(Perspective of Kage - Three months ago)

  I stood before the newly dug graves. It wasn't dirt my feet were sinking into, but sticky mud, a gray paste mixed with the ashes of homes and the bones of those we couldn't save. The ground beneath my shoes pulsed with the coldness of death. "I wonder... will I too, one day, be cold mud beside these graves?" I whispered, the metallic taste of ash filling my mouth.

  "What are you doing here?" I looked behind me. It was Morito. His scent was suffocating... a mix of acid rain, stale sweat, and rusted iron. Only a few days had passed since the holocaust of our gods, but the wrinkles around his eyes looked as if they had been carved by a chisel of despair.

  I said without looking at him, my eyes fixed on the dark pits: "I want to make a wish, Ryu." He replied with a coldness resembling the sound of a stone falling into a well: "I am not a genie of wishes. I am just a gravedigger now."

  I smiled bitterly, and looked up at the gray sky that was raining blackness: "If one day I die... I don't want you to bury me here. Do not place this heavy, suffocating mud upon my chest." "I want you to burn me... so I can soar as ash in a vast sky. I want to become dust scattered by the wind, not mud trampled by feet."

  He gave me that strange look. A look that does not examine the body, but weighs the soul. The same look given to me by that woman who decided to let me live, taking the weight of death upon herself for my sake. He wiped the black rain from his face with his rough hand and said: "Come on... you need to be present. The starving herd is waiting."

  I placed my hand on my chest. Is my heart fluttering as I remember him? No... for I didn't love him in that way. But... did he love me in that way? I will never know. The truth was buried under the ashes, and the words died in the throats.

  I returned to what we would call our "new homeland." It was not a homeland. It was an open wound in the earth. Dilapidated huts assembled from the remains of charred trees, with the stench of rot and dampness assaulting the noses. I looked at the burnt wood, and heard a symphony of muffled weeping. The sound of children sobbing, tearing through the stillness of the night, and the coughing of the elderly choking on the smoke.

  And there... amidst this absolute ugliness. Stood Senju Muramasa. The sacred sword. The purest, whitest sword. It was embedded in a mound of ash, alone, gleaming with a coldness that provoked the eyes. Its pristine whiteness amidst the blackness was not a sign of purity, but a sign of loneliness. For the first time in history... it had become an orphan. The last two heirs had died. The bloodline was severed. I looked at the distorted reflection of my face on its polished white blade. I did not see a leader... I saw a woman tainted by survival.

  "Maru..." I whispered, anger boiling in my chest more than sorrow. Why did you make that choice? Why did you decide to burn yourself to death? You, whose mother sacrificed her life to protect him... you burn her gift? Did you decide to become warm ash to soar in the sky and leave us? You took the last "fire" and "warmth" with you... and left us "cold" and "frost." Why did you leave this burden on me? Why did you decide to die as a coward? Killing yourself is not honor, Maru. It is not loyalty. It is an escape. You escaped the pain, and left me to drown in it alone. I will never forgive you.

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  I walked and walked until nightfall, fleeing from the whiteness of the sword that judged me with its silence. I reached a high plateau and sat on a cold rock, beneath a starless black sky, drizzling a mist that resembled dirty tears.

  Ryu sat beside me. He was heavy, and his presence filled the space like an additional layer of darkness. The moment he sat down, I felt my fortresses collapse. The tears fell. Hot, salty, burning my cold cheeks, mixing with the muddy rain on my face. "Why?" I screamed in a choked voice. "Why did he choose death? Am I not right in front of him?" "I am still here! I am still alive! Was I transparent to him?" "Was I the only one who saw hope?" "Now I am alone again... alone, waiting for my turn in the slaughterhouse."

  Ryu looked at me. His dragon eyes were as dark as the ocean floor. He did not console me. He did not wipe my tears. He said, in a voice like the snapping of dry branches: "Yes... you are alone." "But they..." He gestured with his head toward the miserable camp below, where faint fires danced. "...are not alone." "For they have you."

  He took a handful of the wet ash in his hand, rubbed it between his fingers until it became black mud, then looked at me and said: "Cry every night under the moon, Kage. Cry until your soul vomits sorrow. Scream, tear your clothes, curse the gods." "But... when the sun rises..." His face drew closer to mine, and I saw both cruelty and mercy in his eyes: "Smile an ugly smile."

  "A beautiful smile is for happy hearts, for the truthful." "As for you... you must smile a fake smile. A smile that splits your face wide open, a smile that lifts the corners of your mouth in spite of the pain." "It will be ugly... because it is a mask of mud over a dead face. But it is the only smile that will save them." "Be ugly... so they can live in the beauty of your lie."

  I looked at him. Disgust mixing with respect in my heart. "You..." "You are despicable." He said indifferently, wiping the rain from his face with his ash-stained hand: "I know." "Bastard." "I know that as well. I sold everything to live." "Scumbag." "Every day I look in the mirror and see a scumbag staring back at me." "And kind..." He stopped. He looked at me sharply, as if I had cursed him. "That is a lie." "Tender..." He fell silent. He did not answer. Only the sound of the rain filled the void between us.

  I said, wiping my face with my trembling hand, feeling the filth of the mud and tears on my skin: "If you... with all this ugliness... did not run away." "How... how could I run away?" "I want to run away, Ryu. I want to be selfish, just for once. I want to follow Maru."

  He looked at the black sky and said: "We no longer have the luxury of selfishness." "We are the trash that remained... to build the world anew."

  I closed my eyes. I breathed in the air saturated with the stench of death. Then... I tried. I lifted the corners of my mouth. I felt my facial muscles cracking, as if I were moving stiffened skin, as if I were tearing my flesh to form an expression. It was painful. It was heavy. It was a twisted, cold, and artificial smile. It was an "ugly smile" as he had asked. But it was... my new shield.