“This is true,” Roku agreed. “Would threats work?”
“Pain,” Ōkami continued, his gaze never once falling from the trunk.
Roku’s smile was fierce, almost as though he relished the prospect. “Would that work? If I threatened you with pain, would you cooperate?”
Ōkami remained unconcerned. Raiden nodded again toward the imperial guards, and the lock on the cell door unlatched with an ominous series of clicks.
Roku sighed. “It troubles me that we cannot share a meeting of minds even on this very simple matter, Lord Ranmaru.”
A grin coiled up one side of Ōkami’s face, accentuating a diagonal scar through his lips. “My mind exists on a mountain. Yours exists in a field. Should the mountain kneel before the field?” He bared his white teeth in a dark smile, then nodded to the straw before him. “Or will the field crawl to me?”
“You traitorous swine.” Stepping into the cell, Raiden freed his blade from its saya with a rasp. “You will address your heavenly sovereign with respect.” His words were as sharp as a reaping scythe, his weapon raised with murderous intent.
At that, Ōkami looked up. The moonlight sifting through the slatted window above bent as though it were reaching for him. But he remained just beyond its grasp, the scar through his lips turning silver.
“So soon,” he murmured.
Raiden blinked. “What?”
“I’ve learned your weakness so soon, Prince Raiden.”
His eyes narrowing, Raiden drew back his blade and struck the stone wall a hairsbreadth from Ōkami’s head, and a shower of golden sparks descended around them.
“Brother …” Roku said quietly. “Patience.”
“You yearn for respect, even in a world designed to offer it to you, without question,” Ōkami continued, his black stare unflinching. “But maybe it was withheld by someone as a child. Or perhaps you predictably despise your fate?” He lowered his voice. “Firstborn, yet destined for nothing.”
Just as Raiden drew back his sword a second time, Roku raised his hand to silence them both. “And what is your weakness, Lord Ranmaru?” the emperor asked his prisoner.
As expected, Ōkami did not answer.
“Very well, then.” Roku inhaled, ever the picture of patience. “Will you answer my questions if I call you Ōkami instead? I’ve heard you prefer it. I’m willing to grant you that boon.”
Ōkami lifted his chin. Leaned his head against the wall, his unbound hair falling from his bruised face as he met the emperor’s gaze. “You wish to know my weakness? Interesting that you would ask for it so openly. Perhaps you are not what I thought you would be.” He unfolded his palms, holding them at either side of his body, as though he concealed nothing. “Or perhaps that is exactly what you wish for me to think.”
Roku smiled again, and the expression crinkled the corners of his eyes, marring an otherwise smooth countenance. “Perhaps you are wrong about one thing and right about another. Only through honest discourse will we know.”
Ōkami laughed drily. “You may ask whatever you wish, But I do not owe you a response.” Easing forward, he raised a knee to rest an elbow upon it, his chains clanking.
“Integrity,” Roku began.
Almost imperceptibly, Ōkami’s eyes narrowed.
Roku continued. “Courage and benevolence.”
Though he did not lower his katana, Raiden sent a quizzical glance his younger brother’s way.
“Respect, honesty, honor.” Roku paused. “Loyalty.”
Ōkami shifted, the dirty straw beneath him rustling with his chains.
The puzzlement emanating from all sides seemed to imbue the young emperor with strength, as though he enjoyed playing the role of a mystery. He stood taller, his gaze focused. “You are the son of a famous samurai. Which tenet of bushidō is your weakness?” Roku took five paces to one side of the cell before retracing his steps as though he were on an afternoon stroll. “Which of your many failings gives you fear in the dead of night?”
Ōkami did not answer.
“A thousand apologies.” Roku clasped his hands behind his back, his remark failing to sound the least bit apologetic. “Ōkami. The Honshō Wolf. The Dog of Jukai Forest,” the emperor said in a soft tone, the jibe nevertheless sharp. “With a kennel of filthy bitches at his back.”
The shadows in Ōkami’s face hollowed further as his lips pressed into a frown—the first sign that the emperor’s words had any lasting effect on him.
“Very well, then,” Roku continued. “Ōkami … I will trade my weakness for yours. I will tell you what it is I fear most, in exchange for you doing the same.”
After a moment of silence, an amused snort followed. “I think not.”
“You refuse to barter with your enemy?” Roku offered him yet another close-lipped smile.
“No. I refuse to barter with you.”
The emperor stopped his pacing and turned in place to meet the eyes of his prisoner. “I’ve heard many say your father was the same kind of willful man. It cost him his life, though it gained him nothing. My father often remarked that Lord Shingen was the greatest of all fools. One who thought principle was of more value than action.”
“Insulting my father will not provoke a response from me, nor will trading smiles as though we are old friends. I expected better of you, Minamoto Roku.” Ōkami returned the same thin smile, irony curling its edges. “Why don’t you just kill me? That’s what your father would do. That’s all that men of your ilk know how to do when faced with a challenge.” He crossed his arms. “Kill me and be done with it.” His tone turned mocking. “Then you can rule the Empire of Wa unchecked, like a true leader. Is that not your dream, Roku-chan? To remain an unchecked child for all time?”
A roar of fury flew from Raiden’s lips at the insult to his younger brother. To his emperor. Raiden balled his armored fingers into a fist and levied a backhanded blow to Ōkami that sent the latter reeling into the greying straw.
As his elder brother kicked their prisoner in the chest, Roku waited patiently, an odd look of bemusement settling onto his features.
His face seething with hatred, Raiden continued raining blows on Ōkami until Roku lifted a hand, directing his brother to cease. Ōkami spat blood into the straw and took in a wheezing breath before pushing back onto his heels. He coughed to clear his throat. Then he paused to stare up at the emperor, the signs of lingering humor at odds with his broken, bloodied face. “It appears insults do have an effect on your brother. How predictable.”
“Insults are indeed a base form of intimidation,” Roku replied, not seeming to care about the slight tossed his brother’s way in the process. “I agree they are the least effective in situations like this. But it is not often that I encounter a foe of a similar mind.” He gestured for the shadowy man holding the trunk to step forward. “And since we agree on these matters, there’s no need to waste time on such baser means of intimidation.”
Ōkami did not balk. “I am not afraid of pain.”
The smile that spread across the emperor’s face began with an unnerving kind of sweetness. It widened into something wicked, tinging the air with an oddly saccharine scent. “But I am not talking about your pain, Ōkami.”
For a moment, he was met once more with silence. Then Ōkami leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You have nothing to gain from harming any of the men unfortunate enough to call me friend.”
“I will be the judge of that.” Roku resumed his pacing. “Any man unfortunate enough to call you friend would also be unfortunate enough to possess vital information.”
“What information?” Ōkami laughed cuttingly. “Do you wish to know upon which rock I lay my head in the forest? Or perhaps it is important for you to learn how I prefer my tea.”
“Or maybe I wish to know how you enjoy your meals,” Roku said. “I’ve heard your cook was quite excellent—a relic of your father’s household, was he not? A shame I could not meet him. I’ve been searching for loyal servants. But, alas, I’ve heard this particular servant will be of service to no one.” A deliberate pause. “Ever again.”