Sen
On the last day of her life, Sen went to her mother.
Her voice carried through the yard, bright with laughter. Sen followed the sound across the porch and found her mother sitting in the dirt, watching Kotaro pluck flowers and present them to her one by one. Seijiro swung from the branches of a tree at the edge of the forest, calling for their mother to look at him as he climbed higher and higher.
Sen felt as much a stranger to this world as she did to Lee Turner’s world. Had she ever been this young? Had she ever laughed this loudly without her father grabbing her throat to silence her? As the clouds rolled past the sun and its warm light illuminated the smiles on her brothers’ faces, Sen felt like the ghost she was doomed to become. Here she was, lingering at the edge of a world she would never have. Unseen, unwanted.
She shut the porch door and returned to her room, then sat alone in the dark. Sen felt as though she was on a distant island surrounded by black sea. She could call out to the endlessness of the ocean, but no matter how loud she screamed, no one would hear her.
She remembered the years before her brothers were born,before she was old enough to hold a sword, before her father had found theHagakure. Her mother had held her close to her heart and told her stories as she fell asleep. One night, she told Sen the tale of a fisherman who rode a turtle to the bottom of the sea, only to return three hundred years later and find his world irrevocably changed, his mother long dead.
Sen had cried so hard that her mother hadn’t even been able to finish the story that night. Back then, the thought of losing her mother was unbearable. But now, the day of her mother’s death had arrived, and Sen felt nothing at all. She was a torn piece of fabric and the wind blew straight through her. It was as if all of them had died long ago, and this last step was only a formality.
“My lady,” said a voice in the doorway.
Sen turned to Youna, who was lingering in the doorway with a cup of tea.
“You seem unsettled,” Youna said, placing the tea beside Sen on the porch. Sen watched the steam spiral and disappear in the white sky. Soon, night would fall, and the end would come.
“Youna,” Sen said. “Pack your things and leave.”
Youna stilled. “My lady?”
“The other servants too,” Sen said. “I want you all to pack and leave within the hour.”
“My lady, have I upset you?” Youna said, folding into a bow.
Sen shook her head. She could see it now—all the servants slaughtered in the halls when the soldiers came for the Iwasaki family. Youna’s family had not been dishonored. She didn’t have to die with them.
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Sen said. “Please, do as I say.”
Youna was a faithful servant, usually good at following orders. But as she rose from her bow, a deep frown creased her brow.
“My lady, I cannot,” she said. “I must stay here with you.”
“You must do as I say,” Sen said.
“But your father—”
“My father is my problem,” Sen said. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
Youna’s hand closed around Sen’s wrist. Sen flinched and drew back, but Youna clung to her. “Please, Sen,” Youna said.
“Sen?” she echoed, reeling back.
“My lady,” Youna amended quickly. “I won’t leave you. Everything will be fine if I am by your side.”
“It won’t!” Sen said, trying to tear her arm away. Why was Youna resisting her now? Sen tried to pull away again, but when it didn’t work, she reeled back and slapped Youna across the face. The sound echoed across the forest.
“Get out of my house!” Sen shouted. “That’s an order!”
Youna stood stunned, one hand on her red cheek. Tears burned at her eyes, and she dropped into a bow. “Yes, my lady,” she whispered. Then she turned back to the house, shutting the door behind her.
The end came an hour later.
Sen was on her third circuit when she heard shouting by her house. The trees shivered at the echoes of her father’s enraged voice, though she couldn’t decipher his words from a distance.
It’s started, Sen thought, running toward the house. She would meet her death standing up, a sword in her hand. She would not die in hiding, or on her knees. As the sun rose higher in the sky and its warmth held her face like her mother’s hands once had, back when she’d loved her, Sen felt ready at last.
