The Sword of Kaigen

by M.L. Wang

but what kind of Matsuda would he be if a little breeze threw him off balance? With the next gust of wind, the stack of dummies tipped toward the shelves. Mamoru leaned forward, snatched a size-four uniform from its shelf, and sprang from the top of the stack to the floor before anything fell.

So he cold

Great War, or what the Yammankalu call the Keleba. Ke-le-ba.”

Yamma and Sizwe, which were in constant competition with each other for the resources of Baxaria.

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.”

“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.

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,

“5288. Under the influence of corrupt politicians, a collection of cities, led by Ranga, rose against the Kaigenese Empire.

“5289, the year that Yamma defeated Sizwe for control of Malusia and pressed to take Sizwe’s other colonies,

“5290. Kaigen’s western provinces rose up in rebellion once again. Using propaganda and false promises, the Thulanist rebels managed to trick the uneducated peasants of Ranga into following them in greater numbers than ever before.

Sizwe aligned itself both with our own rebel enemies and with the Abirian rebels fighting against Yamma for their independence. This led to open war between Yamma and Sizwe.

Kaigen, Yamma, Abtya, and Sizwe—were at war.

“Yammanka pilots tell of flying the length of the peninsula to find the beaches awash in red, like the edge of the blade that has tasted victory.

‘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.’

“Fonyakalu are just untrained peasants. Jijakalu are purer, more powerful.”

It couldn’t be true—but it couldn’t be a lie—but it couldn’t be true, and Mamoru couldn’t seem to find his balance. Kwang’s words had knocked the world off its axis.

“Just look at it for a dinma. Have you ever seen a Kaigenese jet this shape?”

His forehead thudded against the cockpit. It had been decades since this plane hit the mountainside, yet Mamoru could feel it crashing through everything he knew, scattering the broken pieces to the elements.

He followed the mist and condensation, sinking and trickling gently downward until he could feel the heavy ripple of liquid water—the Kumono Lake. Its weight eased a slow breath from Mamoru’s body, relaxing his muscles.

On a map of Kaigen, the people of Mount Takayubi were lumped into a single ‘Takayubi Village.’ In reality, there were four distinct villages on the mountain, each populated by a different type of people.

“long before metal was ever spun into conductive wires and space-going satellites, the most coveted metal in Kaigen was made by a small family of blacksmiths living here in Takayubi. Their surpassing skill in forging tools and weapons earned them the name Kotetsu, which means ‘steel’ in Shirojima Dialect. Though the laws of kafonu and kamaya had not yet come to Kaigen, this blacksmith family formed a close relationship of patronage with the noble house of Matsuda—a deep bond of blood and steel, which ensured that the Kotetsu smiths would always be protected, and the Matsudas would always have their superior swords.

“Not only that, he let him return to the ancestral Yukino castle and rule there. Takeru married Yukino Izumi’s oldest daughter, Mitsuki, to ensure an enduring peace between their houses. Your swordmaster, Yukino Dai, is a descendant of Yukino Hayase, as Matsuda Mamoru and his family are descendants of Matsuda Takeru. Their two families have coexisted in this region for a thousand years, never without tensions, but never without respect. For it was our ancestors—Matsuda, Yukino, and Kotetsu—who ushered in the first Ryuhon Falleya state in Shirojima.”

The moon and the ocean fear no change.

Other girls at Daybreak tended to react with revulsion to the idea of growing up to become a housewife. A deep, restless part of Misaki was relieved to be in a place where her viciousness was an expectation, not a surprise. Another, equally deep part of her felt a need to defend her culture from these outsiders who clearly didn’t understand it.

Misaki had never understood how a song was supposed to make a person strong. 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.

Favorite Quote

“Why don’t you try taking responsibility for the things you can control instead of the things you can’t?”

“I know we haven’t known each other for long, but you don’t strike me as someone so childish she can’t take control of her own happiness.”

“See, that’s the hard part,” Misaki said, “coming to terms with what you don’t know, finding the answers, and acting on them without regret. Some people never learn. Some people learn too late.

“Thank you, Kaa-chan.” Mamoru turned to her 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.”

“Why would it bother me?” Mamoru said. “This is good news. I’m the son of two great fighters, instead of one. This is good. It means that I must be strong. I should be proud.”

Somehow, despite everything, despite this tiny village, his frigid father, his bitter mother, his brainwashing school, despite all of it, Mamoru was growing up into a good person.

“Do you fight for personal glory? So the name Matsuda Mamoru will go down in history? Or do you fight for the thrill? Or the privilege of serving your Emperor? You need to ask yourself these questions. The only way to find that conviction you’re missing is to know beyond a doubt what you’re fighting for.”

“They’re like leaves…” Mamoru said. A flurry of yellow leaves, buffeted by breeze, never quite touching the ground. “Well, they’ve come in the wrong season. Autumn dies in the teeth of winter.”

It was forgotten, along with everything from her life before. But the little blade had never left her mind or her heart. Her hands found the weapon as easily as if she had put it there yesterday. “What is that?” Setsuko asked as Misaki straightened up on her knees and brushed a cloud of dust from the sheath. “This…” In spite of everything, Misaki found a smile on her lips. “This is Shadow’s Daughter.”

“Don’t worry.” Misaki tied the obsidian sword at her hip and realized how much she had ached for its weight there. A baby just wasn’t the same. “I know what I’m doing.”

The double doors blew open. As splintered wood clattered to the floor, Misaki found herself face to face with four men in yellow uniforms—well, not quite face to face. Her body was angled slightly to hide the sword at her hip, giving her the appearance of a diminutive housewife. In its own way, that was better cover than any shadow.

His blade had already tasted blood. Now that he knew the feeling, the movements came more easily. The first fonyaka caught his katana in the stomach, falling into two pieces across it.

Like all of Kotetsu Tamami’s work, the ornament was a masterpiece, a sensitive composition of pearls and pink lacquer blossoms. Blood ran in between the petals, accentuating the beauty of all their details for a moment before consuming them in red.

His Empire was counting on him.

The sword of Kaigen!

The dragon killer ripped the blade free, and Mamoru watched his own insides spill from his body. Reality overcame him like river waters breaking through the last of winter’s ice. I’m dead, he realized with chilling clarity. I’m dead.

Damnnnn…what’s the 50% left of this book about?

And the world snapped into focus. The pain was sharp, but small, unimportant somehow. Suddenly, it wasn’t as though he was missing fingers. His fingers were the snow. They were the rivers, reaching all the way down the mountain to sink into the ocean and grasp the power of gods. He wasn’t bleeding out. He was the mountain. For the first time in his life, he was perfectly, overwhelmingly whole.

The dragon killer didn’t look like he had felt any pain. If anything, he looked faintly surprised, his eyes wide and his lips parted. Just a human. Here with Mamoru at the end of the living world. As his body grew warm and numb, Mamoru wondered if this fonyaka had someone to remember him across the ocean—a father, a mother, someone who would be proud to hear that he had died on the Sword of Kaigen.

One didn’t need to be a fina to understand that regret was like poison to the spirits of the dead. A spirit who regretted what he hadn’t accomplished in life would be unable to pass into the peace of the Laaxara. Those spirits became trapped in the burning realm on the fringe of the Duna, unable to truly die, their suffering intensifying as their regrets festered. It was a horrible existence. And it was the souls of those who died young, in the midst of hope, unfinished business, and unfulfilled potential who were in the most danger.

“No warrior could have fought through injuries like yours without being sure of himself.”

“They died in battle,” Takeru said. “No.” Song nodded to his men, and they threw their torches in, setting the pyre ablaze. “They died in a storm.”

There is no war in Ba Sing Se 😧

The last time I spoke to him, he had decided that if enemies came to Takayubi, he would fight them no matter what. Whether the Emperor commanded it or not, whether he was remembered for it or not, he would fight to protect the people of this mountain and all the farmers and fishermen behind it. And that was what he did. He…”

They understood. “They gave their lives protecting Takayubi,” Misaki continued, her voice stronger than she expected. “Now it’s time for us to protect it. That’s what we can do for them.”

He didn’t move. That’s what I thought, a vicious part of Misaki growled. “I think we are done.”

“You lost your right to my obedience when you stopped being a man!” Misaki cut him off. “If you want me to go back to the house, you’ll have to fight me. I’ve stood by too long while you disgraced yourself, but this—this is the last time you will be weak in front of me. One of us is going to rest here with our son. Draw!”

Maybe they’ll finally see each other as equals

“A different sort of being?” Misaki repeated. “A bigger being,” he said, “so big that I, Matsuda Takeru, cease to matter. The first time it happened to me, I was very young. On that day, the snow fell thick, as it does now. My father was beating me for something. He knocked me down in the snow in the courtyard. And with my palms to the ground, I realized that I could disperse myself into the snow, spreading all across the mountain, even to the sea below and deeper, deeper, until the pain diffused through my new being, like a drop of blood into a pool. Maybe the pain and shame were too much for a small boy to hold, but the mountain… the mountain could bear it all.”

The enemy that loomed before her now was not Matsuda Takeru himself, but the bitterness of silence that had built up between them over fifteen years. She would fight it, kill it. And when she was done, she would have a husband.