Akihiko yawned internally, looking around the packed hall. He wished he was back in Edo. The streets alive with a riot of people. The multicoloured hues of everyone's silken clothing contrasting the earthen colours of the hall. Primary secondary and tertiary colours intermingling like wildflowers in a field, corralled by order. Paradoxically, he felt both lonely on the raised dias and dwarfed by the crush of people in the cavernous hall. Months of preparation had led to this moment, and now, hesitation crept in. Was he truly faltering? He was the one above all these vassals and courtiers. This event was for him.

This hall had not been used for an investiture in the last 80 years. The hall was shining with the light of candles reflected on the brown pine beams, the ceiling stretched high, and dark wood intricately carved with the symbol of his family, two tusks within a circle. Carefully watching the nobles, resplendent in their finest who mingled with the official emissaries from the far-off capital Akihiko turned his head and stared at the small group of advisors, including Father’s old friend and head advisor, Yuta, who’s small tusks had been freshly polished in honor of this occasion. 

Shifting slightly in his uncomfortable ceremonial clothes which stuck against his skin. 

Noticing that the nobles and emissaries below the dias were exchanging whispers, he felt that the air was thick with the memory of his recently deceased father, comparing him to his legacy. To Akihiko, the watchers seemed to be wondering if this young heir would rise to eclipse Yamakujira Nagi’s legacy or fall under the burden as his only trueborn son.

The room was alight with murmurs, fragments of conversation drifting in and out of Akihiko’s hearing. Fragmented sentences filled the air like the fluff from a dandelion. The assembled guests spoke of everything from idle gossip—“My retainer’s first wife was eaten”—to unsettling rumors—“A resurgence of the human eating ghosts near Edo, the barrier should keep them out.”—and even politics—“This growing dissatisfaction with the Daimyo’s laws.” Yet most of the chatter revolved around the Yamakujira Daimyo, both past and present. Whispers questioned his ability to rule—“Yamakura-dono seems weak”—while others remarked on his father’s untimely death—“Killed by an arrow, can you believe it?” A neighbor dismissed his cremation altogether as “a waste of a body.” Akihiko tensed in an an affront to the nameless guest’s flippant desecration. Well, Why are you so worried about the waste of a body, you are one of the richest people here, buy your own.

The guests exchanged uncertain glances, their eyes drawn to the tension and indecision in his posture. For the human guests from the capital, his more animalistic features surely left them guessing, unsure of the thoughts hidden behind his gaze. Those who sat close in the position of honor, said that the recurring flickers of doubt betrayed Akihiko’s inner turmoil. It must’ve been easy for them to tell that he was thrust into the limelight after his father’s death and he was still 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. While he was aware of the approval and loyalty of the retainers, the presence of all these important men, as well as the Daimyo’s representatives, unsettled him. Beneath the ornate layers of tradition that were hammered into him from a young age, his mind was reeling with stress. Though he had practiced elements of this ceremony many times with head advisor Yuta during the weeks following the traditional mourning period, he still felt unsure, as if every movement, every gesture, seemed to scream that he was not ready.

—

Akihiko’s heart pounded, each beat reverberating around the room, amplifying the weight of every gaze locked upon him. 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. While I will be supported by Yuta and the other advisers, I know that my rule will make or break my legacy.

Amidst the sea of faces, his eyes found Kaito, his half-human brother. 

Kaito had arrived from Edo twenty years ago, a half-human, half-boar yokai hybrid, a bastard. A youngling, just eight years old. Akihiko’s first impression of him had been one of disbelief and confusion. His father’s illegitimate son, a half-blood, nothing more than a stain on the family name, or so the rumors went of unwanted prodigy moved to far-off stations to continue their existence in solitude working for their betters. Akihiko had grown up hearing that humans were inferior, nothing more than tools and entertainment to serve the higher beings. Automatically restricted to being Hinin; butchers, gravediggers as well as other lower class occupations such as  entertainers and merchants. But Kaito’s arrival was a complication he couldn’t simply ignore. As a half-human automatically he was better than other humans due to his superior genetics. But still, he had some charming softness, some humanity seen in every movement. So small, only up to his chest. Akhiko’s fist the size of his head. 

As Akihiko sat there, watching Kaito linger in the shadows, sitting behind a large beam, he thought, To mould him in my image, I will need to show the court that humans, even half humans can be useful. If I allow him to prove his worth by being my advisor in actuality, not just as a plaything, it would prove my own wisdom in keeping him. He is now mine to protect. Mine to mold. Mine to keep. No one else should ever touch him if I do not wish it.

For his sake, I had to make them see that humans—however pitiful—had value.

—

Moving out of his reverie and fixing his focus on his brother’s face, Akihiko noted that Kaito seemed uncomfortable with all the unknown people around him. The more people whispered, the more rigid Kaito’s posture became. The air around him seemed colder and darker, shielding him and bringing attention to him in turn. 

Akihiko started as Yuta 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. He then leaned toward a nearby guard, his next words cutting through the air like a blade. “Get him out.” The guard stiffened and looked at Akihiko.

Everyone in the hall sensed the swirling storm.

Surprise flickered across Akihiko’s features. His instinct was to question, to demand an explanation, but he quickly swallowed the impulse. Yuta knows best, he reminded himself, though doubt lingered. Whatever the reasons, they were rooted in Yuta’s knowledge of court politics, a wisdom that Akihiko knew he had yet to fully grasp. 

The guard approached Kaito whose attention was already drawn toward the whispering at the Jodan. His eyes narrowed slightly as he registered the approach, but he didn’t move. He seemed to be waiting for the order he knew was coming. As Akihiko sensed Kaito's aversion to taking orders from others, he gestured for him to leave, to obey his lord's command.

Kaito’s freshly polished tusks gleamed in the light, and his head lowered slightly in reluctant acknowledgment. A soft exhale escaped his lips, carrying a faint, bitter smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Noting the tension, Yuta stepped forward to address Akihiko, his voice a low, conspiratorial murmur that only Akihiko could hear. “I know you feel conflicted but he must leave, my lord,” Yuta’s voice was soft, fatherly. “Most guests won’t tolerate his presence here, especially the Inohara…”

Akihiko’s gaze lifted slightly, his eyes locking onto Yuta’s as the words washed over him.

Yuta watched Kaito go, his expression inscrutable. “It’s for the best,” he said quietly. “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 your family no matter how murky the bonds, but sometimes there is a 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. I know.”

But as he watched Kaito’s retreating figure, shoulders hunched unconsciously 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. While I know you would not try to usurp me, some still fear. You need to show your acceptance of the proper order of things.

The last glimpse of Kaito, his face turning slightly as if desperately wanting to see his brother’s inauguration, struck a deep chord within Akihiko. He watched as Kaito disappeared into the shadows of the palace, a part of him longed to reach out to stop this from happening, but duty and his knowledge that he needed to enforce the proper social stratification held him back, a constant reminder of the responsibilities he couldn’t ignore now that he was the leader.  Why did Father go on that ill-fated hunt? I feel ill-prepared.  I remember Kaito conferring to me once I had arrived in the domain that he believed if Father did not have the respect of his advisors and retainers, many would try to get him thrown out. Now with me as the new, untested Daimyo, I must protect him. I must make everyone know he is mine.

Akihiko knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, the balance between duty and family was delicate, and the path forward was unclear. But he was determined to uphold his duties with honor. 

Yuta, sensing Akihiko’s inner turmoil, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before moving away. The gesture was meant to offer comfort, but it only deepened Akihiko’s sense of isolation. A priest then approached him.

The venerable priest stood beside him, his robes cascading in deep indigo and gold. In his hands, he held a sakaki branch, its vibrant green leaves gleaming under the candlelight.

“With the blessings of the kami and our ancestors,” the Head Priest intoned, his voice reverberating through the expansive hall, “we consecrate Akihiko as the new Daimyo of Shima. Under the blessed eye and blood below, we witness Akihiko, one of the faithful partake in you.”

A bowl was brought out, sake mixed with some bloodstone, the bloodstone assimilated like salt in water. 

Akihiko’s gaze swept over the crowd, taking in their reactions. The weight of their scrutiny was palpable, a pressure that pressed down on him. He could feel their eyes on him, measuring, judging. 

He lifted the shallow bowl to his mouth, remembering his fathers warnings. Do not waver, Face with strength. He was worried, Father was the first man to face the great fish, when he was still young. Only 82. Now Akihiko would face the land spirit at nearly half that age, only 42. Though many Sows had faced it at this age he was still worried. Will he meet the expectations of the past or will he falter under the pressure. 

As the priest finished his blessings and Akihiko choked down the undissolved grains, Yuta approached Akihiko with deliberate steps. In his hands, he held Nagi’s favorite katana, its blade sharp and meticulously maintained. The wave hamon pattern in the steel shimmered under the dim light, a mesmerizing dance of silver and shadow. To Akihiko’s eyes, these waves in the steel became waves that hapless travellers were navigating, future forces of righteousness smiting the hapless and cowardly. 

The reflection suddenly shuddered, warping like a stone ripples water in a pond. The travellers now deluged in a sea of monsters.

The shape of his face darkened, its edges stretching, teeth rising like a grotesque crown of fangs atop his head. His own eyes—no, not his—crystallized, glistening like bloodstone, spilling from his mouth in an endless stream, vanishing into the void of his throat.

A blink.

It was gone.

The blade was just a blade again, steel and wave patterns, nothing more. The ceremonial chamber hummed with quiet reverence, the murmuring of the priest’s final words continuing uninterrupted.

Yuta’s expression remained neutral, as if he hadn't noticed anything.

Akihiko exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had seen nothing. There was nothing to see.

And yet, the katana felt colder than steel should be as it settled into his hands.

Yuta bowed deeply, presenting the katana with reverence. “May this sword symbolise your authority and the justice you uphold, Lord Yamakujira,” he said, his voice steady and grave.

Akihiko hesitated for a moment, the title feeling heavy and unfamiliar. It had always been his father’s, a mantle of responsibility and power that Akihiko never imagined would fall to him so soon.

As his fingers closed around the hilt of the sword, the cool, heavy weight of the weapon was a reminder of the authority it represented. He glanced down at the blade, its polished surface reflecting not just the ornate hall but his own uncertain expression. The sword was a symbol of his new role, but it also carried the weight of his doubts. Am I truly ready to wield such power? Will the Tsukumogami within accept me?

“I accept this role and pledge to rule with fairness and uphold the honour of my position,” Akihiko declared, his voice echoing within the hushed hall. But will I really? All the leadership stuff I know is all exercises and the past examples of my Father. Lucky Kaito was made to help shoulder this burden. Even as he spoke, the shadows of his father’s legacy loomed large, and the burden of expectation was almost overwhelming but he knew Kaito would help shoulder that burden with him.

As the ceremony continued, Akihiko’s thoughts were a storm of conflicting emotions. Yuta’s presence at his side was a constant reminder of the support he could rely on, but Akihiko couldn’t ignore the absence of Kaito. The isolation of the full and half-breeds, like the isolation of humans and yokai, was necessary for the stability of the wider population, or so he had been told, but he wished it didn’t have to be this way. The hall began to empty. Nobles and the shogun’s representative, having fulfilled their duties, departed for the feast with a mixture of formality and hidden relief. The grand spectacle was over, but for Akihiko, the true challenge was just beginning.