The Living Shrine

The sun the next morning was blindingly bright.

The mist had cleared. The air was crisp and sweet, smelling of cherry blossoms.

Kaede sat on the steps of the shrine. She had cleaned her *naginata*. She had bathed. She wore a fresh, white kimono.

The village elders from Omi arrived at noon. They climbed the steps, bowing low.

"The air is clear," the Head Elder said, looking around in awe. "The rot is gone. You have done it, Guardian. You have pacified the Beast."

They presented her with a scroll. It was the restoration of the Himura name. It was everything she had wanted. Everything she had promised her father.

"Where is the pilgrim?" an elder asked, looking around. "We saw a traveler come up days ago."

Kaede looked at the patch of mud in the courtyard. It was already drying in the sun.

"No one came here," Kaede said. Her voice was steady. Smooth. Cold. "I have been alone the entire time."

The elders nodded. The mist plays tricks, after all.

They left, cheering her name, calling her a hero, a true samurai.

Kaede remained.

She picked up the bamboo flute from the folds of her sleeve. She brought it to her lips. She tried to play the melody Ren had played, but no sound came out. She didn't have the breath for it.

She set the flute down on the railing.

She looked at her reflection in the polished steel of her blade. Her face was perfect. Her eyes were dry. There was no grief there. There was no fear.

There was nothing at all.

She had become the perfect warrior. She had held the sword, and she had not shattered.

But looking at the empty shrine, Kaede realized that the boy was right. The iron hadn't broken. But the heart inside it had turned to stone.

She sheathed the blade and sat in the silence, waiting for the mist to return.