Get up and fight. Get up and stand for yourself. Get up and you can thank yourself, for you managed to survive. And you can take it, take it into who you are, and you can leave it behind. It’s a part of the story of your life. It will always be there. But it is not what has to happen now. It is part of the story, but it is not the entire story.
You don’t have to run away.
She thought these things and felt them. She thought,Instead, you can reach. You can hold. You can be held.
This body, this air. This breath. This is who you are.
This is who you are, Rui. This.
I’m ready to go.
In the darkness of the world, I hear them.
A shout, a small cry; a shout of fear.
Jobo.
He was somewhere past the southern gate, fighting the monster, and he was alone.
He is hurt, she thought.He’s hurting.
He’s calling my name.
Rui rose. She found her sword, pulled herself up. She heard her master shout again. It sounded desperate. The god waited, quiet.
“Hold on! Teacher! I’m coming!”
And she ran. Ran back into the emptied village. Ran toward the enemy. Toward her teacher. Toward the end.
You want my soul, she said to the god.Help me stop this monster and it is yours.
Amid the sound of the fires and the roar of the battle at the riverside behind her, she felt something in the world shift, a veil falling, or being pulled away. The ground moved beneath her feet. The Hososhi rose with her. Within her. She heard their voice.
We have a deal.
She’d last seen him facing the demon, the tall woman in white, on the roof. Over the corpse of the imperial prince, Nioh.
She’d last seen them as Jobo leaped high into the air, spear raised in mid-strike; as the woman stood there, motionless, as if waiting.
She arrived at a garden path below persimmon trees.
Jobo and the demon had brought the fight to earth. Their blows rang high and shrill across the courtyard. Jobo had the sacred spear; the woman swung her sword. Metal on metal, blades cutting air.
Rui had her own sword in her aching hand, and ran to help her teacher. She cut at the demon, and was herself cut in the arm.
“Do not strike her!” Jobo shouted.
“How are we supposed to kill her if we can’t strike?”
But she saw small lines of blood soaking his clothes, saw how he shifted to a defensive stance. They couldn’t attack. Every blow they landed only hurt them.
The demon looked at her, with blank and staring eyes.
“You.”
Rui’s sword fell. Her arm dropped, heavy, as if out of her control. Jobo shouted, struck at the demon again, but she evaded without breaking step.
“You.”
