SAI SHINU
Namae's eyes locked onto mine, sharp and searching.
"You're asking me to help you kill my master… Do you even understand what you're saying?"
I didn't flinch. "I understand perfectly. And I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary."
"Necessary?" Her voice wavered between anger and disbelief. "Sai, this man trained me. He's the reason I can even stand here with you. And now you want me to betray him?"
I stepped closer, keeping my tone steady. "I'm not asking for betrayal. I'm asking for justice."
Her gaze dropped for a moment, then returned to me with a mixture of pain and doubt. "…Justice for who? Your mother?"
I hesitated, feeling the weight of her words press against the back of my throat. "For more than her. For every life he's ruined." Taros father came to mind immediately.
She exhaled sharply and looked away, her expression tightening. "Something's been wrong with him lately… I've seen it. He's not the man I remember. It's like… like he's someone else wearing his skin."
"That's because he isn't the man you think he is."
Her head snapped back toward me, eyes wide. "Then tell me! Tell me why!"
I shook my head slowly. "I can't. Not yet. You'll have to trust me."
Her voice sharpened. "Trust you? You're asking me to turn my back on the one person who—" She stopped herself, clenching her fists. "…and you can't even give me a reason?"
"I know it's not fair," I said quietly. "But I'm telling you, Namae… if we don't stop him, you'll lose a lot more than a master."
She fell silent for a long moment, her face unreadable. When she finally spoke, her tone was lower. "You know… I've been carrying guilt for years. About your mother. About how I couldn't keep my promise to her."
"You don't owe me anything for that," I told her.
"Maybe not. But if helping you now is the only way I can make it right… then I'll do it. I'll help you. Even if it means killing him."
I held her gaze, the air between us heavy. "Thank you… Namae."
She turned away, hiding whatever was written on her face. "Don't thank me yet. I'm still not sure if I'm doing the right thing."
We stood in silence for a moment, the decision hanging between us like a blade suspended by a thread. I could see the unease in her eyes, but also the resolve that had begun to harden beneath it. She had made her choice — now there was no turning back.
I broke the silence first. "If we're going to do this, we need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more time he has to prepare… or to disappear."
Namae crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on the floor. "He's not the type to run. If anything, he'll be expecting trouble." She glanced up at me, her expression sharp again. "So tell me, Sai… how exactly do you plan to kill a man who trained an entire army?"
I exhaled slowly. "Not with brute force. That's suicide. We'll need precision — timing. The element of surprise."
Even as I said it, I could feel the weight of how dangerous this was. We weren't talking about some common soldier; we were talking about the architect of warriors.
Her eyes narrowed. "You sound like you've been thinking about this for a while."
"I have." I didn't deny it. There was no point. "And I've been waiting for the right moment. But with you… we might just have a chance."
She tilted her head slightly. "Because I know his habits?"
"Because you can get me close," I said. My voice was calm, but inside, my heart was racing. "Close enough to end it before he even knows I'm there."
She studied me for a long moment. I couldn't tell if she was calculating the plan in her head or weighing whether she could actually trust me. Finally, she spoke.
"There's one time of the week when he's alone. No guards, no assistants, nothing. It's when he goes to the old shrine outside the village. He says it's for meditation… but lately, I've been wondering if it's something else."
My eyes locked on hers. "When?". She hesitated for half a second before answering. "Today."
The word hit like a spark in dry grass. My chest tightened, but I didn't let the rush of adrenaline show. "Then we don't have time to waste."
Namae frowned, glancing toward the window as if seeing the shrine in her mind. "It's not that simple. The shrine's in open ground. If something goes wrong, there's nowhere to run."
"I don't plan on running."
Something in my tone must have hit her, because her expression softened, just for a second. "You're serious about this."
"I have to be." My voice was low, almost a growl. "Too many people have suffered because of him. I can't let it go on."
She turned away from me, her shoulders tense. "Fine. We'll do it at the shrine. But if you're wrong about him…" She didn't finish the sentence, but I could hear the warning in her voice.
"If I'm wrong," I said, "you can stop me yourself."
She looked back at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't tempt me."
We both knew that once we took this step, there'd be no way back. And now, we didn't have days to prepare — we had hours.