by Bryce Allen
Kenji wrestled with the man beneath him for a breath too long. The moment he pulled the sword away from its owner, two men barreled into him. They knocked him across the room, and the sword was scooped up by one of Hiroshi’s men.
Before Kami could help, three men seized her. She struggled against them, but she knew it was futile. Kenji scrambled on the floor, gasping for air. The guards let him struggle for a moment. It was a mistake.
Kenji’s chest relaxed, and he was able to breathe. With his first breath he scrambled to his feet. Frantic for an opening, he looked from guard to guard. They were slowly closing in on him, but none of them had their weapons drawn.
Whenever he tried to escape through an opening, the guards closed the circle around him. He was a caged animal, pacing. The anger and the fear mingled. Beyond the guards, Kenji saw Ebusu push himself to his feet. He was tired, not defeated.
Kenji saw Hiroshi moving towards Ebusu again. His master wouldn’t survive another pass against the Zettai.
Kenji faked to the left and took off to the right. It didn’t fool all the guards, but it was enough to break the line. A few hands caught him, but he shoved them away. His momentum was too strong.
At last, there was no one between him and the arena. He sprinted through the gateway and into the light.
Sword be damned. He didn’t need a weapon to help Ebusu.
The crowd reacted to him with gasps of confusion and taunts. Hiroshi paused when he saw Kenji, annoyed but not angry.
Kenji raced towards Ebusu. If he could only get to his master’s side they would find a way; a way to escape, a way to win, anything.
Stunned from the kick, Ebusu didn’t notice Kenji right away. All his attention and focus were on Hiroshi. Kenji was halfway to him when he finally looked up.
Ebusu’s eyes widened when he saw his pupil cutting across the arena. Kenji wasn’t sure what he saw in the old man’s eyes, but it wasn’t relief. Ebusu held his hand up at Kenji, ordering him to stop.
“Kenji, no,” Ebusu shouted.
The words hit Kenji and stopped him in his tracks. Kenji felt a pain and confusion in his heart that he would never forget. This would mean his master’s death. Why wouldn’t he let them fight this together?
“Master?”
“You have to live, Kenji.”
An instant after Ebusu spoke, two guards crashed into Kenji from behind. His head snapped back and he was brought to the ground. The weight of both men pinned him to the ground. He squirmed beneath them until he could see his master. Helpless to act, he watched.
“Can we continue?” Hiroshi asked.
Ebusu’s eyes were still on Kenji. A flicker of a smile came over his face. He gave Kenji a slow nod of approval. His eyes lingered a bit longer and the old man took a long, calming breath.
The smile faded and Ebusu turned back to Hiroshi.
“I’m ready.”
Hiroshi was still at least ten paces from Ebusu, but he moved to attack anyway. He took two strong steps and leaped. He ascended into the air, well above the heads of those on the arena floor. He raised his sword above his head and descended towards Ebusu. No human could jump that high.
With the force of his leap and the power of his cut, he came down on Ebusu. The moment Hiroshi hit the ground, dust and dirt flew up around them. It clouded them from sight. It was impossible to see what was happening.
The arena waited for the dust to clear. Kenji wanted to look away. He didn’t want to see his master cleaved in half, but he was still pinned tight to the ground.
Before the cloud settled, the clash of steel called out from behind the dust. Ebusu was still fighting. Blade struck blade, sliding off of one another and cracking against each other. Kenji listened for the sound of a blade cutting flesh, but it never came.
The dust started to settle, and both men slowly came into view. Ebusu was defending now. Hiroshi wielded the Zettai with a single hand. He attacked at will and Ebusu struggled to respond. Every cut forced Ebusu to give up more ground. The sparks of their blades scattered in all directions with each strike.
Hiroshi didn’t seem concerned with what Ebusu was doing. He was only testing his strength. His cuts were calm and consistent. He never made an effort to return to a defensive position, and he didn’t have to. Each attack he made nearly knocked Ebusu’s sword from his hand.
Hiroshi paused eventually, but only to wield the Zettai with both hands. He made a powerful horizontal cut towards Ebusu, and a clap of thunder called out from their blades as they met. Ebusu scrambled backwards, clutching his shoulder.
A bright red ribbon of flesh opened on Ebusu’s shoulder. His sword arm clung to his shoulder by a few strands of flesh, and blood poured from the opening.
Ebusu made the block, but the Zettai pushed his blade out of the way as if it was being wielded by a child. It was ripped from Ebusu’s hand and tumbled through the air before landing several paces away.
Ebusu’s stance didn’t falter. He brought his good arm up in front of him and clenched his fist. His face, although pale, was focused and determined. He was a fighter until the end.
“I’m sorry, master,” Hiroshi said softly.
“I know.”
Hiroshi lunged towards Ebusu and shoved the Zettai into his gut. The blade cut easily through the old man’s flesh, traveling up into his ribs. The bloodied tip of the Zettai emerged between Ebusu’s shoulder blades.
Hiroshi ripped the blade out of Ebusu’s chest and made a single smooth cut at his neck. Ebusu’s flesh gave no resistance to the blade. The cut was bloody, but clean. Ebusu’s head hit the arena floor and his eyes closed. His body followed, collapsing into an unrecognizable pile of flesh and blood.
Kenji tried to scream. The guards were holding him so tightly to the ground there was no room for air in his lungs. Tears streamed down his face and he reached out to his lifeless master. A part of him died in that moment, unable to help the person closest to him.
Chapter 11
The roar of the crowd never left Kenji. His chest trembled with their screams. The guards ushered him back to the staging area, but Kenji didn’t struggle. The color left his face and his body was numb. His eyes wandered the ground, aimless and empty.
No words could reach him. In his mind’s eye he saw only Ebusu’s corpse. The guards gave him orders, but he couldn’t understand them, not really. All he felt, all he knew, was the pain of loss.
It made his limbs feel heavy and weak. The pain consumed his heart and his mind. Ebusu was gone. The man that raised him had been killed before his eyes.
When the guards brought him back, Kami fought to reach his side. She clawed and kicked at the guards but failed to free herself. Kenji was aware of the commotion but didn’t bother looking up. None of it mattered now.
“We are to bring him back to the Gawan dorms,” one of the guards reported.
“Then what?” another asked.
“Not sure, does it matter?”
The guard shrugged and shoved Kenji forward. Kenji stumbled, but followed along.
“Kenji, I’ll come for you! We can still fix this!” Kami called out. Kenji didn’t respond. Death couldn’t be fixed.
The guard slid the door open, and Kenji shuffled into his room. The guard tossed his sword in behind him and slammed the door shut. The sword and sheath clattered to the floor, and Kenji was alone.
He stood in the center of the room, staring at his sword. It had opened up a little from the landing, and a few inches of cold steel was exposed.
He stood there for hours. The sun set and darkness filled the room. His muscles ached, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He took only shallow breaths. His eyes burned, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off his sword.
Then the numbness started to fade. He fought it as long as he could. The numbness was better than what came next.
Kenji swallowed hard and tightened his fists. He dug his fingertips into his palm until his hands shook. He knew that when his grip faltered, he would feel it
all. His breath became erratic, coming in sudden, wheezing gasps.
His knuckles turned white and he gritted his teeth. Hot tears filled Kenji’s eyes and he knew that the comfort of feeling nothing was gone.
His knees buckled, but he didn’t catch himself. He collapsed to the ground, much like his late master had done. He wrapped his hands around his face and cried for Ebusu. Kenji didn’t know what life looked like without him. Who would protect him? Who would guide him? Kenji would never be able to make his master proud. Ebusu would never see the man that Kenji could become, the man that he created.
Kenji cried for his father. He cried for the pain of loss that Taijin felt. He cried for the emperor. He felt weak and pathetic, but he knew the feelings were true. He had done nothing to save his master. He was as guilty as Hiroshi.
The sobs wracked his body until his muscles gave out. As the night went on, Kenji had only the strength to weep. In his sorrow, Kenji came to know a new truth.
He was a poison. He ruined everyone close to him: his mother, his father, his master, even the emperor. They would have been better off without him. Maybe Ebusu would still be alive.
The sun began to rise again, but Kenji hadn’t moved. He noticed the darkness change into a dim, blue light.
His thoughts went in weak circles. He was angry at Ebusu for not letting him help. Above it all, Kenji felt alone. He knew he would never be as close to another person as he had been to Ebusu. Ebusu was more than a father. He was a teacher and a friend, a roaring fire in the darkness.
Ebusu was dead.
Kenji suddenly felt the city around him, pressing in and suffocating him. Things were better before Tenno. Nothing was the same after they came. He longed for the cool, quiet forests of his home.
An idea gripped him by the throat and refused to let go. He knew what he was going to do.
Kenji pulled his sword close and closed the sheath. Using the blade to support his trembling legs, he stood. The city sprawled out before his window, not yet awake. The sun hadn’t broken the horizon yet.
He slid his sword into his belt and opened the door to his room. He didn’t try to be quiet. The two guards assigned to his room woke with a start, jumping to their feet and gripping their swords. Kenji stepped into the hall and slammed the door shut.
“Get back to your room. Hiroshi’s orders,” one guard ordered.
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not. Turn around.”
“I’m leaving,” Kenji said again, his voice plain and devoid of emotion.
The guard drew his blade and took a wild slash at Kenji. Kenji sidestepped the attack and partially drew his sword. The bottom of his hilt slammed in to the guard’s elbow. The blow was perfectly placed, twisting his opponents arm and knocking the sword to the ground.
As the man’s sword hit the ground, Kenji finished his draw with a cut aimed at the man’s throat. He stopped as his cut touched skin. Any closer and the cut would draw blood.
The guard’s face twisted with fear and he froze.
“If anyone tries to stop me, I will take their life. Tell Hiroshi he doesn’t have to worry about me. I won’t challenge his claim to the Zettai. I’m done. The empire is his.”
Kenji withdrew his blade and sheathed it. He turned his back on the men and walked away. He heard them grumbling, but his point was clear.
Kenji was leaving Tenno behind. There was nothing left for him anywhere. He would travel towards Gawa and settle wherever he could. It didn’t matter where, as long as he was alone. The empire would go on without him, and Kami would be better off making her own way.
He would miss Kami, but she was as independent as she was fierce. She didn’t need him to slow her down. Kenji held hope that Kami would also return home, find some semblance of happiness and grow old. It was a foolish hope. She would stay until she died.
Kenji quietly made his way down the empty streets. The early morning had taken on a bitter chill, a sign of summer fading. He slipped past the gate to the fortified part of the city with relative ease. Leaving the walled portion was much easier than entering.
The rest of the city was easy to move through. He reached the stable and eventually found his horse. He paused for a moment, reflecting on the animal next to his. It was Ebusu’s.
He wondered what would become of it. It would probably be sold once no one came to pay for it. With a flick of his blade, he cut the bindings and set it free. The stable was on the edge of town, and if the horse was smart, he would gallop into the fields and find his way to a farm.
Kenji mounted and galloped to the outskirts of town. He looked back at the sun rising over Tenno. Kenji had never seen such a terrible place. The city was expansive and dark, drawing in the dawn light around it. He rode until he reached the hilltop where he had first seen Tenno. The sprawling beauty of the city meant nothing now.
Kenji stopped his horse and reached to his sword. With a sharp pull, the two strings binding the sheath to his belt came undone. He slid the sword out of its place and cast it to the ground. The sheath fell from his side and landed quietly.
There was no ceremony for Ebusu, and Kenji’s sword didn’t deserve a second thought. It hadn’t done any good. Kenji wasn’t a swordsman, not anymore. He had no use for it, and even if he did, he didn’t deserve to wield it.
Kenji looked down at his prized possession. The dew and the gravel were already clinging to the blade. It made Kenji cringe. He wanted to pick it up, clean it, and keep it at his side.
But he was too broken to wield the sword. The sword was a gift from Ebusu, and its presence was only a reminder.
He kicked the horse into a gallop. It had taken the convoy almost two weeks to reach Tenno, but Kenji hoped he could return faster alone.
Four days of hard riding was all it took. From sunrise to sunset he pushed his horse to exhaustion. When the night came, Kenji laid on the ground, praying for sleep to come. It never did, but he didn’t expect it to.
Every time he swung off the horse, Kenji could feel the city of Tenno behind him. It mocked him with his failures. It was a constant reminder.
When his eyes closed, he would see his master’s head falling to the ground. Ebusu’s face wasn’t angry or sad when his life left him. He was calm. It drove Kenji mad. How could he have peace?
On the last day of riding, Kenji recognized the territory. He was back on Gawan soil, but still a day or two from his village.
He went to spur his horse again but paused. He didn’t have any place to go. Hiroshi’s men could still come for him, and he didn’t want to bring that kind of pain to his village.
He considered living in the wild. He was surrounded by fields, and he had been for a full day. They would provide no cover or solitude.
He could go to the waterfall.
Few knew that it existed, but he knew the forest well. Perhaps he could survive there by foraging. He didn’t give it much thought. The details didn’t matter.
Kenji didn’t know if he had the strength to go to the falls. Physically he could make it, but they were a monument to Ebusu’s last lesson in Gawa. It would be a painful sight.
Kenji shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
His mind was made up. He would live out his days at the waterfall. It seemed fitting that the only company he would have were the ghosts of his father and his master.
Kenji slid off his exhausted horse and yelled at it to leave. The horse gave him a blank stare, unaffected by the shouts. After a few moments of confusion, the horse reared up and took off the way they came.
It would be too difficult to hide on horseback. On foot he could travel through the fields and forests of Gawa. Most people knew him as a champion, and he couldn't afford to be seen.
He walked until his feet couldn’t carry him. When he finally collapsed, he wrapped a horse blanket around his tired body and slept. Eventually, the rising sun or the cold dew would wake him. Then he would stand and walk more.
His thoughts were sluggish
and dark. There were times he wished he’d never met Ebusu. Ebusu could have left him to tend to his mother and learn a craft. Instead, Ebusu showed him the way of the sword, the way of death.
He wouldn’t blame Ebusu for more than a few moments. Kenji knew where the true blame belonged: himself.
He cursed himself again and again. It became a mind-numbing chant he would repeat for hours. He was a poison.
When he curled up to rest, he would think of all the questions he still had for the old swordsman. There was so much about Ebusu that Kenji didn’t know. The man had been a treasure, and Kenji squandered his time with him.
Before his anger became too strong, the empty sadness returned. Above all things, he knew he’d lost someone he’d never get back. He was alone in the world.
He hadn’t seen many riders along the path. He was thankful for it. Staying on the road helped him save precious energy.
After his second day on foot, a group of riders approached him from behind. By the time he noticed them it was too late to hide. He pulled his cloak tightly around his neck and kept his head down.
Kenji held his breath as they slowed down beside him. Instead of passing him they matched his speed and rode beside him.
“In honor of the late emperor,” the lead man said.
As he spoke, he tossed two silver coins at Kenji’s feet. Kenji looked down at them, confused.
“Go ahead, take them. Buy yourself a hot meal,” the leader announced.
With that, the group continued on. A few of them looked back at Kenji, pity etched on their faces.
Kenji stooped to gather the silver. He would have no need for it in the forest. Since Ebusu’s murder, Kenji hadn’t felt real hunger, but he couldn’t let the gift sit on the ground.
He wondered if they knew he was the champion of Gawa. Kenji looked down at himself and he knew immediately. They didn’t see him as the champion. They saw him as a homeless wanderer.
His hands were covered in dirt and shook from exhaustion. His robe was frayed at the edges, covered in stains of dirt and sweat. His feet wrappings were barely staying together, worn down to almost nothing.