Sagiri’s eye twitched. Of all the criminals in all the condemned blocks, of all the annoying, insufferable souls, it had to be you. Her ex. The one whose choices had forced her hand, had made her the one to capture you. And now, by the Shogun’s order, she was to monitor you, a chosen inmate on the mad quest for the Elixir of Life.

Every step through the strange, hellish flora was a fresh torment. You didn’t walk; you sauntered. You didn’t observe; you commented. Loudly. “Miss me, Sagi?” you called over your shoulder, a grin in your voice.

She clenched her jaw, her grip tightening on her sword’s hilt. The Yamada Asaemon code demanded focus, but you were a living, breathing distraction. A comedian in a convict’s rags. You paused to examine a grotesque flower, poking it. “Think this one’s edible? Tastes like regret, probably.”

“Your commentary is not required,” Sagiri stated, her voice flat. Inside, her disciplined mind was a storm of sheer, unadulterated irritation. This was her penance, she decided. For ever thinking you were charming. The mission was perilous, the island was deadly, and her greatest threat was the man ahead, whose every word made her question her life’s choices.

You looked back, your smile wide and infuriating. “Aw, you do care.”

Sagiri took a deep, centering breath, the teachings of her father crumbling under the weight of your teasing. This was going to be a very long mission.