Prologue

In a blanket of snow, the burial mounds looked no different than they had three years ago. Yet in the time that had passed, it felt like a great quake had destroyed and remade the world anew. Even my name is different now, Ryugoro thought.

Staring at the large mound that concealed his father's bones, he whispered, "Finally, I am a man too."

He had come to the sacred grounds to escape the wails of the new baby. For certain now, Ryugoro was no longer the youngest member of his household. But he did not expect to lose his place at the bottom of the family tree just yet. It was not his recent genpuku that had taken his beloved maid from him.

No, it was a babe. A babe nobody could say belonged to whom.

Officially, it was declared to be his cousin Nakanobu's bastard. But the household whispered. Even the walls seemed to creek with suspicion.
None had seen the mother. There was no mother. And Ryugoro could not help but wonder where his sister had gone. His cousin Suzu had also vanished.

Both Nakanobu and his father, Nakayori, behaved like the evil spirits the maid had warned him about. The Furuyama clan had their own codes of honour and tradition that differed from the other nobles in the Ten Provinces. Men did not sire children with other clan members. They always wed outside of the family.

The Furuyama absorbed other clans. They grew. They did not stunt or grow inwards.

Though he was a mere child at the time of his father's death, Haruyuki knew no man more honourable than him.

"What would you think of us now, father?" he lamented.

What would you think of me? What would you think of your brother scheming? Of your sons divided and scattered? Of your great clan fighting each other? Or of dear Ryutaro in the earth beside you?

He turned to his eldest brother's grave. The brother he had scarcely known, but loved all the same. How I wish you were here to call me Haruyuki. I have my zokumyō and nanori now. We are finally a complete set of men grown.

Things were not supposed to be this way. Ryutaro was supposed to be the one to lead the clan. To protect it and be destined for great things.

Ryugoro had only just seen the end of his fourth summer when the sword butchered Ryutaro's neck and the blood splattered on Nakayori's face.The execution was so unholy the Mountain had cursed them all. That's what the priest had screamed before he too lost his head.

The clearest memory Ryugoro had of his early childhood was of Ryujiro telling him to watch as his dug and filled in the grave before him now.

And then, he too was gone with the winter winds. 
Ryugoro pondered at the thought of his brother. His enemy, as his uncle and remaining brothers would remind me.

Did you stand here this time last year? Did you remember all those days we were all together?

Despite being an adult now, he seemed to have more questions than ever. Ryujiro was the same age Ryugoro is when their father and brother died. He wished there was a way to reach him and say, "I am on your side."

But maybe Ryujiro was not as great as he Ryugoro thought he was. After all, he had lost the Mountain no sooner than he had seized it. Yet the madness that had possessed his brother was surely still better than Ryusaburo's brutish mess and Nakayori's anger.

As he walked down the stone steps back towards the estate, Ryugoro thought that – as a man now – he should make his own way to the capital to seek out his brother. It would be so easy to slip away. No one would even notice he was gone.

Stopping to splash ice water from the stream onto his face, he made his decision.

Tonight.

His sword would be proof of his identity. Its elegent engravings marked it as part of this father's famed collection.

And if it all went wrong, at least he would not have been slain by his own kin. One less curse on their family.

The stream trickled quickly and loudly over the rocks, but he still heard the crunching of snow. The distant sound of human feet creeping up on him.
With one hand on the hilt of his sword, Haruyuki rose slowly. And then, he ran.

At this height the mountainside was not too steep, but the slope was still not gentle. srse, the now and ice could easily turn the path deadly. Speed was not his forte, Ryugoro's instructors had all pointed out.
This was the worst possible place to be chased. The forest was dense, the sun beating down strong through the bare branches. It took everything in him not to turn around to learn his pursuer's identity.

Ryugoro wanted to think it was one of his brothers or cousins. But his gut instinct was screaming otherwise. Someone was trespassing on the Mountain, and that someone wanted him dead.

At twelve years old, he was intimately familiar with bloodlust. And in the last three years it seemed to be everywhere. No place was safe anymore. He had been glad to be home, glad to finally have his overdue coming of age ceremony.
The reclamation of your captured lands was supposed to be celebratory, yet the entire clan seemed on edge with one another. Like they were all one second from killing each other. Even the mysterious infant felt like it had a chokehold on his neck.

As he darted through the gaps between the conifers, his breathing turned rapid. He had walked this route a thousand times, but never had it felt this long.

When Ryugoro heard the distant sound of a katana leaving its scabbard, his heart felt as though it would burst through his chest. The thick build up of sweat on his hand caused him to drop his own blade.

It's a good thing, he tries to convince himself. It was only weighing me down.

He thought back to how Ryusaburo had laughed at him when he bestowed it upon him. The steel was too heavy for his still growing body. The hilt too long for his boyish hands.

It was tempting to shed a layer of his clothing. Although the air was cold and thin up here, it felt hot and humid. He thought he might faint. The footsteps behind him sounded closer — louder. He could feel the other person's body behind him. He wanted to stumble, to fall and let the slope pull him down the mountain.

But Ryugoro could not let himself give up. Even if his body felt like it was on fire. Like his lungs were ready to burst. He had to stay on his feet. He must keep running.