"Mai-dono…!"
The voice was a low rasp, familiar and subservient. Just beyond the shoji screen, the spy remained on one knee, his fingertips grazing the polished wood.
"So, what did you find out about that boy?" a soft, feminine voice drifted from within.
Through the thin paper of the screen, a delicate silhouette shifted. A plume of fragrant smoke rose into the air, curling like a ghost toward the rafters.
"About that… I couldn't find anything unusual. Aside from possessing some raw talent in the spiritual arts, he appears to be completely normal."
"Mmmmm... you don't say?" The Madam paused, the silhouette of her pipe tilting. "Continue keeping a close eye on the Academy. Report everything, even the smallest ripple. Go."
"Yes, Ma'am."
With a faint rustle of silk, the spy vanished into the night.
"Huuuuuu."
The Madam exhaled a long, heavy cloud of smoke that lingered in the stagnant air of the room. She turned her gaze toward the man sitting opposite her, a towering, silent figure known as Nue.
Nue's appearance was as striking as it was unsettling. A grey ribbon was tied firmly over both his eyes, and his spiky grey hair, streaked with shocks of bone-white, flowed down to his broad shoulders. Though he was blindfolded, he moved with absolute grace, drinking his Sake.
"What do you think, Nue?" she asked, her voice losing its playful edge.
Nue remained silent for a long moment, his head tilting slightly as if listening to the vibration of the smoke.
"It is strange," he finally spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. "Everything seems to check out on paper. But there were those two days… when his messages stopped. They are trained to kill themselves as soon as there is a chance for them to be exposed."
He shifted his weight, the floorboards groaning under his bulk. "On the surface, it seems like he fought and hid. But I cannot shake this feeling that something is different about Shinko."
"Oh? So, you sensed it too," the lady mused, her voice trailing off as she toyed with her pipe. "When I used Rukan on him, his mind felt... blurred. Like a desert mirage. And yet, he faced one of the guardian spirits and walked away with his life."
She looked toward the blindfolded giant, Nue. "How about this? Let's send someone to properly scout the situation. I feel a little uneasy with that old Fujiwara monster there."
"A wise course of action," Nue replied, his voice a low vibration in the small room.
The woman stood up with a fluid, cat-like grace and draped herself over Nue's broad shoulders. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and she leaned in to press a lingering kiss against his cheek, leaving a sharp, crimson stain of lipstick against his pale skin.
"Nue... you are the best among them," she whispered, her voice honeyed. "I remember when you were just a tiny thing, brought to me by my husband. And now? You've become such a magnificent asset."
She pressed her chest against his back, and her soft hands flowed, touching Nue's boy from his chest to his abs.
"I live only to serve you, Mistress," Nue responded. His voice was deep, elegant, and perfectly practised as if he had been reciting that single vow every day of his life.
…..
While the shadows plotted in the Capital, the reality at the Academy Training Grounds was far less elegant.
"AGAIN!"
The instructor's voice boomed like a crack of thunder across the courtyard. He was a mountain of a man, scarred by a lifetime of war. He possessed only one arm and one eye; the empty socket was held shut by a jagged line of black stitches that looked like a centipede crawling across his face.
"Tch... this bastard," Yorimitsu thought, his muscles screaming in protest. A pool of sweat had formed on the stone beneath his feet, dripping from his chin as he held a heavy wooden practice sword. "Even the old hag wouldn't be this cruel."
He gritted his teeth and swung the heavy wood in a perfect, punishing downward stroke, his body vibrating from the sheer repetition of the drill.
The exercise had begun before the first light of dawn. Thousands upon thousands of swings, the rhythmic whoosh of wood cutting through the air echoing across the grounds. Under normal circumstances, Yorimitsu's stamina would have held, but these practice swords were not merely wood.
The blades were embedded with a new mechanism that siphoned the user's Reiryoku, converting spiritual energy directly into mass. Because Yorimitsu possessed an abundance of spiritual energy compared to the other recruits, his sword had become a leaden anchor nearly twice as heavy as anyone else's. Every strike felt like he was swinging a mountain.
Opposite him, Watanabe no Tsuna continued his own drills with a relentless form, never shaking.
"Tch... he's a difficult one," Yorimitsu thought, his muscles twitching with fatigue. "Every time I try to strike up a conversation, he shuts me out. I need to investigate him. There must be a way to get him to my side."
The practice dragged on for two more hours. The sun rose, baking the sweat into their skin. Around Yorimitsu, the younger recruits began to falter. A blade would clatter to the ground every two swings. This was followed immediately by the blurred shadow of the Commander.
Each time a sword fell, the one-armed instructor appeared instantly, his small rod striking the heels of the recruit with enough force to send them sprawling.
"Take an incense stick's worth of time," the instructor finally boomed, turning away with a bored expression.
With a single, effortless leap, the massive man landed atop a tree branch. The wood groaned and bowed slightly under his weight, but held.
"Youth these days... they have no drive," the elder muttered to himself, reaching for a stained brown gourd at his waist. He tossed his head back, taking a deep, long draught of the bitter liquid within.
"Ahhhhh..." He exhaled, wiping his mouth with the back of his scarred hand.
He looked down at the panting recruits below, his one eye narrowing with a hint of pity. "If we continue at this pace, they won't be ready for their first mission. I suppose... I will have to teach them the Way of Breath."