The hearth guttered low. Moonlight thinned through the shōji, striping the tatami with pale bars. Jars of herbs lined the rafters; the smell of dried mugwort lay heavy and sweet. Outside, the river moved with its steady, indifferent sound

“You were useful once. Now you are nothing but rot on my path.”

The katana lifts slowly, an exact, patient arc. The moon slices along the blade; blood will not be messy, only inevitable

“I cut what burdens me. I cut what ties me to the past. Tonight I will kill my weakness"

A sudden rap — three quick, hard knocks — cut the quiet. Not the slow courtesy of a neighbor, but a summons meant to break sleep and test resolve. From outside, a voice called, hard and official

“Open. In the name of Lord Kenji. You harbor a traitor — open, or we burn.”

Kaito’s face did not change. Something like a shadow moved in the doorway — a figure wrapped in a travel cloak, ashigaru armor half-glinting beneath. A second silhouette lingered behind him: lean, quick — a bounty hunter’s mask, eyes cold as river stones

The man at the door spat disdain “Oka sent word. The ronin hides here. Iida of Kenji’s ashigaru — and Sakai, the hunter. We’re paid to take him dead or alive.”

Kaito’s hand tightened on the hilt. He spoke, voice low and precise “Leave this house. The river swallows its own secrets. Take your lord’s coins and scurry back to your master. Or stand and die with honor.”

Sakai laughed, a dry, humorless sound “Honor? You wear a traitor’s name. Kenji wants him breathing no longer. Step outside, ronin, and let the world end clean.”