The Takiyamura central market, perched on the mid-level of the mountain slope, was the heart of the village. Built into the rugged terrain, the village rose in tiers, with narrow paths and steep stairways connecting the different levels.
The air was filled with the scent of grilled street food and lively exchanges, often followed by curses and threats when the right price wasn’t found. People moved from stall to stall, trying to secure the best deals with what little money they had.
Hiro kept his pace steady, careful not to draw attention to himself. After leaving Aoki’s shop on one of the upper levels, he had made his way down the winding paths and uneven steps to lose himself in the chaotic energy of the market’s main square. Here, it was easier to disappear—and that was exactly what he intended to do.
What was that samurai doing there? His thoughts circled. No, he shouldn’t have any idea it was me—no one saw my face. Still, it’s better to lay low for a few days. And bring this scroll back to the cave.
His stomach grumbled, despite the hearty meal he'd had the night before—the consequence of chronic hunger. Damn you, Aoki. Hiro had been counting on the old man for a few ryō to buy food.
As he weaved through the food stalls, his ears caught a commotion near a fruit stand. A girl, about his age, was arguing with the vendor. Her clothes were worn but clearly of better quality than his. She was small and slight, her long black hair neatly tied back and hanging to one side beneath her hood.
Hiro smirked as he came closer, curious about the argument. Opportunity is the mother of success, he thought.
The vendor, Hiruzen, an elderly, gray-haired man with so many wrinkles that his features seemed to disappear beneath them, was clearly irritated.
“Little girl, what do you actually want from me?”
“I want you to stop this,” she replied, her tone commanding. “I saw what you did to that poor mother and her son. You overcharged them and gave them mostly rotten apples.”
“My apples aren’t rotten,” Hiruzen shot back. “Who do you think you are, accusing me?”
“I know what I saw,” the girl said, crossing her arms. “If you don’t make it right, I’ll report you to the authorities.”
The vendor laughed out loud. “Ha. You must be new here. Go ahead, report me. Nobody listens to brats like you in Takiyamura. Now, do you want to buy something or not?”
Good luck getting that old miser Hiruzen to admit to anything, Hiro thought, shaking his head. That’s why only fools buy from him. But he couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. Hiruzen was right—she was probably new to the village.
“You know what, old man?” the girl said in a low voice. “This isn’t over.”
Hiruzen laughed even harder, waving her off, then turned back to hawking his goods to the next customer.
Seizing the moment, Hiro decided to stir up some mischief—for a good cause, of course. As the girl turned to leave, he casually plucked an apple from Hiruzen’s basket and hurried after her.
But just as he caught up, she spun around abruptly.
“Why are you following me, kid?” she asked, her sharp brown eyes beaming from under her hood.
Hiro blinked, caught off guard.
“Nani? Who are you calling a kid? I’m not a kid, I'm fifteen years old—you’re my age!” he snapped, his voice rising.
She sighed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t have time to argue with children. What do you want?”
Hiro straightened, trying to regain his composure. “I took this apple from that old miser Hiruzen,” he said, tossing it lightly in the air. “Figured you’d want to give it to that poor woman. Both of you don’t seem to know how things work around here.” He smirked, feeling clever.
The girl raised an eyebrow, then pulled two apples from her bag.
“Oh really? That’s nice of you,” she said dryly, her tone mocking. “But I already took two myself.”
Hiro’s jaw dropped. How the hell did she do that? He had been watching her the whole time, and she’d managed to swipe them right under Hiruzen’s nose - and his own.
Before he could respond, she turned and walked away.
“Chikushō!” Hiro cursed under his breath. He couldn’t let it end like this—not after she one-upped him.
He darted after her. This wasn’t about apples anymore. It was about pride.
He spotted her a few steps ahead, her bag hanging loose from her side. As she paused to inspect another stall, Hiro saw his chance.
He crept closer, his fingers brushing the edge of the bag, and quickly slipped out an apple. He stepped back, triumphant—until her voice cut through the air.
“Hey! That’s mine!” she exclaimed, spinning around to face him.
Hiro grinned, taking a bite of the apple. “Not anymore,” he said through a mouthful. “You should keep a better eye on your things.”
Her eyes narrowed, fury flashing across her face. “You’ve got some nerve,” she hissed, stepping closer. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Hiro raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her anger. “Just a hungry guy trying to get by," he replied nonchalantly. “Besides, you look like you come from one of the well-off families. Maybe even one of the five clans? One apple’s not going to hurt you.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “How do you…?”
Hiro cut her off with a smug grin. “I’ve been around long enough to know who’s who,” he said, tapping his chest proudly. “The name’s Hiro. Remember it!”
The girl hesitated, her expression softening. “Mai,” she said reluctantly. “And it’s not about the apple,” she added. “It’s the principle. I was going to give it to that woman.”
Hiro chuckled, tossing the apple back into her bag. “Fine, Mai. Take it. Wouldn’t want to ruin your day.”
He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.
“You’re a thief, aren’t you?” she called after him, her tone accusatory. “Stealing from people who have nothing.”
Hiro stiffened, turning back slowly. A flash of anger crossed his face.
“And you’re just another rich girl playing savior,” he shot back. “You think you know this village? You don’t. You walk around feeling good about yourself because you stole two measly apples from that greedy old man, but you have no idea what it’s really like to live here.”
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Mai’s face flushed with embarrassment. “That’s not true,” she snapped, her voice shaking. “I know more than you think, you idiot!”
Hiro rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.” He spun on his heel, ready to leave, but Mai wasn’t finished.
“You’re not as clever as you think,” she called after him. “Just because you can steal doesn’t make you smart. You’re just a petty thief.”
Hiro stopped again, his jaw tightening. For a moment, both stood still in silence, the bustling market fading into the background. Then, he turned with a scowl on his face and replied, “And you’re just an ugly, spoiled brat pretending to care.”
Without waiting for her response, he ran off and disappeared into the crowd.
Mai stood frozen, her fists clenched. His words cut deeper than she expected, leaving her shaken. She hated the way he made her feel—like she didn’t belong, like she didn’t understand.
Was he right? Was she really so out of touch? She swallowed hard, blinking back tears.
“Gomen nasai, oji-chan,” she whispered under her breath.
* * *
The grand halls of the Kageyama estate were tranquil as the elder meeting began. A soft breeze from the open sliding doors carried the faint ringing of bells on the paravans. The room was filled with the village's most influential figures—the heads of the five main Takiyamura clans: Kageyama, Ota, Tanaka, Yamamoto, and Nakamura. They sat cross-legged around a low chabudai table on tatami mats, their voices subdued and hands resting on their knees, waiting in silence for the village head to speak.
Kageyama Tatsuya sat across from them at the back of the room, his arms crossed, posture straight, and expression unreadable. His dark hair, meticulously tied back, was streaked with silver only at the temples. Draped in a deep indigo silk kimono, the emblem of the Kageyama clan—a stylized momiji leaf over a cascading waterfall—was embroidered proudly on his chest, a reminder of his family's legacy.
Beside him sat Akira, his younger brother, visibly uneasy. Though younger by several years, Akira looked far older—his disheveled hair, unkempt beard, and slouched posture seemed to reflect the village's decline more accurately than Tatsuya’s composed demeanor.
The state of the village was grim. Worsening poverty and rising tensions had affected everyone, though no solution was in sight. But one issue appeared even more pressing to Tatsuya.
“We have the scrolls,” he began. “After our last sōdansho, we finalized the purchase contract with Sekikure. As you know, I do not take this decision lightly, but it’s the only way to bring money into Takiyamura.”
Tanaka Kenzo, the notably burly head of the Tanaka clan with scars crisscrossing his arms and neck, shifted uneasily on his mat. A staunch patriot and traditionalist, the situation left him visibly uncomfortable. He glanced toward Akira before bowing and addressing the room.
“Tatsuya-sama, I must protest once again,” he began cautiously. “These are our village’s secret jutsu. Selling them to outsiders... it’s dangerous.”
“I respectfully disagree,” Yamamoto Haruto, the tall, wiry leader of the Yamamoto clan, interjected. “Jutsu are of no use to us in our current state, Kenzo-san. The Yamamoto clan fully supports Tatsuya-sama’s efforts to restore the village’s wealth—by any means necessary.”
Haruto nodded respectfully toward Tatsuya, then turned his sharp gaze back to Kenzo. Kenzo lowered his eyes. The Yamamoto clan’s Kokoro no Jutsu—their infamous hypnotic technique—was well known. Even a moment of carelessness could leave one’s thoughts or emotions vulnerable. Best not to meet his eyes, Kenzo thought, looking away.
Tatsuya's eyes hardened, though his voice remained calm and conciliatory. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Kenzo-san,” he replied. “The village is suffering, and it is my duty as Takihonō to do whatever it takes to ensure its survival.”
Akira stirred uncomfortably, a conflicted expression crossing his face. “Mate kudasai, oniisan! There must be another way,” he said. “Selling old artifacts is one thing—but giving away our secret jutsu? It makes us look weak.”
Tatsuya turned to his brother, his gaze sharp. “The Sekigan wants everything. If we hold back, there’s no deal. So, tell me, otouto—do you have a better idea?”
Akira dropped his eyes, unable to respond. He knew the truth too well. Their father, the previous Takihonō, Kageyama Ryo, had left the village in financial ruin with poor decisions during the final years of his life. At seventy-five, Ryo had ignored repeated warnings about trade restrictions and mounting debt. Now, the burden of those choices rested on their shoulders.
“De wa, sore de kimari desu,” Tatsuya declared. “Does anyone else have objections?”
The room fell silent.
“Good,” Tatsuya continued. “Ota Yuzo has worked hard to secure this deal for us. Yuzo-san, our gratitude belongs to you and the Ota clan.”
Ota Yuzo, a stout man of fifty-five with a neatly groomed mustache he often twirled between his fingers, dipped his head respectfully.
“It was my honor, Tatsuya-sama. I will always do what is necessary for our village.”
Tatsuya returned the bow, then addressed the room. “Nakamura Yuki’s men will oversee the transport of the goods to Sekikure,” he said, nodding toward a man with a neatly trimmed beard and a muscular build.
Yuki met his gaze with a firm nod.
“With your sensory skills and mastery of Shikigami no Jutsu, you’re the ideal choice to ensure the passage is secure,” Tatsuya continued. “The delivery is scheduled for two months from now, once all materials and documents are prepared and copied. Sekikure will receive the originals. As for the missing scroll—once it’s recovered, we’ll be ready to proceed. The goods must reach their destination before winter breaks. Wakarimashita-ka?”
“Hai, Tatsuya-san. I will not fail you,” Yuki replied steadily. Despite his loyalty to the Kageyama clan, he harbored quiet reservations about Tatsuya’s recent decisions.
Tatsuya’s smile widened. Everything is falling into place, he thought, casting a glance around the room. His eyes lingered on Ota Yuzo, still bowing, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Ano kuso yarō, Tatsuya thought bitterly. That bastard. He’s the one profiting most from this deal. Not only does he get a cut from the sales, I’d bet Sekikure paid him generously for brokering it. I’ll have to deal with him later.
“Thank you all for attending,” Tatsuya announced. “I expect daily reports. We’ll reconvene next week.”
The elders began to rise, murmuring among themselves as they shuffled toward the exit. Ota Yuzo, however, lingered behind. His eyes gleamed with a cunning smile, but his movements were cautious as he approached Tatsuya.
“My lord,” Yuzo said in a hushed tone, bowing slightly. “May I have a private word with you? It concerns both you and Akira-san.”
Tatsuya nodded, gesturing for him to continue. Yuzo glanced briefly at Akira before speaking, choosing his words carefully.
“I see an opportunity for our families to strengthen our alliance,” he said. “As you know, my wife passed years ago, and I have been searching for a suitable consort. Your niece, Kageyama Mai, is nearing her coming of age, is she not? A marriage between her and myself would be mutually beneficial. It would solidify our clans’ bond and provide stability for the village’s future.”
Tatsuya’s face remained composed, but anger simmered beneath the surface. That greedy, conniving bastard. I didn’t see this coming. But... the Ota clan is wealthy and influential. This could be useful. Outwardly, he only nodded.
“A significant proposal,” he said calmly. “Yuzo-san, you are a strong leader, and our families have a long history of cooperation. Such a union could indeed benefit the village. However, it needs to be discussed within the family, with my brother and Mai herself.”
Akira’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. “Mai is only fifteen,” he said firmly. “When she comes of age, she deserves the right to choose her own path.”
Yuzo’s smile remained fixed as he bowed lower. “I understand your concern, Akira-san,” he replied smoothly. “But in these uncertain times, strong alliances are vital. I assure you, Mai will be treated with the utmost care and respect.”
Before Akira could respond, Tatsuya raised a hand, cutting him off. “We appreciate your offer, Yuzo-san,” he said evenly. “I will inform you of our decision soon.”
Tatsuya rose gracefully, signaling the end of the conversation, and left the room with Akira close behind. Yuzo straightened, his bow complete, and twirled his mustache with satisfaction as he watched them leave.
* * *
Mai’s face was still hot with anger and embarrassment. I can’t believe that idiot called me ugly. She glanced at her long black hair, brushing a strand behind her ear. It had been a petty insult by a childish boy who didn’t know any better, but it stung more than she cared to admit.
She had never considered herself beautiful, but she had always believed she was more than her looks. She was strong, capable, and trying to make a difference in the village—just as her grandfather Ryo had always encouraged her to be.
Her thoughts drifted to the gentle man he once was. Every year, after Hinamatsuri, he would ride out with her and stop near the Hero Stream to gather flowers for her mother. The festival would attract thousands to the province and leave the village glowing with lanterns, the scent of fresh mochi and Sakura petals lingering in the air.
Shortly after her mother’s death, something had changed in Grandpa. He was never the same, right up until the end. Losing him had left a hole in her heart—one she had yet to fill. Still, she was determined to honor his legacy and do what was right for the village.
Mai couldn’t shake the guilt that had settled in her chest. Hiro’s words had hit a nerve, making her question her understanding of the people’s struggles. She had always tried to help in her own way, but maybe she had been too sheltered—too removed from their reality.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. She didn’t know what to do, but one thing was clear—she couldn’t ignore the village’s suffering any longer.
With determination, Mai turned and headed back toward the estate. She didn’t know how yet, but one thing was certain—she wasn’t going to let Hiro’s words define her.
I’m not a spoiled princess, she told herself. I’m a Kageyama.
Akira (明 / 亮 / 晃) – Younger brother of Tatsuya; a given name meaning "bright" or "clear"
Ano kuso yarō (あのクソ野郎) – That damn bastard
chabudai (ちゃぶ台 / 茶部台) – Low traditional Japanese table
Chikushō (畜生) – Damn it
De wa, sore de kimari desu (では、それで決まりです) – Then, it is decided
Gomen nasai (ごめんなさい) – I'm sorry (formal)
Hinamatsuri (雛祭り) – Doll Festival / Girls’ Day, celebrated on March 3rd in Japan
Jutsu (術) – Technique / Skill
Kageyama (影山) – "Shadow mountain"
Kokoro no Jutsu (心の術) – Heart Technique / Mind Technique (fictional)
Mai (舞 / 麻衣) – Given name; can mean "dance" or "linen robe"
momiji (紅葉) – Japanese maple leaf
Nani (何) – What?
Oji-chan (おじちゃん / 伯父ちゃん / 叔父ちゃん) – Uncle / old man (affectionate)
oniisan (お兄さん) – Older brother (respectful)
otōto (弟) – Younger brother
sōdansho (相談書) – Council meeting / consultation document
Takihonō (滝本能) – Fictional or stylized title; “High Head of the Waterfall”
Takiyamura (滝山村) – The Waterfall and Mountain village
tatami (畳) – Traditional straw mats used as flooring in Japanese rooms
Tatsuya (達也 / 龍也) – Given name; tatsu (龍) meaning dragon, and ya (也 or 者) signifying good health or person
Wakarimashita-ka (分かりましたか) – Understood?
Yamamoto (山本) – “Base of the mountain”; a common family name
Yuki (雪 / 勇気 / 由紀 etc.) – Can mean "snow," "courage" given or family name
