He met Koichi’s gaze with a stern grimace. “Nobunaga continues to expand and bring in ideas the kami reject. The daimyōs are at each other’s throats. All of Japan is in turmoil. I have a duty to my people first and foremost. I can’t be sidetracked for one boy, no matter how special you might think he is. If you believe what you say, you will have to train him yourself, and keep him from distracting or harming the other students.”

Koichi laughed dryly. “When did you develop a sense of humor, Cousin? I’m awful with kids. In case you hadn’t noticed, the broken and dysfunctional ones you send me remain broken and dysfunctional.”

Hanzō rose and clapped him on the back. “Who better to teach them than one of their own? You understand them.”

“I think a demon just ate my brain.” That was the only reason that would cause him to even consider this.

Hanzō snorted. “You’ll be fine.”

Koichi rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that what you said before you dumped the Kai-dan on me the first time?”

“I have all faith in you.”

“Not what you said when I walked in.”

“I have newfound faith in you.”

Koichi curled his lip. “You’re the spittle on the back of a toad.”

“And I am trusting you to watch this boy and train him. Kill him if you can’t.”

Wonderful. Teacher or executioner. Neither was a role he wanted or relished.

Yet in that moment, for the first time in years, he heard the rustling of the universe in his ears.

The fate of all is in your hands.

Even better.

The kami had to be out of their minds to give that responsibility to a drunken fool who’d lost all faith in everything and everyone.

You’re still samurai.

Yes, but more than that, he was Kai-dan—fractured and held together by sake and venom. Not gold. Not even honor . . .

At least not anymore.

What was the old saying? Even monkeys fall from trees.

He must have fallen on his head.

Why would the kami choose him unless they wanted chaos? Maybe that was their purpose.

Nothing ruined the world faster than chaos. It was why structure was so important. So needed.

Yet he felt none of that right now. All he knew was the weight of a world that seemed to hate him.

Growling with regret, Koichi picked Ryuichi up so that he could carry him to the infirmary, where the monks tended the sick and injured. As he left Hanzō’s study, he almost ran into the man’s daughter, who was hiding in the shadows.

Takara. That was her name. By the curious light in her eyes, he could tell she’d been listening to them.

“Of private things you are silent. Do you understand me, girl?”

She nodded. “I won’t betray Ryuichi.”