by Bryce Allen
Sagura’s head snapped to the side, and the governor was sent reeling. Kenji wasn’t able to see the governor fall. The guards were on him in an instant. Pinned to the ground, all Kenji could do was savor the feeling of Sagura’s face as it crumpled against his fist.
Kenji heard the clumsy scrapings of a man trying to get to his feet. Sagura spat several times, and Kenji heard the clink of a few teeth hit the ground.
“Bind his arms and legs and carry him to his cell. Take no chances,” Sagura said. “I am sorry for this, Kenji. Perhaps someday you will have the opportunity to forgive me.”
The guards, not wanting to fail again, played it safe. Kenji was fully immobilized when the hoisted him into the air. He was given the gift of seeing Sagura one last time before they carried him out.
The governor was leaning on the wall, hunched over. Strands of saliva and blood ran from his mouth, pooling on the floor. His cheek had already started to darken and swell. Most importantly, Kenji was confident that the blood stains on his fine robe wouldn’t be easily removed.
Chapter 15
Kenji was hurled into a familiar cell. His hands and feet were still bound by rough leather straps, and he couldn’t soften his landing. He smacked his head and back hard on the cold floor. It hurt, but Kenji would live. Vestiges of his rage for Sagura still numbed his pain.
A soldier stepped in behind him. With the flick of a small blade, the bindings released Kenji and fell to the ground. The soldier shuffled backwards and slammed the cell shut. Once the cell was completely secure, the men relaxed.
They either feared Kenji, or feared Sagura.
The way Kenji was carried in, he wasn’t able to see the other cells. He assumed he wasn’t alone. The guards left the underground prison and an eerie silence filled their absence. Only the gentle drip of water from the ceiling echoed through the cavern.
Kenji was certain that he was in the same cell. The details in the brickwork were the same. The dingy bedroll was exactly how he left it. Not even the waste bucket had changed.
Kenji edged towards the bars of his cell and searched for the ghost. It was possible that Hiroshi had moved him, but not likely. Just as Kenji started to make out a slender shadow, a voice shook him from his focus.
“Did you get caught, or did you return?”
The feminine voice came from Ebusu’s old cell. Kenji leapt with surprise when he heard her.
“Kami?”
“Answer my question.” Her words cut at him with a fine metallic edge.
“I came back, but what does it matter? I got caught anyway.”
“It is the only thing that matters,” Kami said, her tone softening. Kenji could hear her relax, and he wasn’t sure what was going through her head.
“Sagura is working with Hiroshi now. He tricked me and handed me to Hiroshi,” Kenji admitted, his anger and frustration echoing through the prison.
Kami grumbled, “Politicians.”
Kenji sighed. His mind was still reeling. He was furious with Sagura, but he was also ashamed of himself. He was ashamed for believing the note, and he felt guilty for ever leaving in the first place.
Most of all, he was embarrassed at how badly he had wanted the note from Ebusu. Sagura read him like a book and leveraged his greatest weakness.
Now, he had returned to Tenno and to Kami. What did he have to show for his moment of weakness? Nothing. He had no sword, and he had no allies.
Kenji allowed himself, only for a moment, to remember the simpler times. He trained daily, but only for the sake of improvement. Ebusu would correct his form and Kenji would hang on every word.
He missed the old master.
“How did you end up in here?” Kenji said as he realized that Kami wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Kami and Hiroshi were supposed to have their final match the next day.
Kami gave a light chuckle. “I attacked Hiroshi at the House of Governors.”
Kenji couldn’t help but bark a laugh at the absurdity of it.
“How did you manage that?”
“They were keeping me in my room, which was driving me mad. I faked an illness to spend more time in the outhouse. I shaved my head, changed my clothes, and climbed out the window. When I got to the main street a soldier looked me dead in the eye and didn’t say anything.”
“You shaved your head?” It was hard for Kenji to imagine her without her long ponytail.
She ignored him. Clearly amused by her own story, she continued with passion, “I heard Hiroshi was giving a speech at the House of Governors. Something about waiting a while to let Taijin take the throne. I found my way into the building and . . .”
“How did you get in to the House of Governors? It had to be well guarded,” Kenji interjected. He was wrapped up in the story, hanging on her words. It was a pleasant distraction amidst the chaos.
“I just walked in. I think I might look like a little boy with my head shaved.”
“They didn’t take your sword?”
“I didn’t have a sword.” Kami ignored Kenji’s snort of surprise and continued, “I stepped inside, and there he was, in the main hall. All the governors and ambassadors were listening to Hiroshi talk about how Taijin wasn’t ready for the role.”
Kami continued, “I sprinted past the guards, leaped over a few governors, and struck Hiroshi square in the nose. I didn’t break it, but it bled quite a bit. Before I could hit him again, he had the Zettai drawn and held to my throat.”
“Why didn’t he kill you?”
“He had me pinned to the wall, ready to take my head. I didn’t care if I died, but I was angry, angry for everything.
“So I said,” Kami lowered her voice and repeated the words she said to Hiroshi, “‘If you kill an unarmed girl, who are you going to fight at the Tenno?’ Hiroshi was furious, but the governors were laughing. He had no choice but to keep me alive. He imprisoned me until the day of the tournament.”
Kenji leaned back and soaked in her story. Kami never disappointed, that was for sure. He admired her tenacity. It was a fun story, but it didn’t mean much. She would still have to face Hiroshi and the Zettai, and she would lose.
Kami’s story only distracted Kenji for a few moments. Once the silence came back, his mind went back to Sagura. Picturing his face made Kenji’s blood boil with hatred. He went through every interaction he ever had with the governor. He cursed himself again and again for believing the snake.
His mental cycle of anger was interrupted by the prison entrance opening. The metal hinges whined and several soldiers came in. They took their steps in unison and walked with crisp precision. Kenji knew they were here on official business.
They stopped in front of Kenji’s cell, but there was another set of footsteps behind them.
Kami’s story was confirmed when Kenji saw Hiroshi. His nose was swollen and dark. It didn’t appear to be broken, but one more hit would have crushed it.
Hiroshi nodded to his men. They took the silent cue and opened Kami’s cell. At first, Kenji jolted upright, worried they would harm her. Hiroshi noticed his agitation and held a hand up to calm Kenji.
“She is being brought to the North Toku dormitories.”
“Why?” Kenji spat.
“To prepare for the final day of the tournament. She won’t be harmed.”
Some of the tension inside Kenji dissipated, but his fiery eyes never left Hiroshi’s. Kami cursed at the soldiers but complied. They escorted her out of the prison, and Kenji wondered if he would see her again.
The door creaked shut, and only Kenji, Kaito, and Hiroshi were left. Hiroshi stood up straight. His posture never wavered. His eyes were leveled at Kenji when he spoke.
“I’m here to apologize for Sagura’s actions.”
Kenji cocked an eyebrow at Hiroshi. The man that murdered his master sounded sincere, but Kenji had grown cold to words.
“I told him to bring you back. I didn’t know he would forge a note from Ebusu. It was an act without honor and I am a lesser man and lea
der for it.”
Kenji’s disbelief widened, and he was dumbfounded. Hiroshi took deep breaths, as if he’d been preparing for the conversation. Kenji thought he saw a hint of emotion in Hiroshi’s eyes, but he kept it concealed.
“Ebusu was a good man, he deserved better.”
Hiroshi backed away from the cell, put his hands at his sides, and bowed.
Kenji didn’t know if he should scream or return the gesture. The anger festered inside him like an open wound. It never left him. Whenever he thought it was gone, the pain and angst would flair up again. He couldn’t remember what it was like without the hate.
Hiroshi straightened himself. He didn’t care if Kenji returned the bow or not, he knew his message was delivered. Kenji’s face met Hiroshi’s and they understood each other. Kenji did everything in his power to not let the tears roll down his cheek.
Hiroshi turned away and walked down the short hall of the prison.
“They’ll come for you in an hour. Good luck at the tournament.”
“You’d let me fight?” Kenji asked.
“It is what the people want, champion.”
“Let me fight with Ebusu’s blade,” Kenji called after him.
Hiroshi paused, and Kenji heard nothing for a few moments. Then the door slammed shut, and Kenji slumped backwards.
Kenji had underestimated Hiroshi from the start. He’d thought Hiroshi was a simple, wicked man. He burned everything he touched to the ground. His family was taken from him, and he was broken.
Now, though, Kenji saw another side to Hiroshi. There was a part of the man that still grappled with honor and duty. Yes, his actions were grown in anger and vengeance, but he wasn’t the madman Kenji thought him to be.
Kenji didn’t know if he would be given his master’s blade, but he had to try. If this was going to be his last fight, he wanted it by his side. He would give the people what they wanted— a fight to remember.
Then, a realization came to Kenji. It was a flash of insight unlike any other. It provided pain and clarity. He tried to think his way out of it or prove himself wrong, but his thoughts only confirmed his feelings.
He and Hiroshi were not that different. They were both controlled by ghosts of their past. Both were driven by forces greater than themselves. They had both lost so much.
Kenji’s mouth hung open and he contemplated the idea. His eyes searched the walls but focused on nothing. He was lost to his thoughts. The wickedness that he despised in Hiroshi was suddenly clear in himself. He was driven by anger, sadness, and guilt.
His frustration mounted, and he confronted the source of it all.
“Kaito,” Kenji called out to the darkness.
The name reverberated through the stone chambers and dissipated. Kenji thought that he was gone for a moment. Just before Kenji called out again, something in the cell across from him stirred.
Kaito stepped into view. His skin was a sheet of white, stretched over fragile bones. His glassy eyes wandered the surroundings, a pale-blue sphere where a black pupil should have been.
“Yes, champion?”
“Why haven’t you killed yourself?” Kenji went right to the burning question. He didn’t have the willpower for anything else.
Kaito nodded, ignoring the brazen aggression of the question.
“Why do you ask?” he answered.
“Because you are to blame for all of this. You created the anger inside Hiroshi. You took everything from him. Your actions are hurting people, even today. I know you feel guilt.”
“That is true, champion.”
Kaito took a few weak steps to the side of his cell. He stabilized his weak legs by resting against it. He took a few breaths and looked back at Kenji’s direction.
“I live because it is my penance. It would be a disservice to those I’ve hurt to end my life. I will pass when fate deems it so, not a moment earlier.”
There was a resolve to Kaito’s statement. Kenji detected a hint of pride in the old man as he spoke. Kaito’s chest swelled, and his blind eyes focused for a second.
“Several years after the rebellion, the emperor came to me. He gave me permission to end my life, he said that I had suffered enough.”
Kaito paused for a while, but Kenji knew he wasn’t finished.
“I swore to him I would live, for his wife and for the countless others I hurt. For your father, even.”
Kenji sat back. He didn’t know what to say. He had no response for Kaito. He waded through the words, trying to understand them.
Reading into Kenji’s confusion, Kaito spoke. “I don’t expect you to understand, champion.”
The old man slinked back to the shadows of his cell and faded from view. Kenji was left alone with his thoughts. Time and time again his perspective was being challenged. Before all this, there was only right, wrong, and the sword. There was nothing in between.
Now, Hiroshi, Taishi, and even Kaito were chipping away at that view. Kenji’s over-simplification made things easier to understand. It made the loss of his father easier to process. It even softened the blow of losing Ebusu, in a way.
Kenji’s mind wandered to his own life. He didn’t want to die. There were many simple pleasures he would miss, like the warmth of a good meal after a long day of training or locking eyes with a pretty girl. He would not go quietly at Hiroshi’s blade, but he didn’t carry any hope for victory.
Somehow, Kenji found comfort in his cell and slept. It was a deep, restful sleep, despite his circumstances. He thought that me might have had a pleasant dream. The iron door to the prison slammed shut, waking him.
The guards tossed him fresh clothing and a wet rag. He was ordered to clean himself and change. The robes weren’t his, but Kenji recognized the Gawan symbol on the back of the top. It was some sort of champion’s garb consisting of three pieces, a coat, pants, and a belt.
After Kenji cleaned himself, he slipped the robes on. They were comfortable enough, although new. They fit like a training robes. He tightened the belt around his waist and he was ready. The robes were a deep-navy color except for the golden Gawan oak on the back. All things considered, it was nicer clothing than a prisoner deserved.
The guards opened the cell and began to close shackles around his wrists and ankles. They may have let him dress himself, but they still weren’t taking chances. Kenji used the time to speak to Kaito.
“Kaito.”
The guards shot concerned looks to each other as they worked on his bindings, but they didn’t silence him.
“Yes?”
Kaito leaned forward, revealing only his slender face and dead eyes.
Kenji was similar to Hiroshi in many ways. He knew that, if fate willed it, their roles could have been reversed. However, Kenji would not allow himself to be controlled by the past, not anymore. If he was going to die today, he was going to die unburdened.
“I forgive you. I forgive you for everything.”
Kaito’s jaw dropped a little. His lip trembled and his eyes watered. A little color returned to his cheeks as his skin reddened.
“Thank you.” Kaito could barely manage a whisper.
Tears streaming down his sunken cheeks, Kaito leaned forward and reached his arm through the bars toward Kenji.
One of the soldiers moved to swat the hand away and shifted between the two prisoners. For a second, there was confusion in the room. No one moved. Kenji glared at the soldiers. He bared his teeth but didn’t move. He wanted them to keep their distance, but he didn’t want to pose a threat.
The soldiers paused, and the one in charge gave a reluctant nod.
Kenji knelt before Kaito’s slender arm. The shackles on Kenji’s wrists echoed through the prison as he took Kaito’s hand. He wrapped both his hands around Kaito’s, and they waited there for a moment.
Kaito let out a sob but restrained the others. Kenji gently squeezed the man’s hand and released.
A peace came over Kenji unlike any other. Years of frustration vanished. The countless days spent s
ulking and cursing the heavens seemed pointless. He could finally open his eyes and absorb what he was seeing. His whole body shivered as the mental burden lifted.
Once he and Kaito parted, the guards were back on Kenji. They handled him roughly, their egos bruised. They shackled his ankles together and stood in formation around him. They shoved him forward and he shuffled to the exit.
“As I must live for those I’ve killed, you must live for those you’ve lost.”
The words hit Kenji like a cold mountain river. Kaito shouted the words through the prison. Kenji couldn’t see the old man, but he would hardly have believed Kaito had the power to generate such volume. Kenji tried to turn and see Kaito, but a sharp jab kept him moving forward.
They were powerful words, but the odds were against him. He knew, though, that he had to try.
Chapter 16
The seats were already filled when Kenji was escorted to the staging area. He was alone. The gate to the arena was barred shut, and it appeared as though a new lock had been installed on the door leading out to the city. Kenji didn’t mind the solitude.
Staring out at the faces surrounding the arena, Kenji saw a wide range of emotions. Some were solemn, still broken from the loss of their emperor. Others were confused and on edge.
The empire had been through so much in the past months. The people had lost Jin, the longest-serving and well-loved wielder of the Zettai. They had lost their emperor in the shadows of night. Now, there were whispers among the governors and ambassadors that Taijin wasn’t fit for leadership. The glue that held them together was being ripped away.
His thoughts shifted to Kaito’s words. Kenji was about to face the Zettai and the man that killed his master. The best part of Kenji screamed at him: fight this man and win, for Ebusu and the empire. Kaito’s words never left him.
Then another voice told him to say goodbye to the world and prepare for death. He ignored it. It would be a hard fight, and he might die. It didn’t matter.
“Kenji.”
As deep in his thoughts as he was, Kenji almost didn’t hear the person next to him.