Chapter 13: The Gjost

Three Weeks After Kiku’s Arrival

Sato was a ghost.

Kiku had been watching him for weeks now, and the man was maddeningly careful. He arrived at the palace for Thursday council meetings, disappeared into the Shogun’s private chambers, and left hours later without speaking to anyone else.

He had no regular patterns she could exploit. No predictable routes. No vulnerable moments.

Unlike Nakamura or Yoshida Kenji, Sato didn’t operate from a fixed location she could infiltrate. He didn’t visit teahouses or have identifiable habits. He simply appeared, conducted his business, and vanished.

Even his office in the east wing was inaccessible—guarded, locked when he wasn’t present, and he was rarely present.

Kiku had considered direct assault. Simply walking into a council meeting and killing him in front of the Shogun and his advisors.

But that was suicide. She’d be cut down before she got close. And she still didn’t know who Sato’s “lord” was—the one he’d reported to after her family’s murder. If she killed Sato without that information, the chain would end. The ultimate architect would escape.

No. She needed to be patient. To gather information. To find the opening.

But patience was becoming harder.

“You’re distracted today,” Hatsu observed.

They were in her chambers, ostensibly reviewing poetry, but Kiku’s mind was elsewhere. Calculating. Planning. Trying to figure out how to get close to a man who seemed to exist in shadows.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

“Nightmares again?”

Kiku had mentioned nightmares once—a useful excuse for the times her mask slipped, when grief or rage showed through despite her control. Hatsu had been sympathetic, understanding.

Too understanding. It made the deception harder.

“Yes. The same ones.”

Hatsu set down her book and moved closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I just need to...” Kiku stopped, searching for words. “I need to stop thinking about the past. Focus on the present.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Hatsu’s hand found hers—a gesture that had become common over the past weeks. Comfortable. Dangerous. “Grief doesn’t follow schedules. It comes when it wants.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, hands still joined. Kiku was acutely aware of the warmth, the gentleness. How different it was from every other touch in her life—her father’s corrections, combat training, violence.

This was soft. Caring.

Completely inappropriate for what she was planning.

“Hatsu,” Kiku said carefully. “Your father’s advisors. The ones who attend council meetings. Do you know them well?”

“Some better than others. Why?”

“I’m just curious about the palace politics. Understanding who has influence, who your father trusts.”

Hatsu’s expression shifted slightly—not suspicious, but thoughtful. “Are you trying to understand the power structures here? Figure out who’s dangerous?”

Smart girl. Too smart.

“Something like that. I’ve spent weeks in the palace now. I want to understand how things work.”

“Sato is the most influential,” Hatsu said, confirming what Kiku already knew. “My father trusts him absolutely. More than anyone else. He’s been my father’s chief strategist for years—arranges things, solves problems, makes difficulties disappear.”

Makes difficulties disappear. Like the Fujioka family.

“What kind of difficulties?”

“I don’t know specifics. My father doesn’t discuss business with me. But I’ve heard whispers. Political rivals who mysteriously lose influence. Families that fall from favor suddenly. Sato is ... efficient.”