by Bryce Allen
She wept. It wasn’t the manic, meaningless wails that Kenji grew up with, but clear, genuine sadness. The reaction surprised Kenji, but as he held his mother close, he realized something. She had been close to Ebusu in her own way. On some level, she had known he was raising her child.
Eventually the sobs ended, and his mother looked up.
“Are you alright, Kenji?”
There was a power and sincerity to her voice that Kenji hadn’t heard in years. The question took Kenji by surprise. Her lucid eyes pierced him. Kenji didn’t know how to respond.
“No,” Kenji admitted. “I don’t know what to do.”
Kenji’s mother wrapped her frail arm around him and pulled him close. Her hand moved back and forth on his back. Instead of comforting him, it only brought him closer to tears.
“When someone we love dies, it is our duty to live for them. Bring them with you in everything you do, and you will never truly be without them.”
Her words left Kenji dumbstruck. Tears streamed down his face, but he maintained his posture. There was a truth to her words, but as Kenji thought them over, his frustration mounted. When his father died, she’d become a ghost. What would she know of living for someone’s memory? It was the hypocrisy that took away his childhood.
His mother must have sensed the subtle change in his demeanor. She pulled him closer and leaned in. Kenji didn’t move for a moment, but his anger faded. As it did, he wrapped his arm around her and they held each other in silence for a few long moments. It was comforting to feel his mother’s warmth beside him. He wished it would never end.
His mother released her hold on him and patted him on the shoulder. Her eyes were hazy, unfocused. She looked up at Kenji with a half-smile.
“Go now, you don’t want to be late for your training with Master Ebusu.”
Kenji forced a smile and pulled his mother to his chest. They embraced for a moment and Kenji left her side.
“I love you,” he said.
Kenji gave her a moment to respond, but she said nothing. He slipped out of the hut, careful not to make too much noise.
The fresh air washed over him and he felt like he could finally breathe. He covered his face with his hands, trying to clear his mind. His mother’s words repeated in his head. He fought to regain his composure. It took a few minutes of pacing by his front door, but he gained control of his emotions.
He knew his eyes still showed the signs of tears, but he wanted to leave the village as quickly as possible. Luckily, he didn’t need to look far for Sagura. He was drawing attention at the town center.
Elevated at the center of a small crowd, Sagura was answering questions of concern and confusion. It wasn’t surprising. The people were scared, some were angry.
“Why would Ebusu plot against the emperor? Weren’t they friends?” one man shouted.
“I’ve already told you, I don’t know any more than you do on the subject. I’ll tell you more when I know more.”
“What happened to Kenji?” another voice asked.
Kenji pulled his robes tight around his neck, partially concealing his face. He was on the edge of the town square, peering around a building. There was a good chance, even with his changed appearance, that he would be recognized if seen. These people had watched him grow up.
Part of him wanted to run away, but he had to speak with Sagura. The village continued to ask questions of Sagura, all of which he deflected. A vague sense of pride and gratitude stirred inside Kenji. His village found it hard to believe Ebusu would kill the emperor. That meant something.
Eventually, the crowd dispersed. They were displeased with the lack of information, but not angry. They feared war. They wanted to know if they would be punished for the allegations against Ebusu, and rightfully so.
Sagura saw Kenji observing from the back. Once he dealt with the last few villagers, he wandered in Kenji’s direction. Kenji led him to a small alley near his home where he knew they could speak in private.
“Was your mother happy to see you?” Sagura asked, a hint of mirth in his eye.
Kenji didn’t have time for Sagura’s conversations.
“Why wasn’t she being taken care of?” Kenji said, his words cutting like the blade he had discarded.
Sagura shrugged. “You saw for yourself. The villagers are scared. They are worried that Hiroshi will come for them.”
“Will he?”
Sagura gave a heavy sigh and his eyes wandered. “I don’t know.”
His answer didn’t change Kenji’s mind.
“Move her if you have to. Change her name. Sagura, she needs to be taken care of. She gave up more than all of us for this empire.”
“I will do my best.”
“Your best?” Kenji growled, an unruly fire building inside him, “I swear Sagura, if she isn’t-”
“What will you do?” Sagura laughed as if he was immune to Kenji’s rage. “Hollow threats coming from a dead man.”
Kenji recoiled from Sagura’s cruelty. Dumbfounded, Kenji stared at the governor. What had Kenji done to deserve such brazen disrespect? Kenji wanted to scream at him. He wanted to lash out and hurt the politician. More than once, he felt the absence of his sword.
The rebellious amusement left Sagura’s face. He stepped towards Kenji until they were within arm’s reach of each other.
“There is only one way to guarantee her safety. There is only one way to save all these people. You need to face Hiroshi.”
Even though Kenji knew what Sagura was going to say before he opened his mouth, the name still struck him. Like a kick to the chest, the mention of Hiroshi almost knocked him to his knees.
Conflict burned inside Kenji. He wanted to attack Hiroshi with all his might. He wanted to watch him suffer in ways unimaginable. But Hiroshi had the Zettai and the might of the empire. Kenji was a skilled swordsman, but he wasn’t better than Ebusu.
“I have thought of a hundred scenarios, Sagura,” Kenji spat. “I lose in all of them. Let me keep my dignity. Why don’t you find a way to deal with him?”
“Dignity? Twisted and bloated on the riverside as the flies gather? That is dignity?”
Kenji gave a loud groan. It was nearly a scream. He gritted his teeth to restrain himself and hissed, “Damn it, Sagura.”
Sagura nodded and a half smile appeared on his face. He reached into his robes and pulled a small piece of parchment out. It was rolled into a small tube. The edges were rough and it had little decoration.
“He’d told me you’d be stubborn,” Sagura said. He held the parchment before Kenji, waiting for him to take it.
Kenji looked at the paper, then back to Sagura. He hesitated to take it.
“What is this?”
“A message”—Sagura’s face was deathly serious—“from Ebusu.”
Kenji narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Sagura’s intent. Ebusu wasn’t the sentimental type. Ebusu was known for his poetry, but he rarely wrote letters.
“How?”
“He wrote it while he was in the Gawan quarters. He told me to give it to you if he failed.”
After Sagura spoke, Ebusu’s failure flashed in Kenji’s mind. The embrace they shared before he walked to his execution was all Kenji had. He could still feel Ebusu’s calloused hand gripping his shoulder.
Kenji carefully pulled the parchment out of Sagura’s hand. Sagura nodded, as he always did.
“I’ll be at your home.”
Chapter 13
The smooth, cold slab of stone seemed like the right place to read the message. Kenji could still feel the ghosts of his father and Ebusu there. A part of him knew it was a trick of the mind, but it was the only comfort he had.
The constant hum of the water crashing below him was like a sedative. It calmed him. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension caused by worrying about his ailing mother subsided. Even the pain of losing Ebusu lessened, if only a bit.
Kenji held the paper in his hand for some time. Whenever he tried to peel the paper open, his
hands started to shake. He wanted to open it, but something stopped him.
He’d been given a finite opportunity to connect with his master. Once he read it, it would be done. His master would not reach out to him again. There was a finality to it that shook Kenji.
Kenji held a deep breath in for a few moments, gathering his willpower. He exhaled, and with clumsy hands, unrolled the parchment.
It was exactly how he expected it to be. Every word was carefully drawn. Each symbol had a simple elegance to it. It was Ebusu’s handwriting. He could hear the old man’s voice in his head as he read the note.
Kenji
Everything must seem hopeless and dark. For that I am sorry. You are an excellent swordsman and an honorable man.
You can defeat Hiroshi, even if he wields the Zettai. There is another blade imbued with the same power, the Teki-Zettai. Only the emperor himself wields it or knows it exists. Taijin has it now. Use it, Kenji, and end this.
If I leave this world, I leave it happily. The privilege of watching you grow has brought me peace.
Ebusu
Kenji was numb. The sting of loss was still there, but it didn’t bite at him like it once did. He read the paper a few times over, careful not to miss a single word.
Every time he read it, the pain faded. He pictured Ebusu in his mind, speaking to him. It was as clear as the falls before him. His hard face broke into a soft smile as he said goodbye.
Kenji knew that the loss would never truly leave him, but something new was stirring inside him now. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but an immense relief.
It was gratitude. Gratitude for the time he’d had Ebusu in his life.
The happiness mingled with sorrow and settled inside him. It was something that never happened when he lost his father. He never knew his father, but he had known Ebusu. Weight lifted from his shoulders. For the first time since Ebusu passed, Kenji could breathe.
Once the raw emotion faded, Kenji read the practical portion of the note again. Adrenaline swirled inside him. His eyes widened and the warrior within him screamed for action.
There was a second Zettai, the Teki-Zettai.
There were legends telling of a second Zettai, but all of them said it had been lost forever.
Blacksmiths of the empire followed a simple tradition: Always make swords in pairs. If a blade was used to commit evil, another, matching blade existed to counteract that evil.
It was a simple tradition, but it made sense that the Zettai had a twin. Whoever crafted the legendary blade must have followed the tradition of the land and made the Teki-Zettai.
With the playing field level, Kenji would destroy Hiroshi. His anger alone would give him the advantage. But how would he get the Teki-Zettai? If Taijin believed the lies, he would consider Kenji an enemy.
The broken strands that had once made Kenji who he was started to weave themselves back together. Parts of his mind that had become dormant came alive while considering a fight with Hiroshi. His hand held the parchment, steady as stone.
Kenji looked down at the parchment. There were still obstacles facing him. Simply because the means to defeat Hiroshi existed didn’t mean it would be easy. Even with the Teki-Zettai, Hiroshi had soldiers at his disposal.
He pulled himself away from Ebusu’s letter and allowed his eyes to follow the water of the falls. His eyes lost their focus. His mind emptied, filled only with the sound of crashing water.
There was peace at the falls. There was certainty there, and a lack of pain. It was an escape.
Confronting Hiroshi was tempting. Kenji’s anger and desire for vengeance tore at his mind, begging for action.
However, the thought of leaving the falls to return to Tenno and the chaos it was engulfed in made his stomach turn over. The pressure, the politics, the lies—Kenji hated it all. He had seen the dark side of the world that he had refused to acknowledge before.
Then, he thought beyond Tenno, the falls giving him clarity. The empire didn’t have to be built on lies. It didn’t need to be threatened by war. The empire could be the place Kenji thought it to be.
For the empire.
Kenji pulled himself to his feet and moved to the edge of the stone. He leaned forward and looked down at the collision of stone and water.
Running his fingers over the rough parchment a final time, Kenji savored the sensation. He straightened his posture and his hands snapped to his sides. In a smooth motion, he offered a final bow to Ebusu. He held himself there until he was satisfied that Ebusu was honored.
Kenji tore the parchment into pieces and released it into the air. Some of them fell into the water. Other pieces were caught by the wind. He watched them disappear.
Kenji went to gather his things and realized he had nothing worth gathering. Once the decision was made, he darted into the thick woods. Sprinting through the forest was an exhausting task, but he would not allow himself to slow down.
He passed the training platform of his childhood without a second look. He never broke his pace. He followed the well-worn trail, his feet pounding the compacted earth.
A few villagers stared at Kenji when he barreled out of the forest. He ignored them and made his way to Sagura. As he promised, Sagura was sitting in front of Kenji’s old house. His hands were folded neatly on his lap.
Kenji collapsed to his hands and knees before the governor. He panted for breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. Sagura cocked an eyebrow but didn’t stand.
“Hiroshi,” Kenji said between breaths. “I can beat him.”
Sagura narrowed his eyes. He moved to Kenji’s side.
“How?”
“A second Zettai, the Teki-Zettai, the emperor has carried it all this time. I can use it against Hiroshi.”
Sagura leaned back, annoyed disbelief painted on his face.
“How is that possible? All the old stories say that the blade had a twin, but it was destroyed hundreds of years ago.”
“When the emperor died, he moved with unnatural strength.” Kenji explained, his breath returning to him. “It was like the blade—”
“Don’t be foolish,” Sagura cut him off.
“Please, I need that sword, Sagura. Ebusu wouldn’t have written it down if he wasn’t sure. Where is Taijin?”
Sagura hesitated for a moment. He was still processing the information. After a few moments, the disbelief in his eyes faded, and grim determination took its place.
“Locked away in his room the last I heard.” Sagura gave Kenji a grave look. “But he plans to abdicate the throne to Hiroshi.”
Kenji was shocked. If that happened, Hiroshi’s authority would be permanent. He would be the new emperor. “When?”
“At the last match of the tournament, a week from now. They delayed the Tenno to mourn for Taishi.”
Kenji sat up. It was his turn to be confused.
“The tournament is over. Hiroshi already has the Zettai and the support of the people.”
“Kami demanded that the final match still be held. She made enough noise that Hiroshi would have looked weak if he declined.”
Kenji shook his head. He wasn’t surprised. Kami would fight with her dying breath, no matter the circumstances. She was stronger than he would ever be.
“He is going to kill her,” Kenji thought aloud.
Sagura pursed his lips and nodded. A silence settled over them. Kenji silently played through several scenarios. All of them hinged on one thing: the second Zettai.
“Can you get me to him, to Taijin?”
Sagura thought for a moment. Kenji forced himself not to rush the governor.
“Yes.”
“Then we must leave now.”
Sagura fought against a smile that slowly consumed his face. He was clearly pleased with Kenji’s decision. He stepped with the spring of a younger man as he set off to ready horses and some supplies. They wouldn’t have time to linger. They would have to ride hard. Even at their fastest pace, they might not make it in time.
Kenji took the op
portunity to clean the dirt off his hands and face. He considered shaving, but he’d grown accustomed to the rough stubble.
Before Kenji left, he had to do one thing. He slipped inside his old home again. His mother was there, where he left her. She stared so intently at the wall Kenji thought she saw something in it.
Kenji sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her.
“I love you, mother. I will make you proud and honor father’s memory. I promise.”
“I know you will, Kenji.”
His mother looked up at him and gripped the back of Kenji’s neck. Kenji didn’t know if she understood what was happening, but the gesture was appreciated. He let himself believe that the woman who gave birth to him, the tenacious, loving woman his father had fallen in love with, was beside him.
“Goodbye, mother.”
Kenji held her tight, then slipped away. He retrieved new training robes from his meager pile of possessions and left his home behind.
Sagura was waiting for him with four horses in tow. Kenji mounted one and cast a final look at his home.
“She will be cared for?”
“I had to empty my purse to make it so, but you have my word.”
“Oh, and Sagura?” Kenji said, reaching for the reins.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Kenji kicked the horse into a gallop and they left the village behind.
Night came faster than Kenji expected. It was difficult work to ride one horse with another tied behind him. On several occasions he felt the horse try to veer off course. He was able to hold steady, but he couldn’t relax for a second.
Sagura pulled off the main road once the sun settled below the horizon. The dusk was filled with beautiful stripes of purple clouds and blood-red beams of light. It was a sunset so ideal it almost made Kenji forget their intent.
Regardless, he was relieved when Sagura stopped to rest. He slid off his saddle, already achy from the hard ride. Kenji busied himself with his bedroll, eager for sleep.
“What are you doing?” Sagura asked, childish amusement soaking every word.
