Five days into the journey, the rugged mountain paths of the North began to flatten into the rolling grasslands of the central provinces. At the junction of the Great East Road, the Minamoto carriage was forced to a halt. A massive procession blocked the way a sea of white and silver banners bearing the crest of the Minakaze family.
The air instantly grew cold, though not from the weather. The Reiryoku between the two groups hummed like a drawn bowstring.
Master Gengo signaled for the carriage to stop. He stood at the front, his hand resting on the neck of his spear, his lone eye fixed on the three figures leading the Minakaze group. Yorimitsu slid the carriage door open and stepped out, his indigo robes a sharp contrast to the stark, clinical white of the Minakaze retainers.
Standing at the head of the Minakaze line were three.
First was Old Man Juro, a withered figure leaning on a staff that contained a hidden blade. Despite his age, his Reiryoku felt like a sharp breeze thin but capable of cutting bones. Beside him stood Lady Shiori, a woman with frozen features and eyes like winter glass, her fingers resting on a fan made of sharpened steel ribs.
But it was the man in the center who drew the most attention. Mifune no Miyazaki.
He was in his early twenties, dressed in overly ornate silks. His hair was tied back in a high, arrogant topknot, and he carried a pair of thin, curved sabers. His aura was loud and chaotic, lacking the disciplined depth of the Seiwa Genji. He looked at Yorimitsu.
"Tsk.. I would seem that Minamoto hasn't perished after all." He spoke in a low voice, but Yorimitsu heard him, though he remained quiet.
Yorimitsu performed a shallow, formal bow. It was perfectly executed, neither too low to show weakness nor too high to show disrespect.
"It has been many seasons, members of the Minakaze," Yorimitsu said, his voice as calm as a frozen pond. "I trust the winds have been favorable to your house."
Mifune stepped forward, his boots crunching loudly on the gravel. He didn't return the bow. Instead, he fanned himself, his eyes scanning Yorimitsu with blatant mockery.
"The Sickly Dragon of the North finally leaves his cave," Mifune drawled, his voice dripping with false concern. "Tell me, Yorimitsu, does your father still spend his nights praying to the shrines of dead ancestors to keep your lungs from failing? Or has the Minamoto clan finally run so low on talent that they must send a child to the Capital to beg for a rank?"
Gengo's knuckles turned white on his spear. Toma's hand twitched toward his hooked blades. But Yorimitsu's expression didn't change. He stood perfectly still, his pulse not rising a single beat.
"Mifune….!" Mai no Minakaze roared still hidden in his carriage, and Mifune stood back and he took a bow apologizing.
"The Minamoto prioritize strength and silence, Mifune-dono," Yorimitsu replied. "It is a pity the Minakaze have traded their steel for such... colorful tongues."
Mifune's face flushed. He took a step closer, trying to loom over Yorimitsu. "Be careful, boy. The Capital is not your nursery. There are families there who remember how easily Minamoto can be pushed into the shadows."
Yorimitsu simply looked through him, as if Mifune were made of glass. "The road is long, and the sun is setting. We shall not detain you further."
With a final, freezing nod, Yorimitsu turned his back on the Mai no Minakaze and climbed back into his carriage.
The two processions split, the silver banners of the Minakaze heading toward the western shrines while the indigo of the Minamoto continued south. As the carriage moved forward, Gengo rode close to the window.
"Young Master," Gengo said, his voice unusually grave. "That man, Mifune... do not let his arrogance fool you. He is a 'Viper of the Gale.' He is egotistical and petty, yes, but he is also a very skilled master of the twin-saber style. He purposefully hurls those insults to bait an emotional reaction to find a crack in your spirit."
Yorimitsu looked at his palm, "I know, Gengo. He was trying to see if my Reiryoku would flare in anger. He wanted to measure me."
"He will be at the Academy," Gengo warned. "And he will likely try to pry into our family's secrets or sabotage your Ranking Trial. He is dangerous because he has no honor to lose."
"No, that's not it I sensed it there something different about him" Yorimitsu corrected, his eyes turning a sharp, crystalline blue.
Souta, leaning against the back of the carriage, let out a soft snort. "Mifune... he talks too much. If he tries that in the Capital, I'll make sure his sabers end up as hairpins."
Toma remained silent, but his eyes were fixed on the vanishing silver dust of the Minakaze trail.
As the carriage crested the final ridge of the Yamashiro basin, the Great Capital, Heian-kyō, finally revealed itself. It was not merely a city; it was a sprawling, geometric leviathan laid out in a perfect grid, a manifestation of the Feng Shui principles intended to harmonize the heavens and the earth.
From the distance, the city was a sea of grey-tiled roofs and vermillion pillars, bisected by the massive Suzaku Avenue a road so wide it felt like a dry riverbed of stone leading straight to the Imperial Palace.
"So this is the 'City of Peace and Tranquility,'" Yorimitsu thought, peering through the silk curtains. "A masterpiece of order on the surface, yet I can feel the weight of it. Millions of souls moving like the ocean."
The carriage approached the Rashomon, the colossal southern gate. It was a structure of immense prestige, gaint red gate with great white rope tied around it like they were snakes.
The atmosphere here was a jarring mix of high culture and low misery. Noblemen in flowing kariginu robes were carried past in ornate palanquins, their faces powdered bone-white, while just feet away, the displaced and the destitute huddled in the shadows of the gate's massive pillars.
"The balance is off," Yorimitsu mused, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of Dōjigiri.
The carriage was halted by a contingent of the Kebiishi (Imperial Police). They were dressed in traditional lacquered armor, carrying naginata that caught the dying light of the afternoon sun.
"State your lineage and purpose," the lead officer commanded, his eyes lingering on the three formidable warriors flanking the carriage. He didn't recognize the Seiwa Genji, but he recognized the aura of men who had seen real war.
Master Gengo stepped forward, his lone eye fixed on the officer. "Minamoto no Yorimitsu, heir to the Seiwa Genji. Here by Imperial summons for enrollment in the Royal Academy of Onmyōdō."
The officer's posture shifted slightly a mix of recognition and hidden malice. "The Minamoto? We were told to expect a sickly ward, not a fortress on wheels. Stand by for spiritual inspection."