The battlefield disappeared
Not suddenly but like mist retreating from dawn
The bone sword remained in his hand cold and silent as if waiting for permission to drink again
Shigure found himself walking through a quiet village
Wooden houses with paper windows gentle lamps flickering under the eaves and smoke rising from humble chimneys
Children ran past him chasing each other barefoot their laughter pure untouched
He paused
For a moment he let himself believe this might be peace
But then the rain started
No thunder no storm just a soft cold drizzle
The kind that seeps into your skin and finds the things you've hidden
People looked at him but didn't speak
Their smiles turned to concern then fear then silence
As he passed petals wilted
Wood darkened
And puddles formed without a sound
He saw his reflection in one of them
Eyes that weren't his
Or maybe they were now
"Why does it always follow you" asked a voice from the side
An old man sat beneath the awning of a tea house
Long beard white as rice paper eyes blind but piercing
"The rain?" Shigure asked
"No" the man replied "Regret"
Shigure stopped walking
He wanted to answer
But the words felt too heavy
"Sit" the man said "Tea tastes better when you share it with silence"
He sat across from him
They didn't speak
The rain did
Every drop a memory
Every ripple in the puddle a crack in his mask
At last the old man poured him a cup
And said "You stink of old blood and newer shame"
Shigure didn't deny it
He drank
It tasted of smoke and fire
The old man smiled sadly "I made that blend for warriors who survived the wrong battles"
Shigure set the cup down
"Then why give it to me"
"Because you still want to be clean"
"I don't know what I want anymore"
"Yes you do" the old man whispered "You want someone to say it wasn't your fault"
Shigure flinched
A child bumped into his leg and looked up at him
Her eyes were familiar
Terribly familiar
He froze
The girl looked confused "Why're you crying mister"
"I don't know" he whispered
But he did
She looked just like the one he left behind in the burning house
She smiled and ran off into the fog
Shigure stood and followed slowly his sword dragging behind him
The old man didn't stop him
Didn't say goodbye
He just sipped his tea and looked up into the rain
As if listening to something Shigure could no longer hear
In the distance someone was singing
It was the girl's voice
But the words weren't Japanese or anything from this world
They were older
Like lullabies hummed in the mouths of ghosts
Shigure turned a corner
And found no one
Just a mirror
Another one
This time it didn't show him
It showed her
The girl
Smiling
Burning
Crying
And then gone
The sword in his hand pulsed
The rain grew colder
And Shigure fell to his knees again
The mirror didn't break
It simply wept with him