A rush of goldenrod. Light; a tidal wave of brightness floods the land. It knocks me flat and pulls me down into its celestial depths. Warmth soaks into my body, a blanket of illumination the sun gives off when the world is smiling. What type of luster could shine so stalwartly? Were I to drown in this vibrant honey and just sink deeper into luxury, everything would be at one. It would all make sense, and peace would finally settle in. How enchanting…

"PUTAIN!"

It's gone. Snap back.

"Oh, my dear sweet lord…"

It's all gone back to crystal clear. My brain struggles to understand what my body is trying to tell it. I am upright. I am holding my sword. More than that, I am alive.

But how?

I close my eyes. I need a reset. When they open again, the scene seems to play like something out of a silent era war film. My sword is scarlet. It glistens in the sunlight, dripping tiny rubies that scatter across the grass. My hands are awash in this scarlet vitality, and I see rubies have scattered across my clothes as well. My eyes dare to peer downwards. Two fallen soldiers lay a few feet apart from me, flat on their stomachs and heads looking to the side, as if listening for a loving welcome to sprout forth from the earth or perhaps a taunt from further below. But they aren't listening, they aren't anything. I can tell; the greed has vanished from their eyes but the emptiness has stayed. It will stay always.

Rubies garnish their clothes more than mine. I look back at my sword, blade fully upright. I just gave them their forever.

A desperate breath is floating through the air. I'm surprised, until I realize it is mine, and it is happening repeatedly. My body and mind are back to walking the same path, and it's unclear if either is about to stumble.

I turn my head slowly, my feet rooted firmly into the ground. Christophe is standing about five feet away from the dead bodies. It was his voice I heard, that swear that brought me back into being. He is clearly horrified.

His eyes meet mine. "Ma bichette?"

His voice is shaky, and his eyes seem to want to look anywhere but at mine, yet the alternative is worse to bear. The host is beside him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in utter shock. I see Yoshitsune as well, who's lips are pursed together tightly. He looks as if his heart has cracked, and his lips are the only thing holding back the despair leaking forth from it.

Yoshitsune? My head whips back and forth, blood flying off the blade as my hair smacks it. Oh my god, where is Kazemasa?!

Christophe starts walking towards me slowly. "It's alright, it's alright."

It is not.

I look down at the men. "They came to kill you, but they wanted to kill me more."

I look back at Christophe. "The taller one called me lavette."

Christophe forces out a nervous chuckle, still walking slowly towards me. "Well, anyone can see you are clearly not a woman who lacks courage. How about you put that sword down and we get you checked out by the paramedics?"

Sword down? Is he scared of me? He doesn't understand, what else could I do?

I look at my sword. I feel indestructible; this sword saved my life. Is this how King Arthur felt as he held Excalibur? How William Wallace felt as he held his Claymoore? I understand now how Kazemasa feels when he holds his katana, and why he scoffed at my incomprehension. My sword carries my soul.

I bring the blade close to my face. A sour, metallic scent wafts off it.

Vin rouge…wrap me in red velvet…

Still looking at the blade and taking in the scent, I answer Christophe. "I don't think so. This sword is the only reason I'm still alive." My eyes peer over at him. He is still walking forward, only about two feet away, and caution is practically his new name. "You need not fear me Christophe, surely you know by now that I'd never harm you."

He stops. "I don't fear you. What you feel off of me is nothing but sorrow, though part of me does fear that I'll never be able to find your forgiveness." Christophe looks remorsefully at me, and continues walking.

What does he mean by that?

I inhale. The scent of decaying life. I tip the blade downward. "Never mind any of this, where is Kazemasa?"

Christophe is now standing beside me. "I figured you saw him. He's far from here, you must have moved around a lot during the...fight. The paramedics are helping him; an ambulance will be here any minute."

He's looking right at me, but I stare ahead. "Is he okay?" I mutter, my heart sinking further.

Christophe dips his head. "He got shot. He lost a lot of blood."

I grip my sword tighter. The tip is now piercing the ground. Does the earth scream in pain, or is it used to such careless violation? I wonder how much blood it has tasted, a taste that's probably as second nature to it as toothpaste is to humans. In hate, in victory, in defeat, in respect; once blood has been spilled the reason why is immaterial, it is all just the same: swirled together with rocks, pressure, and time so that we can walk towards the future and learn from the past. Despite this, it will still taste blood.

"Con…con…" my voice snarls.

Christophe attempts to put his hand on my back, but I jerk away. He puts his hands in the air. "I'm so sorry."

The handle feels as if it might shatter in my hand at any moment. "I need to go with him."

Christophe gasps. "You understand how that's impossible, right? The police are coming, two men are dead and you're the one who killed them."

Hmph. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child Christophe. I'm aware of that, even if I'm not aware of the how, and I want to be with Kazemasa."

Christophe looks at the bodies. "Two against one. Skilled assassins versus holding a sword for the second time in her life. So amazing, I never thought…"

"That's enough."

We both look. Yoshitsune is right by Christophe. "Christophe, enough. The time has come, we cannot wait any longer. My men will handle the rest."

Christophe sighs deeply. "You're right. You've been right this whole time. How could I of been so wrong?"

Yoshitsune shakes his head and puts his hand on Christophe's shoulder. "You did what you thought was best. Now's not the time to wallow."

Yoshitsune looks at me sadly, but kindness still sits in his eyes. "Please. I'm sure this is confusing for you, but everything will be explained." He looks at the bodies. "And perhaps you can explain a few things to us as well."