"You have no choice. Consider this a draft," Yachiyo responded flatly, having taken the floor back from Takaoka. Sawatari and the woman she'd called 'Suwa' flinched a little, but she paid them no attention.

"It's a matter of national security. As for what's in it for you?" She smiled, thinly, humorlessly. "I'm surprised to hear something so self-centered from you of all people, Tanemoto. Consider it the price of your attendance at Chitoku. You'll also be receiving the best training and protection our nation has to offer.

"And what sets you apart..."

She strode over to a nearby locker, which clicked open at her touch. The contents were difficult to see from the group's present angle, but she selected something from within and came back to them.

What she thrust out towards them, end-first, was what seemed to be--what could be nothing but--a traditional wakizashi hilt with no blade, ending at the guard. It was a simple, unadorned affair, only notable for being a bit on the bulky side, and a thin line of blue light running vertically along either side. Those close enough to see the kashira, the endcap, might notice characters carefully embossed on it... and scratched out beyond recognition.

"Again, I can't ask you to understand. Not until you've experienced it. Do you trust us?"

She paused, glanced at Miyume and Mirai, and her lips twitched. "At least, do you trust us not to let you die?"