“You’re joking.”
“Didn’t you notice?” Takehiko broke off a reed and flung it into the water. The current caught it and began carrying it upstream. Sugaru stared at it in disbelief. Oguna, who was standing beside him, began to chuckle.
“That’s not so strange. The river is just influenced by the tides. I bet it flows so gently that the full tide pushes its way upstream.”
Sugaru looked at him, impressed. “You’re pretty smart.”
“I’m guessing there must be a large marsh or lake farther up. Maybe even an inland sea. This is the first time I’ve seen this kind of topography.” Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he said, “We need to make a survey. We don’t have any maps of this territory.”
“But we’ll have to travel for days to get to high enough ground to view the land,” Takehiko said.
Oguna suddenly turned to stare at Sugaru.
“What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing. I just envy you. You could survey the area in no time, couldn’t you?
“Yeah, well,” Sugaru said, conspicuously failing to get Oguna’s hint.
“You’re lucky. The power you wield helps others. Even though I wish it were otherwise, the Sword’s doesn’t.”
“I never said I was going to help anyone.”
“But you’re always helping others.”
Sugaru glared at Oguna. “Don’t go thinking that I’ll succumb to flattery. I’ve no intention of helping the emperor in his conquests.” He was, in fact, highly susceptible to flattery.
“I wouldn’t think of using you as a scout,” Oguna said. “I just thought how great it would be if I could fly like you.”
Sugaru’s mischievous streak raised its head. “Well, if it’s only once, I suppose I could take you up high enough to see the land.”
“Really?” Oguna looked up quickly, and Sugaru grinned at his expression.
“You’re rejoicing too soon. Don’t blame me if you get the fright of your life. The Misumaru is capable of things you’ve never even dreamed of.”
“It won’t scare me.”
“Remember you said that.”
Sugaru shot up into the air with Oguna—straight up, higher than when he had looked for Oguna at sea, far higher than he had ever been. When he had reached his limit, the air was thin and as cold as ice, and the speed of their fall was such that he thought his flesh would be sliced to shreds. Oguna, it seemed, did not know what was happening or even where he was. Sugaru yelled into his ear. “What you want to see is below you. And don’t you dare faint. Take a good look at it while you can.”
Through the cracks in the clouds the earth looked like a gray blanket. Peering down at the earth, Oguna finally understood what it was and let out a yell. Dropping through the clouds, he saw an immense landscape spread out below—the whole country surrounded by a jagged coastline, a sight that only birds had ever seen before. The river along which he had been standing was quite short, a silver ribbon stretching to the bay of an inland sea. The plain, dotted by the occasional forest, stretched on beyond the marshes as far as the hills that bound it to the north and west. Oguna could see houses in some of the low-lying areas. Everything looked small enough to grasp in his hand. He held his breath and stared. From this height, where even the colors faded, humans seemed completely insignificant, and their frantic scramble to acquire land, meaningless.
Oguna was so quiet that Sugaru glanced over at the boy, wondering if he had indeed fainted. But Sugaru was disappointed. Oguna was simply gazing saucer-eyed at the scene below, forgetting even fear.
“All right. You’ve seen enough. We’re going back.”
“Wait—can’t we stay just a little longer?”
“You want to smash into the ground?”
Just as Sugaru was about to return to their original spot, he felt something familiar … a faint jingling that seemed to call him.
What’s that?
But the next instant their feet had touched the ground and the sensation was gone. Recollecting himself, Sugaru was startled to hear Oguna laughing excitedly.
“Sugaru, you’re amazing!” Oguna said between gasps. “I never imagined it would be like that. It’s just as you said. I can’t believe it. Simply amazing.”
Sugaru was reminded of how babies squeal with delight when held high in the air, fearing no danger. “I’m not doing it again,” he said brusquely. “The Misumaru isn’t for entertainment.”
“Do you often do that?”
“Fairly often, yes.”
“I always wished that I could fly like a bird,” Oguna said wistfully. “I’d love to wing through the sky, free from the limitations imposed on mortal men. The more I know about myself, the more I feel like I can’t move, like I’m stuck. That’s my fate, I guess. Sometimes I feel so trapped I can’t breathe.”
Sugaru suddenly recalled how Toko had spoken many times of freeing Oguna. Perhaps through the strange bond that joined them she had sensed his deep despair. Perhaps, even while they were apart, she had somehow known that the blood of the God of Light, flowing so thickly in his veins, prevented him from finding a place where he belonged.
I think I’m beginning to understand why I no longer want to kill him.
“I’m leaving,” Sugaru said, almost to himself. Oguna looked at him in surprise. “I’m going to use the Misumaru to travel around Hidakami. I may find Toko or I may find the fifth magatama. I felt something just now.”
Oguna did not protest. “You’re free to do as you like,” he said.
Sugaru looked at him, disgruntled. “You could at least say that you want to go look for Toko yourself. Are you really sure you want to see her again?”
Oguna returned his gaze with an anguished look. “If I were in a position to say that, I wouldn’t bother envying you.”
A YOUNG FISHERMAN walked along a beach. His steps across the white sand were light as he headed for home. His name was Matachi, and his tanned arms and legs moved with a vigor born of the rolling waves and the sea breeze. Having just heard the most extraordinary news from his friends, he was full of excitement and his steps quickened. As he passed through a windbreak of black pines, his house came into view. He lived in a small village with his elderly mother—and a guest who had joined them only three months ago.
“Hey, Ma! I’m home!” Matachi called out in a strong voice tempered by the sea. He glanced around the room hastily. “Where’s the girl?”
“If you mean Miya, she’s out back.” His gray-haired mother raised her head from her needle and thread and frowned up at her son. “You never used to hang around the house during the day. Not before Miya came.”
Matachi pretended not to hear. “I brought you some kinme.” He held out a fish and then said in a rush. “I heard the most amazing thing. They’re saying that a warship full of soldiers came up the river to the bay. The commander is a prince dressed in shining armor. Nothing like this has ever happened to us. I’ve got to tell Miya.”
“A prince in shining armor? What on earth is he doing here?”
“I wish I knew.” Matachi headed for the door.
“Matachi,” his mother said sharply. “Don’t get too involved with that girl. We’re only taking care of her for the time being. Remember. She comes from the palace of the Dragon King under the sea.”
Matachi cast her a sullen look and left. Walking behind their house, he came upon a young woman crouching in a small field. She was brushing the dirt from the vegetables that they would pickle for the winter. It moved him just to see her perform such an ordinary task. The girl he and his mother called Miya was slimmer and fairer than the village girls. When they had found her lying on the beach she had looked like a wilted flower.
The girl, sensing someone there, turned and smiled at him. “Welcome home, Matachi.”
This simple greeting also made the youth happy. Until a month ago, the girl had hardly been able to speak. “Aren’t you cold?” he said. “The sun’s going down.”
“No, I’m
fine.” She held up a turnip. “Look how big it is. This was one of the first things we planted after I came here.”
Matachi wished he had more things like this to share with her, more ways for them to understand one another. He did not care where she came from. All that mattered was that she was here now. “A prince is coming to Tsuno-ore north of here. He’ll be splendidly dressed. Would you like to go and see? All the young people from the village are going.”
Miya’s eyes widened. “A prince?”
“A prince from the capital far to the west. A descendant of the God of Light.”
The girl’s face tensed, the relaxed expression suddenly wiped from her face. Matachi feared that she would revert to the way she had been when they had first found her—totally unresponsive. Hastily he retracted his statement. “It’s okay, Miya. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to go. Forget what I said. Please don’t be angry.”
Miya smiled weakly. “Why would I be angry? I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Her smile restored his confidence for he assumed it meant she agreed with him. “Miya, you should get out more. You’re looking much better. You need to have some fun. You don’t know anything about this place yet.” Recalling his mother’s words, he hesitated for a moment but then said, “I want you to like my village. I want you to get to know my friends. If it’s all right with you, I’d like you to stay here with us forever. To me, you’re just a regular girl, and like regular girls, I’m sure you don’t like being alone, right?”
Miya remained silent for a long time, her eyes downcast. Finally, she looked at him and said, “You’re right. I’m just an ordinary girl like any other.”
“Then let’s go together tomorrow,” Matachi said, his voice lively. “You’ll come, won’t you?”
“To see the prince?”
“Or to do anything else. It doesn’t really matter to me.”
“I’d like to see that prince,” Miya said, as if deep in thought. “I want to do what everyone else does.”
“Great! And Ma won’t be able to get in the way then, either.”
“Is that so?” His mother was standing right behind him, her hands on her hips. “Even on my old legs, I can walk as far as Tsuno-ore. If he’s that marvelous, I want to see him too.”
2
“MOTHER,” MIYA SAID. She was putting wood on the fire, getting ready to make breakfast. Matachi’s mother turned toward her, thinking that the girl must have made yet another mistake. Miya was not a very accomplished cook. But that was not why. “Would it …” Miya said hesitantly. “Would it be all right for me to stay here? As a daughter of this house?”
Matachi’s mother was not surprised. She had been vaguely aware that Miya had lain awake all night. “Are you sure you mean that?” she asked.
“If—if you’d be willing to let me stay.”
“Are you saying that you’re in love with Matachi?”
Miya blushed. “He’s a good person. And I’m indebted to him for rescuing me.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but the answer is no.” Like most fisherwomen, Matachi’s mother was blunt. “You’re a good girl, but that’s quite different from marrying my son. I don’t know what kind of difficulty you’re in, but I don’t see how you could ever fit in as the wife of a fisherman in our little village. I saw what happened—the Dragon King himself carried you to shore during that storm. How could a girl who has been touched by the sea god possibly be content living here? Why would you even think of it?”
Miya looked down and twisted her fingers together. “Because I want to forget what happened. I’ve lost my power. I’m nothing but an ordinary girl. If I can, I want to start over, here, where you found me …” Her voice trembled. “There’s no place left for me to go.”
Matachi’s mother’s expression softened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll only get sick again. There’s no rush. Take your time and think about it. I’ll forget that I even heard what you just said. And don’t even suggest it to Matachi, all right? You know he’d just go bouncing all over the place like a puppy dog.”
Miya nodded silently, but something about her had changed. She looked troubled, as if annoyed at being unable to suppress her anxiety. On impulse, Matachi’s mother asked, “Do you know something about this prince who’s coming?”
Miya took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “No,” she answered in a strange voice. “I don’t. That’s why I want to go and see him.”
SEVERAL DAYS HAD PASSED when Sugaru suddenly materialized in front of Oguna and his men on the path to Tsuno-ore. There was no need to ask how his search had gone. Oguna could tell at a glance that it had been unsuccessful.
Sugaru scowled. “I’m ready to give up.” He vented his frustration on Oguna, who had dismounted and ordered his men to take a short break. “The only time I sensed something calling me was when I flew with you that first day. Since then I haven’t felt a thing, no matter where I went. Why?”
“How should I know?” Oguna answered. “If you only heard it that one time, then you should think about how it differed from the other times. Can’t you recreate those same conditions?”
Sugaru grabbed Oguna by the collar. “Come with me then.”
“What?” Oguna said, frowning.
“It’ll only take a minute,” Sugaru said, not waiting for an answer. “I just want to test something. The only difference I can think of is that you were with me that time.”
Thus it was that they rose high above the earth for a second time. And Sugaru found out for certain. Something was calling him, and it was because he was with Oguna.
“I just don’t get it,” Sugaru said when they had landed. “Why you? You’re not even a Tachibana. Why are you able to make the magatama respond?”
“How should I know? And besides, I can’t even hear it,” Oguna said, understandably confused to be the brunt of Sugaru’s exasperation.
“Then why did you choose to go north? You said you were going to Tsuno-ore, right? Why did you decide to do that?”
Oguna looked at him blankly. “I just felt it was the right thing to do. There was no special reason.”
The sound of the summons had come from the north. Sugaru groaned. “Oh, never mind. I can guess.” It must be Toko. The Misumaru is responding to Oguna’s subconscious knowledge.
“What can you guess?” Oguna asked, intrigued.
“That it works better when I’m with you. I’m coming to Tsuno-ore.”
THE BEACH was jammed with people. Everyone from children to the elderly had gathered to see the prince and his procession. Even for those friendly toward Mahoroba, the capital was so far away it seemed like a dream world and its inhabitants imaginary. Matachi and his mother believed Miya to have come from under the sea; to them the emperor in the capital seemed just as distant as the Dragon King. Just as they had unquestioningly welcomed the girl from another world, so too they welcomed the prince.
“Ma, shall I carry you on my back?” Matachi asked. The crowd was so large that they were standing some distance away on a dike lined with pine trees. The procession from Mahoroba looked very small, their heads half hidden.
“I can see properly,” his mother answered. “I saw his face shining.”
“That was his helmet, not his face.”
Miya stood silently beside them. They were on the dike because she had not wanted to go any farther into the crowd.
“Perhaps we’re a little too far away,” Matachi said, glancing at her. Miya had been staring intently at the procession, but she turned her eyes toward him and her face relaxed.
“No, this is fine,” she said, and then whispered almost to herself, “It’s perfect because it’s far away. From this distance, I can see how separate we are. A peaceful life would never suit those people. They’re different.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Miya continued quietly, “I can tell. They’re beautiful … and sad.”
Matachi looked around the pine grove and then tapped hi
s mother on the shoulder. “Look, over there. Isn’t that Toneh from the next village? You haven’t seen her for a while, have you?”
As soon as his mother had gone off to talk with her friend, Matachi grabbed Miya by the hand. “You must be bored. Let’s go over there.” The waves washing the shore left trails of white foam on the sand. Plovers ran about on their tiny feet, pecking for food. Matachi led her to a place where they could overlook the sea. There he stopped and looked into her face, his eyes dazzled. If Miya knew what he intended, she gave no sign as her eyes followed the plovers.
“Miya,” Matachi said earnestly. “Stay with me. I’ll work hard. I won’t let anything make you sad. It doesn’t matter to me where you came from. Ma says that you’ll leave someday, but I don’t believe her. You want to stay here, don’t you, Miya? You want to be part of our village, right?”
Miya said nothing, but when she turned her face to him she looked as though she were about to cry.
“I’ll help you. If you feel the same way, I’ll take care of you all my life. Say yes, Miya. Don’t you like me?”
Miya hesitated for a long time before she opened her mouth. Then finally she began. “I—” But what she had been about to say, Matachi would never know. She gasped suddenly and froze, looking as though she had seen a ghost. Sensing something behind him, Matachi turned around and saw a young man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was tall and lanky and his hair, tied in a ponytail, was a startling red. Around his neck he wore a necklace of many colored stones.
“So there you are.” His voice was low. “I’ve been searching all over for you. In fact, the word search doesn’t even do it justice.”
The girl’s face turned so pale her veins could be seen under the skin. She was too stunned to even cringe, but when the young man reached out to grab her, she pushed his hand away and ran behind Matachi.
“No!”
“Miya, who is that?” Matachi demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” the young man fumed. “What’s wrong with you, Toko?”
“I don’t know you. And I’m not Toko.”
Extending his arms to shield her, Matachi said fiercely, “Leave her alone. Didn’t you hear her? She says she doesn’t know you. So hurry up and get lost.”
Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince Page 40
