Story:

Kicho read the passage again.

Slowly, her shoulders lowered.

“So this book cannot tell me whether our Danna-sama survives.”

“No,” Peach said. “It cannot.”

That answer hurt, but it was an honest hurt—one Kicho could finally hold without mistaking it for a death announcement.

Beside her, Violet laid a hand over the edge of the biography.

“We frightened ourselves with another world’s grief,” she said quietly.

Peach slid the diagram between them.

“Keep this,” she told them. “And before either of you declares revenge on anyone else, check which circle they belong to.”

Kicho gave a small, embarrassed sniff.

Then she took the paper, smoothed its corners with both hands, and folded it carefully into her notebook.

She understood the explanation.

But Kicho still clenched her teeth, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and declared, fiercely, each word bitten off:

“Even so—when I return, I will insist that Danna-sama execute that traitor, Mitsuhide, no matter what! I will not leave him lurking beside my husband, smiling behind his back!”

Her hands curled into fists. The last traces of tears glittered in her eyes, but beneath them burned an unmistakable fire of vengeance.

“And Honnō-ji!” she added, her voice rising again.

“With my own hands, I will burn that temple down until nothing remains but bare, scorched earth!”