by Nikita Thorn
“Yes.” Seiki felt lightheaded as he watched his quest log update. The blade was paired. There was another dagger of the same quality somewhere waiting for him to discover.
Seiki lifted the sword to test it. Asateru felt perfectly natural in his grip, impeccably balanced, in a way that made him feel as if he had reclaimed a lost item he had once owned but had forgotten about.
Breathlessly, Seiki stood up, took a step back to make room and swung his sword out in a decisive Sweeping Blade—the very first ability Master Tsujihara had taught him.
“Perfectly formed. You’d approve.”
In his hand, the sword now had an added bit of description.
Claimed by Seiki.
He looked at the inconspicuous words. For the very first time, he felt as if he already had everything: ground under his feet, friends by his side, means in his hands, and a path ahead. A wave of emotion rushed through him, joy, sorrow, excitement, before settling on a gentle, solid form of hope.
Seiki looked up at the old man’s name plaque on the altar once more and drew a deep breath. He had caught a glimpse of the unknown, and had taken the first step into the rest of the unwritten journey to come.
“Master Tsujihara,” he said. “I’m ready.”
Outside, birdsong was picking up, the familiar light conversations and the usual thudding of faint passing hooves gradually returning to Trade Street as Shinshioka slowly woke to a new day.