Kazuki stood outside the war chamber and counted his breaths.
One. Two. Three.
He didn't know why he was early. Only that something in his chest told him he needed to be.
The guards by the door gave him a glance, then a sharp bow.
"Hideyoshi-dono."
He returned the nod and stepped inside.
The chamber was cold. Parchment still rolled up. Stones not yet placed on the campaign map. No one else had arrived. Only the candle by the hearth had been lit. Still short. Still untouched.
He exhaled.
A minute passed.
Then the doors opened behind him. Tadakatsu. Then Mayu.
"Starting without us?" she asked, brushing wind from her sleeves.
"I want to move early today," Kazuki said. "Too much waste in the delay."
"Since when do you hate delay?" Tadakatsu said, half-joking.
Kazuki didn't answer. Just approached the map table and began unrolling the parchment himself.
Mayu shot a glance at Tadakatsu. He shrugged.
Kazuki's hands moved faster than he meant them to. He placed stones as he remembered them from yesterday. No—the last time. Southern ridge. River bend. Flank patrol positions. Enemy fire arcs. It all came back with the wrong kind of clarity.
He didn't look at them while he worked.
He just said, "Pull the scouts back from the forest line. Shift the archers to the west wall. And move civilians into the cellar storerooms."
Silence.
He turned. Both Mayu and Tadakatsu stared at him.
"I'm not asking," he said. "Do it now."
Tadakatsu frowned. "There hasn't been any scout report yet. What are you basing that on?"
"Call it a gut instinct," Kazuki said, too quickly.
Mayu stepped forward. "Hideyoshi-sama… what is this? You were barely coherent yesterday. Today you're talking like you've seen the battle play out already."
Kazuki paused. He hadn't meant to say it. But the words were there.
"I have."
They didn't move.
He looked at the door. Still closed. The horn hadn't sounded yet. Not yet.
There was time.
He swallowed. "This isn't a joke. In a few hours, they'll breach the southern gate. They'll use fire. Not normal fire. Something worse. An alchemist or a war mage, I don't know."
He looked at Mayu.
"You'll be on the outer gate. A scout goes down. You go after him."
Her face darkened.
"You try to pull him back. You don't make it."
"Enough," Tadakatsu said, stepping in.
Kazuki turned on him. "I watched it happen. I smelled her armor burn. I heard the spell before it landed. I—"
He stopped.
His hands were shaking again.
"I know how it sounds. I don't care. Just do what I say."
Tadakatsu's voice was steady. "You're not well."
"I'm not wrong."
Mayu's tone shifted. Soft, careful. "If this is a vision, or something dreamt, we can take precautions. Quietly. But if you act without orders, if you force a repositioning—Rikuya won't let that pass."
Kazuki stepped back.
He saw the moment repeat again behind his eyes. The courtyard in flames. The mask. Her death. His failure.
"I'm not letting that happen again."
The chamber emptied slowly.
Kazuki stood alone with the map, its edges curling slightly in the morning draft. Stones still sat where he'd placed them—south wall bristling, east side hollow. The way it should've been last time.
Footsteps behind him.
Tadakatsu again.
"You can't give orders like that without approval," he said, quiet. "You know how this looks."
Kazuki didn't turn around. "How does it look?"
"Like panic. Or worse."
"I'm trying to keep people alive."
Tadakatsu hesitated. "And if you're right? If it happens the way you said? That means we've lost already."
Kazuki finally turned. "Not if we move now. Before the horn. Before the breach."
Tadakatsu studied him. "You're not the man I saw yesterday."
"I'm not the man you think I am."
That hung in the air for too long.
Tadakatsu gave a faint nod. "Then tell me what to do."
Kazuki's voice was barely above a whisper. "Get the civilians out. Use the kitchen staff and messengers. Quietly."
"And you?"
"I'll buy time."
He slipped out the eastern gate before midday.
No guards posted. Not yet.
He wore light armor beneath his cloak. One blade. No insignia.
He didn't run.
Didn't sneak.
He just walked.
The path to the lower ridge was narrow, a mix of loose stone and hard-packed dirt. Trees lined the trail, still wet with morning dew. Birdsong echoed faintly.
This wasn't desertion. Not in his mind.
It was survival.
He had tried to warn them.
He had told them the truth.
They didn't listen.
They weren't ready.
Not yet.
He reached the old watch stump near the first slope bend, knelt, and drank from a spring-fed trough. The water was clean. Cold. It didn't taste like death.
He almost smiled.
Then came the hoofbeats.
Kazuki didn't look up.
Not right away.
The first voice was Rikuya's.
"Hideyoshi-dono."
The honorific came loaded with contempt.
Kazuki stood slowly.
The squad behind Rikuya wore full gear. No formation. No questions.
He didn't reach for his sword.
But when one of the soldiers stepped forward, hand already on the hilt, something in him rebelled.
He shifted his stance, just slightly. Weight on the back foot. Guard half-formed. Not a threat—but not submission either.
"I warned you," Kazuki said.
"You deserted your command post," Rikuya said flatly. "During a time of imminent war."
"I tried to save lives."
"You tried to escape."
Kazuki's jaw clenched.
"There's an attack coming. Today. Fire. Breach. Southern wall. You'll see."
Rikuya's expression didn't change.
"Then I will see it," he said. "With my men. At my post."
He gave a nod.
Two soldiers advanced this time. One moved wide, the other fast. Kazuki turned slightly, blade still sheathed, breath shallow.
"I don't want to fight you," he said.
One hesitated. The other didn't.
Steel flashed.
Kazuki caught it late. Too slow. The second soldier came in from the flank.
A blade slammed through his gut.
He fell forward, catching himself on his hands.
Breath hitched.
Blood poured into the dirt.
The forest dimmed.
He didn't cry out.
Didn't curse.
The last thing he heard—
Not Rikuya.
Not the soldier.
Not even birdsong.
Just—
Drip.
Tatami.
Again.