Chosen by the Blade

by Bryce Allen

Chapter 6

  The walk home was a haze. Kami offered him a consoling look as he left the arena, but Kenji ignored it. He didn’t wait for Ebusu or the others to find him, he just wandered through the crowd until he reached their temporary home.

  The people he passed congratulated him on the victory, but Kenji ignored them. Yutaka’s blood was still fresh on his body, how could they congratulate him?

  Once in his room, Kenji slumped to the floor of his bedroom. He remained there, motionless, until long after the sun had fallen.

  He relived the fight with Yutaka again and again. He felt himself make the final cut, as real as when it happened. He was given clean clothes, but they felt stiff and uncomfortable. The servant in their quarters promised his old ones would be returned to him once the blood was out.

  Kenji held his trembling hand before his face. He tried to make the tremor end, but it continued no matter how many times he shook his fist.

  His stomach churned with guilt, and he started to wonder why he had ever wanted to participate in the Tenno Tournament. Kenji had seen sword wounds before, but never dismemberment.

  Never by his sword.

  Ebusu had trained him well, but nothing prepared him for the amount of blood he saw on the ground that day. Nothing prepared him for the look on Yutaka’s face.

  Before, when he dreamed of the tournament, it was simply an obstacle. The tournament was nothing more than a task to overcome on his journey to wielding the Zettai. Now, the obstacles weren’t so simple. They were living, feeling people with dreams of their own. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

  He wasn’t tired, nor was he hungry. His limbs felt light and clumsy and his head hadn’t stopped pounding since Yutaka’s now-detached elbow had struck him.

  A gentle knock at the door brought him back to the present. Kenji’s heart felt some relief. Surely, Ebusu was there to give him some advice or comfort.

  Kenji rose to his feet and slid the door open. He started to greet his master but realized that Ebusu wasn’t alone. Beside him was a man of similar age, dressed in fine, shimmering robes. The man looked tired, taking careful steps so as not to trip. Kenji recognized him immediately, and a portion of his haze gave way to formality.

  “Emperor,” Kenji said as he bowed.

  “Kenji, may I come in? I was visiting your master and he suggested I speak with you.”

  “Of course.”

  Ebusu bowed to Taishi and gestured for him to enter the room.

  The emperor stepped into the dark room and folded his arms. His posture was broken, the heavy bags under his eyes clear in the candlelight. He looked as sleep deprived as Kenji did, bloodshot eyes and all.

  Ebusu slid the door shut, letting the emperor speak with Kenji alone. Kenji locked eyes with him before the rice paper separated them. Ebusu’s eyes were not sympathetic, but wide with cold understanding.

  Then Kenji and the emperor were alone.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” Kenji lied, “My head is throbbing, that’s all.”

  The emperor pursed his lips and leaned towards Kenji, “Lying to the emperor?”

  “I mean . . . I don’t . . .”

  “I saw something today, Kenji. Something that I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again. I had to speak with your master just be sure I wasn’t imagining things.”

  Kenji’s heart raced, wondering what the emperor was referring to.

  “As you cut through Yutaka and claimed victory, I saw a sadness come over you. A profound sadness.”

  Kenji didn’t know what to say. It was true, but he didn’t want to display that weakness. He needed to act strong.

  The emperor continued, “I saw that same sadness in Jin. Every time he took a life, he carried the burden. Even if he saved thousands in the process, he would never forget the enemies he struck down. It is the quality I most miss from Jin. He was the finest man I think I have ever known.

  “The Zettai is nothing more than a tool. It can be used to create or to destroy. I need you to wield it, Kenji. You will help my son restore Tenno.”

  The emperor’s eyes drifted, distracted for a moment. Kenji took the time to absorb what Taishi was saying. It had never occurred to Kenji that, if he won, he would be serving most of his time with Taijin, not Taishi.

  The emperor must have noticed his hesitation. “Yutaka knew the risks he faced by competing.”

  “But all I see when I close my eyes is his face. How do I forget that?”

  “My dear boy, you must never forget it.”

  Kenji tried to understand the emperor. His mind reached towards comprehension, but it was too distant. How could Kenji live with that burden? Could he carry it with him and be the same man he was before?

  Then he realized the full import of the emperor’s words.

  “You’d have me defeat Hiroshi?” Kenji asked.

  Taishi let out a labored sigh. Kenji thought he may have offended the emperor, but after a few moments of silence, Taishi spoke.

  “The war touched us all, but Hiroshi, he couldn’t handle the suffering. I love my brother, but he cannot win. He couldn’t move past . . .”

  The emperor’s words stopped and his eyes lost their focus. For a moment, he was far away.

  He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, “Good evening, champion.”

  The emperor offered a drained smile to Kenji and slipped out of the room. It was the kind of smile meant for only one thing: masking pain.

  The sun rose without Kenji closing his eyes. Ebusu greeted him in the morning with clean robes and his tray of tea.

  Kenji prepared the tea for his master, as per etiquette. Normally, he enjoyed the process. Now, most of his attention was on his hands. He willed them not to shake, but a hint of a tremor made the fine, clay cups chatter.

  The sweet, earthy aroma of the tea filled the room, and Kenji poured some into Ebusu’s cup. Then, only after Ebusu took his cup, Kenji filled his own.

  The nervous feelings that had dominated Kenji before the fight were gone. Now there was just a vague sense of discomfort masked by exhaustion. He pondered the emperor’s words, trying to unravel their implications.

  They both took several drinks before Ebusu spoke.

  “How was the emperor?” Ebusu raised an eyebrow and looked up from his tea.

  Kenji nodded, prepared for the question, “He told me I remind him of Jin. He told me I had to win the Zettai.”

  Ebusu grunted and took a sip of his tea, “Taishi loved Jin. You should consider that a compliment. He is right, though; he needs you to win.”

  “I can’t be the only one that would wield the Zettai with honor,” Kenji thought aloud, too tired to filter his words.

  Ebusu sipped his tea with slow intention. He held his eyes shut for a moment, letting himself taste the liquid.

  “The emperor is old, and he is tired. He was once a great man, but I fear,” Ebusu’s voice faded for a second and he looked down at his drink. “Tenno isn’t what it used to be. You saw it for yourself when we arrived.”

  Ebusu continued, “Taishi knows it. He realizes his failure to the empire. He is tired, Kenji. So, he has put his trust in Taijin. The winner of this tournament will watch Taijin grow up. They will become leaders together. With the right winner, the empire will prosper for generations. If the wrong person holds the Zettai, the empire will fall.”

  Kenji took a drink. He let the warmth fill him, trying to find comfort in it. His eyes wandered the room. If Ebusu’s words were meant to encourage him, they had failed.

  The weight of an empire pressed down around him, muting his movements and churning his stomach.

  “I don’t understand. Why tell me all this? Why not just let me fight?”

  “It is important to know what you are fighting for. You know what is right and what is wrong. I know you will not fall prey to the greed and corruption that grips Tenno. I’ve seen the best and the worst of this empire, Kenji, and . . .”

  He was holding something bac
k. Kenji narrowed his eyes and waited for the rest to come. Ebusu ran a hand over his head and sighed.

  “I’m worried that there is more happening that we do not understand.”

  “This is the Tenno Tournament, nothing more, nothing less,” Kenji said with an angry edge in his tone. He knew his exhaustion let him anger easily. He didn’t have the energy to restrain it. Ebusu was being too vague, and Kenji couldn’t muster the patience.

  “I saw the way you looked at Yutaka.” Ebusu’s tone was soft, delicate even. Kenji suddenly felt ashamed for snapping at his master.

  His anger was extinguished by Yutaka’s name. The dismembered limb flashed in Kenji’s mind. Kenji’s eyes dropped and he searched the floor for a moment. He had no defense.

  “The path you’ve chosen will only get darker. You spared a man’s life yesterday. You won’t always be given that opportunity,” Ebusu said, his words sharp and unyielding.

  Kenji was numb. The deepest part of him knew Ebusu was speaking the truth. He’d always known the truth.

  The sword, when wielded to its purpose, ended lives.

  Kenji had never understood, not really, until now. It had all seemed so easy before this, so simple.

  Kenji spoke slowly, never meeting his master’s gaze, “So what would you have me do?”

  “We could leave this place and live in peace.”

  Kenji opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words. He searched his master’s face, hoping that he somehow had the answer. Ebusu’s face was a grimace of stone, waiting for Kenji to find the answer himself.

  Kenji considered it for a few long moments. All of the pressure and all the guilt would be gone. Things could be simple again. With Ebusu at his side they could train their days away. Kenji could find a wife and take care of his mother.

  Then Kenji remembered the pain on the emperor’s face. If there was any truth to Taishi’s words, it was Kenji’s duty to win the Zettai at any cost. He would bear the guilt just like Jin did before him.

  For the empire.

  “No, master. I have to stay.”

  “Very well.” Ebusu’s posture straightened, and the pressure of his gaze subsided. He took another drink of his tea.

  Kenji searched Ebusu’s face. He looked for any sign of acknowledgment or understanding. Ebusu gave no sign of either. It was as if the conversation never happened. Ebusu was relaxed and comfortable. His eyes sparkled, once again, with a youthfulness people half his age didn’t have.

  Ebusu set down his cup and folded his hands across his lap. It meant his cup was empty, and Kenji was free to pour him another. Kenji, still studying his master for a response, set down his cup.

  Before Kenji could reach the pot, Ebusu took it with two hands. He handled it with the same smooth precision he handled his blade. He carefully poured the tea into Kenji’s cup, and wisps of steam danced before Kenji’s surprised expression.

  Ebusu set the pot on the table and turned to face Kenji.

  “You’re an honorable man.” Ebusu was quiet, but the words were clear.

  Ebusu bowed. It wasn’t a simple gesture of greeting. He touched his forehead to the ground between them and paused.

  Kenji was stunned. He cast a quick glance to his full cup and back to Ebusu. All he could think to do was bow back; no words seemed appropriate.

  Both men straightened themselves, and Ebusu continued to pour his own drink.

  There was a long silence, but Kenji was wrapped in a calm resolve. He was filled with a confidence that he’d been missing. The tea was sweeter now.

  After a few sips, Ebusu broke the silence by commenting on Kenji’s form during the match.

  Together, they the discussed strategy and improvements Kenji could make. It brought Kenji back to Gawa, if only in spirit. The stress and fear felt a little farther away as they talked away the morning.

  Kenji and Ebusu were interrupted by Sagura telling them it was time to go to the arena. Kenji was given a large, bland cloak to conceal his face. He was thankful not to have to deal with the shouting spectators.

  Unlike the day before, clouds covered all trace of the sky. They hovered overhead, threatening rain. The humidity was thick in the air, carrying all sorts of sour scents from the city surrounding them.

  They made it to the arena, and Kenji worked his way towards the corner entrance. Sagura caught his arm and smiled.

  “The victors sit with the emperor.”

  They approached the main entrance with the rest of the spectators. The crowd around him murmured their excitement but kept their distance. After a few quick words with Sagura, the guards escorted the Gawan party through the tunnels.

  The collective cheers of the crowd shook the walls. Their group was brought to a pair of doors, and the guards gestured for them to enter. The doors slid open and revealed the emperor’s balcony. The emperor and his son were already seated in the center, looking down at the arena floor.

  Kenji and Ebusu were led to their seats. Ebusu sat next to the emperor, and Kenji was seated next to Taijin. Fruit, vegetables, and perfectly dried meats lined the back wall, displayed on porcelain. Kenji wondered how they could justify eating something so beautifully laid out.

  “Welcome, Gawa,” the emperor said as they took their seats.

  His voice carried no trace of the burden he’d carried only a few hours ago in Kenji’s room. He sounded pleased to see them.

  “I trust you both slept well?”

  “I slept comfortably, emperor, thank you,” Kenji responded with a polite nod.

  Taijin looked up at Kenji, the excitement obvious in his eyes, “Your victory, Kenji . . . how amazing! When you were down on the ground I thought for sure you were done for, but then you knocked him to the ground! The whole arena heard his ribs break!”

  “Calm yourself, Taijin,” Taishi said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

  “Yes, father,” Taijin said.

  “Today’s fight should prove interesting. Master Ebusu?” The emperor spoke with a casual tone. Kenji wondered if they had spoken of his match in such a light-hearted way.

  Ebusu took a deep breath, considering the match.

  “I think the girl will prove a worthier opponent than we think,” Ebusu said, his eyes searching the sullen sky.

  Taijin chuckled. “Against a titan like Matsu? I think not.”

  A knowing smile spread over Ebusu’s face, but he didn’t respond. It felt strange on his face, but Kenji flashed a genuine smile, waiting. Taijin’s tone had a casual hint of dismissal in it, like two old friends sharing a drink. Kenji had been reprimanded for less.

  The emperor sighed, “Taijin, respect.”

  Taijin seemed to sink into his seat and didn’t speak again. Kenji wanted to pat him on the back, but it wasn’t his place. He’d been in the boy’s situation more than once. Ebusu was always quick to put him in his place when he spoke out of turn.

  Kenji was curious to see Kami fight. How could a girl with no master make it to the Tenno Tournament? The girl had shown him kindness, which made it hard for him to admit, but he agreed with Taijin: Kami had a difficult fight ahead of her.

  After a few moments, the announcer took to the center of the stage. The vantage point from the emperor’s balcony was perfect. They were high enough above the arena that they could see the entire floor, but not so far back that they couldn’t make out the details.

  “For the second official fight, we have Kami of South Toku!”

  Kami emerged from the staging area with her head held high. Kenji found it odd that she carried her sword in her hand, not in her belt. He noticed for the first time that she didn’t carry a full-sized sword. It was barely half the length of a traditional blade.

  Instead of cheering, the crowd mumbled its grievance.

  In times of peace, women warriors were unheard of. Families wanted their daughters to focus on having children or learning a craft, not combat. The way of the sword was a man’s path, not to be walked by a woman.

  During the rebellion,
women soldiers had fought against the empire alongside the men. This furthered the stigma against women learning the ways of war. Of course, Kami was too young to have fought in the war, but it was no surprise that the crowd was against her.

  Kami didn’t seem to care. Kenji thought he even saw a grin come across her face. Every step she took seemed like a defiance to the onlookers around her. Kenji admired her confidence.

  “Matsu of the Iwase Region!”

  Matsu was a crowd favorite, but not by much. Some of the grievances faded, but the crowd was hesitant to fully support him. A few slow claps ignited a modest applause.

  The heavily muscled man ducked under the archway and stepped into the arena. He made Kami look like a child. What was left of the applause faded when the size difference was made obvious. A hushed, nervous quiet fell over the arena.

  Matsu carried a larger version of the traditional blade. It was usually reserved for slaying horses on the battlefield, but the hefty blade looked perfectly sized at Matsu’s hip. Kenji could barely lift such a blade, let alone wield it efficiently.

  The sleeves were missing from Matsu’s robe, revealing well-muscled and scarred arms. Pale lines crossed over his tan skin like stripes over a tiger. His hair added to his wild appearance, tossing in the wind. He did not encourage the crowd. His face was turned into a constant snarl directed at Kami.

  “This match begins now! Fight!”

  To Kenji’s surprise, Matsu offered Kami a low, gracious bow. Kami matched his bow, and Matsu drew his sword. He took a traditional stance and moved into striking distance.

  Kami drew her sword also, but she only wielded it with one hand. She kept the sheath in her other hand and dropped into a low stance. Her sword stayed pointed directly at Matsu’s throat, but she held her sheath close to her face.

  Kenji had never seen a fighting style so unorthodox. He’d been taught to respect his sheath and keep it at his side. It was the only thing that could contain the power of a blade.

  Kenji moved towards the edge of his seat. His hands gripped the arms of his chair and he watched Kami closely. She’d shown him a kindness, and without it, Yutaka could be sitting in his seat right now. He didn’t want any harm to come to her, but it wasn’t up to him.