Strangely, no part of the heart was connected to the dragon. And yet, somehow, it was still right there, still beating.
“That’s . . . the dragon’s heart?” I uttered.
Could you even really call it a heart? It was moving like its own living thing apart from the rest of the dragon’s body. It looked alive, unnaturally so, with no other organs surrounding it. On top of that, there was a sword running through it even though it continued to beat. It was a silver blade with a golden hilt and a black handle. Having lived most of my life in my other home of Japan I knew it to be Japanese.
“A katana?” I uttered. “How?”
Was this what kept the dragon’s heart beating? But that would mean the person who put it here . . .
At that point the dragon roared.
“Usato! What are you doing?!” cried Amako.
There wasn’t any time to think. Amako’s voice shunted me back to the present. I shoved my hand in through the open cut along the dragon’s chest and grabbed hold of the katana. I could feel immediately that it was no replica. This was the genuine article. I took a short breath, then with all the energy I had left in me I ripped the sword free. Surprisingly, it came out smoothly. The roaring dragon suddenly stopped.
“No, it can’t be,” it uttered. “I haven’t destroyed anything yet. Haven’t killed anything. Have I fallen to a hero, again?”
We watched as the dragon’s body quickly turned to ashes. It was as if the chains binding it to this world were now free. It was dissolving the way it had always meant to.
“I have been . . . used . . .” uttered the dragon.
Those were its last words. Its body broke down and crumbled, leaving only a pile of ashes. I sat down right there where I stood, overcome with a feeling of relief.
“Is that it?” I asked, incredulous. “Did we get it?”
“You did it, Usato!” cried Amako on my back, her hands wrapped tightly around me.
I looked around. Aruku and Blurin were both okay too.
“We did it,” I muttered.
But as I looked down at the katana in my hands, it wasn’t the joy of victory that filled me. Instead, I was filled with questions about the hero who had last fought the dragon.
“What was the last hero thinking when he stabbed this into the dragon’s heart?”
The sword was about forty centimeters long. It was, technically speaking, a wakizashi. A Japanese short sword. But the details of the sword weren’t important. What bothered me was that the moment I pulled it free, the dragon turned to dust.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
In the notebook I’d read, the hero thrust the sword into the dragon’s heart to defeat it. But from what we’d seen until now, and the fact that the sword was still impaled in the dragon’s heart, the hero had done more than just “defeat” the dragon.
“In any case, we still killed it in the end,” I muttered.
We’d had no choice, but nonetheless the truth of what had happened was undeniable. We had taken the dragon’s life. I didn’t feel good about it.
“No, you’re wrong, Usato,” said Amako.
“Huh?”
“You didn’t kill it,” she stated. “At least, I don’t feel like you did. I think it’s more accurate to say that you . . . released it.”
I chuckled.
“Thanks, Amako,” I said.
I released it.
I felt glad for Amako’s words, and I gave her a pat on the head. She looked embarrassed and turned her head away from me, but she was smiling too. A mere moment later, however, her features hardened.
“Usato,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.
Defeating the dragon didn’t mean this was all over. None of this would be over until we faced the person who caused all of this chaos.
“Take me to her, Amako,” I said.
It was time to end this. The future Amako had foreseen lingered over us, growing closer with every moment. I looked up at what remained of the manor as Amako’s premonition swirled at the back of my mind. I was exhausted, but I stood to my feet. I knew there was still one last job to do before this day was through.