The penitent one, the good soldier, who always did his duty.
And look at where we are.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t do this…” She stepped forward. “Youcan’tdo this…”
“You—”
Words eluded him.You? You?What was Yaeko in this?
She had no role in the slaughter of his youth, no hand on the loom that was his fate.
He said: “You don’t have to help them.”
She shook, eyes torn, fracturing. Seeing him, seeing the road they were on. Her words were sad, so terribly sad. The knife of it ran through her too, cutting her as deep as it cut him.
You’re betraying everything you loved. Everything you tried to do.
It led to this.
Her voice trembled. “How…”
Yaeko, he wanted to tell her. I know what you would say.
“We swore an oath toprotectthem…”
We did. But we also swore to protect the realm.
“I’m going, Yaeko,” he said.
“Stop!” Her sword shook in her arms. “Just stop.”
He saw an ocean in the empty road, deep and impenetrable as any dark abyss. He saw a single strand of truth between them, the truth of what he had to do, and why.She knows, he thought.She knows this can’t go on.It tethered them together; it shoved them far apart.
“Do what you must, Yae.”
“Teacher.” It was a plea.
But he stepped away.
“You’ll be an outcast!” she gasped, tears streaming with anger: “You’ll be atraitor.”
He heard her, and found no way to truly say:I understand. It was beyond him now. Beyond feeling, beyond hope, beyond fear. The truth had always lived in things he didn’t say.
“It’s too late, Yae.”
“Yora!Stop!”
He didn’t. He walked, his back to her. She called his name again. He fought himself, and turned, a final time, to look his student in the eyes.
She took a step. Undecided.
She could end it with a blow.
She didn’t.
Just stood, behind him, watching as he left.
