Flame in the Mist (Flame in the Mist #1)(42)

Without thought, she shifted to the left.

Beside her sandaled foot, a copper coin winked into view.

A harrowing beat passed before ōkami bent to retrieve it. He did not move away as he aimed a bladed smile at her. Mariko bumped against him, suppressing a cringe. He returned the coin to her, all while standing close enough that she smelled the wood smoke on his clothes. Felt the warmth radiating from his skin.

A low hum began to form around him. Immediately Mariko swallowed the urge to cower, grateful for the shadows that concealed the color in her cheeks.

Was it from anger, then? Did anger unleash ōkami’s abilities?

Was he angry with her? Or amused? Why was it so hard for her to read this accursed boy?

“So now you’ve become a thief as well,” he said softly, his dark gaze filled with an uncanny light. “Fashion your throwing star. Take your winnings to Inako. But don’t feel fortunate when you do. The streets of the imperial city are only slightly less forgiving than I.”

—

The leader of the Black Clan waited until Ren, Haruki, and Sanada Takeo were far beyond earshot. He glanced at his best friend. His closest confidant since the darkest of times.

“What do you think of our newest recruit?” Ranmaru asked.

ōkami scowled in the direction of the tent entrance before replying. “He’s . . . quite smart. And equally odd.”

“Oddly smart, then.”

“Two qualities that engender concern. I don’t trust him.”

“What’s to trust?” Ranmaru tossed a silk cushion onto the packed earth, then took position over the ledgers strewn across the scarred low table. “Anyway it’s unlike you to care about such a thing.”

ōkami remained standing. “We should leave him in Inako. He won’t last a day in its bowels.”

“Or perhaps we should simply let the forest have him.” Ranmaru shrugged.

“Perhaps.” The Wolf did not sound convinced.

Ranmaru stopped skimming through the ledger. “Do you suspect he knows anything?”

“No. But he makes me feel . . . uncomfortable. I’m not certain why you wanted to bring him here. Why you thought he would make a good addition to our ranks.”

Ranmaru paused. They were both aware that very little made the Wolf uncomfortable. ōkami had spent his formative years impressing a sense of discomfort onto others. Impressing it and taking advantage of the aftermath.

It was far easier to bend the will of those amid strife.

“Sanada Takeo is different from anyone else in the Black Clan,” Ranmaru said. “He’s lost in a way that intrigues me. Intelligent in a way that could make him quite useful to our cause.” He paused again. “What about him makes you feel uncomfortable? It’s odd for anyone this insignificant to bother you so.” The beginnings of a smile began to cross his lips. “Or for anyone to remain unchecked after repeatedly challenging you.”

ōkami said nothing for a time. “Does the boy not make you uncomfortable?” he finally asked, his voice inexplicably hesitant. “Does he not—make you ask yourself strange questions?”

“No,” Ranmaru replied. “Not any more than usual. I’ll agree he’s strange. But have you seen Ren?”

“Ren is a boy lost between two worlds. That tends to happen when you witness your parents being butchered before your eyes,” ōkami said. “Of course Ren would be strange.”

“Well, it’s possible Sanada Takeo has seen such things as well.”

“Possible. But unlikely. He’s far too green to have witnessed anything truly horrific. Did you see how long it took him to put together a simple tent?”

“I thought you left that tent to test him.”

“That’s immaterial. For someone as smart as he, Sanada Takeo should have realized he was missing pieces long before Yoshi brought it to his attention. It’s obvious the boy has never had to fend for himself in his life. He’s coddled in a worrisome way. Likely the son of a wealthy man—book learned and world foolish.”

Ranmaru sighed. “I leave it to you, then. Whatever decision you make as to whether the boy stays or goes, I support you.” His left brow arched high into his forehead. “But he’s your responsibility in Inako. You earned that privilege by antagonizing him as you did today. And if I were you, I would be far more vigilant about how much you allow Sanada Takeo under your skin.” ōkami turned at this, clearly intent on disavowing the notion. But Ranmaru raised a hand, cutting him off before he could speak.

“Take Takeo to the teahouse as promised, then do what you will with him afterward.” Ranmaru flattened a blank sheet of washi paper and began rubbing a dampened ink stick into the inkwell beside him. “Though I’m inclined to let Takeo stay, as he might prove to be quite an asset. Oddly smart ideas notwithstanding.”

ōkami did not respond immediately.

“We shall see.”





RIVETS OF GOLD AND PETAL PINK WATERS





Inako.

A city of a hundred arched bridges and a thousand cherry trees. A city of mud and sweat and sewage. A city of golden cranes and amber sunsets.

A city of secrets.

The imperial city had changed in the four years since Kenshin had last been within its walls.

It was clearly bigger. The outskirts of Inako now pressed beyond the fields and forests that had ringed its borders in the past. Snaking through the city’s center was a gently flowing river littered with dying blossoms. Its petal pink waters were a painted stroke separating the tiled roofs on either shoreline—a swell of blue-grey clay, rising like the sea, bandied about by a storm.