Ishawari momentarily glanced at Jin, who was shimmering in sweat. The room suddenly felt hot. The two had always kept things fairly professional, but here, away from strict royal guidelines, it was almost as if he were looking at her for the first time. Even more so without their regulation attire on. He cleared his throat, focusing more on her summary of today’s events. He acknowledged everything she said with a nod, twirling a loose strand from the unkept mustache of his beard. He thought about the prospect of returning to Hanowa village.

“With the Gods’ permission, I wouldn’t mind coming back. There’s something about this place, isn’t there? Their hospitality has been overwhelmingly...refreshing. To be so genuine without knowing who we truly are, who the boy really is? I am just glad he’s able to experience a place like this, with us.” His gaze fell back onto the sleeping child, remembering when he was just a babe, then wondered what kind of man he’d grow up to be, Gods’ permitting his survival. He frowned at that last thought, shaking his head in protest for allowing doubt to enter his mind. [i]Prince Hotaru will endure this. He will come back to reclaim this realm. We will make sure of that. One step at a time, we will make it so.
[/i]

He recalls the night before their escape, when the Emperor summoned the pair to his chambers. Their lord forced them to commit his poem to memory, commenting on small details here and there, but was otherwise tightlipped about the whole ordeal. Who were they to press the Emperor of Majima, but looking back on it now, Ishawari wished he lacked such decorum. What they did know was that the secret talisman hidden in Prince Hotaru’s possession was key for discerning who to trust. The simple wooden carving of a nightingale is absent of jewels or royal bluster, fashioned on the boy as a necklace. When presented, agents will recite the specific line of the poem they’re currently on, and heading to next. 

“Five days...” Ishawari said, reciting the first two lines of the poem in his head, ”Then the Ferryman will take us to the Smiling Monk. I’m not sure what aggravates me more: This quiet refuge without a hint of an assassin’s lure, or the obscurity of this poem. At least Daigo’s timely escort proves its authenticity, but I wish we were filled in on the details, especially whoever this Mentor is.”