The Sword of Kaigen

by M.L. Wang

“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. The speed of her youth seemed to surge into her limbs—but more than that. She was something more than Tsusano Misaki or Sirawu, the Shadow. She was fighting for something greater than one life, or five, or ten. Takeru’s will to live, Mamoru’s soul, her family’s future, the survival of Takayubi itself, all hung on her blade edge. That was something the Shadow, in all her blind love and ruthlessness, would never have understood.

TAKERU

Perhaps she was stronger than he was. Perhaps it was impossible for him to overcome this woman who seemed to carry the force of an army inside her. But she was right. A Matsuda didn’t balk before the impossible.

Misaki was rushing toward him now, the final, most important part of his life bearing down on him. And he saw them both for what they were: a woman who needed her husband, and a man who needed his wife. That clarity sharpened to an edge. The Whispering Blade met Misaki’s obsidian sheath and sheared through it. Her eyes went wide, and she smiled—Gods in the Deep, she smiled—a raw, open smile, and it was the most beautiful thing in all the Duna.

And Misaki somehow understood why he had given her that last opening. 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. Cool fingers ran over Misaki’s sword hand, over her sleeve to brush the hair back from her face. In the falling snow, Takeru stared at the woman he had married and saw her for the first time. “I accept.”

“Shall I get my niece?” It was what Setsuko had started calling Siradenyaa, since Misaki had explained the little sword’s origins and the name ‘Shadow’s Daughter.’

Love her real bad

“Respectfully, General, the Emperor’s troops didn’t protect this province,” Takeru said. “We did.” It had probably been the wrong thing to say, but Misaki found herself struggling not to smile. She wondered if Takeru was aware that he had never been more attractive. It had never properly occurred to her before that moment, but perhaps the thing she found most attractive in men had never been power. It had never been danger. It was bravery. And her husband, facing these liars in a language that was not his own, was braver than any Matsuda facing an army on the battlefield.

She got her man back 😛😛😛