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Chapter 1

Yoshi

I stood there, my shoulders soaked and hair plastered against my forehead, trying to steady my breathing. My knuckles were white around the hilt of my blade.

There was no time to cower beneath the weight of the oncoming storm.

Kaneko towered before me, calmly assessing my stance. His hair whipped in the wind, and with his ridiculously chiseled jaw and muscular frame, he looked god-kissed. I would forever be jealous of his stature, especially when compared to my scrawny arms and pitiful chest.

Kaneko raised his bokken and launched himself forward, forcing me to the edge of the dock, beyond which the sea frothed and raged.

The world trembled beneath my feet as thunder—no longer distant—battered the skies.

Lightning streaked against blackness, illuminating the jagged coastline in quick, blinding flashes, while gusts yanked at my hair, unfurling my topknot.

Then the rain came.

It fell in sheets so densely I could scarcely see to the beginning of the dock where land met wood. Even so, neither the raging storm nor the echoes of my own misgivings could keep us from our training. Why my uncle insisted we spar on ever-bobbing planks was a mystery.

Why we remained while a gods-damned storm closed in was even more of one.

Uncle Takeo stood further down the dock, his powerful form braced against the wind. He wore a straw hat strapped tightly about his chin to shield his face, but the elements still battered him from all sides. His ever-present armor resisted the rain, though I knew he had to be soaked to his skin beneath. The faintest of smiles curled his lips.

He’s enjoying himself , I thought. Who enjoys taking a beating from both an opponent and the gods?

Ignoring the infuriating man, I focused on Kaneko.

He wasn’t smiling. He looked utterly composed.

The same storm that made me tremble seemed to invigorate him.

“Oni’s teeth!” I cursed under my breath, shivering as the cold seeped into my blood.

Kaneko’s grin widened.

“Come on,” he growled, raising his blade until its tip pointed at my chest. The wind tossed his words, but I heard the challenge as if it were a bell tolling. “The future Daimyo shouldn’t be so easy to defeat.”

Annoyance flared inside me, scorching the chill from the rain. “You—”

My breath caught as a gust of wind lashed my face with a cold spray.

Anger battled the bite of the storm, and I realized I was trembling—whether from fury or chill, I couldn’t say.

“It is no insult, Yoshi.” Kaneko stepped back, giving me room to retreat from the edge. His strokes were precise, each footstep calculated. “It is encouragement.”

His smirk belied his words. His wink . . . damn him and his wink.

I lunged without thinking, letting my temper guide my movement. My bokken whistled through the air, but Kaneko parried it with ease.

The crack of wood against wood was swallowed by another thunderclap.

We exchanged blows, each faster and louder than the last.

Neither of us gained ground as my anger fueled the flurry.

I stepped in, determined to close the gap and throw him off balance, but my left foot slid on the rain-slick planks, and I barely managed to right myself in time to deflect his counterstrike.

Lightning flared again, painting Kaneko’s features in harsh white light.

That smirk tugged at his mouth again.

He knew I’d charge in anger; he knew exactly how to provoke me.

“Yoshi- san ”—Uncle’s voice cut through the gale—“do not let frustration control your hand. Balance. Always balance.”

I wanted to yell back, to blame the storm or Kaneko or a hundred other things, but I knew better. In these moments, with my heart pounding and my pride on the line, I could hear my uncle’s patient instruction from years ago.

“Plant your feet, Yoshi. Feel the earth beneath you, the world around you. Let your body find its center.”

So I tried.

I forced myself to breathe, to spread my stance, to ignore the sting of salt and wind and rain.

Kaneko didn’t wait for me to find balance.

He rushed forward, delivering a quick series of strikes aimed at my arms and torso. I blocked with desperate speed, each impact jarring my elbows, wrists, and shoulders.

His final strike knocked my bokken wide, and it skidded across the sodden dock.

Before I could recover, he clacked the end of his sword against my side—lightly, but enough to mark a winning blow and likely leave an angry welt.

Frustration felt like a physical weight.

“Your eyes betray you,” Kaneko said in a quiet tone. Beneath the pelting rain, it felt strangely intimate, as if we were alone in a world of storms. He reached down, retrieved my bokken , extending it hilt first, then whispered, “They show your anger. You telegraph every move.”

He lowered his weapon and stepped back, offering me a respectful nod.

“Again,” Takeo barked.

I exhaled slowly, then lifted my bokken , ignoring the throbbing in my arms and side and, damn it, everywhere else.

Kaneko was right.

If I couldn’t master my emotions, if I couldn’t think several moves ahead, I would remain an easy target.

Some future Daimyo indeed.

My heart twisted at the thought.

How many times had I questioned whether I was truly worthy of that title?

Worthy to rule?

The wind lashed like a whip, nearly knocking me off balance. Rivulets of rainwater raced across the planks, swirling into the sea. In the distance, beyond my uncle’s silhouette, I glimpsed waves cresting in white, hungry foam, smashing against the wooden stilts that supported the pier. The entire city beyond was dark and hazy.

“Focus!” Takeo’s command cut through the roar.

I planted my stance anew, then lifted my bokken and advanced.

The water beneath my feet made each step treacherous. I feinted toward Kaneko’s shoulder, then shifted my weight, aiming for a low sweep instead.

He caught the ruse at the last second, pivoting gracefully.

I pressed on, spinning and feigning a blow to his hip, only to switch direction mid-strike, shifting all my force into an upward slash.

This time, Kaneko had to hop back, water sloshing around his ankles.

I heard a grunt of approval from Takeo.

My final lunge left my right foot braced near the dock’s edge. With the boards slick from rain and sea spray, my foot slipped completely.

Time seemed to slow.

My balance vanished.

One instant, I was engaged in a flurry of strikes, adrenaline coursing through my veins; the next, I was teetering backward over the edge of the dock, arms pinwheeling in the air.

My stomach lurched.

The ocean below yawned like a hungry beast, waves rising in frothing crests.

My bokken clattered to the boards as I braced for the plunge.

Rain showered my face, and the surge of a mountainous wave roared toward me.

“Yoshi!” Kaneko’s voice sang above the thunder.

He moved faster than I could react.

As frigid wind slapped my back, powerful hands clamped around my arm, Kaneko catching me by my forearm. My momentum nearly pulled him off balance, but he held true, his muscles straining as he hauled me onto the dock. My feet found purchase on the slick wood, and I stumbled into him, my chest heaving.

My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst.

Standing there, pressed against Kaneko, the two of us sucking in breath beneath the deluge, everything else faded.

The storm’s rage dimmed in my ears.

I was suddenly aware of Kaneko’s hand wrapped around my arm, warm, even through the soaking wet fabric. I felt the rise and fall of his heavy breaths, the beating of his heart in time with the racing of my own. His breath, rapid bursts, was hot against my face.

Lightning flashed, and in that slice of brilliance, our eyes met.

My pulse thundered anew, and a strange warmth bloomed in my chest.

“I’ve got you,” Kaneko said, but his voice sounded different now, thick as syrup. I’d recovered my balance, yet his grasp lingered, his gaze deepened. For the briefest moment, I thought his breath caught, too.

I swallowed hard and looked away, managing only one word, “Thanks.”

He let go and stepped back.

I felt the coolness of the rain again, the distant crash of waves returning, as the world sped back into focus. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I prayed that the storm would hide the blush creeping across them.

Takeo cleared his throat, startling me from the moment. “Stance! Go again!”

Kaneko and I sprang apart as if jolted by a lightning strike. I brushed droplets from my bokken ’s wooden surface, though they were quickly replaced by more.

Above us, thunder rumbled again.

Is training out here in this mess really that important? I wondered.

Takeo answered as if reading my thoughts. “If you wait for fair weather, you will never be prepared for the storms of life. Every warrior must learn to fight whenever an enemy calls.”

Kaneko and I shared a look, neither of us quite willing to challenge the Chief Samurai of our han , uncle or not.

I braced myself again, shifting my stance.

“All right,” I said, mustering the last of my courage and smirking at Kaneko with what little confidence remained. “Ladies first.”

His lips curled, and lightning flashed in his eyes.

This time, there was more caution in our steps as we circled the dock. The ferocity in Kaneko’s strikes remained, but I saw now a guarded concern in his eyes.

That made me more uncomfortable than the pelting rain.

Does he think me fragile, too prone to slipping, too weak to face him?

I set my jaw and met his blows with newfound fervor, moving in careful arcs. For the first time that day, I sensed a rhythm in our sparring. Thunder became our drumbeat, lightning our signals to strike or parry.

“Excellent, Yoshi. Your breathing is more controlled,” Takeo barked. “Kaneko, stop holding back! You do Yoshi no favors if you coddle him.”

A ghost of a smirk appeared on Kaneko’s lips. “I wasn’t holding back.”

Moon-blighted liar!

I pressed my advantage, using a shift of my hips to direct a blow toward his shoulder. He parried, and our weapons locked for an instant. Up close, I noticed the intensity in his dark eyes, the way his jaw clenched with the effort. For all his composure, he, too, was testing his limits in this storm.

We broke apart, only to re-engage a heartbeat later.

The wind gusted, swirling around us like an angry spirit, snatching at our keikogi . My uncle’s instructions echoed through my head—breathe, strike, evade, counter.

Finally, Takeo clapped his hands, his deep rumble almost lost in the gale. “Enough! If we keep this up, one of you will drown.”

I sighed in relief.

My arms trembled from exertion and the cold.

My teeth threatened to chatter.

Kaneko nodded, lowering his bokken , his breaths shallow and quick, then offered a curt bow and stepped back.

Takeo stepped away, scanning the storm-racked ocean, as the pier groaned beneath our combined weight. Wave after wave pounded its supports.

“In all my life,” Uncle murmured. “I have seen precious few storms like this at the start of spring. It feels as if the very seas are angry at us.”

Kaneko stepped up beside him, drawn to the dark horizon. His eyes narrowed as he raised a hand, pointing into the distant gloom. “Look.” The wind whipped at his sleeve, flattening it against his arm. “There.”

Takeo and I followed his gesture, peering through the downpour.

A flicker of lightning revealed rolling waves and the swirling mists of rain, but for just a flash, I glimpsed something else—a silhouette cutting through the haze.

A ship?

“Is that . . . ?” I asked, half to myself.

“Could be one of ours,” Takeo said, “but I am uncertain.”

“The banner,” I said, squinting. “I can’t see its mark, but in the flash, I swear I saw gold.”

Only one man in the Empire was allowed a banner of that color.