Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince

by Noriko Ogiwara

  “Sugaru’s alone. Get him!” the leader shouted.

  “He may be on his own,” one of the other five protested, “but he’s got as many friends as there are legs on a centipede. We won’t make it home alive.”

  They stood glaring at Sugaru for a few moments, sweat beading on their foreheads, but in the end they decided to withdraw. Gazing after the youths as they ran through the trees, Sugaru tapped the stick against his shoulder. “I’m offended. I would never have dreamed of asking for help. It would have been too good a chance to show what I can do.”

  Bending down to look at Kisako, her cheeks wet with tears, his eyes widened in genuine admiration. “Well, well, well. What a surprise! I only half believed it. But it’s true. You really are beautiful. I never knew what beauty was until I saw you.”

  Kisako, who had never been praised so frankly in her life, blushed and hid her face behind her sleeve.

  “It won’t do to have a beauty like you wandering about on your own, much less being led on by such useless louts as that. You need to realize just how gorgeous you are.”

  “But I wasn’t led on,” Kisako protested faintly. “I’m a shrine maiden. I wouldn’t flirt with anyone.”

  “Really? But you could have half the men in Izumo following you with just one look. I guarantee it.”

  “Stop talking to Kisako like that,” Toko said. To her, Sugaru seemed no better than the gang leader, and she sensed that he would, in fact, be the more dangerous when it came to distracting Kisako from her objective. “You helped us by chasing away that gang, but look at you now. Have the people of Izumo forgotten how to pay reverence to a shrine maiden?”

  “Of course we revere them, especially if they’re as good-looking as she,” Sugaru said. “To prove it, allow me to accompany you to your destination. Tell me where you’re going.” When he learned they wanted to meet the high priestess, Sugaru immediately went off to gather friends and horses.

  Once he had gone, Kisako pressed her hands against her burning cheeks and looked at Toko. “Am I really that beautiful?”

  “He told every girl we saw on the way here that she was beautiful,” Toko snapped, but Kisako appeared oblivious. She smiled in the direction the young man had gone. “Sugaru … What a lovely name.”

  Just what about it is lovely? Toko thought.

  WHEN SUGARU returned with a group of friends and only one horse, Toko was further incensed because he lifted Kisako onto the horse and told Toko to walk with the rest of the party. In response to her complaint that this was unfair, he replied, “I only treat women specially. After all, there’s no reward to be had from flattering a child.”

  “But she’s the same age as me!”

  “Ah. But you’re not a woman yet, right? I can tell.”

  “How?”

  He looked at her gravely and said, “You aren’t in love with me.”

  “I hate men like you who flirt shamelessly. And those who think every girl must love them are even worse.”

  Sugaru looked offended. “I don’t think every girl loves me. It’s simply the truth. I can’t help it.”

  Realizing the futility of further discussion, Toko maintained a stony silence. The looks that the young women gave them as they passed were so sharp they almost pricked her skin. They also fanned her anger because she could not accuse Sugaru of lying.

  Sugaru led them to the hall of the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the provincial lord of Izumo. Surrounded by a thick green hedge, the hall was just as imposing as Toko had imagined. Sugaru had bragged continually along the way that he had connections with the ruler’s household, and apparently he had been telling the truth. At Sugaru’s request, the servant who greeted them at the door went off to arrange a meeting with the high priestess for Toko and Kisako.

  “I’ve been delivering beads to the Kuni no Miyatsuko ever since my grand-father got the gout,” Sugaru said smugly as they waited. “You should come to my village when you’re finished. I’ll prove to you that we have real magatama—ones for which you’d be willing to trade that sword.” Then he turned to Kisako and, switching tones completely, said, “And you must come too. From you, I will not ask for anything in exchange. It will be my gift. There’s bound to be a jewel that only you could wear.”

  Toko suppressed a violent urge to stomp on his foot. Instead, she said, “Thank you for everything you’ve done, but I must remind you that it’s no use flirting with Kisako. She’s the last of our clan to serve the gods.”

  “Ah. You mean that she’s beyond my reach, do you?” Sugaru flashed the same fearless grin he had shown Toad Boy’s gang. “When it comes to love, I can’t resist a challenge.” He strode off, laughing.

  “He’s horrible! Oh, how I hate men like that,” Toko fumed. Kisako failed to respond. Constantly having suffered in comparison to Akaru back home, Kisako had rarely been complimented on her looks. While Toko had always grudgingly thought her cousin extraordinarily pretty, she noticed with surprise that Kisako’s demurely downcast face was now positively radiant. For reasons Toko could not fathom, Sugaru’s attentions appeared to have transformed her into a true beauty.

  2

  ENTERING THE HALL, Toko and Kisako followed an elderly servant into the far reaches of the complex. People bustled about the main building and in the passageways, but once the girls had passed beyond the inner garden, everything grew silent. The only other presence seemed to be the ancient trees. Still leafless from the winter, a weeping willow drooped over a pond like a woman grieving. Here the servant finally stopped, announcing that they had reached their destination. Before them stood a solitary building surrounded by trees. A faint sound, barely audible, quivered in the air—someone was plucking a one-stringed harp.

  “Her ladyship rarely accepts visitors,” the servant said with a disapproving frown. “You have been granted a highly unusual privilege. She is blind and tires easily, so please speak no more than necessary and keep your voices down. She can hear even a whisper.”

  The two girls nodded and then exchanged glances. Apparently, high priest-esses in lands other than Mino were also very particular about visitors. When they entered the building, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim light. They vaguely made out the figure of a slender woman pushing away a low harp. Kneeling and bowing low, the two girls introduced themselves nervously. The woman greeted them in a voice as faint as the beating of moth wings.

  “Welcome. You are to be commended for successfully reaching Izumo. I am Toyoao, younger sister of the Kuni no Miyatsuko. Word has reached us here of the war in Mino. You must be very anxious about the fate of your homeland.”

  Toko looked at the woman before her and wondered how old she was. In the dusky light with only her faint whisper as a guide, she could have been fifteen or fifty. Her small pale hands and petite white face were those of someone who lived without the sun on her skin. Her eyes were closed and her expression as unreadable as if she were asleep.

  Together, Toko and Kisako conveyed the words of the Keeper of the Shrine. “We fled here, to this land,” Kisako concluded, “to ask you to lend us your wisdom and power, to beg you to aid us to find the warrior and the Misumaru, the string of magatama, with which we can defeat the bearer of the Sword. Please tell us what we should do.”

  Lady Toyoao had listened silently throughout, but now she said in a voice that sounded like a sigh, “I see … .” She paused for a long moment and then began to speak. “What greater joy could there be than to meet people of the Tachibana clan. I am blind, but I have been blessed with hearing far keener than others. I can learn more from people’s voices than is visible to the eye. Kisako, yours is like a bird warbling in spring. You bring joy and attract the hearts of others. I am sure you must be very pretty as well.” Kisako blushed and fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “Toko, you sound like a pure rushing stream. No one who comes in contact with that clarity can remain unchanged. Purity is strength. You both have a fresh, wholesome power like young buds in spring. I have always tho
ught that that is what a Tachibana priestess must be like … Unfortunately, however, I must disappoint you. It grieves me to tell you this but no Tachibana blood runs in my veins. There is no longer any Tachibana blood in the line of the lord of Izumo.”

  “Wha—” Toko hastily clapped a hand over her mouth. In a quieter voice, she asked, “But where are the Tachibana then?”

  “Nowhere. They simply died out over time,” Lady Toyoao whispered. “Unlike Mino, Izumo is not protected by mountains. Many ships come and go and many wars have been fought here. There is no longer any priestess who can move Izumo. I just happened to be born to this household, and as I am blind, people believe me to be closer to the gods. I’m afraid that I cannot guide you.”

  Toko and Kisako sat speechless, robbed of what little strength they had left. Who could have foreseen this? They had risked their lives to get here, enduring countless hardships in the belief that once they found their people, the Tachibana, they would learn how to destroy the Sword. No one, not even the Keeper of the Shrine had considered the possibility that the Tachibana clan in Izumo had died out.

  “There’s no one? Not even a single Tachibana left? Did you lose the magatama of your clan too?” Toko asked.

  “No,” Lady Toyoao said. “No, I don’t think so. But I do know one thing.” Tilting her head to one side as though listening to some inner voice, she continued. “It happened long ago, when our clan replaced the Tachibana. The new lord seized the magatama from the Tachibana as proof that he was the legitimate ruler. A rumor spread that this magatama was a fake made by Kushiakahiko, a skilled Tachibana artisan. The chief interrogated him and threatened to have him drawn and quartered if he did not produce the real one. A year later, the artisan capitulated and presented another stone. It was a splendid work, a treasure. Not long after, however, the rumor spread that the second bead was also a counterfeit. Pressured by the chief, Kushiakahiko produced yet another stone, this one even finer than the last. This happened repeatedly, and each time Kushiakahiko brought a magatama that glowed even more brightly than those that came before it. Finally the chief no longer threatened him with death but instead took him into his service to make a new magatama every year. The people who live in the bead-makers’ village are Kushiakahiko’s descendants.”

  It was a strange story, one that people from Mino could never have imagined. Now Toko finally understood why fakes would be sold in the marketplace. “The bead-makers’ village,” she said under her breath. “So Sugaru—”

  Lady Toyoao’s keen ears picked up her words. “Yes, you were fortunate to meet Sugaru. He’s the grandson of the village headman and the youngest descendant of Kushiakahiko.”

  “Can you believe it?” Toko hissed in Kisako’s ear. “She’s saying that that idiot has Tachibana blood.”

  Ignoring Toko, Kisako said to the priestess, “Really? I knew there was something special about Sugaru.”

  Taking advantage of the fact that the priestess could not see, Toko jabbed Kisako with her elbow and received a sharp poke back. The priestess smiled. “There’s no one in Izumo who doesn’t know the name Sugaru, especially not the young women. Not a day goes by that they don’t mention him. It’s only to be expected, I suppose. His voice is filled with sparks.”

  “So we may be able to find the magatama in the bead-makers’ village,” Kisako said. “Even to know that much is very helpful. To be honest, I’ve never seen a real magatama. The one from Mino was passed on to my older sister, and then it was taken from us.”

  “What do you know about the Misumaru, the string of beads?” Lady Toyoao asked.

  Kisako shrugged. “Only that we need it to defeat the bearer of the Sword. The Keeper of the Shrine didn’t tell us much, and we were expecting to learn more about it once we reached Izumo, but—”

  “I see.” Lady Toyoao paused for a moment. “I’m not very useful, I’m afraid. All I can do is listen to the voices of the past. But perhaps I can help by sharing the tale of how the magatama came to be. You see, it was in Izumo that the Goddess gave the Tachibana their stones. Did you know that?”

  “No,” Toko and Kisako said simultaneously.

  “It was after the Goddess of Darkness gave birth to the fire god. Disfigured by severe burns, she was descending the hill to the netherworld to hide herself away when suddenly she stopped. ‘Ah,’ she thought. ‘I have come to the land of the dead, leaving that evil child in the world above.’ So she returned and gave birth to children in whom she invested the power to still the force of the fire god should the evil in his heart begin to rage. Those children were the ancestors of the Tachibana, and to each one she gave a sign, one of the stones from the necklace she wore around her neck. Originally, there were eight stones, each distinct: Aka, pale pink and bright. Kuro, midnight blue and dark. Ao, light blue and faint. Shiro, white and clear. Ki, yellow and full of life. Midori, green, for new birth. Kagu, light. Kura, darkness. When she broke the necklace, she took one stone for herself, saved one for her husband, the God of Light, and divided the remaining six among her children. The Water Maiden gave hers, Ao, to the Wind Child, and it became part of him. That leaves five remaining. They must still exist somewhere on this earth.”

  Toko and Kisako knew the story of the Water Maiden well. She and the Wind Child had founded Mahoroba and the emperor’s line, which the Tachibana of Mino had protected ever since. But it seemed unbelievable that the magatama they were seeking should come from the same necklace as the stone that had once united the Water Maiden and the Child of Light. Dazed, the two girls sat in silence.

  “The Misumaru,” Lady Toyoao continued, “was the necklace worn by the Goddess. Therefore, if you want it, you must first gather together the five stones given to the Tachibana clans. From what I have heard, even individually these stones are imbued with power—but when brought together they have extraordinary force, as great as, or even more dangerous than, the power of the fire god’s cursed Sword. Four together can bring death to all while five bring rebirth. Or, at least, so it is said.”

  “Four together bring death to all …” Toko murmured. “So that’s why the Keeper of the Shrine said the warrior would need the string of beads.”

  Kisako thought for a while and then asked, “The Keeper of the Shrine taught me where the five Tachibana clans reside. They’re spread from one end of Toyoashihara to the other. Does that mean that if we are to obtain the Misumaru, we must travel to each of those lands?”

  “Yes.”

  “But who could possibly do that!” Kisako exclaimed. Just the journey from Mino to Izumo had seemed to her like a lifetime.

  “I will,” Toko said. “All I need is four magatama, right? If gathering them together will make me the warrior and the destroyer of the Sword and its wielder, then I will find them.”

  “Lady Toko, you sound so happy,” Lady Toyoao said. “Why?”

  “I grew up with that boy,” Toko answered. “That’s why it must be me.”

  “That boy? Is that what you call Prince Ousu? But I thought the prince wielded the Sword.”

  “Prince Ousu? I’ve never heard that name.”

  “I’m sure that’s what they call the prince who killed his older brother and ravaged Mino.”

  Toko sighed. “He’s the same person then. The bearer of the Sword.”

  Lady Toyoao also sighed. She appeared to be tiring. “I’m so sorry,” she said in a barely audible voice. She gathered her strength and spoke more clearly. “If you wish to stop the one who bears the Sword, then you must hurry, for the destruction it wreaks is spreading. Prince Ousu is much closer than you think. Have you heard that he has left Mahoroba and is heading west?”

  Toko and Kisako were shocked. “Are you sure?” Toko asked.

  “Yes, he left a month later than you. But unlike you, he has been following the inland sea westward and is now farther west from here. The emperor of Mahoroba ordered him to subdue the Kumaso.”

  “The Kumaso?” Toko groaned. She seemed to remember tales of a people by tha
t name who lived in the far western corner of the country.

  Lady Toyoao frowned. “There were some in Izumo who, hearing that he was accompanied by only a few men, set out to take revenge. Prince Oh-usu had allies in Izumo too, you see. But not one of those who sought to avenge his death ever returned. They say that people saw a flash of light and flames, and afterwards there was nothing left but scorched fields—” She was interrupted by a fit of coughing. Toko trembled as she recalled the blue-white flash she had seen in Mino.

  The elderly servant spoke from the other side of the curtain as if she could no longer restrain herself. “My lady, you must stop. If you push yourself like this, you will never recover even if you take to your bed.”

  “Shirame, let me be, please,” Lady Toyoao reprimanded gently. Then she turned back to Toko. “I often come down with a fever, and so she worries about me. This is the first time I have ever talked at such length. But perhaps I was just waiting for this day. I may have been placed here just so that I could tell you these things.” She smiled for the first time, but not for those with eyes to see her. This thought made Toko sad. Now that she knew a simple conversation was enough to give Lady Toyoao a fever, she could not linger any longer.

  “We’ll go to the bead-makers’ village,” Toko said. “Thank you so much for everything.”

  They were about to leave the room when the priestess, summoning the last reserves of her strength, said, “Lady Toko, you must hurry. Do you know the name of the land where the Kumaso live?”

  The urgency in her voice startled Toko. “No,” she answered.

  “Himuka, the land where the sun sets, and home of the Tachibana and one of the stones.”

  3

  SHIRAME was so angry with the two girls for prolonging their visit that they feared she would not follow Lady Toyoao’s instructions to bring them horses and help them on their way. Well trained in the service of the ruling clan, however, Shirame made sure the girls were given strong steeds. Accepting the loan gratefully, Toko and Kisako headed for the bead-makers’ village. The road, which ran south along the river toward the mountains, was wide and flat, and they sped along it with ease. They rode silently, their minds so full of what they had learned that they had no desire to talk.