” Ishawari insisted, grabbing one of his chop sticks, and slashed it through the air as if he were Baijiro himself. “This was when magic flowed freely throughout the realm, back when it existed in harmony with us and nature. That was over one hundred years ago, Han, before magic fled during the great wars, before your family, the Yomiyawa, united all banners under one. Uyoji Villa was meant to be a place where masters could meet between heaven and earth, to perfect their skills and become Saintly Grandmasters.” “Are you a Grandmaster?” Prince Hotaru’s eyes widened and Ishawari laughed. “No, no, far from it I’m afraid. My mother and father, now [i]they[/i] were Grandmasters. Mother Zia, the moon, and Father Ittosai, the sun. Together they were: ‘The Duo of the Evolving Eclipse,’ which, if you ask me, sounds like a cheesy kabuki play. Mother Zia was a force with the bow staff and Father Ittosai, an equal genius with the knife. I suppose that’s why they made me train with the spear, a combination of their mastery.” “Amazing, Takumi-san! You were raised by Grandmasters? They must’ve been strong!” [i]A memory flashed into his mind, quick as the blows that struck his temple, ribs, and legs. He stares up at his mother and father, hovering over him, daring him to stand. He doesn’t want to, but he knows if he doesn’t, the bow staff will come down harder, so he gets to his feet, only to fall, again and again.[/i] “Very much so.” Ishawari smiled, the kind of smile one trains to be a mask, hiding what shouldn’t be revealed. “They did their best, but I wasn’t... it wasn’t for me! Living up there in the mountains? How boring! So, I left to travel Majima on a grand adventure, where I met your father.” Prince Hotaru knew this part of the story all too well, and he smiled with pride, imagining his father fighting off ronin without fear. Ishawari smiled too, at the memory. Emperor Mifune was a healthy man back then, filled with life and excitement. The thrill for adventure spurred him on that wild tour across his lands, the same one his wife would scold him for until her dying days. His heart grew heavy as he reflected on the Emperor’s present condition, suffering within the lion’s den of the royal court. Ishawari wasn’t the only one troubled by this thought. Tears began to swell in Prince Hotaru’s eyes. [i]You must be strong, my son.[/i] “I CAN’T!” Hotaru cried, leaping into Jin’s arms. He wailed, trying to muffle the sound by burying his face into her shoulder, but the tide couldn't be held back any longer. “I’M NOT STRONG! I’M NOT STRONG! WHY DID I HAVE TO GO!? WHY!?” Ishawari‘s expression softened. He never felt so helpless, watching as the boy he’s sworn to protect is attacked by the phantoms of sorrow. He rose from his seat and knelt beside them, resting his hand on Prince Hotaru’s back, glancing at Jin with solemn eyes.