Fish, Thieves, and First Impressions (2)

The sigil had faded, leaving behind the scent of charred paper and ozone. The kind of magic you didn't see in traveling groups or military parades. This was old-school stuff. Dangerous.

Kiyomi slumped against the wall, her breath ragged, her hands trembling. Not from fear.

From exhaustion.

Magic like that wasn't free.

I sheathed my blade, shoulder aching like hell. A part of me wanted to sit down, curse the gods, and sleep for a week. Another part knew that alley was still too exposed.

The smarter part won.

I crossed the distance between us in two quiet steps. She tensed as I crouched beside her.

"You still breathing?"

She glared at me like I'd asked if she could count.

"I'm fine," she rasped. Her voice was cracked glass. "Are you—?"

"I bleed all the time. Keeps me humble."

She tried to laugh. It came out more like a cough.

I reached into my sleeve, tore a strip of cloth from the inside lining, and pressed it to her hand.

"Wrap it. Tight. Shake like that too long and you'll pass out before your next lecture."

She blinked at the cloth. Blinked at me. Then, slowly, took it.

"…Thank you."

That was the first time she'd said it without sarcasm. I didn't quite know what to do with that.

So I ruined the moment.

"You're not gonna faint on me, are you?"

"No! I—just—"

She tried to straighten, then winced.

I caught her.

Didn't mean to. Just happened.

For one weird second, our eyes locked. Not the usual glares. Not fire. Something else.

I cleared my throat and let her go.

"I take it back," I muttered. "This job pays like crap."

She didn't rise to the bait. Not really.

"I didn't expect this either," she said softly. "I didn't think they'd come so soon."

I narrowed my eyes. "So you did know they were coming."

"…I suspected," she admitted. "I had hoped to find someone like you before they did."

"And if you hadn't?"

She didn't answer.

She didn't have to.

A groan snapped our attention to the far side of the alley.

The chain-wielder—barely conscious. Broken nose, split lip, maybe a fractured rib or two. Still breathing.

Which meant he could still talk.

I stood.

"Time to get some answers."

I tossed the bastard onto the floorboards like a sack of rotten rice. His head bounced once. He groaned. Not dead yet.

"Comfortable?" I asked.

No answer.

I knelt beside him. "I'm in a generous mood. You get to keep all your fingers if you give me something good in the next ten seconds."

He wheezed. Blood pooled in his mouth. I tapped his jaw with my knuckles, just hard enough to make him flinch.

"Tick-tock."

Kiyomi sat across the room, arms crossed, face unreadable. Her eyes didn't blink, didn't waver. This was a girl raised in silks and scrolls, but you don't survive in a political web without learning how to watch people squirm.

"I—I didn't know," the man choked out. "Didn't know it'd be her."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you did know someone was being hunted."

He winced. "We got a name. No face. Just a description and..."

He stopped.

"Go on," I said, smile sharp.

"…an imperial seal. They said it was stolen. That the girl with it was a fraud."

I shot a look at Kiyomi.

Her mouth tightened. She didn't look surprised. Just…tired.

I turned back to the bleeding idiot. "Who's 'they'?"

No answer. So I cracked my knuckles. Loudly.

He rushed the words out like they were on fire. "The Black Ink! Operatives out of the Lower Court! They're all over the noble houses—they do work the magistrates don't want traced!"

The Black Ink. Real charming name. I'd heard whispers—nobles hiring deniable thugs with education and poison in equal measure. The kind of people who wore silk gloves over bloodstained hands.

"Who hired them?" I asked.

"I don't know!" His eyes were wild now. "We don't get names. Just paper orders and half-pay up front!"

I stood up. Rolled my shoulder. Looked at the man on the ground, weighing whether he was worth finishing off.

"Do you think," I said, "they'll come for you next? After failing?"

His face told me everything I needed to know.

"…Enjoy your last few hours," I added with a grin.

Then I kicked the door open and walked into the night.

Outside, the air was cooler. Wind whispered down the alley.

Kiyomi followed in silence. The moon framed her like something out of a painting, her features hard and thoughtful.

"Imperial seal," I said.

She didn't flinch.

"You gonna tell me what this is really about?"

"I was going to," she replied. "When you earned it."

I stopped walking. Turned.

"I've nearly died twice since lunch."

"And you'll likely do so again."

I stared at her.

Then I laughed.

Not a chuckle. Not a smirk. A real, full laugh I hadn't heard out of my own mouth in years.

Kiyomi blinked, clearly thrown off.

"Fine," I said, stretching like a cat. "Don't tell me. I'll figure it out myself."

"You won't."

"We'll see."

We didn't speak for a while.

Kiyomi walked ahead, arms folded tight enough to strangle a goose. Probably thinking a hundred things. I let her. I wasn't in the mood to press her. Not yet. I'd gotten enough out of the chain-wielding idiot to confirm one thing:

This job was going to kill me and I'd already accepted it.

"You know," I said finally, "for someone who hires bodyguards, you do a damn good job of keeping them in the dark."

She didn't stop walking. "You weren't hired to know. You were hired to protect."

"Can't protect what I don't understand."

She sighed. It was quiet, tight. Like she'd been holding that breath for years.

"There's a temple. East of the capital. Ruins now. It's where I was told to go. The message was sealed with the Emperor's crest."

"The real one?"

"Yes."

"…And you just believed it."

She stopped this time.

"I had to."

She didn't elaborate. Didn't need to. I knew that tone. That edge.

When someone's whole life stops making sense, they cling to whatever thread feels real. Even if it cuts.

"Why a ruined temple?"

She looked over her shoulder, eyes sharp again. "That's what I plan to find out."

"And me?"

"You're coming with me."

I smirked. "Of course I am."

We reached the estate gates just as the first light of dawn peeled over the hills. Ornate wooden beams carved with cranes and clouds. Guard towers with shadows watching from within. The kind of place where a guy like me didn't belong. Not even a little.

Two guards stepped forward, hands on hilts.

Kiyomi raised a hand. "He's with me."

One of the guards sneered. "He smells like blood."

She replied coldly: "Let us pass."

They didn't like it. But they moved.

I followed her into enemy territory with nothing but steel at my side and sarcasm in my lungs.

Inside the compound was all polished wood, koi ponds, and judgmental stares. Servants bowed. Retainers frowned. A few noble-types whispered behind their sleeves as we passed.

Kiyomi led me toward a side wing—quieter, older. Dustier.

She opened the sliding door to a guest room with a futon, a bucket of clean water, and a small plate of pickled radish.

"Charming," I said.

"It's more than you deserve."

I dropped my sword by the futon. Sat down with a grunt.

Kiyomi hovered at the door a moment. Her mouth opened. Closed. Like she had something to say but couldn't decide how to say it.

Finally: "Sleep."

"…You're worried about me."

She rolled her eyes. "You're no good to me dead."

And then she left.

I stared at the ceiling. Listened to the soft click of her sandals fading down the hall.

I should've been sleeping.

Instead, I was thinking.

About Black Ink.

About the Emperor's seal.

About a ruined temple where truth and lies probably slept in the same bed.

And most of all—

About a girl in peach silk who hated being saved, and hated not knowing things even more.