Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince

by Noriko Ogiwara

  “Who would’ve guessed, Ousu, that our positions would change so drastically in such a short time,” he said.

  “How glad I am to see you alive,” Oguna said. His expression shone with warmth, but he noticed immediately that the prince’s gaze held no trace of affection.

  “You too appear to have survived. How often I regretted leaving you behind, yet it seems that the arrow I loosed at the enemy was fated to return, this time aimed at me.”

  Oguna had never seen the prince look this way before. The man he had known had always been cheerful with dancing eyes. But Oguna was now painfully aware that the prince reserved that face only for those under his protection. When it came to his enemies, the prince sharpened tooth and claw more coldly than any beast. Oguna’s heart sank. “I came to prevent war,” he said. “The emperor has sent me to ask if there is not some way to reconcile. He is willing to overlook this rebellion and to ensure that no dishonor comes to your name. Think how much better it will be for Mino if we can avert this war. Please consider his offer. Tell me your conditions and I will gladly convey them to the emperor.”

  The prince laughed scornfully. “And you actually believed those honeyed words? How I pity you for your foolishness. Do you still not understand how the royal family works? If my father had even a drop of such feeling in his body, I would never have gone to this extreme. My father? Care about me, his heir? What a joke! All he wants is to obtain eternal youth so that he has no need of any heirs.”

  “But the emperor said—”

  Prince Oh-usu cut him off. “Enough. I now know what you came to tell me. This, then, is my answer. No more of this convoluted scheming. Tell him I will end it here and now by killing you.”

  “Prince Oh-usu.” The blood drained from Oguna’s face.

  “You should have died,” the prince said bitterly. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I think I always hoped in my heart that you would die a noble death in my stead. Because if you did, I could still think of you as you, regardless of your birth or lineage. You would have continued to shine gloriously in my memory. But instead you shamelessly survived and so revealed your parentage. You, yourself, have proved to all that you are the unthinkable, obscene offspring of my father. Not only that, but you became his pawn, and as such you dare to stand before me once again.”

  Oguna froze. The prince’s words robbed the warmth from his body more completely than the cold wind that whistled through the arbor.

  “And as if that were not enough,” the prince continued, “you used my name, and posing as me, led a punitive force against me. Considering your birth, you are surprisingly devoid of shame. What a laugh that it was I who taught you how to be my double. So, now you will become the heir. That’s not a bad idea, is it? I can tell what my father is thinking. If you kill me, he won’t need to worry about an heir because he can put you on the throne in my stead. But I will not let him.”

  Oguna felt himself reeling inside. “All I wanted was to stop this war!” he shouted. “That’s all I care about. If that’s possible then I don’t care if you kill me or not. Please, please, I beg of you. Think. If you kill me now, here, the entire army of Mahoroba will sweep through Mino like an avalanche. Please, just for now, stay your hand.”

  “I cannot,” the prince said flatly, drawing his sword from its sheath. “I was ready for war from the beginning. And I can’t stand to see you alive for one more second.”

  As he backed away Oguna ignored the naked blade before him and instead kept his gaze fixed on the prince’s face. To his sorrow the prince’s eyes were like his sword—offering nothing but pale, cold death. With the last flicker of hope fading away, Oguna pleaded once more. “Is there really no possibility of reconciliation?”

  “Perhaps, when the victory is ours. But it will make no difference to you.”

  Without even swinging his sword, the prince had sliced Oguna’s heart in two. Yet Oguna’s body still evaded the blade, step by step, as the two circled counterclockwise around the arbor.

  “You should unsheathe your sword. I trained you to use it. It doesn’t feel right to cut down a defenseless man. Come. Show me what you’ve learned from me.”

  Until then, Oguna had not thought of the Sword as a weapon. Startled, he grasped the sheath with his left hand, but there was no way he could draw that blade. “I can’t.”

  “Even when you have such a magnificent sword as that?” The prince glanced at the jeweled hilt and said, “It looks as grand as the legendary sword they say is kept in the shrine.”

  “It is the Sword from the shrine,” Oguna said, somewhat recklessly.

  To Oguna’s surprise, Prince Oh-usu began to laugh. But his laughter had an even crueler edge to it than before. “Ah, now I see. This is my aunt, the Itsuki no Miya’s doing. Was there ever a more degraded priestess? How deeply must she sin before she’s satisfied?”

  Oguna felt something stir inside him and looked at the prince as if for the first time. “You don’t know. You don’t know what happened at Itsuse or why I was made to bear the Sword.”

  “Because you’re her son, of course. But that in itself is astonishing, isn’t it? The priestess of Itsuki is your mother even though the gods surely forbid it. She deserves to be despised as filth.”

  “Please don’t talk about my mother like that.” Oguna was surprised to hear these words coming from his own mouth, but they expressed what he was feeling. “I don’t want to hear you speak of her with contempt.”

  “Then why don’t you take that sword and strike me? Kill me and justify your existence.”

  The prince lunged toward Oguna and swung his sword with powerful precision, attacking without pause. Oguna dodged but he only managed to evade the first three strokes. The fourth grazed his arm and the fifth, his chest, slashing his clothes. Blood spurted onto the tattered cloth. He staggered back against one of the posts. The prince raised his sword for the final blow but then paused.

  “Draw your sword! Don’t you want to strike back at least once?”

  Oguna raised himself up, and his right hand grasped the sword hilt. Pain and blood seemed to have transported him to another dimension. He no longer wished that he had died when the prince praised him. Oh-usu too, Oguna suddenly realized, had only cared for him because it was to his own advantage, not for Oguna’s sake. What difference was there between him and the emperor or Sukune if they were all going to turn on him as soon as they saw him as a liability rather than as a useful tool?

  Oguna heard a rumble of thunder inside him. He started at the sound he had always feared. Unlike lightning in the sky, it came from within. There was nowhere for him to run away or hide. Oguna looked at the prince in despair and said quietly, “Why did you not leave when I still admired you? I never wanted to be despised by you. I never wanted to hate you either.”

  “Then blame your mother and your father. You should never have been born,” the prince said. He raised his sword. “If you will not draw your weapon, then it can’t be helped. Goodbye, Ousu.”

  At that moment, understanding beyond doubt that the prince had rejected his very existence, something inside Oguna snapped. Because he had believed in the prince, because he had loved the prince, his emotions now surged with a violence that burst the lock and pulverized the door that had held them back. Clenching his teeth within the torrent, Oguna raised his own blade to meet the prince’s blow—and saw exploding light.

  * * *

  LADY AKARU NOTICED something fall from her hair onto the freshly tilled earth. Bending down, she saw that it was a precious comb, a gift from the prince. She had thought it firmly fixed in her hair. Hastily, she picked it up and wiped off the dirt with her sleeve, but as she did so, the teeth fell out one by one. She stared at it. Something has happened to the prince. Is he dead?

  The sky darkened as if the sun had suddenly disappeared behind a cloud, but looking up she saw that it was still the clear blue of late autumn. She thought she saw a solitary white bird flap slowly across that wide expan
se. Death felt close at hand, but she was not afraid. It was as though she had known this would happen all along and had just now reached that time and place. Lady Akaru shed no tears, but her mind sank into a sorrow so deep it felt like a stone at the bottom of a lake.

  So he was the Ame no Wakahiko after all. Turning his back on heaven’s laws, he loved me and came down from heaven to be with me. But our happiness was short-lived. He’s gone. He’s gone, and nothing will ever bring him back. Even were the birds to weep for eight nights and days, he would never come back …

  She placed the comb inside her bosom. Returning silently to her room, she tidied away all her belongings. No one noticed her leave the fort at Moyama. By the time they missed her and began to search, the evening star was already twinkling. But Lady Akaru was nowhere to be found.

  4

  AN EERIE LIGHT gushed from the island, shooting into the air. Instantly, the sky above turned as black as night and a purple glow spread across the water, as if it were liquid light. Sukune, who had concealed himself on the island to observe what transpired, leapt up and fled across the bridge at this sudden otherworldly transformation. This proved to be a wise decision, for just as he reached the opposite shore the trees on the island soundlessly ignited. For one second they appeared luminous, and the next, they burst into flame. Gusts of wind rose with a wailing roar, and the raging fire stained the pond red and gold.

  Sukune’s knees buckled, and he knelt on the shore unable to rise, staring numbly at the flames. Never in his life had he been so dumbfounded. What is this force? I had no idea the Sword was so strong. It’s beyond human comprehension. Perhaps it was never meant to be.

  When he saw the burning arbor in the middle of the island crumble and its roof collapse inward, he began to worry. What has happened to that boy? Does he intend to burn as well? Although he felt no sense of obligation toward Oguna, it seemed a waste to let the wielder of the Sword die when there might never be another like him. Moreover, having witnessed the Sword in action, he guessed that the emperor would have something to say if he did not bring Oguna back alive. Resigning himself, Sukune soaked his clothes with water and then crossed back over the bridge. The trees were in flames and the smoke and heat choked him, yet still he ran up the stone steps, dodging falling branches to reach the ruins of the arbor.

  He found Oguna sheltered beneath a corner of the roof, which sagged from a tilted post. Other than the wounds inflicted by the prince Oguna appeared unharmed, yet he sat listlessly on the ground looking as if he had lost his soul. His gaze was riveted on the prince facedown on the ground. There was no need to go any closer to confirm that the prince was dead. His clothes were charred black.

  The fearsome Sword lay by Oguna’s side where he had dropped it. Although it looked like an ordinary sword, Sukune dared not touch it. He shook Oguna and shouted, “Put that thing away. This is no time for cowardice.” Oguna, however, did not respond. Sukune slapped him hard across the face several times and repeated what he had said until Oguna finally sheathed the Sword. But he only seemed able to do what he was told. Sukune hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. “We must leave this island. At once!” He half-carried Oguna down the path and across the bridge.

  They were not a moment too soon, for the bridge was already smoldering. Once across, Sukune examined himself and found a few small burns. He cursed Oguna. “What use is that power if you can’t even protect yourself?” he snapped. But Oguna did not hear him. He continued to stare off into space as though lost in a dream. Clucking his tongue, Sukune shoved Oguna onto his horse, mounted in front of him and took the reins. Sukune had no time to indulge in shock. He had to return to the camp as soon as possible. Regardless of the astonishing sight he had just witnessed, his full attention needed to be reserved for directing the battle ahead. Neither he nor the emperor had ever entertained the thought that this affair could end peacefully.

  TOKO RAN, gasping for breath. Although the trees surrounding her hiding place had obstructed much of the pond from view, she had seen a strange light shoot into the sky followed by an orange glow. When she finally emerged from the trees, she saw the island consumed by flames so bright they dazzled her eyes.

  She stopped in her tracks with a cry and stood staring in disbelief. At that moment, she noticed a dark horse galloping toward her and instinctively darted behind a tree. The stern-faced rider wore no armor and his hair streamed in the wind. As she peered out from her hiding place, Toko’s heart almost stopped beating. Someone sat behind him—a young man. For an instant, she thought it was the prince, but then she recognized the pale, terrified look on his face. It was the same expression Oguna had always worn when confronted by a snake. Oguna? The horse, however, raced past before she could make certain. Forgetting caution, she ran out from behind the tree, but all she saw was their retreating figures. They did not stop or look behind.

  “Oguna …” Although she knew it was futile, she took a few steps after them.

  Suddenly an angry voice thundered behind her. “Lady Toko!” It was Tsunuga. Noticing that Toko had disappeared, he had ridden after her. “Must you insist on disobeying every order?”

  “Oguna was there. I saw him. I’ve been waiting for four years, but I only got a glimpse of him. What’s happened to the prince? Weren’t they supposed to meet on the island? Why is it in flames?”

  Without bothering to answer, Tsunuga yanked her roughly into the saddle in front of him. Then he said, “The prince was there on the island. It was a trap. He’s not coming back.”

  “But we’ve got to rescue him,” Toko screamed.

  “Impossible. There’s no way he could have lived through that.”

  “That’s the wrong way! Where are you going?”

  “To Kamitsusato. Don’t you see? This means war. Even though we’ve lost the prince, there are still people we must fight for.”

  “What am I going to do?” Toko said through tears. “I promised Lady Akaru that I’d give her jacket to the prince.”

  Urging his horse to a gallop, Tsunuga opened his mouth to snap that this was no time to be worrying about a jacket—and accidentally bit his tongue.

  THE EMPEROR’S well-equipped soldiers crushed Kukuri in no time, sweeping through it like a tsunami. The retreating Mino force was scattered, and many never made it back to Kamitsusato. Nanatsuka was among the missing. It was easy to guess that such a loyal servant as he might choose to follow the prince even in death. Still, the loss was a bitter blow. But they were given no chance to grieve. The enemy forces were already advancing toward the stronghold at Kamitsusato.

  By now Toko knew too well what war really meant. Each day seemed to pass in a delirium, swinging violently between the hot adrenalin rush of excitement and the cold grip of fear. The norms of daily life had been relegated to some far corner, and the uneventful, peaceful days of the past appeared so ephemeral that she might forget them all together. Before her very eyes, life, death, hate, and joy unfolded in tangible form. Toko could reach out and touch them. The work was grueling, but no one sought any rest; they knew that their very lives depended upon how hard they worked.

  On the evening of the third sleepless night, Toko, who had been carting heavy stones all day, was finally so overcome that she nodded off while leaning against her spear. Someone gently shook her and she woke with a start. At first she thought it was her mother, but when she forced herself awake she saw that the woman bending down to look into her face was someone else.

  “Lady Akaru!” Toko said, but Akaru gestured for her to be quiet. The lamp beside Toko had burned low. It must have been the middle of the night. Lady Akaru’s slender figure floated palely on the surface of the deep blackness behind her. She looked sad.

  “Lady Akaru, the prince …” Toko felt tears burn against her eyelids.

  Akaru shook her head. “It’s all right,” she said. “I already knew.” Her voice was resigned. “Remember the jacket I gave you for the prince? I just stopped by to see what happened to it.”

 
; “I’m so sorry. I still have it. I didn’t make it in time.” Toko’s voice caught. She still carried the parcel tied to her body.

  “So you took care of it for me, did you? I’m so glad.” Lady Akaru looked relieved. “Let me have it now. I’ll take it to him myself.”

  Toko drew in her breath and fixed her frightened eyes on Akaru’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Toko. I know it’s selfish of me. But together we were one. We can’t live without each other.” Her expression was serene, and her face shone with a purity that reminded Toko of moonlight, but there was no trace of the lady’s former vitality.

  “No! Please!” Toko said, protesting like a little child. “I can’t bear to lose you too! What are we going to do without you when we’ve already lost the prince and Nanatsuka?”

  “Poor Toko,” Lady Akaru said. A shiver went down Toko’s spine. Akaru’s voice sounded distant, as if she were already halfway down the road to the netherworld. “You’re strong, Toko. You have the strength to overcome this sorrow and carry on. Live, Toko, please. And bring the light back to the magatama. Do what I couldn’t do, Toko. Save the Tachibana.”

  “I’m not strong at all. I haven’t trained to be a priestess and I don’t know how to do anything. I have no power.”

  “Yes, you do. I’m sure you can do it. I have no reservations about entrusting you with that task.” Lady Akaru smiled. “Now, give me the jacket, please.”

  “No. Please don’t go!” Toko knew that if she gave Akaru the jacket, she would never see Akaru again. But she also knew that she could not win this battle. The jacket belonged to the prince; it was sacred, and only the prince and Lady Akaru had the right to keep it. Although in the end she reluctantly relinquished the parcel, she still could not help pleading one more time. “Please don’t go. Please don’t abandon us.”