Chapter Twenty-Six Sen
On the day her father left for the rebellion, Sen was supposed to stay home.
Instead, she rose before the sun to sharpen her sword. She packed a bag of fruit and socks, then placed her winter coat on
top of it. She said goodbye to her father at the door beside her brothers, who cried and hugged his legs. Then, once he had
walked far enough from the house that Mother wouldn’t be able to hear his voice, Sen grabbed her bag and raced after him.
He walked slowly in his military dress, which he hadn’t worn in over a decade—not since the samurai were abolished. Every
inch of him was covered in polished metal, his chest plate decorated with blue fabric and the gold insignia of the Shimazu
clan. His footsteps made the earth tremble and left deep indents in the ground.
“Chichiue!” she called, hurrying up to him.
Her father froze. He looked at Sen—in her training robes, no armor to speak of, nothing but his used sword in her hand and
worn sandals on her feet.
Sen stood before him, panting. “I’m coming with you,” she said.
He didn’t even dignify her protest with a response. He turned around and kept walking.
Sen walked beside him.
“Chichiue,” she said again, grabbing his arm. He tried to shrug her off, but she tugged harder. “I want to help.”
“You can’t help me,” her father said.
Sen clenched her teeth, then gave up on trying to pull her father and instead ran in front of him, blocking his path. He narrowed
his eyes.
“What have you trained me for, if not this?” Sen said.
“To protect your mother,” her father said. “Step aside, Sen.”
Sen ground her heels into the earth, her hand drifting to her sword handle, just as her father had taught her. “I am not a
sentry,” she said. “I am a warrior, and I will go to war.” I won’t stay home and cook and clean while you die , she thought. If I must die, I will die beside you.
Her father leveled his gaze with hers. Then, in one swift movement, he drew his sword.
Sen squared her stance and caught the edge of his blade as he struck down. But rather than striking again with any of the
elegant formations he’d taught her, he drew the hilt of his katana back into her face.
Sen reeled back, her vision flashing white, blood gushing from her nose. But her father wasn’t done. He raised his blade and
sliced across her abdomen. Heat and then pain seared her stomach. She didn’t know where her sword had gone, her hands too
busy clutching her stomach, trying to keep the blood in.
“ You think you could ever be a warrior? ” her father said. He loomed over her, blocking out the sun.
She gasped for breath, trembling with a sudden wave of cold. “I’m as strong as any man,” she managed, even though her words
shuddered like dying leaves on dry branches.
Her father scoffed, sheathing his sword. “It’s not because you’re a girl,” he said. “It’s because you’re weak .”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving Sen in the dirt.
He won’t actually leave me here to die , Sen thought, panting into the ground. She tried to rise to her feet, but the pain sent her straight back down. It’s another test , she thought. He’ll come back for me.
But the morning sun bloomed bright and hot overhead, and all the moisture left Sen’s mouth, and her hands felt cold and wouldn’t
stop shaking. Kura knelt beside her, ghostly hands tracing Sen’s jaw where blood trickled from her lips.
He does this because you’re strong , Kura said.
But Sen didn’t feel strong, not with her body numb and shivering, her father’s last words to her echoing through her mind.
Hands gently lifted her up and she tried to let out a relieved breath, but no air would come to her.
Chichiue has returned for me , she thought. But she felt herself pressed against a woman’s chest, her long hair sticking to the blood on Sen’s throat.
She laid Sen down in a bed of grass. Chichiue is coming back for me , she wanted to say, but couldn’t force her mouth to work. Put me back where you found me, or he’ll be disappointed when he returns.
She woke to Seijiro shouting at her, then her mother, then the world turned to night.
The next week passed in a haze of fever, but still her father didn’t return. Then they received word that the rebellion had
failed, and she realized he wasn’t coming back at all.
You’re weak , she thought as she swung her sword at young trees and branches and plants in the woods.
You’re weak , she thought as their soup grew more and more watery by the day and she could hardly taste it at all.
You’re weak , she thought as the months spun by and night after night she lay awake listening to the cries of the cicadas and wishing she had died on the battlefield with her father, because without him she was a lost star in a dark sky.
Then, one day, her father returned.
“I came back for you,” he said to her. “I will continue your training, and when it’s safe, you and I will start another school
together.”
And that was how she knew this man was not her father.
You’re weak , she thought as she hugged him anyway, leaning into his touch as he patted her hair.