The Sword of Kaigen

by M.L. Wang

“Sometimes, I am not a man,” he said slowly. “I am the mountain.”

“It is a state I have been able to effect since I was a child. I retreat deep into the snow and rivers and sink myself into the ocean below, and everything on this mountain becomes me, and I become the mountain. It looks like meditation, but it is more. It is becoming a different sort of being.” “A different sort of being?” Misaki repeated. “A bigger being,” he said, “so big that I, Matsuda Takeru, cease to matter.

“What are you?” Takeru whispered. Something bigger than myself, she realized. “I’m Matsuda Misaki,” she said with pride and honesty she never attached to those words before. “I’m your wife.” And she attacked him.

In the uncertainty of youth, Mamoru had been closer to true clarity than his father ever had been. Takeru had demanded that Mamoru stand and fight for his truth. Now that his wife was asking him to stand, all he could do was shatter, and shatter, and shatter.

If she truly wanted to kill him, then he was alone. He was willing to stand and fight, but he would rather die than do it alone. It wasn’t just the challenge of responsibility he was accepting as his hand touched hers; he was accepting her.

“No, ‘watch your head,’” Robin said. “Kisee bhee cheez par apana sir mat maaro. Don’t hit your head on anything.”

Hindiiiii

Misaki realized that the beautiful, rolling language Robin and Daniel spoke with each other must be Disaninke—a language Robin had not had much occasion to use since being forced to flee his homeland of Disa as a small child.

“But if I learned one thing from Firebird, it’s that a person’s tragedy doesn’t define them or cancel all the good in their life.

“Why would he need my forgiveness? He protected me. With how much of a little Matsuda he is, my forgiveness might be an insult to him.” “Maybe. But he needs to know that he has it.” “You really think so?” “You know he does.”

Robin looked up at Misaki and Takeru. “I thought that your houses were as close as theonites could get to gods.” “We are,” Misaki said. “Then I think…” Robin stared down at his hand. “I think I might have gotten on the wrong side of a god.”

“Let’s be older when we meet again,” Misaki said. “What?” “Not just in years. Let’s be better and wiser and brighter next time.”

Maybe that was the ‘how’ Robin had been looking for, the simple magic by which she held herself together. Love for what she had and what was gone. Love no matter the pain.