The Courier's Forced Confession

Rain hammers the riverbank road as Arimari bars the courier's retreat with his naginata. The wicker parcel is soaked through, tied fast against the man's chest. The river boils black beside them.

The courier flinches at the name. His gaze snaps toward the water, then back to Arimari's blade. Old Goro's lantern throws a hard yellow glare across the reeds, pinning him in place.

Inside the wicker parcel, something clinks once, heavy and sealed. Whatever it holds is meant to reach Tukeyo, or vanish before he can claim it. The debt is no longer a rumor, it is moving in Arimari's reach.

Arimari drives the naginata point into the courier’s chest. The man jerks, loses his grip, and the wicker parcel drops into the mud with a wet thud.

He freezes, hands half-raised, as rain sheets down his sleeves. Old Goro swings the lantern lower, catching the parcel before the current of runoff can tug it toward the river.

Reina steps in and kicks the parcel aside from the waterline. Its binding has split, and a lacquered box shows through the soaked reeds.

The courier swallows hard and stares at Arimari’s blade. Then he glances at the box, as if counting the cost of every word left unsaid.

Old Goro tightens his grip on the lantern. The courier’s face goes gray as he sees the box fully clear of the mud, still bound for someone else if Arimari lets it go.