Nika winced at the pain in her shoulder as she gingerly rolled her arm. Tomorrow’s training would be even harder, as would every day after that. But such was the cost of expedited progress. She would not be able to move up swiftly without a good deal of pain.

  Three raps of her knuckles on the hardwood door and then she was striding into Elder Ishikata’s office again.

  “Ah, Young Lady. You look strong as ever. Is your training coming along well?”

  “As well as can be expected, given the ambitious plan. So far, we remain on track. Thank you for asking, elder.”

  “Good, good. You will go on to make the clan proud, I’m sure. But I did not ask you here only to offer compliments. While doing my rounds, it has come to my attention that you’ve been implementing some… changes.”

  He said the last word slowly, grimacing, as if it hurt him physically just to speak it. Nika nodded, trying for a reassuring smile.

  “Indeed I have, elder. I understand this brings more work for the teams, but I believe these changes are necessary to halt our decline and meet the quota.”

  “You’ve brought trainers into the mines. How is that meant to help our productivity?”

  “It is not intended to do that, though I would not be surprised if it eventually does end up improving mining productivity by a small margin. We have begun advertising the benefits to attract more recruits. After considering what sets us apart, we’ve started something of a campaign. ‘Get paid to reach Coral’ is the key message. The idea is that we will teach our recruits to channel Ki in the appropriate patterns during the strenuous mining work, so that heaving a load stone is not only paid labor, but serves also as effective training. Hence the presence of the trainers.”

  She held her back straight and her chin high, even as the elder’s frown deepened. His enthusiasm was not to be expected, but it was nevertheless a strong idea and she would stand by it. It was too early to tell, but if it improved the rate of breakthroughs to Coral by even a small margin, it would be a highly cost-efficient measure. Any clan with some need for physical labor should be keen to adopt this new method.

  “Campaign? We’re doing advertising now? Please tell me we do not have people spinning signs and shouting slogans. A shield is never ostentatious - I recall us having that conversation just a few days ago.”

  The elder was still speaking slowly and pleasantly, but she was ready for him to turn to barking any second, though she wasn’t sure what might trigger it.

  “Nothing so ostentatious as sign spinners or criers, Elder Ishikata, though we do have a sign placed outside of the recruitment office. I assure you it is all quite tasteful. You may consider it as, ah, simply wiping a bit of dust off the old shield, not painting it in gaudy colors.”

  “Mm,” the squat man rumbled, considering. She decided to try and change the topic before he found grounds to object to this campaign of hers.

  “I wanted to ask for your advice on something, if I may, elder.” He nodded. “I am attempting to strike a deal with a few other Great Clans. The Takeda are a pivotal piece, yet Kire is proving quite stubborn. I may yet convince him, but he has demanded a sparring match. I have naturally declined, as is clan policy, yet I wonder how damaging it could be, if it were a short match in the privacy of-”

  “A sparring match? With a Takeda?” he barked, so loud and sudden that she nearly flinched back. “Madness! There hasn’t been a generation of those battle-crazed beasts that hasn’t wanted to hone its blades against Houjo shields. They’re crafty. Quick learners. Show them a trick once and they’ll never forget! You may think they’re our closest allies, but if there is one clan to avoid fights with above all, Young Lady, it’s the Takeda.”

  Nika shifted her feet and cleared her throat. “Your objections and warnings have been well noted, elder. Thank you for the guidance.” She turned on her heel to take her leave, but the elder stopped her.

  “Not so fast, Young Lady. I have here a petition. From the staff. Would you care to venture a guess, as to how often I receive such petitions? From Houjo staff?”

  “That… Very rarely, I presume?”

  “Never!” he yelled, angrily waving the scroll in his hand as he went on. “Not once in my many years here on this floor! It’s about that stray you’ve brought with you. Something about his hammock? And don’t think that I haven’t heard about that disgrace at the gala! The shame of it! Never in my many years…”

  ***

  Elder Ishikata’s tirade hadn’t put a crack in Nika’s determination, not quite, yet her mood was somber as she left the Houjo fort. It had perhaps been naive to expect enthusiastic smiles from her clansmen as she attempted to usher in change, but instead of receiving support, it felt like she was being actively held back. After serving as a guiding light for so many years, some of the old values were now beginning to feel like shackles.

  Attract recruits, but don’t be too loud! Forge alliances with other clans, but don’t give them what they want!

  Attempting to change things for the better without offending anyone was a lot like walking a tightrope. Sooner or later, she was bound to make a misstep.

  What she really needed to do was deliver results. Hitting the quota would bring the likes of Elder Ishikata right back around to her side. Closing that deal with Kire would be the best and fastest way to achieve that; trading the excess metal they had sitting around for more minerals should deliver the quota.

  So she headed to the Takeda residences, which, unlike most of the other clans, was not a well-fortified compound. There were guards, of course, but there were multiple entrances and the walls were not high enough to give any well-trained Amber pause. It was a clear reminder of the differences between their two clans; unlike the Houjo who held a strong defense as deterrent, the Takeda practically invited people in to come and challenge them. As they liked to say, the challenge would serve to sharpen their blades.

  Once past the gates, Nika strode calmly through the groves, hands clasped behind her back as she took her time to look around at the disparate patches of forest, different species of trees that had been carefully planted and cultivated.

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  The Takeda clan seemed to be well-staffed, having multiple teams active. To her left, a group of young Ambers were taking turns to launch chops fortified with blade-Ki at an unyielding tree trunk. On the other side, another group were stoking a fire in a pit dug in a circle ringed with spindlier trees, ones with shiny veins running through their bark. Flames licked up along those trunks until molten metal ran out along pre-cut grooves into a mold waiting at the bottom.

  In between the working crews, others fought. She watched as two Ambers argued about whose turn it was to attempt to cut through the thick trunk, then, when they could not find agreement, they walked off to one of the many sparring circles. None of this would be allowed on Houjo grounds, but then this too was exemplary of the Takeda philosophy: strength at all costs. Taking every opportunity to hone their blades.

  Was that why Kire had simply let her enter these grounds, instead of arranging a meeting room in the mansion? So that she might see and be intimidated by their strength and numbers, or perhaps begin to see folly in the Houjo’s ways? Or might it simply be to show that they had nothing to fear from her or her clan?

  The servant led her on, passing by another group of woodcutters who looked at her, then promptly turned back to their labor without even a bow. Her lips thinned. Not exactly the greeting she would expect from an allied clan, but she supposed not every worker may be trained on proper etiquette. Yet it used to be different. She’d visited their groves on the third floor so often that they’d all recognized her.

  They walked deeper into a forest thick enough to block out most of the pillar’s light and in that twilight stood Kire, focused, weapon in hand. It was the same type of curved axe he’d loved as a child, long edge curving down from the sleek blades at the front all along the haft.

  His eyes opened and the blade flashed, sending out a wave of blade Ki that screamed through the air, cutting through three entire trees before its energy was spent. A superb display of skill with Emanation, as expected of the Takeda genius. If that attack was sent at her, she might just prefer to dodge. Kire grinned at her as those trees came crashing down, leaning forward with both hands on his axe.

  “Nika! How long has it been since you visited our groves? Four years? Five? Please tell me you’ve finally come for a spar.”

  “I… I believe it was less than that,” she said, but as she thought back, she realized he must be right. It had really been that long. She coughed into her fist, recovering.

  “I have come with a proposal that may benefit you and the Takeda clan, far more than a mere sparring match ever could.”

  He stared at her for a moment and she thought he looked not just disappointed, but a touch sad as well. Eventually, he let out a sigh, speaking in a resigned tone.

  “Oh, right. Very well then, let’s hear it.”

  “Besides an exchange of excess materials - our metal against your minerals - I propose to jointly adapt our recruiting methods. For years, the Great Clans have jealously held on to their recruits, seeing any exchange as a form of mutiny. I believe this is suboptimal and is ultimately to the detriment of our clans, as well as some of the recruits.”

  Kire had walked up to her, giving her a sceptical look. “Go on,” he said.

  “It is often revealed at an early stage that recruits do not have the aptitude or temperament, or neither, to fit well within the clan. They will not excel at the tasks they are given, nor in their cultivation. Simply put: they are a bad fit, yet their talents could be put to good use elsewhere. But since they’ve effectively signed up for life, they, and we, are stuck in that situation.”

  He was still frowning, but nodded. “I’m familiar with the problem. Our training and culture can be brutal. Not everyone is cut out for it. But there’s an easy solution: we just assign the flunkies to menial tasks or labor.”

  “As most clans would. Yet it is a lost opportunity. Those recruits all have a high base talent, or they never would have made it through the selection process in the first place. I may have poor miners that are better suited to cultivating sharpness and yearn to wield an axe. Or both of us may have some young recruits that grow to detest physical labor yet find themselves drawn to more cerebral tasks, who might better fit with the Hashira. We would have to come to clear agreements on the execution. But if, together with the Hashira and Taira, the four of us begin exchanging those recruits, we would all be better off.”

  “You wish to change an age-old practice? You, Nika of the Houjo clan?” He snorted. “I thought they’d properly indoctrinated you during the last few years. Good to see some speck of resistance yet remains.”

  She frowned, but decided to push on instead of getting side-tracked.

  “If an old practice can be changed for the better, why not take the opportunity. Do you deny the benefits?”

  “Solving recruitment problems through peaceful collaboration between Great Clans? It’s a clever idea, and the benefits are clear.”

  She smiled. “Then-”

  “I refuse.”

  It took her a moment to register and the surprise must have shown on her face, judging from his satisfied smirk. When he let the silence linger instead of explaining himself, she was forced to ask, “Why?”

  He shrugged casually. “I have an easier way to increase recruitment. Besides, I prefer a bit of competition between the clans. Too much collaboration will dull our blades, don’t you think?”

  An easier way? There was only one option she could think of.

  “The pills? Another deal with the Ashikaga?” Her hands, still clasped behind her back, squeezed until it hurt as she fought to keep the anger from showing on her face. “You do not care about the side effects?”

  He shrugged again. “I’ve been told there are none, or at least none that are obvious. Unlike you, I don’t mind a bit of risk.”

  She bit back the retort that it wasn’t his own wellbeing he was risking, that it was unvirtuous to be this callous with the lives of his recruits. He wouldn’t care. A long breath filled her lungs, which she let slowly out again. What could she still hope to achieve here?

  “At least the exchange of goods, then-”

  Kire snorted. “Barely worth busying myself with. If you want the exchange, then fight me.”

  “By the pillar, Kire!” she finally snapped out. “How long have we known each other? Is everything just a transaction for you now?”

  She expected to see satisfaction, another smirk for finally getting through her skin, so it took her off guard when his face twisted with sudden anger.

  “A transaction for me? Listen to yourself! You’re the one walking in here like a damn businesswoman, Nika! We used to spar all the time. So what if we picked up a few techniques since then? Are you expecting to go to war with the Takeda?”

  She took a step back, eyes widening. “No! Of course not-”

  “Then why do you act like it?” he shouted.

  “What do you-”

  “Secrets, Nika! It’s all secrets and propriety with you now. After four years you come to me, wielding fucking clan policy and formal proposals, like I’m a damn stakeholder to manage. We used to be friends. And you actually spoke your fucking mind back then.”

  She flinched back despite herself, gasping as he went on, reeling from his unexpected attack. His words cut like the sharpest blade, and there was no amount of Ki that could shield her from them.

  “You used to laugh, remember? How long has that been, huh? You were an actual person back then. You had hopes and dreams, and I knew them. I knew you,” he practically spat the last word out, then turned on his heel. “But not anymore. The staff will let you out.”

  “Wait… I…” she breathed, voice cracking. Even if he had turned back, she wouldn’t have known what to say. His angry words had pierced right through her, and she found that she couldn’t even muster an angry retort.

  So she was left standing there, staring mutely at her old friend’s back with glistening eyes. The words she’d spoken to Dario came to mind. “Nobles don’t make friends,” she had said to him.

  Yet somehow, it seemed that she was capable of losing them.