39
Masanori
Black silk broke away to lush green grass as Masanori rushed out of the temple grounds and toward the Crimson Gardens. He wove through the crowd of fellow mourners, stumbling over his own feet in search of Aihi.
She moved along the winding path toward a stone bridge. Black pine decorated one side of the trail, a tranquil rock garden on the other.
“Aihi,” he called out, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
She walked slow, unaware of the world around her. Masanori caught up and reached for her sleeve.
“Aihi—”
She grabbed his arm and knocked him onto his back. A tantō appeared in her hand, and she pinned him to the bridge. The cold blade touched Masanori’s throat. He held his breath, stunned by Aihi’s distant expression, like a part of her had left the world with the funeral sm
