The dragon was without his famed sword.
When her father went to take it, she actually refused to hand it over. “I think he meant for this to go to his son.”
For a moment, he feared Hanzo would take it.
Until Hanzo’s gaze fell to the boy. For several heartbeats, he stood there as if debating with himself.
Finally, he nodded. “If the boy lives, we’ll execute him with it.”
* * *
Ryuichi groaned as he tried to move. Somehow—and he had no idea how—he’d survived the battle with his father. Afterward, his friends and enemies had brought him to Maho-jo to heal.
But he didn’t feel like he was healing. His wounds were severe. So much so that several monks had been assigned to him to ensure he lived in order for them to kill him.
It was sick, really.
Cure him to kill him. Only he would have luckthatbad.
But the worst was the fact that when his father had cut him across his chest, his sword had been coated with shadow magic. Magic that had left a festering wound that no one seemed capable of healing.
There was nothing the monks could do.
Nothing Koichi could do.
He was marked by his father’s darkness.
Until they could find some means to heal the wound he’d been given, Ryuichi’s soul would forever be damaged. He and his shadow would forever be at odds, unable to find peace with one another.
Soul-split. That was what Keiko called it.
If that wasn’t bad enough, everyone at the school was angry at him.
They blamed him for the fact that there was nothing left except an empty husk where their once great school had stood. Everything had been burned to the ground.
A lifetime to build. Minutes to destroy.
They’d lost so many members to his father.
They feared losing even more to him if Ryuichi couldn’t learn to control or contain his powers. And who could blame them? He’d been horrible to them all while he’d been split from his shadow. A shadow that currently didn’t like being with him.
Heartsick, he stared across the makeshift camp to where his dojo had been.
It was nothing more than ashes now.
They were lucky that anyone had survived.
But for whatever reason, his father had recalled his army, and they were semisafe now. Safe with the fear that his father’s army might return at any moment to claim him and to finish off every last member of Hanzo’s school.
“Hey, kid. You all right?” Koichi asked as he neared his bed with Takara in tow. That was the gentlest tone Koichi had ever used with him.
And that terrified Ryuichi. “Oh no. I’m dying, aren’t I?”
Koichi frowned in confusion. “What?”
“I must be dying for you to be that nice to me.”
Rolling her eyes, Takara shook her head.
