The great hall of Hone Castle was draped in anticipation, preparing for a day that had not dawned for over 150 years—the investiture of a new daimyo. Local nobles, resplendent in their finest clothes, mingled with the official emissaries of the daimyo from the far-off capital, Shihon. The hall, shining with the light of candles reflected on the red pine beams and the newly replaced tatami mats bordered by a rich, dark trim, was filled with a low hum of anticipation. The whisper of socks against tatami mixed with the scent of incense, while above, the ceiling stretched high, dark wood intricately carved with the symbol of the Yamakujira family, two tusks within a circle.

While the nobles and emissaries mingled in the main hall, a small group gathered in the upper north part of the room, where the floor was slightly raised. At the centre of this grand spectacle stood Yamakujira Akihiko, the newly appointed heir to the Shima domain. The air was thick with the memory of his recently deceased father, Yamakujira Nagi. The assembled nobles and emissaries exchanged quiet whispers. Although their confidence in the young heir’s ability to rule wavered, none could deny that Akihiko's presence was growing as imposing as his father’s. He wore a brown kamishimo and hakama over a black kimono with a white nagajuban underneath. The onlookers’ attention was focused on comparing him to his deceased father. His features bore the unmistakable marks of his boar spirit ancestry—sharp ivory tusks, short coarse hair, and yellow eyes with black sclera.

The guests exchanged uncertain glances, their eyes drawn to the subtle tension in his posture. His more animalistic features left them guessing, unsure of the thoughts hidden behind his sharp gaze. For those who looked closely, the brief flicker of doubt in his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. They all knew he was thrust into the limelight after his father’s death and would still be wrestling with the new role he had to embody.

Standing there under their weighty gaze, Akihiko knew he was seen as a boy, uncertain with the weight of the Shima domain resting on his back. He was aware of the wider clan’s approval and the loyalty of the retainers, but the presence of all these important men, as well as the daimyo’s representatives, unsettled him. Moving toward the center of the dais, he sat down in seiza while the murmur of voices quieted, then swelled.

The watchers held their breath, wondering if this young heir would rise to eclipse Yamakujira Nagi’s legacy or fall under the burden as his only trueborn son.

Akihiko’s heart pounded, each beat reverberating around the room, amplifying the weight of every gaze locked upon him. Beneath the ornate layers of tradition, his mind was a sea of emotions, roiling with stress. Though he had practiced this ceremony many times with Saito during the months following the mourning period, he still felt unsure, as every movement, every gesture seemed to scream that he was not ready. After this night, the heavy mantle of leadership will settle on my shoulders—no longer a distant responsibility, but a burden that will become my second skin.

Scanning the crowd, the faces of the nobles, emissaries, servants, and advisors blurred together in a wall of expectation and scrutiny. The pressure of their collective gaze was suffocating; his breaths became shallower as panic set in. Amidst the sea of faces, his eyes found the one he sought—Kaito, his half-human brother, who was both a comfort and a source of anxiety. Kaito, a half-human, half-boar yokai hybrid, had been brought home from Shihon 15 years ago. Akihiko remembered the mix of emotions he felt when Saito first told him their father was bringing back a child. At first, he thought it would weaken the family’s standing due to his father’s dishonourable actions towards his wife and her family. But upon meeting the six-year-old Kaito, Akihiko realised that, as the older brother, he had a responsibility to protect him. Although Kaito was shunned by the advisors and the wider court—tainted by Saito's disdain for half-breeds and humans in general—he was grudgingly accepted by most of the palace’s inhabitants. Kaito, with his human blood and yokai features, had never fully belonged in either world. He looked every bit the boar spirit—tusks, fur, and all—but the court was acutely aware of the human blood that ran through his veins.

Staring at Kaito, Akihiko noticed the phenomenon that had haunted him for as long as he could remember—a strange, shimmering presence clung to his brother’s face like a half-formed mask, only visible when Akihiko focused intently. It was as if looking too closely pulled it into reality. The mask hovered around Kaito's eyes and tusks, almost as though it were trying to merge with the air, hiding in plain sight. Akihiko could see it clearly, yet no one else seemed to notice; their gazes slipped past it as if it didn’t exist.

Once, he’d asked his father about it, but Nagi had just smiled that tight, knowing smile of his and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s our secret—it keeps him safe.”

Those words had settled like a stone in Akihiko’s chest, gnawing at his thoughts. The glamour, or whatever it was, seemed to always be draped over Kaito like a veil that never lifted. From the moment their father had brought Kaito into their home, fresh from the bustling streets of Edo after the biennial sankin kotai, the mask had been part of him, as inextricable from his identity as the blood in his veins. The mask materialised, shimmering faintly, only when Akihiko focused intently on his brother’s face. It was as if the illusion was just beyond the edge of perception, visible to him alone, slipping in and out of sight with the slightest shift in his attention, but no one else seemed to notice. The whispers that accompanied Kaito’s presence were like daggers, a reminder of the strained acceptance his brother faced within the rigid confines of the court.

As Akihiko stood there, watching Kaito linger in the shadows apart from the rest of the court, he felt a surge of determination rather than anger. The strange glamour that clung to Kaito’s face felt like a puzzle that needed solving. He wanted to understand it, to uncover its secrets, and to protect Kaito from whatever threat it might pose. But doubts gnawed at Akihiko’s mind. What if the mask wasn’t just some illusion, but a curse, something dark and sinister woven into Kaito’s very being? Or perhaps it was simply the consequence of his mixed blood, a strange byproduct of his existence as a half-breed, caught between two worlds. Akihiko didn’t know, but the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.

Kaito’s posture was rigid, his composure betraying a mix of resolve and discomfort. Akihiko could see that the more people whispered, the more rigid Kaito’s posture became. The air around him felt colder, as if the grandiosity of the hall was unable to reach him, shrouded as he was in a veil of isolation.

The tension in the room thickened as Saito sniffed deeply, his nostrils flaring with a sudden, sharp intake of breath. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. "I can smell him," he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. Without another word, he leaned toward a nearby guard, his whisper cutting through the air like a blade. “Get him out.” The guard stiffened, understanding the gravity of the order, and looked to Akihiko.

“Why, Saito?” Akihiko thought, a sharp pang of guilt and sadness gripping his heart as his gaze fell upon Kaito’s forlorn figure. Even if Uncle Rekishi died due to humans, don’t put the blame on someone who wasn’t alive then.

The atmosphere grew heavier, as everyone in the hall sensed the impending storm.

Akihiko started, surprise flickering across his features. His instinct was to question, to demand an explanation, but he quickly swallowed the impulse. Saito knows best, he reminded himself, though doubt lingered. Whatever the reasons, they were rooted in the brutal wisdom of court politics, a wisdom that Akihiko knew he had yet to fully grasp. The guard was already moving towards Kaito, and any protest Akihiko might have voiced died in his throat, replaced by a sickening sense of helplessness.

The guard, a stoic figure approached Kaito, whose attention was already drawn toward the commotion. His eyes narrowed slightly as he registered the approach, but he didn’t move. He seemed to be waiting for the order.

Kaito’s expression darkened. His eyes flicked to Akihiko’s, a silent plea for intervention hanging in the air between them, unspoken yet palpable. You’re my brother… please…

But Akihiko couldn’t meet his gaze, his resolve crumbled under the pressure. His gaze lowered, unable to meet the pain in Kaito’s eyes. I can’t…

Kaito’s newly polished tusks caught the light as his head dipped slightly in reluctant acknowledgment. He exhaled softly, a small, bitter smile forming on his lips. 

Saito, stepped forward to address Akihiko, his voice a low, conspiratorial murmur that only Akihiko could hear. “He must leave, my lord,” Saito’s voice was soft, almost fatherly, yet it carried the weight of centuries of tradition and expectation. “The people won’t tolerate his presence here. You know what the humans did to Uncle Rekishi and his family. They could do the same to Kaito.”

Akihiko’s gaze lifted slightly, his eyes locking onto Saito’s as the words washed over him. A tumultuous storm of emotions swirled within him—anger, fear, sadness—all threatening to pull him under. But the cold logic of Saito’s reasoning kept him afloat, the harsh reality of the situation anchoring him in place.

Saito watched them go, his expression inscrutable. “It’s for the best,” he said, almost to himself, though his words were meant for Akihiko. “The court must see you as strong, unyielding. A leader who will put the needs of the domain above personal attachments. I know that you, my lord are protective of family, but sometimes there is need to protect yourself and your position first’

Akihiko’s heart ached, but he nodded, forcing himself to accept the harsh reality that had been thrust upon him. “Yes,” he whispered, more to himself than to Saito. “I know.”

But as he watched Kaito’s retreating figure, his shoulders hunched in defeat, Akihiko couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just made a terrible mistake. The pain in Kaito’s eyes, the unspoken plea for understanding, haunted him, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.

I’m sorry, Kaito… but I have to do this. For the sake of the domain.