Anything to change the subject.
“Yay!” Shinka bolted ahead, arms flailing as he galloped down the path like a wild colt set free. Mira followed at a more measured pace, the faintest smile ghosting across her lips.
Aimee fell in behind, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the narrow rock walls as they descended the first step ladder. Morning light skimmed the edge of the crevasse above, casting long shadows down the terraced stone structures that made up the mountain village.
“So…” Aimee watched the boy disappear down the next turn. “Any sign of whoever attacked us?”
Mira’s eyes flicked to her, sharp for just a moment—calculating—but her expression smoothed quickly into something unreadable. She’d been suspiciously tight-lipped since interrogating Kazuma that night over a month ago.
“No,” the woman said finally, brows drawing together as she followed the boy’s path. “We’re hoping it was a random encounter. Explorers who wandered too close to the border. And that your…aggressive response prevented any further exposure.”
Aimee winced inwardly. She wasn’t sorry for her actions, but she had made a mess of it. Literally. Despite that, though, her instincts were screaming that whatever that group was, they hadn't stumbled on this place by accident.
But Mira didn’t comment further. She simply passed a warm, leaf-wrapped breakfast roll to a nearby villager as they moved toward the next ladder.
“It would’ve been helpful to have a live prisoner to confirm the theory, though.”
“Right.” Her attention drifted over the lower levels where the morning haze clung to rooftops and villagers began to stir, stretching limbs and lighting fires. “Sorry about that.”
“What’s done is done.” Mira was already descending the next ladder. “We’ve increased Watch patrols and added new posts regardless.”
Aimee paused at the top of the ladder, fingers flexing on the rung. The village clearly valued its secrecy, but that didn’t mean she could stop wondering.
Her voice dropped a little. “What was behind that boulder, anyway?”
Kazuma had known more than he’d let on. He had not ended up there by accident. That much was obvious.
Aimee’s fists flexed at her sides.
And the bastard had yet to loop her in.
Trust goes both ways.The growl of frustration in her mind rose, only to be cut off by Mira’s voice.
“That is not for you to know, Aimee.”
“Right.” Aimee ducked under the outstretched pole of a passing man carrying two sloshing pails of water, the wooden yoke balanced across his shoulders. She turned back toward Mira with a thin, bitter exhale.
So, no trust there either, apparently.
A quiet beat passed as they wound further down the path, carved directly into the mountain wall. Below, the sounds of morning drifted up—conversation, clanking tools, laughter.
From ahead, Shinka darted back to Mira’s side, rummaged into the bag slung over her shoulder, and snatched up an armful of wrapped food bundles. Then, with exaggerated flourish, he bounded ahead again, handing them out to passersby like a noble distributing alms—head held high, grin wide.
Mira glanced sideways, her mouth tugging in something close to amusement. “You might be interested in what the Grannies have planned for the shinobi today.”
Aimee stepped faster, catching up. “Please tell me it’s torturous.”
Mira exhaled a long-suffering sigh, but Aimee caught the glint in her eye before she did it.
“I suppose that depends on your definition.”
Aimee fought the grin bubbling in her throat, waving her hand in a go-on motion. “I’m listening.”
“They need to replenish their clean water supply.”
Aimee blinked. “Sounds annoying, but not exactly cruel.” Her mind flicked back to the man with the buckets. “Heavy, maybe.”
Mira’s smile turned razor-thin. “The water can only be transported with a sanctified stone bowl.”
