Chosen by the Blade Read online

  “I understand, Governor. I will fight for Gawa with my life.”

  Sagura slapped Kenji’s back, chuckling, “That is what I like to hear, my boy! Drink!”

  Sagura poured a glass of rice wine for Kenji, thrusting it into his hand. They touched glasses and then emptied them. Sagura didn’t let them stay empty long.

  Kenji leaped out of bed, gasping for breath. He was completely soaked and chilled to the bone. As his senses came back to him, he felt water stream off of his hair and clothing. He’d barely slept three hours, and his stomach churned with Sagura’s drinks.

  His master, Ebusu, stood before him, an empty bucket in his hand.

  “Behold, the savior of Gawa.” Ebusu grinned.

  Kenji coughed up water and gasped for air, “Master . . . I don’t—”

  Before Kenji could finish speaking, Ebusu hurled the bucket at him. It hit his head with a thud and fell to the ground. Kenji stumbled back and gripped the lump forming on his head.

  “I’m sorry. Were you too tired from the banquet to train?”

  “We leave just after dawn, master. I thought there wouldn’t be training today.”

  Ebusu scoffed, “Get your sword and meet me in the courtyard.”

  His master left the hut without another word. The sun wasn’t yet illuminating the horizon, and there Kenji was, drenched in icy water with a throbbing headache. He groaned but readied himself for training. He would never deny his master.

  With heavy bags under his eyes and the taste of the banquet still on his lips, Kenji met Ebusu in the courtyard.

  “Did you already bid your mother farewell?”

  Kenji recalled the tears she shed when she left the banquet. She slept until noon most days, and Kenji knew he wouldn’t see her before the caravan left. Saske didn’t know why Kenji had to leave, but it was better that way. Their goodbye was short.

  “Yes, last night.”

  “She will be taken care of,” Ebusu said.

  The worry must have been obvious on Kenji’s face. Ever since he defeated Ren, he had wondered what would become of Saske. He didn’t need her in Tenno. He hated to admit it, but she would be a distraction.

  “You paid for a caretaker?”

  “I did.” Ebusu tossed a flask to Kenji. “Drink this.”

  The tone in Ebusu’s voice didn’t leave room for question or thanks. Kenji poured it into his mouth. It felt like water but had a bitter taste.

  “What is this?”

  “It will help you recover from the banquet. Let’s go.”

  Ebusu ran along well-worn trails in a large forest opposite the sea. Kenji loved the trails, and he knew them well. Ebusu had led him down them every day for a decade. The coastal forest was old and green. Every bit of trunk was covered in a thick moss. The air was heavy with moisture, and only bits of the sky shone through the thick canopy above.

  A bed of flowers grew up to their knees on either side of the trail, and signs of life were all around them. In the darkness of early dawn, Kenji could hear the wildlife scatter all around them.

  Every step Kenji took in the fresh air made his mind feel more awake, and his stomach calmed. Ebusu’s tonic was working. By the time they reached the training ground, Kenji almost felt normal.

  The training ground was open to all, although Kenji had only seen others there a handful of times. Today was no exception.

  They came to a manmade clearing. In the center was a raised surface. Each side was ten paces, just large enough for two people. The training grounds were a second home for Kenji.

  The pair would train for hours. Before her health deteriorated, Kenji’s mother had brought lunches for them. Some of the happiest times in Kenji’s life revolved around this very place.

  Ebusu led them through the traditional warmup practice. Kenji hadn’t realized it before, but he was stiff from his fight with Ren. He pushed the pain from his mind, focusing on Ebusu.

  The warmup consisted of controlled movements that resembled their normal practice. It was a relaxing sequence. Kenji would do it sometimes when he couldn’t sleep or if he was bored.

  Kenji and his master made their slow, smooth cuts in perfect unison. They moved across the platform with a purposeful strength. Their blades were precise and their minds were empty.

  After a few minutes, Kenji felt his muscles loosen and the spring return to his step. Ebusu gestured for Kenji to continue, and Ebusu went about cleaning his blade.

  “You let your mind become clouded against Ren,” Ebusu said, focused on his blade.

  “I know, master. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. It was your head that would have been parted from your body, not mine.”

  Kenji had nothing to say. Ebusu was right.

  “Kenji, the Tenno Tournament is real combat. Your opponents will only want one thing.” Ebusu took a deep breath. “Victory. Even if that means taking your life.”

  Kenji’s technique faltered for a moment, but he redoubled his focus and responded, “I will win for Gawa. I will win for my father.”

  Ebusu sighed. “Kenji . . .”

  Kenji bowed and ended his warmup. He looked to his master for guidance.

  “Why do you want to win?”

  Kenji’s mind raced. Wasn’t it obvious why Kenji wanted to win? It was what his father would have wanted. With the Zettai he could return Gawa to prosperity and serve the empire. Above all else, Kenji could do good with it.

  Kenji opened his mouth to speak, but Ebusu raised his hand to silence him.

  “You are an excellent swordsman, Kenji. There is no doubting that. But you are young. Everyone will want something from you.”

  Kenji recoiled from Ebusu, offended. If Ebusu hadn’t been his master, he would have responded. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and studied the old master.

  “Are you prepared to kill to win a contest, Kenji?”

  Kenji bristled at Ebusu’s question. If that was still a question, why did Ebusu let him enter the tournament? Kenji retrained his annoyance and spoke calmly.

  “My father took life in the emperor’s militia; so can I.”

  “Your father took life in a time of war, not a contest for a silly blade.”

  “Silly blade? The Zettai grants power to the wielder. With the Zettai I—” Kenji felt a righteous anger beginning to stir within.

  “That is enough, my young pupil.” Ebusu chuckled at Kenji’s passion. “Are we training our swords, or our words?”

  “We are training our swords, master.” Kenji controlled his frustration. Ebusu seemed to enjoy challenging Kenji. He always knew how to push Kenji, mentally and physically.

  Ebusu stood up, sheathing his sword, “Follow me, and try to keep up.”

  Ebusu leaped from the platform and rolled to his feet on the moss below. Kenji was confused. Where could he be going? There was nothing but dense forest beyond the training grounds.

  Ebusu slipped between the trees and vanished from sight. Kenji scrambled after him, following him into the forest. Ebusu was fast, but Kenji managed to keep him in his view.

  The old man was agile. He ducked under branches with grace and he weaved around trees that Kenji nearly slammed against as he fought to keep up. The sun broke the horizon, illuminating the dense forest. Kenji was thankful. The sun gave him a sense of direction and helped him understand where he was.

  They ran for nearly twenty minutes. Kenji hoped nothing would happen to Ebusu. Without the old man he couldn’t find his way back. Branches caught on his fraying robes, slowing him down.

  The sound of running water reached Kenji’s ears. It was faint at first, but every step he took added to its volume. It grew to a roar, and Kenji knew a waterfall must be near.

  Kenji became entranced by the sound. He ran faster, determined to find the origin. He took one last leaping bound into the thicket and smashed into an overhanging tree branch.

  He saw red for an instant, followed by green as his blurred vision returned to him. Over the dull roar of the wate
rfall, he could hear Ebusu howling with laughter. Kenji pulled himself up, gingerly rubbing his forehead. He didn’t find any blood, but it would swell, that was certain.

  “The Champion of Gawa’s only weakness: a tree,” Ebusu said through his laughter.

  Kenji gave him a smirk and started to look around. His final leap placed him in a clearing. He realized they were near a cliff, overlooking the side of the waterfall. The view was spectacular. Water cascaded down, droplets of raging water catching light at all angles.

  For a moment, Kenji imagined an endless stream of gems were pouring from the cliff, collected eagerly by the turbulent pool below. Cold, moist air swirled around him, carrying clouds like wisps of smoke.

  The air was refreshing. It gave him relief from the dense, muggy air of the forest.

  “Now, we train,” Ebusu shouted over the waterfall.

  Kenji didn’t understand him at first. The sound of crashing water flooded his ears, blocking everything else out. He looked at his master with a questioning glance just in time.

  Kenji saw the intent in Ebusu’s eyes and stepped back, narrowly dodging a cut from above. Kenji always marveled at the precision of the old man’s swings. After years of training, he knew the old man was holding back.

  Ebusu followed immediately with a horizontal cut. Kenji was able to draw his sword halfway, intercepting the attack with the exposed part of his blade. Sparks burst into the wet air, and Kenji absorbed the full power of the attack.

  Kenji kept his footing, using the momentum of Ebusu’s attack to his advantage. He shifted his body to Ebusu’s open side and fully drew his sword. He moved effortlessly from the draw to the attack.

  Ebusu parried with bold confidence, but now Kenji was prepared. They exchanged cut after cut, deflecting or dodging every attempt. Kenji couldn’t hear his breath or even his own thoughts over the waterfall. Even the clash of their curved blades was muted by the falls.

  Kenji fell into a rhythm. Block, attack, dodge, then attack again. The moment he realized he’d become predictable it was too late. Ebusu feigned a kick and instead stomped down on Kenji’s foot, pinning him in place.

  Kenji pulled against it and failed. He lost his balance and dropped his guard. The next thing Kenji was aware of was Ebusu holding his cold, wet blade to Kenji’s throat.

  “Close, but not quite.” Ebusu shouted, the intensity in his voice cutting through the crashing water.

  Kenji gave a humbled nod. He knew the words well. He heard them almost every day when training with Ebusu. They were always delivered with a twinkle of understanding that Kenji couldn’t grasp. It was like Ebusu was holding something up for Kenji to see but his eyes found nothing.

  Ebusu pulled the dull sword from Kenji’s throat. “Follow me.”

  Together, they followed the cliff away from the waterfall. Ebusu didn’t run, instead, he folded his hands behind his back, walking with reverence and precision. He carried himself as if he was on sacred ground, and Kenji did the same.

  The roar of the waterfall faded behind them, and the sun began creeping above the tree line. Ebusu stopped at another clearing, smaller than the cliff, but it offered a spectacular view of the waterfall.

  Ebusu spoke in a quiet, careful tone, “This is the last place I trained with your father, Kenji.”

  Kenji froze. He felt his mind disconnect with his body as he absorbed Ebusu’s words. He felt emotions twist inside him, fighting one another. Why hadn’t Ebusu show him this spot earlier?

  Kenji’s father didn’t have a grave. There was no place for Kenji to mourn or reflect on the loss. He had only a broken mother and his sword master for guidance. Surely, Ebusu must know that this place would have been important for him.

  “Why didn’t you show me this before?” Kenji asked through quivering lips, searching his master’s stern eyes for an answer.

  “Your father told me to share this place with you once you were ready, Kenji.”

  Kenji was speechless. His eyes watered with a feeling he couldn’t understand. He felt a closeness to his father that he’d never felt, a long-lost connection that had been there all along.

  “Thank you.”

  Without a thought, he embraced his master, burying his face into the swordsman’s chest. Ebusu returned the embrace, but only for a moment. They pulled away, and questions flooded Kenji’s mind.

  “Why did you bring my father here? Didn’t you train all the soldiers?”

  Ebusu stared into the waterfall, like it was a window to the past.

  “I did, but your father was my pupil, much like you are my pupil. He was my student from the time he could hold a stick.”

  “I had no idea. How was he?”

  Ebusu chuckled at the question, “Of course he was good. Better than you, in fact.”

  Ebusu grinned at the befuddled young swordsman beside him. Kenji was unable to discern if Ebusu was telling the truth or not, but it didn’t matter now.

  “What do you know about your father?”

  “All I know of my father is that he was proud and eager to serve the emperor. I’m sure if there’d been a Tenno Tournament while he was alive, he would have been in it as well.”

  Ebusu sighed and ran a hand over his smooth head.

  “Kenji, you need to be cautious in Tenno. You are a good man, an honorable man. I think you could become the wisest swordsman to ever wield the Zettai, but others will see your youth and morals as a weakness.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kenji admitted. How could morals be a weakness? The empire only survived through the honor of its people.

  “Many in Tenno will try to manipulate you for personal gain. You must cling to your honor and do what is right for the empire.”

  Kenji heard the words and tried to absorb them. He knew there was truth to Ebusu’s statement, but it didn’t match Kenji’s viewpoint. The words washed over him with little effect.

  “Master, may I ask a question?” Kenji paused until Ebusu gave a short nod, mildly annoyed at Kenji’s change of subject.

  “Would you fight for the blade?”

  Ebusu inhaled through his nose and exhaled a deep, sighing breath. He looked down at the river and thought. His eyes fluttered over the water, aimless and distracted. He was silent for some time.

  “No.”

  “No? Why not?” Kenji wasn’t expecting such a straightforward answer.

  “I think you are what the empire needs, not an old, war-torn swordsman like myself. Besides, I retired from the nonsense at the capital years ago.” Ebusu waved a dismissive hand.

  Kenji rolled the words over in his mind, searching for meaning. He was what the empire needed? It was a compliment, but he struggled to take meaning from it. Kenji took a deep breath and spoke. “I will win the Zettai for you, the empire, and the memory of my father.”

  Even as the words left Kenji’s lips they felt dramatic. He didn’t mind, though; it was what he believed and he wouldn’t take it back.

  Ebusu let out a grumble of acknowledgment. “I know.”

  The two generations of warriors grabbed their gear and made their way back to town and to their departure point.

  “You were supposed to be here hours ago!” Sagura’s eyes bulged from his face, and his skin had a strained, reddish hue.

  Sagura stood in front of a five-cart caravan, ready to travel to Tenno. People were mulling about, bored and impatient.

  “Governor, surely you want Gawa’s champion to be well trained?” Ebusu responded with a casual amusement.

  “Well trained? He has been training all his life! You couldn’t skip one day?”

  “Victors don’t skip one day.”

  Ebusu patted Sagura on the shoulder, winked at Kenji, and climbed up the side of a cart.

  “It is good to be back on the road with you, governor. It has been too long,” Ebusu said.

  Sagura watched in agitation as Ebusu sat down and waited to begin the journey. Sagura looked to Kenji for more of an explanation, but Kenji shrugged and followed
his master onto the cart.

  Chapter 3

  The caravan ride went by slowly. Ten days of twisting dirt roads proved a monotonous ride. Kenji’s nerves didn’t help, either. When he wasn’t training with Ebusu in the dawn hours, he was dwelling on the tournament ahead of him.

  The caravan moved a little faster than a walk. It was frustrating. They made camp at sunset and took a leisurely pace after setting off at sunrise. Eventually Kenji just accepted the pace and allowed himself to relax. Nothing he could do would speed it up.

  Their caravan consisted of Sagura, several of his higher-ranked officials, and a dozen Gawan soldiers. The officials rarely left their plush carriages, but the soldiers milled about.

  Kenji watched Sagura closely at first. He was curious to see how the opulent governor would carry himself on the road. For the first day or two, Sagura rarely left his cart.

  Day after day, though, Kenji saw Sagura more. His stiff, polite demeanor faded a little. He even rode horseback next to Ebusu on a few occasions, the two men telling stories to each other that Kenji wished he could hear. It was as if the road peeled back the layers of Sagura, revealing the man he once was.

  Kenji watched the soldiers intently, too. He wondered if any of them answered to Ren. Ren was a captain in Gawa, surely someone must know him.

  His suspicion was confirmed by the long, questioning smirks he received from the men as time went on.

  And so, Kenji spent most of the journey lying on his back on top of one of the carts. He watched clouds float by and wondered what it would be like to have no purpose or direction, suspended in the sky.

  In his daydreams he imagined himself wielding the legendary Zettai blade, serving the emperor proudly. His nerves mingled with excitement as he imagined both extremes of possibility: death or victory.

  He hated to admit it, but he had never been happier in his life. Using nothing but his sword, he would have the chance to win the Zettai. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but it was much more pleasant to picture victory. Ebusu would scoff if he could see the fantasy land that Kenji spent his days in.

  Kenji knew he was good with a sword. He trained in it every day. Ebusu was respected around the land for his skill in teaching. Up until the Gawan tournament, Kenji hadn’t known just how good he was. None of that mattered, though. The Tenno Tournament would be substantially harder.