Page 82 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

One pure, wordless note resounds in my ears. It’s soprano—a note that’s shockingly human yet so clear and crisp, I think it must be an angel. Goose bumps rise and fall on my flesh, making me aware of every inch of my skin.

Looking around, I almost cry out. Everything in Akira’s barrack is as it was, but for the first time in my life, I see. Not with my eyes, but beyond. Oda, the koi fish, the bonsai trees, the tapestries—I know their truest essence, and it’s glorious. I know their most important characteristics, the truth of what makes them what they are, and it is glorious. The sensation builds. I feel Oda’s honorable peace embedded in the heart of every samurai. I hear the delightful gurgle of bubbles from the koi fish and feel the sublime fluidity of water passing through their inner chambers. I see every shiny, feathery leaf on the bonsai trees, every intricate layer of cork bark, every tentacled and tangled root coiled in the dirt.

In my hand, the deer stares at me. Its gaze holds pure knowledge, as though it sees all and accepts all and knows all. I never want to let it go.

A crow of triumphant laughter fills my ears. It’s Akira, but his voice has changed. It’s airy and whistly and has the pure sine wave of a flute. Wind rushes around me and playfully tousles my hair.

I am Nameless, Faceless. I am fleet foot, fire spirit, fearsome foe! No more sleeping in this horrid bed. No more sleeping, ever. No more wearing skin and a cage of bones. No more eating human swill. I shall present myself to the creator gods and beg their forgiveness and I shall…I shall go home.

I am free.

“Akira-sama?” I ask. I hold out my hands and wind rushes through them, streaming through my fingers and pushing my hair back from my face. It’s like standing in the power and might of a wave as it crests and thunders through you. The wind spins tighter and tighter around me, but it’s tender and playful. It doesn’t slash or claw. It soothes and whispers.

Kansha shimasu, Violet Aratani, he says. You have helped a god. You served an immortal, just as your family did generations ago. Centuries from now, I shall remember your face, just as you gave me a face to be worshipped by. Serve me. Make icons of me so I may be remembered, and I may be venerated. And, when you are ready, ask your divine favor of me, and it shall be granted. The wind wraps silkily around me and winds around my legs like a cat. I think I shall miss you.

“I’ll miss you, too, Akira-sama,” I whisper.

The wind whips up again. It dashes about the barrack and encircles Akira’s treasures. The basin with the koi fish, which joyfully twitch their whiskers. Oda, who nods fiercely at me as he whirls past within the mirror. The bonsai trees, the tapestries, the screens. Then, in one tremendous roar, it disappears into the box.

The lid snaps shut. The box disappears. Only a metal cot and straw tick mattress remain. I hear one final parting from Akira—

Tell Ren everything is hunky-dory.

And I know it in the depths of my soul—Akira is free.

Akira is gone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ren

I drive forward.

Another sound reaches me. I can’t place this one—it’s like thunder or a rockslide. Comes from behind me. The ground tremors for a moment and suddenly, a huge gust of wind courses down the firebreak and then up to the sky. Reminds me of…an exhale.

The light changes, moonlight peeking through the clouds, and I look up. The shadow over the camp contracts, grows smaller. Then there’s a sudden red firework of light. It splits the sky. Then it’s gone entirely.

There won’t be a fire tonight.

Or at least, not one from Akira.

But the one inside me is glowing hotter than ever.

I charge toward the police post. Guards have fired over our heads. I’m not stupid—it’s a warning. Then I spy Kai. The car has been abandoned, but he’s crouched next to it, reaching inside to mess with the gears so it can push forward again. Uncanniness comes over me. I’ve seen him this way tons of times before, bent over Delilah outside his house. Bullets are flying but here he is, working on a car. I run up to him, breathless and sweaty. A string of Spanish-laced profanity falls from his lips in a furious tirade.

“Maybe you should be a mechanic after all, Tiger,” I call, coming to his side. He looks up, sees it’s me, and smiles, even amid the deadly chaos.

“Right?” he asks triumphantly. “Help me push this sweetheart into the bastards. For Lila!”

“Disperse!” the officer blares again into the loudspeaker. A few men run off, but most stay, undeterred. “We will fire. I repeat, we will fire.”

I go around to the other side of the car and anchor my hands on its cold, metallic sides. Then Kai shifts the car into neutral. I look up.

Almost in slow motion, I see their rifles rise. They are fingers of death, ready to blast us away. Everything is still so slow. Everything but my mind. It grabs at every thought in the world, as though these are my last minutes. Gotta atone or forgive, I’m not sure, maybe both. Then all those scattershot thoughts become one.

Violet.

Chapter Twenty-Nine