—SPEAK HIS NAME AGAIN AND DIE.—
He looked down at Yukiko, shell-shocked on the stone, fingers pressed to her belly, mouth agape as she sucked in breath after heaving breath.
YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE TO SAVE THESE CHILDREN, NOT YET BORN.
Kaiah growled as he padded toward her.
WHY? MONKEY-CHILDREN MEAN NOTHING TO ARASHITORA.
—…—
WHY, KAIAH?
—NO MORE YOUNGLINGS DIE. MONKEY-CHILD OR OTHER. NO NEWBORNS. NO UNBORNS. NEVER AGAIN.— WHERE ARE YOUR CUBS, KAIAH? WHERE IS YOUR MATE?
—MUCH CHANGE AFTER YOU LEFT, KINSLAYER.— He sensed a terrible sorrow within the Kenning, a river running too deep for Kaiah to hide it all.
—MUCH LOST.—
TORR?
—YES.—
FATHER, SAVE US …
—NOTHING TO SAVE US NOW.—
COME WITH US. FLY WITH US.
—WHY?—
He nodded to Yukiko.
FOR THE TWO WITHIN HER. THE TWO YOU RISKED ALL TO SAVE. I CANNOT PROTECT THEM BY MYSELF.
—IF CANNOT PROTECT, DO NOT FIGHT.— I GO WHERE SHE GOES. AND SHE WILL FIGHT UNTIL HER DYING BREATH.
Kaiah looked at the girl, something close to pity in her eyes. Waves crashed against the rocks, the roar and hiss of surf interwoven with the song of their father’s drums. She looked up at the storm-torn fray, breathed the scent of salt and rust and blood.
I CANNOT DO THIS ALONE, KAIAH.
—TOLD YOU NO, KINSLAYER.—
She tossed her head, rain spraying from her feathers, ghosts in her eyes. They stared at each other as Lady Sun crept higher in the sky, just a smudge of light behind the rolling clouds in eastern skies. The dawn was almost as dark as the night had been. Almost as if Amaterasu had never bothered to rise from her slumber.
Yet she had risen, as she’d done every day before this, and would do every day until the ending of the world. And every now and then, as the clouds shifted across the eastern heavens, a ray of light would pierce the gray horizon; just a tiny moment of illumination, a heartbeat long. And in that brief second, the sunlight would catch the falling rain and turn it to a thousand diamonds, sparkling like the long-lost stars as they tumbled from the sky. It would catch the edges of the islands around them, slick with red ocean’s kiss, dancing like flame on the edges of razors as Fūjin sang the song of the wind. Even here. Even now.
Even on the darkest day, the world could be beautiful. If only for a moment.
He could feel the little ones inside Yukiko—two tiny sparks of life, shapeless and bright, intertwined with her own heat. They pulsed, too formless to know true fear, but real enough to feel their mother’s terror, shock, sorrow through the Kenning. The fear spilled into him, fear for them, for the one who carried them, for the beating, bleeding heart of his world.
He knew Kaiah could feel them too.
PLEASE.
Kaiah growled, deep in her throat, tail whipping side to side.
—NO. WILL NOT FIGHT FOR YOU.—
Buruu bowed his head, breathed deep, tasted defeat on his tongue. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. He could feel the ache in Kaiah’s heart. The ache that drove her to this razored shore. A sorrow too vast to see the edges. Little ones. Precious ones. Loved ones.
Gone.
Taken.
Kaiah padded over to Yukiko, knelt on the stone before her. The girl looked up, swollen, trembling lips and frightened, blackened eyes. An age passed, there in the howling storm, the clawing wind, the driving rain, until at last, the thunder tiger leaned in close, pressed her head against Yukiko’s belly, and listened.
The sun slipped out from behind the clouds.
Just for a moment.
—BUT I WILL FIGHT FOR THEM.—
And the rain about them turned to falling diamonds.
42
PULSE
Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.
The rhythm of the tracks matched the one in his chest, the spectral pulse of the mechabacus inside his head. Kin watched the countryside spin by beyond the beach-glass windows, miles upon miles of lotus fields, the towering six-legged figures of harvestermen cutting through the plants like they were made of smoke, drifting up into a scarlet sky.
The train was filled to bursting, mostly sararīmen and their families; mothers, fathers, children, all crammed together in their little metal shells and speeding down the lines toward the great capital of the Shima Shōgunate. The news that Kigen had reopened her rail yards to admit well-wishers for the Daimyo’s wedding was received with buzzing excitement, and people from all over the country were descending on the Tiger capital to celebrate the holiday and catch a glimpse of the man who would be their new Shōgun.
Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.
So handsome, were the whispers. So brave. A man who gave his sword arm in defense of Yoritomo-no-miya, who crushed the Inochi Riots almost single-handedly. A man who stepped forward at the hour his people needed him most and wrought order from chaos. A man worthy to marry the last daughter of Kazumitsu and usher in a new, golden age for this mighty nation.