The Sword of Kaigen

“‘You realize that at least half the stuff he tells you isn’t even true.’ Kwang looked around at the three Takayubi boys. ‘It’s propaganda.’

‘Propaganda?’ Mamoru had only heard the word used a few times before. People said that propaganda was what the Ranganese Union used to trick its uneducated citizens into fighting its battles. It was a distinctly Ranganese tactic. Kaigen didn’t use propaganda. Everyone knew that.”

In this passage, Chul-hee reveals to Mamoru that almost everything they’ve learned is lies and propaganda intended to keep the warrior families of Shirojima under control and loyal to the Emperor. He goes on to call the warrior families tools and “cannon fodder” (45). This revelation shocks Mamoru to his core, calling into question everything he knows about truth, the reality of the world, and his purpose in it. Additionally, when he asserts that “everyone” knows that “Kaigen didn’t use propaganda,” Wang injects a heavy note of irony into the narrative, for this very assertion stands as evidence of the empire’s manipulative tactics of misinformation.

“When Mamoru’s temper got the best of him, his father liked to blame it on Kaa-chan. Her clan were a wrathful, passionate lot, born of sea spray and crashing waves. Neither the most powerful nor the most skilled of Kaigen’s warrior houses, the Tsusanos had made their name on the battlefield with their superhuman spirit and fury. It was said that the raw power of a true Tsusano was as changeable and devastating as a coastal storm.

But Mamoru was not a Tsusano. He was a Matsuda. And Matsudas were not made of storms. They were ice-cold in their calculations and unyielding in their integrity.”

Mamoru feels caught between his dual lineage as both a Matsuda and a Tsusano. Ironically, even as his mother fears that he is too much like his father, Mamoru fears that he is not enough like his father. Echoing the theme of The Tension between Obedience and Purpose, Mamoru feels that it is his duty to uphold the legacy of the Matsuda family. However, following Chul-hee’s revelations, he has begun to question his purpose and the value of his family name.

“It didn’t seem to matter whether the skeleton belonged to a man or a woman, a Kaigenese pilot or a Yammanka one. A warrior had died here, and Hibiki Sensei had lied about it. The whole village had lied about it.”

Up to this point, Mamoru has refused to believe Chul-hee’s accusations and tries to convince himself that Chul-hee is the one who is lying. However, once he sees the dead pilot in the plane, he is forced to confront the truth. Shirojima custom maintains the absolute dignity of a warrior’s sacrifice, and he reasons that if his teachers would lie about the origins of this pilot, then everything else they say might be a lie as well.

“Robin was a strong fighter, but she knew better than anyone that it only took one decisively-placed needle to fell a giant. There were some fights you could only win by being more ruthless than your opponent. One moment of hesitation or gentleness against a truly dangerous opponent would cost Robin his life. That light would go out. The thought created a frantic, irrepressible panic in Misaki.”

Misaki recalls her friendship with Robin and his idealistic views of the world. Robin’s compassionate nature and refusal to kill inspire Misaki to adopt her own personal moral code, and she vows to protect her loved ones no matter the cost, especially when they cannot protect themselves or refuse to do so. This code is the single motivation that keeps her moving during the Ranganese attack.

“Listen, son… when I was your age, I had to face truths that seemed to break the world. That’s what happens when you come into contact with people who aren’t quite like you. You learn over time that the world isn’t broken. It’s just… got more pieces to it than you thought. They all fit together, just maybe not the way you pictured when you were young.”

In a rare moment of connection between Misaki and her son, she makes oblique references to her difficult past to help him navigate his own internal struggle with disillusionment. When she advises him to listen and learn the truth about the world and come to his own conclusions, her words support and encourage Mamoru’s questioning nature rather than negating his experience. Emboldened to rely upon his own judgment, Mamoru gains the confidence to confront Takeru and defy the cultural rule that demands unquestioning obedience to authority figures.

“A warrior’s sword isn’t made of ice or metal. It is his soul, his focus, his conviction. That is what makes a Whispering Blade and it’s why you continuously fail to produce one. […] The Empire depends on us to be stronger than doubt, stronger than fear. As long as we are not broken, the Sword of Kaigen will not break, and the Empire will stand.”

In this passage, Takeru uses the symbolism of the sword to represent his and Mamoru’s purpose in society. Takeru has been conditioned to believe that his entire purpose is built upon honor as expressed through unquestioning obedience and a willingness to lay down his life for the Empire. He insists that it does not matter whether the Empire tells him the truth or spreads propaganda, as his purpose remains the same either way.

“Now was the time to look down in deference and shame. Instead, she stood and looked up, directly into Takeru’s eyes. In a breath, the rage of fifteen years filled her chest, lifting her chin and pulling her shoulders back.

‘I’m taking the boys.’”

Like Mamoru, Misaki has also been conditioned to conform to a culture of obedience. However, with the threat of attack and her children’s lives at stake, she disobeys Takeru for the first time, rediscovering her purpose as both a mother and a fighter in her own right. This moment represents an important development in the novel’s exploration of The Tension between Obedience and Purpose, and as Misaki takes charge of her own life once more, her sense of personal power and purpose intensifies.

“Yet, before their disbelieving eyes, the clouds swirled together and formed a funnel above the shore. Even though Misaki knew it was human fonya, even though she did not believe in sky gods, it looked for all the world like the dark finger of a god, extending earthward.”

The arrival of a strange tornado formed by fonyakalu marks the start of the foreshadowed Ranganese attack and brings many deeper philosophical issues to a head in the space of a few heated moments as all of the characters find themselves forced to rely on their own judgment and make life-or-death choices—some of which inspire a whole new range of regrets.

“Uncle Takashi’s fury intertwined with Tou-sama’s cold precision to form a new creature, long enough to cover half the pass. It was the teeth of winter. It was poetry, it was God in water.

The Matsuda Dragon reared up to tower over its enemies, ice shard eyes flashing with power beyond simple jiya. […] The fonyakalu pulled up short. These could create tornadoes, but even they faltered when faced with a god.”

In the midst of the fighting, the two Matsuda brothers, Takashi and Takeru, unleash their strongest technique, shocking even the powerful Ranganese with their god-like ability. This moment highlights Takashi’s power and Takeru’s control, as well as the warrior legacy of the Matsuda family, which Mamoru is sworn to uphold. The epic tone of the descriptions conveys the fantastical nature of the author’s world-building and invokes the aesthetic of samurai movies in which the protagonists use their skills to face overwhelming odds.

“After all, a lady wouldn’t have been able to slice a man’s legs out from under him and then plunge a blade into his mouth when he opened it to scream. A mother wouldn’t have been able to cut a young woman’s head from her shoulders. A human being wouldn’t have been able to turn from their dismembered corpses without a single pang of guilt.

Thank the Gods she was a monster.”

Upon recalling that Koli once called her “more sword than anything else” (285), Misaki now extends that metaphor and calls herself a monster. She believes that like a sword, she is a thing made only to kill. Although she claims to be grateful because her skills allow her to protect her family, she also expresses deep guilt, shame, and self-loathing, and her thoughts imply that she must yet undergo an internal reckoning and come to terms with her past.

“A decade later, a fifteen-year-old Hiroshi would become known as the youngest swordsman ever to master the Whispering Blade. What the world would never know, was that he was the second youngest.

By the time the Ranganese soldier registered the blood-red flash of ice, it had already passed through his body. The sword was pure Matsuda—half Takayubi snow, half Mamoru’s own blood—and it cut through the dragon killer like he was no more than air.”

The scene of Mamoru’s death is both climactic and emotionally devastating. In the early chapters, Mamoru disappointed his father with his inability to master the Whispering Blade. Now, desperate to protect his village and his family, Mamoru taps into untouched power and succeeds. Although no one will ever know, upon his death, he becomes the youngest Matsuda to master the technique and fulfills the purpose contained in his name.

“Of course, a simple ‘you need to leave; wouldn’t be good enough for Robin. If she wanted him to walk away, she had to wound him, make herself the enemy. That way he could steel himself against her and overcome. Robin could always overcome an enemy; he had just never been good with guilt.”

In another flashback, Misaki recalls the moment when she sacrificed her love for Robin in order to fulfill her obligations to her family. She obeys her father’s order to marry Takeru despite her own wishes to the contrary, and she hurts the man she loves in the process, deepening her lifelong regret. Crucially, she feels that Takeru’s inability to protect Mamoru is a betrayal of that sacrifice.

“One didn’t need to be a fina to understand that regret was like poison to the spirits of the dead. A spirit who regretted what he hadn’t accomplished in life would be unable to pass into the peace of the Laaxara. […] And it was the souls of those who died young, in the midst of hope, unfinished business, and unfulfilled potential who were in most danger.”

It is important to note the meaning and significance of the local Ryuhon Falleya religion that the people of Takayubi follow. This passage therefore provides crucial exposition that provides a framework for the cruelty of Colonel Song’s refusal to provide proper burial rites for the dead. This explanation of the villagers’ beliefs also illuminates the depths of Misaki’s terror at the thought that her regrets might be tying Mamoru’s spirit to the earth.

“In the face of the horrible revelation, the women of Takayubi were stronger than she would have anticipated. For all their softness and demureness, these noblewomen were well-educated, versed in Kaigenese poetry, history, and philosophy. They may have grown up in a culture of denial, but when the bloody truth stared them full in the face, they were more than capable of comprehending it. They were more than capable of anger.”

Misaki has always looked down on the women of Takayubi because they are isolated and oblivious to the harsh realities that exist beyond their homes. She has feared that their sheltered lifestyles would render them incapable of facing the truth about their place in Kaigenese society. However, following the Ranganese attack and Colonel Song’s callous treatment of their sacrifices, these women prove to be far more intelligent and strong-willed than Misaki could have guessed, and she is forced to reevaluate her community and her role within it as a result.

“Who says that children belong to their fathers? We carry them, we nourish them inside us, we bring them into the world, we do all the work in raising them. Then these men—these men think they can just take them and kill them? […] What claim does that Ranganese bastard have to a child from your womb? What right do any of them have? As much as Ryota was Dai’s, he was yours. As much as Mamoru was Takeru’s, he was mine. He was mine!”

This scene is significant because it highlights Hyori’s trauma and the ruinous consequences of war and because Misaki has a sudden breakthrough in her understanding of her own life. Throughout the novel, Misaki bitterly asserts that her sons do not belong to her, using this belief as an excuse to maintain a certain distance from them. Now, however, she realizes that her sons are equally hers to raise, love, and protect, and this new thought represents a crucial turning point in her quest of Seeking Redemption to Silence Regrets.

“Since I was a child, using it to escape my father’s wrath, I have used it to hide. When it is too much to be a man, I am the mountain. I have done this my whole life—when there was a truth I didn’t want to acknowledge, a decision I didn’t want to face, a pain I didn’t want to endure. It is easier to enter a state in which I am spared human emotions like regret, or shame, or love.”

Takeru’s vulnerable admission occurs when Misaki challenges him to a duel. For the first time, Misaki becomes privy to Takeru’s true character and is made to understand that many of his flaws stem from his abusive childhood and his inability to deal with painful emotions. This revelation significantly shifts her perceptions of the long years of her troubled marriage.

“So many years, he had avoided touching this porcelain doll he had been given for fear of breaking her. He hadn’t wanted to see this beautiful, strange woman crumble the way his mother had. Somehow, he had broken her anyway, but she hadn’t broken quietly like porcelain. She had broken like black glass and ice—jagged and more dangerous than ever.”

The novel shifts from Misaki’s perspective to Takeru’s, providing an intimate glance into his internal thoughts and motivations. This stylistic shift allows for a new understanding of his actions, particularly his seeming disregard for Misaki over the years. The passage also highlights how thoroughly Takeru has misunderstood the woman he married, and his mournful thoughts reflect his acknowledgment of the damage he has done.

“‘I accept,’ he said and for once, his voice was full—overflowing with gratitude, and strength, and the determined bite of winter. And Misaki somehow understood why he had given her that last opening. If she truly wanted to kill him, then he was alone. He was willing to stand and fight, but he would rather die than do it alone. It wasn’t just the challenge of responsibility he was accepting as his hand touched hers; he was accepting her.”

In the final moments of their duel, Misaki and Takeru reach a new level of understanding and acceptance for each other, and this new connection dramatically shifts their relationship, foreshadowing an eventual resolution of Misaki’s internal conflict and her path toward hope and redemption.

“Misaki and Takeru’s fight hadn’t magically imbued them with love and understanding. It didn’t heal the pain of Mamoru’s absence. But it was something, like the beginnings of a scab. It was the first sign that things could get better.”

The fight between Misaki and Takeru is one of the most significant moments in the entire novel, as it brings their individual struggles to the surface and manifests their simmering internal conflicts in the form of a physical battle. The violent interaction forces them to communicate with honesty and vulnerability. This passage indicates that although the fight does not magically make them love each other, it does offer them a moment of healing and renewed hope for the future.

“It had probably been the wrong thing to say, but Misaki found herself struggling not to smile. She wondered if Takeru was aware that he had never been more attractive. It had never properly occurred to her before that moment, but perhaps the thing she found most attractive in men had never been power. It had never been danger. It was bravery.”

For the first time, Takeru stands up to authority and defends both his own honor and the honor of the village. He thus proves that he is willing to do the work that Misaki demands of him, and the scene stands as his answer to the issue of Seeking Redemption to Silence Regrets. Ironically, this is the first time in 15 years of marriage that Misaki finds him attractive, and the nature of her character is revealed as Takeru’s increased maturity causes her to feel a romantic interest that she has never felt toward her husband before.

“Hyori lay on her side atop one of Yukino Dai’s kimono that she had recovered from her old home, one hand curled into the fabric. Takenagi stuck through her body, its silvery blade protruding from her back.

She was dead.”

Although Hyori is a minor character, the trauma she suffers during and after the Ranganese attack allows the author to deliver a range of powerful statements about the social stigma that follows those who experience sexual assault and rape. Bound by the strictures of her culture, she cannot abide the traumatic aftermath of becoming pregnant due to a sexual assault by a Ranganese soldier. Although she ultimately decides against infanticide, she still cannot live with the perception of shame and ruin. Her suicide deeply affects Misaki and highlights the ruinous consequences of war.

“Robin Thundyil knelt on a cushion at the low sitting room table opposite Takeru.

They were having tea.

Misaki’s world simultaneously tore apart and crashed in on itself. A dizzying, rending tear opened between her most vivid memories and the breathing reality of the scene before her.”

The final chapter focuses on Misaki’s recovery and her reunion with her former lover. In this moment, when Misaki sees Robin for the first time since she married Takeru, she finally addresses many of the unhealed wounds from her past, acknowledging that she still loves him after all this time. Faced with this realization, she discovers that by honoring her past and setting aside her regrets, she can focus more wholeheartedly on the life she has chosen and the future she has vowed to build with her husband.

“‘What if it all happens again?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘What if I can’t protect Daniel?’

Misaki pressed her lips together for a moment before answering. ‘Maybe you can’t.’

‘How you live with that?’ Robin looked up at her. ‘How did you do it? All of you… how did you do it?’

‘There is no “how,” Robin,’ Misaki sighed. ‘It’s not a duel or a street fight. There’s no winning technique to get through it okay, no ice that can protect you from it, no fire that can burn it away.’”

In this scene, Robin demands to know how Misaki and the others can live with the pain and regret of so much loss. At first, Misaki does not believe that there is an answer. She does not know how she has remained strong through the trauma she has endured, and in this moment, Robin’s anguished question remains in the air between them. Significantly, Misaki later returns to this question in the last two pages of the novel with her contemplations on the nature of love, offering an optimistic resolution to the theme of Seeking Redemption to Silence Regrets.