“Losing her means losing the game.”
“Folly. One piece matters, and one only.” He tapped his Emperor upon the head. “All else is fodder.”
“You can’t win the game with only an Emperor.”
“He and a single pawn are enough, if you strip your opponent of all he possesses. It is worth losing almost everything if you leave the enemy with nothing at all.”
“Victory at any cost?”
“The stakes demand conviction. There is no prize for second in this game.”
“You just said defeat could be a great teacher.”
“I did.” Daichi winced as he cleared his throat. “But there comes a time when the cost of losing is too high. When all must be risked for victory.”
The old man was seized by a coughing fit, a long wracking spasm, stifled with another mouthful of tea. He regained his breath, hawked a mouthful of spit to sizzle in the fire. When he wiped his hand across his lips, Kin’s heart lurched about his insides, cold dread stilling his belly.
A black stain glistened on Daichi’s knuckles.
“Oh, no…” Kin said.
Daichi stared at the smear for a long moment, steady hands, measured breath.
“And there comes a time when there is no time left at all,” he murmured.
“… You have blacklung.”
“A fitting end,” Daichi shrugged. “There are few more deserving.”
“How long have you known?”
“Not long.” The old man sniffed. “Long enough.”
“I’m so sorry, Daichi…”
“Do not be.” He rubbed the burn scars on his arms. “It is a fate well earned.”
“Does Kaori know?”
“She does not.” The old man glared. “And she will not learn it from you either.”
“You don’t think she’s going to find out eventually?”
“In time.” A shrug. “All things become clear as Iishi rain in time.”
Kin ran his palm through the short hair on his scalp, across the back of his neck. He felt sick, stomach in oily knots, thinking about the fate awaiting Daichi down the road. Not a warrior’s end. Not a hero’s. He pictured the blacklung beggars in Kigen’s gutters; wretches coughing their insides out, trembling hands filled with dark, bloody mouthfuls.
He knew the things Daichi had done, the murder that stained his hands—the Daiyakawa peasants, Yukiko’s own pregnant mother. But nobody deserved to die like that.
Daichi took another sip of tea.
“You did not come here to play chess.”
Kin blinked. “No, I didn’t. I want you to release Ayane from her cage.”
“The lotusgirl has done nothing to inspire our faith. Freeing her would be unwise.”
“If you’re worried about her, why not release into my care? I guarantee—”
“There are few amongst us who hold faith in you either, Kin-san.”
“But do you?”
The old man wiped blackened knuckles on his hakama. “A little more each day.”
“Then wouldn’t you feel better knowing I was watching her full time?”
“Why, would you?”
They looked at each other across the ruins of Kin’s forces. Brick-heavy silence, firelight flickering in double crescents across Daichi’s eyes.
Kin heard soft footsteps on the landing, creaking floorboards. A quiet knock, the door peeling open to admit muted daylight, still painfully bright after so long in the gloom. Kaori stepped into the room with whisper-light feet, fringe swept back under the goggles perched upon her head. Her scar gleamed angry red on teak-stain skin.
“Father, Ryusaki sends word. They are near Jukai prov—”
She stopped short as her eyes adjusted, spied Kin kneeling by the chessboard.
“Jukai province?” Kin blinked. “You mean the Stain? Is that where Ryusaki was headed? The Guild staging grounds are…”
Kaori glared. Mute. Hand on her wakizashi hilt.
“… I will take my leave, then.” Kin stood, covered his fist and bowed.
“I enjoyed our game, Kin-san.” Daichi nodded to the board. “Though when next we play, I will expect more commitment in your attack. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“I’d like that.”
Kin gave Kaori a short bow, but the woman didn’t even blink. Her eyes followed him as he left; a bird of prey watching a field mouse in the shadows of long, yellow grass.
Stepping out into the light, he looked around the village; the men dragging venison to the slaughterhouse, women repairing thatched roofs, children gathered at sensei’s feet, chalk tablets in hand. The trees around him seemed afire; foliage swaying like flame tongues, curling along dry, brittle branches. Leaves tumbled between the trees as if stars from empty red skies.
So much at stake here. So much to lose.
Kin wondered if Daichi really would risk it all for final victory.
Memories of his Awakening came unbidden to his mind. Hundreds of glowing red eyes, staring up at him with more affection in a single featureless face than lay in all of the Kagé combined. The memory turned his gut slick with dread.
When the time comes, will you?
An iron bell in the night. A cry ringing amidst the trees. A word.
Kin opened his eyes, cocked his head, straining to hear.
“Oni!”
A faint cry, almost lost beneath nightsong and the rumble of Iishi storms.
“Oni!”
Rolling from his bed, Kin scrambled to his feet and stumbled from his door, dashing in the direction of the cries. He could see bobbing lanterns in the distance, hear a rising gaggle of voices. Rope bridges swayed beneath him, bare feet pounding unfinished wood, dead leaves falling in a snarling wind. He came upon a group gathered outside Daichi’s dwelling—Kaori, Maro, Isao, Takeshi, Atsushi, two dozen others, men and women, warriors all. Daichi stood in the center of the ring, clad in a banded iron breastplate, a great ōdachi sword in his hands at least as tall as Kin was. The old man’s voice was hoarse, tired, but fire burned in his eyes.
“Scouts report an oni war band from Black Temple moving toward the village.” Daichi’s stare roamed from one warrior to the next. “At least two dozen.”
Uneasy murmurs. An exchange of wary glances.
So many …
“Take heart,” he said. “We have faced such numbers before.”
“With the Stormdancer at our side.” Atsushi echoed Kin’s own thoughts. “But where is she now? How can we face such a force without her?”
“We have another equalizer,” Daichi said. “Kin’s shuriken-throwers will thin the demon’s ranks enough for us to deal with the remainder. We will make our stand along the ’thrower line.”
Isao shook his head, raising voice in protest.
“Daichi-sama, we cannot be certain the Guildsman’s contraptions will not fall to pieces in battle. And we have no maneuverability if we chain ourselves to his perimeter.”
“I agree with Isao-san, Father.” Kaori nodded. “I suggest we ambush. Wait until the oni are moving among the pit traps, then strike from the trees.”
“We did that last time, didn’t we?”
All eyes turned on Kin as he spoke. Distrust. Hostility. Anger. The boy ignored the stares, met Kaori’s eyes.
“We won’t get them the same way a second time,” he said. “The survivors of the last attack will have told their brethren we struck from the treetops.”
“We?” Isao spat. “I don’t recall seeing you there, Guildsman…”
“Because I was locked in your prison,” Kin replied. “After you threatened to cut my throat. Don’t you remember?”
A hateful stare. Clenched jaw. Isao turned back to Daichi.
“This is madness,” the boy said. “We cannot trust the Guildsman’s machines.”
“With all due respect, I agree, Daichi-sama.” Atsushi stood at Isao’s back, something close to fear in his stare. Takeshi stood beside him, all nerves and wide eyes, fingernails chewed to the quick.