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“There were a number of factors that led to the Great War, or what the Yammankalu call the Keleba. Ke-le-ba.”
Mixed theonites such as the Abirians could never hope to stand unaided against a pure-blooded tajaka army.
all the major theonite powers—Kaigen, Yamma, Abtya, and Sizwe—were
‘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.’
He had to fight. A Matsuda always stood and fought, but Mamoru had never taken a hit—from a foot, fist, or practice sword—that left him this shaken. He felt sick deep in his stomach.
Truthfully, the Matsuda family currently couldn’t pay the Kotetsus what they were worth. Mamoru’s last two-month apprenticeship with the blacksmiths hadn’t been training as much as it had been paying off the Matsuda family’s last sword order in labor.
“You can’t expect a city boy like him to understand our ways, no matter how you try to explain. We’re just an oddity to him. A myth. A silly fantasy from far in the past.”
“A thousand years ago,”
Your swordmaster, Yukino Dai, is a descendant of Yukino Hayase, as Matsuda Mamoru and his family are descendants of Matsuda Takeru.
Mamoru had no way of knowing that he had lived his whole life within an arm’s reach of a Zilazen glass sword. The black blade had been bundled away under the floorboards of the Matsudas’ kitchen shortly before he was born and had stayed there, untouched, ever since. It was a slight weapon, barely bigger than a traditional wakizashi, but it had seen more combat than any katana in the Matsuda dojo. Of course, Mamoru had no way of knowing any of that. His mother, after all, did not talk about her past.
The chemical solution served two purposes, distorting any fingerprints she, Robin, or Elleen might have left and rendering blood unfit for DNA testing. It was one of the ways they prevented law enforcement or anyone else with lab equipment from uncovering their identities.
The flames climbed high against the clouds before spreading out into the pair of wings that had given Firebird his name. By now, everyone in this part of Livingston knew what the signal meant: criminals were ready for the police to pick up.
You realize that’s the idea, don’t you? Not to destroy the people of this city but to make them better.”
It’s easy to judge when you inherit property, and an important name, and amazing powers from your parents.” Robin’s voice had grown heated. “How easy do you think it is to build a life out of nothing?”
Her father always said there were things you couldn’t train into a fighter—spirit, courage, the ability to be something bigger than oneself.
“I’m just trying to make things better.” “You’re an idiot.”
part of her felt a need to defend her culture from these outsiders who clearly didn’t understand
Power was born into a person and lived in the wordless depths of their soul. The strength of a bloodline wasn’t something you sang about; it was something the holder knew and others witnessed.
Real power needed no words. It spoke for itself.
“Most strong things are rigid. If you are water, you can shift to fit any mold and freeze yourself strong. You can be strong in any shape. You can be anything.”
“But that’s the only reason I’m here.” Misaki’s voice shook.
“Why don’t you try taking responsibility for the things you can control instead of the things you can’t?”
you don’t strike me as someone so childish she can’t take control of her own happiness.”
looked more closely at his face and realized that he wasn’t just exhausted. He was in pain. What’s wrong? She wanted to ask, but that wasn’t the sort of thing you asked a man and a warrior, even if you were his mother.
Mamoru looked at her like a drowning man watching the shore recede—and
Her boy was in agony. And Misaki experienced a stab of something she had not felt in a long time: protective instinct, an overwhelming desire to shelter, to comfort, to heal at any cost.
she needed to be honest. And her honesty was rusty. “You know, I…” She started with a small truth, just to see how it would feel.
You learn over time that the world isn’t broken. It’s just… got more pieces to it than you thought. They all fit together, just maybe not the way you pictured when you were young.”
listening never made any man dumber, but it’s made a lot of people smarter.”
with a wide smile. “I think I learned something.” Misaki only stared. “What?” She tilted her head. “You have dimples.” “I got them from you.”
This is it, Misaki realized. This was the joy they had all promised, in a single, simple hope: Mamoru might grow up to be different from his father.
The three-year-old had clambered on top of his big brother and was alternately tugging his hair and slapping his face. “Wake up!” “Kaa-chan,” Mamoru grumbled, his eyes blinking open. “I’m being attacked by a demon.”
For fifteen years Misaki had lamented being fated to raise her husband’s sons. All that time, she hadn’t considered that these boys might have something of her in them too.
Misaki should have realized that it was only a matter of time before he did something stupid. He wasn’t a jaseli, trained to retain and process the truths of the world, nor was he a peaceful craftsman. He was a fighter, with a fighter’s ferocity. And there was a reason the jaseliwu, finawu, and numuwu of the world kept certain things from their koronu. Jaseliwu had the power to wrangle ideas without spilling blood. When koronu clashed, the results were always ugly.
The storms, Kaa-san said, were a reminder of their place in the world. “Ours is borrowed power,” she would say, “a gift and a blessing. The true power belongs to the gods.”
She had to wonder, that all these years, this boy had been growing up right in front of her—and she had missed it.
If you knew anything about fighting, you’d have seen when we fought—I’m not fast enough to counter him.”
“You feel disillusioned with Kaigen. I understand that. But just think for a moment; does that really change your reason for fighting?” “I… I guess it doesn’t?” Mamoru frowned. “It just doesn’t feel right, thinking that people have fought and died and we’ll never know the truth about it. I don’t know if I want to fight for an Empire that disrespects its koronu like that. There are warriors who aren’t remembered for what they did—” “Well, do you fight to be remembered?” Misaki asked. “I… I didn’t mean that—” “I’m asking honestly,” Misaki said. “Do you fight for personal glory? So the name
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“You’re noble, Kaa-chan.” “That is the dumbest thing you’ve said all day.
learned is that the act of fighting in and of itself isn’t important. What was really important to me was protecting the people I cared about.
You just lectured Mamoru about not being strong enough to fight through his doubt. You’ll beat your son into the ground, but you can’t be bothered to fight for yourself?
If he wanted to make himself miserable, so be it. It wasn’t her place to argue.
she said and poured the hot tea in his cup instead of his lap.
“Oh, you’ll earn your father’s pride”—There was a clink as Takashi poured himself more sake—“or spend the rest of your life trying, like he did, like our old man did, like his old man before him. You’ll grow, and you’ll train, and grow, and train with all your soul until one day you’ll be sitting behind the Kumono desk wondering why the hell you took all that time to become such a powerful fighter. So you could do battle with schedules and registration forms? So you could pass all that tedious nonsense on to your own son?”
I’m glad I have a little girl.”
“I’m taking the boys.”
And with those three syllables, she was certain for the first time that her husband could feel an emotion. He could hate.
Stay! She wanted to beg. Stay where I can protect you!
when had his hands gotten so big and strong?
Her sweet face was pretty even as the color drained from her cheeks and her eyes glazed over. She looked to be about thirty, no older than Yukino Sensei’s own wife, Hyori—and though her dark chuckle had reminded Mamoru of Kaa-chan’s, she really did look like Hyori… The hands on Takenagi shook. “No…” Yukino Sensei said in a low voice. “I didn’t…”
