Daidoji Fuichi knew that the storm was approaching. He could feel it in his bones. This city would be destroyed, and, if every man-jack among them was not ready, the crew of the Half-Moon as well. His Daidoji ancestors could not let him permit that to happen.
So he sat in the distillery with Asahina Narumi's scrolls spread out before him, feverishly working to carve the letters into the sheets of wood he had taken to using to store his magic. He could leave nothing to chance, not with so much at stake.
