it against my shoulder. “We will not listen to idle gossip,” he told me. “I would not suggest we listen at all, except that… if there is any way to know how the Emperor plans to hunt us, I would like not to be caught unawares.”
Of course. I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it, though I nodded, and hoped that it might be enough. I could not help my loneliness, could not help feeling as though I were being left behind somehow. Kouje was adapting to the situation much more quickly than I could hope to.
I would have to work twice as hard, I vowed, so as not to become a burden on him.
This time, when Kouje set to work dismantling the rest of our crude camp, I helped him. We dragged branches across the earth to hide where we’d slept and tossed the stones of our fire pit into the stream where I’d washed my hands and face. Kouje patted the horse down, then we were away once more. I felt the beginnings of a lingering ache in my backside, the result of near-ceaseless riding, and pushed it to the back of my mind. I would not admit such weakness, when I did not know how far off our destination was. For Kouje to think it safe, it would have to be a great distance from here, which meant a great deal more riding.
“Will your sister teach me to fish?” I asked, when the birds had fallen silent and we had no more games to fill the time.
I felt Kouje’s laugh more than I heard it behind me. “After she teaches me, perhaps.”
I tried to imagine what it would be like. It wouldn’t be like the stories, I knew that. There would be no giant peaches to fish from the ocean, no life-changing fortune sent to benefit the hardworking fishermen, since we would be fishermen in counterfeit only. It would have to be for the joy of fishing that we worked, then, and not for the hope of anything greater. We would rise early in the morning, perhaps, when a gray fog still clung to the ocean and the sun was merely a promise on the horizon. Then we would get into our little boat, and—Kouje’s sister having told us all the best fishing spots—we would go to our very favorite of them all, casting our hooks and nets for bonito and flounder. We might well spend all day long underneath the sun, out on the water, waiting for the fish to come. By then, Kouje would have learned to speak easier, and we would talk about whatever came into our heads until the fish drew our attention by tugging at the nets. Perhaps, on very good days, we would come back with eel, and Kouje’s sister would say that we were naturals at it.
Was that a life that Kouje could be content with? Was it a life that I could be content with?
I didn’t know the answer to that, yet. But I was determined to find out.
“Is there a village near here?” I asked idly, tucking hair behind my ear.
“The last time I came this way, there was,” Kouje replied. I refrained from asking him when it was he last traveled through those parts. Remembering would be too raw, yet. We could save the tale for another afternoon.
Soon enough, the trees began to thin out as we approached the village of which Kouje had spoken. It was one of the many little stopgaps between the bustling hubs of activity that were the larger cities, governed by warlords, and the capital itself, the greatest city of all. I had never been through one of these smaller villages, since the main road used by our forces to get to the mountains did not run through such inconsequential places, only past them. I couldn’t help my curiosity, then, overpowering the feeling of strangeness. As Kouje guided the horse down the open dirt path that must have been the town’s main road, I lifted my head to peer inquisitively at the shabby wooden buildings. Some of them looked as though they’d fall apart at the first strong wind, but some of them hung cheerful cloth pennants from their doorways. Now and then, the banner would proclaim this building as an inn, and that one as a teahouse.
All at once, I felt such a sharp longing for green tea that my mouth felt wet with the taste of it.