Broken pillars
… He’s trapped beneath the boulder. He couldn’t feel his body anymore. The realisation that he was dying wasn’t as scary as he’d thought it’d be. He could move his head, shift a little, but not much else.
Were they okay?
… Was Sonam okay? Did she survive? He’d shoved her out of the way and hoped for the best.
He moved his head around, looking for her and- she’s unscathed and unconscious. There were no boulders or rocks around her. There were some scratches on her armour. His sight was blurry. Was there anything else indicating serious injuries?
Blood? No.
Her breathing?… Shallow, from what he could hear.
That’s fine. He could stay a little longer and make sure she was okay.
Amaterasu shone on him and kept him warm.
He’d never known what he’d felt on his deathbed, but he had the absurd urge to laugh. A low murmur of a laugh escaped his lips.
Just a little longer. He’d lived a good life and he could think of all the funny moments in his life in the meantime until Sonam woke up.
A little longer. Just stay awake until she wakes up.
There’s blood on her hands, none of it was hers. Jigme wasn’t breathing. He’d met death with a smile only when he knew she was okay. She laid down beside him. She breathed slowly, a twisted feeling circling around her gut.
… Was this what emptiness felt like?
Emptiness was the goal of her practise. Understanding that there was no independent self, and that there were multiple contributors to what the ‘self’ was. To be empty meant to be empty of something. And she certainly felt empty. She laid there, breathing.
In, out. In, out. In, out.
Her friends were gone, crushed beneath the merciless boulders. Jigme had- he’d pushed her away. Sonam closed her eyes.
…the walls of the canyon started shaking. They looked around frantically. Each of them had their hand on their weapons. The wooden pole of her naginata felt fragile in her grip. Kaito would probably chuckle, and blacksmith Hotaru would yell at her again for breaking it.
Were- she squinted her eyes- were the walls of the canyon moving toward them?
“It’s a rockslide!”
“It’s a trap!”
… did she hear laughter beneath all the moving boulders? Where was it? Where did it come from?
Mikoto’s voice rang in her ears. “Sonam, run!” Where was the laughter coming from? “Move!” There’s a shove at her back. The sounds of the rolling boulders were loud in her ears…
She opened her eyes. Still breathing. No feelings for some reason. She turned her head to look at Jigme’s body, half crushed beneath the boulder. That- that would’ve been her had he not shoved her out of the way.
Even in death, and crushed beneath a boulder, his expression was tranquil. There was a small smile on his lips, like he didn’t just suffer one of the most painful ways to die. Amida Buddha must’ve heard his prayers over the years.
Still no feelings. Nothing. Just empty.
She’s still breathing. Alive. In an attempt to prove him wrong- maybe he didn’t sense it right, he was dying after all- she sensed for her friends’ presences. Mikoto’s gentle warmth, Ashina’s warm storm, Gin’s soft breeze and Torma’s playful wind.
Nothing. She couldn’t sense them. Nothing. They were dead. She felt a dull, repeated thudding beneath her breastbone. Was that meant to be painful?
(Sonam later found out that Ashina survived. Barely so. Her presence was so weak that Sonam knew she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Her healing abilities were subpar. Nothing like Torma’s. Ashina, despite everything, had given her a bloody smile under all the rubble.)
Sonam put a hand over her stomach; he didn’t know. She was supposed to tell him after the mission when they got back home. He’d never know now. She’s alone. She couldn’t do this without them.
The ground was hard beneath her.
Her breaths were heavy, each intake rattling her lungs.
It’s wrong. Everything was wrong. And worst of all, Sonam couldn’t do anything to fix it.
It was so so quiet.
She sat up when familiar groans flew closer to her. The area was small. Only Tenzo, Ashina’s bison, could land beside her. The others hovered over them. Sonam could sense the worry. “You must’ve felt it too, right?” She said and brushed his fur. No tears, still empty. “You felt the bond snap.” Tenzo groaned and nudged his head at her. Echoing groans came from the others as well. Worried and sad.
They were supposed to meet them when they got out of the canyon, and fly out to Congsan to meet up with Torma’s informant, Nightshade, and complete the mission. They must’ve gotten worried when they didn’t come.
She burrowed into his fur. “I’m sorry,” her voice was muffled. “I couldn’t do anything.” Sonam pulled back from his fur and turned back to Jigme. She couldn’t just leave him behind. She couldn’t leave the others behind, either.
“Will you help me?” She turned back to Tenzo. “Move the boulder? I-I can’t leave them behind.”
All life was impermanent. All things died. It was inevitable.
There’s a calm in her mind when she carried the mangled and bruised bodies of her friends. No tears, no anger, calm. Emptiness. It felt like she was dreaming at one point. Waiting to wake up. The lack of reaction scared her. They didn’t deserve something like this.
Fūjin, Torma’s bison, and Raijin, Gin’s bison, helped her move rocks and boulder as she looked for their weapons. She was leaving nothing behind.
Ashina’s naginata had snapped in half. Her katana was damaged, but the sheath was crushed. She found Mikoto’s katana embedded in one side of the canyon wall while she found her damaged sheath on the other side of the canyon. She found the end of Torma’s spear in between some rocks and the front of the spear stuck beneath a boulder.
Fūjin leaned into her side, rumbling at the sight of it and stomping his feet. “I know.” She couldn’t say more than that. “I know.”
Gin’s pair of dao swords were new. He’d gotten them as a gift from Elder Thakpe before he passed. She found them shattered, so broken that Sonam wondered if the blacksmiths could even repair them. His childhood kukri was snapped in half. There was much sentimental value in it.
Raijin rumbled when he saw them, sniffing at it and making a sound that sounded a lot like a wail. Sonam remembered when Gin showed it off for his tenth birthday. He’d been so delighted to show them, and Raijin had showered him with licks. “I know.” It must be painful. She hugged him.
Jigme’s katana was unscathed. No damage outside of some scratches on the sheath. Her fingers trembled as she held it.
In and out, in and out.
She’d gotten it for his twentieth birthday. His favourite colour. Red like his favourite haori. Red like the crusted blood underneath her fingernails. He’d kissed her and taken her out for ramen as a thanks. Then, a month later, he’d given her a new personally inscribed naginata as a gift.
Advance, and reach nirvana, retreat, and find hell.
He’d grinned at her and rubbed at his neck. “You’re great at being terrifying. Everyone of your enemies will know the deepest depths of hell.”
Sonam didn’t remember much after that. She’d flown out to Congsan to meet Nightshade with her friends’ bodies in the bison saddles. That she remembered. They were supposed to kill someone when they got there. She didn’t remember how they wanted the individual killed, but they got killed. She didn't remember that. Sonam came to, covered from head to toe in dried blood, in front of the Kushi temple gate.
She looked down at herself. Red. “What happened?”
Nightshade climbed down from Ume, Mikoto’s bison, and said she’d killed everyone in the house- what house?- and chased down all who tried to run. They thought she was a demon for a moment. Sonam couldn’t fathom being compared to a demon. She wasn’t a demon.
“I-I don’t remember anything.” The idea should provoke a stronger reaction, but it didn’t. She’s calm as she started walking to the temple gates. She needed to tell the others. Nightshade kept their distance from her.
In, out. In, out.
“Sonam?” There’s a hand on her shoulder. “Sonam?” She turned and saw Kaito’s worried face. “Where are the others?” How did she answer that? She heard Mikoto’s delightful giggles in her mind when she looked at him.
… Mikoto grinned when she read her letter. “What did he write to you this time?” She gestured at her to come closer. “Come and see for yourself. His words are too sweet to be shared in the open…”
To her left, Nightshade kept quiet.
“I, uh, I…” her words failed her. What did she tell him? “They’re, uh… they’re not….” It’s so quiet. There’s nothing to drown her thoughts out. Kaito straightened, his muscles strained the shirt he was wearing. “… They’re not here, are they?”
She didn’t want to answer. It would be real if she answered. She didn’t want it to be real. The person she thought she’d spend her life with was dead. Her closest group of friends was dead. The people she loved and cherished the most in the world were dead. Gone.
They slipped right through her fingers.
Her tears fell without her being aware of it. “I, uh,” her voice cracked. “I-I couldn’t do anything.” Kaito hugged her, dried blood and all, held her tightly even when her feet fell out from under her and she sobbed.
He’s so kind. She understood why Mikoto liked him.
“Hey,” he said, tapping her back. “Breathe, remember to breathe.” She couldn’t. Everything was locking up. “I-I can’t.” Sonam shook her head. “I- I c-can’t do this alone.”
“You can,” he said, and Sonam swore she heard other voices intertwining with his. “You can and you will.”
Sonam had never been one to sit still. Ever. Not doing anything for nine months was more difficult than she’d thought.
She meditated more than she’d ever done. Wrote a lot, popular from what Hanjo said. And she wore Jigme’s haori. It brought her a sense of comfort. They never saw her without it.
Sonam knew she wasn’t properly grieving her losses. She wasn’t really grieving at all. This wasn’t the time to grieve. She wouldn’t be able to take care of the child in her state.
Sonam knew of some that would be willing to take care of the child for her. She needed to grieve and be angry before she ever considered being a parent. If they wanted her in their life after all that.
Birth was the second hardest thing in her life. Kaito, ever the stubborn blacksmith and supportive friend, stayed by her side even if she told him to leave. Hanjo worked twice as hard on his duties to have enough time to spend with her and make sure she was okay.
Healer Anjo made the odd off-handed comment, smiling, when they tended to her before the birth.
She was breaking Kaito’s hand into a million pieces before Healer Anjo announced it. “It’s a girl!” The baby cried. A good pair of lungs. Healthy. Alive. Her grip on Kaito’s hand loosened. “What are you going to name her?” Sonam didn’t know her parents. The scrolls they left behind gave the images in her mind some sort of personality, although not much; She saw their spirits one time during obon, but they were practically strangers to her. They’d died in battle when she’d turned a year old. She didn’t know how to do this. She wished they were here. Sister Chōrei said they were some of the kindest people she’d ever met. Sonam would’ve left the child in their care if they were here.
“… Pema Lhatso.” Pema was her mother’s first name and Lhatso was her father’s fourth name.
Healer Anjo bundled the newborn up. “Do you want to hold her?” They looked at her. Sonam did. She wanted to hold her child and look at her, but- “No,” she shook her head, stopping herself from giving in. “I can’t take care of her.” She needed to grieve, be angry, and heal.
Sonam hoped her daughter could forgive her in the future.