by Bryce Allen
The words were a simmering whisper, the beginning of a shout bubbling beneath every word. Taijin’s eyes went wide and he melted into his seat. Two words that sounded like “yes” and “father” escaped his lips, but they were so strained Kenji couldn’t be sure.
“The third and final match is about to begin. From the Chida region, we have Shiro!”
The crowd acknowledged him with a polite applause, and Kenji breathed a sigh of relief for a distraction from the awkwardness. Shiro carried himself with a grim weight that he didn’t have at the banquet. Even surrounded by thousands, he kept his eyes on the path before him.
He didn’t play to the crowd like he had at the banquet. He looked exhausted. His eyes were surrounded with heavy circles, and his jaw was locked with determination.
Shiro took his side of the arena and the announcer cleared his throat.
“And from the Tenno region, Hiroshi!”
The ground shook with the crazed cheers of the audience. People leaped from their seats and shoved one another for the best view of the royal champion. Kenji knew it was more than just spectacle. The people of Tenno loved Hiroshi.
Hiroshi emerged from the staging area. He was dressed in simpler robes than before in different hues of gray and black. They were worn down, like Kenji’s. Perhaps Hiroshi had earned his place in the tournament after all.
The only sign of his royal linage was a thin, golden crown on his head. It wasn’t anything more than several gold wires woven together, but it caught the sun at every angle.
Hiroshi didn’t play to the crowd either. He entered the arena, and his gaze never left Shiro.
“Emperor, your brother is well loved by the people. You must be proud,” Kami said, encouraging conversation.
The emperor snorted, “Many think he’s a war hero.”
His words were simple enough, but they cut like knife. The annoyance in his tone silenced Kami, and there were a few moments of awkward silence.
It was Taijin that broke the quiet. He spoke in a plain, stately way, as if to counter his father’s emotion on the topic.
“Hiroshi led the defense of Tenno during the final battle of the rebellion. The citizens of Tenno have held him in high esteem since then.”
Taishi leaned forward and cast a sour glance at his son, but before he could speak, Manzo shouted across the arena for the fight to begin.
The warriors dashed towards each other without a second of hesitation. They didn’t test one another like the others had. Their blades flashed in the sun, steel clashing against steel.
Hiroshi made powerful, sweeping cuts. Kenji admired them, as they were nearly perfect. Shiro held his ground. Every one of Hiroshi’s cuts was met with a well-placed block.
Shiro finally ended Hiroshi’s attack with a powerful kick to his chest. Hiroshi was flung backwards by the attack, barely staying on his feet.
Kenji felt the emperor tense. His hands tightened on the arms of his chair, and his breath caught in his throat.
Once Hiroshi recovered, the emperor slowly relaxed in his chair. Both champions composed themselves and engaged. The kick slowed Hiroshi down, and both men were exchanging cuts.
Shiro redirected a cut at the last instant, and Hiroshi nearly missed the block. Their blades slid against each other as the crowd held its breath. Hiroshi’s block wasn’t strong enough to stop the entire attack, and the tip of Shiro’s blade opened a small gash in Hiroshi’s arm.
Hiroshi didn’t miss a step. The wound wasn’t deep enough to faze him, and the battle resumed. The men were equals in skill, but Shiro’s spirit was waning. Shiro needed that cut to slow Hiroshi down, but it only seemed to strengthen him.
Hiroshi’s whole body relaxed, and every move he made was confident. Shiro made a low cut, but Hiroshi leaped over the blade. The crowd erupted with a quick burst of laughter and cheers.
Shiro didn’t seem frustrated, though. He simply persisted. It was an unusual fight with both warriors so well matched, and it went longer than both of the earlier ones. Both champions glistened with sweat, the fatigue clear in their faces.
The engaged each other again, but Hiroshi changed his timing. It shook Kenji from his state of rapt attention and drew his focus to Hiroshi. Hiroshi’s entire demeanor changed. Suddenly, he was moving twice as fast as Shiro. Shiro was wide eyed at the change, almost shocked into inaction.
Hiroshi’s blade slashed at Shiro from the side. Shiro scrambled back clumsily, his guard on the wrong side of his body. Kenji didn’t know why, but Shiro had expected an attack from the other side.
Shiro moved out of the range of the first cut, but Hiroshi was close enough to take advantage of the opening. All of Tenno saw Shiro’s desperation, and the crowd fell silent. Shiro’s face contorted with fear and he attempted move back again, but he stumbled.
Before he could regain his balance, Hiroshi stomped down on Shiro’s exposed knee. The champion of Chida stumbled and fell to a single knee. He executed a wild, off-balance cut. Before the cut could land, Hiroshi lunged forward, driving his blade into Shiro’s neck.
At the same time, Shiro’s cut landed on Hiroshi’s sheath, digging into the polished wood, but lacking the power to reach flesh. Blood wept from Shiro’s neck, running down both ends of Hiroshi’s blade. Shiro opened his mouth as if to speak, but thick, bubbling blood fell from his lips.
The violence was sudden and gory. Kenji blinked a few times, opening his mouth to speak, then closed it without a word. Only an instant before they had been exchanging cuts like exhausted sparring partners.
The champions were still frozen there in the arena, Shiro desperately clinging to his blade and the last of his life.
Finally, Shiro’s hands fell from his sword, which remained embedded in Hiroshi’s sheath. As the last of Shiro’s life poured from his neck, his shoulders rolled forward and his head fell.
For one sickening instant, the only thing holding Shiro up was the blade through his throat. Hiroshi pulled his blade back, and Shiro fell forward in a pool of blood. He didn’t move after that.
The crowd cheered and chanted Hiroshi’s name, but Kenji couldn’t hear them. He watched the crimson puddle around Shiro grow. How much blood could a man have?
The suddenness of Shiro’s death made Kenji’s head spin. Both warriors had been so confident. Neither one of them could be taken off guard by the other. Then, as if by magic, Hiroshi took Shiro’s knee and his life. The unexpected death made Kenji uneasy. It was as if a song had been abruptly ended, unable to hit the final chord.
They were not dismissed like they were after the other fights. Shiro’s corpse was removed from the arena, and workers brought bucket after bucket of water to clear the blood. It was a hopeless endeavor. The stain would not be easily removed.
Kami and Kenji were led back down to the staging area. The officials wanted to announce the final match with all three victorious champions. Only one person greeted them—Hiroshi.
He carefully cleaned his blade with long, smooth motions. He carried himself with a cool composure. Kenji wouldn’t have guessed that he’d just killed a man. Up close, Kenji could see that the small wound which Shiro inflicted was barely a scratch. Was it luck?
No words were exchanged by the champions. None were needed. They waited to be called in front of the crowd and displayed as victors.
It didn’t take long for them to be called out to the arena. The cheers of the crowd were loud, but they didn’t bother Kenji as much anymore.
The dark stain of blood was obvious on the arena floor. Kenji was careful to step around it as they were paraded to the center, but Hiroshi stepped through it like it had no meaning.
“Citizens of the empire, I present to you the final champions. They have fought hard to earn the powerful Zettai blade, but only one fight remains.”
Manzo continued, “Two days from now, all three champions will face one another in a test of strength and skill. The last one standing will wield the Zettai for years to come.”
Kenji look
ed to the balcony. The emperor was emotionless, looking on with practiced indifference, but Ebusu was gone. Kenji searched for him, but he found nothing. A pang of sadness struck Kenji when he realized his master wasn’t there to watch him, but then a thought occurred to Kenji.
Were they all still in danger, or had the culprit been Shiro? The consideration brought Kenji no ease. Hiroshi’s ruthless slaying of Shiro seemed like too much.
The hysterical crowd cheered around them, but his thoughts were too loud for the sound to break through. The spectators reminded him of caged animals, screaming and pumping their fists, but never moving from their spot.
Kenji watched Hiroshi. His chest heaved with pride and he looked around at the crowd, pleased with their mania. He looked over Kami and Kenji like they were stage hands in his play.
Then Hiroshi’s gaze landed on the emperor, and the tension was immediate. The twinkle of victory faded from Hiroshi’s eyes. The emperor’s face was twisted with solemn grief. He gazed down on his brother like he’d been the one who died.
The champions were paraded around the arena and brought back to their staging area. Kenji expected Hiroshi to say something, but he left without a backwards glance.
“What do we do now?” Kami asked.
“I don’t know. We wait?”
“We wait to be assassinated? No. We need to tell the people what is going on.”
Kenji searched the ground, thinking. He agreed with Kami. They should have alerted the entire city that a Shadow was in Tenno. However, he could not deny his master’s wisdom. Ebusu did not make decisions lightly.
“We should counsel with my master. He knows the capital.”
Kami rolled her eyes, “Men and their masters. I’m going to my ambassador and telling him everything. Best of luck, Kenji of Gawa.”
Kami shot him an annoyed glance and shook her head. She slipped through the door and disappeared. Kenji was left alone with his thoughts and his wounds.
He searched the staging area to be sure he was alone. The crowd was filtering out of the arena, and most of the officials were cleaning up.
The staging area was sheltered from the sun, and it provided a much-needed barrier from the audience. Once Kenji was sure there were no eyes on him, he slumped down in a corner of the staging area.
The gouges scattered over his body had taken their toll. Hiding them for so long wasn’t an easy feat. His body throbbed with hot pain, rolling like waves from his cuts. His limbs were sluggish and clumsy, but Ebusu’s medicine had done its job. Kenji kept his strength, at least for now.
Kenji’s eyes wandered the arena floor. Manzo, the head official, was directing others in the center. From the privacy of the staging area, Kenji allowed himself to watch the man while he rested.
Manzo ordered the others around with stern, simple gestures. A lesser official would approach him, he would give guidance, and the official would bow before hurrying away.
Kenji watched Manzo relax a little as the last official left him. He folded his arms before him and watched them all work throughout the arena for a few moments.
As he watched his officials clean and prepare, Manzo’s hand absently reached to his opposite arm. He rubbed his forearm just below the elbow in long, smooth motions.
His hand caught a piece of his robe, and for an instant, his sleeve was pulled up from his wrist. Kenji saw the sure, winding pattern of a bandage coving his skin.
As quickly as Kenji saw it, it was gone. Manzo turned to address a different official, and Kenji could only see his back. Kenji blinked a few times, clearing any haze from his eyes. It was possible there was no bandage at all, and Kenji was mistaken.
He moved from his corner to get a better view. He came to the iron gate between the staging area and the arena floor and leaned against the bars.
He watched Manzo speak with the official. Again, he noticed the gestures, but he watched more closely now. The arm that Kenji saw the bandages on never moved. It stayed by Manzo’s side in a faux-natural state.
A wound on his forearm wouldn’t prevent him from lifting his arm. The wound must start at his shoulder and run down.
Another official approached him. This time, Manzo used his good arm to point across his body. It was an awkward gesture, one that should have been done with his other arm.
Kenji felt the sun on his face. Suddenly, he realized he’d taken a few steps into the arena. His focus was on Manzo. He never thought about where he was standing.
The moment before Kenji turned to leave the arena, Manzo turned towards him. It wasn’t a casual movement, but the sudden move of someone who felt they were being watched.
Their eyes met.
Once Manzo’s eyes fell on Kenji, they never left him. Kenji didn’t move, as if his stillness would deter Manzo from approaching.
It didn’t.
Manzo waved the officials away and crossed the arena floor to Kenji.
“Champion?” Manzo asked.
“Your arm appears injured,” Kenji said in a flat voice. “Are you alright?”
“Just an annoyance. I’ll be fine,” Manzo said, forcing a polite smile.
“What happened?” Kenji asked.
“A burn.”
The pretense of respect left Manzo’s expression. His eyes went dark and the corner of his lip curled in a grimace. He raised himself to his full height, broadening his shoulders. He looked into Kenji’s eyes.
Kenji made a slow, subtle move to his sword. His posture never changed, and no one but Manzo would know he was ready to lash out. Manzo’s eyes told Kenji everything he needed to know. They betrayed the darkness within the man. There was no doubt in Kenji’s mind.
This man was the Shadow.
“Why did you attack us?” Kenji said in a demanding whisper.
“Enjoy your time in Tenno, champion.”
The darkness on the man’s face faded into annoyance. He folded his arms and called over a few other officials. Kenji took his hand off his blade, but he didn’t let his guard down.
Manzo asked the other tournament workers to make sure they cleaned the staging area, and they walked away together. It was as if the exchange never happened.
Kenji wasn’t an expert at cleaning and bandaging wounds, but he knew the difference between a cut and a burn. Manzo’s injury could only be caused by one thing, a blade.
Kenji’s hand hovered inches from his sword, and his eyes stayed focused on the Shadow as he walked away. He could attack him now and expose him. Kenji wasn’t strong enough to beat him, not even in the daylight, but perhaps the others would assist him.
It was just as likely that the others would assist Manzo. Kenji didn’t know how deep the corruption ran. His master’s words floated through his mind, and he forced his hand down to his side.
Kenji kept his head down and concealed his limp. He shuffled through the crowd to reach the Gawan quarter. He could feel people watching him. Every set of eyes felt like a threat now. Did they all know?
He reached the cherry blossom street and went to Ebusu’s quarters. He stepped into the hallway that led to his master’s quarters when he heard a hushed conversation.
He recognized the voices immediately: Sagura and Ebusu.
“Master, governor.” Kenji bowed low, even though it caused pain. “I know who the shadow is.”
Ebusu snatched up a stool and placed it behind Kenji, just in time for him collapse down on it.
“Who is it?” Sagura asked.
“The announcer from the tournament.”
“Manzo?” Sagura asked, incredulous.
Ebusu stroked his beard in thought, “Hiroshi would need an official to guarantee his victory.”
“How do you know Hiroshi is behind this?” Kenji asked.
Ebusu took a deep breath. The governor shot the swordmaster a warning glance, but Ebusu spoke regardless.
“Shiro threw the fight. I could see it with every cut they made.”
Kenji went through the fight in his mind. Every cut was so cl
ean, and every block was perfect. The more Kenji analyzed the fight, the more unrealistic it became. True combat was ugly, ferocious chaos, not the clean, dynamic spectacle that Shiro and Hiroshi put on.
“Why would Hiroshi kill him, then?”
Kenji already knew the answer. It was the only way to ensure Shiro never spoke. The two older men saw the realization on Kenji’s face and didn’t bother giving voice to the morbid obvious.
“We must leave Tenno, now.” Ebusu said.
Sagura gave a grim nod and Ebusu looked to Kenji for a response. Kenji didn’t know what to think, but it didn’t seem right. It seemed like the coward’s choice.
“What will happen if we leave?”
“Hiroshi will most likely win the Zettai from Kami, and will become the second-most-powerful man in the empire,” Sagura admitted.
“Why?” Kenji asked, “Why would he go through all this?”
“Hiroshi has no real authority. He lives an easy life, with wealth and all, but he does not command soldiers or make decisions. With the Zettai, he would,” Sagura said, shrugging as he finished. There had to be more to it.
Kenji didn’t know what Hiroshi had planned, or why he wanted the Zettai. The emperor’s words echoed in Kenji’s ears. Whoever wielded the Zettai needed to value life, not sacrifice it for greed and power.
“No.”
“No?” Ebusu echoed.
“Hiroshi can’t wield the Zettai. If he is going to such lengths to win this tournament, how can he be trusted with the Zettai?”
“Kenji, I don’t think you understand the politics at play here.”
Kenji knew when he was being talked down to, and Sagura made no effort to conceal it.
“But now we have proof. We go to the emperor and show him that there is a Shadow in Tenno. I will explain everything to him,” Kenji argued.
Sagura’s face turned red and his jaw tightened, “Taishi may not agree with his brother, but he loves him. Anyone can see that. If you go to him with accusations of treason and sabotage, you risk all of our lives.”
Sagura shook his head, not in disagreement, but disbelief. A grim silence fell over the room. Kenji’s eyes went between Sagura and Ebusu.