Chapter Twenty-Four
Sen
Sen returned home, one way or another.
One moment, she was elbow-deep in Lee’s chest, and the next, she was outside the house behind the sword ferns, squinting up at the light of the late-summer sky.
“Hurry up,” her father said.
Sen clenched her fists around the handle of an axe. She blinked as if waking from a dream, the sun searing her eyes.
Her father’s footsteps padded away, and Sen’s vision cleared. She stood before a pile of uncut wood stumps. The leaves were orange, and winter would come soon, and her father had told her to chop firewood.
The memory was solid beneath her feet. Only a few weeks ago, she’d stood here and cut wood until the sun set, her palms blistered from the rough handle of the axe. She remembered the hum of the cicadas and the scurrying paws of raccoons, back when there had still been animals in the forest. But that moment had come and gone, and life was not a circle that looped back around on itself, and she could not be here for a second time.
But what was there to do but live through this moment again? Her father glanced over his shoulder, and she tightenedher grip on the axe. Even now, she would do what her father commanded. Following him came easier to her than breathing.
She settled a piece of wood on the cutting stump, hoping that wherever Lee had ended up, he was all right.
She widened her stance as her father stood on the porch and watched, his arms crossed as he judged the strength of her cut, the steadiness of it. It was different than using a sword, but samurai needed to be skilled in any kind of weapon they came across. Back then, she’d hated it.
Soon, he will give you a sword, she wanted to tell her past self.He molds you this way because he believes in you.
She hefted the axe over her head and struck down.
Blood burst from the wood, spraying back at her face.
Sen dropped the axe, scrubbing the salt from her eyes, spitting at the iron taste.What kind of wood is this?
When her vision cleared, the wood stumps were gone.
Seijiro lay still across the cutting block, his throat torn open in a vertical line, the axe lodged in his chin.
Sen screamed, her hands twitching with the urge to help as she fell to her knees, but there was nothing she could do. Pulling the axe out would only make it worse. Seijiro’s eyes blazed with accusation, searing into her.
Her whole body trembled violently as she took a step back. Her foot crunched down on something uneven and she tripped backward, splashing into a pool of blood.
What remained of Kotaro and her mother lay scattered across the yard.
Arms, feet, ropes of intestines decorated the grass, the soil wet and spongy with blood. Her mother’s head had rolled almost all the way under the porch, but Kotaro’s face was turned toward Sen, his jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Sen clapped a hand over her mouth, backing away as Seijiro gurgled around the axe, the top of it lodged in what remained of his teeth.
Wake up, she thought, clinging to that small ember of hope with everything in her soul.This isn’t real.
A shadow fell over Sen.
She whirled around, and there was the woman from her visions—Lee’s mother.
Bruises purpled her pale skin and blood ran unstopped from her broken nose. The white of one of her eyes was scarlet, a full harvest moon.
She leaned close, her lips brushing against Sen’s ear, and whispered the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lee
Sen shoved Lee away.
She crashed to the ground, scrambling away until her back hit the closet door. Her gaze darted around like a trapped animal until it focused on Lee. They watched each other from opposite sides of the bedroom, gasping for breath, their heartbeats hammering at the same frantic pace.
