Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I was sixteen the first time I saw my father’s ritual in lifting the curse.
My father had been at war with the Inagawa-kai, led then by Fujioka—a man who wore a necklace strung with his dead father’s finger bones and kept a pit of starving dogs beneath his home, feeding them only the flesh of his enemies.
Rumor had it that the dogs’ howls seeped up through the floorboards at night, keeping his wife awake for weeks. When her pleas to silence them became too much, Fujioka answered by tossing her into the pit.
They say her screams were instantly swallowed by the dogs’ hunger.
Under Fujioka, the Inagawa-kai abandoned the old gambling dens and moved their power to the ports, taxing every shipment that came in from the south. Their men were always dressed in dark coats that were embroidered with a single silver wave. They struck only at night and left their enemies’ bodies tied to mooring posts at low tide.
To my father, they were vermin that needed to be exterminated immediately.
In the Fox’s war room, a man knelt in front of us, crying and begging for his life. Five other men held him down.
Father pointed a knife at the pleading man. “A new war room’s floor must be christened with violence, its veins fed with blood. If not. . .the empire will rot from the inside out.”
I swallowed.
Father held a knife just inches from the pleading man’s face. “Would you like to do the honor, Kenji?”
I widened my eyes. “M-me?”
Jobon frowned on the other side of us. “Father, I do not think Kenji needs to be in here. He’s a teen, but still young. Mother would not be pleased.”
“This is our way.” Father shook his head. “He must see this and your mother is a woman. There is no place for a woman’s presence or voice in war.”
“Yes, Father.” Jobon gave a slow bow. “However, Kenji will not be a part of our world. I believe that he should be spared—”
“No one knows the future, son.” Father turned back to me. “Take the knife, Kenji.”
“No, Father.” My voice shook. I was close to pissing myself. “I. . .don’t want to do it.”
Father let out a disappointing breath. “I fear your mother has ruined you.”
Completely ashamed, I lowered my gaze to the floor.
He looked past me and put his focus on his desk. There, Hiro sat on top, munching on candy. He must have been thirteen then. Since I’d known that I would see him that day, I’d brought him a big bag of Konpeitō and surprised him.
Father shook his head. “Hiro? Can you put the bag of candy down long enough to participate?”
Hiro popped a small pink ball into his mouth, chewed once, and hopped off the desk. He didn’t let go of the bag of candy. He just walked up to the kneeling man and started whistling an unnerving tune.
My heartbeat picked up.
Whistling louder, Hiro took the knife from our father’s hand and with no hesitation, he drew the blade across the man’s neck. So fast, I hadn’t been able to blink.
The sound was wet, the spray immediate.
The man gurgled and sagged forward.
I desperately wanted to look away, but knew if I did, Father would yell.
Softening his tune, Hiro slapped the bloodied knife back into our father’s palm.
Droplets landed on Father’s sleeve.
For the first time ever, I saw the Fox recoil.
And with that, Hiro turned on his heel, walked back to the desk, and jumped onto it with the same casual grace as before. A second later, he was popping more candy into his mouth with now bloody fingers.
Jobon stared at him, startled like he’d just seen something in our brother he hadn’t accounted for.
I was shocked too. But somewhere in me, I knew Hiro had it in him.
Our father stood there longer than necessary, looking at Hiro. His expression wasn’t simple approval—it was a tangle of awe, disgust, and something colder.
Fear.
I returned my thoughts to the present.
How odd that my Tiger’s little challenge with Kiko had gotten me to initiate the forgotten ritual.
Fed stone wins wars.
I smiled to myself.
Thank you, Tora.
I pulled off my black shirt. Too much blood had sprayed all over it, making the fabric soaked. Air cooled my damp skin. My muscles eased under the temperature shift, but the faint stickiness of blood still clung to my chest and arms.
Yoichi approached me with a dark gray towel.
I gave him my shirt, took the towel, and wiped the blood from my hands. The towel grew darker with each pass across my palms and knuckles. “Dismiss the Fangs and Scales. I want every man fed and asleep within the hour.”
Yoichi nodded. “And the Claws?”
I checked them.
Hiro now sat in a chair next to my desk with one leg hooked lazily over the armrest, as he twirled a new lollipop in his hand. This one was white and sparkling blue. Upon seeing me watching him, he popped the lollipop in his mouth and his jaw worked slow on the candy. Meanwhile, his eyes—half-lidded and sharp—never left me.