Miyu leaves calligraphy class with a bemused wave to Kushina, making for the flower district. She’s visiting an Okiya today, another potential lead for the missing children. Thankfully, it’s located towards the edge of the district, and shouldn’t draw too much attention.

  Her meeting with the Hokage is tomorrow. The matriarch meeting will commence sometime early next week, apparently.

  The thought of Uchiha Mikoto makes her almost as nervous as the thought of the Hokage. The woman had fought for her clan – for control of it – for so long. She had gone so far as to hand pick Izumi, training her from a young age to rise to the task of becoming the matriarch.

  And Miyu had appeared, an outlier, seemingly grabbing at power and prestige that wasn’t for her. A sharp reminder of Mikoto’s own past.

  Miyu had unwittingly thrown fuel on the fire with her own handling of the situation, and the thought of it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She doesn’t like making blunders either on the board or off it, accidental or not.

  Kakashi has been out of the village for the past few days on a mission, and she uses the majority of the time to go through the boxes of clan documents.

  What she’s found so far has been… informative.

  There’s been plenty of paperwork, of course. Lists of clan territory and a record of their upkeep. No district, but several trades contracted to the clan. Blacksmiths, bakers, tailors, armourers, vets, gardeners.

  An extensive network of contacts, undoubtedly.

  And then, twenty-seven years ago, a slew of additional paperwork.

  Requested emancipations, breaking of contracts. A few notable trades – the smithy and the vet – had not filed any paperwork during the three-month period of requested abandonment.

  The clan head at the time – Kakashi’s father, Sakumo – had released all who had asked from the service of the Hatake. And then, half a year after that, he had broken all remaining contracts.

  The letter from the Hokage, expressing deep sympathies for the death of the previous clan head, is dated to three weeks after the last severed tie.

  Miyu had found herself blinking through stinging eyes at the realisation of what Hatake Sakumo had done.

  Kakashi, gods. He must have been, what? Five? Six?

  Towards the bottom of the box, a scrap of paper, looking as though it’d been torn from somewhere, half-crumpled, with a corner singed and crumbling as though it’d been very nearly burnt to a crisp.

  A few sentences, written in a steady, neat hand.

  I hereby pass the mantle of our clan to my son, Kakashi, in hopes that he will bring pride to our name and our village.

  My son, do not fail as I have. You are perhaps the one unerringly good thing I have brought into this world. I love you. I believe in you. I’m sorry, Kakashi.

  It’s old, and the ink is marred only by tiny, circular splatters, long dried.

  Tears, Miyu realised. She wonders briefly if they belonged to Sakumo, or Kakashi.

  She didn’t cry for him as she went through the rest of the box. Countless scrolls, invitations from the Hokage and other clan heads to Kakashi.

  All unopened and unread, until Miyu.

  She had broken the wax on them herself, unfurling stiff parchment to read faded ink.

  After that she did some digging. What she found was sickening.

  A man, refusing to leave his comrades behind.

  A man, blamed for starting a war that was inevitable anyway.

  A man, the head of a noble house, shunned by the village he so loved.

  Hatake Sakumo had not been out of his mind when he taken his own life. He had – gods – he had planned for it. Settled his accounts, released clan retainers and contractors. Left his young son a note.

  Where had his friends been? Who had supported the head of this noble clan in his time of need?

  Even now it makes fury, cold and unsettling, curl in her gut.

  Konoha is just like anywhere else in the world. Full of people, wanting to live. It comes with all that humans do. Life, goodness, warmth, culture. Politics, hierarchy, rumours, corruption.

  As she steps into the entrance of the Okiya, she allows herself a small sigh.

  Shogi has never been as temperamental as people. She misses it with a sharp ache – though that could be the familiar architecture of the Okiya.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  It’s been almost half a year now, since she had last been in one. It’s not the same as her home had been – this one is newer, with more statement art, and a pretty attendant rather than a Mother to greet you.

  Thankfully the geisha are waiting for her as they break for lunch. Miyu is seated at the table with them, and they exchange brief greetings.

  “I was sent here by Eri-san on Hyacinth Avenue,” she tells the two geisha and their maiko, “regarding some interesting talk she heard at the winter festival.”

  “Oh?” the geisha aren’t wearing makeup, nor is their hair done. Today must be a training day, or a rest day between clients. “And what kind of talk might this be?”

  Miyu lets the pleasant, polite smile slide off her face.

  “A geisha, gone missing in autumn.”

  The women share a look.

  “Naomi-san wasn’t from our Okiya,” says the one directly opposite Miyu. Her hair is a lovely shade of chestnut brown, and her eyes are a pretty dark blue. “She was from Daffodil Street.”

  “But you knew her?” Miyu prods gently, taking a sip of her tea.

  “I did…” she trails off, and then shifts uncomfortably. “She was… getting serious, you see. With someone that Mother didn’t approve of. Some clan bastard with not enough money or prestige to be her danna.”

  Miyu nods, understanding.

  “There’s talk they ran away together,” the maiko pipes up softly. She keeps her head down, staring absently into her cup. “But I heard that Hideo-san went mad when she couldn’t be found, and Reina-san told me he left the village to look for her.”

  They sit in silence for a moment, and Miyu carefully turns her question over in her head before asking it.

  “If you were Naomi-san,” she begins, meeting dark blue eyes across the table, “and you had a lover – an illegitimate clan-born man – what would you do?”

  The geisha opposite her averts her gaze to the table between them.

  “I don’t know,” her voice is faint, “but – Naomi-san loved to party. The last time I saw her, we were competing for suitors at an event. She… didn’t partake in the drinking game our patrons requested we play.”

  Ah. Miyu’s lips press into a line.

  “I hope she fled. It’s a dangerous time to be in this profession.” Is all the geisha says. She resumes eating, clearly done sharing for the day.

  After another sip of tea, Miyu shifts her attention to the other geisha. This one has inky black hair and rather plain brown eyes. She’s pretty, with dark, full lashes and pouty lips.

  “And you?” Miyu keeps her approach light.

  “I arrived in Konoha after the woman went missing,” her voice is low, scratchy. It’s oddly pleasant on the ears, and Miyu can see this geisha having many admirers. “I’ve only recently gotten settled here.”

  “Where did you come from?” she asks politely, careful not to show too much interest.

  The dark-haired woman hesitates for a moment before replying.

  “The capital.”

  Tightness, around her throat, her chest.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Miyu is glad her voice remains level, “what brought you here?”

  The geisha scoffs, and it’s a rough, unrefined sound.

  “The question isn’t what brought me here. It’s what drove me away.”

  Her lips curl into a superficial half-smile, “As she said. It’s a dangerous time to be a geisha.”

  Miyu stays for only a few more minutes, but the women have obviously shared as much as they are willing to today. She pays them directly, and then leaves some money for the Mother.

  As she puts her shoes on in the entranceway, she hears the geisha talking from the kitchen.

  “…tomorrow night,” she recognises the husky tones of the dark-haired one.

  “Really?” the voice of the one with the deep blue eyes sounds, exasperated, “but we were with him last night!”

  “Suck it up,” the dark-haired one sounds amused, “they’re loyal patrons.”

  “Ugh, Tomoe-chan, let a girl complain for once, will you?”

  Tomoe.

  From the capital.

  Tomoe.

  Miyu forces herself through the last motions of putting her shoes on. She stands, exits the building. A cheap imitation – compared to Nanami, at least. She can see it now. The rough expressions, the carelessness. Pretty on the surface, but without refined grace only honed through years of practice and dedication.

  Gods, it’s too much. A geisha, Nanami’s would-be competitor, fleeing from the capital?

  Has the tale of the arrogant shogi mistress and her unfortunate family caused such unrest? Is it the Daimyo, hunting down anyone with possible links to her or their Okiya?

  The possibilities send her reeling. She almost doesn’t hear the chatter around her on the way back home.

  “…got it for me as a gag, but holy shit it’s amazing!”

  “-dynamic between Hitachi and Takashi that just screams dom-sub-”

  “-gods, how did you get your hands on it? Every copy has been sold out, I had to go on the next backorder!”

  It takes her a few moments to realise that they’re talking about Kakashi’s book. It’s no surprise, she is walking through a shopping district, but she shakes herself out of her stupor to pay attention to the various conversations around her.

  Stopping at a fountain, Miyu takes a seat, and pulls out her notebook. As she makes notes – in a shogi-based code – on her discussion with the geisha, she listens.

  “-didn’t like Miku at first, to be honest, but she really grew on me.” A group of young women are sitting not far from her on a bench, sipping at thermoses of tea. Shopping bags of various colours sit haphazardly on the ground between them.

  “Really? I liked her from the start! For a woman written by a male author, I think he does a really good job of making her seem more than just a vehicle for patriarchal desires.”

  “Oh, for sure! I love the way he takes time to flesh her out, describing her constant composure and the few moments that it seems to slip.”

  Miyu lets herself smile, hiding it behind the notebook.

  “Hitachi is so well written, too. He’s torn between his duty and his heart, and somehow he’s just bad enough at communication to cause a mess of it.”

  “Definitely,” a sigh, “I hope we get a prequel detailing the backstory of Hitachi and Takashi. They’re such interesting characters, and they obviously have a lot of history.”

  “Um – excuse me?”

  Miyu glances up to watch a middle-aged man address the women on the bench.

  “I’m terribly sorry to impose… I just – I heard you discussing Romance among the leaves and I wanted to know what you both think about the hints in the onsen scene?”

  There are a few seconds of silence.

  “You mean the ones about Takashi?” Asks one of the women, cautious.

  “That, but also-” the man rubs at the back of his neck, “while Miku and Hitachi are there, Takashi is seemingly on watch – but we heard a sound on the other side of the partition, which I don’t think was Takashi.”

  “Oh?” the women seem interested now, “I just assumed – oh, but you’re right! Takashi was watching the travellers pass by to the east, which is at the entrance of the onsen!”

  “So, who do you think it was?” the other woman asks, face open and curious.

  “I have a few theories,” the man says, “first, the competitor from Tea. They’d have to pass through that town in order to make it to the tournament, and we’ve heard worryingly little about them due to the main conflict with the Lightning competitor. Second, the…"

  Miyu stands and makes for home. She’d intended to read the book in her own time – which right now, is consumed with other tasks – but it might have to be prioritised. It sounds… interesting. And to have gained such a following, in such a short time?

  Kakashi will surely be ecstatic when he returns from his mission.