The single-layered crimson silks—devoid of an obi—danced in the salty breeze, revealing more than decency demanded. The thin, almost transparent fabric clung to her damp skin, outlining the contours of her breasts and the warmth preserved between her thighs whenever the Iwase wind blew through the masts of the Kitamaebune.
The young woman disembarked gracefully, ignoring the boatman's outstretched hand. The man, motionless, seemed to have lost his voice before the noblewoman who had rewarded him with an atypical generosity for a simple crossing.
Upon touching the Etchū dock, her immaculate white tabi socks found firm ground, precisely avoiding the puddles left by the tide.
Hyūga Hinata—the feared Nine-Tailed Lunar Fox of the Getsuko-kai organization—let her pearly eyes sweep the horizon. The port pulsed with the frenetic trade of grain, sake, and the valuable konbu that connected Hokuriku to the rest of fragmented Japan. But for Hinata, the interest wasn't in the merchandise; her gaze, beneath her delicate facade, fell upon the common people huddled in the shadows of the cargo.
She walked along the quay, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the murmur of the porters and the creaking of the hemp ropes. And, as always, the fascinated gazes of mortals were upon her; all stopped—captivated by the maiden dressed in a manner considered indecent, with unforgettable beauty and eyes like a full moon—a sight that mere mortals like them had never imagined beholding, a sight they would never forget for the rest of their lives.
A group of ronin—masterless samurai—blocked the main path leading to the local inn. Their rough laughter ceased as Hinata approached. The leader, a man with a scar across his nose, spat on the ground and offered a wry smile.
“A delicate flower, all alone and so far from the capital?” he sneered, his hand resting heavily on the hilt of his katana. “The wind is too cold for someone not wearing an obi, madam. Perhaps we can warm you up.”
Hinata stopped a few steps away, the stench of sake emanating from them like foul incense. She didn't flinch, not even when the other three men moved to surround her.
“The heat I carry,” she said, her voice sounding like the tinkling of crystal bells, “is not something you could withstand. Get out of the way, I have no patience for corpses that still breathe.”
The man's smile vanished, the sound of steel sliding against the wooden scabbard was a dry hiss. The ronin leader raised his blade, but Hinata remained still. She was a statue of porcelain and silk.
“You talk too much for someone about to lose their tongue, witch,” the man growled, stepping forward with his right foot to steady the strike.
She looked up at him, the amber gleam emerging in her pearly eyes and reflecting in his small ones. Kotodama. The magic of the lunar foxes of Getsuko-kai.
“Move,” she said softly.
The man moved aside, making room to clear the path for her, as if his own body had betrayed his will. The blade, which seconds before had sought the young woman's neck, was still raised.
Hinata passed him without haste. The brushing of the crimson silk against the metal of his armor produced an almost imperceptible sound.
The other ronin remained confused, their hands glued to the hilts of their swords, but incapable of any aggressive movement—or too confused to react in any other way.
She continued towards the narrow alleys that climbed the slope, where the shadows of the teahouses began to lengthen.
Sakura leaned against a stone lantern post, the fine silks of her flowing white kimono, almost transparent, moving in the sea breeze. She raised her green eyes as she saw Hinata approaching her, unhurriedly.
“You’re late, Hinata,” Sakura said, more as an observation than a reprimand. “Was the boatman really that handsome, or did you decide to play with the rats on the docks just for fun?”
Sakura walked to the edge of the lookout point overlooking the fortified mansion of the master of trade routes.
“A boastful master?” Hinata asked.
She looked at the mansion on the cliff. The paper lanterns were beginning to light up.
“What’s the plan?”
“Seduction,” Hinata said. “There will be a banquet, won’t there?”
“A banquet,” Sakura repeated, savoring the idea. “Yes. Powerful men always confuse appetite with authority.”
Hinata adjusted the collar of her crimson robe, letting it fall a little further over her shoulders, exposing her pale skin.
“The monk and the merchant are celebrating the arrival of the konbu shipments in the main hall,” Sakura continued, her emerald eyes gleaming. “They expect entertainment. We can offer them something that even the Kyoto Court never dared to imagine.”
Tsukino-hime, the queen of Getsuko-kai, whose orders were as absolute as the phases of the moon. A mission given directly by her was not just a task; it was a sacred rite, an extension of the divine will that governed the organization.
“Sometimes I wonder why we do these missions, what does a rich and egocentric master have to do with Getsuko-kai?” Sakura murmured.
Hinata also wondered sometimes, but she didn't have the courage to delve deeper into the thought. The queen acted without giving them explanations.
“I'll stay with the merchant,” Hinata said after a moment. “I'll take him to bed.”
Sakura agreed, and they both walked up the slope. 153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvHdy2yLGM9
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