Chapter 209: Kamisato Ayato's Concerns
The Kamisato Estate stood far removed from Inazuma City.
As the cultural face of Inazuma and head of the Yashiro Commission, the Kamisato Clan was responsible for festivals, rituals, and all manner of ceremonial entertainment. So unlike the Kujou Clan of the Tenryou Commission, whose base was set within the city walls, the Kamisato residence was located at the foot of Mt. Yougou, a place chosen for its proximity to the Grand Narukami Shrine, where the most sacred rituals were decided upon.
Anyone wishing to visit the shrine would almost certainly pass by the Kamisato Estate first.
But today, Kamisato Ayato was not at his usual post overseeing commission affairs. Instead, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back at the cliff's edge just beyond his residence.
The mountains of Inazuma could hardly compare with the towering ranges of Liyue, but they had their own kind of wild beauty. Jagged cliffs and scattered islands jutted from the sea like the bones of ancient dragons, shaped by countless years of waves crashing against them.
From where he stood, looking southwest, Ayato could clearly see the Tenshukaku rising amidst a sea of cherry blossoms.
The Shogun's behavior had become increasingly erratic of late. Were it not for the divine might she displayed during the recent combat trials, Ayato might have suspected she had already been replaced by an imposter.
Meanwhile, the Kujou and Hiiragi Clans were growing more and more arrogant by the day. They no longer even bothered to hide their dealings with the Fatui.
The Yashiro Commission had submitted petition after petition—each one a carefully worded appeal delivered straight to Tenshukaku.
Yet not a single reply had come.
Ayato couldn't help but wonder if any of his messages had ever even reached the Shogun. Between the secretive Okuzumeshuu and the ever-watchful eyes of the Tenryou Commission stationed outside the Tenshukaku, there were too many chances for interference. If someone saw the seal of the Yashiro Commission, they might well tamper with it out of spite.
But as if that weren't enough, there was something troubling stirring in Yashiori Island too.
Shff—
A soft rustle of leaves broke the silence.
Kneeling behind Ayato was a man dressed as a fisherman.
His face looked worn, haggard, like one of the many refugees affected by the Tatarigami.
But the sharpness in his eyes told a different story—he was no common man.
"Well?" Ayato asked, still not turning around. His sleeves danced in the sea breeze, giving him an air of refined elegance.
Yet, his clenched fists betrayed his tension.
As head of the Kamisato Clan, Ayato knew better than anyone that true power meant never wearing one's emotions on their sleeve.
Unlike someone like Sangonomiya Kokomi, who often had to force herself into the role of a ruler, Ayato's poise came not from pressure, but from practice—and layers upon layers of calculated calm.
"We scoured the Kannazuka," the man began, his head slightly bowed. "Aside from a coded marker found near the Kujou Encampment, there was no trace of her."
Sayu was missing.
At first, everyone assumed she was up to her usual antics—dozing off somewhere in a hidden nook.
She was still just a child, after all, and her sleepy nature was well-known. It wasn't uncommon for her assignments to be adjusted for safety and simplicity.
Like this mission, for instance.
Given how dangerous the Tatarigami were on Yashiori Island, they'd stationed Sayu in the relatively unaffected areas of Kannazuka. It had seemed the safest option.
And true, she was prone to napping—but Sayu had never once been lazy about a direct order from Ayato.
If she were going to slack off, it would be after the mission was complete, never before.
Usually, once the job was done and time was running out, she'd roll her way back to the estate, just in time.
But this time...
She was truly missing.
"Did you check with the Kujou Encampment's commander?" Ayato asked calmly.
The Shuumatsuban was his own personal network of operatives—sending one of them directly into Kujou territory risked exposure. That he had taken such a gamble made one thing clear:
Sayu's disappearance was far more serious than anyone realized.
"We went under the guise of a Yashiro envoy. Unfortunately, there wasn't much information to gain," the man replied, hesitating slightly. "However…"
"Speak freely," Ayato said.
"According to the General at Kujou Encampment," the man in the fisherman's disguise began, "around the time Sayu was on assignment, their usual water source turned unbearably acidic. Strangely, the last sign she left behind was located somewhere upstream of that same water source. And... we found this."
He reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a withered blade of dry grass.
Ayato instantly recognized it.
It was a breathing tool—one of the specialized items used by the Shuumatsuban for stealth operations. When hiding underground, underwater, or beneath loose soil, this tube of grass allowed them to breathe while remaining unseen.
Among all the operatives in that area, the only one who would use such a tool in Kannazuka...
Was Sayu.
"My lord, this thing... smells rather odd," the man added hesitantly, watching as Ayato casually twirled the straw between his fingers.
There had been something inside the hollowed stem when they found it—some kind of residue. It looked like pulp or fruit flesh.
They had run out of leads, so their only option was to investigate the strange substance. After ensuring it was non-toxic, one of their poison-testers tasted it.
And then… well, then there was nothing.
Because what was a ninja?
Someone who endured what others could not.
Trained to withstand extreme heat, bitter cold, even pain itself—ninja were hardened against discomfort of any kind.
Unless, of course, it was truly unbearable.
The result?
That shriveled fruit pulp, nearly dried up from exposure, had managed to flatten their most seasoned poison-taster.
There was no trace of poison found in his system, and he eventually woke up... only to warn everyone in a grave voice:
"That fruit… is unbelievably sour. Whatever you do, don't eat it."
Some of the sharper operatives had already begun gathering the dried pulp, intending to research new weapons—or poisons—based on its effects.
But no one had identified the fruit yet.
Because frankly, no one had ever eaten anything so ferociously sour before.
"Sour, you say?" Ayato echoed.
At the mention, he reflexively brought the straw to his nose and gave it a gentle sniff.
Hm…
There was indeed a faintly sweet, fruity fragrance lingering in the fibers—an aroma far too natural for something like dry straw.
"Yes," the man confirmed. "The fruit flesh inside was painfully sour. We suspect it's what tainted the water at Kujou Encampment. Perhaps… Sayu was ambushed while hiding underwater and ended up ingesting some."
A solid deduction—especially coming from a ninja. With just a handful of scattered clues, he had pieced together a fairly plausible scenario.
But Ayato wasn't convinced.
"…That small amount of fruit pulp, enough to sour an entire mountain spring?"
He glanced again at the straw in his hand. It was barely the width of a chopstick. Even filled to the brim with fruit flesh, how much could it possibly contain?
And the springs used as military water sources were often vast in scale. Could such a tiny thing really have that much power?
"Absolutely," the man replied without hesitation.
Even the ninja in their unit most tolerant to sour flavors had nearly lost their minds when tasting the fruit in its dried state.
And that was after most of the acidity had already evaporated.
If one were to consume the fruit fresh…
Who knew what kind of overwhelming sourness lay within?
"Do you have more?" Ayato asked, handing the blade of straw back. "Bring me some. I'll try it myself."
The order came out smoothly, but the response it got was anything but calm.
The man's face paled immediately, a cold sweat forming on his brow.
He had just watched a fully trained poison-taster collapse from a sliver of dried pulp…
And now Lord Kamisato wanted to taste it himself?
. . . . .
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