The days after the scouting raid settled into a fragile calm, the kind that felt like the hush before a summer storm. The village mourned the lost scout with quiet rituals—a small shrine of stacked stones by the paddy edge, offerings of rice and wildflowers left to wilt in the sun. Elias visited it once, the rough stones cool under his palm, the faint scent of incense from a villager's prayer stick lingering in the air. The loss sat heavy, a reminder that every victory carved a piece from someone. Pragmatism justified it—delayed the enemy, saved lives overall—but the human cost gnawed at him in quiet moments.
Kiyomi sensed it. That evening, as fireflies danced outside the hut in lazy golden sparks, she curled against him on the futon, her head on his chest. The mats smelled of fresh straw, the hearth's dying embers casting flickering orange light across her face. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his shirt, cool and gentle. "You carry too much," she whispered, voice soft like the rustle of rice stalks in wind. "Let me share it."
He pulled her closer, breathing in her herbal scent—wild mint and something floral from the soap she made. Her warmth seeped through him, easing the day's grit. "You do. More than you know."
Her kiss was slow, tender—lips soft and tasting faintly of the pickled radish from dinner. Love had rooted deep; her nurturing quiet was his refuge amid ambition's pull.
But ambition called louder the next morning. A rider arrived at dawn—horse lathered, armor bearing the crest of a minor daimyo allied loosely with Nobunaga. The man dismounted stiffly, mud-splattered boots thudding on the path. "Word from Lord Takigawa. The gaijin warrior who struck Imagawa supplies—your name spreads. He summons you to council. Bring your sword."
Villagers gathered, murmurs rippling like wind through paddies. Hiroshi: "Opportunity. But dangerous—court games worse than battlefields."
Elias nodded. "I'll go. Learn their plans, bring back aid."
Kiyomi's face paled as he packed—simple bundle of clothes, sword sharpened to a razor edge. She helped tie his armor, fingers lingering on the leather straps. "How long?"
"Days, maybe weeks." He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her lip. "Wait for me."
Tears welled, but she blinked them back. "Always. Be smart—come back to me."
The kiss goodbye was fierce—her body pressing close, warmth desperate through fabric. Love ached sweet; she'd become his heart.
The journey took three days—trails turning to wider roads, pines giving way to open fields. The rider, a taciturn ashigaru named Jiro, spoke little, but Elias drew out info: Takigawa's domain bordered Owari, hedging bets on Nobunaga's rise. Rain slicked the paths one afternoon—cold drops lashing faces, mud sucking at boots with wet squelches, clothes clinging heavy. They sheltered under a roadside shrine, torii gate creaking in wind, incense stubs cold from past prayers.
Castle town arrival hit like a wave. Gates loomed—thick wood banded iron, guards in dou armor eyeing them sharply. Inside: cobblestones slick from recent rain, reflecting lantern amber glow as dusk fell. Stalls lined streets—sizzling eel on skewers releasing savory smoke, grilled fish charring with salty crackle, vendors hawking rice cakes sticky-sweet. Incense wafted heavy from a nearby temple, sandalwood thick and heady. Crowds bustled—merchants in fine kosode, samurai striding purposeful, women in layered kimono gliding with geta clacks.
Elias's senses overloaded: the press of bodies warm, chatter rising in waves, underlying scents of horse dung and blooming plum trees. His "otherworldly" aura drew glances—gray eyes catching lantern light oddly, whispers trailing: "That gaijin... eyes like ash spirits."
Takigawa's castle rose central—stone base solid, wooden upper tiers elegant with tiled roofs curving graceful. Guards led him through corridors: tatami fresh-scented, screens painted with cranes in flight. Air heavy with incense and polished wood.
Audience chamber: Lord Takigawa on raised dais, stern face framed by lacquered helmet nearby. Retainers knelt in rows, silk robes rustling softly.
"You are the one who struck Imagawa supplies," Takigawa said, voice measured. "Bold. Useful. Nobunaga hears of it—sees potential."
Elias bowed deep, heart steady. "I serve where it benefits."
Takigawa's laugh short. "Pragmatic. Good. Stay. Advise on tactics. Your sword style—demonstrate later."
Dismissed to quarters: modest room with futon, low table, window overlooking gardens—plum blossoms drifting soft in breeze.
Evening banquet: opulent hall, lanterns casting golden glow on silk-clad nobles. Food lavish: sashimi glistening fresh, rice steamed perfect, sake warm and smooth down throat. Elias sat among retainers, listening—politics veiled in pleasantries.
Then she entered: Lady Reiha, Takigawa's daughter. Pearl skin luminous under lantern light, jet-black hair sculpted in ornate chignon with ivory pins catching flickers. Amber eyes sharp as hawk's, scanning the room with calculating grace. Buxom figure accentuated by azure kimono layered rich silk, gold embroidery shimmering as she moved. Jasmine perfume wafted subtle yet intoxicating as she approached his table.
"A gaijin advisor," she said, voice velvet with sarcastic edge, settling beside him—silk rustling soft against tatami. "Father says you're the one who bloodied Imagawa. Impressive... or lucky?"
Elias met her gaze—bold, challenging. Attraction hit immediate: her fire, ambition mirroring his. "Bit of both. Skill tips the scale."
Her laugh low, throaty. "Confident. I like that. Tell me—where does a foreigner learn to fight like tales of oni?"
"Far places." He leaned closer, jasmine heady. "But here, I learn more."
Her eyebrow arched, smirk playing. "Flattery? Or calculation?"
"Truth." Desire stirred—beyond utility, her wit igniting something real.
Banquet flowed: sake cups clinking, laughter rising. Reiha probed—origins, tactics—her touch "accidental" on his sleeve, warm through fabric.
Night deepened, hall emptying. She lingered: "Walk the gardens? Moon's full—beautiful... and private."
Elias agreed. Gardens: gravel paths crunching soft under geta, plum petals drifting cool on skin, night air crisp with blossom sweetness. Lanterns cast wavering amber pools.
She stopped by a pond, koi rippling dark water. "Father hedges on Nobunaga. Smart, but slow. You... you move faster. Why?"
"Time wastes lives." He stepped closer, her jasmine enveloping. "Build strong, quick. Wealth, loyalty."
Her eyes smoldered. "Ambitious. Dangerous." Hand brushed his—electric spark.
Attraction flared—genuine, beyond plan. Her bold fire drew him.
Moonlit walk ended with promise: more talks, more closeness.
Court whispers began—Elias rising, Reiha intrigued.