As dawn broke, the Tsukiyomi Palace stirred with unease. The quiet of morning was broken by urgent knocks on the royal chamber doors.
Masanori groaned, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Mm… what could be so alarming at this hour?"
Reika was already awake, slipping into her outer robes and tying her hair with trembling fingers. "Something must have happened, Masanori," she whispered, her eyes clouded with worry.
Masanori rose, dressed quickly, and stepped into the corridor where two guards awaited him, their expressions tense.
"Your Majesty," one guard said, bowing low, "young master returned wounded in the night. He was taken to the infirmary after his expedition to the northern hills."
Masanori's eyes widened. "Rikuya—wounded?" He wasted no time, striding quickly through the still corridors toward the infirmary.
There, under the pale glow of lantern light, lay Rikuya. His arm and stomach were bound in bloodied bandages, his complexion drained of color. Masanori approached with caution, his voice breaking. "Rikuya… are you all right?"
Rikuya's lashes fluttered as he forced his eyes open. "Y-yes, Father…" His voice was strained, his breathing shallow. "Uncle could not accompany me, so I went alone with some guards. The tribes in the northern hills ambushed us. I… barely escaped. Four of our men were captured."
Masanori's brow furrowed deeply. "I see. I will dispatch another group at once to recover them. Rest now, my son. I shall visit again later."
He left swiftly, though worry lingered in his chest.
Meanwhile, in the mountain home at Giramuzi—
The soldiers stirred awake. Their wounds were healing far faster than they thought possible, their bodies restored with a surprising vigor. As they sat up, they turned to Takao, bowing with gratitude.
"Thank you, doctor… we owe you our lives."
Takao smiled gently, shaking his head. "Please—there is no debt. It is our duty as people to stand with each other in hardship."
The soldiers gathered their belongings, preparing to descend the hill. Takao called out after them, curiosity edging his tone. "At least tell me—where are you from?"
Their reply came in unison, echoing against the mountainside:
"From Tsukiyomi Palace!"
Takao froze for a brief moment, the name stirring something in him—something old, something familiar. Yet he brushed it aside, returning quietly to his plants as the soldiers made their way down the slope.
At the gates of Tsukiyomi Palace, their return caused a ripple of shock. The gatekeepers gaped at their strength, their restored color, their healed wounds. Whispers filled the air until the news reached Masanori… and then Rikuya.
When the guards were brought inside, Rikuya's eyes narrowed sharply. "You… you were more gravely wounded than I. How is it you stand before me so well? Who treated you?"
One guard stepped forward. "young Master… it was a man at the peak of Giramuzi. His methods were unlike anything we've seen—different, but astonishingly effective."
Rikuya's mind reeled. His lips curved into a faint, calculating smile, though his eyes remained cold.
Who is this man? Someone who heals as though he can cure anything…
And in that moment, a new seed of destruction took root within Rikuya's heart.
If he can heal that better...he can end lives too ...
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Part 4 coming soon....