The Sword of Kaigen

by M.L. Wang

Mamoru’s family compound was built high enough that he could have taken an easier way if he chose, but Matsudas weren’t known for taking the easy way to anything.

“This is so funny,” he said, shaking out the uniform’s broad blue sleeves. “I feel like I’m in one of those old samurai movies.” “Well, for us, this is just a normal school uniform,” Mamoru said, frowning.

Culture shock

“This place is weird.” Kwang ran his hands over his sleeves, looking at the ornately-carved temple halls around him. “It’s like I stepped through a portal back in time.”

Her sons were Matsudas first and foremost. Their sole purpose was to grow to be powerful warriors, like their father before them, and his father before him. They belonged to the Matsuda house, as she did.

That kinda sucks

“You don’t need to play dumb with us. We like you better when you’re smart.”

Many Shirojima women were ‘pretty,’ but Hyori was the kind of legendary beauty men went to war for.

Her sort of beauty had little to do with physical attributes. It wasn’t the short hair cropped about her ears; it was the way she shook it out and sighed in pleasure when she was enjoying the weather. It wasn’t her big eyes with their dark lashes; it was the way they crinkled up with mirth at the smallest things. It wasn’t her bulky frame; it was the way she threw it around with careless confidence in a world where everyone, ladies and swordsmen alike, stepped so lightly.

It wasn’t a glamorous job, but Setsuko was the kind of person who could be at her most charming elbow-deep in fish guts, with loose strands of hair sticking to the sweat on her temples. Misaki had to imagine that many people had fallen in love with the stocky fisherwoman with the carefree grin,

Often, energy speaks louder physical attraction

Misaki looked up at her brother-in-law, incredulous and more than a little annoyed. If you like the girl, just tell her straight, she wanted to snap. Don’t blow the family fortune on fish! But it wasn’t her place to question him, and it wasn’t that simple.

Be careful, big brother, she wanted to say then, be careful how hard you love what you know you can’t have.

But Takashi had been lucky—or rather, just the right combination of lucky, reckless, and clever. He had struggled, and schemed, and spun excuses, and somehow managed to hold off marriage until his tyrannical father had passed away and there were no Matsuda elders left to tell him what to do. Then, instead of marrying a pure-blooded noblewoman of his family’s choosing, Takashi married the woman he loved—the peasant with the loud laugh who sold him his fresh fish.

The things we do for love

Takashi would never know, but in marrying Setsuko, he might have saved Misaki’s life. The fisherwoman had moved into the Matsuda compound shortly after Misaki’s second miscarriage, a loud burst of color when everything seemed gray.

“I know how to smile.” There had been a time Misaki had been accused of smiling too much, but over the years, Takayubi had worn away at her, turning her into this quivering, brittle thing, afraid the sound of her own voice might shake her to pieces if she spoke too loud.

She stared at Setsuko for a moment and realized that she had forgotten how to respond to this type of kindness.

“Not when I make it, he won’t. Why do you think I was always the one hauling the fish to market instead of staying home to help in the kitchen? My family tried my cooking exactly once and then decided they’d rather live.”

What Setsuko didn’t understand was that this unfamiliar creature—this fearless, ridiculous woman who ran fast and played with swords—was an echo from a time when Misaki’s whole life had been happy.

“His father is Matsuda Takeru,” Hyori said, “master of the Whispering Blade, the greatest swordsman on the mountain.” “And a terrible teacher,” Misaki said. “The extent of his instruction is to cross his arms, glower, and say, ‘Bad. Do it again.” She pulled her face into a scowl and plunged to the lower limit of her vocal register to affect her husband’s clipped monotone. “Still bad. Do it again. Listen. Get it right or I’ll gut you, you disgrace. What do you mean you don’t understand? What’s to understand? Just do it right.”

Asian parenting, I would know

“What? You mean like this?” Misaki thundered. “Silly woman, you couldn’t possibly understand such matters. My manliness does not allow for human inflection.” The trio plunged into another fit of giggles, and because their mothers were laughing, Ryota and Nagasa ended up laughing too.

They would never change the world, nor understand why someone would want to, but they loved her. She could laugh with them, and that was enough.

“Tajakalu may be able to use their physical strength to throw a projectile,” Yukino Sensei said, turning back to his class. “Fonyakalu may be able to use their nyama to push against one. Our nyama is the projectile. When a weapon is made of ice, we can control it down to the molecule. As jijakalu, we are the only race of theonite who can fight with a solid weapon that is truly an extension of the self.”

Ryuhon tradition claimed that the great families of Kusanagi were descended from the ocean gods who had dwelt in the Sea of Kaigen at the dawn of time. Most people of the peninsula regarded this part of their tradition as more metaphor than fact. Logically, there was no way human beings could be the direct descendants of titanic fish and sea dragons.

Or can they?

Relax your shoulders and focus on accuracy over force.”

that.” In his anxiety, Mamoru didn’t seem to be able to control the stupid things coming out of his mouth.

In the space of time it takes a normal boy to grasp a technique, you’ve already improved it and expanded it to all its potential applications. It’s rather annoying, as your teacher.” “Sorry about th—” “But I have no doubt that it is precisely that kind of ingenuity that gave rise to the Whispering Blade in the first place. A student like you, who can absorb what he is told but also think beyond it, is capable of anything.”

“First, there was the tension between the colonial powers, Yamma and Sizwe, which were in constant competition with each other for the resources of Baxaria. Next, there was the tension created by the Baxarian colonies rejecting Yammanka and Sizwean rule. Last, of course, there was the tension between our own great empire and the extremist rebels in the west who would one day betray their emperor to establish the Ranganese Union.”

Besides,” he murmured even more quietly, “I’ve heard all this crap before anyway.”

Outsider's perspective aware of the brainwash

“Now, there are several background dates you will need to know in regard to the Keleba. The first one is 5153.” He wrote the date on the board. “This is the year of the first Abirian rebellion, when a group of violent extremists calling themselves the Longhouse Confederacy developed enough of a following to mount armed resistance against the Yammanka Empire. Abiria, despite being plagued by inter-tribal violence and not having a stable government of its own, wanted independence from Yamma. Of course, these disorganized rebels were quickly subdued by Yamma’s superior forces.”

“With their inferior genes, the Abirians’ defeat was inevitable. The Yammankalu are pure-blooded tajakalu, born and bred to wield the power they possess, whereas the Abirians who opposed them were of mixed blood, the product of intermarriage between the Abirian natives, Yammankalu, Kaigenese immigrants, and most damaging of all, Hadean slaves. This kind of impurity dilutes the divine energies that give theonites their power. Mixed theonites such as the Abirians could never hope to stand unaided against a pure-blooded tajaka army.

Hmm

“This is your past. This is your heritage. You are here at this school because you are the descendants of the greatest fighters Duna has ever seen. The best blood in the world flows through your veins. If you learn well, listen well, and work hard, the Sword of Kaigen will survive, bright and sharp, to be passed down to your sons, and their sons after them.”

Indoctrination

“She says she can feel it,” Setsuko said, “an ‘old fisherwoman’s intuition’ or something like that. She says fonyaka wind tastes different from the normal sea air.”

an intuitive foreshadow

The Kusanagi Peninsula extended far out into the Kaigenese Sea, barring the way to the archipelago’s safe ports and beaches. Any invader from the sea had to first get past the mountainous spit of land and its inhabitants.

Geological advantages?

“Our brothers and husbands are powerful enough to turn away any invaders. And anyway, if there was a serious threat from the Ranganese, the government would have told us.” “Maybe,” Misaki said, doubtful.

Tension

“You… are you saying our government would lie to us?” The answer was ‘yes,’ of course, but Misaki couldn’t say that straight. That just wasn’t the sort of thing you said in Kaigen.

Censored knowledge through the twisting of history

The funny thing about these jaseliwu was that, depending on their family, their native region of Yamma, and the koronu they served, they told vastly different histories. Sometimes two of them would sit right next to each other and tell conflicting accounts of the same event. I talked to one of these jaseliwu. I asked him how he could say that his history was true when the next jaseli over told me a different story and claimed that his was the truth. In my mind, one of them had to be lying. I told him that.”

‘there are a million ways to tell the same story. Our job as jaseliwu is to find the one the listener needs to hear. Not necessarily the one that makes them the happiest or the one that gives them the most information, but the one they need to hear to do what they need to do.’

They weren’t issued government-approved scripts to recite, but that wasn’t a discussion Hyori would appreciate. “Our Emperor tells us the things we need to hear.”

“Well, then she probably made it up,” Hyori said with the kind of innocent confidence that could only come from a life lived in the mists of nationalism.

“And anyway,” Hyori continued matter-of-factly, “it doesn’t matter how strong the Ranganese Union has gotten because Kaigen is stronger now too. You can look at any news report to see that our military is bigger than ever, and our economy is booming.”

But here, high in the obscuring mists of Takayubi, where nothing seemed to have changed for a thousand years, it was easy to believe the fantasy of a stable world.

A little eerie

“I was trying not to,” Kwang said, “and I wouldn’t call the garbage that jaseli was regurgitating history.” “What do you mean?” Itsuki demanded as he and Yuuta caught up. “You realize that at least half the stuff he tells you isn’t even true.” Kwang looked around at the three Takayubi boys. “It’s propaganda.”

“Falleke!” Kwang swore. “You guys in this village really believe all this stuff, don’t you? You believe everything the government tells you?” “Why wouldn’t we?” Itsuki asked earnestly. “You must see what’s happening here.” Kwang’s voice was almost imploring as he looked from one face to the next. “The Emperor is using you.” “We’re happy to serve our Emperor,” Yuuta chimed in passionately. “How can he be using us?”

“We are the Sword of Kaigen,” Yuuta said fiercely, “the defenders of the Empire.” Kwang scoffed. “That’s a fancy way of saying ‘cannon fodder.’” Mamoru’s voice turned to ice. “What did you just say?”

This is too real, I'm actually flipping

You may think you’re great warriors with some noble purpose, but as far as the capital is concerned, you’re just game pieces.”

“You’re a good fighter,” Kwang said, somehow still smug with a blade at his throat, “and your small-town pride is cute, but it’s all based on a lie.”

“You’re talented, Mamoru, but talent is meaningless without self-discipline.

The shame in Mamoru’s chest turned to physical pain. He had to clench his teeth to keep from blurting out ‘Please don’t tell her!’ He knew a real warrior wasn’t supposed to concern himself with the opinions of women, but Mamoru couldn’t help it. He dreaded his mother’s disappointment more than any man’s hard glare. She was a small woman with a sweet smile and a quiet voice, yet there was a knowing intelligence in her eyes that Mamoru had always found the smallest bit unsettling. There were times it felt as though she could see straight through him, to his beating heart and all the flaws it sent pulsing through his veins.

“It’s possible the government ordered them not to,” Kwang suggested. “It happens. If the Emperor is good at one thing, it’s censorship.”

“So you islanders won’t leave, so you’ll stay here and keep fishing the coasts and farming the land to fuel our dying economy, so you’ll die protecting his lands, instead of moving into the overpopulated cities and getting disillusioned about the state of the Empire like everyone else.”

You are a Matsuda, he tried to tell himself. You are solid ice, but his inner sea had turned to roiling brine.

I wonder why...

“Listen, I don’t know how it works in all the fancy foreign places you’ve traveled, but here in Takayubi, we value honesty. We don’t just make up ridiculous, self-serving lies whenever we feel like it.”

Ironic