Hadjia reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can do it, Renji.”
Kaneko peered around the other side of the tree, then retreated, eyes wide. “He’s here! He just stepped outside,” Kaneko hissed, so quietly Hadjia almost couldn’t hear it. Renji and Hadjia leaned in closer. All the color left Renji’s face.
“You know what to do, Renji,” Kaneko said, retreating fully behind the tree. She unsheathed her knife. It was a simple, double-edged thing with folded steel and a spiral handle for a better grip. Renji nodded, his face all rigid lines and flaring nostrils.
“The Mother will be exceedingly pleased with your work once this house is taken care of,” Kaneko continued. “Remember — leave as little trace as possible. You’ve been trained and passed on the goats. It’s no different here. Humans are the same as animals.”
“Animals,” he murmured. After this utterance, Renji glanced to Hadjia.
She felt a little curl of pleasure. Although younger than Kaneko, she’d killed more than anyone in the Red Moon School. If Renji should look to anyone, it was her. She nodded once.
“We can’t help you, Renji,” she said. “You must do this on your own.”
“I don’t expect it.”
“One stroke. Here.” Hadjia pointed to her neck, withdrew her own knife, and had it in her palm almost before he’d registered what happened. “Turn the point of the blade down. The blood will fill their chest faster. Cut from the side for them to bleed faster. Down the front to stop them from screaming.”
She stuck the knife into the soft, rotting layer of a nearby tree. It went in at a smooth angle. Renji stared at it, his fingers twitching. She met his gaze.
“They’ll only feel pain for a short time,” Hadjia promised.
“I am not one-hit-Hadjia,” he fretted. “What if the knife misses?”
“You don’t have to be Hadjia. Make the Mother proud, and that is enough,” Kaneko said.
For some reason, Kaneko’s words made Renji’s shoulders relax back.
“He is outside, around the front of the house, and sitting down,” Kaneko said. “Now, Renji, is your chance to prove your worth to Mother and the Red Moon School.”
He drew in a deep breath through his nose, palmed his knife, and stood. As soon as he left the safety of the dense woods, Kaneko and Hadjia crouched next to each other, watching from its depths. With their slight bodies, short-cropped hair, and slender frames, they could have been mistaken for sisters. The only difference between them was that Hadjia had dark eyes, while Kaneko’s were blue.
“Think he can do it?” Kaneko asked.
“He must.”
They watched from the tree line, following Renji’s quiet progression along the side of the house. From inside, the tinny clatter of pots and pans rang through the air. A little girl said something and then shrieked with laughter. Only shadows shifted through the windows in the faltering twilight. Renji peered around the corner of the house. The man hadn’t moved. He rested in a chair, staring out, his back to them.
This would be almost too simple.
After taking a long breath, Renji sprang into action. The man’s head jerked up, and he only had time to register Renji’s presence before the knife, with a sharp crack, slammed into his neck with terrifying force.
The man’s limbs flailed as he gurgled. Renji drove the knife deeper without a sound before pulling the weapon from the wound and forcing the man to the ground. The man’s flailing eventually slowed, subsiding into mere twitches. The wound spilled crimson blood, flowing down his chest with bubbling gurgles. Renji didn’t even take time to clean his knife before disappearing inside the home.
Kaneko and Hadjia slipped out of the forest, moving silently along the ground until they made it to the door. Ignoring the man’s body, they too darted inside.
From the looks of it, Renji had already neutralized the woman. She lay glassy-eyed and gasping for air on a dirt floor.
A shadow disappeared into the back. Kaneko nodded to Renji. Hadjia followed him. A little cry drew them toward the disappearing shadow. They pursued the sound and stumbled upon Renji standing in the middle of a small room littered with toys belonging to a small child. On the floor lay a doll. The little girl reached for it, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Her lip quivered. Renji hesitated, blood dripping down his blade and over his knuckles.
With a guttural cry, he drew his arm back and advanced. Kaneko reached out, grabbing his shoulder. She shook her head once.
“No.” She gestured to the little girl, who shrank away into the corner. “She is too young. Still innocent.”
The little girl’s tremors increased. Her entire body shook as she stepped farther into the corner, trying to fit her little body in the awkward space. The metallic smell of blood filled the room, easing Hadjia’s nerves. It was the smell of accomplishment, approval. She glanced at the droplets of blood littering the floor and lifted her eyes to Renji, who trembled almost as much as the little girl.
“Well done,” Hadjia said. “Mother will be pleased.”
The fear left his eyes. He blinked. “The woman?”
“Gone.”
Kaneko pulled him back, thwarting his advance toward the little girl. “Leave the girl to her nightmare. We must return and report to Mother that you have passed your Mukatan. Come, Renji. Leave this behind you. There is nothing here for you now.”
He passed through the doorway leading out first, his shoulders falling back. Kaneko followed. Hadjia, who was last, glanced back to see the little girl. She was standing there, a thumb in her mouth, and a tear trailing down her face.
Ren
The land of Anpu unfurled like the tender wings of a butterfly.
Equally elegant and dignified-looking on all sides, it lay in quiet repose. Bubbling brooks cut through the verdant hills, giving way to an occasional mountain and rift. Across the lush landscape, past the mountains, lay the capital city of Nagon. The palace of Alka Qun, constructed from sheets of precious marble and glittering azure balak crystals, jutted high into the sky. The rare, delicate gems spiraled up the outer facade of the palace, making it shimmer in the bright daylight.
A well-trodden cobblestone road began at the palace and branched out in perfect lines, breezing past classy buildings made from precious stone and flanged roofs. A stream drifted through the middle of town, singing a low song as it rolled. Boughs, heavy with fresh fruit, proliferated from rooftop gardens. Ivy bounded over the walls, trailing along latticed woodworks and engulfing the buildings in curtains of emerald.
But no place exhibited the same elegance as the grand interior of the Alka Qun palace, where artisans, poets, and musicians had lined the halls with their work, songs and words.
Paintings decorated nearly every wall. Music played all hours of the day. And before dinner, poets recited lyrical words, bringing harmony to the table and the ruling family.
Inside the sprawling dining room, a crowd of six milled around a table bursting with food, drink, and crystal. Food abounded on a side table. There were rice balls flecked with mushrooms and deep sea bass that gently simmered in herb-infused butter. Cabbage leaves stuffed with purple rice released a heady scent that permeated the air.
Voices rose and fell in between quiet bursts of laughter.
“We will have power,” said Danjuro, the ruler of the Nari nation, while speaking to Raizen, his younger brother. “The marriage between Ren and Isao is the only way for the Nari Clan to finally lead as we were meant to do. It will usher in our time. We will prevail.”
“Agreed brother,” said Raizen. “While you are gone, I will take care of everything here. It’s in good hands.”