a graceful fighter, calm and poised, taught by the same master as my brother and therefore in some ways stylistically similar. Yet, at the same time, Kouje was a vastly different man from Iseul when each had a sword in his hand. Both were stubborn, yes, and inexorable, and both grew fire-eyed and tiger-fierce, but Iseul became a punishing god, a vengeful deity. Kouje became the paragon of sword fighting, a man whose sword was merely one more extension of his body. Both fought uncommonly well, but in my most secret of hearts, I knew which style I preferred—Kouje’s quiet strength over Iseul’s wildfire fury.
This, however, was not a sword fight in the palace. I was not sitting some safe distance away, watching two men spar with wooden swords. Rather, I was standing a bare foot from Kouje as he sparred with Jiang—or rather, as he toyed with him. They were hardly matched: Kouje, who had trained in the palace, and Jiang, a common merchant. Each wild swing Jiang attempted, Kouje easily ducked, whereas every blow Kouje dealt hit its intended mark.
It was a side of Kouje I’d never seen. I didn’t even know how to stop him—after all, in the crowd that had formed, I couldn’t even use his real name without giving us away. In his current state, too, I couldn’t trust that he would respond to the aliases we’d arranged privately between us. I felt helpless.
Kichi swore. He stood a good head and shoulders above everyone else in the crowd, which had gathered round to jeer and holler instead of do anything useful, like stop the fighting. I thought that perhaps, if Kichi had wanted to wade through the crowd to get to Jiang, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem for him. It wouldn’t have been nearly so easy for me.
Kouje was handling himself quite well at the moment—it was obvious to anyone who knew what he was looking at that Jiang didn’t stand a chance—but I couldn’t just do nothing and wait for Kichi to change his mind and join the fray. Or worse, for the town’s authorities to arrive and adjudicate the fight. I threw myself forward into the crowd, too worried now to wonder about offending anyone if I jostled or pushed them. Not for the first time, I cursed my size—for although it was helpful in the disguise we’d manufactured, it made me feel futile and small when surrounded by so many able-bodied men and women. An elbow connected with my side; another narrowly missed my nose. I nearly cried out in frustration, still buried in the crush of bodies that had poured out of the other shops surrounding the noodle house, and hearing nothing but the two men scuffle and the roaring approval of the crowds.
I couldn’t get past.
“Hey!” A voice in the crowd shouted, slightly louder than the rest. It wasn’t a very cultured voice, but it was the sort of voice men listened to all the same. “Hey now, make way for the little blossom!”
Inokichi’s voice rang out over the heads of the onlookers. I had just enough time to prevent my knees from going weak with gratitude before my way became just a little clearer, and I hurled myself gratefully through the gap, running toward Kouje with a fervor I’d never felt before, as hot as fever in my blood. Someone in the crowd laughed as I burst through, as though this were a fascinating new development and their entertainment had just become that much more diverting.
My heart beat a wild anxiety within my chest. We couldn’t afford a scene like that.
Jiang’s face was white with rage. A cut on his lip was bleeding, but Kouje was being meticulous with his aim, and, despite how livid he must have been, wasn’t swinging at Jiang’s face at all. Now that I was closer, I could see that Kouje’s face bore the markings of the fight as well. His cheek was swollen beneath his eye, and there was a sore-looking spot on his jaw that I knew would be a large, dark bruise by nightfall. All at once, I felt the noodles I’d been so grateful to have eaten stir unpleasantly in my stomach. I pitched forward without thinking, grabbing on to Kouje’s arm with all my strength and dragging it back.
“Stop,” I said, breathless with fear. I had never seen such a rage on Kouje’s face before. I never wanted to see it again. “Please. That’s enough! Control