Ash sat in the grand hall of Yukihiro Manor, the air thick with the weight of expectation and silent judgment. Once a proud chamber of power, adorned with intricate silken tapestries and golden lanterns that bathed the room in warm light, it now felt suffocating. The storm outside raged against the manor’s delicate paper windows, each clap of thunder an ominous drumbeat to the trial unfolding within.


    At his side, Kaito stood, arms crossed, his smirk one of quiet satisfaction. Kaede sat beside Ash, her expression unreadable, her dark eyes cold as polished obsidian. Before them, kneeling, was Arata—flanked by two grim-faced Onin-Brigade warriors. His trembling form betrayed his fear, though he fought to keep his composure. The flickering candlelight cast jagged shadows across his face, accentuating the beads of sweat glistening at his brow.


    Arata swallowed hard before daring to speak. "Shogun, why attack me? I had already surrendered when you took power."


    Ash’s voice, when he finally spoke, was like tempered steel. "What happened in Raijū? Why did you return alone?"


    A flicker of hesitation crossed Arata’s face, his eyes darting between them before he exhaled sharply. "The mission… It came from Tetsuzan, the capital. They ordered us to betray your father—to leave him behind on Raijū. The mission itself was a farce: we were sent to invade a Raijū fortress, even though our forces were too few. It was meant to fail. But still, your father… he was a true warrior. He attacked anyway."


    His voice wavered as the weight of his confession settled. "Then… the Raijū warriors surrounded him. Rather than fighting to save him, I—" He clenched his fists, his knuckles bone-white. "I did nothing. Even when we had the chance to rescue him, I chose inaction."


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    The hall fell into silence, thick and heavy.


    Ash’s grip on his blade tightened, his knuckles aching beneath the pressure. The storm outside seemed to howl with the fury rising in his chest. His father—abandoned, left to die at the hands of the enemy. If he still lived, his suffering was Arata’s burden. If he was dead, then Arata was his executioner through cowardice.


    Finally, Ash spoke, his voice low and resolute. "You will be imprisoned until I confirm my father’s fate. If he lives, I will retrieve him, and he will decide what is to be done with you. If he is dead..." Ash’s voice dropped into a cold whisper. "Then you will be executed."


    Arata’s breath hitched, his body trembling as his fate settled upon him like a death shroud. Kaito’s smirk deepened, but Kaede remained silent, her gaze sharp and calculating. There was no satisfaction in her expression—only quiet deliberation, as if even now she measured Arata’s worth in the grand scheme of things.


    Ash turned to the guards. "Take him away."


    Arata did not resist as the Onin-Brigade warriors seized him and dragged him from the hall. The great doors slammed shut behind them, leaving only the ghostly echo of judgment in the air.


    Ash exhaled slowly, reining in the tempest within him. This was only the beginning. The true battle lay ahead—discovering whether his father still lived and, if not, delivering the justice his blood demanded.


    A slow, almost casual voice broke the silence. "What will we do with Yukihiro Manor?" Kaito asked, as if discussing the fate of a mere farmhouse and not a stronghold that had belonged to their enemies.


    Ash turned to Kaede. "Let Kaede decide."


    Kaede’s lips curled into a faint smile as she met Ash’s gaze, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Then I shall turn it into a Geisha Manor. A place of culture, beauty… and information."


    Kaito raised a curious brow. "A Geisha Manor? A den of whispers, then?"


    Kaede inclined her head, the barest hint of a smile playing at her lips. "A place where men lower their guard, where secrets slip from lips as easily as sake from a cup. It will serve us well."


    Kaito chuckled, shaking his head. "A fitting transformation. A house of war turned into a house of secrets."


    Ash merely nodded, trusting Kaede’s judgment. The past was behind them, but the future was yet to be written.