A Sword's Poem

by Leah Cutter

  Outside the tent, sounds of the men celebrating carried on the wind. Masato felt no urge to join them. He did want to go out, though, into the night, to dance with the night breezes, to feel the starlight on his skin, to maybe even release himself against the side of a tree…

  Masato came back to himself with a start. That hadn’t been the most base impulse he’d experienced since he’d absorbed the fox fairy powers. But the vision of himself, naked in the night, was so strong. He pinched himself through the cloth of his robe to remind himself that he was still, in fact, wearing clothes.

  The impulse grew stronger, his manhood rising.

  Masato called on the name of the Amida Buddha again. Just saying the name would bring him to the Pure Land. Though he had a raft of priests he maintained, constantly calling on the Amida Buddha in his name, so that he might not go to Hell, he also did the meditation himself, when he could be bothered.

  Now, it seemed like a lifeline to a saner place.

  Masato had said the words in the chant so often they came without thought, rolling off his tongue, Namu Amida Butsu.

  Yet the impulse still remained. The desire to go release himself. To go expose himself.

  To do something other than sit in his tent and meditate.

  Masato shook himself. Though his teachers had all considered him lazy and undisciplined, he would show them wrong.

  He would stay in the tent, do his meditation, and be one with the Buddha, fox fairy powers be damned.

  Ξ

  By the time dawn crept in around the edges of the tent, Masato was ready to admit defeat. Sweat stained his brown robes as if he’d been practicing with his sword all night. The scent of semen mingled with the sweeter incense, from when Masato hadn’t been able to control himself any longer. He hadn’t destroyed his furniture or slashed at the strips of cloth hanging down, though the fox fairy blood had urged him destroy everything.

  Masato had never known such strong urges to be free. Not even when he’d been a young man, under the oppressive thumb of his father.

  Perhaps this had been what Junichi had warned about—this wildness that Masato would find challenging to tame.

  Masato took another deep, shuddering breath. Nothing could save him from this overwhelming sensuality. No wonder the fox fairies never did much. They were probably too busy fornicating. Masato clenched his hands into fists so he wouldn’t take hold of himself again.

  He had to tame these powers, somehow. Contain them.

  But how? There were no books on the subject, no esoteric knowledge that any of the priests held. How to steal power from other creatures, yes. But not on what to do if the powers from a foreign creature had been transferred to a man.

  With a sigh, Masato made himself stand. His knees protested after kneeling for so long, but after only two steps, they felt like themselves again.

  Of course, the fox fairy powers wanted Masato to leave the tent. He struggled to keep his destination in mind—his writing desk, there, in the corner.

  He swayed like a drunken man, fighting to control his own limbs. But he didn’t give up, as he had so many times the night before.

  With a decidedly ungraceful thump, Masato collapsed back down to the floor behind his writing desk. After only three tries he managed to shave off some ink from his ink stick, wetting it just enough for his brush.

  It didn’t take long for him to write his request. Junichi, his former master, would extract a high price for his help. Masato hoped he would be able to mitigate at least some of the cost by pointing out that the only reason he’d done it was because the sword Junichi had made hadn’t been right.

  However, Masato also knew that he’d pay. Because he couldn’t keep the full fox fairy powers. They were too strong.

  Four

  Not The Fires Again

  Kayoku

  Not the fires again. Kayoku rushed to the sickroom where Hikaru had yet to gain consciousness when she heard the shrieks. The second wife’s fever ran high and she lived between the worlds, muttering when she was more calm, screeching in tones that would bend metal when she wasn’t.

  Now, Hikaru tossed from side to side, as if trying to get away from the fires in her dreams, screaming about burning again and again. Bright lamps burned in every corner, chasing away the shadows and any bad luck. The room itself was plain, with no poetry or paintings, nothing that would have to be burned if the patient died.

  The smell of Hikaru’s sickness wafted over Kayoku as she entered. She ordered more shokoh to be burned to help chase away the smell, as well as to purify the bad air so no one else would get sick. Then Kayoku knelt beside the poor girl, catching at her hand and holding it firmly between her own.

  “You must come back here,” Kayoku strictly ordered the younger woman. “You must return.” How else would Kayoku get the answers she needed? Hikaru couldn’t die and keep all her secrets locked away. The hand she held burned with its own fire, though the skin was still unnaturally smooth.

  Hikaru clung to the older woman’s hand as if it were a lifeline. Her eyes opened, but they were blank—her spirit still traveled far away.

  Words spilled from Hikaru’s mouth, words that Kayoku didn’t recognize. The words had power. They stirred the hair on Kayoku’s arms and walked icy–ghost fingers down her spine.

  However, they didn’t seem to do much beyond that. Hikaru fell back, more exhausted.

  Did she have powers? Kayoku would believe it. The second wife had appeared so glamorous when she’d first arrived at the estate. Even in her illness, she was still beautiful.

  She was also ordinary, though, and had the needs of any woman.

  Hikaru began to cry, heartbreaking sobs.

  “You’re here at the estate,” Kayoku told her. “You’re safe.”

  “My mate is still cursed,” Hikaru said, eerily clear. “Norihiko! Norihiko! How could you be taken away from me? How did he change you into a sword? Through the flames. The flames!”

  Hikaru dragged the sword Seiji closer to her as she wept. It seemed to be the only thing that gave her solace, though Kayoku could tell its weight was unnaturally huge, and it dragged itself toward the ground every time Hikaru touched it.

  Did Hikaru believe that her mate had been turned into the sword?

  The girl was clearly insane.

  However, she also refused to let go of the sword’s scabbard, even in the worst of her imaginings.

  It was just one more piece of the puzzle that Kayoku must learn about, once Hikaru recovered.

  Ξ

  Masato’s casual declaration that he’d stop by the estate in a few days to collect his property didn’t surprise Kayoku. Nor was she surprised to find herself listed among the rest of the goods, such as horses and servants. She was a prize of war.

  What surprised Kayoku was her anger at being treated as such. Good luck or no, she certainly had more value than Iwao’s old robes or the pots and kettles in the kitchen.

  Kayoku carefully kept her anger off her face as well as out of her tone when she met with the generals that morning in the Hall of Ceremony. Her servants were too well trained to start rumors and gossip about their mistress that way. Still, she didn’t want to start any speculation.

  Though half a dozen generals were already gathered in the hall, it seemed empty. Most of the poems about the estate had been taken down and carefully hidden away. The brazier at the front of the hallway that generally scented the air with pine and cloves was also missing. Kayoku was surprised that the bronze flower vases remained: then again, they had a few days yet.

  She didn’t know if hiding their treasures would do any good, or if they’d all see the flame.

  Two of the generals still wore the plain muslin mourning robes over their regular robes. She’d thought they would already be finished mourning Iwao.

  Or perhaps they were still mourning the estate, the mountain, and the Mori temple.

  Servants herded the generals to gather on the far side of the hall. Then they came forward,
carrying the screen of state. It was a large wooden frame with a piece of painted silk stretched across it. A beautiful sketch of Mount Shirayama covered the front of it.

  If the lights were just right, Kayoku could see through the screen, but those on the other side couldn’t see her. She walked in after the servants had placed the screen and took her place behind it.

  Though none of the other wives would have faulted Kayoku for foregoing the screen of state—her husband was dead, and the estate was in shambles—she still liked the formality it gave her. The mask she could hide behind, that false hope that things could get better.

  As one, the generals turned and bowed to Kayoku. It put a lump in her throat. They weren’t necessarily paying her that respect, she knew better than that. But that they would still honor her husband so meant a lot to her.

  “Thank you,” Kayoku told the assembled group. “What news do you bring?”

  General Asheihi looked up and around, seeking the silent permission of the others before he spoke. As one of the oldest generals, it was within his right to demand to be heard. But the old general ruled by agreement, not force.

  Though Kayoku’s view of General Asheihi was fuzzy through the screen of state, she still thought too many hard lines marred his face, too much grief plainly visible in his eyes. He wore dark gray–blue robes, the color of an angry sea. His voice rang out firm and true across the room.

  “We have released the men, telling the farmers to go back to their families. There were no rewards, of course, other than granting the men their lives. We hope, for most of them, life will go on as always,” the general said.

  Kayoku nodded. Though it hurt, it was the truth. The farmer didn’t care who the lord in the manor was. His gods would always be the wind and the rain.

  “We have also started a complete inventory to hand over to Masato when he arrives,” the general continued. “It merely lists servants and other property. There will be a second list for the people who belong to the estate.”

  Kayoku bit her lip to prevent herself from asking which list she was on.

  She was already well aware of her status.

  “I will make certain that the lists are accurate,” Kayoku stated. Though she hadn’t run the estate for long, she still knew more about the inner workings of it than any of these men.

  “Thank you,” General Asheihi said. “The second list. It won’t be completed until Masato is on his way here.”

  “What do you mean?” Kayoku asked, puzzled. Certainly people weren’t thinking they could run away, did they? There really was nowhere to go. The estate was her home.

  “I’ll be blunt,” General Asheihi said.

  Some of the other generals hissed at that.

  Whatever could he be willing to say that they’d disapprove of? Kayoku was intrigued.

  “Do not be surprised, lady, if some of the people assembled here, and elsewhere in the estate, decide that it is better to go to the lands of the eternal cherry blossoms rather than to be employed by Masato.”

  Kayoku felt her own breath catch. Suicide?

  Yet, it made sense. Better an honorable death than a dishonorable life.

  “I understand,” Kayoku said. “And I respect and grant each of you your own wishes and choice.”

  General Asheihi had little else to report after that. Some of the men had needed disciplining after winning, still trying to loot a local village. The priests of the Mori temple were holding services day and night, without pause or break. And the Emperor had been informed, of course, though no one was expecting any help from him.

  Walking through the shaded corridors back to her own rooms, Kayoku considered what General Asheihi had said.

  It didn’t matter if she was considered property or not. She didn’t have to behave as if she was.

  Rather than live a life like cattle, she, too, had a choice.

  And before Masato came to the estate, she was going to walk in the lands of the eternal cherry blossoms as well.

  Ξ

  Kayoku hurried through the corridors to Hikaru’s room. Priestess Ayumi had fetched Kayoku, despite the late hour, insisting that she come. The priestess had looked as perfect as ever, in sturdy brown robes and solid bun, her skin as fresh as if she’d just woken.

  Was the girl dying? Kayoku felt strangely at peace with that. Kayoku felt as though she already walked with one foot in the other lands. Perhaps her mother waited there for her. Everything seemed wrapped in soft cotton, all the edges tucked away.

  The smell of sickness had finally been chased away from the room. Lamps burned steadily in all the corners, brighter than Kayoku would have thought polite, but she assumed that either the priestess or Hikaru had asked for the light.

  The girl still looked sick, paler than was fashionable. Her black hair hung in greasy strings, Red lingered under her eyes and around her nose, probably from all her weeping.

  Despite all that, she was still beautiful.

  Hikaru’s eyes were still glazed, though, wet as an animal’s. Yet she still sat up and turned her head unerringly toward Kayoku when she came in.

  “I’m sorry,” Hikaru said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so very, very sorry.” The words sounded rote, as if they’d been rehearsed, with no emotion or true regret behind them.

  “What are you sorry about?” Kayoku said, kneeling down beside the sleeping mats.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hikaru continued to repeat, still addressing the door where Kayoku had been. “I didn’t mean to do it. I know Iwao was a good man. Innocent of the crimes I’d thought he’d committed. I’m so sorry.”

  “What do you mean?” Kayoku asked, her back stiffening. “What crimes?” What did Iwao’s second wife think he had done?

  Hikaru reached out and touched the sword Seiji. “I thought Iwao had killed my mate. Stolen his soul to form this sword.”

  Kayoku couldn’t help her bitter laugh. “Iwao wasn’t imaginative enough to do something such as that.”

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, please, give me my powers back,” Hikaru said, her voice trailing into a whisper. “Let me be beautiful again. Healthy. Strong. Please, I need my powers back. My magic….”

  “Powers? Magic?” Kayoku said. “What powers?”

  Kayoku didn’t believe in magic. There was only good and bad luck. That’s what her mother had told her, what she’d believed all her life.

  But Masato’s men, the howling on the wind, how the oil for the temple had spoiled, those awful characters under Lord Taiga’s sleeping tatamis, meant to capture a soul…

  Was there magic? Had Kayoku been wrong?

  It wasn’t difficult for her to believe that Hikaru was a magical being. She’d been unnaturally beautiful. And all the times Kayoku had asked Hikaru to help around the estate, pick up some of the duties a second wife should, and how she’d always left without saying a word.

  “What magic?” Kayoku asked again.

  But Hikaru just slipped back into repeating over and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Kayoku stroked Hikaru’s too–hot hand until the younger wife fell asleep. It seemed as though her confession had exhausted her more than her continual shrieking.

  However, when Kayoku bathed Hikaru’s face one last time in lavender water, the younger wife’s forehead finally felt cool, as if the fever had finally left her.

  “What are you going to do about her?” Priestess Ayumi asked as Kayoku left the sleeping rooms and withdrew into the general room.

  “Do?” Kayoku asked. The girl was finally getting better, but that didn’t mean Kayoku could set her to work already.

  “She admitted to killing Iwao,” Priestess Ayumi said. “She should be punished.”

  Kayoku opened her mouth then shut it again. The priestess was right. Hikaru should be punished, flogged and beaten, then possibly beheaded.

  However, Kayoku had always prided herself on being practical. Hikaru wasn’t the only one to b
lame. Iwao had let himself fall under Hikaru’s spell. He’d been blinded by her beauty, by the sword Seiji, by his own invulnerability. No matter what powers Hikaru may have had, or had used on her poor departed husband, Kayoku knew he’d been complicit as well.

  “Masato will be here soon enough,” Kayoku said after another moment. “She’ll be on his list, part of his property. I’m not sure there’s anything for me to do before that. What do you think?”

  The priestess gave a grim smile. “I think you are correct, my lady. There isn’t anything else you need to do besides make sure that she’s on the list.”

  They both knew what list she meant, the one listing all the property that was now Masato’s.

  Maybe Kayoku would make sure that Hikaru’s name was listed beneath the kitchen pots and pans, just above the servants.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of her,” Kayoku said sincerely. She knew the girl wouldn’t have recovered without the careful oversight of the priestess, as well as her prayers.

  “She said many strange things in her fever,” the priestess confided in Kayoku. “That her powers were taken by Masato. That the sword contains the soul of her husband. That Iwao was innocent.”

  “Just the ramblings of a sick mind,” Kayoku assured the priestess.

  Was Hikaru telling the truth? Was her mind too clouded for lies?

  Kayoku would have to meditate and pray, because part of her already believed Hikaru. She’d been so impossibly beautiful, able to work her will on everyone, including Kayoku.

  The priestess said goodnight, and Kayoku went back to her own quarters.

  How had Masato taken Hikaru’s powers? Kayoku shuddered thinking about what evil spell the man had cast.

  Did the sword Seiji contain a soul? Why would Lord Taiga bring back such an artifact, then give it to his son? Had only Iwao been able to wield the sword, as some of his men had sworn? That none of the other generals could even lift it? Was it magical as well?

  Hikaru couldn’t lift Seiji. Kayoku had blamed the second wife’s weakened state, but maybe the sword had rejected her as well.