Shizume didn’t understand charm.

  She understood stealth, misdirection, momentum, timing. She understood how to slow a heartbeat, how to pass through a crowd without being noticed, how to disappear into a shadow barely wide enough to exist.

  Charm didn’t have rules like that.

  Charm didn’t rely on precision. It didn’t rely on silence. It didn’t rely on restraint.

  Which meant she didn’t trust it.

  The outfit Kaelin had given her still felt wrong. Not heavy. Not restrictive. Just unfamiliar in a way that refused to fade, no matter how long she stood still. The fabric moved when she breathed. The cut was deliberate. Too deliberate.

  It wasn’t armor.

  It was exposure.

  Shizume lingered at the edge of the courtyard while the others talked, her posture composed out of habit rather than comfort. Raizō’s words from earlier replayed in her mind, uninvited.

  You look like you belong here with us.

  She didn’t know what to do with that.

  Belonging wasn’t something you earned through discipline. It wasn’t something you proved with efficiency. It wasn’t something you survived.

  Belonging required being seen.

  Kaelin had known that.

  Shizume shifted her weight slightly and resisted the urge to walk away. She had already tried that once. Kaelin had only smiled and adjusted the clasp herself.

  “Use what you have,” Kaelin had said lightly. “Not everything has to be a blade.”

  Shizume still didn’t understand what that meant.

  She hadn’t intended for anyone else to see.

  That was the first mistake.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She had waited until the courtyard had thinned, until the conversations softened and the space between people widened enough to breathe. Raizō stood alone near the far edge, adjusting the wrap on his wrist with practiced ease, his attention inward rather than outward.

  She approached quietly.

  Not silently. Quietly.

  Close enough to speak without raising her voice. Close enough that it felt deliberate.

  She stopped beside him.

  Raizō noticed immediately.

  He didn’t turn. He didn’t startle. His posture shifted just enough to acknowledge her presence, like he had been expecting her without knowing why.

  She opened her mouth.

  Nothing came out.

  She closed it again.

  This would have been easier with a blade.

  She met his eyes.

  Held them.

  Waited.

  Nothing happened.

  Raizō tilted his head slightly. “Do you need something?”

  That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

  Shizume adjusted her stance, rolling her shoulder back the way Kaelin had done earlier. She let her hand rest at her side instead of near her blades. Forced herself not to look away.

  Still nothing.

  Raizō frowned, clearly trying to understand. “Shizume?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it again, then tried something else.

  She leaned just a fraction closer.

  Awkward silence.

  Charm… charm… do something charming…

  She cleared her throat softly.

  Raizō glanced over. “Something wrong?”

  Shizume froze.

  She hadn’t planned for this part.

  “No,” she said quickly, then realized she needed to add something. That was how casual interaction worked, right? “I, um… like your boots.”

  Raizō looked down at them, confused. “…My boots?”

  “They’re… well-balanced.”

  Wrong. That sounded tactical, not charming. She tried again. “They look… good.”

  Raizō blinked at her, not sure what to make of the sudden compliment.

  “Thanks. I guess.”

  Shizume nodded too fast. “Good.”

  The effect was immediate.

  Not on Raizō.

  On Taren.

  Taren walked by, saw the situation instantly, and nearly tripped because he tried so hard not to laugh.

  “Are you two… attempting to flirt?” he muttered, loud enough to hear.

  Shizume whipped her head toward him. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh god,” Taren wheezed. “She doesn’t know.”

  Seris, passing behind him, whispered, “She really doesn’t.”

  Shizume stiffened.

  That’s when she realized they weren’t alone anymore.

  A few soldiers had slowed nearby. Not staring outright, but not looking away either. Someone whispered. Someone else pretended not to notice while absolutely noticing.

  And then she felt it.

  A familiar, assessing presence.

  Kaelin stood near the far edge of the courtyard, one hand resting lightly against the stone, eyes bright with unmistakable interest.

  Raizō, thoroughly lost, gently asked, “Shizume… why are you acting strange?”

  “…I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully.

  But she did know.

  It was Kaelin’s fault.

  This was her “test.”

  And she was failing spectacularly.

  Before she could embarrass herself further, she vanished into shadow faster than usual.

  Raizō blinked at the empty space.

  Kaelin laughed softly. Not mockingly. Not kindly.

  Taren wiped tears from his eyes. “That was the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

  Seris whispered, “She’s trying, Raizō.”

  “Trying what?” he asked.

  Neither answered.