Dawn came with too many eyes.
Hiroto felt them before he saw them attention pulling at him like invisible threads. When he stepped out of the temporary shelter, the camp was already awake. People stood in loose circles, whispering, watching, waiting.
Waiting for him.
The fire pits had been cleaned. The ground near the riverbank cleared, as if a gathering had been planned without anyone admitting it.
Goro noticed immediately. "They built you a stage."
"I didn't ask for one," Hiroto said.
"No one ever does," Goro replied grimly.
Masanori joined them, expression tight. "They expect words. If you don't speak, someone else will speak for you."
Hiroto nodded. He had known this moment would come the instant he said he would draw boundaries.
Boundaries had to be seen to exist.
By midmorning, the number had doubled.
Villagers from nearby settlements arrived cautiously, drawn by rumor and desperation. Some carried offerings rice, cloth, charms carved from bone. Others carried nothing but questions carved deep into their faces.
Hiroto stepped forward into the open space.
The murmuring faded instantly.
Silence fell not imposed, but given.
That frightened him most of all.
"I won't stand above you," Hiroto said, voice steady but unamplified. "So don't kneel."
Several people froze mid-motion.
Slowly, awkwardly, they stood.
Good, Hiroto thought. Good.
"You've heard stories about me," Hiroto continued. "Some are true. Some are fear wearing a mask."
He gestured toward the river. "I can't protect everyone. I can't stop every disaster. And I won't decide who deserves to live."
A murmur rippled unease, disappointment.
A man shouted, "Then why did the darkness listen to you?"
Hiroto met his gaze. "Because I listened first."
Confusion spread.
"The shadows don't obey me," Hiroto said. "They respond when I refuse to lie to myself or to them."
A woman cried out, "Then teach us!"
The word struck hard.
Hiroto shook his head. "I can't. And I won't."
Anger surfaced now, sharper than fear.
"Why not?" someone demanded. "You hoard safety!"
Goro shifted, hand on his sword.
Hiroto raised a calming hand.
"Because power taken without understanding destroys faster than any monster," Hiroto said. "And belief that replaces responsibility becomes cruelty."
The Sovereign stirred.
Not loudly.
But attentively.
A young man stepped forward eyes bright, voice trembling with devotion.
"If you won't rule," he said, "then let us form a guard. In your name."
Several people nodded eagerly.
Hiroto felt something snap into clarity.
This was the moment.
"No," he said firmly.
The word echoed louder than he intended.
"I will not have people hurt others because they think I approve," Hiroto continued. "No banners. No symbols. No oaths."
The young man's face fell. "Then what do we do?"
Hiroto's voice softened. "Go home. Protect each other. Question anyone who claims to speak for me."
That last sentence sent a visible shock through the crowd.
Masanori exhaled slowly. "That will make enemies."
Hiroto nodded. "I know."
The pressure returned subtle but unmistakable.
Not force.
Opportunity.
Hiroto felt it like a door opening inside his chest.
If he accepted just a little belief would solidify. The Sovereign would have a shape to negotiate with. A hierarchy to exploit.
Hiroto closed his eyes.
"No," he whispered not aloud, but inward.
The shadow responded.
It did not expand.
It withdrew.
A gasp rippled through the crowd as Hiroto's presence whatever they had felt before dimmed slightly.
Not gone.
But human again.
Some people looked relieved.
Others looked betrayed.
That, Hiroto realized, was unavoidable.
The first stone was thrown by a man at the edge of the crowd.
It missed.
But the intent didn't.
Goro moved instantly, intercepting the man before panic could spread. "That's enough."
The man struggled, shouting, "He lied to us! He pretended to be hope!"
Hiroto stepped closer. "I never promised you safety."
The man's eyes were wild. "Then what good are you?!"
Hiroto answered honestly.
"I'm proof that the dark can be refused," he said. "Nothing more."
The man collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
The crowd began to thin some leaving quietly, others angrily, some confused, some thoughtful.
Belief cracked.
But it did not shatter.
High above, on a wooded ridge overlooking the camp, figures observed in silence.
House Saionji.
Their leader, Lady Saionji Rei, lowered her fan slightly.
"He diminishes himself," she said.
Her advisor frowned. "That weakens him."
Rei smiled faintly. "No. It removes leverage."
She turned away. "Prepare the emissary."
By afternoon, the camp was quieter.
Not peaceful.
But honest.
Yui sat beside Hiroto near the river, feet dangling above the water. "Some people hate you now."
Hiroto nodded. "That means they're thinking."
Goro snorted. "You just rejected an army."
"I rejected a mob," Hiroto corrected. "There's a difference."
Masanori approached, scroll in hand. "Reports from Kanezawa. The Council is… unsettled."
Hiroto smiled faintly. "Good."
Masanori studied him carefully. "You just made yourself unpredictable."
Hiroto looked at his reflection in the river.
"That's the point."
The Sovereign's Interest Deepens
Far beyond human sight, something vast adjusted its understanding.
This human did not seek dominance.
Did not seek worship.
Did not seek escape.
That made him dangerous.
And valuable.
The Sovereign did not retreat.
It leaned closer.
As night fell, Hiroto stood alone once more.
The shadow at his feet was quieter now not weaker, but disciplined.
"I won't be your symbol," Hiroto said softly. "And I won't be your gate."
The shadow settled.
Agreement.
Behind him, Kageya's voice echoed faintly from the dark.
"Then you may yet succeed where we failed."
Hiroto didn't turn. "At what cost?"
Kageya's answer was honest.
"Everything that wants to own you."
Hiroto watched the stars emerge.
Let them come.