Lady Hiyokura sat in her husband's old council chamber, now hers by silence and inheritance. The lacquered floors reflected the dim firelight of incense braziers, and the carved dragon pillars loomed in watch.
She was not dressed for mourning anymore silk robes the color of fresh blood, hair bound high with silver pins shaped like lightning bolts.
Before her, two advisors knelt, heads bowed, scrolls in their hands.
The first advisor, Minister Gensa, rose on one knee and bowed.
"My lady," he said. "Our scouts trailing the Uchiha strike force have returned. The Chinoike survivors have fled south, beyond Lightning borders. Their last confirmed location… the valleys between our land and the Land of Hot Water."
He placed the scroll before her, sealed with ash wax.
Hiyokura broke it, eyes scanning the contents.
"Two hundred remain?" she asked, almost idly.
"One hundred eighty-more, my lady. They are scattered, weakened. No immediate threat."
She nodded faintly, lips curving.
The second advisor stepped forward. His name was Kaoru, younger than Gensa, his hands trembling slightly as he unrolled his own parchment.
"There is… another matter, Lady Hiyokura. Reports of the Kaza Clan, wandering steel-workers and poisoners, have surfaced. It is believed they maintain distant ties to Chinoike exiles."
Hiyokura didn't look up.
"How many?"
"One hundred and twelve at most. Nomads. Camped along the southern riverbanks."
She lifted her gaze then, eyes sharp as drawn steel.
"One hundred. Wandering smiths."
She leaned back slightly, as if considering.
"And you bring this to me as though it matters."
Kaoru faltered. "My lady, the Kaza are known to forge weapons with bloodline-reactive metals. If they-"
"If they mattered," Hiyokura cut him off, her tone smooth as silk sliding over a blade, "we would already have their heads mounted on the palace gate."
Kaoru lowered his head at once.
Hiyokura let the scroll fall to the floor.
The chamber doors burst open.
Two armored samurai stepped inside, the storm's wind curling in around their lacquered armor.
The elder of the two knelt immediately, helmet tucked under one arm.
"My lady."
Hiyokura's eyes flicked to him, calm, cold.
"Speak."
"The concubine Lady Asami-"
Hiyokura's fingers stilled where they rested on her lap.
"Is missing."
The chamber fell into a silence.
Kaoru and Gensa exchanged a single glance.
Hiyokura rose, every movement deliberate, like a blade leaving its scabbard.
"Missing?"
"We believe she escaped last night. There are… footprints beyond her quarters. They lead down the servant passages. The outer gate guard was… drugged."
Hiyokura turned to Gensa, her voice quiet, controlled in a way that frightened even him.
"How long?"
"3 hours, perhaps less, my lady," Gensa answered softly.
Hiyokura crossed to the window, her silhouette framed against the flashes of distant lightning.
"Send riders to every road leading south west," she said.
Her voice never rose.
"Any traveler without papers is to be seized. If they resist, they are to be killed."
She looked back, her eyes glinting like stormlight on steel.
"And send a hawk to the Uchiha."
A thin smile curved her lips, one that held no warmth.
"Tell them… one last Chinoike remains in my court."
.
6 hour's before.
.
Lady Asame walked barefoot, silken robes gathered in one hand, her other arm steadying herself against the wall. Advisor Gensa moved ahead, his lantern shuttered so that only a slit of orange guided their steps.
"Keep close," Gensa whispered. "Guards changed rotation less than a bell ago. We have one path."
They moved through the servants' halls, narrow spaces meant for ash-collectors and kitchen girls, not the concubine of a Daimyō. Dust clung to Asame's sleeves. The air tasted of ink and mildew. Every step felt louder than it should.
When they reached the supply courtyard, the smell of steel and oil lingered. Four men were at work beside a wagon stacked with bundled crates, katanas packed tight in straw wrappings. Their voices were low, accents rougher than court speech.
"Kaza," Gensa said, stepping into the lantern light. "You leave before dawn, yes?"
One of the men a broad-shouldered figure with hair tied in a rough knot looked up. His eyes, sharp as chisels, slid to Asame. "We do. The border watch grows stricter. No profit in staying."
"You will take her," Gensa said simply.
The man's brow twitched. The others muttered. One spat into the dirt.
"She's marked," he said flatly. "Every patrol in Lightning knows her face."
Gensa's reply was measured, but hard. "You carry steel north. Add one more blade to the load. Wrapped in cloth, kept quiet. Without her, you will not pass the eastern gate by morning."
That gave them pause.
Finally, the broad-shouldered one jerked his chin at the wagon. "Under tarp. Stay low. If she breathes too loud, we cut her throat before the watch does."
No thanks were exchanged.
Gensa turned to her. In the faint lantern glow, his face looked older than she remembered. "You will go to sea. Land of Iron. They will hide you until I can send word." He pressed a small pouch into her hand, sealed with a wax mark she didn't recognize. "Do not break this seal unless you stand among allies."
Asame swallowed, then lowered herself onto the wagon, slipping between crates of katana sheathed in straw. The smell of oiled steel pressed close around her. The Kaza pulled a tarp over her, shutting out the lantern light.
Through the folds of fabric, she heard Gensa's final words.
"You were not meant to die in this castle, Lady Asame. Live… for what comes next."
The wagon creaked. The courtyard gate groaned open.
As the wheels began to roll, Asame drew her knees close, breath tight in her chest. A stab of pressure twisted her stomach. She pressed a hand to herself, beneath her robe, where life stirred fragile and hidden.