The training yard at the Ubuyashiki estate was loud that morning.
Every Hashira was there.
Rengoku laughed like thunder, Shinobu smiled like a blade, Tengen complained that the sun was "too un-flashy," and Sanemi cracked his knuckles every few seconds like he was waiting for a reason to fight.
Muichiro stood next to me, calm as always, eyes half-closed. "Don't move until you're told," he said quietly.
"I wasn't going to."
He gave a small nod. "Good."
The Master spoke from the veranda. "Today you'll all train together. Later, we'll speak of the letter that arrived last night."
That made everyone look up. Even Sanemi stopped cracking his knuckles.
We started with breathing drills. The sound of synchronized steps and swords filled the yard. Dust rose with every movement. I kept close behind Muichiro, copying his flow. He didn't even seem to breathe hard.
"Keep your shoulders low," he said without looking at me.
"I'm trying."
"Try quieter."
Before I could answer, Sanemi's voice cut across the yard. "You call that form? My grandmother swings harder."
He stalked through the line, shouting orders. When he reached me, he stopped. His storm-gray eyes scanned me from head to toe, sharp and bright as steel under sunlight.
"You're Mist's girl, right?" he said.
I nodded.
"Figures." He smirked. "He fights like fog. You move like it."
"I'm still learning," I said.
"Then learn faster."
He leaned close, close enough that I caught the scent of steel and sweat. "You're wasting a good body with slow feet."
I froze. He laughed, low and rough.
Muichiro didn't move, but I could feel his eyes on us.
After drills, we switched to sparring. Everyone paired up—Shinobu with Mitsuri, Giyuu with Rengoku.
Sanemi tossed me a practice sword. "You're with me, sweetheart."
"Sanemi—" Muichiro started, but the Master's voice called him away.
"Muichiro. Shinobu. With me."
He looked at me once, silent, then followed orders.
Sanemi grinned. "Guess it's just us."
He rolled his shoulders. "Show me what you got."
I took stance. He attacked before I could breathe. Our wooden swords clashed, sparks of pain shooting up my arms.
He was fast—too fast. He pushed forward like a storm, laughing when I blocked. "Not bad," he said. "For someone who looks like they've never been hit."
"Maybe you should stop aiming for my head," I snapped.
"Then move faster," he said, sweeping my legs. I hit the ground hard.
He rested his sword tip just beside my neck. "You can't wait for someone to save you out here."
"I wasn't."
He raised a brow. "Then get up."
I did. Dust clung to my hair. He watched me, eyes sharp, mouth curved. "That's better. I like it when you glare."
"Stop talking and fight."
He laughed. "Now you sound like him."
We clashed again. His hits came harder now—testing, taunting. He stepped close enough that I could feel his breath near my ear.
"Your heartbeat's too fast," he said. "You nervous, or just excited?"
"Back up," I said, blocking another swing.
He didn't. He leaned in until the swords crossed between us, our faces inches apart. "You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you like it rough."
My cheeks burned. "Move."
"Make me."
I shoved him back with the flat of my sword. He laughed again, eyes flashing silver-gray in the sunlight. "There it is. Fire."
"You're insane," I said.
"That's what they tell me."
He charged again—too fast to stop. His sword knocked mine aside, his hand catching my wrist. He twisted, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me stumble against him.
"Careful," he murmured. "Wouldn't want to fall for me."
"Let go."
He didn't. "Why? You're doing fine right here."
Then his grin flickered. His gaze shifted. I didn't have to turn to know why.
Muichiro's voice cut through the noise. "Let her go."
Sanemi smirked. "Relax, Mist. I'm teaching her."
"Your lessons involve too much touching."
"Maybe that's why they work."
Muichiro's tone didn't rise, but everyone nearby went quiet. "I said let her go."
Sanemi held my wrist a heartbeat longer, eyes locked on Muichiro's, then released it slowly. "Fine. Don't get jealous."
Muichiro stepped between us, calm but dangerous. "You mistake discipline for jealousy."
"I mistake boredom for control," Sanemi said, laughing. "You should try losing it once. Might make you human."
Muichiro didn't answer. He turned to me. "Are you okay?"
"Yes."
He looked at my wrist, saw the red mark, and his eyes darkened. "Training's over for you."
"I can keep going."
"Not with him."
Sanemi leaned on his sword. "Guess class dismissed."
Muichiro ignored him. "Come with me."
I followed, heart pounding.
We stopped at the far edge of the yard. Muichiro crouched, pulling a cloth from his sleeve. He wrapped it around my wrist with careful hands.
"You should've said no," he said.
"I tried."
"Try harder next time."
"I can handle him."
He tied the knot, neat and firm. "You shouldn't have to."
I met his eyes. "You sound angry."
He looked away. "You think that was training?"
"What was it then?"
"Provocation," he said. "Sanemi likes testing people. He doesn't understand limits."
"Do you?" I asked.
His gaze flicked to mine. "Yes."
Something in his voice made me stop breathing for a second.
"Don't fight him again," he said. "If he calls you, ignore it."
"I don't need protection."
He stood. "You have it anyway."
Evening came fast. Lanterns lit the paths. I sat near my quarters, cleaning the dirt from my sword. Muichiro was gone—summoned to the Master again.
That's when I saw it.
A letter on the window sill. Same thin paper, same black ink. No seal.
I picked it up.
Bride of Mist,
You fought where you shouldn't have, and now the air listens for you.
Do not train alone again.
Do not stand under the west wind.
The mark still burns under your skin, even if you can't see it.
— The Archivist
I folded the letter and held it tight.
When Muichiro returned, I handed it to him. He read fast, face unreadable.
"Where did you find it?"
"Window."
He looked at the frame, then outside. "Locked?"
"Yes."
He took the letter, burned it over the lantern flame, and said, "We leave at dawn."
"For where?"
"The pavilion," he said. "It's time."
He turned to go, then stopped at the door. "If Sanemi talks to you again, walk away."
I smiled faintly. "You sound jealous now."
He didn't look back. "No. Just focused."
When he left, the air outside shifted. A faint sound came from the courtyard—bells.
Twice.
I gripped the hairpin in my hair and whispered, "I'm still here."
The mist didn't answer, but I knew it had heard me.