The Distant Ghost
Yuna Kato stood at the gate of Kurogawa with the weight of her father’s severed left hand in a lacquered box, the wood cold against her palms despite the heat radiating from within. She was thirty-two, a retired swordswoman whose hands had forgotten the weight of the blade but remembered the weight of the box, and she needed to bury this relic before the winter solstice to end the family’s...
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