by Bryce Allen
Ebusu met him with a subtle but questioning gaze. Kenji responded with a grim nod. They understood each other. Kenji received the message and wouldn’t interfere with any plan Ebusu tried to carry out.
Another guard presented them each with dark cloaks. They were ordered to put them on and conceal their faces. Once they did, they were marched out of the walled district.
The morning sun was high in the sky, and groups of people were collecting in the street, starting their business for the day. Staring between the guards, Kenji didn’t see a sign of happiness. In fact, the people looked depressed, angry even. They barely talked. Kenji even saw two men embracing through heavy sobs.
“The empire knows?” Kenji whispered.
“They know their emperor was murdered.”
Kenji didn’t need to wonder where they were going. The guards lead them straight to the arena. The crowds were thicker than ever, but no one spoke or cheered. People filled every open space surrounding the massive arena. Kenji didn’t know what they hoped to see, staring at the side of the building.
The guards cleared a path and brought them to the side entrance. Heads turned towards them as they weaved through the people. A murmur swelled around them.
Kenji heard the people wonder aloud. Some of their words were shouts, others were whispers. Kenji heard them all.
“Are those the ones that did it?”
“Is that the Gawan and his student?”
“I can’t believe Hiroshi let them live this long.”
“The emperor trusted him, how could he do that?”
Kenji lowered his face and let the hood cover him completely. He wanted to scream their innocence. He wanted to tell them of Hiroshi’s treachery and their noble last stand. He couldn’t.
Once they reached the entrance, Kenji felt worn and anxious. His mental thread was fraying. A thin layer of cold sweat gathered on his brow. A tremor consumed his sword hand. He shoved his hand into his cloak when he noticed it, afraid Ebusu might see it.
Kenji and Ebusu were allowed to enter the side entrance first. The narrow hall looked the same but felt different. The space used to be filled with anticipation and determination. Now it felt like the farther they went, the more desperate Kenji became.
They reached the staging area where a few more guards were waiting. Kenji’s eyes were drawn to a slim woman in the corner of the room.
“Kenji!”
Kami ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him. It was a quick hug, and Kenji didn’t react in time to hug her back. Even with his arms pinned at his side, he appreciated the gesture.
“Are you alright?” Kenji asked.
“I’m fine.”
Kami glanced at the guards around her. None of them seemed to be paying attention to their reunion.
Kami leaned in and whispered in Kenji’s ear, “I have a plan. A guard told me they will give us our weapons before bringing us out to the arena. I’m going to kill Hiroshi at my first chance.”
Kenji leaned back from her and shook his head, “You will be killed on the spot. No, Ebusu will take care of us.”
Kami’s eyes widened, and she waited for him to tell her more. Kenji didn’t know what to say. At this point, she knew as much as he did. The guards edged closer, suspicious of their embrace.
“You need to do exactly what Ebusu says. Go along with it.” Kenji whispered, “Trust him.”
Kami sighed, almost identical to the way Kenji had responded to Ebusu and Sagura. After a moment, she gave in and nodded. “I’ll give him time, but if he fails, I’m doing it.”
His respect for Kami grew. She was willing to take action and kill Hiroshi, regardless of what happened to herself. He appreciated her sense of absolute justice. It was a noble trait for any swordsman.
Kenji looked out at the crowd. The stadium was filled to capacity. After all the seats were taken, people filled the steps and every open space. Once they found their place, no one moved. Faces hung low, and children were held tightly to their mother’s sides.
At the center of the arena, wrapped in white linen, was Taishi. He was on the far side of the combat floor, elevated on a stone bed for all to see. Hundreds of red flowers surrounded the stones, but Kenji could clearly see the silhouette of his body.
Above Taishi’s body was the emperor’s balcony. Taijin, the last remaining member of his immediate family, stood at the edge. Dressed in black robes, he was easy to see. There was no color left in his face. He made no effort to hide his sobs from the masses.
A profound sadness gripped Kenji. He remembered being in Taijin’s position. He remembered the physical pain of loss and the mental agony of loneliness. Seeing it happen in Taijin forced him to relive it all again.
A second entrance opened on the far side of the arena floor. It was not answered with cheers. Followed by two rows of soldiers, Hiroshi entered the arena. He was also dressed in black, but instead of robes, he wore armor. The polished, stained metal caught the sun at every angle. Hiroshi played the part of vengeful brother well.
Kenji’s heart pounded away in his chest, furious at the sight. He silently prayed that Ebusu’s plan brought the justice Hiroshi deserved.
“Citizens of the empire, days ago we lost our beloved leader and my brother, Taishi.”
His voice rolled over the crowd like claps of thunder. There was no weakness in his voice.
“I promised you that the Gawans would be given justice, and today, I fulfill that promise.”
A lone voice yelled over the crowd, “Kill them all!”
It was barely an echo, but several voices rang out after with their support. Hiroshi held his hands up, silencing the outburst.
“I want nothing more than to avenge my brother, but that is not what he would have wanted. Only those responsible for his death should pay.”
Hiroshi turned towards the staging area and pointed towards them. “Ebusu!”
The crowd erupted. The hate of thousands of people was a powerful thing. It shook Kenji to his core and pained his ears. Ebusu placed a hand on Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed. Kenji raised his hand and wrapped it around his master’s.
Kenji looked up. He was worried he might cry, but his master’s gaze brought him some peace. It wasn’t fair, though. Ebusu was the most honorable man in the empire. None of it was right.
Ebusu smiled down at Kenji, oblivious to the anger surrounding them. He pulled his hand away and turned to Hiroshi. Ebusu stepped out of the shadow and into the arena.
The screams intensified, and the crowd nearly fell into a frenzy. Ebusu was immune to their taunts. He walked with simple steps, his hands folded in front of him like they always were. Once he reached the center of the arena, he stopped and turned towards Hiroshi.
“You stand accused of assassinating the emperor and conspiring with a Shadow. If found guilty, you will be branded a traitor and executed.”
Kenji moved to the edge of the staging area. He was as close as he could be without being seen, but he didn’t feel close enough. He wanted to be by his master’s side. He shouldn’t have to do this alone.
He felt a presence come to his side, and for a moment he thought a guard was going to pull him back. Instead, a slender arm wrapped around him, holding him in place.
Kami was at his side, and together they watched Ebusu’s condemning unfold. Having someone else there that knew the truth was enough to keep Kenji in place, but it did not ease the sting of injustice.
“Ebusu, you have left a son fatherless. You left an empire leaderless, and you have taken my brother from me.” Hiroshi’s face twisted with genuine grief, but he forced himself to finish.
“How do you plea?” Hiroshi finished.
Ebusu did not move. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a grimace. Kenji’s heart leaped. Whatever Ebusu was planning was happening. Ebusu turned towards Hiroshi, who was still several paces away.
“It is my right to demand trial by combat.”
A murmur spread through the crowd, and Hiroshi was
speechless. Ebusu took their confusion as an opportunity to solidify his request.
“I know Taishi would have granted me a swordsman’s death.”
Hiroshi cocked his head and stared at Ebusu. The fury burned is his eyes as he studied Ebusu. His jaw clenched and he tried to hide his anger from the eyes surrounding them.
“And who would you fight? If you plan to win the duel and escape you are mistaken. You will die today.”
Ebusu nodded, “Then I should fight you. Isn’t that the only way to guarantee my death?”
Hiroshi took a few steps away from the old man. The murmur of the crowd evolved into a hum of approval. Of course, they wanted to see their champion, Hiroshi, slay the traitor.
Hiroshi’s eyes darted over the crowd, and Kenji saw the confidence leave him. Kenji’s rage simmered just underneath the surface, barely concealed from the audience. He opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words. All the while, the crowd’s encouragement grew.
“Why would I give you the opportunity to kill me? This is just a plot to further weaken the empire!” Hiroshi shouted to the crowd.
A mixture of disappointment and confusion hushed up in the crowd. Ebusu’s display of theater had worked. If Hiroshi refused to fight Ebusu, he would be remembered as a coward. Ebusu would easily defeat Hiroshi with a sword if he dared challenge him.
The crowd suddenly went quiet, and it took Kenji a moment to figure out why. Taijin was holding his hand above his head, waiting for the chance to speak.
“Ebusu. My father loved you like a brother.”
Taijin’s words were quiet, but they echoed over the silence of the arena. His thin voice was wrought with grief, fighting back the sobs as he spoke.
“I will never understand why you did this to my family, but I will grant you your desire. Hiroshi, you will fight him, and you will kill him.”
Taijin took a few moments to wipe away his tears, “If you don’t kill him, uncle, I will come down and slay the traitor myself.”
The crowd roared their approval, and Hiroshi’s frustration became evident. He paced for a moment, searching the ground for an answer to his fate.
After a moment, Hiroshi stopped as if he had discovered something at his feet. His sudden calm sent a chill down Kenji’s back. The tension left his body. He addressed Taijin directly.
“I will do as you ask, and I will make the empire proud.”
Hiroshi bowed to Taijin and turned back to the crowd, “But this is not an ordinary duel. This man is suspected of killing the emperor. He should not die by an ordinary blade. As the last legitimate champion, I request permission to duel the traitor wielding my rightful blade, the Zettai.”
A rumble of excitement spread over the crowd, but the decision fell to Taijin. He considered it for a moment, then gave a solemn nod. The rumble turned to cheers, and one of Hiroshi’s men left the arena to retrieve the blade.
Kami and Kenji exchanged nervous looks. Was this part of Ebusu’s plan? The Zettai blade was a mystery to everyone except the winner of the Tenno Tournament. Only a handful of men knew what it did, and two of them were dead.
Legends had spread over the empire of the blade’s power. They were stories used to scare children into behaving, or drunken tales of Jin’s prowess on the battle field. At the end of the day, no one knew exactly what the sword did.
Kenji had dreams where the sword was his. He could feel the strength course through his limbs. His cuts were too fast for an average man to perceive. It had all been a game until now.
The empire was about to have the first public display of the Zettai’s power.
It took a few minutes for Hiroshi’s men to retrieve the blade, but when the winded soldier returned, he was greeted with rambunctious applause. The soldier handed Hiroshi the Zettai, wrapped in a thin, white cloth.
Hiroshi received it with two trembling hands like it was his first sword, anxious he might drop it or hurt himself. He looked it up and down before removing the cloth. He paid no mind to the audience as he revealed the sword.
Every eye in the arena was focused on the blade, even Kenji’s. Hiroshi cast the cloth to the ground and slid the sheathed sword into his belt. He adjusted his armor and gripped the sheath. His sword hand gripped the handle, and Hiroshi drew the sword.
The blade, like the sheath, was simple, but perfectly crafted. It flashed once in Kenji’s eyes, catching a beam of sunlight. Kenji watched as Hiroshi tested the blade with a slow swing. It was subtle, but Kenji thought that the blade might have been giving off a dim light of its own. It was impossible to tell. Kenji dismissed the idea as a trick of the mind.
All eyes were on Hiroshi, watching every move he made. Everyone wanted to know if the legends around the Zettai were true. The only thing that the sword did to Hiroshi was calm him and renew his confidence. His shoulders rolled back and he faced Ebusu with a steady gaze.
“I have trained against the Zettai before, Hiroshi. You think this frightens me?” Ebusu said, the words barely reaching Kenji before they were lost to the wind.
Hiroshi ignored Ebusu’s comment and nodded towards the staging area. A soldier grabbed Ebusu’s sword and ran it out to him. Ebusu bowed as the soldier handed him the sword, but the courtesy was not returned.
Ebusu slid the sheath into his belt. Every simple movement he made had purpose and power behind it. He held the top of the sheath with one hand and guided the bottom into his belt. He finished the process by fastening the belt in place with a quick knot. He had a ritualistic process, almost religious. Kenji had seen it hundreds of times before, and Ebusu was as composed as ever.
Once his blade was at his side, Ebusu straightened up and bowed to Hiroshi. A whisper spread through the crowd. Surprising Kenji, Hiroshi bowed back. They held their position for a moment, a genuine token of respect.
Ebusu stood, took a long breath, and dropped into his stance. His back leg carried most of his weight, coiled and ready to explode. His front leg had constant tension, pushing his weight back. It was a defensive stance, but a calculated one. Ebusu would be able to lash out the distance of four or five steps in the blink of an eye.
Hiroshi did the opposite, each leg bent slightly and carrying equal weight. He held the Zettai comfortably before him, leveled at Ebusu’s face.
Ebusu’s hand hovered above the handle of his sword, ready to draw in an instant. Hiroshi inched closer to Ebusu, but he seemed more interested in his own body than Ebusu’s sword. Several times Kenji noticed Hiroshi’s eyes flicker down, checking his stance and the position of the Zettai. Kenji wasn’t sure what was happening, but Hiroshi was feeling something.
With a bizarre, clumsy manner, Hiroshi raised his sword above his head. He held it there, and Kenji nearly screamed at Ebusu to take the opening. Ebusu could close the distance before Hiroshi could cut, Kenji had seen him do more.
However, Ebusu didn’t move. Hiroshi, blade still above his head, took a few more steps towards Ebusu. Kenji’s heart throbbed in his chest. Both men were within striking distance of each other, but no one attacked.
“What is going on?” Kami asked.
“I don’t know. Why didn’t Ebusu take the opening?”
Before they could wonder any more, Hiroshi’s entire body tensed and he cried out. In a fraction of a second, Hiroshi’s cut was complete. Kenji’s eyes weren’t able to keep up with the speed of the blade. All other sound was blocked out by the ringing in Kenji’s ears. The clash of steel was deafening.
Kenji and the rest of the crowd tried to process what had just happened. Somehow, Ebusu made the block. He held his sword above his head at a downward angle. Kenji remembered the lesson well. Hold the sword properly, and an attack would run off of the blade like rain off of a roof.
Hiroshi’s blade struck the ground beside Ebusu, leaving Hiroshi exposed to an attack. Ebusu twisted his wrist and shifted his weight, turning his block into a cut down onto Hiroshi’s shoulder.
By every law of swordsmanship, Hiroshi shouldn’t have been able to block th
e attack, but he did. Ebusu’s cut was about to meet Hiroshi’s skin, but Hiroshi brought his blade across his body and batted it away.
Somehow, Ebusu anticipated the block. He used the momentum from Hiroshi’s block and made another cut towards his abdomen. Again, Hiroshi dismissed the attack with a wave of the Zettai.
The cycle continued. With near-perfect technique and execution, Ebusu made cut after cut. He pivoted into different angles, attacking Hiroshi from a different direction every time. Kenji couldn’t remember a time when Ebusu attacked so viciously.
Hiroshi wasn’t concerned. He took a few effortless steps to match Ebusu’s angle of attack and deflected each cut. The last of Ebusu’s cuts was his strongest.
Hiroshi met the attack with a hard block, knocking Ebusu off balance. Hiroshi’s back leg kicked off the ground and spun around his body, landing a powerful roundhouse kick on Ebusu’s temple.
Ebusu’s head jerked to the side. Before the old man could crumple to the ground, Hiroshi let the momentum of the kick turn him around. Hiroshi let loose a powerful back kick, catching Ebusu in the chest.
Ebusu was lifted from the ground and was hurled backwards by the power of the blow. His body twisted in the air, but he kept his sword. He hit the ground ten paces away.
Kenji’s stomach turned, and he had to fight back the tears. In that moment, he knew. He knew the legends about the Zettai were true, and he knew his master’s plan had failed. With the Zettai, Hiroshi was too powerful for even his master to defeat. Ebusu was the best swordsman in the empire. He’d instructed emperors and orphans alike, but the Zettai was winning.
Kenji had to do something. He glanced at the guards. They were as wrapped up in the fight as the crowd. If he moved quickly enough, he could take one of their swords and charge Hiroshi. Perhaps if they both attacked him, they could defeat the Zettai.
Kenji exploded into an all-out sprint towards the nearest guard. He wasn’t concerned about stealth. He slammed into him and they fell into a pile on the floor. The other guards snapped to attention and moved in.
