Page 16

Chapter 16

Kaneko

I t was another beautiful morning, as if the gods themselves had crafted the perfect day for our fourth Trial. As we strode up the well-worn path toward Ashina Shrine, Yoshi’s shoulder brushed mine. Whether he did it intentionally or simply wobbled as he walked, I was unsure, but his touch sent a thrill through me each time I felt it. It also grounded me, reminding me of the connection and support he had given me throughout our lives—of the support he would always offer.

I knew it now.

I knew it deep within my spirit where only truths lived.

Yoshi would always return. He would always fight for me. He would never cast me aside.

My chest felt so full I wondered if the others saw me glowing, but that was ridiculous. Not even the magic of the Shinto could make a man’s skin shimmer like the sun.

I was being ridiculous—but it felt amazing, nonetheless.

The moment we stepped beyond the shrine’s torii gate, the world shimmered and shifted.

The air thickened, charged with something older than words, older than time.

I had felt magic before—seen the priests bless the rivers, listened as they whispered prayers to the spirits—but this was different. This place did not simply hold power.

It was power.

The shrine stood at the edge of a mirror pond, its still waters so perfectly reflective that it looked as though the sky itself had been laid upon the earth. There could be no mistaking it for something ordinary. The reflection moved, but not always in sync with the world above it. I caught flickers of shadows, glimpses of people who weren’t there, of times that weren’t now.

I looked up from the placid waters to find the shrine’s steps empty. Gone was the pavilion under which the Emperor had sat. His throne had likewise been removed. Shinto priests who attended each of our previous Trials remained hidden, if they were even in attendance. No gathering of nobles waited.

Looking behind, I saw only an empty trail.

No villagers, no family members, no one had risen to witness this day.

Then a flash of motion and a glint of the sun reflecting off something brilliant caught my eye. Nawa lounged within the forest, a dozen or so yards inside the tree line. Her eyes glowed with iridescence, more alive, more alight than I remembered from before.

Had this place enhanced even her innate magic?

Was it possible to make a dragon more powerful?

I shuddered at the thought and buried it deep.

We had a Trial to best.

There was no time to wonder over mystical creatures who happened to be lurking nearby and watching our every move.

No, that wasn’t terrifying at all.

“Okay, this is weird,” Soga said, his head swiveling as he searched for any sign of others. “What are we supposed to do? Stare longingly into the water?”

“You would go straight for your own reflection,” Niiro quipped.

I chuckled, but Yoshi’s face remained stone.

“We wait,” Yoshi said. “Nawa watches. I suspect our Trials have already begun.”

As he spoke his final words, Niiro and Soga vanished.

“What the—” I stumbled, reaching for Niiro but grasping only wisps of shimmering smoke.

“Stay alert,” Yoshi said, his brow furrowing. “Today is the Trial of Humility. There is no telling what kind of fire they will drop us into.”

“Humility?” I grunted. “So much for Soga joining us to the end.”

Yoshi’s stoic composure cracked, and I caught the slightest twist to his lips.

Then the world shimmered again, and Yoshi was cast into the pond.

I dove for him, but struck the surface as though running headlong into a wall of glass. I could see Yoshi falling deep within, but my hands could not penetrate its solid surface.

Helpless, I watched him enter another world.

Yoshi landed hard, his feet skidding against earth as a gust of heat and smoke slammed into him.

The village was burning.

Flames consumed wooden houses. Thatched roofs collapsed into embers. Horses raced every which way, terror streaming from their lips.

In the distance, a bell rang notes of alarm.

Men and women, even Samurai, ran to wells to fill buckets in a useless attempt to save what they hoped would not burn.

The sky churned with thick, choking blackness.

And the screams—gods, the screams.

Yoshi stood frozen in the middle of the road.

People lay trapped and broken under fallen beams.

Others huddled against stone walls, the fire closing in.

A child sobbed for his mother.

Then, from the opposite direction—

A group of wounded warriors.

Their faces were streaked with blood, their armor shattered, their swords broken. They staggered, some leaning on each other, others collapsing where they stood. Soga was among them, along with others we’d known since childhood. Our brothers.

Nawa’s voice echoed, disembodied. Even I could hear it this time.

Yoshi’s gaze turned skyward as he listened.

“Soldiers or villagers, you may only save one. Anzu Yoshi Nagao , choose!”

Yoshi stiffened.

He knew it was a test.

He turned back toward the villagers. The moment he moved in their direction, the warriors gasped and clutched their wounds. Some screamed in pain, while others fell to their knees as though their lifeblood had suddenly been drained.

When he turned back to the warriors, the villagers’ wails weakened, their bodies flickering like smoke. Blazes, already consuming everything in sight, raged ever higher, so high I thought they might burn the sky.

Yoshi’s hands shook.

“This isn’t real. Yoshi, this is just a vision!” I screamed.

He didn’t hear.

Yoshi’s head whipped back and forth as he struggled to decide, as he weighed the risks and balanced each choice.

I could feel his thoughts, hear his doubts. His inner debate howled louder than the wind and burned brighter than the flames.

I have to find a way out. There has to be a way to save both, his thoughts echoed through the grove.

But there wasn’t.

The flames surged higher.

The warriors’ eyes dimmed.

Yoshi clenched his jaw.

“I cannot play the gods,” he screamed. “I am no god!”

His knees hit the ground.

“I am only a man. Amaterasu, help me. Mother of Life, help them, please,” he begged, tears streaking across his soot-covered face.

A nearby building collapsed, its roof falling through to crush those within.

Screams died as quickly as they’d swelled.

Yoshi’s head sagged.

I reached for him, desperate to comfort him, but the pond’s magic held me back, kept us apart, forced him to face his fears alone.

“I cannot choose. I will not choose. Take me instead.” His whispers were pleas drowned in tears.

The fire vanished.

The soldiers disappeared.

The village and its people evaporated to mist.

Finally, the sky cleared.

The image in the pond shimmered, and the sky’s reflection returned. When I spun about, Yoshi, his head still bowed and face still wet with grief, found my eyes.

And my heart shattered.

“Yosh—”

He held up a palm and cocked his head, as if listening.

“What is it? Is it Nawa?”

“She said a leader may not always know what is right, that a clear path is rarely laid before him.” His eyes widened. “My humility in refusing to choose counted as a success, but she also had a warning.”

“A warning?”

He nodded. “If I had faced that scene in real life, both the villagers and the soldiers would have died because I made no choice. She said, ‘Wisdom is often the foe of humility.’”

“That’s unnecessarily cryptic,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Yoshi blinked away tears.

Then the world shimmered, and Yoshi vanished.

“Yoshi!” I yelled, but he could not hear, could not answer.

I was alone.

The ground vanished beneath me.

I fell.

Wind roared in my ears, and my stomach twisted as I plunged into darkness.

And then—

Cold.

So cold.

I struck the ground, my knees slamming into wet stone. Water flowed around me, ice-cold. I gasped, my hands finding the slick, jagged rocks of a creek bed. My breath came sharp as mist curled from my lips.

There was no sound.

There was no sky.

There was no sun.

Only the creek roaming endlessly before me, its surface black as ink, flowing without sound.

I turned, my muscles tensed.

Then, from behind me—

A distant roar.

I spun.

A wave.

Not water. Not a river.

A tsunami of blackness rolled toward me. It was tall as a mountain, devouring the world in its path.

I ran.

My lungs burned, my feet splashing against the shallow water, legs straining to move faster—but the wave was faster.

Bridges appeared.

Three of them.

One of stone, ancient and cracked.

One of wood, swaying unsteadily.

One of rope, fraying with every breath.

“Choose,” an ancient voice spoke above the din.

I didn’t slow.

The stone bridge looked strong, but one crack and it would shatter. The wooden bridge might hold, but the nails were rusted, the boards already loose. The rope bridge—

It was thin. Too thin. A single misstep and I would fall.

The wave thundered closer, blackness rising to consume the world.

I swallowed hard and chose.

The wooden bridge.

I lunged forward, throwing myself onto it, feet pounding against the fragile boards. The structure groaned, shaking beneath my weight, but I pushed forward.

And then—

The blackness reached me.

Icy fingers burst through the void to wrap around my ankle.

I screamed.

This wasn’t a wave.

It was a thing , a mass of writhing arms, claws, and sunken faces.

Talons reached up from the water, gripping my legs, tearing my skin, pulling me down, and whispering—

“Kaneko, join us. Free yourself. Give up and fall.”

My vision darkened.

I kicked and fought and struggled.

Blackness thick as pitch filled my mouth and lungs.

Breaths became torture.

Thought was pain.

“Let me go!” I shouted and kicked.

But they refused.

A rending sound shattered the silence as the bridge split beneath me.

I screamed.

And then—

A light.

Not fire.

Not sun.

A golden glow surging through the river, through the darkness, through the hands and claws and talons.

I gasped as the light wrapped around me, pulling me up.

And when I opened my eyes—

I was back.

The pond shimmered with the colors of the sky and sun. Nature’s beauty tickled my ears. Yoshi stood before me.

I was on my knees. My hands were shaking. I was alive.

A voice, deep and unshakable, sang throughout the grove. “To wield a blade is strength. To fight in the face of darkness is courage.”

A pause.

“But to survive is wisdom.”

I exhaled sharply. My body was drenched in sweat. I still didn’t understand how or what lesson I was meant to learn, but I’d made it.

Yoshi threw himself to the ground, gripping my shoulder with one hand, my face with his other.

I looked up, and our gazes met. Something passed between us.

We had endured.

And from the forest—

Nawa watched.