​

Hazō’s last Substitution took him behind the cover of the safety wall, and he watched anxiously as his clone reached for the scroll, channelled its chakra… and nothing happened.

One…

Two…

Three…

Damn. He was so sure he’d had something this time.

As Hazō peeked out from behind the wall, a gust of wind brought a strange smell to his nostrils—acrid, metallic, with maybe a hint of sulphur…

“Kagome-sensei, do you think—”

The explosion knocked them clean off their feet.

o-o-o-o

“Hey,” Hazō began. “I wanted to talk to you two about this idea that M—”

He stopped. What was he supposed to call her now? If he called her “Mari-sensei” in front of the others, they’d probably make the switch too, as well as raising questions of what had prompted it. After all, she’d long since given them permission. Really, calling her “Inoue-sensei” was little more than a bit of petty vengeance that had gone on incredibly long.

But on the other hand, that would leave Kagome-sensei as the only person on a last-name basis with her (Hazō was pretty sure Kagome-sensei’s relationship with Mari-sensei wasn’t that close), and also as the only person the rest of the group was on last-name terms with. Would that make him feel uncomfortable? Isolated? Kagome-sensei already instinctively kept to the periphery of the group, and emphasising that might undo months of bonding.

But on the other hand, it would make Mari-sensei feel closer to the team at a time when she was trying to emotionally distance herself from them. Was that more important?

Maybe he could call her “Mari-sensei” in private for now? But that felt weird, like they were secret lovers or something. And somebody would inevitably overhear and have uncomfortable questions.

Argh.

“Hazō,” Keiko said, “you appear to have had a fascinating sealcrafting idea in mid-conversation again. Does Inoue-sensei need to have another talk with you about basic social expectations?”

​

Noburi snerked. “Hazō, Keiko is telling you off for your lack of social skills. I think this moment needs to go down in history. Keiko, did you ever start writing that ‘cautionary tale’ list?”

Keiko shook her head. “Please avoid the topic of lists, Noburi. It will only encourage him.”

Hazō groaned. “Guys, I was being serious. There’s something I want to talk to you about while… while our senseis are off doing whatever it is they’re doing together.”

Smooth, Hazō. Maybe he could just avoid using Mari-sensei’s name until he came up with a solution.

“All right, Hazō,” Noburi said. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Hazō began, “the idea has recently been brought up that my new seals, especially the skywalker seals—stop smirking, Noburi, I think it’s a cool name and as the creator, it’s my opinion that counts—could be a real game-changer in the Elemental Nations, and that makes them valuable. It’s possible that we could sell them to Jiraiya in exchange for more than just money. Maybe we could buy Leaf citizenship with them.”

He paused to allow the idea to sink in.

“If I can promise them more seals of that level of quality—and I really do think I can—then I’ll be valuable to them, and you as my close friends will be too. We’ll be safe, and we’ll be well-treated. We’ll get Akane back. Noburi, you’ll get your master classes in medicine. Keiko… well, I’ve been thinking about it, and…” Hazō stopped.

“Keiko, I am aware that your usual mental state and your self-perception are particularly negative, disproportionately to your virtues and capabilities as an individual. I have also observed that this has changed little over time, despite a huge improvement in your circumstances since I first met you in the Swamp of Death. It is my belief that you could benefit greatly from specialised tools to help you improve your mental condition, or at least that you should have the option of doing so. Access to the Yamanaka, with their expertise on matters of the mind, is the best source for this that I can think of.”

“Thank you, Hazō,” Keiko said unevenly. “I—I apologise for expressing my psychological flaws in so overt a fashion. I did not sufficiently consider their… their impact on your daily life. I will… endeavour to—“

“Nonono!” Hazō waved his hands urgently at her. “I’m perfectly OK with the way you are. Well, apart from how it makes you unhappy, not that you don’t have the right to be unhappy if that’s what you want, oh, but if you—“

“Hazō, you’re being dumb,” Noburi cut him off. “Of course nobody wants to be unhappy. Keiko, just filter out the stupid bits from what he says—I mean, that is your speciality—and focus on the part where he wants good things to happen to you.”

“Th-Thank you,” Keiko said quietly. “I apologise for sidetracking the discussion. Hazō, please continue.”

“Er. Right. I’m less sure about Kagome-sensei. He could unquestionably benefit from specialist help, but can’t guarantee he won’t blow them up first. Given how he only ever talks about us ‘escaping’ Leaf, he might not cope well with the idea of going back to stay.

“The other obvious catch to all this is that, if I join Leaf as a sealmaster, I’ll be too valuable for them to ever let me leave again. But obviously, there’ll be consequences for all of us. So I wanted to know, without committing to anything, what you guys think of the idea.”

“Hmm.” Noburi mulled it over. “Getting to study under Yakushi-sensei would be pretty great. Thing is, I’m not saying I want to keep waking up every morning wondering whether this is the day Captain Zabuza ambushes me in the latrine, but… I kinda liked our original plan. ‘Team Wakahisa saves the world!’, y’know? I don’t want to go back to being somebody else’s minion, standing in the back row handing out flasks of chakra water.”

“Team Wakahisa?” Keiko raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, I haven’t shown you guys my true powers yet!” Noburi grinned. “Sure, Inoue-sensei may be top dog right now, but give me a few years and I’ll have the Mizukage weeping salty, salty tears that he let somebody with my potential get away!”

Hazō didn’t dignify this with a response. “Keiko, what’s your opinion?”

“I have achieved a new level of respect for Inoue-sensei after seeing how much her diplomacy training has improved Noburi’s sense of humour.”

Hazō rolled his eyes as Noburi visibly deflated. “I meant about joining Leaf.”

“I do not disagree with Noburi’s assessment. Of the situation, that is, not of his supplanting Inoue-sensei as our leader, which remains as probable as Kagome defeating an S-rank enemy through seduction.”

Hazō wasn’t sure whether the stifled choking noises coming from Noburi’s direction were at the statement, the fact that it was Keiko saying it, or the sheer imagery of the thing. The first S-rank ninja he could think of was Jiraiya.

“To expand,” Keiko ignored the reeling boys, “while our chances of survival would increase astronomically—indeed, it would become possible for us to survive the coming year—our odds of accomplishing our ultimate goal might in fact decrease. Granted, not being murdered by hunter-nin is an essential prerequisite for any long-term plan, but given the loss of autonomy, we would likely be at Leaf’s mercy in terms of whether their agenda for us would coincide with our own desires. As Leaf citizens, we would also be Leaf soldiers, and would not have the luxury of refusing orders the way we at least theoretically can now. If Leaf chose to use Hazō’s seals to turn the world into a smoking wasteland, we would have no recourse short of suicide.

“With that said, Leaf does seem to be the most promising ally for our cause. The difference of its propaganda to Mist’s is staggering, and with Inoue-sensei’s support and training, it is possible that we could gain an edge in Leaf’s politics by leveraging our collective value, from Hazō’s seals to our bloodlines to Inoue-sensei’s everything. It would, of course, be necessary in the process not to offer mortal insult to anyone capable of ending us with a cough.

“On which subject, joining Leaf would almost certainly precipitate the next war. It is doubtful that Leaf would be able to keep our recruitment secret forever—I cannot imagine that Mist has no spies here, and as a combination of new recruits we are quite distinctive—and they will certainly go to war if only to solidly close off the possibility of others poaching ninja from them in the same way. Nor can I imagine that handing Leaf new and potent weapons will lead to an improved balance of power, especially in light of its existing lead in military force.”

Noburi frowned. “I know this sounds really harsh, but is that such a bad thing? I mean, we all know war is coming anyway, and at least this way we’ll be on the right side and we won’t be caught off guard. Heck, maybe if Leaf wins hard enough, it’ll bring about a long enough period of peace that we can get our thing done.”

“Your family would die,” Keiko said emotionlessly. “My family would die. Hazō’s mother might be rescued first, but the rest of his clan would die. Everyone we ever knew back in Mist would die. The friends we have made in Leaf would die.”

“A-Aren’t you exaggerating?” Hazō said uneasily, feeling a cold sensation creeping through his body.

“Only in terms of degree,” Keiko said. “We do not know whether the next war will be a series of skirmishes or total annihilation. It may be that Leaf’s victory will be swift and overwhelming, and so minimise casualties. It may be that its enemies will fight to the last woman to prevent its absolute dominance. Think of any person you know, and roll the dice on their survival. Then roll for everyone else, and continue rolling until enough people on one side are dead. That is war.”

She gave them a look that was too calm for the words she was saying.

“I am Mori. I have been trained to know the numbers. Those who do not know the numbers have no right to think of war as a tool.”

Then the cold, hard light went out of her eyes.

“But I understand. War is coming. It is not within our power to save our friends or loved ones, and so it is rational to focus our efforts on seeking opportunities within the disaster. And for ourselves, joining a side and ensuring its victory would extend our influence in a way that seeking to hide ourselves within the shadows of a world on fire would not.”

“Is that your conclusion?” Hazō asked numbly. “We should join Leaf because it’s the lesser evil?”

“That is one way of putting it,” Keiko said. “I have reservations, severe reservations, about becoming a Leaf shinobi, but I cannot perceive a superior alternative.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Noburi said. “Are we really just going to throw away everything we’ve done, and sign up to be good little soldiers again, and hope that they order us to do what we want to instead of, say, sending us on a suicide mission?

“I know, I know, we’d be too valuable, and Jiraiya says he doesn’t do suicide missions anyway. But look how far we’ve come! Look what we’ve already achieved! Now that it finally looks like we’re getting the edge we need to make our own place in the world, like we’ll be able to tell Captain Zabuza just where he can shove his magic sword, we’re going to give it all away? To someone who’s admitted he sees us as pawns on a shogi board?

“I know you two are the master strategists, and if Inoue-sensei also thinks this is the best thing for us, then I’ve got your back. No question. But even though Leaf has Yakushi-sensei, and Yamanaka and Hyūga and the other guys… my gut’s telling me it’s not the place for us. Security’s not worth it if we have to trade in our freedom and our dreams.”

Hazō sighed heavily. “Thanks, you two. I still don’t know what I want myself, but hearing your thoughts helps. Now I think I can hear Kagome-sensei ranting about the sky squid, so it’s probably time to go save our leader and get on with the sealing research in our new facility.”

o-o-o-o

One…

Two…

Three…

No explosion. So far, so good. No strange smells either. Could this be the one?

There was a buzzing noise, just at the edge of hearing. Hazō froze as he was about to step out of cover.

Buzzing noises just at the edge of hearing were one of the bad signs.​

Something unfolded in the air next to the clone, a sheet of what looked like dark yet shimmering metal. The clone stared at it quizzically.

The sheet of metal bulged, as if something irregularly-shaped was pressing on it from the other side. A shape began to take form, flat planes interlocking at awkward angles, moving and rotating around itself. It leaned forward, out, then fell onto the grass, the sheet retracting as if nothing had happened.

Something unnatural slowly rose to a standing position.

It could generously be described as humanoid—two arms, two legs, and something in the position of a head. In fact, in terms of size and proportions, it was a perfect match for Hazō’s clone. But it most certainly did not look human.

The thing was made of blades, a complex, intersecting arrangement of blades that looked like it should cut itself to pieces on moving, much less manage any sort of coordinated activity like standing up. The arrangement at the top, in the head position, was pointed forward, in a fashion uncomfortably reminiscent of a bird’s skull.

While Hazō was still watching, fascinated, Kagome-sensei reacted instantly.

“Fuck me, it’s a rift!” he yelled, detonating the first of his explosive traps.

Coming from directly beneath the creature, the explosion shattered it to pieces. Blades flew in every direction. Several blew chunks out of the protective MEW wall.

“I wouldn’t do that again, Kagome-sensei,” Hazō said warily.

In front of them, the sheet was bulging again.

“Oh, no.”

This time, several creatures fell out at once, and when they rose, they began to look around, their bird skull heads turning eerily back and forth while the bodies stayed still.

Kagome-sensei gritted his teeth. “Those things look dangerous as hell. Rift Protocol Three.”

The two sealmasters charged.

o-o-o-o

Hazō ducked beneath a decapitating arm-wing, taking care not to bring his head near the whirring assemblage at the creature’s core, then blocked another scissor-pincer with a chunk of granite.

An enemy which could not be punched, kicked, cut or exploded—a ninja’s worst nightmare. The main thing keeping Hazō and Kagome-sensei alive right now was that the creatures seemed to have no comprehension of human body language, and struggled to read their opponents. If they were opponents. For all Hazō knew, to them physical contact was an essential means of peaceful communication, the fact that it would cut Hazō to ribbons notwithstanding.

If they could just run and get the others, with their offensive and disabling ninjutsu… but no. Unless they followed Rift Protocol Three immediately, there was no telling what kind of catastrophe they might unleash.

“Two more coming out!” he shouted a warning.

“Nearly there,” Kagome-sensei grunted. “I’ll keep them—aargh!—I’ll keep them off you! Just make sure to leave no gaps!”

Kagome-sensei leapt back from what would have been a lethal grappling move, then aimed his finger boxes—not at the enemy, but in front of its “feet”, releasing a blast of earth that threw it backwards, at another behind it.

Hazō expected the two to go down in a hopeless tangle of blades like a poorly-managed cutlery drawer, but to his shock the two smoothly interwove, metal interlocking with metal, circling round, and then separating as if one had spun the other round in a dance move.

The motion was entrancing, enough so that Hazō nearly missed a lunge for his stomach. Hurriedly slamming his chunk of granite down on the advancing limb, he twisted sideways and sprinted for the rift.

The metal plate was already bulging with yet more reinforcements, but Hazō didn’t hesitate. This was what Rift Protocol Three was designed for.

“Earth Element: Multiple Earth Wall!”

Twin towers of granite rose on either side of the rift, shattering whatever abomination was in the process of being born and forming a nearly airtight seal. Hazō used the technique several times more, closing off every gap, then painstakingly constructed a heavy granite lid to cover the top.

It was probably a good idea to move camp after this. Would Fang be too close?

​ o-o-o-o

Kei’s birthday had passed uneventfully. After a morning which had contained perfunctory birthday wishes, Mari-sensei had summarily dispatched her to the Summon Realm to conduct research on pangolin mercenary networks. Pandā, who to her surprise had also wished her a happy birthday, while looking strangely furtive, had run her ragged for the entire afternoon, and though she did not feel she had accomplished anything, the process had nevertheless been a helpful distraction from the feeling of gnawing emptiness.

It was, of course, unreasonable of her to be surprised. If one were to perceive presents and celebrations as investments in interpersonal bonds, then it was entirely reasonable that someone like her, who consistently failed to give those bonds the energy and attention they deserved, should receive minimal investment in return. Kei stomped down on the flickering flame of anger inside the emptiness. True, she had made the effort during their birthdays, and from some perspective it was unfair for them not to reciprocate. But then, why should she expect parity between them, when she consistently took far more than she gave, time after time receiving inexplicable affection and reassurance, even after her failures, when she had none to give herself?

“What time is it on the Human Path?” Pandā’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“What? Oh, early evening, I suppose. The sun must be setting soon.”

“Then you should go back,” Pandā said with an uncharacteristic firmness. “And make sure to summon me when you get there.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, you beakface!”

Kei gave a confused nod and dispelled the Summoning Technique.

There was a sudden blast of noise a second after she returned.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Kei gazed around herself in shock. Mari-sensei, Hazō, Noburi and Kagome were all standing around her, bright smiles on their faces (an awkward and slightly lopsided one on Kagome’s, as if he were uncertain what he was doing). They all appeared to be happy to see her.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked dazedly.

“It’s a surprise birthday party, duh!” Noburi exclaimed. “Didn’t you ever have any of these when you were a kid?”

“No, I did not,” Kei made an effort to rally herself. “I did not attend many birthday parties, nor were my own particularly noteworthy affairs.

“Does this mean you sent me away deliberately?”

“That’s right,” Mari-sensei smiled. “Kagome needed time to prepare. Kagome!”

Kei turned around to see that Kagome was holding a wide, flat, roughly cylindrical object on a wooden plate. It was dark brown, and it did not look like any sealcrafting mechanism that she was aware of.

“Is this… a present?”

“Sort of,” Kagome said. “I made you a ratberry pie.”

“You’d be surprised how long it took us to build the right kind of oven out of granite blocks, but we figured it out eventually,” Hazō added proudly.

Kei was unable to help herself. “Ratberry?”

“Back where I was living up north, the tree rats used to love these things,” Kagome explained. “They’d gnaw on them all day long. Turns out they have this sweet, acidic flavour, and if you cook them right, the acid fades and you’re left with a great dessert. Lot of exploded tree rats in that forest after I figured that out.

“The pie’s a modified Akimichi Lore recipe, except of course the stinkers never heard of ratberries. I’m the only one who knows about the ratberries. And you now, I guess.”

Kagome hesitated. “Would you like to try some?”

Kei gave her best smile, and on this occasion it wasn’t even difficult. “I would be delighted.”

​ o-o-o-o The pie was sweeter than she would have preferred, and some of the crust was burnt, and one of the ingredients apparently smelled the way she imagined a tree rat would. It was, nevertheless, the most delicious thing in the world, superior even to carrot cake. Kei was a fool, an incredible fool, for ever having doubted them.

“We’re not done yet,” Mari-sensei said, tapping Pandā on the snout lightly to draw his attention away from the meal (he had a separate slice best described as "termites in ratberry sauce") and back to the celebration.

“Kagome, you’re the man of the hour. You go first.”

Kagome squirmed. He retreated into the shadows of the cave, and came back carrying a peculiarly-shaped wooden object, which he thrust awkwardly into her hands and backed away in a hurry.

“It’s OK if you don’t like it,” he said. “I spent a while working on it, but it’s been ages since I carved anything that complicated, and my tools aren’t too great, so if you hate it, you can just throw it away. I won’t mind.”

Kei studied the mysterious artefact from all angles, holding it up so that the firelight would illuminate it as fully as possible.

She gasped.

What she was holding was an elaborate statuette. A pangolin was wrestling with some unclear animal foe of similar size, and appeared to be gaining the upper claw. On its back, a proportionally small figure, which Kei recognised as a remarkably careful carving of herself, stood upright at an angle. Stylised waves at her feet implied that she was holding herself in place through chakra adhesion despite the chaos of the melee. In her left hand, mini-Kei held a book, which she was perusing with interest, while her right hand was open in a casual flick, lines of wooden ninja wire trailing behind a series of kunai aimed flawlessly at the enemy creature’s eyes.

No term came to mind other than “badass”.

“Kagome,” Kei said breathlessly, “this is incredible. How long did it take you to make?”

Kagome shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ve been working on it on and off since we got here. I figured I know how to work the wood around these parts pretty well, so why not?

“You really like it?”

“Yes,” Keiko said firmly. “It is wonderful, and should I ever be in possession of a mantelpiece, this statuette will occupy pride of place upon it.”

“My turn next,” Noburi stepped forward into the circle of firelight as Kagome retreated. He opened a small wooden box, in which something glinted.

At his nod, Kei reached in, and drew out… a pair of earrings.

The pale blue steel was forged into the shape of snowflakes, and a small red gem glimmered at the heart of each one. They were magnificent.

“The gem’s meant to symbolise fire,” Noburi explained, for some reason looking as uneasy as Kagome had. “Because of how, y’know, you’re so cool on the outside, and passionate on the inside, and you manage to be both of those things without one smothering or melting the other and, and I got it back in Leaf andIreallyhopeyoulikeit!”

He looked at Kei anxiously.

“They are lovely,” Kei judged. “It is a touching gesture and I will be certain to wear them at appropriate social occasions. Thank you, Noburi.”

“About that,” Noburi said. “I asked the smith, and he said the metal’s weapons-grade. They unhook if you tug them, and if you want, you can sharpen them and use them as hidden weapons. They’re too small to be proper shuriken, but I reckon if anyone’s got the aim to make use of them, it’s you.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Kei said. She smiled again, experimentally, and found that this time also received a positive reception. “I believe I shall do so.”

“And that’s where I come in!” Hazō announced, nearly shoving Noburi out of the way. He held forth a broad rectangle of pale grey stone.

Kei tentatively took it from his hand.

By size, shape, material and context, it was probably a whetstone. However, its surface, instead of being smooth, bore some kind of complex inscription. Was it an unfamiliar alphabet? A symbolic abstract design? Perhaps it was intended as a piece of advanced sealwork?

“You’ve got it upside down,” Hazō said.

It was a group of people seated around a table!

The design was remarkably fine. The people were arranged in pairs. One had a clearly male-female pair, the man with sculpted, enormous muscles and an unhealthily-wide grin, while the woman had long hair and was leaning in against him. One had a figure with a sticking-up ponytail lounging back and another leaning forward in concentration. The next had a small barrel by its side, and the one next to it had exaggeratedly wide eyes, shaking its fist at the heavens.

A ponytailed figure shrank back from another, smaller mass of grinning muscle as the man stood up, hands proudly on hips. A rounded figure reached for a bowl of something while its partner seemed to be slumped, head in hands. And at the centre, larger than the rest, there was a figure with hair in two buns and horizontal fastenings across its clothes, and another with a pair of dice flying from its hand surrounded by flames.

“This way, every time you use it, you’ll remember how awesome you are, and how handily you thrashed some of the world’s greatest ninja gamers,” Hazō said cheerfully. “And as you keep using it, you’ll start making room for new memories, and they’ll be awesome as well.”

Every time she used it, she’d look at that image of herself triumphant. And every time she used it, her eyes would be drawn to the figure of Tenten next to it. Hazō’s gift was both beautiful and double-edged, no less so than Noburi’s.

“Oh,” Hazō said impatiently, “turn it over.”

Kei did. The back had a carving as well. This one was much rougher than the other, and appeared to depict… a nest of giant spiders which had had Kagome’s sealing paper supply upended over it. The entire thing bore a diagonal slash across it, as if to signify the artist’s commitment to protecting the paper stash from such a terrible fate—or possibly the spiders.

“It’s very… symbolic,” she said uncertainly.

“It’s a flowchart,” Hazō explained. “If it looks terrible, that’s because I carved it myself. I used up a mountain’s worth of stone in the process—there’s a storage scroll full of failed attempts that I couldn’t just throw away in case you came across them—because I decided from the start that I wasn’t going to use the Iron Nerve.”

Kei frowned. “Why would you do something so clearly suboptimal?”

“Because the Iron Nerve doesn’t create meaning,” Hazō said. “To a Kurosawa, replicating something is like breathing. It’s casual, superficial, forgettable. But something genuine, something made with will and intent that flows straight from the heart? There’s nothing more precious to us than that.

“You are right that it’s symbolic. And the main thing that it’s symbolic of is how I feel about you. You’re a Mori, with all your Mori skills, and that’s amazing and something to be proud of. But above and beyond whatever pragmatic value you bring to the group, you’re my friend. You’re someone I can respect and trust and be myself with. I don’t feel like I need conversational flowcharts with you.”

Keiko blinked. “And so much of the preceding months is finally explained.”

Noburi burst out laughing, quickly followed by Mari-sensei.

Pandā stared at them for a second. “Oh. Oh, I get it! Because she thinks he does need conversational flowcharts!”

At this, Kagome looked between Hazō and Kei a few times, and then snorted with laughter as well.

“I apologise,” Kei said sheepishly. “I was unable to resist. It is an excellent gift, and your feelings mean a great deal to me. I look forward to making use of it in the times to come.”

“Last but hopefully not least,” Mari-sensei said, drawing Kei’s instant attention, “I have this for you.”

The dress was black, apart from the parts that sparkled. It was long, and judging from its appearance, figure-hugging, and when Kei reached out to touch it, the fabric was softer than anything she’d ever worn. Did she deserve to wear something like this?

“There’s no man—or woman—alive who’ll be able to resist you in this,” Mari-sensei smiled. “When you finally pick a target, this’ll turn your natural beauty into the kunai that pierces them straight through the heart.

“Leaf didn’t have it in your size, but adjusting clothing is one of the thousand skills of the seductress. Seriously, there’s a manual and everything.”

“Wait…” a horrific thought occurred to Kei, “does this mean you know my exact measurements?”

“Of course I do,” Mari-sensei said. “Come on, I’m Inoue Mari. After nearly a year together, I know everybody’s measurements. Give me a little more time, and I’ll figure out Pandā’s too.”

Kei could feel the blush spread through every inch of her body. She had no doubt that she was currently a brighter red than Makiko’s awful crab constructs.

“Mari-sensei,” Noburi said mischievously, “in that case can I have a word with you in private?”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Pandā mercifully distracted him. “I haven’t given her my present yet!”

Mari-sensei fished around in her pack, and produced a hexagonal piece of cloth.

“I couldn’t find the original in the archives, even though I tried really really hard,” Pandā said. “But we have some engravings which show what it’s supposed to look like, so Inoue kindly made me a new copy.”

“But what is it?”

Mari-sensei held up the cloth. The bottom half was a design of hexagons overlapping like pangolin scales, and the top was a set of claws thrusting out from beneath them.

“It’s a patch to sew onto your clothing,” Pandā explained, tail bouncing. “Back when Ui was the Pangolin Summoner, the Polemarch had it made for him to wear on official diplomatic occasions. It’s a symbol for how the pangolins serve as the summoner’s armour and claws, and you put it over your heart to show your love and loyalty for the clan in return.”

Love and loyalty… Yes, tonight Kei felt these things in abundance. More mysterious still, yet impossible to deny, was that she was surrounded by people who also felt love and loyalty for her.