"It's you, Yanmo…"
Helped by his attendants, the old man eased himself upright. His voice was hoarse and thin.
His clouded eyes passed over his daughter, Yoruichi, and came to rest on Yanmo as he approached.
"Father, lie back. Don't strain yourself."
Yanmo moved quickly to support him, but the old man stayed his hand.
"No need. I know my own body. I won't die just yet—at least not before your wedding."
Shihōin Harushige's tone was stubborn, a faint echo of the fearless man he had been.
"If I can't see the two of you happy after the ceremony, I won't rest easy, even in death."
"Don't speak that way," Yanmo said. "Not only the wedding. Live to meet your grandchildren as well."
For once, his steady mask cracked. Since the day Harushige chose him, the old lord had treated him as a true son—lavish, unreserved. Yanmo prided himself on cold reason, yet kindness still struck deep. He had come to hold real respect—something like filial feeling—for this elder.
Harushige shook his head and looked to Yoruichi, gaze soft with pity.
"Yoruichi, I know you dislike this match, and that you resent this boy. If you must blame someone, blame me. Do not let it poison what lies between you."
"…I understand, Father."
At the door, Yoruichi bit her lip, forcing down the tremor in her voice. She was head of house now, not a child under anyone's wing. She had her grievances, but what could she do—defy him into the grave? She had only one father.
Harushige nodded and turned back to Yanmo.
"Child, I know you have your own thoughts. I don't have long. I'm asking this of you."
"Speak, and I will do it."
The old lord took measure of Yanmo's steady eyes and grave bearing and seemed satisfied.
"Yoruichi is a wild one—my fault. That bold, reckless streak will cause trouble, and it could drag down the Shihōin. When she errs, pull her back. If she cannot be checked, then look after Yushirō. Look after this house."
It was an entrustment at the end of life.
Yanmo's mind noted, without surprise, how accurate the old man's judgment was. Years from now Yoruichi would indeed run, and the clan would stagger. Even when vindicated later, what was lost would not return.
"I will. Rest easy," Yanmo said, solemn.
Harushige's approval deepened. I chose well, he thought. He knew his children. Yoruichi was brilliant but impulsive, untamed, without long view. Yushirō was sensible but too young and weak to carry a great name. Watching the Kuchiki example, Harushige had copied the move: among recent graduates he had chosen Yanmo for his calm strength, not his pedigree. Pride told him the Kuchiki son-in-law would bring no end of headaches. Let Ginrei worry about that.
"Take this."
With a dry hand he drew two worn ledgers from beneath his pillow and placed them in Yanmo's arms.
Yanmo glanced down, alert. "These are…?"
"The most important books of the Shihōin. One records wealth and holdings—coin, lands, houses, certain hidden sites. The other records our network—vassals, ties to other noble houses, embedded agents and eyes in key places. Names, lines, locations."
The old man pushed them into Yanmo's chest with trembling insistence.
"Finances and intelligence. From now on, they're yours to manage."
"Father…"
Even the dullest knew the weight of money and information. For Harushige to hand both over said everything. Yanmo met the old man's resolute gaze and bowed his head.
"I won't fail your trust."
Since the betrothal, Harushige had already placed the Second Division in Yoruichi's hands, giving her name and seat. Illness had not stopped him from moving the levers; he had been transferring authority on a measured schedule. In parallel, Yanmo received tools enough to support her—real power to match his duty.
This is what it means to love your children: plan beyond your own life.
The arrangements were for Yoruichi's future and the clan's safety.
When he finished, fatigue washed over the old man's face. Yanmo withdrew without further disturbance, pausing to instruct the attendants again to mind the lord's care before he stepped out.
Watching Yanmo go, Harushige sighed and said to his daughter, "He's a good one. After you marry, curb that temper. Don't bully him. Live well together. Give me a few grandchildren. Then when I face our ancestors below, I can hold my head high."
"Tch. Sanctimonious…"
Yoruichi bristled at the praise for Yanmo. "You saw him strut off, didn't you? That pose was unbearable."
"At least he can pretend," Harushige shot back. "Unlike someone who won't even bother in front of me."
"You're grown. He is too. 'Being yourself' is often just being rude. A little etiquette keeps bonds intact."
"I know. Save your breath and save your strength."
She waved him off and hurried after Yanmo.
Catching sight of him in the corridor, her energy snapped back into place. From a distance, she called out:
"Hey, Mr. Proper—wait up. I've got business with you."