A Sword's Poem

by Leah Cutter

  There were too many questions still, even with Hikaru’s confession. Kayoku firmly turned her mind away from everything tangled up on this earth, though.

  Kayoku would pass from this world soon enough. There would be more than enough mysteries for her to explore later, in the land of the eternal cherry blossoms.

  Five

  How Dim The Sun

  Hikaru

  How dim the sun looked when I first opened my eyes. I couldn’t understand it. No clouds marred its brilliance. The sky looked blue and perfect through the tiny window above where I lay. Birds sang in the distant trees. The scent of sweet candles overwhelmed any of the other scents that I might have used to place myself, though I knew where I was: the estate, in an outer sickroom.

  Still—the sun had paled, as if it were now covered in mist that only I could see.

  I struggled to sit up on my sleeping mat. The only time I’d felt this weak was after I’d been shot by Junichi’s evil arrows. Surely I wasn’t injured as well?

  No single place on my body hurt, however. Instead, my entire body ached in a way I’d never experienced before.

  I took a deep breath to warm my blood, heal myself…and found only a cavernous void where my magic had once lived.

  I wept, then, my eyes well used to the tears. But I didn’t cry for Norihiko, or my past mistakes. No, that morning, I wept for myself and my foolishness.

  Finally, a priestess came in the room to see to me. I automatically tried to charm her, to hide my tears and be other than who and what I was: a sick human woman with a thrice–broken heart.

  I failed, of course. There was no magic left in me. I could tell by the pitying smile she gave me, her solicitous tones as she asked how I was that morning.

  “Better,” I lied. “I’d like some tea, now.”

  At her puzzled look, I realized how my tone must have sounded to her. I was used to my magic sweetening and softening anything I might say, making my requests always sound reasonable, causing people to be eager to do as I asked.

  “Please,” I added. My heart sank. I was going to have to relearn how to talk with humans now, how to move through the world.

  How to be human, myself.

  There wasn’t anyone I could ask about it. No one I could learn from. I was going to have to do it all myself.

  I couldn’t contain my heavy sigh. How foolish I’d been to let go of my fairy powers so easily! I’d had no choice, though.

  I reached out and touched Seiji’s scabbard. Though the sword might hate me for killing its wielder, at least I’d saved it from a worse fate. I shivered again, remembering Masato’s threat of drowning the sword.

  Someday, soon, I would break the curse. Or rather, my sisters would, since I had no magic. They’d free Norihiko’s soul so he could pass beyond this vale of tears, go to Heaven as had always been his destiny.

  I’d die of a broken heart at that time, I knew. But maybe somewhere beyond the world we’d unite again, in the world of eternal cherry blossoms.

  I wiped away the tears that came back to my eyes, determined to stride forward instead of always looking back with regret. When the shoji opened, I put on my best smile and turned toward the door.

  I kept my smile in place though I was shocked to see Kayoku, the head wife, kneeling there with my tea.

  “Good morning,” I told her. I even bowed my head toward her. Not a proper bow, but at least I tried to show some level of respect.

  “Good morning,” Kayoku replied.

  She seemed startled to see me this way. “How are you this morning?”

  “Well,” I told her, though I didn’t know if I was or not. Who could tell, in such a complicated body? It didn’t respond the way I thought it would at all.

  “That’s good,” Kayoku said, coming into the room. She set the tea service down and looked at me critically.

  The smell of the tea made my mouth water. I longed to clear it, wash out the cobwebs in it. Yet Kayoku made no move to serve me. She continued to just stare at me. Was I supposed to serve her? I’d never paid attention to such niceties before. And was her look rude? I wished I could shun it, divert her eyes, make them slide off me so she couldn’t actually see me, see how weak I’d become.

  “You do look better,” Kayoku finally said. “You’re not as pale as you were. And your face has a healthy flush to it, not fevered.”

  “Thank you,” I told her, wondering. How sick had I been? I looked at the tea with longing.

  Kayoku gave me an indulgent smile and reached for the pot, pouring out two cups, and handing me one.

  I tried to wait. I truly did. It was only polite to let the host take the first sip. At least that much I’d learned. But my mouth was so dry! My body felt parched. I took a polite sip, then gulped the rest down quickly, holding my cup out for more.

  “You may want to slow down,” Kayoku said filling my cup again. “You’ve been sick for quite a few days. Your stomach isn’t going to be able to handle much, yet.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, stopping myself before I gulped down the second cup. “Days?” Hadn’t I just arrived the night before? Slogging through the rain, determinedly dragging Seiji behind me?

  “You’ve been ill for three days and four nights,” Kayoku informed me. “Fevered and walking between worlds.”

  Three days? How could I have lost three whole days? “I’ve never been sick like that before,” I said, horrified. What must they think of me, being so ill? Were humans regularly ill like that? I had no idea.

  I took a demure sip of my tea, though I longed to drink it down as quickly as I’d finished the first cup. Three days. I had nothing better to do than to look forward to the rest of my life being counted in illnesses and days like this morning, when I was weak and still recovering.

  I reached out and touched Seiji’s scabbard, telling myself that my sacrifice was justified, or would be, once I broke the curse and set my mate’s soul free. Then I could free myself as well, leave this land of tears and go to the land of eternal cherry blossoms.

  “You said…you said many things while you were sick,” Kayoku told me cautiously.

  I nodded. That didn’t surprise me. My mother, in her illnesses, frequently ranted about what she’d seen, the injustices done to her.

  “You claimed that Seiji contained the soul of your mate,” Kayoku said, staring directly at me.

  What could I say? I wasn’t going to deny it. The humans would declare me mad, but that was all right with me—maybe I was a little mad.

  “It does. The soul of my mate Norihiko was stolen and reforged into the sword Seiji, by the evil Taoist sorcerer Junichi,” I said, bracing myself for her derision or laughter.

  Instead, Kayoku merely nodded. “And you gave up your powers to free him?” she asked.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Even in my rantings I’d deflected the truth. “I gave up my powers to obtain him,” I told her honestly. Then my heart fell. Had I admitted the truth of it? Had I told her about her husband?

  “And Iwao?” Kayoku asked coldly.

  My sorrow tripled. “I killed him,” I admitted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I had the weirdest sense that I’d already said that to her once before. Maybe I had, when I’d been sick. I didn’t remember, though.

  “I see,” Kayoku said coldly. She placed her teacup down on the tray and stared at it.

  Was she mastering her own sorrow? Had she cared for her husband? I watched her carefully, both trying to learn from her as well as preparing myself for the worst.

  “Masato has already sent his letter of intent,” Kayoku said after a few long moments. “He expects proper lists and inventory of the estate, all his property.”

  I didn’t understand her bitterness at that. Wasn’t that how it was always done with humans, when they lost a battle?

  “You will help me prepare for our new lord,” Kayoku told me. “By this afternoon, I expect you to be in the kitchen, working with the servants, listing things there. You can read and
write, can’t you?”

  From her derisive tone, I think she expected me to admit to illiteracy. “I can,” I told her, pride filling my voice. “I have quite a neat hand. I can also write in Chinese as well as kanji.” Kana was used primarily by the women of the court, while men and scholars wrote in kanji.

  “I thought as much,” she said, sounding disgusted. “Very well. I shall expect you there mid–morning, at the hour of the snake.”

  I wanted to protest. That was so early! And I was still so weak, my body not under my command.

  On the other hand, my body would never be the same, not completely under my control, not as it once had been.

  “I’ll be there,” I told her meekly. “Please, send in my servants so that I may be ready.”

  I didn’t know where Yukiko was, why she wasn’t there, what she’d say to me in my fully human state. Or had she abandoned me?

  “If I can find them,” Kayoku said. “They seem to be remarkably well trained at disappearing when there’s work to be done.”

  “Like all servants,” I said automatically.

  That finally brought a smile to Kayoku. “Like their mistress once was,” she said.

  Was she teasing me?

  With a final nod of her head, Kayoku gathered up the tea service and left me to my questions, my doubts, and my hard lessons in being human.

  Ξ

  I collapsed with a huge sigh back onto my sleeping mats. Never had I worked so hard before! It had been such tedious work as well. List of pans and cookers, of bowls and serving trays, of plates and dishes. Then recounting and double checking. My fingers ached from all the writing, my back hurt from being stooped over the desk, my eyes smarted from the cooking fires.

  Kayoku was an exacting mistress. But she’d earned my respect as well. Despite how she hated that she must turn everything over to her enemy, the victorious warlord Masato, she still was determined to do everything correctly, to hand him a well–ordered household.

  Most wives would have been tearing their hair out, gnashing their teeth, and unwilling to do a thorough job.

  Was this what it meant to be honorably human? To do your best, despite all your weaknesses and limitations?

  I fell into dreamless sleep pondering such philosophy, determined the next day to do better.

  Though I felt stronger the next day, I also hurt more, muscles I didn’t know I had aching. I didn’t lose my determination, however. I was going to do better than Kayoku expected of me, since she obviously expected the worst.

  And what could I say? I was just now realizing that my sister Etsu had been right all along. Humans deserved my respect, not my derision or pity.

  I shuddered to discover, though, what my sisters would think of me. Yukiko had been bad enough. Though she responded to all my requests (couched, now, as requests, and not as the orders I’d been so used to giving) she still was deeply uncomfortable with my changed status.

  I was going to have to find a new personal maid, something I was dreading.

  While I was finishing the long afternoon’s work in the kitchen, I heard a melodious yipping. It distracted me, making me look up from my work and miss whatever Kayoku had said next.

  Some part of me was reaching for that sound. I had understood what it meant, once. It wasn’t just noise.

  “Those damned foxes,” the head cook muttered. “Go and check the roosters and hens,” he directed one of the servants. “Make sure they’re all gathered in the yard. Or we’ll lose more tonight.”

  When I looked back at the room, Kayoku was watching me curiously. I tried to keep my face blank, and not show her my joy.

  While I might not recognize the words of the foxes, I knew their meaning: My sisters had returned. Hopefully, they’d bring me good news, as well as a spell to free Norihiko from his cruel, steel form.

  Ξ

  I didn’t know how to get out of the estate on my own. There were guards everywhere, in every hallway. I couldn’t turn their eyes from me. I also couldn’t disguise myself as a guard or a servant—the estate was too small. Everyone knew everyone else. A stranger would be regarded as a spy.

  Though they’d lost the war with Masato, the estate was still battle ready.

  I paced my rooms, feeling as closed in as I had at the Emperor’s court. Though I was now human, I still didn’t understand how these women lived their entire lives indoors.

  At least my rooms had an outer window that overlooked the garden. I’d gotten them with my powers, as generally women only had inner rooms. But I’d needed the ability to at least look outside, catch a glimpse of nature.

  I found that need hadn’t diminished with my powers gone.

  I’d directed Yukiko to lower all the lamp lights. I’d never learned how to do that myself. I’d always just dimmed lights with my powers. I also got Yukiko and the others to wait outside my sitting rooms. I didn’t want anyone to witness my meeting with my sisters.

  I didn’t want them to see my family shaming me.

  Yukiko seemed to understand. She gave me a very sorrowful look as she bade me goodnight.

  It did, but didn’t, surprise me that my sisters didn’t join me in my rooms. I was no longer like them. Why should they go to the bother of coming to see me?

  Still, it hurt my soul, cutting as deeply as Norihiko’s death had.

  Instead, the pair of them sat outside the window to my rooms. At first they sang in fox form, soft yips and howls.

  My heart ached, and I found my mouth opening and closing, as if I was about to join them in singing, though I no longer knew the words.

  I sank down below my window and leaned out as far as I dared, listening with all my heart, catching at the sounds of my home.

  Finally, the words changed to something human, that I could understand. They sang in such sweet harmony I found myself weeping at the beauty.

  Time slips away

  Like a petal

  Floating down a mountain spring

  Power dies

  To be reborn

  Fall leaves give way to spring seeds

  Families sundered

  Lives shaped

  To follow cruel paths

  Never returning

  Never turning back

  Never the same

  Why did they sing of such things? Was I that doomed? Was Norihiko doomed? I couldn’t help but cry out, “Tell me, sisters, what tidings are these?”

  Etsu replied. “You’ve lost your way. The strongest of us has become untrue.”

  That made me sit up straighter. I was never the strongest of my sisters, nor the best in anything. “There was a greater prize at hand,” I told them, though I now doubted the wisdom of my choice. But there hadn’t been anything else I could have done. Masato would have drowned Norihiko. He would have been lost forever.

  I would always make that choice. My powers for Norihiko.

  Wouldn’t I?

  “You’ve lost the prize, now,” Cho said.

  I couldn’t help but reach out to grasp Seiji sitting beside me. “I have the sword,” I told them.

  “You no longer have the power to change him back,” Etsu said, scolding me.

  “But you’re the one with the strongest magic!” I said. It had always been true. The man who had fathered Etsu had been a sorcerer.

  “You’re the one with the strongest love,” Cho said, gently correcting me. “Only Norihiko’s mate can bring him back.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked, startled. “Bring him back?”

  The long suffering sigh Etsu gave would have done our mother proud. “Crafting a spell to merely break the curse and free Norihiko’s soul was never my final goal. I knew we’d lose you, too, if I merely did that. Instead, I’ve discovered how to bring him back, to melt the steel back into soft flesh.”

  “You never told me,” I accused her. Would I have waited if I’d known that? Known that it wouldn’t just be me facing the rest of my lonely days?

  “I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know if I’d
succeed,” Etsu admitted. “But I have. I found the spell.”

  “Then you must do it!” I exclaimed. “Now! I have the sword here, ready.”

  “Sister, you don’t understand,” Cho said sorrowfully. “We cannot. Only Norihiko’s mate can bring him back. Only she has the power and will to make him to return.”

  “So you can’t break the curse?” I asked, slumping down. How could I have been so stupid? Now I’d ruined everything, Norihiko’s chance of freedom, my own life.

  “Why would I merely do that?” Etsu asked, rightly puzzled. “Craft just a partial spell, when I could bring him back to you?”

  “But I have no powers!” I said, the tears coming again. “I’ve thrown away everything!” My impulsive decision was proving to be as thoughtless as my mother had always accused me of being.

  “Tomorrow night, you must come to us,” Etsu whispered urgently. “You must find us. We will work to get your powers back.”

  “Really?” I asked, astounded. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “You can do that?”

  “Powers can always be transferred,” Cho said simply.

  “Masato will never give them up willingly,” I told them.

  “You’ll have to steal them, then, sister,” Etsu said.

  “But how?” I asked. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it from afar. I would have to get close to Masato again. I shuddered at the thought.

  “That will be up to you, sister,” Cho said. “But we’ll help, anyway we can.”

  “Tomorrow,” Etsu called again.

  “Tomorrow,” I promised them, though I had no idea how I was going to fulfill my word. How could I get out of the estate? Then sneak back in? And how was I going to get to Masato?

  My future was more uncertain than it ever had been. But I was determined to get Norihiko back. To bring him fully back to the flesh. To have a chance of spending our lives together again.

  I had come so far on my journey. I was determined to keep moving along, no matter how many tears lined the way.

  Six

  Hiding His Smile

  Junichi

  Hiding his smile, Junichi gave Masato a short bow. He wasn’t surprised that Masato hadn’t moved his camp yet, particularly not given the message he’d received, begging his help with Masato’s newly acquired fox fairy powers. All the cloth hanging down to separate the rooms of the large structure had been removed, so it was now one single, large room. The smell of incense filled the tent and made the air hazy.