What… is this?

A pearly white had seeped into Mira’s consciousness that slowly filled her vision. Accompanying it was a warmth that brought memories of the nights before the first life she took. She reached out, but the warmth didn’t grow any closer. Any attempts to caress it failed before noticing the lack of any body to control, only leaving her conscious mind to experience that warmth. The sensation was akin to that of floating weightless in a sea of clouds. Never before had she ever felt this free—free from stresses, obligations, expectations, despair or any sort of pain. In the absence of those negative concepts, only that pearly white remained.

Is this…

Hope?

Her past of reaping the souls of others had utterly crushed any hope for retribution. After all, the Heaven’s punishment did not discriminate. If that warmth really was hope, then it allowed for the briefest sense of relief she couldn’t be anymore grateful for. For all the countless lives she extinguished, the hammer of justice she had expected was nothing more than a hug of light.

In Menuai, there lived a local artist who painted art known to draw the viewer into its compositions. Some even recount feeling enveloped and actually experiencing their settings. She caught glimpses of some of their work once every month. Raindrops on clay tiled roofs, cherry blossoms falling down as travelers walked down an archway, or the mountain range in the far distance, she felt enraptured in every single painting with just a sheer glance at a showing.

Perhaps this was one of those times—underneath a canvas of that pearly white.

Ah… She never did tell me anything, huh? About why she stayed behind.

The mental imagery of that night kept on replaying just as she did, enthralled by that artist’s work. The strokes started as grotesque marks, but eventually grew focused with more intent. That focus eventually gathered into a single point until it pierced the canvas of reality.

『What do you desire in this world?』

It asked a question. But she held no body to respond back. No lips to speak through.

『What do you wish to obtain?』

She had hope. Hope for the day that she could answer her question.

『What do you seek?』

“I wanted… a better future.”

・・・・・

“It’s a horse!”

“No you buffoon. It’s a donkey. Also known as an ass.”

Three laid down, the top of their heads almost touching, underneath an open canopy that allowed them the sight of the stars shimmering in the night sky. The emerald-haired girl had pointed to the cluster of dots that, to her, resembled the galloping creature familiar in their fantasy books.

“What’s an ass?” The youngest one asked laconically.

The other two craned their heads to look at each other and then back to the youngest.

“An ass… is a…”

“Don’t even try to answer that question, Emerald.” the oldest one pressed Emerald’s lips together with just her index and thumb. Being the tallest out of the bunch, she acted mostly as the leader, if not an example for the others. Derogatory terms notwithstanding.

“Mmmph mph—phmm—!” Shaking off her fingers, Emerald shot a sinister glance at her assailant while rubbing her mouth. “H—Hey! What’s the harm in teaching her a thing or two about adult language?”

“Everything, that’s what.” She sighed. “You really are too green for this world, Mira. Bad influences like Emerald should keep her mouth shut.”

“Heeeeeeeeyyy!!! Not fair, Chantou! You fished illegally in that pond the other day!”

“...I was hungry.”

The constant bickering continued to plague the two while Mira stayed afloat in the sea of stars above. She didn’t have too many chances to gaze out due to Chantou and Emerald being too busy with their assassin work to invite her, and she wasn’t going to sully this rare moment. Ignoring them, Mira concentrated on every single dot, drawing invisible lines, until she formed an all-familiar illustration.

“It’s a dragon.”

Having stretched her arm out to the starry beast above, the two ceased their quarrel and followed where she pointed. The dragon’s long body stretched across much of the sky’s apex. Three stars made up each of its claws, while the two curving rows of stars made much of its body. Seeing the all-powerful creature now made the three oddly nostalgic.

“When was the last time we saw that constellation?” Chantou wondered out loud.

“When you out-did me in kills that one mission and ate at the barbecue to celebrate until we passed out right in this same exact spot.” Emerald immediately responded, the memory still fresh in her mind. “Trust me, I still remember.”

“Still not over that?” she chuckled. “That was… a once in a lifetime feat.”

“I thought I’d lose my title of the Reaper. The only reason why I ate that much was to distract myself from the pain.”

Mira, still entranced by the dragon, listened partially. She ate and followed alongside them as if she understood how important out-maneuvering Emerald was. But it was a joyous time. Emerald stuffed herself with marinated beef to the point of a much needed bathroom break. Thus, she limped out of the building and into the nearby forest. Time passed, the poor girl still hadn’t returned, and so Mira and Chantou checked up on her. They found her sprawled on the grass and gazing up as if the meal had knocked her asleep. With her mind drunk on food, that was when Emerald began drawing an assortment of animals and mythical creatures in the sky. All of them Chantou and Mira couldn’t recognize but one did seem too obvious when she named it—that being the dragon.

“I know… I couldn’t take your title even if I wanted to.” If there was one thing Chantou couldn’t outperform Emerald, it was assassination. Time and time again, Emerald struck just a bit faster and more precisely than her group in training and on real missions. Chantou, the second best, couldn’t even come close to her skill. But she was the only assassin in the division who knew why. Emerald’s Aoi enabled this accomplishment. Of course she didn’t want to take her title… Emerald was already walking on a thin rope to keep it.

“—Is… assassinating really that fun?”

A pause.

“Don’t even think about it, Mira. We already told you.” Chantou’s tone became dark. Knowing her friend, she’d follow them to the ends of the Universe, but this work was the one thing she didn’t want Mira to emulate. “It’s definitely not the most clean job in the world.”

Not wanting a repeat of a past conversation that was more akin to a lecture, Emerald shifted in the grass. “M-Maybe, we shouldn’t be bringing up work in our free time, hm? ‘Specially when we’re trying to relax.”

“—But… I want to be like you two.”

Mira’s response came blunt again. Emerald and Chantou fell silent, not knowing what to say. She’d always been like this, following in their footsteps regardless of subject matter. After all, staying in her house with nothing to do forced her to seek out opportunities, and those two were the only ones to provide them.

“I still want to be as cool as you two. I want to put food on the table. I want to bring honor to myself and the village. I want to do sustaining, fulfilling work.”

Emerald winced. Those were the exact words she used to justify assassination to the curious Mira when she first joined the division. Her friend’s parents weren’t exactly thrilled when she expressed interest in the division as soon as she learned of Emerald’s enrollment.

Yeah, she’s green in her own way.

“...Hey Mira.” Emerald raised her head and sat up, her eyes still fixed on the stars. “If you’re really dead set on following us, then how about we get out of here someday?”

Those words rang out resolutely.

“E-Emerald? You’re not actually thinking…” Chantou lifted herself up, a worried expression on her face.

“Must be boring to spend everyday in the same exact spot doing the same exact routine. So… how about we change it up every now and then? Hell, let’s go out somewhere, tomorrow.”

Though Chantou's hesitant and Mira’s confused looks told her otherwise. She had declared the trip on a whim and with such short notice after all. “If you two are not up for it, then I’ll go alone and scout around for some sweet spots. That way, we can maximize our time having fun!”

A dream so childish yet so visionary. That was the moment when Mira began thinking about her own future. She was last to sit up, now entranced by Emerald’s starry gaze out towards the shimmering sky.

“You’re a real piece of work, Emerald.” Chantou sighed. “If it means showing Mira assassination isn’t the only thing to do in this world, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll agree.”

Someday we’ll get the hell outta here.

“What’dya say, Mira? Wanna take up the offer?” Emerald looked at Mira with that same focus. “What do you want to do?”

Someday.

That day will come.

・・・・・

“...Out like a lanturn.”

Of course, that was why it was so tragic to see that lone, frail girl on the verge of death. Countless lives have been reaped on the battlefield over the eons, and this poor girl should have been no different. Kneeling on the somewhat thrashed grass and soil, I stared at her with utmost curiosity. Bloodied, battered, dirtied clothes torn at every angle, and the like. Even with the back of my hand almost touching her lips, her breathing was weak to the point that you couldn’t distinguish her breaths from the wind. I cleaned her face from the dirt and blood using a handkerchief and sighed. What a tarnished beauty.

Perhaps greed for more materials has led me to her. I’d liken this to be the Universe offering me redemption for much of my bloodied past. I am, after all, a delusional man seeking my work as a swordsmith as an escape from reality. So much so that I wound up in No Man’s Land up north without me even realizing. Decade younger me would have brushed her aside. Yet…

That hilt… however. It piqued my interest. ‘Course any blade would, but this model wasn’t commonly seen around in our province. And of course it had to be missing much of its blade for me to accurately appraise its make. Though it didn’t take a genius to deduce where this girl’s origin came from. An inhabitant from the village of death. If I can’t figure out this sword’s make, then that only means—she’s an assassin.

Just my sheer luck. Out of all the years before, I have had a change of heart in the most inconvenient times. Perhaps that boy is rubbing off on me. I grunted. How foolish. My gear of materials was heavy enough as is, and my poor back cannot accommodate the weight of a full human body. So I chose to do the very thing that would surprise my past self—Losing my yield of ores and harnessing her up to my back.

What a hypocrite I am. In the age of war, beauties lying out bloodied like her wouldn’t have crossed my mind twice. I’d cut down lives all the same. And yet here I am, saving a life as if I am a Saint.

“Faah! Just my luck.”

My back creaked from her weight. Goes to show no weight of ore is comparable to the weight of a human life. My cursed past as a cog under the Daimyo really cannot be cleansed. Nor my days as a wandering swordsman. But perhaps this girl could forgive the hellish, fruitless decisions of an old man.

Redemption isn’t so bad.

・・・・・

Mira opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. It took little deduction to figure out the warmth was not a dream, but, in fact, the rays of light covering her face. The room from where she woke was lit by the open fusuma that allowed the noon sun through. As for the bed she found herself in—it felt too low for it to be a bed. A thick fabric separated her from the floorboard, with the same cloth covered up to her shoulders. Even the ones in her village were raised off the ground using a wooden frame. But she couldn’t complain. It was a bed nonetheless. The coziest, warmest one she ever felt at that.

“Is this… the afterlife?”

She curled her body upwards to sit up—and immediately felt the dull aches everywhere. Not the afterlife.

“Ow…”

She looked down. Underneath a loose, plain, thin kimono, white cloth bandages were wrapped all across her body. Any contact with them caused a sharp pain to shoot up. In particular, a little pressure on her ribs became a shockwave that rippled through every corner of her limbs.

The next moment she was hit by a hoarse cough that emptied her lungs. Her body shivered in response. After making sure she wasn’t about to cough up her internal organs, Mira mechanically reeled her arms back and forth. Pain and soreness, of course, came about, but that wasn’t the thing she was checking for. She can move.

Someone was kind enough to treat her wounds, whoever that may be. But before she could rack her brain for a potential target, a whiff of a mineralistic smell overpowered her senses. Oddly, she hadn’t noticed it until after she got used to the soreness. It carried a type of metallic, charcoal poignancy that tingled her throat enough to almost send her into another coughing fit. Trade-off for easing most of the pain, she supposed. Luckily controlling her breathing in assassination missions has its own merits.

Mira steadied herself and took in a deep breath, then let it out. The rhythm repeated until even the charcoal smell toned down into nothing more than a natural earthly sensation. By now, it had been quite a few cycles of this, and so she didn’t notice the footsteps creaking on the floorboards.

That was when she heard voices emanating behind the opposing door.

“A girl.”

“Ki.”

“She’s cute.”

“Ki.”

“You two.”

Two loud smacks emanated from behind. And then it slid open.

Three had been behind. One, a boy in a vest and holding the top of his head with both hands. His ruffled blonde hair wasn’t enough to cover the huge bump likely caused by the smack just now. As for the second... Mira rubbed her eyes. …A head-sized smooth, mechanical ball with orange-glowing eyes face flat on the floor with steam coming out of its head. Its two cylindrical arms sagged on the floorboards as if a blow knocked its batteries out. The third cleared his throat before she could question the out-of-place robot.

“So you’ve awoken.” A worn yet sturdy voice caught Mira’s attention.

He seemed to have lived out much of his years due to his slicked-back grayed hair. He held himself with a wooden cane, even though his stride inside signaled to her the cane wasn’t necessary. In fact, Mira could tell from the view between his kimono’s folds. Abs. Woah. Underneath that fabric laid a toned body that should only be reserved for warriors in their prime time and not elders in their retirement. Though his face did contain scars befitting for one.

“Where am I?” Mira asked, but the old man held his hand up.

“Before we get to that, how are you feeling?”

“Kind of sore…” she admitted. She was a lot more than just ‘sore’, but decided it was best to not alarm the people that kindly treated her.

“Suppose the lands had better plans for you then. A little soreness should be a lot better than four days ago.” He glanced outside then back to her. “This is the country-side of Alkai—specifically the Ise Province. You’ll see that we don’t discriminate against the injured.”

Ise province? How far away is that from Menuai? Wait. More importantly…

“I was knocked out for four days? What happened exactly?”

“That was the question I wanted to ask of you.” The old man took a step forward, eyeing the bandages. “That state you were in is a state no one should ever be in. What brought you to that position such that you were at the brink of death?”

“I…”

Should I tell him? About my past and what happened?

She bit her lip. It would be a bad move. Carrying work as an assassin wasn’t well received by the general public, so it should be no surprise if Mira were to get kicked out the moment she divulged her past. And that was why that night had concluded the way it did.

“I killed her…” At the cost of Chantou’s life. Her only remaining friend was now out of this world without any means of taking her back. No one else was left that shared her experiences, woes, and dreams, nor could recount them. The life that she led up to that point had ceased.

And those words alone were enough to give the old man an accurate picture. “…No wonder you were holding that broken hilt.”

Before her vision could blur from tears, the air had grown suffocating. That stifling air appeared to condense the more Mira leaned in the old man’s direction. Was that her imagination? Or was the pressure of guilt getting to her? It confused her. The physical repercussions shouldn’t cause lungs to stiffen no matter the guilt. Just before Mira could no longer take in air, the old man tapped his finger on the cane, releasing that strange spell.

“Your name?”

As the air came back, she took a deep breath and expelled out her name. “Mira.”

The old man stayed silent as if something could’ve been gained out of her name. He scratched at his face, then began pacing the room in deep thought. This went on for the better part of a minute until the boy between the door frame grew restless, the robot included.

“M—Master! Is this person—Is Mira here—really from No Man’s Land?” The boy shouted.

The robot emitted a tune and shot into the air at a speed akin to the boy’s energy levels. “Kii! Kii!” It flashed its orange eyes while maintaining its flight to the horror of Mira.

“‘Fraid that saying Northern Alkai should be enough to answer all your potential questions.”

“I…—huh…—I’m… afraid it doesn’t…” The boy tripped up on his words.

“Ki…”

“Lukas, the wind blows, no matter the speed or origin. That holds true no matter the conditions—no matter what person we speak of.” The old man said. “Now see to it so that this remains true.”

Lukas casted down his eyes, gripping his pants’ fabric. Then, letting go, turn his attention to his robot. “Sall.AR, step down… for now.”

“Ki.”

With the combination of their master's glare and raised voice, the fusuma quietly closed behind Lukas and the robot.

“Who are you?” Mira looked up at the slender old man. If he was the one who had rescued her on that night, then he would have managed to elude the countless assassins patrolling the area.

“Merely a swordsmith—but that would be lying to say I was merely a smith. In the past I’ve served under the Capital as a Samurai, doing work not so different as yours.”

Samurai!?

No wonder. Mira heard stories of the honorable Samurai that defended this region from enemies. They were said to be the most powerful people in the world. Eliminating hoards of enemy soldiers, deflecting bullets with their blades, even walking on water… Imagining this old man walking on water… The line between fiction and reality did blend so it was difficult to tell the legitimacy of some of the displays of power.

Mira stifled the thought. For such an honorable status of a person to rescue her… Even if he was a former Samurai that now dedicates his life to smithing, she felt undeserving of his help.

“Right now, you’re sitting in my smithy. It’s no school and yet those hooligans have the gall to refer to me as Master Kazeru.” He said, craning his neck over his shoulder. “Guess it’s no secret that I send bandits crying back to their mothers whenever they foolishly try to rob me.”

“...”

Kazeru, that was his name. Compared to the hypothetically infinite achievements of Kazeru, what had Mira accomplished? Killing. Nothing but killing. They lived on the polar opposites of their respective sides of honor.

“Master Kazeru… Is there any hope for someone like me… to make it in this world?” She asked. “If all that I ever did was kill?”

The old man slowly returned to Mira, slowly enough to make her shiver. “I do not know your past, so I cannot decide how you should proceed with your life from here on out. But—” Catching another glance at her bandages, the Master scowled, “—Hands like yours should not hold a sword.

“The art of the sword is for honing self-discipline. So you will not find the techniques that you learned from your past teacher used here. Your sins, however, far surpassed that of an ordinary human. Hands do not lie.”

In turn looking down at the palms of her hands, they trembled. There was truth in that statement, because—

There’s no way I should’ve survived.

It was as if he had already dissected Mira’s past from the start. As if the weight of countless lives were etched into her skin. When was it that she had grown numb to erasing the very lights of people? Now that she thought about it, that comment from earlier about his work being not so different from hers…

Did he lie before? Does he actually know?

“I thought I wanted to...” Even if it wasn’t entirely a lie, the fact remains that she purposely chose that path of bloodshed. Even if it was just the whims of a child following in her friend’s footsteps. “I… don’t want to be the Reaper.”

Kazeru’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. “Blades… they are tools for killing; for eliminating the fires of human lives. Whatever the reason for that outcome does not change the fact that you’ve revoked another’s future. To earn the respect of others is admirable but that does not justify the one deed that goes against the very nature of our lonely species. So this goes without saying if you wish to live under this roof…

“I will not allow you to hold another blade ever again.”

It was that feeling again. That wrench in Mira’s heart as soon as Chantou said to kill her. It felt so palpable that she could’ve molded it in her mind.

Ah… that’s right. I only ever held a blade because of them.

And yet, there was a hint of mercy in his voice.

“That being said, any soul deserves a proper upbringing, and you shall have it.”

Kazeru gestured to the door. Like a choreographed display, the fusuma doors slid open once more, but this time the boy and the floating robot carried trays that immediately caused Mira’s stomach to loosen. It was a scent that brought memories of nights at the dinner table with her parents. The two presented a meal on a bed tray. Looking over every plate, sweet potatoes, vegetable scraps, a bread roll, soup, she found herself trying to hold back tears.

“I…” Mira choked on her words. It wasn’t the first time she had been offered hospitality from a stranger, but it was most needed now.

“...Thank you.”

A genuine thanks. The fact that she sat with food in her lap was proof that she was given a second chance. A chance to forge her own path.

“I should apologize for being so ill-prepared for a sudden guest. Luckily I doubt folks won’t think twice if I house another ‘guest’.” Suddenly, Kazeru shot a scary glare towards the fusuma about to slide shut. “As for you two, please treat our new guest with the utmost respect… and privacy.”

“Haha…”

“Ki…”

Kazeru made his way through the fusuma, likely to punish the two for the sin of peeping earlier. Before closing it behind him, he stopped, the sun reflecting off a particular character on his white kimono. “Mira, you’re past was not all without reason. You have fought to protect and defend these lands. Very likely, at the cost of one, you have saved thousands in return.”

At the sound of the shutter, she was alone, but in the opposite conditions of that lonely night. Sitting in silence, Mira contemplated those words as she took a bite out of the potato. Warm and sweet. From that day, she’d have to decide a new future for herself, whatever that would entail. But at least for that morning, she allowed her mind and body to bask in her new-found tranquility.

That was the character for ‘wind’ just now.

Perhaps the wind led her to a second path during that night. She did remember some invisible, invigorating force pushing her forward into the depths of the forest, but then again adrenaline is one hell of a drug. On the other hand, chalking it up to merely physiological processes didn’t seem right to her either. Something had pushed her along, making her cover distance impossible for the injured to cross.

Mira shook her head. There goes her thinking again. She took another bite of the potato, and the sweetness instantly knocked her out of her own mind. If only she could share this moment… with them.

I’m sorry Chantou, Emerald. I have to hand it back. Please… keep on being the Reapers in my stead.