Gorou didn't know how to respond—if he spoke, his voice would give him away.
This was too humiliating.
Washizu studied the silent "girl" before him and sighed.
Her attire didn't match the resistance or Tatarasuna's style—likely a foreign traveler or someone from Narukami Island. Those ears, though... they reminded him of that resistance general across the gorge.
But General Gorou was a man, and he had no sisters.
Just a coincidence, then.
"You should leave—"
Washizu had meant to urge Gorou to go, but halfway through his sentence, he froze, as if hearing something.
A moment later, he spoke again.
"Miss, the rain is cold. Come inside and rest."
His smile remained kind, but something about it had shifted—something sinister.
As a seasoned general and a canine with sharp instincts, Gorou sensed the malice instantly.
His ears, which had been pinned back nervously, shot upright. His hand instinctively reached for his bow—
"Damn it, I left it—"
Only to grasp empty air.
In his rush to change, he'd left everything with Bai Luo—his dagger, his bow, even his dignity.
"Miss, you'll catch a chill."
Washizu's expression grew increasingly unhinged, his once-friendly smile twisting into something grotesque.
The villagers, as if summoned by an unseen force, began closing in.
Danger.
Just as the situation teetered on the brink—
"Chief, it's time for your medicine."
A voice cut through the tension like ice water.
The villagers, including Washizu, jolted as if waking from a nightmare. Their eyes cleared.
Gorou turned to see a young man in healer's robes standing at the village entrance.
He pushed a small cart, its lone oil-paper umbrella shielding barrels of medicinal brew. Rain and sweat blurred together on his face, but his grip on the wobbling cart was firm.
"Y-Yasumoto..."
Washizu seemed to realize his own strangeness. He dropped his hoe and staggered back, refusing to meet Gorou's eyes, his breathing ragged.
The rain hid his expression.
"It's time for medicine. Everyone, line up."
Yasumoto shot Gorou a meaningful glance—Wait for me at the entrance—before distributing the "medicine."
The villagers, aware of their condition, drank without protest.
Only the worst-afflicted remained motionless, staring blankly at the sky until they vanished one night, never to return.
No one knew where they went.
Back when the village was healthier, Yasumoto's teacher had once followed one such victim.
She returned insane.
The chief locked her in the cellar to protect others.
She hadn't made a sound in days.
"Yasumoto... this medicine can cure us, right?"
Washizu stared at the sweet-smelling brew before asking quietly.
Yasumoto's hands paused briefly.
"Yes. It will."
Satisfied, Washizu downed the liquid in one gulp.
"Send that girl away. This place isn't safe."
After helping Yasumoto collect the empty bowls, Washizu murmured.
He knew—if not for Yasumoto's intervention, they would have...
Even he was slipping.
"Chief, are you still going to the shrine today?"
Yasumoto called after him.
"The wards are broken, but some power must remain. I have to try... or else—"
He didn't finish.
They'd all seen the Tatarigami's wrath.
Even Yasumoto's teacher had fallen to it. Now, their only hope lay with the capricious gods.
"Chief, look at this."
Yasumoto hesitated, then pulled a flyer from his robes.
It had been plastered on his door by Shogunate spies.
[To the residents: Do not panic. The Tenryou Commission's Takayuki, moved by your suffering, offers salvation. We will escort you safely off Yashiori Island. Those in urgent need, report to the Kujou forward camp immediately.]
Logically, Washizu should have been relieved.
But his face contorted with rage.
"The Shogunate and the resistance are the same—rotten to the core!"
Higi Village's ruin was their doing.
His people were just farmers. They only wanted to live. Was that so wrong?
Why should they pay for the sins of warmongers?
Noticing his own instability, Washizu forced calm—but the veins on his forehead betrayed his torment.
"Show them the flyers. If they want to leave... I won't stop them."
As chief, many decisions fell to him.
But this wasn't his call to make.
If the Shogunate truly offered mercy... perhaps some might survive.
He left the choice to his people.
Stay or go—he would neither hold nor chase them.
"Hey, Yasumoto... will you leave?"
As the young man gathered the flyers, Washizu asked quietly.
Yasumoto and his teacher, Naoko, weren't locals but wandering healers. They could have fled when the Tatarigami struck—no one would blame them.
Yet Naoko stayed.
Even if it killed her.
"I'm the only doctor left. Even if I'm not as skilled as Teacher... who isn't afraid to die?"
His words started brave but ended in a whisper.
"So... you're going too?"