While he, too, was still a samurai, Koichi was well aware that no one else saw it that way.

Least of all his famed cousin, who thought him only half a step up from a peasant.

At the end of the day, Koichi was ronin. Without a master. And all because the one he’d served had been killed in a foolish quest while Koichi had done his best to save him.

Yes, he’d avenged his master, but no one else had seen it. No one knew what he’d done for his master, or Japan. Nor did anyone believe it.

So he’d been left adrift. Hated and repelled by everyone. No decent samurai would allow him near their service.

Had his cousin Hanzō not taken him in, Koichi would have been driven to death by now.

By his own hand or someone else’s.

But he was stronger than that. He’d promised his master that he would continue to hold the code they’d sworn themselves to. To keep back the monsters who preyed on innocence. No matter if he was mocked and belittled for protecting this world. Hated for keeping others safe. Even if no one vouched for him, not even his own cousin.

So he’d been relegated by his honor. To endure this horrific existence while he was shamed.

And it was horrible. As if life itself begrudged him every breath he took. That was why Koichi had crawled into his sake and stayed there. It at least made all of this tolerable.

Now . . .

“Do you know who his parents are, Hanzō?”

“Minor riffraff. He’s an orphan with no family name.”

Koichi winced. Not only at Hanzō’s arrogance but his stupidity.

If there was one thing Koichi had learned over the years, it was that the only thing more dangerous than a demon was a stubborn samurai. At least demons practiced self-preservation.

A samurai didn’t mind dying so long as they did it with honor . . . and style.

Laughing bitterly, Koichi shook his head. “I had no idea the great Hattori Hanzō was such an idiot. You honestly thought some kid without parents shows up, has what it takes to get into this school . . . and you didn’t even think to ask a single question about where he really came from?”

With that, he had overstepped. Hanzō’s eyes flared as his hand went to his own sword. “It’s not the place of an honorless ronin to question his betters!”

There it was. His cousin’s true feelings at that tiny slip of decorum.

Koichi scoffed. “When my better arrives, please point him out. Until then . . . you might want to know that you dumped a Shadowling in my lap. I might be a drunk ronin, but you, Hattori Hanzō, are a fool. Why you even wear a helmet when there’s nothing inside it to protect, I have no idea.”