She danced with swords in her hands.
They watched her like a kingdom they all wanted to conquer.
⸻
I didn't wear a kimono.
I knew I should have—especially tonight, when Saitō Dōsan's castle was about to be flooded with silk, gold, and steel—but I couldn't. I wouldn't.
Instead, I wore a white empire-cut gown, tailored by our seamstress to mimic the one in my memories. If they were even real.
Pearl-beaded bodice. Long train of white lace.
A dress that didn't belong in this era.
But then again... neither did I.
⸻
The gates opened.
One by one, the warlords arrived.
Takeda. Uesugi. Hōjō. Shimazu. Mori.
The names hit me like thunderclaps—too loud, too clear.
I knew them.
Not vaguely.
Intimately. Strategically. Historically.
Allies. Enemies. Betrayals. Wars.
A flood of knowledge poured into me—unbidden, unprovoked.
As if some hidden door had been cracked open the moment I heard those names.
But how?
I didn't even know my own name.
And yet here I stood, bowing beside a man I met yesterday, while ancient clans marched through the gates of a castle I'd never seen before today—
—and my mind whispered their sins like lullabies.
Each of them expected a grand hall to greet their arrival.
A feast. Flattery. Tribute.
Instead, they found us.
Dōsan and I, standing at the gates like humble hosts.
I bowed low.
Too low.
Too early.
The movement was clumsy—just enough to make them pause.
Their eyes scanned me.
Curious. Cold. Calculating.
They didn't know what to make of me.
Neither did I.
I was a ghost in someone else's story.
Armed with memories that weren't mine.
And instincts I didn't ask for.
Should I trust them?
The names.
The images.
The certainty?
Or were they just another trick of whatever fate dropped me into this world?
⸻
"That's her," one of them whispered.
Except it wasn't really a whisper.
Not soft enough to miss.
Not loud enough to challenge.
"The daughter who appeared out of nowhere."
My spine stiffened.
"She's taller than I imagined."
"Her skin... foreign."
"But beautiful."
Each word landed like a soft blade. Not deep enough to draw blood—but enough to sting.
They weren't even trying to hide their scrutiny.
I stood still. Frozen. Dumbfounded.
Because what was I supposed to do?
Smile? Curtsy?
Explain how I fell through time with no memory and woke up in silk?
I stared ahead blankly, as if the blooming cherry trees in the distance were far more interesting than the murmurs.
But inside?
I was screaming.
Every rustle of their armor, every glance, every breath—they were all judging me.
Weighing me.
Trying to decide if I was a pawn worth playing or a liability worth discarding.
And I couldn't blame them.
What kind of warlord plucks a strange girl out of nowhere and parades her before the most powerful clans in the country?
"Let them talk," Dōsan chuckled beside me. His voice casual, like this was all part of some game only he understood.
I didn't dare look at him.
Because if I did, I might ask—What exactly did you turn me into? A shield? A key? A lie wrapped in silk?
But I played the part.
Head high.
Eyes blank.
Heart racing.
Let them talk.
Let them guess.
Because I didn't know who I was either.
⸻
By dusk, nearly every major clan had sent a representative.
Some came with poets. Some with sword dancers. One brought an elephant.
But still... two seats remained empty.
The two that mattered most.
⸻
The great hall had never looked grander.
Silk banners flowed like waves across the ceiling.
Tables circled the room instead of standing apart—an idea I insisted on, to force conversation between rival clans.
Food and sake flowed freely. Poison testers were in every corner.
And still, I danced.
⸻
🌸The Sword Dance
It wasn't a performance I planned.
It was a song.
One I had hummed in pieces for weeks. One the castle bards eventually learned by ear.
They played it now, echoing off the walls like a memory I hadn't lived yet.
I took two wooden swords.
The same ones the soldiers used to train.
And I danced.
Spinning, sliding, striking the air in perfect rhythm.
I didn't know where it came from. The moves, the beat, the fire in my arms.
But when I opened my eyes—
The room was silent.
Even the most battle-hardened lords were frozen, wide-eyed.
Until Dōsan stood, clapped, and said—softly, and proudly:
"Remarkable."
Only then did they remember to breathe.
⸻
They clapped.
One by one.
Then all at once.
For the first time that night, the warlords stopped acting like conquerors. They acted like men. Rivals. Suitors. Witnesses.
They saw something they wanted.
And it wasn't just me.
It was what I represented.
Power. Mystery. Something no treaty could buy.
⸻
But as I curtsied, flushed and breathless, I saw something else:
Two men walking into the hall.
Late. Silent. Unapologetic.
Their faces half-hidden by shadow and firelight.
⸻
One had an eyepatch and a gaze that locked with mine like he already knew me.
The other wore no symbol, no crest, no weapon.
Just a quiet smirk...
...and eyes that made my blood freeze.