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Daiichi couldn't sleep. He had managed to get an early night, but had been lying there for hours, forcing himself to lie still under the cool sheets in the hope that his body would understand it was time to rest. It hadn't worked. He would never admit it, but the rooms themselves, although a tad smaller than his rooms back on his estate, were too opulent, too different. Gold screens caught any faint light there was, and the bed, the sheets, even the feel of the air were subtly different. Across the room, Daiichi could hear Kenji's breathing, regular and slow. He had fallen asleep hours ago, and Daiichi wished he had his talent of falling asleep at will in any circumstances. Finally his frustration meant that even he refused to try and make himself sleep any more, and he rose in silence.

He let himself out without waking the other boy. You were supposed to have an attendant sleep within call so they could fetch you anything you might need in the night, but what Daiichi wanted could not be fetched, and Kenji had been tired too. Daiichi let him sleep. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted. He wanted to be away from the palace for a bit, maybe. It wasn't quiet enough here, there were always distant footsteps and laughter, just at the edge of hearing. Daiichi was used to the night of the estate he ruled, a small castle town in the middle of vast farmlands that fell silent when the sun set. His footsteps led him to the gardens in search of some true quiet. He remembered vaguely seeing a temple-like structure out there, and sought it out. He needed the peace of the Bodhisattvas, rather than the whims of the spirits. He should have brough incense.

When he climbed the steps, his ears caught small shuffling noises - feet on polished wood, the rustle of clothes, and distant breathing. It sounded like someone was dancing.

Daiichi quietly slid one of the door at the side a little open - in an area shadowed even from the moonlight - and stopped just outside, looking in.

There was a woman there - no, a lady, judging by her appearance. She was maybe his age, maybe a little older. Her hair was swept up on her head, and her kimono was a simple red-and-gold style, but you could tell at a galnce it was expensive. But the disparity between style and craftsmanship wasn't the oddest thing about her. She was holding a sword.

She was going through the motions of a sword drill, and for a moment Daiichi stood just looking on, strangely captivated by the fluidity and grace of the almost-familiar motions. Then the politician's part of his mind - the part that always took a second, more critical look at any situation - pointed out her stance, which was unbalanced, and the way her blade wavered all over the place. She had clearly little idea what she was doing. But still, as he watched her dance with the sword, in the dark wooden hall lit by squares of moonlight from the paper walls, he didn't make any move to tear his gaze away.

She was more observant than Daiichi had anticipated. He felt the cold night breeze stir the hairs on the back of his neck, but no sooner had he realised that would give him away than she had turned.

"What are you doing there?"

Her voice left little doubt that she was used to answers being given right away. The corners of Daiichi's mouth lifted a little, and he stepped forward deliberately slowly. He could have slipped away into the shadows, but he didn't entertain the idea even for a moment. He had been challenged.

His gaze rested briefly on Kimiko, but dismissed her as being of no moment. Instead he met the gaze of her mistress squarely, and let his eyes travel down to the substandard sword she was using. He glanced down at her feet, still in the position she had finished her pattern drill in. "You're doing it wrong," he said, blandly. "Your stance is too narrow, and your swings are taking you off balance." As the son of a Great Lord, Daiichi had been having sword fighting lessons since he was seven, and it jarred his perfectionist nature to say nothing.