Wincing, Haku tried to rise, but she felt an overwhelming pain in her chest, like she was being ran through with a sword. She nearly cried out. On top of that, her arm and shoulder were blossoming with sharp pains.
For a moment she lay there, just breathing. It’s over. Strangely she didn’t fear for herself, but regretted how Ujio would feel when he found out.
I’m sorry…
But she couldn’t give up! Perhaps she could escape? She moved, wincing and gritting her teeth through the pain as she rolled slowly onto her knees.
Breathing in and out, she rose to her feet.
“Ngah!”
Simply standing had never been so difficult in all her life. She took a tentative step forward, then grasped her shoulder with her good hand.
Where’s my sword?
“There’s no point.”
She glanced up toward the voice. He was there. How did he get in here so quietly? He stood on the landing at the top of the stairs. She hadn’t even heard them creak.
“I told you I could not defeat you,” she said, resigned to the fate she knew she would endure now. He wasn’t here to talk. He was here to finish this. “What are you waiting for?”
“Is that all you want?” In his tone she could hear his annoyance. “Haku, The White Feather—legendary dualist—The Feather on the Wind. Just giving up.”
“It’s over.”
“This should have ended with our swords,” he accused her. “Not like this.”
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“Things rarely go the way we wish.”
“Tch!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” He stepped forward, closing the space between them. He grabbed her upper arm—her good one, his grip like steel. She forced herself not to make a face to betray her physical pain.
“Fight!”
“I told you,” Haku said amidst the rain and thunder outside. “It’s over. You’ve won.”
She flailed through the air when he threw her out the window. When she landed, Haku rolled like a ragdoll.
Her arm and shoulder smarted sharply.
“Gah!”
Unable not to cry out at the pain caused by her rough landing, she held herself against the fire in her shoulder and the knives in her chest, her face pressed into the cobbled stones, the cold rainwater soaking her through.
Water splashed as he landed behind her. She didn’t bother to look at him, but then her sword clattered to her side.
“I said fight me!”
The White Feather rolled to her back. “Just end it,” she said through gritted teeth, “or is this how you want The Sword of a Thousand Suns to be known—begging for a duel of swords with his defeated opponents?”
She would have cried out, but the force of his kick to her stomach pushed all the air out of her. The sheer strength of his attack sent her into the air. She rolled when she landed.
“I can’t believe this!” the Sword of a Thousand Suns spat. “In all my days I’ve never fought a duel that was so disappointing.” His steps neared. He was standing over her now. “Do you want to know what makes this so disappointing? I thought that maybe you had the skill to defeat me. Only by defeating opponents as such can I achieve my aims of being the world’s greatest fighter.”
She looked up at him. “Is that all you live”—she coughed—“live for?”
“What am I to do with you, White Feather? This is pathetic.” He wasn’t even looking at her.
It is pathetic, she thought. I thought I might be able to beat him, but I couldn’t.
“You’re one of the last known blade masters—the rest are hiding from me,” he continued. “This feels… hollow.” He made a fist. “I need more!”
She would not beg for her life. She would never beg for such a thing. Her dignity wouldn’t allow it, but perhaps she could use his ambitions—not against him, but as a sort of ally for a time, in payment for a future promise.
He doesn’t even care about this war.
“Ujiwara…” she croaked. He looked down at her, his gaze, though completely hidden behind his mask, was intent upon her face. She could sense the surprise behind that hideous thing.
“Ah, so you do know my name.” He looked at her for a long time. Finally, he said, “What is it, Haku?”