Shigeru awoke with a start, sweat pouring down his forehead. For just a moment, his memories of the dream, of the horror he had been forced not just to witness but to participate in, were as vivid as the barren wall in front of him. Then reality reasserted its dominance in his mind, and he was in the present moment, sweating and cold because he had thrown off the only covers that protected him from the winter’s morning chill. He shook his head, trying to clear the remaining fog from his thoughts.
Outside, he could hear songbirds chirping in the background, their peaceful songs a stark contrast to the violence of his nightmares. He listened to them sing. There were at least three of them singing to one another. He wondered, just for a breath, what they were saying. For all his knowledge, there was still much to learn.
His reverie was broken by a shiver running through his body. It was a cold morning, and the fire he had tended the evening before was burning its last breath. He roused himself from bed to get wood near the door and brought it towards the last few embers. With some patience he was able to get the fire burning once again, and he could feel the warmth of it seeping through his body as it filled the room with heat.
He gave himself a moment to warm up before starting his morning routine. The sun hadn’t quite managed to peek above the trees that surrounded his hut, but he could tell from the pale colors to the East it wouldn’t be long before the sun woke the earth from its slumber. He thought back to his nightmares, nightmares woven permanently into the fabric of his memory. They were always the same. Her face, surprised, hurt, and afraid. It was her true face, of that he was sure. It had been twelve cycles since that night, and while he couldn’t easily recall her face in his waking hours, his dreaming mind wouldn’t let him forget even the most subtle curve of her lips. He wished, not for the first time, that his dreams would someday bring him visions of her in a different setting.
The dream always ended with blood. She knew, in the way that everyone knows in their final moments, that she was dying. You could see it on her face as she looked at the blood. In his dreams, the blood is almost as black as the night, but laced with silver light. When he was younger, Shigeru had tried to find meaning in that silver light, but after twelve cycles of the same nightmare, he was convinced there wasn’t any meaning in his dreams. He wasn’t sure there was a meaning to anything.
Regardless, he had always been attached to routine, and that routine had become everything to him in exile. He moved to the north wall of his hut where he had built a small shrine by hand. On the shrine were tiny, hand-carved figures. They were poorly done, but they had been made some time ago. One was to represent her. The other was a small wheel. It represented the Great Cycle, the force that was supposed to govern all their lives. They were the only two images on his shrine, barren by the standards of the day. He sometimes considered carving more, but everything else felt empty, meaningless.
Holding one figure in each hand, Shigeru sat down to meditate. It was the meditation of one of his order, deep and focused on the breath. Breath was life. The lack of breath was death. He inhaled, feeling life and air spread through his body, feeding it and healing it. He paused when his chest was full, feeling the fullness of life. Then he breathed out, expelling what was old so that the new could return. When he was empty, he paused, for this step was the most meaningful. It was the moment the body had no breath. It was a waking death. He held the moment closely before breathing in again and letting the air fill his chest.
Shigeru didn’t know how much time had passed when he finished his meditations. He meditated for as long as he felt like. Some days it was only a handful of breath cycles. Sometimes the sun would be high in the sky by the time he finished. Time held little meaning for him in his current life.
He stood and inhaled deeply. Glancing outside, he saw the sun was almost a quarter of the way through the sky. Shigeru put on his sandals and weapons and went outside, taking a moment to drink in the quiet serenity of the trees which surrounded his hut. He drew his blade and held it in front of him. He held it completely still, its well-polished surface reflecting and focusing the light of the sun. After all this time, he still felt most comfortable with a blade in his hand. He felt alive, as though the rest of his waking life was just smoke and shadows.
Shigeru took one final breath, centering himself as he moved into his first stance. For the beat of a heart, all was still. Then Shigeru slid into motion, liquid death that flowed through his body and blade. Every moment he focused on each move, knowing that at that moment, that single cut was all that mattered. It was the focus that had made him one of the most promising swordsmen of his generation. His blade glinted and danced in the mid-morning sun and sliced frictionless through the cold, still air.
Again, Shigeru lost track of time as his blade danced through the same movements he had practiced since he was a child. There was only blade and body, steel and soul. When he finished, a thin layer of sweat covered his body, quickly chilling in the air that bit at his skin. With a final smooth motion, Shigeru sheathed his blade and walked back into the warmth of his hut.
After a light lunch it was time for training his other gifts. Shigeru built the fire up again, not as high as in the morning, but enough to keep the hut warm for the afternoon. He tore the cloak off his shoulders and sat down cross-legged in only his lightest robes, his chest and heart open to the air of the hut. He closed his eyes and focused himself, taking a breath to find his center.
A hint of a smile flickered across his face as he expanded his awareness, using the ability of the sense which had been lost to so many. He felt the birds that stood in the trees singing their songs to one another. He pushed his awareness out further, sensing the quiet presence of the trees against the background of his consciousness. As his awareness expanded, he would sometimes try to pick out a detail, a burrowing animal or the soft movement of a squirrel in the shallow snow. But always he continued to push. He kept pushing until he couldn’t push any further. It was as though he had been carrying a rock for many leagues and was unable to take another step, except here, it was all in his mind.
He allowed his awareness to retreat, just a little, and found a detail to focus on, a bird maybe three hundred paces away. He put all his focus on the bird, aware not just of its movements but of his own breath and the sweat that dripped from his brow. When he was sure he held complete focus on the bird, he pushed his awareness further, but hit the same wall.
Frustrated, he snapped the sense back to his own body once again, returning with just a hint of a shock to his own surroundings once again. But in the moment his awareness returned, he felt something tug against his sense, like sand shifting just below the surface of his reality, pulling him along with it. He frowned, wondering if he had imagined it or if it was real. Shigeru found his center and pushed out his sense once again, but felt nothing he hadn’t sensed before. He snapped his sense back again, but there wasn’t a similar reaction. He shook his head and put the sensation aside. Perhaps it was something, perhaps not, but it wasn’t worth his worry. He stood up, done with training, and continued his day.
The next morning’s routine was like any other, but Shigeru felt a growing sense of unease. The nightmare had come again last night, and although he acknowledged it could just be his imagination, it felt more vivid and more real than it ever had. It seemed more vision than dream, but he wasn’t a man who put much stock in the realm of the mystics. He touched the Great Cycle every day, and he was convinced there wasn’t anything mystical about it. It just was an aspect of reality most people couldn’t experience.
But he was still uncomfortable. The dream had never come two nights in a row before, and although the sun was shining and the birds singing, he felt darkness overcoming his heart.
In an attempt to purge himself of whatever was bothering him, he decided to spend the day down in a nearby village. It wouldn't take him more than a quarter of the day to walk there. It would mean a later night for him, but maybe a slight disruption of his routine was just what he needed. Shouldering a pack of herbs and medicines, he set off through a forest which had no trails, winding his way towards the village through instinct and memory alone.
As he walked, he let his sense expand, studying the forest as though he walked through it for the first time. When he had been younger it had been one of his first lessons, and one that stuck with him even now, over twenty cycles later. He had been taught that there were multiple levels of awareness. Most people walked through life completely unaware of their surroundings. They wouldn’t know if a charging bear was tearing through the woods right in front of them.
A step better than that was a relaxed awareness, the state he was walking around in now. He knew everything happening around him, but it was sustainable, taking up only a fraction of his attention. Finally, there was a complete awareness, using the sense to know everything happening within several hundred paces. Most people weren’t even capable of such a feat, and even he could only reach the state through focused meditation.
Shigeru’s path didn’t lead directly to the village. After all these cycles, he didn’t know if they were still after his head, but he had found a place worth calling home, and he didn’t feel any need to let others know where it was. Every time he approached the village from a different direction in the guise of a wandering doctor. The villagers, simple in their beliefs, didn’t ever even assume he might live somewhere near.
As he approached the village, he took notice of a sensation that had flirted with the edges of his awareness for some time. Every time he tried to focus on it, it slipped away from him like an eel. It was only when he allowed himself to relax and open up his sense that it became more clear to him. Everything, all the energy he could sense, seemed to run in the same direction. He frowned. It felt almost like he had become immersed in a river of shadows, a flow of energy he couldn’t quite focus on.
When he had been young, he had known people who could use their sense for hundreds of leagues. They claimed it was like submerging themselves in a river and letting the current carry them. Shigeru had tried on his own to discover how they did it, but had never known success. Was it coming to him now?
His reverie was interrupted by the sense of a child ahead of him. He could tell the child had already heard him coming. Shigeru had felt this young man’s energy before. He was a disruptive boy, causing no end of heartache to his mother. Shigeru had often been tempted to teach him a lesson, but it seemed out of place in his guise as a caring doctor.
He felt the rock coming at him and stopped walking. The rock passed a pace in front of his face, exactly where he would have been had he continued. He pretended to jump at the disturbance and heard the child take off through the woods, the soft sound of retreating laughter quickly swallowed up by the trees. Shigeru shook his head. He would have to tell the child’s mother and let her know what had happened. She wouldn’t be happy, but maybe she could find an appropriate punishment.
When he stepped out of the woods there were already people there to greet him. The child had clearly announced his arrival. He came first to an older lady, one of the matriarchs of the small village.
“Good morning, Master. It is good you are here. We have several who are sick and injured and in need of your care.”
Shigeru smiled. He had started this work as a penance, but it had become more than that to him over the cycles. He had come to care for those in this village and in the others in the surrounding area. They were kind to him and treated him with respect. It was more than he deserved after his crime.
“I'm happy to help. It is good to see you.”
Shigeru extended his hand and slipped a small packet of leaves into the woman’s hands. She nodded gratefully at him. She had lived a long life of hard labor in the fields with her husband, and the cycles were catching up to her. Shigeru’s mixture provided relief from the aches and pains while leaving her alert. It allowed her to focus more on trying to manage the village. It was unusual for a woman to run a village, which spoke highly of her abilities to keep the village’s interests moving forward. He was very impressed by her.
The first patient he was brought to was a young man who had broken his arm. Shigeru examined it quickly and saw it had been left alone since the break. In time it would become permanently deformed. Despite the pleas of the young man, Shigeru set the bone correctly, and when the boy was done crying in pain, showed him how to ensure that it healed properly. He wished that his skills were greater, but it was all he could do.
The rest of the afternoon passed faster than Shigeru believed possible. Some illnesses he was able to treat with the remedies he had harvested from the woods. Some he gave the best advice that he knew. For one young man the treatment was beyond him. He gave what suggestions he could, but it felt inadequate against the sickness in the man. Shigeru feared that the next time he visited the village it would be one person less.
Despite his misgivings, the villagers sent him on his way with more goods than he could use. He was grateful for some of them, ingredients and goods he had a hard time creating on his own. To the local villagers he was considered the best doctor in the area and more than once he had had to deflect questions on where he had learned his trade. Where he had grown up his knowledge was commonplace and rudimentary, but here it was a skill bordering on the magical. There were others, he knew, who could make his acts of kindness seem pitiful, but they weren’t to be found in this land, and every cycle it seemed less and less likely that they would ever return.
Shigeru left with a spring in his step even though the sun was already below the level of the trees. He glanced up at the cloudy sky and knew he would have a dark walk home without even the light of the moons to guide him. He had turned down numerous offers of shelter for the evening. Even though many cycles had passed, he didn’t feel comfortable falling asleep in a populated area.
In the pitch darkness of the night he relied more on the sense to get him through the woods, helping him pick out trees and obstacles in his way. Anyone watching would have sworn that he could see without light, unable to understand the truth of his abilities.
Step by step, Shigeru lost himself in the paths of the woods. Shigeru pitied those who had never been in the woods at night, who had never felt with the sense the way life came awake when the sun set. Countless animals called back and forth to one another, each call as familiar to Shigeru as the voice of a friend. He allowed himself to drift further into the realm of the sense, gradually losing himself in the flows of life that surrounded him.
Then everything shifted underneath him. Shigeru had felt something like it only once before when he had stood on the shore of an ocean, his bare feet in the beach. He didn’t care to remember the moment, but he remembered the way the waves tugged at his ankles as they receded back into the ocean. This was the same, the sensation of being pulled away by a force so much larger than him.
But the ground underneath him was as solid as it had ever been. He dropped to his hands and knees, searching desperately for answers, but as he let the power of his sense diminish the feeling subsided. Shigeru waited on his knees for a moment, letting the feeling pass completely as vomit threatened to come up his throat.
He had experienced nothing like it before, nor had he heard any stories from his elders about it when he had been growing up. His mind groped for answers, but nothing was forthcoming. The feeling passed, and eventually Shigeru stood up and continued his walk home, this time picking his way forward using only the five senses everyone was gifted with. As he walked, the only fact that his wandering mind could focus on was that the pull had been in the same direction he had felt earlier.
The sun rose far too early for Shigeru’s desires the next morning. He had spent most of the evening attempting to figure out what had happened yesterday. When exhaustion finally overcame curiosity, his nightmare was so vivid that he woke up with a blade in his hand. He hadn’t tried to fall back to sleep, seeing the sun already rising. There was a small pond at the base of a little waterfall a couple of hundred paces way from his hut, and despite the chill of the season, his weary body rejoiced at the jump into the freezing water.
When he got out he wasn’t feeling rejuvenated, but he felt like he could bring some new energy to his problem. He went through the rest of his morning routine, finishing with a full breakfast. With the food he had gotten from the villagers he would have plenty to eat for some time. Generally, he subsisted on a basic diet. His stomach was warm and content, pleased with the new, richer fare.
After breakfast, Shigeru stoked the fire in his hut and sat down to meditate. After he focused his breath and his mind he expanded his awareness, pushing out his sense for the first time since he had been in the woods the night before. The nausea and the feeling of being pulled by the ocean gradually returned, and Shigeru snapped out of his meditation. Was he sick? He had never heard of anything like this, but he knew there was much he didn't know.
A tiny amount of fear crept into his heart. Although he had escaped his upbringing long ago, his ability with the sense still defined who he was. Without it, what good was he?
The only way to find out was to push forward.
He closed his eyes again and cast out his sense, and again the disorientation, the pull came back to him. This time, he didn’t fight it. Instead of trying to hold on and stay centered, he simply let go. As soon as he did, the nausea, as well as many of his other sensations, disappeared. If this was an aspect of the sense, it wasn’t one he was used to. Everything was dark, but though he had no reference points, he still felt like he was being tumbled over and over.
Then flashes of color, images. He was closer to the ground, looking up at others. Glimpses of crowded streets, masses of humanity huddled together in a city, clinging desperately together for warmth. Then Shigeru was ejected, his eyes open staring at the shrine of the Great Cycle in his own hut.
Shigeru could identify the location. He recognized some of the places he had seen, brief as the look had been. It had been in New Haven, the largest city in the Southern Kingdom. Shigeru went there, occasionally. Had he seen the sight of some young man or woman, or a cripple who couldn’t stand? There wasn’t enough for Shigeru to know. He sighed and relaxed his body, letting his gaze drink in the dancing fire in front of him.
Shigeru didn't consider himself superstitious, but what he was experiencing was beyond his knowledge. Some of his old masters had spoken of the sense as though it were a living creature, but Shigeru had never believed it. The sense had no will of its own, it was just an aspect of reality that most people in this kingdom could no longer touch. On the other hand, his use of the sense was affected by something, and he needed the sense as much as he needed air to breathe. Perhaps the only way to solve the problem was to follow these sensations wherever they led.
The part of him that craved routine and order fought back. He had nothing to go on but a strange feeling. He was tired and stressed. Perhaps it was the nightmares that were getting to him. What he needed was a good night’s sleep. He resolved that it would be so. He had just the mixture that would put him to sleep easily.
The rest of that day Shigeru was as active as he could be. He chopped wood and did an extra training session with his blade, polished steel slicing through the hours of dusk. When at last evening came Shigeru mixed the most potent concoction he could come up with to help him sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open to begin with. Once he swallowed the bitter mixture, he lied down and was asleep before he knew it.
She came to him as vivid as he had ever seen her. Blood dripping down her chest, his red blade held helplessly in his hands. She reached out to him and he woke up, sweating. Instinctively, he threw out his sense and the feeling of vertigo filled him from head to toe. He kept himself from throwing up, barely. He shook his head, panting as though he was trying to catch his breath. Something had to change. Tomorrow he would leave for New Haven.
The next morning dawned cold and bright, the sunlight reflecting more brightly off the snow than it shone in the sky. As Shigeru went through his morning exercises, he had a light black scarf wrapped around his face to protect his eyes from the brightness.
His morning exercises grounded him, made him feel like he was still at the center of his existence. There wasn’t any immediate need for them, but he felt that if he didn’t exercise, he would be swept up in the current of life, directionless, rudderless. He packed what he needed for a journey, although it wasn’t much. The land would be rich in small game, even now in the winter. If his sense was still worth anything, he shouldn’t have much problem feeding himself. He brought rice and some items the villagers had given him that would perish in a few days.
Shigeru poured water from the pond on top of the fire to put it completely out. He had built this hut when he had first discovered the area. He had loved the location. It was far enough away it wasn’t easily discoverable by anyone. The forest was also known locally to be haunted, a belief he only helped to encourage. No one came this way, not through the old woods.
In a few more cycles, the hut would be the place he had lived the longest. It was more of a home than he had possibly ever had, and he didn't leave it often.
A dark mood settled over him as he left the hut. If asked to explain, he still wasn’t sure he could put into words why he felt he had to do what he was about to do. He couldn’t even explain what he was supposed to do. His only plan was to walk to New Haven, opening his sense along the way, and see what would happen. He didn’t know what, if anything, would follow.
Fortunately, the sun and the weather were bright enough to burn the sadness from his mind. The old woods were alive today in the cold, sunny weather, and Shigeru’s steady, fast walk wore away the leagues under his feet. The fresh air burned in his lungs, and he felt more alive than he had in quite some time. It was, perhaps, a good reminder there was more to life than hiding and staying alive.
He decided to spend the first night away from the hut at the edge of the new woods. He had passed out of the old woods some time ago. The trees here were younger, less wise than their neighbors to the West. From here out it would be mostly prairie.
That night, Shigeru lay down near a small fire, well concealed from the outside world. It was unusual, being afraid to use the sense. Most days using his gift felt like the most natural action he could take. It had never caused illness or vertigo. He needed his sense, needed the confidence it provided.
He allowed his sense to expand, slowly. Perhaps he should have done this before he left, but now was as good a time as any. He needed to find the limits of his ability. He opened his mind to the sense and pushed outwards, feeling the vertigo gradually return. When it became too much, he brought his sense back. He tested different ways of expanding his sense, discovering what worked and what failed.
He didn’t know how long it took, but the moon was high in the sky by the time he was done. The feeling of vertigo hadn’t left him, but he had learned how to control it. The strongest warrior wasn’t always the best. Often the warrior who lived the longest was the one whose mind was most able to adopt to new circumstances.
Before he fell asleep, he practiced throwing out his sense once again, as quickly as he’d have to in combat. It came back to him without a hitch. There was some slight queasiness, but it was immediately erased by the knowledge that he could still be fully in touch with the world he had come to know so well.
Shigeru awoke to a dead fire and a nightmare that felt more real every time he dreamed it. He could have sworn he relived that night over and over.
Shaking the fog from his mind, he meditated and went through his morning routines. Even out here in the wild, they calmed and centered him. They made him feel like he still had control over his life. For that, he was grateful. Refreshed, and in good spirits from his rediscovered ability to use the sense, Shigeru packed up camp and was off again at a steady trot.
As Shigeru continued towards New Haven he lost the cover and protection of the forests he called home. He had moved into the plains which were the hallmark of this region of the Southern Kingdom. He felt exposed, but delighted at the distant horizons. Sometimes he climbed trees near his hut so he could see out into the horizon, but it was different feeling to be at ground level and see forever. It was remarkable to have so much space with so little in it.
He was grateful for the use of the sense. Cautious as he was, it wasn’t hard for him to imagine someone hiding in the tall grass, being able to see him coming from leagues away. Although his sense didn’t extend very far under his current limitations, he knew at least that there wasn’t anyone within bow shot.
Shigeru’s steady pace ate up the distance. It would be too much to say he had a plan. He would just follow his sense. For now, he walked towards New Haven. There were well-used trails and roads that led to there, but Shigeru wasn’t interested in them. He craved secrecy more than convenience.
It was mid-afternoon, but Shigeru had lost track of time, or wasn’t aware of it in the same way he usually was. The plains had a way of soothing the mind, the calm monotony of unbroken, rolling ground relaxing any fears he had, any questions he would have asked. It was a cloudy but calm day, the grays of the clouds blending imperceptibly with the snowy whiteness of the plains.
He first noticed the smoke. It was a darker smoke, which at first had blended with the clouds. As his mind focused, he recognized it for what it was. The smoke was from a fire, a big one. Shigeru cursed to himself as he came down into a crouch. He had lost full awareness of his surroundings. He should have noticed that smoke a long time ago, but instead he was less than a league away from it.
Shigeru threw out his sense but couldn't discover anything, stopping before he threw up. He felt the now familiar nausea fade away as he restrained his sense.
Shigeru's mind focused on his training as a young man. He had known masters who could throw out their sense for hundreds of leagues. He wondered if, by accident, he was picking up on some of that skill, and his lack of training made him nauseous. Right now, all he wanted to know was what was happening in front of him.
Angry, he pushed the thoughts out of his mind. There was a fire, and it was directly in the way he had felt pulled towards. Was this where he was supposed to be? His mind circled the same questions round and round, but no answers were forthcoming. Lacking direction, Shigeru moved forward until he could get to a place where he could sense what was happening.
Shigeru jogged on for almost half a league, getting within a couple of thousand paces of the fire, which seemed to grow as he approached it. Now, all his senses were alert, but still he paused to extend his sense. It was difficult with the energy pulling his mind whenever he gave it any chance, but he was able to get bits and pieces of information.
He guessed that it was a farmstead. There were several people concentrated together, but the area was too large to be a caravan. That many people in that wide of a space, here in the prairie? It was almost certainly a farm.
He couldn’t hear any shouts or screams, any sounds of life which would have indicated a family fighting a fire. Whatever was happening, Shigeru had a horrible feeling about it. His sense wasn’t good enough to tell if there was violence involved, though, so he couldn't be sure.
Shigeru thought the problem through. Although he believed in the power of violence, he had little desire to draw his blade against another. Ever since he had escaped, he had managed not to harm another person. If he involved himself at all, he risked breaking that streak. He knew, better than most, that even the best intentions could lead to the worst results.
He decided to walk around the fire. His vision had been of New Haven, and this farmstead was not it. Better to remain separate from the world's problems.
With his heart heavy but his mind clear, Shigeru made the loop around the fire. When he was clear on the other side, he extended his sense far enough for the nausea to return. It still felt as though he was being pulled towards the Northeast. It was enough for him. He was still safe, his streak of nonviolence unbroken. He extended his sense towards the smoke, but he couldn’t make out any life any more. It was unfortunate, but he said a short prayer for the farmers who rejoined the Great Cycle.
That night Shigeru camped out on the open plain. It was cold enough that he needed a fire, even though he regretted the necessity. He hadn’t brought any shelter besides some heavy furs, so he had nothing with which to block the light from any eyes that may be on the lookout. But he needed warmth. The wind was picking up, and with no trees to stop it, it pierced through his clothing like needles to his bones.
He slept fitfully that night, his usual nightmares interspersed with visions of fire.
It wasn’t his nightmares that woke him. It was his sense. He awoke without moving, grateful for the many cycles of training he had gone through that had granted him the hard-won ability to use the sense while sleeping. There were four of them, out there in the dark, about two dozen paces away. They were in a rough semicircle, approaching the fire cautiously.
Shigeru figured they could see him. He rolled over onto his side, eyes closed, maintaining the illusion of sleep. He rolled on top of his sword and grasped the hilt, drawing it just a little to ensure it hadn’t become stuck to the scabbard in the cold. It slid smoothly.
His mind raced. He didn’t want to fight. Maybe, he thought, they were just people from the farmstead who were trying to find warmth and shelter after the disaster. But he knew he was lying to himself. The sense didn't allow him to read minds, though the myth had been perpetrated in folklore. But people with benevolent intent moved differently than people with violence in their heart. The four people who were approaching moved as though they would be happy to stab him in his sleep.
Shigeru’s suspicion was confirmed when all four men drew blades. Shigeru’s breath calmed to a steady cadence, his mind and sense more focused than they had been in many cycles. As the men stepped closer, Shigeru debated whether to draw his sword. He could just let it end here. Sure, he had escaped and had lived many more cycles than he had ever expected to, but what was he doing with them? He wouldn’t even stop to help a farm in crisis.
Ultimately, his self-preservation instinct was too strong. Although he hated himself, he wasn't ready to die.
When they were three paces away, Shigeru burst from his furs with all the pent-up energy and anger he had accumulated over the cycles. His elbow found one man’s throat while his foot found the chest of a second. He moved with all the speed he was capable of. He needed the element of surprise. The third man almost got his sword out in front of him before Shigeru’s fist found his face, leaving it much the worse for wear. The fourth man, having a moment to react, cut wildly at Shigeru.
Shigeru caught the man’s wrists as he tried to cut down, shifting the man’s momentum to throw him four paces away. Then he stood back while the men collected themselves and recovered from their beating.
“Leave now and no more harm will come to you.”
Despite the pain in his chest, the man Shigeru had kicked laughed. “There’s four of us and one of you.”
Shigeru gave him a level gaze. It wasn’t in his nature to boast or brag about his abilities, but he didn’t want to draw his blade.
“It hasn't mattered so far. It won't later. Leave, now, please.”
The men misinterpreted the hint of a plea in Shigeru’s request. They saw a man afraid to die, not the man who didn't want to kill. Shigeru’s perceived weakness gave them strength, and all four attacked as one, swords drawn.
Reason departed, and instinct and training took over. Shigeru’s sense felt each cut, knew exactly where each blade would be. He drew his sword smoothly, the moment itself meaningless. He slid between his attackers’ blades, his cuts quick and true. It was over in less time than they had spent speaking to each other, four men bleeding to death on the ground, red blood turning brown in the snow.
Shigeru wiped his blade clean on the furs of one of the dying men. Then he carefully sheathed his blade. Only when he heard the click of the blade in the scabbard did the enormity of his actions strike him. It had been so many cycles since he had killed. So many cycles since he had told himself he wouldn't kill, his words shattered without meaning against four men who he had never met before. Violence was always pointless. He felt like throwing up, a sensation he was becoming all too familiar with.
The current was still there, pulling against his mind and his sanity. As the last of them gasped his final ragged breath, Shigeru knelt there, hoping his sensations would disappear. But his hopes were in vain.
No more meaningless slaughter. He turned around and stumbled back the way that he had come, back towards the hut which had sheltered him in isolation for cycles. Nausea overwhelmed him, and he threw up violently. He didn’t think he had eaten much, but his stomach seemed intent on telling him otherwise. When he was done, he felt empty and hollow inside, but further steps towards the South threatened further vomiting.
What was happening to him? Was he losing his hold on sanity? He felt as though his decisions were being torn from him. He turned back towards the Northeast, but even as he walked through the stained snow, his stomach was calm. What did his body recognize that he didn’t? His only relief seemed to be in continuing to move, so he did, kicking snow on the fire as he walked away into the bitter cold of the early morning.
The morning sun rose, promising a warmth that never seemed to reach down through Shigeru’s furs. He wasn’t gifted in reading the environment the way that some of his kind were, but he could feel that there was a storm coming on, and a major one at that. It would bring visibility down to nothing and destroy one’s sense of direction on these featureless plains.
Almost as soon as the sun was clear above the horizon it was swallowed up by gray clouds that carried the blizzard. Shigeru considered trying to stop and wait out the blizzard, but the idea churned his stomach. No, he needed to keep walking, whether it was his desire or not. There was something out there that drew him towards it, slowly but inexorably.
It wasn’t long before the blizzard swallowed him whole. Within moments, he went from being able to see to the horizon to being able to see just a few dozen paces in front of him. The wind tore through his heavy furs like they were rags, numbing flesh and bone alike. Shigeru plodded onward, his trot slowed down to one step at a time, the snow piling up against his shins, arresting his movement.
In the blizzard, Shigeru lost track of time. There was no sun, no features he could use to determine how much of the day had passed. Even his sense of direction became confused. If not for the current of the sense pulling at him, he would have lost himself completely. He had no idea how long he had been walking when he felt another party near him. He squelched his initial instinct to drop to the ground. They were hundreds of paces away. In this weather they had no chance of seeing him, and if he dropped to the ground he would stop moving, the most dangerous action he could take in the tempest.
His sense of them was indistinct at this distance, a splotch of energy on an otherwise barren landscape. He decided to approach them. He wasn’t afraid to admit the weather was scaring him. Storms such as this, out on the open plains, took more lives for the Great Cycle than they spared. He hadn’t come equipped for safe traveling in storms such as these. He was wary because of the bandits he had killed earlier, but the risk was well worth the potential benefit of shelter this evening.
Walking closer, his sense of them became more defined, and a more clear picture emerged. The group wasn’t moving, which Shigeru took to be a good sign. It meant they had shelter. Most of the energy seemed strong, which meant they weren’t suffering. There were two or three of them who were weak, but not dangerously so. Shigeru counted almost twenty people in the group. It was a larger group than he felt comfortable approaching, but the storm forced his hand.
Shigeru moved in and soon noticed discrepancies in his original assessment of the group. Shigeru closed his eyes to focus. One individual was choking another and one was violently lying on top of another.
A story came together in Shigeru’s mind. The farmstead on fire had been the victim of a large group of bandits. They had killed most, if not all, the men. They had taken what they could and taken the women with them. The bandits he had killed last night had probably been a rear guard he had just happened to cross. He didn't have much evidence, but the story felt right to him.
Shigeru was surprised by how much he didn’t care about the plight of the women. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He had only slept for a little while, and had been on his feet for the past two days, moving quickly. He didn’t want to fight. All he wanted was to figure out what was happening to him and go back to his hut.
Shigeru focused his sense a little further. He was getting closer to whatever was causing the sensations which drove him, but it wasn’t emanating from this group of people. He could pass by them. In this blizzard, he could probably walk straight through their camp without being noticed. Shigeru didn’t need to risk it. He turned off to the side, resigning himself to an endless trudge in the blizzard.
Memories came unbidden to his mind. It was a memory he hadn’t dredged up in many, many cycles. The face was eternally old, but held a mischievous grin to it. “So, Shigeru, tell me, what is the purpose of a sword?”
Shigeru remembered his confusion all too well. Whenever the old man asked a question, there was always another unspoken one behind it he didn’t comprehend. He hadn’t seen more than five or six cycles by this time, but he had understood that lesson quickly enough.
He had thought hard and replied. “A sword protects the innocent and brings justice to the land.” He had been proud of himself. It was word-for-word what he had learned in one of his classes. He was sure his master would approve.
The old man smiled. “That is very noble, Shigeru, but it is not true. Think hard. What do you do with a sword?"
Shigeru had shaken his head. He was sure he had given the right answer.
The old man continued, " A sword is a tool that only has one purpose, and that purpose is to kill. Do you understand?”
He had nodded, even though it had been a lie.
“It would be easy for us to say, ‘I killed a man to protect another,’ and sometimes, that is true. But we must always know what we do. When you earn your sword, it means that you will be baptized into the art of killing, of which there is nothing noble. It is the worst and most necessary task another person can carry out. It is up to you to make those deaths meaningful.”
Of course, he hadn’t understood at the time, but he had learned his lesson well, much better than any of the other students. He had killed, and though his strike had been full of the best intentions, it was the most horrible sin he had ever committed. For many cycles he had thought he had been wrong, that he shouldn’t have struck.
But then a voice carried on the wind, a scream that pierced him more deeply than any arrow could have. It was a voice from his dreams. Her voice. It shattered the armor he held over his mind, and he felt the old anger, the anger that brought death, come back to him. He hadn’t been wrong. But the right action wasn’t always rewarded. It was as straightforward as that.
It felt as though the sun had pierced through the clouds and struck his heart directly. For all this time, he thought he had been wrong in his actions, but that wasn't true. He had done the right thing.
Suddenly, he felt horrible for not helping the farmers. He had become so self-centered his life had become meaningless.
No more.
Cleansed of doubt, Shigeru turned back to the group of bandits and women. His sword and heart were clean.
The wind and snow bit at his exposed face as he approached the tents. When he was about thirty paces away, the blizzard cleared for just a moment and the protective shield of snow dropped from in front of him. There were two sentries who saw him coming at almost the same time, shouting a warning to the others. Shigeru fingered the throwing knives concealed at his hip. He held back. The damage had already been done. He would give them one last chance to leave the women alone.
This close, his sense lit up, and the world was his. There were twelve bandits and six women. The women weren’t doing well. Shigeru could feel their life energy fading. His anger threatened to overwhelm him, but a deep breath kept it contained in his stomach, fueling his own energy.
All twelve bandits came out of the tents, several of them pulling up their pants as they came out to see what the commotion was about. Shigeru identified the leader without a problem. He moved with a swagger the rest didn’t have. Shigeru swore that if he drew his sword, this man would die last, and slowly.
The leader spoke. He was tall, standing at least a head and a half over Shigeru. He was well muscled and moved with a cat-like grace. He was probably a swordsman of no small skill. Not that it mattered. None of them had ever seen anything like the dance of his own blade. Such a thing didn’t exist in this land anymore. It would spin and cut and take life more effectively than any of them could imagine.
“My friend, have you come to seek shelter from the storm?” The leader’s words were practically dripping with sarcasm.
“Release the women. Give them all your supplies and leave.”
The men, now arranged in a rough semicircle around him, all laughed. One random bandit spoke. “You want all of us to give up all our supplies and brave the most dangerous storm of the season just because you told us to?”
The leader took a step forward. “I’ll give you this, you’ve got courage. Stupid as can be, but you’ve got courage.”
Just then one of the women stuck her head out of the tent to see what was happening. Shigeru cursed as the leader bent down and dragged her to her feet by her hair. He put his short sword to her neck. “How about we try this instead? You take off all your clothes and piss in the snow. Then, you’re going to eat the snow you pissed on and do a short dance for us. Otherwise, I’ll slit her throat right now.”
The woman was older, maybe having seen forty cycles. She had been a fool to stick her head out. Shigeru fingered the knives on his hip, but he could see the leader had seen the movement and tightened his grip on the woman’s neck. He might get the knife off, but the woman was dead. He had to act if he wanted to save the others.
Shigeru spoke one last time. “No. This is your last chance.”
The leader shook his head and drew the blade across the woman’s neck. Shigeru’s gaze didn’t flinch. He had known it was coming.
The bandit leader pointed at one of his men, a young boy who had maybe seen fourteen cycles. He hadn’t even reached manhood yet. A newer recruit to the group, Shigeru surmised. “Kill him.”
The boy charged, sword upraised above his head. Shigeru saw everything. The boy was a test, a chance for the leader to see just how good Shigeru was, to try to judge his techniques. Shigeru wasn’t in any mood to play. The sword snapped down, full of artificial rage and malice. Shigeru moved like water around the blade as it came down, his hands grabbing hold of the hilt and twisting. In the boy’s defense, he had good instincts. He tried to hold on to the sword, but momentum and Shigeru’s greater strength were against him. He rolled forward on the ground and Shigeru snapped his newly acquired sword through the air, impaling the boy’s furs against the ground.
The leader nodded his appreciation of Shigeru’s defense. Shigeru didn’t want to draw his blade unless he had to. “Leave now.”
With a flick of the bandit leader’s head, the other ten men darted towards Shigeru. Shigeru breathed deeply and inhaled the sense. The world lit up around him. It was time to draw. He was sad, but also satisfied. He wanted these men to die. He sensed the men moving in and the leader heading towards a tent that held three of the five remaining women. Shigeru’s hand went to his sword. The leader was ready to kill the girls, sentencing his own men to a particularly quick death.
Shigeru drew his sword. He had never fought ten men before, and he had to admit he looked forward to the challenge. Men came in and blades made their cuts. Shigeru could sense all their movements, knew where the swords would be moments before they arrived. He slid fluidly in the spaces that were safe and open, his own cuts finding men who were defenseless against his speed and knowledge.
As Shigeru struck, he could sense the bandit leader running one of the women through. They were down to four.
Combat was a practice that opened his eyes to the mysteries of time. It was as though it all happened at once, but at the same time it was as though the entirety of his life, the entirety of everything that ever had been and would be, was contained within that single moment. He couldn’t tell if he had been fighting for a heartbeat or if the entire day had passed. Both answers held truth for him.
Shigeru felt another life depart from the tents. Three left, but his movements were as steady as ever. Rage would kill him as certainly as his opponents' steel.
Shigeru became more than himself in combat. He became a weapon, a sword that brought destruction upon his enemies. He stepped to the side of one cut, bringing his blade up even as he stepped, reaching under his opponent’s guard as easily as if he were a practice dummy. Another step and quick pivot and he was well inside the guard of another, too close even to use his own blade. He brought the hilt up to strike his opponent in the jaw, knocking him backwards. In the same motion his blade snapped out, cutting air and flesh as one. Another cut aimed at him was true and was only deflected by the side of his own blade. The one who wielded the sword was more experienced, balanced. He cut again as Shigeru moved backwards.
All around him blew the storm of snow and steel. He never stopped moving. It had been a lesson once learned the hard way. Stop moving and stop breathing. It was all the same when outnumbered.
Another scream and only two women were left.
A cut sliced through one of his furs. His skin was untouched, but his heightened awareness could pick out the air that ripped through the new opening, cooling a part of his back. Swords were everywhere, but he didn’t notice the growing pile of blood and bodies on the ground.
And then he took one final breath and there weren’t any more swords coming at him. He stilled his body and mind, feeling for signs of life. The men on the ground didn’t have long, leaving only the leader of the group standing in front of him, his still expression a steel mask over the anger that Shigeru could feel emanating from him. His blade was red from the blood of innocents.
“Who are you?”
Shigeru shook his head. It was too late to spare this man’s life. He had pushed too far. Shigeru could have let him leave, but to wantonly kill the girls as his men died was too much. The man deserved a slow death.
“Well, I have to admit that I don’t know if I could have killed all my men with quite the flair you’ve seemed to manage, but I don’t think you’ll find me such easy prey.”
Shigeru analyzed the man’s stance. He was a big man, much stronger than Shigeru was. He held himself well too. It was likely that Shigeru was in for more of a fight.
The bandit didn’t waste time. He came in, aiming a careful series of strikes at Shigeru. Shigeru deflected all of them, but he felt that the man was only testing. His suspicion was confirmed as the bandit sped up his attacks. His blade moved quickly, and if Shigeru hadn’t been able to sense the cuts before they came, he might not have lived. As it was, it was only a matter of time before the bandit met his end. It was just the width of a finger too far, but the leader’s cut was off-balance. Shigeru slid in under the man’s guard, driving his sword hard into his enemy's belly.
Shigeru knew he had hit vital organs, but he seemed to be the only one. The bandit grinned and tried to bring his sword down on top of Shigeru, but Shigeru pulled his own blade out, twisting as he did so, and danced out of the way.
The bandit faltered. Shigeru had to give the man credit. A stomach wound like that had to hurt. Shigeru had twisted to ensure the wound wouldn’t close. The bandit took a step forward. Then another. Shigeru held his guard out, not giving his opponent any easy openings. Finally, the man fell to his knees.
“You’re superb. I’ve never fought anyone like you before.”
Shigeru dismissed the compliment. He wasn’t even of the Three Kingdoms. Of course the bandit hadn’t ever seen anyone like him before. His kind didn’t exist in these lands anymore. They had been hunted to extinction.
He sensed the two remaining women coming out of the tent the bandit hadn’t reached. They could tell the battle was over and were looking out to determine their fate. Shigeru saw the mixture of emotions play across their faces. Relief, anger, fear. One of the women, a young girl who had probably seen about sixteen cycles, came fully out of the tent with rage on her face. Both Shigeru and the bandit tracked her with their eyes. She approached, fearlessly and foolishly.
The bandit grinned wickedly and swung his sword in a lazy, one-handed arc. The girl saw it coming too late, but Shigeru sensed it coming. He darted forward, blocking the strike easily with his own blade. A short kick to the bandit’s arm knocked the sword out of the bandit’s bloody hand. The girl looked up to Shigeru, and he knew exactly what she wanted. He closed his eyes. He didn’t condone it, but he couldn’t condemn it either. The bandit was dead either way. He nodded and took a few steps back while the girl went to go retrieve the bandit’s sword.
The girl, slim as she was, picked up the sword easily. She swayed, just for a moment, under the unexpected weight and balance of the weapon, but Shigeru could sense her muscles finding their balance, preparing for their moment. She glanced at him as he made a scene of cleaning his blade of blood. The way he saw it, the next moments were hers. She walked slowly towards the bandit, wavering only a little.
When she was just a pace or two away, she stopped and stared the bandit in the eye. She didn’t speak, and from Shigeru’s observation, it didn’t seem like anything meaningful had passed between them. The bandit still had a fire in his eyes that wouldn’t go out. Shigeru had encountered a man like him once before. A man who knew no remorse, a man who cared nothing for redemption.
Whatever the girl was looking for, she wasn’t able to find it. With a primal scream she raised the sword high above her head and brought it down on the bandit’s head. Shigeru cringed, not out of any squeamishness, but out of a sudden fear for the girl. Such a cut was dangerous, and if the cut was off too much, the sword could ricochet unexpectedly like a club in her hands. Fortunately, the blade embedded itself in the bandit and the fire in his eyes finally died.
After the deed was done, the girl eyed Shigeru warily.
Shigeru’s sword was sheathed, but he opened his arms out wide. For a moment he wished that he was better with people. “I mean you no harm.”
The girl laughed at him, a mean bark almost more canine than human. “That was what they said, too.”
Shigeru shrugged. “I’ve nothing to prove to you. Your lives are spared. May you find peace.” He turned and threw out his sense, feeling the tug of energy pulling him gently onward. He started walking, taking a drink of water from one of his skins as he did.
He could barely hear her voice over the wind. “I’m sorry.” Shigeru paused, but didn’t turn around. “We need help. We don’t know where we are.”
He still felt the pull. Whatever was happening, it hadn't been resolved by his rescue of the girls. A part of him whispered that he needed to be going wherever the energy directed him. But he couldn’t put aside his humanity, not any more. He needed to finish his work here first.
“Please, sir. We’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t leave us.”
Anger flared in his stomach. He turned and strode back to the girl who panicked and stepped backwards quickly, almost tripping over herself. He said, “I don’t want you.”
Shigeru took off his outer layer of furs and set them over the girl. “Let’s look to your friend.”
“Sister.”
Shigeru nodded. “I’m sorry.”
The girl bowed her head in acknowledgment and they walked towards the tent. Shigeru didn’t use his sense, so he was surprised to see the sister in the state she was in. She had seen thirteen, maybe fourteen cycles. From the blood, Shigeru could see the past day or two had been more than hard on the girl. Shigeru closed his eyes and followed his breath. He slowly pushed away the rim of red that threatened to creep into his vision.
Shigeru dug into his pack and went to work. His motions were automatic. He’d cared for cuts and scrapes and bruises for many cycles with his work in the village. He lost himself in the healing, glad for the opportunity to focus his mind on something other than the mystery pursuing him. Physically, he knew he could heal the girl.
But he could see the look in her eyes. It was distant, unfocused. She still hadn’t come to terms with what had happened. Perhaps she never would. Shigeru had been in that place once, too. He remembered wandering the land, vivid images intermixed with the blur of indistinct memories. Tragedy struck in many ways, but everyone handled it alone. He could heal the body, but there were some wounds he couldn’t get close to touching.
He finished working with the younger sister. The tent was surprisingly warm, the warmest he’d been since leaving his hut. A wave of exhaustion came over him. “I think I’d like to lie down and sleep. Would that be ok with you?”
The older girl shook with fear. “No, there are more of them out there. They had one group who was following us and another one was out in front of us. What if they come?”
Shigeru stretched out and lay down. “I’ve killed the ones who were behind. I’ll wake up if anyone approaches. Wake me up if the storm clears.”
With that, exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a deep sleep.
Shigeru woke up to the nightmares once again. Her face, her blood, his sword. All he wanted was to find some semblance of peace, but his memories locked him in a perpetual state of suffering.
He made a move to get up and realized that both girls were wrapped around him. The older sister had fallen asleep with her head on his chest, and the younger sister had fallen asleep underneath his armpit. His first instinct was to jump up, but he suppressed it. They were children, true, and he was almost old enough to be their father, but they were children who needed comfort. That he understood.
He remained in the tent and listened to their soft snoring. They had been through so much, and there was more yet they would have to endure. He didn’t know about their families, but he assumed that if they had come from the farmstead, they weren’t alive.
He felt out gently with his sense. There wasn’t anyone nearby, but the pull on his mind was getting stronger than it had been before. He felt an unexplainable sense of urgency. It meant he’d have to leave the girls, though.
Shigeru didn’t want to. Rarely did he felt moments of pure contentment, but this was one. There wouldn’t be any family in his life. He was a warrior, hunted and exiled from his true people. He had always known starting a family would never be in his future. It was something he had made peace with many cycles ago, but laying here made him almost believe it was possible.
The tug on his mind was inescapable. He shook his head to clear it and focus, then moved gingerly to try to get up without disturbing the girls.
It was a good attempt, but they both woke up immediately. Shigeru smiled. “The storm has passed.”
He could see both of them processing what had happened. He saw the panic flash in their eyes. The older girl spoke first, and Shigeru again admired her resiliency. She would survive. He wasn’t as sure about the young one. Her eyes were still glazed over with the shock of what had occurred.
“What will happen to us?”
“I need to leave. I want to stay, but there is something very important I need to do.”
The girl’s eyes watered up, and Shigeru could see that she was fighting for control. Fighting and losing.
“You’re going to leave us?”
“I’m sorry, girl.” Shigeru felt awkward as he realized he didn’t even know her name. He wanted to lie to her, give her a convincing reason why he had to go, but there wasn’t any reason he could give that she would understand. So he stopped speaking. He wouldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. Even he didn't understand what was happening to him.
The girls both broke down, and Shigeru forced himself to stay a few moments longer. He knew he had to leave, and soon, but it was the least he could do for them. As they cried, he packed everything up for them except for the tent.
“Go then. You’re worse than they were. At least they didn’t abandon us in the middle of the prairie!”
Shigeru ignored the stab, trying to pretend like it didn’t cut as deeply as it did. He stepped out of the tent. “Come here, girl.”
Full of anger and fear, she stepped out. Overhead, the sky glittered with stars above them. The moon spun silently above their heads. Shigeru pointed out three stars that were close together in a line. They could never be missed in the night sky. “Do you see those stars?”
The girls nodded. “Good. If you follow those stars, do you see the other star right there?” Shigeru traced a line with his finger and the girl nodded again.
“This is very important. Can you find that star again, without my help?”
The girl nodded.
“Say it.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Those three stars will always point to that star. It’s called the southern star. It always points to the South. Follow that star. In a day or two, depending on how fast you move, you’ll find a wide river. Once there, turn left and follow it. In another day you should reach New Haven. Speak to the guards outside town. They will see that you are taken care of.”
Shigeru didn’t know how much that was true. The new lord, young as he was, was a strict lord, but he seemed to be fair with his people. If the girls had any chance that was the way.
“I will leave you most of my food. I don’t need it anymore. Travel as fast as you can. You shouldn’t need to worry about people in these plains, but the weather is dangerous. Just follow that star all the time and you’ll be fine. Sleep during the day in the tent when it is warmer outside.”
The girl nodded mutely. Shigeru couldn’t help but continue to explain himself.
“There is something I need to do. I think it will be very dangerous, which is why you can’t come with me. I know you don’t understand, but it is the truth.”
The girl nodded. Shigeru gave her a tight hug which wasn’t returned. He held back his own tears and anger. He wished he could explain himself better to the girl, tell her he felt a compunction he didn't understand. As he was about to leave, the younger girl came out, too, and he gave her a hug as well. It was returned, her little arms trying to squeeze away any separation between them. Shigeru had to gently pry her off.
“I’m sorry girls, I’m so sorry. But you are both strong, and I know you'll survive.”
He made a quick decision. He pulled out two of his throwing knives and handed one to each of the girls. "Here. In case you do run into trouble."
The older girl said, "If you see the ones who are left, kill them."
Shigeru nodded. That was a promise he could keep.
He turned and followed his sense once again. After a few dozen paces he turned around one last time. The older girl was packing up the tent, and the younger was watching him leave. Shigeru waved again and fought the tear that threatened to fall from his eye. He hated himself and he hated this journey. But his only way was forward.
Shigeru moved through the last of the night like a ghost, leaving only the barest hint of his path behind him. A gentle breeze stirred up the fresh snow, covering his tracks moments after he left them. His head was held low. Even if the girls tried to find him, they would only find themselves lost further in the plains. There wasn’t any way to track him.
As the night wore on, Shigeru’s spirits lifted despite his thoughts. He kept coming back to the two girls he had left behind. He’d never even learned their names. A dozen times he thought about turning around and catching up to them, but a dozen times he kept following the pull of his sense. Countless rationalizations floated through his mind, each one stabbing into the conscience he still held. He felt cursed, unable to make the right decision.
But he couldn’t stay focused on them, try as he might. The current almost physically pulled him, now towards the east. The night was clear, and the moon was up and bright.
Shigeru had never fought in combat against an actual enemy before this trip. He had brought death before, but it had been to one of his closest friends, a cruel twist of the Great Cycle. But in the past two nights, he had sent over a dozen men back to the Cycle. He was surprised by how little the deaths of the bandits disturbed him.
He quickened his pace. Although he couldn't explain why, he knew his journey was coming to a close.
The day dawned cold and clear. The worst of the storm was well past, but Shigeru had nothing but compassion for those caught in its grip. It had brought more than just the elements; it had brought destruction in the guise of bandits.
Shigeru hurried. He couldn’t tell why, but there was an overwhelming sense of foreboding, an idea that everything was coming to an end. When he expanded his sense, it almost carried him away with the force of its energy. He felt like a ship caught in the center of a tremendous wave, carried along whether he wished it or not.
Shigeru thought he could feel two different groups of people, one stationary, the other moving towards the first group. Shigeru’s mind leapt to conclusions. The girls had spoken of the scouting arm of the bandit group that was still in front of them. It had to be that group preying upon a group of travelers.
He was drawn to it, both by his sense and his own desire for justice. He felt the stationary group as the center of a massive whirlpool, dragging everything towards it. Shigeru, for the first time, doubted his sense. The group was almost a league away, and it was further than he had ever sensed before. It would take him valuable time to get there, time he wasn’t sure he had. Perhaps he’d been too slow. He was seized by a sudden fear, a fear he would be too late and that everything he’d done, from killing again to abandoning the girls, would have been for nothing.
Shigeru picked up his pace, switching to a full run. He moved as quickly as he could, cursing the calf-high snow he had to run through. As he ran he continued to sense glimpses of what he was approaching. His fears were confirmed. The bandits killed one man, and Shigeru flashed back to his battle with the larger group of bandits, their leader slaughtering women before Shigeru could get to them.
He ran. In his mind’s eye, a boy took one bandit by surprise, killing him with his own sword. The boy died slowly. The bandits found no other significant resistance. There were far fewer of them, but they easily overpowered the group. Shigeru ran, his chest and legs burning from the effort.
Then they were just over the next hill. Shigeru’s powerful legs churned up the incline, slipping in the fresh powder underneath his feet. The bandits had killed most of the group. There was just one boy left, but all of Shigeru’s senses were screaming at him. The boy.
Shigeru crested the hill. Below him, the small valley where the group had encamped was soaked with red and brown snow, lifeless eyes staring out at the pristine scenery. There were seven bandits left, and one of them was bent over, talking to a boy held tightly by another bandit. All eyes were on the conversation. Shigeru stopped running and caught his breath, moving forward slowly.
He saw the boy shake his head, and he felt respect for the child. It took real courage to say no when there was a blade at your throat. The man and boy stared at each other for a moment, and the bandit decided. He stood up straight and gestured. “Kill him.”
The boy closed his eyes and lifted his head, presenting his neck proudly. Shigeru’s respect grew again. He knew the consequences of his decision. Shigeru figured the boy couldn’t have seen more than five or six cycles, but he was making choices Shigeru had seen men of much more experience shy from.
The bandit holding the boy tensed, and Shigeru’s sense returned as clear as the sun burning the sky. No more current swept through his mind. Shigeru could tell he was a moment away from making his fatal cut, but Shigeru was too far away. A throwing knife came into his hand and he threw without hesitation. The knife lodged solidly in the bandit’s throat, making a sound the entire valley could hear.
The bandit dropped to his knees, surprised. The boy opened his eyes, confused. He’d been expecting to join the Great Cycle, but it seemed exactly like the life he’d been prepared to give up. All eyes tracked the trajectory of the knife and found Shigeru, standing there as calmly as he could.
Shigeru spoke. “That’s enough.”
It was a measure of how far he had come that he didn’t care if the men in front of him lived or died. He wanted them to attack him. In a way, it was their own way of suicide. He had spilled so much blood the last few days that a few more bodies seemed meaningless to him.
He could tell his words wouldn’t have any impact on this group. Like the other bandits he had faced, none of them were skilled enough to recognize his ability. They sought a safety in numbers that was nothing more than a dream.
Shigeru picked out the leader of this bunch easily. He called out to Shigeru and asked for his name. Shigeru gave it. He didn’t worry about word getting out about him. There wouldn’t be any tongues left to tell the tale. Five of the bandits charged at him, swords drawn, the fire of combat in their eyes, assured of an easy victory.
He moved between them, parting them like he would stalks of grass. His sword never touched another piece of steel, but when he had taken his last step the fire had gone out in five pairs of eyes. The bodies slumped to the ground behind him as he looked at the man who had thought he was the wolf. The man who knew, with a certainty beyond belief, that he was hopelessly outclassed. Shigeru wondered idly if the day would come where he would ever feel the same. Probably. Those who lived by the sword were fated to die by it.
The bandit took up a defensive stance. It was a good stance, one that would have taken Shigeru at least three moves to get past. He wasn’t interested. Maybe he wanted the bandit to suffer. Maybe he was overconfident in his abilities. Either way, he waited for the bandit to make the first move. He wanted a clean kill.
The moments flew by quickly, Shigeru eager for the bandit to move. As he was waiting, he felt something unusual, something he hadn’t ever expected to feel again. It was the sense. Somebody was using it. Shigeru could feel the sense, spreading out like tendrils through the landscape. They were thin, but unnaturally strong. Shigeru tracked them back to the boy, watching the two of them intently. The boy didn’t seem to know what he was doing.
The bandit thought he saw Shigeru distracted and tried to make his move. He leapt forward, but with Shigeru’s sense he felt it coming before the bandit was even conscious of his action. With one more cut Shigeru’s killing was at an end. The bandit collapsed wordlessly to the ground. Shigeru wiped his blade clean and sheathed it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to draw it again anytime soon.
Shigeru eyed the boy carefully. This boy was using his sense in the old ways, with tentacles that extended from his body. Mentally, it was much harder to accomplish, but it lent itself to more powerful techniques as a practitioner progressed.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the boy thinking about reaching for the throwing knife embedded in the body behind him. He viewed Shigeru as a threat. Shigeru let a hint of a grin escape from his lips. He was many things, but he wasn’t this boy’s enemy.
“You don’t need to worry about me, boy. I have no intent to harm you. Leave the knife where it is.”
The boy was visibly startled. Then his mind went to work, and Shigeru didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know all the pieces were falling into place.
“You can sense, can’t you?”
Shigeru let his grin grow a little wider. The boy was clever, and the reverence with which he used the term was also delightful. Living for so many cycles without anyone knowing what he was capable of, he had forgotten the almost religious devotion these people attached to the abilities he took for granted.
It was only then that he realized he had already decided. He would raise the boy. The thought surprised him, having wormed its way into his thoughts without him noticing, but once it exposed itself Shigeru knew it was true. He didn’t think about any other family the boy may have or the village he came from. He saw a boy in front of him that naturally came by one of the rarest gifts in the Three Kingdoms.
Besides, the boy had already impressed him with his courage, and his mind was quick. He had figured out Shigeru’s gifts in just a few moments, something none of the enemies he had faced over the past few days had learned.
“What is your name, boy?”
The boy looked at him with a blank stare. It seemed as though the boy’s name was on the tip of his tongue, but something prevented him from saying it. Perhaps it was the shock of the nightmare he had just lived through. Perhaps it was fear of him. Shigeru gave him a few moments. The boy wanted to say his name, but couldn’t get it out.
Shigeru studied the boy again. Until a few days ago he would have called himself a skeptic, but the events of the past few days had made him more of a believer than usual. He had been guided here. He didn’t have a rational explanation for it, but he knew it to be true. This was a baptism by blade. The child would be remade new, and his old name, whatever it was, wouldn’t be suitable.
He didn’t know where the name came from, but it was in his head, clear as the sun on a cloudless day.
“Your name is Ryuu,” Shigeru declared. It was a fitting name, a strong name for a future swordsman.
The boy was confused for a moment, but it passed quickly. Pieces seemed to click for him. Like Shigeru, events simply seemed to be, without rhyme or reason. His name fit. It was true.
Shigeru realized he was hungry. He had been on the move for days and had eaten very little. He wasn’t just hungry, he was starving. The inappropriateness of the feeling didn’t bother him. Even if he was surrounded by corpses, he could use food. He sat down and started eating some dried fruit, Ryuu watching him intently. Shigeru offered some of the food to him and the boy ate it eagerly. Shigeru scanned the caravan. It looked like they had been attacked before breakfast.
Ryuu finished before Shigeru. Shigeru watched him as he looked around the caravan. With a start, Shigeru remembered that the boy’s parents were probably among the corpses. He immediately felt guilty for sitting down to eat, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. He stood up and found two of the bodies. The woman was attractive. She was a peasant, but even dead, Shigeru could see her beauty. She should have lived to see her son grow up.
Ryuu started building a pyre out of the wood of the caravan. Shigeru didn’t offer to help. The rites of the dead were for family only. If the boy invited him, he would help, but otherwise it was the boy’s responsibility. Ryuu did not ask for help. He stacked the wood carefully and slowly, making a flat bed for the bodies. Once he was done he dragged the bodies, by himself, on top of the wood. Shigeru was sure at several points the child would collapse under the weight of his parents, but he stood strong and straight.
When the bodies were arranged, Ryuu stoked the nearly dead fire back to life. When it was good and roaring, he went back to the bodies of his parents and said a small prayer. Though he wasn’t family, Shigeru did the same. He memorized the features of the bodies so that when they returned to the hut, he could help the boy carve figures for them. Then the boy lit the fire, and the bodies joined their souls on their return to the Great Cycle. Shigeru was proud of the boy and the way he had held himself throughout the process.
After the fire had been lit for some time, Shigeru decided the time had come. He had made his decision. He would raise the boy in the manner he had been raised. He wasn’t sure to what end, but he knew it was the right choice for him.
But the boy had a choice to make too. Shigeru had been raised to respect that all beings made their own decisions. Shigeru had no right to force anything on the boy. He caught Ryuu’s eye and was assured that the boy understood. He could come with or not. Shigeru stood up and took in the scene one last time. He wanted to hold on to this, make sure he didn’t lose the meaning of the day due to the ravages of time on memory. Without a word he turned around and walked away.
The boy followed him. Shigeru could barely contain his relief. He couldn’t explain the last few days, but everything felt right to him. He breathed deeply of the air and kept walking forward, the young boy at his heels. His progress wasn’t nearly as fast as it had been on the way here, but that was to be expected. They had maybe made it a single league back towards the hut when Shigeru stopped for rest. They had both had a long day.
After a quick meal, they turned in. Shigeru watched as the boy fell asleep almost instantly. He smiled. The boy was resilient. Shigeru didn’t delude himself. Ryuu had a long journey left to go, and tears for the dead still to shed. But they were on this journey together. Shigeru fell asleep shortly after, exhausted from the past few days.
His sleep was dreamless and long.