There's no question that this was where Kubo's talent lay, not in mastery of the sword or bow, though he may become great at those in time. He'd been glad to realize that lately, to put on the mantle of bard and think about more ways that he could use his skills to support the Legion and vanquish evil, instead of wishing that his mother and father had been able to teach him their more traditional forms of heroing.

He didn't manage to laugh at her explanation, though he didn't look sadder, either. He processed the information carefully, looking down at his shamisen. He'd wondered, occasionally, if there could have been a story where Mother and Father had survived the adventure and, even in their cursed states, stayed with him. Now he knew that story was never possible, no matter what he might have done differently, and it was neither comforting nor sad, simply a story that never could exist.

"I was glad I got to see you again no matter what the circumstances were," he said, accepting her explanation. She'd done what she thought was best in a hard story. Maybe it was even the right thing to do. He couldn't fault her. "But I'm also glad I got to know your whole soul better, Mother." He smiled at her, wide, with all the love and admiration he could feel. "I knew you were brave and strong already, but I was happy I got to be part of that story with you, and . . . and know you better by the end."

He reached for her hand again. All the times he'd thought fondly of his mother for her patience and gentle kindness in their cave home, and for her ferocity and determination on their adventure, and he'd never been able to tell her just how greatly he admired all of these things in her. It was too wonderful just to be able to say these things, and know she wasn't going to disappear soon after he said it.