This man could not be Oguna. So Toko had told herself. Yet she knew a boy who spoke like this. Who always ignored his own pain. Who had no shoulders to cry on so hid himself away instead. Who could sound like he didn’t care at all when inside this was far from true …
“Come on, Toko. Finish it,” Prince Ousu urged. “Then it will all be over. Finish what you came to do.”
Toko raised her dagger. This is what she wanted, and he wanted it too. Yet even knowing this, she could not bring herself to deal the final blow.
I can’t!
She felt a sudden sharp pain in her abdomen and bent over with a small cry. At first she did not know what it meant. But the change was clear. With a dull pain, something heavy rolled down inside her and fell as a drop of blood below the hem of her robe. Toko shrank back and stared at the red spot on the deck, paralyzed. Then she heard her own voice come back to her from long ago. I won’t become a woman until we see each other again. I promise. I’ll be waiting for you the whole time, so please come back.
Her shock and confusion manifested themselves instantly. The power of the Misumaru, which held the Sword in check, wavered. The whirlwind shook, and the warship, which had been held rigid, pitched violently. Taken by surprise, the two tumbled against the gunwales.
“Oguna!” Toko screamed, only realizing afterwards what she had called him. With an ominous creaking, the ship rolled in the opposite direction, and they rolled with it, unable to stand.
“The Sword,” Oguna shouted. Raising his head, he noticed that Toko’s face was as pale as bone. “Toko,” he cried, “are you hurt?”
Her lips trembled but she said nothing.
“The Sword is waking. Once that happens, you won’t be able to kill me.” He reached out his hand, bewildered by the sudden change that had come over her. “If you can’t do it, give me the dagger.”
But she turned away. “No! I can’t!” she cried in a strangled voice. “I can’t.”
She had believed that only she could free Oguna. She had come here totally convinced that she was chosen to be the bearer of the Misumaru. Yet at the last moment, she had been betrayed by her own self. She was not the one chosen to give Prince Ousu the release of death, even though he desired it. All she had been able to do was to keep her promise, and now that it had been fulfilled she had no power left at all.
The ship rocked precariously and waves splashed onto the deck. Seized by despair, Toko looked at Prince Ousu—at Oguna. “It’s no good. I’ve lost.”
“Why?”
But Toko did not even hear him. Shaking her head furiously, she cried, “What was the point? I don’t even understand anymore why I did thi—”
Oguna reached out to grab her, but she had already vanished from the spot. The fierce wind and roaring waves snatched away even his voice as he called her name.
SUGARU OPENED his eyes, thinking that someone had called him, then sat up abruptly. He had been sitting on the beach gazing at the waves but must have fallen asleep. His hand touched something and he picked it up. It was the Misumaru.
What’s this doing here? Why do I have it?
For a moment, his brain wouldn’t function. Toko must have left it behind. But that was impossible. The four stones, green, yellow, black, and white, gave off a faint glow even in the sunlight. Sugaru had been chosen. He was the one invested with the power of the bearer. And the string joining the magatama was soaked with seawater.
He could not believe that the Misumaru would switch bearers easily. He had relinquished it to Toko, expecting never to hold it again, and Toko must have accepted it in the same spirit. That it had come back to him like this could only mean that something had happened to Toko. And that Toko, of her own free will, had let it go.
What happened? Is the Sword so powerful that it can defeat even the Misumaru?
“I need a boat,” he said suddenly, but just as he was about to begin searching, he changed his mind. A boat would take too long. Impatient as always, he chose the most direct route. Gripping the Misumaru, he shot up as high as the clouds, as high above the sea as he could go, and let himself fall. He had plenty of time to examine the water below him before he hit the surface. This tactic proved successful. From his height, he could clearly discern the traces of power unleashed during the battle between the Misumaru and the Sword—they stood out like claw marks in the clear water. Following the disturbance in the sea current, he came across a warship on the verge of disintegration, caught in a whirling tide.
He nodded, his hair streaming in the wind. That must be it. From the sight, he could guess much of what had transpired. He was forced to admit that Toko had done a good job. The Sword remained sealed within the force that she had raised, trapped by the shining stones in Sugaru’s hand. Sugaru stopped his fall and flew straight toward the warship.
Landing on deck, he saw that the vessel was crumbling. The keel was shattered, and the ship looked like it would break apart at any moment. Yet Sugaru knew that it would not sink. Because of the shining Sword. No matter how securely its power might be sealed, the Sword still protected its master. Sugaru looked down at the deck where the blade lay abandoned, glowing quietly with a blue light. When he touched it with the Misumaru, the light wavered for a moment and then went out. A mere ordinary sword remained. He picked it up with a sober expression, then, with a shrug of his shoulders, threw it into the sea.
“So long and good riddance.”
The Sword’s owner lay in the prow of the ship. Walking over to him, Sugaru saw that despite his wounds Oguna was still alive.
So Toko couldn’t kill him after all … Sugaru was angry with himself for letting her convince him otherwise. He should have known all along that the girl couldn’t do it. Perhaps I should throw him into the sea too. Being in a foul mood, he considered this thought seriously. The prince wasn’t likely to wake up, and Sugaru would just be doing what Toko had left undone. But as he looked down at Prince Ousu, pity began to stir inside him. The cause of all this chaos now lay like a limp rag, totally defenseless. Close up, he looked as young and childish as Toko. And the only way to find out what had happened to Toko was to ask this youth.
The waves that had begun to lap at Sugaru’s feet forced him to make up his mind. The warship, having lost the Sword, was sinking quickly. There was no time to waste. Picking Oguna up in his arms, Sugaru drew on the power of the stones and flew away.
3
SUGARU FLEW SOME distance along the coast until he found an abandoned hut on a point. Built on a small hill, it appeared to have been used by a lookout for lighting beacon fires, but there was no trace of any recent use. Taking this as a good sign, Sugaru carried his prisoner inside. He was not so foolish as to take him to a village.
Once inside, Sugaru began examining Oguna’s blood-soaked wound. It was not as deep as he had thought, but neither was it shallow. Although it shouldn’t prove fatal, it was the sort of injury that could become dangerous if it festered. He needed clean bandages and ointment. I should be able to find some in a nearby village. For a moment, he contemplated the situation. Oguna might wake while he was gone. It would be pointless to let him escape after having brought him all the way here. To be on the safe side, Sugaru bound the prince’s arms and legs securely, then left cheerfully on his errand.
SUGARU’S FRIENDLY nature usually worked to his advantage. Although he had a way with women, he enjoyed human company of all sorts and could converse quite happily with almost anyone. People were naturally drawn to his easygoing manner, which meant that he rarely lacked for anything when he traveled. As long as he smiled, people would stop to chat, and someone was bound to offer him what he needed. This time too it worked; Sugaru quickly obtained what he sought and returned with food and other supplies. Humming to himself, Sugaru ducked inside the door to see Oguna raise his head and glare at him.
“Ah, so you’re awake,” Sugaru said. “You look surprisingly fit.”
Oguna was furious. Apparently, he did not like being tied up. Sugaru suppose
d that that was understandable. After all, his pride had been injured. But it made him appear quite different from when he had been unconscious.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Oguna demanded in the tone of one used to wielding authority. “If you committed this outrage knowing who I am, you’ll be sorry.”
Sugaru bent over him. “Personally, I think it’s pretty foolish to babble on like that when you’ve no idea where you stand,” he said. “Of course I know who you are. You’re Prince Ousu, heir to the emperor of Mahoroba, sent off to conquer the east. But you’d be better off considering why you’re here.”
“Who are you?”
“Sugaru.”
Puzzled, Oguna stared up at the red-haired young man. “How did you capture me?”
“You were just lying there on the deck of that boat, weren’t you? Oh, and by the way, your ship has sunk and your sword is just a piece of junk at the bottom of the sea.”
Oguna’s eyes widened as if in shock. For a brief moment, he lost his bold front and looked his age. Sugaru pressed the point home. “The Sword’s power has been broken. The Misumaru has sealed it away forever. You have no power left. Whether you live or die is entirely up to me. And unlike Toko, I haven’t the slightest compunction about killing you here and now.” Although he fell silent, Oguna seemed less daunted by this threat than Sugaru had expected and glared straight back at him.
“There’s only one reason I brought you back alive,” Sugaru continued. “I want to know what happened to Toko. She returned the Misumaru. She subdued the Sword, yet she didn’t kill you. What happened to her? Where did she go?”
Oguna turned his face away. “It’s none of your business.”
“You stupid idiot!” Grabbing Oguna by the collar, Sugaru yanked his head up. “It’s far more my business than yours. I know her much better than you. She belongs to my people, and like me she bears the stones. We traveled together all the way to the western edge of this land to gather the Misumaru.”
A faint groan escaped Oguna’s lips, but Sugaru did not slacken his hold. Only when he saw the blood drain from Oguna’s face did he remember that the man was wounded. Oguna was on the verge of fainting when Sugaru let him go.
He’s so stubborn!
It had been foolish of him to forget that Oguna was wounded, yet how could Sugaru help it when Oguna behaved as if he felt no pain? “Fool,” Sugaru muttered to himself. “What on earth does he expect to gain by such behavior?” He set about cleaning and rebandaging Oguna’s wound. As Oguna recovered consciousness and realized what Sugaru was doing, however, his face turned white with fury.
“Get your hands off me! Leave me alone!”
“I’m just treating your wound. Hold still, will you?”
“Don’t touch it.”
Sugaru stared at him in exasperation. “Why can’t you just accept a favor graciously instead of being so obstinate?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Fine then. Go ahead. Let it fester and kill you.”
“Do you think I care?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Sugaru demanded. “Do you want to die that badly?”
“I won’t let anyone touch it.”
Sugaru was now determined to fix that wound no matter what, if only to annoy Oguna.
“I said leave it.”
“Stop struggling. You’ll just make it worse.”
But Oguna continued to squirm and wriggle in his binds, though he had no hope of stopping Sugaru. In the end, he only succeeded in prolonging the whole process.
“Did you think I was going to smear it with poison or something?” Sugaru said. “I didn’t know that princes were such ungrateful brats.”
By this time, Oguna was limp with fatigue, but he looked up with tears in his eyes. “It was Toko’s.”
“What?”
“It was all she left me,” Oguna whispered. He closed his eyes, utterly exhausted. Sugaru stared at him for some time. Then, realizing that Oguna had fainted again, he untied the ropes that bound him.
THIS IS CRAZY. Sugaru could not help but wonder what he was doing. Not only had he rescued the wielder of the Sword, he was actually nursing him. Toko was gone. That was what had thrown everything off-kilter.
Oguna would not be able to move for some time. His wound had made him feverish and he dozed both day and night. Under the circumstances, Sugaru did not feel he could abandon the prince to his fate. He’s just a kid, that’s why.
Had Oguna been a bold and seasoned warrior when Sugaru had found him on that ship, he would not have pitied him. The gap between the prince’s reputation and the face of this boy was just too great. Sugaru scratched his head. I’ve been cursed with yet another kid. Blast it. Why does this always happen to me?
Judging from what little he had managed to glean from Oguna, Toko, unable to deal the deathblow, had left Oguna on the ship and used the Misumaru to spirit herself away. She might have come back to the shore, but then again, she might not have. Sugaru had never tested just how far the Misumaru could propel its bearer, but he felt it could probably bring its wielder to the very ends of the earth. Plus Toko had no sense of direction. Despite the immeasurable power of the four stones, they did not tell him where she had gone. Even Toko’s white magatama was silent.
Still, Sugaru could not abandon the hope that she might suddenly reappear. Every day he visited the beach where he had last seen her, wandering from one end to the other, but he found no clues. Finally, on the seventh day, he saw something that had not been there before—a crimson comb lying in the sand. Picking it up he saw that it closely resembled the one Toko had worn in her hair. He gazed out into the bay. Did the tide bring it here? The sea seemed to be telling him that it had Toko in its keeping. Although Sugaru had refused to even think it, it seemed most likely that the ocean had swallowed her. Are you planning to die, Toko, leaving only this as a memento? How could he go back to Izumo and explain that to Kisako or his friends? He stood for a long time, scowling at the water.
When he returned to the hut, he found Oguna sitting up and looking much better. His fever had gone and the wound had closed. Sugaru held out some rice balls that he had brought back with him. “Here,” he said.
Oguna hesitated but then, driven by hunger, reached out and took one. After all, he could not die yet. Although Oguna was still suspicious, he no longer showed open hostility.
Sugaru stared blankly into space while Oguna ate. “Did you learn something?” Oguna asked suddenly, appearing to sense a change.
Sugaru looked at him in surprise, for it was the first time that Oguna had addressed him of his own accord. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just found a comb washed up on the beach.” His discouragement showed. “Maybe she drowned. It wouldn’t be strange, I suppose. After all, she gave up the Misumaru.”
Oguna looked down at the ground. “She’s not dead. I know.”
Startled, Sugaru demanded, “Do you have proof?”
Oguna looked a little forlorn. “No, I have no proof. But I did have a dream. I’d forgotten that we shared such a bond. I was afraid to even think of Toko. But now, it’s Toko who refuses to turn to me. Still, I know what I know. She’s not dead. She’s alive somewhere.”
What’s with these two? Sugaru thought. They were joined by a bond that he could not even imagine, yet they remained almost totally oblivious of it and did not even ask themselves why they felt the way they did.
Oguna said stiffly, “I know I have no right to look for her. But … you could do it. I want you to find her.”
“I don’t need you to ask me.” Sugaru looked at Oguna for a few moments and then said, “When I find her, if I learn that she no longer has any intention of killing you, the first thing I’m going to do is to come back and finish you off myself. The Misumaru isn’t something that can be carried around forever without fulfilling its mission.”
Oguna did not flinch. “I know,” he said. “I will neither run nor hide. I will no longer turn my back on the fact that I’m
the wielder of the Sword.”
“Don’t forget that the Sword is at the bottom of the sea,” Sugaru pointed out, but Oguna looked back at him with a tormented expression.
“The Sword is just a tool, a medium for the god’s power,” he said. “If I could have rid myself of it so easily, no one would ever have had to suffer misfortune.”
Sugaru walked out of the hut, leaving Oguna inside. Misfortune … He’s right. It brings even the wielder misfortune. He had to admit that he had never even considered how the wielder of the Sword might feel. To wreak massive destruction, not just once but repeatedly, with no way to justify it—no wonder Oguna had wanted to die. If there were no way to thwart fate, then perhaps it would be kinder to kill him now. I’ve really walked into a mess this time … It would have been so much easier if Sugaru had never gotten to know Oguna as a human being. The illustrious commander of the eastern expedition and heir to the throne was just a lost and desperate boy. Never mind that. The first thing I need to do is find Toko.
Deciding to start once more from the beach, he flew to the end of the point. There, however, he found something entirely unexpected. Two warships, just like the one that had sunk, were preparing to moor in the bay. As Sugaru watched from behind a rock, he saw soldiers disembark. They must be Prince Ousu’s men, searching for their commander. They were pretty loyal to have remained behind rather than fleeing to the capital, Sugaru thought. It took him a moment to make up his mind, but in the end he flew up behind the leader and hailed him. Startled, the man spun around.
“You’ll find what you’re looking for in the hut on top of that hill,” Sugaru said.
“Who are you?”
Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince Page 36
