What had shocked Toko most was the news that Oguna was traveling west. As the blue mountains rose before her, she envisioned him on the other side pressing his mount steadily onward. Even if his companions were few, as the commander of an imperial mission he would still be clad in armor and wrapped in an aura of dignity and power. And he would be bearing that evil sword on his hip. Yet the toil of his journey would not be much different from hers. Day after day, he would taste the loneliness of wandering, never seeing the same scenery twice, never resting with ease. The wind might blow and the rain might fall, but he would be forced to move onward.
It disturbed her to think of him experiencing the same hardships that had been drilled into her own body. She was seized by a sudden urge to spur her horse onward across the mountains in pursuit, but forced the idea from her mind as sheer stupidity. Hadn’t she just heard what had happened to the men of Izumo—gone in a flash of light and flame? She could not confront Oguna yet. First she must become his equal. She must obtain the Misumaru, the only weapon that could match his power. I must hurry!
STILL LOST in their own thoughts, Toko and Kisako passed through several villages along the river until they reached the foot of the mountains. Here they came upon yet another settlement nestled in a valley between the steep slopes. This, Toko guessed, was the bead-makers’ village, for on the bridge at the entrance stood Sugaru with a group of young men. They looked as if they had been waiting.
“Welcome,” Sugaru said, stepping forward to take the reins of Kisako’s horse. “You arrived much sooner than I expected.”
“You knew we were coming?” Kisako asked.
“Of course. I was sure you would come. But if I had known you would be arriving today, I would have raised the ante.”
Kisako and Toko stared at him, wide-eyed. One of his companions turned to the others and said in disgust, “There’s no point in betting against Sugaru when it comes to women. There’s not a woman alive who’s immune to his charms.”
The others chimed in with similar complaints. “I don’t believe it. I’ve lost again.”
“Who was the idiot who suggested we bet in the first place?”
They were betting on us? On whether we’d come or not? Toko thought.
Ignoring the disgusted expressions on Toko’s and Kisako’s faces, Sugaru collected his winnings from his friends, a smug look on his own face. When he finished, he said, “All right. Let’s go then. My house is the one farthest upstream.”
“I think you must have misunderstood,” Toko said coldly. “We didn’t come here to see you. We came here because we were advised to do so by Lady Toyoao.”
“You came to be a guest at my house, right? It’s the same thing.” Ignoring her protests, he began leading Kisako’s horse across the bridge, and Toko had no choice but to follow. The other young men brought up the rear, their faces alive with curiosity.
The village, dedicated as it was to the unusual craft of bead making, was very different from those the girls were used to seeing. They assumed that the grandest building must be the headman’s hall, only to discover that it was the bead workshop. They were also puzzled by the many large stones, some square and some with carved patterns, scattered about the village. The houses all seemed to be the same size and shape, and even their destination, the headman’s house at the very end of the village, was not particularly large. The garden behind it, however, extended into the thick forest beyond. A path led into the trees to a small wooden shrine perched on a stone column.
Kisako tugged at Toko’s sleeve. “Look! There’s a Tachibana tree near that shrine.”
Peering at it, Toko saw that she was right. The evergreen with its dark glossy leaves looked just like the tree within the sacred grounds of the Forest Shrine in Mino. Small yellow orbs clung beneath its leaves, and Toko knew the fruit to be pungently fragrant. Just the thought brought the scent back to her. That smell belonged to Mino—a memory of her precious homeland. It had never occurred to her that she would one day miss the secluded shrine deep in the forest. Now, however, it existed only in her memory, part of the home she had lost forever.
“Hey, Grandpa, I’ve brought guests!” Sugaru shouted. He entered the back door but came out again almost immediately. “Ira,” he said to a middle-aged woman approaching with a load of firewood. “Where’s Grandpa?”
The woman stopped. “I don’t know. He said there was a meeting—” She broke off and began to laugh. “There he is, right behind you.”
Sugaru and the girls turned around in surprise. How he had gotten there they did not know, but an old man now stood behind them. He was thin and the hair was receding from his prominent forehead, but his bones looked sturdy and his features bore some resemblance to Sugaru. His bushy white eyebrows, however, were locked in a fierce glower, and no one would have dared to flatter him with such adjectives as gentle or kind. He raised his cane and whacked Sugaru on the head.
“Ow! That hurt!” Sugaru yelped, clutching his head.
“Imbecile! What do you mean by not showing up at the workshop for three days? Just wasting your time at the marketplace would have been enough to bring shame to the headman’s house, but no, you actually had the nerve to sell your trashy beads there. Not a single day goes by without your causing some kind of trouble! Idiot!”
“Oh … so you heard already?” Sugaru seemed to shrink in size.
“That’s all they talked about at the meeting! Put yourself in my shoes for once. I thought my face would burn with the shame of it. It’s at least a decade too soon for you to be showing your work to anyone. If you go around claiming to be a bead maker while selling rubbish like that, you’ll tarnish the reputation of our entire village. How can I face our ancestors when you act like that? You’re a disgrace to our family name!”
Sugaru shrank even further. “But, Grandpa—”
“No buts. If you have something to say, do it when you’re capable of work that is worth showing me. And now what? Are you planning to bring a bunch of women to this house? Over my dead body.”
“No, no, you’ve got it wrong. They’re shrine maidens. They’ve traveled all the way from Mino.”
“Ha! A likely story!”
“But it’s true!”
Sugaru’s friends, who had hastily retreated from the line of fire, watched gleefully as Sugaru, glistening with nervous sweat, groveled in abject apology.
“Ah, it always makes me feel so much better to see him like this.”
“When it comes to women, fights, or gambling, Sugaru never loses. His grandfather is the only one who can put him in his place.”
“It’s amazing. He gets yelled at every time.”
“But just you watch. As soon as his grandfather’s gone, Sugaru will forget everything.”
Toko watched, and sure enough, as soon as the old man turned his back, exhausted from yelling, Sugaru’s contrite expression vanished like mist in the sun. He turned to the girls. “You can stay in the east wing,” he said. “I’ll tell Ira to bring you some food.”
“We can’t stay here without first explaining ourselves properly—not when your grandfather was so angry,” Kisako said.
“That’s just his temper,” Sugaru said. “He’s quite old, you see. When he gets mad, he loses control.” Then he added in his defense, “But he’s still the best bead maker in Izumo. He’s had a hard life. My parents died and all he has left is me.”
Then why don’t you do what he says and behave yourself so he doesn’t have to yell at you? Toko thought.
As if he had read her mind, Sugaru laughed. “But I’m an unworthy grandson. I’m not made out to be an artisan. It doesn’t suit my nature to sit around all year polishing beads.”
One of the other young men piped in, “We’re planning to get a boat. Not one owned by the Kuni no Miyatsuko, but our very own. We’ll use it to import jade.” They began talking about this project with an enthusiasm that Toko found puzzling. In her homeland, young people would never have dreamed of disobeying their e
lders. Here, however, it seemed to be different. Young people acted independently …
As they spoke animatedly among themselves, Sugaru and his friends began walking off. “Sugaru, wait!” Toko called out. “There’s something we need to talk to you about.”
Sugaru turned and winked at her. “Ira will take care of you,” he said. “Just relax and take it easy. It wouldn’t be right to talk about a subject like that in the daytime.”
“Would you be serious?” Toko scowled but then suppressed her irritation and asked him a question instead. “At least tell me one thing before you go. What’s inside that shrine?” She pointed toward the forest.
“You mean the shrine to the forest god? It’s dedicated to my ancestor, Kushiakahiko.”
“What’s enshrined in it?”
“I haven’t a clue. Maybe Grandpa knows. He’s the one who takes care of it.” And Sugaru left without having been of any use at all.
Watching the young men walk away, Kisako whispered to Toko, “I know what you’re thinking. You think the magatama is kept in that shrine, right?”
“What about you, Kisako?”
“I do too.”
AFTER the good-natured Ira had taken them to their room and supplied them with everything they needed, the two girls finally had a chance to talk.
“I think the Tachibana are dying out,” Kisako confided to Toko. “The other clans will be destroyed too, just like we lost the shrine in Mino. Our people will vanish altogether from this earth.”
“You don’t know that. So far, we only know about Mino and Izumo. It’s too soon to judge.” But Toko spoke without much conviction. Until they had reached Izumo, both she and Kisako had seen themselves as messengers. They had believed that the burden would be lifted from their shoulders as soon as they found the Tachibana priestess in Izumo and relayed the message from the Keeper of the Shrine. Then they could simply depend on a much wiser person to guide them. Even Toko, who aimed to become a warrior, had vaguely expected that someone would appoint her to that role. But instead the high priestess of Izumo had vanished long ago, leaving only an oral tradition that had been passed down to Lady Toyoao. Toko and Kisako did not know what to do next.
“What do you expect me to do without a high priestess?” Kisako said. “There’s no way to continue my training. The people of Izumo don’t even know enough to respect a shrine maiden. I never imagined that we would face a situation like this after such a long journey.”
“But, Kisako, you can teach them to respect you. If they knew you were a true shrine maiden, they wouldn’t dare disrespect you. They’re just ignorant, that’s all.”
“No, Toko, I can’t. I’m only partway through my training and I can’t become a high priestess on my own. Maybe if I had been initiated in the secret of the magatama … But that was my sister’s role. She was the one who was supposed to become the high priestess. I’m just a substitute.”
“Let’s not talk about Akaru,” Toko said. Thinking about Akaru made her sad.
“You just don’t understand, Toko. From the time I was born, it was drilled into me that my role in life was to carry on the Tachibana line. But when my sister’s destiny was revealed, our roles were suddenly reversed. I was told to become a shrine maiden instead and remain chaste for the rest of my life. So I became a shrine maiden and tried my best to train to become a priestess, but now there’s no one anywhere who can teach me. I don’t know what to do.” Kisako sat and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Unable to refute the logic of this argument, Toko decided instead to change the subject to a more immediate problem. “Well, in any case, judging from Lady Toyoao’s story, it seems quite likely that the magatama is in that shrine. Instead of sitting around wasting time, we should find out.”
“What? Do you think we should ask that old man? What would we say? ‘Please sir, show me what’s in the shrine?’”
They looked at each other. Their first impression of the headman had been quite daunting.
“I wonder if he’ll beat us with his cane …”
“He doesn’t seem very likely to listen to our explanation, does he?” Kisako agreed. “It would be unthinkable to reveal the sacred object guarded in the shrine.”
They tried to think of ways to convince him, but none of their ideas were any good. Finally Toko said, “This is impossible. I’ll just have to go and take a look inside the shrine when everyone’s asleep. I’m sorry, but there’s just no other way.”
“And if you find a magatama, will you just take it?”
Toko groaned. “I’ll worry about that later. The first problem we have to solve is whether there is a real magatama here or not.” She stopped suddenly, struck by a thought. “How do you tell a real magatama from a fake anyway?”
Kisako put her head in her hands. “I don’t even know myself. But … I’ve heard that the magatama of the Tachibana glow from within. When they find the right person to be their bearer, they shine. And I also heard …” She paused, searching for words, but then gave up. “It’s no use. I’ll just have to come with you.”
LATE AT NIGHT when the crescent moon was setting, Toko and Kisako crept outside, feeling somewhat guilty. Spring was approaching, but the nights were still chilly, and the air stabbed their lungs. Shrinking against the cold, they tiptoed under the clear, starlit sky. To their surprise, however, they ran into someone attempting to sneak through the garden gate despite the hour. It was Sugaru.
“You’ve got some nerve coming home this late,” Toko said, forgetting her own position entirely.
“Ah, I see. You couldn’t wait for me to get home, so you came looking for me. Sorry to make you go to all that trouble.”
“Who on earth would bother going out in the middle of the night just to meet you?”
“I know of lots of women who do,” Sugaru said. “You said you had something to talk to me about. Wasn’t that what you meant?”
Fearing that Toko would start shouting, Kisako yanked her away from the young man and stepped forward. “No, that’s not what we wanted to talk to you about. Your ancestors and ours shared the same destiny. That’s why we wanted to talk. Would you please listen?”
Sugaru narrowed his eyes. “Under the light of the stars, you look even more beautiful. The moon tonight pales beside you.”
Ignoring this comment, Kisako briefly explained about the magatama. She had doubted that he would be able to digest the content in so short a time, but he nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll go and open the shrine for you. If it’s that special, then I’d like to see it myself. I always thought it fishy that Grandpa kept telling me I’d go blind if I looked inside. But that made me think there probably wasn’t anything special there.”
“You don’t mind?” Toko asked in disbelief.
Sugaru grinned. “When Grandpa dies, it’ll be my turn to guard that shrine. So I should be entitled to have a look, don’t you think?”
Inside the wood, it was nearly pitch dark. Without Sugaru there to guide them, they would never have reached the shrine without a light. He warned them before every rock or tree root, as if he knew exactly where each was located. When they finally reached the shrine, Sugaru grasped the handles on the double doors and turned toward them. “If I go blind,” he said, “Please take me back to the house.” He did not seem to be in the least afraid.
But the doors were shut fast, and Sugaru struggled with them for some time. Stamping her feet against the damp chill in the forest air, Toko asked Kisako, “You didn’t bring a flint stone, did you?”
Kisako said that she hadn’t and when Toko asked Sugaru, he also said no. “Well, that was pretty stupid of us. How are we going to see what’s in there if none of us has a light?”
There was a loud crack and then Sugaru said, “You may be stupid, but I’m not. I brought a light. See? The shrine’s open now. Come and take a look. It’s going to be hard to get this door back on again though.” Something in Sugaru’s hand had begun to glow, and a light shone on his face. Holdin
g the light high, he stuck his head into the shrine and said, “Look. It is a magatama—and an impressive one at that. This must be the model for all the others we make.”
“Sugaru, what on earth is that in your hand?” Kisako asked. Her voice shook and she had lost her usual composure.
“This? My mother gave it to me. I’m not supposed to tell anyone that it glows, but it comes in handy.”
“Sugaru, that’s it! That’s the Tachibana magatama.”
“What? No, it can’t be. Grandpa never said anything about that.”
“Even so, it’s the Tachibana magatama,” Kisako said, trembling with excite-ment. “I can tell.”
4
THE TWO GIRLS bent forward to peer at what lay cupped inside Sugaru’s long, lean fingers. Slimmer than an ordinary magatama, it resembled a fang more than a teardrop, but its light was mesmerizing. The core shone vibrant green, like sun pouring through translucent leaves in spring. The color clearly came from the light, not the stone, for not even the finest jade had such a hue.
Sugaru looked as amazed as Toko and Kisako. “Well now, that’s a surprise. In my family, we just call it Midori. Are you sure it belongs to a priestess? That seems very unlikely. After all, it’s supposed to be a childbearing charm. The male heir in our family always gives Midori to the woman he marries. Then she gives it to their firstborn son. That’s how Grandpa and my father inherited it. It is an ancient heirloom, but still …”
“Can I hold it?” Kisako asked. Sugaru handed it to her readily. The stone glowed briefly on her palm, but then its light faded away, and they were plunged once more into darkness. The chill in the air deepened.
“Kisako, why did it go out even though you’ve trained to be a priestess?” Toko said.
“I guess it doesn’t respond to someone with Mino blood. Maybe the master of the stone has to be from Izumo.”
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