“I came here to do just that—to stop you,” Jikei declared, looking straight at him.
Ko grimaced.
Why would he do such a thing?
He felt a rush of emotion surge inside of him, making him bite his lip.
The light seeping out from the doorway subtly illuminated the surrounding area. Seki and Jo’s younger sister were beside the main house, standing close together.
“Go inside,” Jikei called out to them.
The pair nodded and turned in the direction of the main building—before abruptly coming to a halt and looking toward the entrance to the workshop. Their eyes were wide in astonishment.
“Jo!” Seki shouted, but his voice was almost drowned out by the young girl shrieking beside him.
When Ko turned around, he noticed a peculiar glow coming from inside the workshop—it was on fire.
Firewood had been pulled out of the furnace, and the flames had spread to woodchips scattered across the floor. The spinning wheel was burning, and so was all the yarn that had been spun. Everything in the workshop was highly flammable. With the flames raging on behind him, Jo gathered his woodworking planes together and wrapped them in cloth.
It was clear he was the one who started the fire.
The young girl sank to her knees in the snow, and Seki tried to hold her up. With one plane in hand, Jo slowly made his way out of the workshop. The flames lit up the plane’s blade, making it gleam in the darkness of the night.
Jo began running toward Ko while clutching the plane with both hands, holding it near his waist. Understanding what Jo’s goal was, Ko stood stock still.
Ko intended to make sure the other man went through the plan, even if it meant forcing his hand. Had Jo believed that now was his only opportunity to flee the mountains?
Ko had egged him on. Rationally speaking, the man from the Saname clan was ready to accept his fate—and yet his heart was screaming for him to run.
But he couldn’t bring himself to move.
“You idiot!” Jikei bellowed.
Ko felt himself being shoved out of the way. The blade of the plane that Jo was holding glistened in the snow.
Fresh blood scattered on the ground—the blade had pierced Jikei’s side. The older man fell to his knees, clutching his wound.
Ko went to scream out his name, but no sound would leave his lips. Gasping for breath, Ko crouched down next to him.
“Mmmh,” moaned Jikei. It almost sounded as if he was responding to someone’s question.
Jo moved out of the way and disappeared into the snow. Seki and the girl embraced each other as they sunk to the ground. Their faces were pale, and their mouths hung open in shock. Ko quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t afford to be flustered.
“I’ll carry him to a nearby house. Give me a hand, won’t you?” Ko asked Seki as he slung Jikei’s arm over his shoulder.
Seki was still pale, but he nodded repeatedly and staggered to his feet. The girl still covered her face, crying.
“Wait… Don’t worry about me,” said Jikei in something of a groan, waving his hand dismissively. “He just grazed my side… I might be bleeding, but it’s nothing serious. It’s the fire you need to worry about. Get some people together to put it out. I’m sure they’ll come over anyway, but still…”
Ko could make out some hurried-looking people dashing over from the surrounding houses, just as Jikei predicted.
“Seki, go and tell the chief about the fire. We can just let that woodworker go on his way—not that he’d be able to get very far in this blizzard, anyway.”
“O-of course!” Seki then scampered away, almost tripping over his own feet as he went.
“Jikei,” said Ko. He was convinced that he was underplaying his injury.
“I’m not staying here,” asserted Jikei. “I hate to put this on you, but could you give me a hand? I want to get back to the Yusoku tribe…”
“You can’t—not in this snow, and not with that injury.”
Unsurprisingly, Jikei’s wound truly was severe—so severe that he needed help walking.
“I can’t just stay here. If word gets out that a member of the Yukei tribe has injured me, it’ll cause a fuss.”
Ko said nothing to that. He encouraged the woodworker to cause a nuisance—but in the end, it was Jikei who took the hit to defend him.
“Go down that slope over there, then around to the entrance of the settlement. Near there is the house of the old man you met when you first arrived. He’ll be able to take care of things for us.”
Ko bit his lip, then lifted Jikei up and began to walk ahead. However, maneuvering through snowy paths with a well-built man in tow during a blizzard wasn’t easy. Their destination wasn’t actually that far away, but it may as well have been over the mountain pass.
The old man had noticed the ruckus surrounding the fire, and was already outside, looking concerned. He panicked when he spotted Jikei and Ko, but when Jikei asked him not to make a scene, he nodded understandingly and quietly invited the pair inside.
The room was warm inside, which came as a relief. The old man got Jikei to undress and checked his stab wound.
“I see. If it hadn’t been for your fur coat and woolen clothing, you may well have lost your life. You’re pretty sturdy, so I doubt you’ve sustained any injuries to your bowel either. That gash hurts, I’m sure, but you don’t have much to worry about.”
The old man knew a lot about anatomy, likely because he was a hunter. He took a small bottle off a shelf with some sort of clear oil inside of it—horse oil, he explained. The old man applied it to Jikei’s wound, wrapped a bleached cotton cloth around it, and then had him lie down on the bed. He began brewing a decoction in the pot over the stove, and the distinctive scent of medicine started to drift through the air.
“You’re strong, Yozetsu. I’m sure you’ll manage to walk back tomorrow,” he said.
“Yeah…”
Would he really? Ko sat down at Jikei’s bedside and took a look at him. His face was pale—perhaps due to the blood he’d lost—and he seemed irrefutably incapacitated.
“Selling salt can be a risky business. Sometimes, people try to steal your stock. An injury like this is nothing compared to some of the things that can happen,” Jikei said slowly, his eyes shut.
Ko hung his head. “Why… Why did you have to cover for me? He was just doing what I encouraged him to do—what I wanted him to do.”
“Never in a million years could you convince me that was what you wanted,” said Jikei. His voice was quiet enough to suggest that his wound was causing him even more pain. He let out an aggrieved sigh.
“I’m sorry. Don’t push yourself to talk,” said Ko, but Jikei carried on.
“That wasn’t what you wanted,” he said, essentially repeating himself.
Ko pressed his hand against his forehead.
“You wanted to escape. The entire time, you looked overcome by the urge to run away.”
“That’s not true…”
“It is. You can escape, you know. You’ve worked hard. You can leave. Come and stay with me—I have no heir, after all.”
Ko covered his face with his hands and pressed his forehead against the mattress. His palms were wet, and his tears seeped into the fabric. Jikei patted his head with his large hand. Ko suddenly remembered that his father had never really touched him, let alone patted his head like this.
Jikei stroked Ko’s back, and although the young man was still face-down against the mattress, he could feel the comforting warmth of Jikei’s big hand through his clothing.
The workshop burned to the ground, leaving no trace behind. Jo was quickly caught during the blizzard, and the chief of the Yukei tribe decided to banish him from the mountain.
Just like the old man had said, Jikei made such a speedy recovery that he was able to walk unaided the following day, and a few days later, he and Ko were able to leave the mountains together.
And rather than return home, Ko made his way to Kai Province—and never stepped foot in Ga Province again.