Chapter 63 Reunion
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
A few days later.
In the end, it never became a tea gathering.
It was decided that meeting Kaede-san somewhere public would be safer, so we chose the rest area in that same park.
There, men returning from afternoon tea often passed by; nothing reckless could happen. Sometimes, strangers even struck up idle conversation — it had that kind of openness.
After a long discussion between Crybaby-san from Foreign Affairs and the liaison from the other side, we agreed: better to meet under open sky than in a closed room, where tension might turn to resentment or worse.
The meeting began around noon.
Kaede-san’s condition was—terrible.
She wore the usual Imperial Guard jinbei layered with a crisp white uniform, but despite the neatness, her face had fallen into ruin. Her cheeks were hollow, hair and skin frayed, lips cracked and bloodless. She looked ten years older — like a beggar woman, silver strands catching the light.
Until today, she had no idea what had become of me. If I’d died, it would have been on the front page, so she must’ve known I lived — but little else. Only rumors that I’d lingered between life and death.
More than a week had passed since she’d wounded me.
I regretted it — not checking on her sooner. If we’d left her alone any longer, she might’ve wasted away completely.
When she saw me arrive in a wheelchair, the shock nearly undid her. Had we met in private, she’d have dropped to her knees again, I’m sure.
”Come on, Kaede. Stand up.”
”My fault… it’s all—”
”You’ve got nothing to do with His Lordship’s injuries,” Kiri-san said gently beside her. “I understand being shaken after seeing someone dear in that state, but don’t lose yourself.”
Kiri-san was there, along with Natsume-san — both looking unexpectedly composed. Maybe because there were men around, they’d cleaned up well. No stench of liquor or tobacco, no glazed eyes or trembling lips.
”Kaede-chan, you haven’t slept a night since then,” Natsume-san coaxed. “But look, he’s kind. You can see it in his face. It’ll be all right.”
”…Yes.”
”Just talk. He’ll understand.”
As I rolled closer, Kaede-san sat down on a nearby bench. We’d arranged it this way at my request, but to anyone passing by, it could’ve looked like a chance encounter.
The rest area was a cluster of long benches beneath a simple shade — an azumaya, as they call it.
My Imperial Guards formed a wall behind me: Sow-san, the bodyguard; Trash-san, the psionic; the so-called Vocal Slut-san; and the small but fierce Flat-chested one. That was my entire fighting force.
Kaede’s side had four — herself, her two squadmates, and what seemed to be an intelligence officer shadowing them.
She sat alone, while the others watched from a short distance.
Earlier, the little Flatty had caused a small incident. Worried and exhausted from the past days, she’d been so overwhelmed by relief upon seeing me that she… slapped my cheek.
Apparently, she’d been inspired by Trash-san, who once slapped me to snap me out of shock — a story that became some sort of heroic anecdote among them. She’d panicked, she said later, her body just moved on its own. I hadn’t understood what was happening either.
Of course, everyone pummeled her afterward. She’s attending today’s meeting covered in bruises, and Trash-san refused to make her any medicine.
”Just wait,” I muttered.
”Eep!”
Even now she stood behind me, trembling between Sow-san and Trash-san’s shadows.
But enough of that heartwarming nonsense. Today was about Kaede-san.
”It’s been a while,” I said. “You’ve lost so much weight.”
”There are many things I must say to Your Lordship.”
”There’s nothing, really. Nothing to thank me for, nothing to apologize for.”
”…”
No one must ever know that she was the one who attacked me. If my Guards learned that truth, they’d kill her instantly.
When I made that clear, Kiri-san and Natsume-san, watching from afar, both exhaled in visible relief. They must’ve known some part of the story.
”I was worried about you, you know.”
”I am not worth such concern…”
”Our first meeting was strange, sure. But honestly, I’d do it again. I was glad to meet you, Kaede-san. I still am.”
”Ah… such words are wasted on me.”
”No, really. Thank you for coming back alive from that battlefield.”
I couldn’t risk saying more. With so many ears nearby, this half-public arrangement was the best we could do.
”I called you today to see how you’re doing—and because I owed you a visit.”
My chest tightened seeing her like that. Do women truly fall to pieces like this, after hurting a man? She seemed a shadow of her former self, fragile enough to vanish. If I didn’t say something now, I feared she might end her life once she returned home.
Her lips quivered under her teeth. My words must’ve hit too hard—but maybe that was for the best.
After all, she’d once been intimate with me, then nearly beat me to death. And yet, I told her I was glad we’d met.
If that could be her salvation, so be it.
She really had been… incredible, after all.
”Are you feeling all right?”
”My health is of no consequence. Your wounds—”
”Oh, those? They’ll heal. No lasting damage.”
”How pitiful. I curse the villain who harmed you. May they burn in hell.”
”I see.”
”Yes.”
Her body trembled; fists clenched so tight her knuckles whitened.
By sparing her, I’d confirmed what she now understood — that my Imperial Guards knew nothing of what truly happened that day in the dungeon.
For her, being summoned today must have felt like a death sentence. No matter the reason, a woman who lays a hand on a man can expect retribution.
”I heard you were on a tough mission,” I said quietly. “Ichimatsu mentioned it didn’t go well.”
But what I really wanted to ask about was the infiltration. Ichimatsu said it failed—but was that my fault? I’d have to circle the question carefully, without alerting the ears around us.
”He… he was worried about you, Kaede-san. I mean—he seemed to know you weren’t doing well.”
”So you met him.”
”Yeah. It’s a shame. I think there were a lot of reasons it went wrong.”
I was probing, asking without asking: was I the cause?
Her calm eyes flickered with understanding. She caught my meaning.
”…If I may,” she said softly. “Would you care to hear a small tale of merit?”
”A story of your deeds in the war? I’d like that. It’ll make good talk for the next tea party.”
”Then it may bore you, but very well.”
She drew a breath and began.
For a man to listen to a noblewoman—or a heroine—recount her achievements was a mark of proper etiquette. You encouraged them. You cheered.
Kaede had her flaws, but when she spoke with me, her mind cleared for a moment. Like a patient whose lucidity returns only when family visits. It made me sad. Maybe she’d once been brilliant.
She told me about that dungeon infiltration from her own perspective. Of course, she softened the details—any classified parts, any cruelty—so I wouldn’t hear too much blood.
In her version, killing townsfolk became righteous justice, punishing villains. Interrogations ended with repentance and grateful confession.
”…At the end, we allowed the townspeople to escape,” she admitted.
”All of them?”
”We’d just finished our work and grew careless. They slipped away, back to town, unharmed.”
”I might’ve let my guard down too,” I murmured.
She understood what I truly wanted to know.
”But that too was mercy,” she said. “I let them go. Perhaps they’re shivering under their futons now, thankful for their lives.”
So they’d made it home safely, just as I’d hoped. Good.
”In the end,” she added, “only one townsman died at the beginning.”
One… the woman who’d fired that hunting gun at Kaede. Crushed skull, broken body. She’d been so young.
Kaede looked at me with quiet sorrow.
”And of course, they betrayed us at once,” she said. “Ran straight to their town and raised the alarm. We barely escaped.”
”So mercy caused that?”
”Showing pity is not a sin,” she replied. “But in this case… it was our own weakness.”
She was protecting me, claiming none of it was my fault. Not because I’d forced mercy on them, but because the townsfolk had broken their word—and because her team hadn’t been strong enough. But that wasn’t true.
When her tale ended, I sat for a moment in silence.
I began to tally my own sins.
Espionage against another Imperial Guard unit—an attack, in essence, on another man. Then sabotage of strategy—betrayal against the town’s cause, the collapse of trust between Kaede and Ichimatsu. My interference had driven a wedge between male and Guard alike.
They must have lived in fear since, knowing nothing of my psionic power—unsure when I might tear information straight from their minds. Used wrongly, that ability could be monstrous.
”Maybe mercy was a mistake,” I said quietly. “If the mission failed, the war will just drag on.”
The truth was, things had worsened.
Her task had been assassination. Had she succeeded in killing even one council member from the noble houses, civil strife might’ve erupted. The invasion could have stopped. The southern front might’ve ended.
I didn’t regret what I’d done. Even if I could go back, I’d choose the same. Still—strategy failed, war continued, trust shattered. Though that part had always been fragile.
”Yet Heaven did not abandon us,” she said. “Our delay served as diversion, aiding victory in the surface battle.”
It seemed her team’s discovery inside the dungeon had thrown the enemy into chaos, splitting their forces. That confusion gave Kujukuri’s army the edge aboveground.
”So that’s why Ichimatsu was praised,” I said. “The infiltration failed, but it turned the tide by accident.”
”Your Lordship’s kindness is well known,” she whispered. “Truly…”
Her gaze warmed, soft as dawn.
There was no blame there.
And in that look, I saw something chilling: compassion for men, cruelty for women. Her values and mine—utterly different when it came to human life.
In this world, men mattered most. Women—especially ordinary townsfolk—were countless, cheap lives. So long as the men survived, that was the ethic that ruled.
In the world I came from, children were precious, and war was evil. Here, adults were worth more—because they could raise the next generation.
And war itself was sanctified. The strong and capable women survived to strengthen the governance of men—a warped kind of eugenics at the heart of their faith.
Morality, conscience—they’re just systems built by societies. As one who’s died once already, I feel that more than most.
There were times in history when genocide was virtue—when erasing another culture was called progress.
I couldn’t bear to live that way again. If I died and returned to a new age, I didn’t want to drown in its righteousness.
All I have left are feelings—grief and joy, nothing else. I won’t prioritize anything above that.
Compared to pity, social virtue means nothing.
That’s why I saved the pregnant woman. Some worlds condemn slaughter; others condemn mercy. I chose my feelings over either.
But because of that, the southern front still burns. How many more will die now? And of them, how many deaths will trace back to me?
The thought terrified me, far too late.
I must have looked grim, lost in thought. Was I just a foolish noble, blind and ignorant, whose mercy only multiplied the dead?
Kaede-san’s gaze stayed gentle, even as she studied my troubled face.
Then, in her quiet voice, she spoke.
”There is something I must tell you. It concerns the meeting I once requested with Your Lordship.”
”Oh—sorry, I drifted off. Go on.”
I’d almost forgotten. Before that first tea with Ichimatsu, Kaede had met me once directly. I’d never really wondered why.
”Have you heard of an illness called kibyō?”
”Uh… maybe? I think Cult Slut-san mentioned it in one of her lessons…”
”It is said to be a sickness,” she explained, “but one that afflicts only men.”
Her words stirred something faintly familiar in my mind.
Ah. Yes— I’d heard of it. Not in health class, but in social studies.
In this world, women live about fifty years. Men, eighty. Eighty years is the average male lifespan here—longer, perhaps, but not by much. Their bodies stay strong, yet their hearts simply give out.
”It had something to do with that strange age imbalance, right? A related illness?”
”You’re very well-studied,” she said softly. “Truly admirable.”
Her praise embarrassed me a little.
In Kujukuri Town, as in most others, the male population chart is unnaturally flat—every age group evenly filled. Men are treasured; they do not die easily.
If a town has men, they exist in perfect balance— except for a small dip in their forties. After that, the numbers stay level again until old age.
Men die, just a little, in their forties.
”Why was that again? Was it because of this kibyō thing?”
”That would be…”
Kaede glanced briefly toward my Imperial Guards. Sow-san gave a tiny nod.
Apparently, the topic was a delicate one.
”It concerns the men’s… contributions in the bedchamber,” she said.
I caught her meaning immediately. “Contributions” meant the duty—monthly or weekly—of coupling with townswomen to provide seed.
”Ah. Yeah, it’s fine. Go on.”
”If you’re sure…”
”I’m fine,” I assured her.
Seeing I wasn’t offended, she continued.
”Though sacred, that duty brings suffering to some men,” she said. “No matter the comfort offered, they loathe it. Perhaps it’s their nature, or their temperament. Yet they never abandoned their service. They endured what they hated, forced themselves for years—how pitiful they were.”
She spoke with genuine sympathy, her expression pained as if the grief were her own.
”Duty or not,” she murmured, “what we did to them was cruel. Ah, poor souls. The kibyō is a wasting sickness of the heart.”
”So… it means—”
It was, apparently, a kind of spiritual collapse—a breakdown born of forced intimacy.
When I face things I can’t comprehend in this world, I flip the genders in my mind. I imagine a noblewoman, proud and refined, repulsed by sex itself. Yet every week, every month, she must spread her legs for strangers she’s never met. Years of that. Decades.
It’s no wonder the mind breaks. Like a captured princess, locked in a foreign dungeon and used until she forgets her own name.
So kibyō—”spirit sickness”—was a kind of depression, unique to men who despised such acts. In other words, a deathly aversion to sex. I remembered from class: about two percent of men are born with this—the mere thought of coupling drives them to despair. It’s considered a natural but tragic condition.
”…Wait,” I said suddenly. “You mean—Ichimatsu?”
”Yes,” she replied simply.
”You can just… say that?”
”Yes.”
She really said it. I was stunned; it sounded like a state secret.
”Well… it does explain a lot.”
I pieced it together. His gaunt frame, the almost sickly pallor. His fury when I’d made light of the duty. To someone who loathes sex so deeply it makes them ill, hearing me call it “nothing” would have been unbearable.
Of course he’d want to make me pay—to drive the lesson home, even if it cost him dearly.
”So that’s why he acted like everything was meaningless…” I murmured.
I glanced around. How widely was this known?
I tugged at Sow-san’s sleeve. “Did you know?”
”Yes,” she answered. “We were briefed on all relevant matters before this meeting.”
”Trash-san too?”
”She suspected it,” Sow said. “Given his condition, it wasn’t hard to guess. Still… confirmation was a shock.”
So my Guards had known since before today. I’d been left out. They must have vetted Kaede’s team thoroughly. I just hoped no threats were involved—Sow-san could be terrifying when she wanted something.
”At that time,” Kaede continued, “he expressed a wish to invite Your Lordship for tea. I had already been chosen for a fatal mission, so I thought of it as one last service—to meet you in his stead.”
”You wanted to judge me,” I said.
”I was gravely mistaken,” she bowed her head. “I failed to see what a compassionate person you were.”
She apologized again and again. She’d wanted to make sure I wasn’t a threat to her master—or perhaps she hoped to bring some small comfort to a man already fading away.
”Unbelievable as it may sound…”
Kaede hesitated, then went on.
”Lord Ichimatsu is a quiet, graceful soul.”
”Really? He always seems furious and loud to me.”
”Yes,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. “In the past, he would speak only two or three words a day. But after meeting Your Lordship, he grew livelier. For years he’d hardly risen from bed.”
That seemed… exaggerated.
Whenever I met him, he was sarcastic, short-tempered, or outright violent. Just last time, he’d been so “energetic” he’d used his cane to beat his own Guards half to death.
There wasn’t a trace of death in him—Ichimatsu always looked so fiercely alive.
”Why is he even interested in me, anyway?” I asked.
”You should ask him yourself,” Kaede said gently.
”He’d never answer.”
We fought every time we met; I’d long stopped wanting to see him. I’d asked about it once before, but he’d brushed me off with that same sharp tongue.
Still, knowing what I knew now, I couldn’t help wondering—was his time really so short?
As I struggled to make sense of it all, Kaede-san spoke again, her tone lighter now, as if the weight had shifted from her shoulders.
”After hearing your words earlier,” she said, “I have made my resolve.”
”What do you mean?”
”I’ve already requested leave from Lord Ichimatsu. I intend to take up the mission once more.”
”What? Wait—what do you mean, once more?”
Her expression was calm, almost serene—the peace of someone who had accepted death. It terrified me.
”I can see how deeply you suffer from this endless war,” she said. “To have you say you were glad to meet me—it is the highest joy a woman could know. Allow me to end the southern conflict by taking the enemy’s head. In return… please forgive Lord Ichimatsu.”
She rose slightly, as if to leave.
I stared in disbelief. She had said her piece, and now she meant to go—just like that. Like she was heading out on an errand, not walking toward her own death.
”Wait, no—hold on,” I blurted. “You’re talking about going back into the dungeon? Again? Why would you do that?”
”Women observe men more closely than you think,” she said quietly.
I couldn’t say it aloud—not with everyone listening—but she knew. She was taking the blame for the mission I had ruined, trying to carry my guilt along with her.
”That’s not what I meant,” I said. “Don’t do something reckless!”
I stood abruptly, ignoring Sow-san’s alarmed voice.
”Please, young master, wait—!”
But I didn’t. I limped forward, took Kaede-san’s hand, and pulled her down beside me.
Her hand was rough, calloused, scarred—the hand of a soldier, an explorer. I liked hands like that. They were real.
Behind me, Flat-chested girl squeaked, “He—he grabbed her hand! Such a lecher!”
I ignored her.
”Don’t die,” I said. “Please don’t die.”
”You’re holding this old woman’s hand again,” Kaede murmured, her smile faint and trembling.
”Just calm down for a second, okay? Hear me out. I’m not angry—see?”
I spread my arms, forcing a grin.
My own Imperial Guards might’ve expected such behavior from me, but Ichimatsu’s attendants were visibly shocked.
”I can’t be forgiven,” Kaede whispered. “For what I did with you… and for this.”
Her gaze flicked to the scar on my stomach.
Tears stung my eyes. That wasn’t about the wound—it was about that night. I’d mentioned it earlier, trying to lighten her guilt, but it had hit her too hard.
In this world, for Kaede, for someone like her—Ichimatsu letting me sleep with him was already unforgivable. Attacking me afterward only deepened that shame.
”You’re beautiful, Kaede-san,” I said softly. “And still young. Dying would be such a waste.”
She laughed faintly. “You speak like a child, my lord.”
When I tried to stop her again, she reached out and stroked my head.
Her touch was gentle, grandmotherly—no tension between man and woman, only a warmth that hurt to feel.
The top of my head tingled. She wiped my eyes with her sleeve, careless of propriety.
It was an outrageous breach of decorum. What kind of attendant dares touch another noble’s head—wipe his tears with a dirty cuff?
”Kaede-san, you’ll get in trouble,” I murmured.
”I don’t care,” she said softly. “How could I let these tears fall and do nothing? If my time is short, let me face my duty once more—so that Your Lordship will stop crying.”
She smiled, gentle as dawn.
All around us, the women stood frozen, struck silent.
Only Sow-san managed to move, her hand gripping her sword. “Such insolence,” she breathed.
But she didn’t draw. She couldn’t.
”Kaede-dono,” she said, voice trembling, “to touch the young master like that—it’s unforgivable. And yet… why can’t I lift my blade? Why does my heart…”
Even Trash-san, Vocal Slut-san, and the little Flatty—none could hide the emotion in their eyes. It wasn’t reason that stopped them, but feeling.
At a distance, Kiri-san, Natsume-san, and the last of Ichimatsu’s Guards stood speechless.
At last, the misunderstanding had broken.
There had always been tension between our Guards—mistrust too deep to bridge. But between Kaede and me, there was no hatred. No intent to wound.
None of the women here meant me harm, and I trusted Kaede completely.
Whatever logic might say, the moment itself spoke to the heart.
Maybe Kaede’s squad and mine each held enough secrets to destroy the other—but none of us had the will to use them.
We were just people who’d hurt each other out of love for someone else.
And that’s why no one tried to stop us.
”Kaede-san,” I whispered, “I think… I like your hands.”
I lifted her palm to my cheek. They were slender, strong—hands that reminded me of someone I’d lost.
”They’re not so fine,” she said. “They’ve known too much hardship.”
”I like hands like that,” I said. “Rough, calloused ones. They make me feel safe.”
And the thought that I might never touch those hands again made it nearly impossible to let go.
One way or another, once Ichimatsu’s illness overtook him and his psionic power faded, all the wounds and years he had shielded her from would return at once. Kaede’s youth and strength existed only because he still lived.
As I leaned against her, she watched me with half-closed eyes, peaceful and knowing.
”Well then,” she said softly, “that’s enough boring talk. Kiri, Natsume—do you agree? It’s selfish, but I don’t want this one to be sad. I’m going.”
She brushed my hair one last time, then gently pried herself free and stood.
I reached out, desperate to stop her.
”I don’t want this,” I said. “Not even a little. This is all my fault, not yours.”
”No,” she said. “Be grateful for me. I had been living without purpose. At last, I’ve found what to do with my life.”
”I don’t hate you,” I said. “Not at all.”
But there were things I couldn’t say—my interference during the interrogation, the attack, even the night we’d shared. Secrets I was bound to keep.
Kaede asked me to forgive Ichimatsu. But I couldn’t forgive that she’d hurt me—though I’d never once said I wouldn’t.
How deep a sin was it, in this world, for a woman to harm a man? I still didn’t know.
Would it ease her heart if I said I resented her? I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
”You’re really going?” I asked.
”I am,” she said. “Think of it as a final curtain call for an Imperial Guard.”
And with that, she turned from me.
Ending a conversation with a man so abruptly was a breach of etiquette—but no one cared. She faced the two who had served beside her, her comrades.
”I don’t know the details,” said Kiri, stretching with a grin. “Don’t care, either. But it sounds fun. I’ll go. Ichimatsu-sama would permit it anyway. I’m bored of living.”
”I won’t!” Natsume burst out. “I don’t want to die! Going into that cursed dungeon again? No way!”
”Natsume…” Kaede said quietly.
”I said no! Don’t talk like that! Our master is Ichimatsu-sama, not this one! Why should I die in some pit like an animal?”
Tiny as she was, Natsume stamped her feet like a child throwing a fit. But the tantrum didn’t last long—her shoulders sagged, trembling.
”…If Kaede-chan’s going, I guess I have to,” she whispered. “I’m worried about her.”
Their bond was clear, even in grief.
They must have known I’d interfered in their mission, though I didn’t know the full story of their retreat. Whatever had happened, the three were bound tightly together.
I stood, ready to stop them. This was madness. I’d never asked anyone to risk their lives to ease my guilt.
”Young Master,” a familiar voice said, “I’ll go too.”
”Trash-san!?” I turned in shock.
My elder sister raised a hand, calm and deliberate.
”I don’t know what sympathy you have for Kaede-dono,” she said, “but clearly there’s something you’re not proud of.”
”You can tell?”
”Of course.”
She folded her arms and sighed—that face she made whenever she decided I was hopeless.
She wasn’t wrong. The mission had failed because of me. But dragging my own Imperial Guard into danger was absurd.
”Have you forgotten?” she said. “I told you to rely on me.”
”I remember, but—”
Before I could finish, Sow-san stepped between us, seizing Trash-san’s arm.
”Trash, don’t you start this nonsense too.”
Their grips tightened, the air between them crackling. They stood so close their foreheads almost touched.
”This one,” Sow growled, “always finds a way to twist logic until he does as he pleases.”
Trash didn’t flinch. “You’d rather he do it alone? I’m not blind. Kaede-dono’s insolence aside, her loyalty is real. What’s unforgivable is letting the young master’s heart break while we sit by.”
”She touched him like a commoner!” Sow snapped. “To stroke a young master’s head, to wipe his tears—before marriage, no less! It’s disgraceful!”
Without a word, Trash-san shook her arm free, walked up to me, and promptly ruffled my hair.
”Like this?” she said.
”Trash-san, that tickles.”
”See?” she said to Sow. “Look how unguarded he is with women. If you think he’d just sit quietly and let Kaede-dono walk off, you’re dreaming.”
Her fingers were firm and familiar as they moved through my hair, tugging playfully, even pinching my cheek before letting go.
A strange calm settled over me. I was still just a child, really—and being touched by someone older eased my fear.
”You too?” Sow whispered, trembling.
”What!?” squeaked Flat-chested girl, eyes wide.
They stared as if unsure how to react—too stunned to be angry.
Blushing, I mumbled, “I’m not always like this, you know. And Sow-san, why are you so shocked? I touch you all the time.”
”T-that’s different!” she stammered. “When you reach out first, it’s… it’s not the same!”
”Wait, it’s not!?” cried Flatty, instantly fascinated.
Normally, touching a man’s body so freely would be unthinkable—traumatizing, even.
Trash-san withdrew her hand and crossed her arms again, looking thoughtful.
”Think about it,” she said. “Would you rather chase after him every time he sneaks off and fix the mess afterward? Or hold the reins from the start, even if it means walking into danger?”
Sow hesitated. “Still…”
”And if Kaede-dono is leaving the Guard to do this,” Trash added, “then Ichimatsu’s camp has no quarrel with us.”
”That’s not the point!” Sow said. “An entire Exploration Squad quitting at once? Unheard of!”
”That’s their problem,” Trash replied. “Our young master’s feelings come first.”
After a long, quiet debate, the tension between the two Guards finally broke.
Soon, both sides—mine and Ichimatsu’s—seemed to understand one another at last.
The other Guards even approached me, wide-eyed, like children seeing a rare animal. Some dared to touch me lightly, curious and careful.
Maybe that helped bridge the rift between us. I’d become their little peace offering.
In the end, I decided to trust Trash-san.
Notes:
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Kiri – A female sniper and member of Kaede-san’s team, white-haired with sleepy eyes, wielding a disguised sniper rifle, known for her quick hands and slow speech, often joking in dire situations.
• Natsume – A female companion and younger sister of Kaede-san, cared for by Kaede-san during their journey through the dangerous valley, at risk of infection from the parasitic creatures.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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