Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince

by Noriko Ogiwara

  Tales of the Magatama

  Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince

  Tales of the Magatama

  Mirror Sword

  and Shadow Prince

  Noriko Ogiwara

  Illustrations by Miho Satake

  Translated by Cathy Hirano

  HAIKASORU

  SAN FRANCISCO

  Hakucho Iden

  Copyright © 1991, 1996, 2005 by Noriko OGIWARA

  Original edition published in Japan in 1996 under the title

  “Hakucho Iden” by Tokuma Shoten Publishing Co., Ltd.

  Published in arrangement with Tokuma Shoten Publishing

  Co., Ltd. through Japan Uni Agency, Inc.

  Illustrations copyright © 2005, 2011 by Miho Satake

  English translation © 2011 VIZ Media, LLC

  No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holders.

  HAIKASORU

  Published by

  VIZ Media, LLC

  295 Bay Street

  San Francisco, CA 94133

  www.haikasoru.com

  ISBN: 978-1-4215-4190-7

  Haikasoru eBook Edition

  Mirror Sword

  and Shadow Prince

  PART I

  The Mirror Sword

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Promise

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Shadow Prince

  CHAPTER THREE

  Treason

  CHAPTER FOUR

  War Damage

  PART II

  The Misamaru

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sugaru

  CHAPTER SIX

  Newborn

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Bandits

  PART III

  Where the White Bird Flies

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Apparition

  CHAPTER NINE

  Reunion

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Last Magatama

  Afterword

  PART I

  THE MIRROR

  SWORD

  Oh, Sword that I left by my beloved’s bed,

  If only I had you now.

  —Kojiki

  chapter

  one

  THE

  PROMISE

  The Promise

  TOKO HAD MASTERED the perfect pout. Cheeks puffed out, mouth turned down, her face held not a trace of charm. The effect was all the more striking because she was decked out in her finest outfit, one worn only at this special time of year. It was a new crimson robe with a bright green sash and a bow of colored string tying up her hair. It was Toko’s nature to laugh hard when happy and cry hard when sad, and therefore, she would never live up to the standards of her nurse, Tatame.

  “Sulking won’t make any difference,” the exasperated Tatame said. “You’re twelve years old. You should know that by now. Whether you like it or not, no means no! Oguna can’t go with you to the shrine.”

  Toko lifted her chin defiantly. “But that’s not what I’m saying. What I said was, if Oguna can’t go to the shrine, then from now on I won’t go either.”

  “Will you please listen—”

  Light footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, and Toko’s mother, Matono, appeared in the doorway, a long silk scarf trailing down from her shoulders. “Really, Toko! Hurry up! We’re leaving. The chief and his family are almost here.”

  Although Toko faltered briefly at the sight of her mother, her stubborn expression did not budge. “Mother, why can’t Oguna go to the shrine with us? He’s part of our family too, right? That’s what you and father always say, so why isn’t he allowed to see the high priestess? It’s not fair. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Matono and Tatame glanced meaningfully at each other.

  “I want you to treat Oguna the same way you treat me,” Toko continued. “You’ve always said that he’s your son, and this year I’m going to stay home to prove it.”

  “Toko, New Year’s with the high priestess—the Keeper of the Sacred Shrine—is the most important event of the year for the Tachibana clan. You belong to the Mino chief’s line, and therefore you cannot neglect this duty.”

  “But, Mother—”

  “Toko, please sit down.” Matono crossed the room and knelt purposefully in front of her daughter. It was time to make things clear, she thought. Toko was no longer a child to be humored. “Oguna is not a member of our clan. I’m sure you know that as we’ve made no secret of it. The blood of the Tachibana does not run in his veins.”

  Toko’s lips began to tremble. “But, Mother, you said—”

  “Oguna is part of our family. Both your father and I love him as our son. But that’s not what I’m talking about. Those born into the chief’s clan have a heavy responsibility—they must protect the land of Mino. The two of you are different. You’re a girl and a Tachibana, born to receive and pass on the power of the high priestess. It’s about time you understood that. Oguna will never bear the duty of Tachibana blood.”

  “What duty?”

  “You’ll know soon enough. When you become a woman.” Matono sighed. She wanted to let her daughter enjoy the innocence of childhood for as long as possible. “Right now your duty is to go to the shrine. And I won’t take no for an answer. If you understand, then hurry up and put your shoes on. Your father is already outside waiting.”

  When Toko’s mother spoke firmly, she was even more formidable than Toko’s father. Matono was, after all, the high priestess’s niece. Toko had no choice but to obey. “All right,” she said reluctantly. Standing up, she hurried from the room, her long sleeves fluttering.

  Her mother frowned as she watched her go. The fact that Toko could not open her mouth without mentioning Oguna nor part with him for even a day did not bode well for the future.

  OGUNA HAD BEEN pacing about in the darkness of a connecting passageway, afraid to enter the room where the women debated, yet unable to leave. It was late at night and torches crackled and popped loudly in the cold, clear air. He could hear the jingling of harnesses and the cheerful voices of men being served sake in the brightly lit front yard. It was the same every New Year’s Eve.

  Oguna had not expressed any desire to join the procession. He hated conflict or pushing to get his own way, and he would have done anything to avoid causing trouble, especially in this house. But Toko was his complete opposite. She was like the whirl of a storm; Oguna often felt his job was to keep her out of trouble. Whenever Toko, convinced that she must stand up for her reserved foster brother, took it upon herself to be Oguna’s advocate, troubles such as this arose. By the time Toko came out of the room, Oguna was beside himself. He rushed over to greet her, immensely relieved despite the disappointment that clouded her face.

  The two were identical in height and build and even in the length of their hair, resembling a pair of emperor and empress dolls made from the same mold. Only the color of their clothes distinguished them as boy and girl. No one who saw their faces, however, would mistake them for twins. Toko had the lively eyebrows and oval face characteristic of her clan, whereas nobody in this part of the country resembled Oguna.

  “It’s no use,” Toko said, crestfallen.

  Oguna peered into her face. “What did you expect? Even among your own clan, only the chief’s line is allowed to go to the shrine. And besides, why would I want to go and meet someone as scary as the high priestess? I’d much rather stay behind.”

  “Don’t be stupid!” Toko snapped so forcefully that the bow in her hair wobbled. “Grown-ups are so unfair. They say they’re going to treat us equally, but they only do it when it’s convenient, like when they want to punish us. If so
meone says they’re going to do something, they should do it. Don’t you think so?”

  “If they were hiding the fact that I’m adopted, then I guess it would be unfair,” he said, sounding indifferent. “But they aren’t. I’m a foundling and that’s just the way it is.”

  Toko frowned. “But every year on this day, you start thinking about that, right? I know you. When I’m up on the mountain with Mother and Father, you’re down here wondering where your real mother is. I can’t stand that.”

  “No, I don’t. Not really,” Oguna protested without conviction.

  “You know what I think? I think that you’d feel much better if you just knew who your parents were. On New Year’s Day, the high priestess reads our fortunes. She interprets our dreams, tells our horoscopes. Sometimes she burns bones and speaks in oracles. I’m sure if you asked her, she could even tell you about your birth. It makes me so mad that you can’t go.”

  Oguna let out a laugh. “How could I possibly ask her? Only clansmen are allowed to meet her. Toko, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Who cares if I’m not making sense!” she retorted with very Toko-like logic.

  “It doesn’t really matter anyway,” Oguna said cheerfully. “Because as far as I’m concerned Matono is my one and only mother. And I’m not lying. I really mean that. After all, she’s the one who nursed me as a baby. Besides, I was probably born from a bird anyway.”

  It was a long-standing joke in their family that Oguna had hatched from an egg found in a birds’ nest that came floating down the river. Toko’s expression relaxed.

  “As long as you feel that way, I guess it’s okay. Don’t forget what you just said though.”

  “Off you go to the shrine. I’ll go to the chief’s hall and wait for you there, just like I did last year. I hear they’ve got some engineers up from the capital to build a dam and make a pond. It’s a big project. I’ve been wanting to go and take a look.”

  Oguna was fascinated with construction of any kind, although it was still with a boy’s innocent absorption. If he heard that a house was being built or any other project was under way he always went to watch. Toko, who just had to do whatever Oguna did, responded eagerly. “I want to go too. Let’s go together when I come back from the shrine. Don’t you dare go without me, okay?”

  “All right, all right,” Oguna said. It did not even occur to him to disobey. This was the affinity that always kept them together.

  ONETSUHIKO, the village headman, was already mounted at the front of the procession, which stood ready to depart, torches in hand. “Aha! Here comes my little princess, all dressed in her finest,” he bellowed when he saw Toko come out of the hall. “Let’s see your finery. Come show your father, now. Ah, yes. Beautiful, beautiful. What do you say, Toko? How about riding with me?”

  Toko haughtily ignored her father’s teasing remarks and walked over to her own horse. Her father, who doted on his only daughter, was the one person still unaware that she had begun to treat him with a hint of disdain. “Well, that wasn’t very friendly. Why on earth is she so huffy today?” he asked his wife.

  “She was insisting that if Oguna couldn’t come to the shrine, she wouldn’t go either.”

  “I suppose that makes sense from a child’s point of view. But we’d better hurry. We don’t want to keep the chief waiting.” He gave the order to depart, and the attendants began to lead the horses as they set off into the night. It was a moonless New Year’s Eve, and torchbearers walked in front while the ranks of men sang in low voices. Matono spoke to her husband, who rode alongside her.

  “Perhaps it’s about time we started thinking of Oguna’s future. I thought it was still a long way off, but those two, they’ve turned twelve already.”

  “Twelve? Hmm. But they’re still children.”

  “That’s true now, but children always grow up much quicker than their parents expect.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Oguna …” The boy had not made much of an impression on the headman of Kamitsusato. He was like a shadow, always there whenever Toko stirred up mischief but never causing any trouble on his own. This ran contrary to the headman’s expectations of what boys should be like. “I don’t think he’s suited to being a warrior. He’s too quiet. Maybe he should study under a scholar.”

  “That’s an idea,” Matono agreed and then added with feeling, “He’s a good boy. I love him as if I had given birth to him myself. Even when he was a baby, before he had ever been scolded, he never made a fuss, as if he already knew his station in life. He has such intelligent, stoic eyes … That’s why I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to end up on the bottom, always having to obey others’ orders. But I can’t see him escaping that fate if he stays here. I wonder if we could send him to the capital.”

  “There’ve been a lot of people from the capital in the chief’s village recently. Perhaps the chief can use his influence to help Oguna. I’ll ask.”

  Matono pictured how Toko would rant and wail if she heard that Oguna was to be sent away. The thought of it was beyond her imagination. She smiled sadly. “Yes, it hurts me to think of separating those two, but in the end it will be much better for them both. Now they’re like puppies playing, but in a few years that won’t be the case. When Toko learns that Tachibana women are not free to love whom they will … if she already loves someone, it will cut her more deeply than any knife.”

  She stopped abruptly and glanced furtively at her husband, wondering how he had taken this last statement. She had touched on a rather delicate subject. But Onetsuhiko was preoccupied with the political problems between the emperor in the capital and Mino, and he answered absently, the way he always did. “Yes, yes, it’s just as you say.”

  Matono suppressed her irritation with a sigh and vowed not speak to her husband for some time.

  THE TACHIBANA WERE a matrilineal clan that revolved around the high priestess, guardian of the land. So it had been since long ago, before the youngest son of the God of Light had founded the emperor’s line and ruled over the land of Toyoashihara from Mahoroba. Although Chief Kamubonehiko was named ruler of Mino in the registrar in the capital, he had married into this position and it was his daughter who held the right to succession.

  The true ruler of Mino was, and had always been, the high priestess who served the guardian deity enshrined on the mountain. But because she must abide with the god, listen for his voice and convey his messages, she never left the forest shrine, and few people were permitted to meet her. New Year’s was the one time when she revealed herself to a large group of people. The prophecies she made at this ceremony were the most important guidelines for the coming year.

  The procession from Kamitsusato joined that of the chief, forming a long line that wound up the mountain road to the northeast. Though no snow lay on the ground, it was a night to freeze even the stars in the cloudless vault above, and the pilgrims’ breath rose white in the darkness as they moved slowly up the hill, the red flames of their torches floating along the road. To Toko, the black shadows of the trees looming in the torchlight and the men’s ghostly faces appeared even more surreal in the taut, cold air. Praying that they would reach the shrine soon, her thoughts wandered to the high priestess.

  Toko saw her only on New Year’s Eve, and thus the priestess seemed imprisoned forever in the freezing winter at the edge of night, divorced from ordinary life. Though human in form, Toko was convinced she must be a frost spirit, for when the procession finally reached its destination at the end of the long journey, the shrine was not at all warm and there was barely a trace of fire to heat it.

  As always, the high priestess sat on a raised platform flanked by two younger, but still middle-aged, handmaidens. Though petite, her long, shining white hair enveloped her like a robe of light so that she seemed larger than life. It was her hair that made Toko think of frost. As it had been white for at least as long as Toko could remember, the high priestess must have been extremely old. When she chanted prayers, her monotonous vo
ice resonated like the wind in a hollow tree or a stone cavern. Watching the priestess, Toko suddenly felt chilled and uneasy.

  If Oguna had been with her, they could have poked one another surrepti-tiously, but she had not even that for consolation. Toko looked around at her relatives as they sat listening meekly, and her eyes came to rest upon the eldest daughter of the chief’s family, Lady Akaru. Her beautiful eyes were cast down, one cheek lit by the glow of a torch and her long black hair cascading over a lustrous red robe. Almost seventeen, her beauty was unparalleled even amongst her own kin, and Toko, who was usually indifferent to appearances, was irresistibly drawn to her.

  She’s grown even more beautiful, Toko thought. But although Akaru was the most stunning woman in Mino, it was not for her looks but for her kind and gentle nature that Toko loved her. Neither piercing nor cold, her beauty seemed to emanate from the purity of her heart, fragrant and sweet like a flower that made people smile just to look at. No matter how she tried, Toko knew she could never mimic the grace of Lady Akaru’s most casual gesture.

  Toko’s stare was so intent that the young woman glanced up in surprise. When she realized it was Toko, she did not scowl but returned her gaze with smiling eyes that seemed to say, Be patient. It’s almost sunrise. Toko looked down and suppressed a smile. That’s why I love her so much, she thought.

  At last, the day began to dawn. The scattered clouds above her head remained dark and the stars still glittered, but far beyond the eastern mountains the horizon began to glow, as if there lay a land of delight beyond hand’s reach that she could faintly glimpse from the darkness in which she stood. She thought it must stay that way forever, but after a certain moment, the sky began to lighten and the sun pushed through the clouds, tossed into the air like a ball of molten gold, the fruit of heaven. The assembly watched reverently as the light poured over them and then looked at one another and laughed with delight.

  Like every other year, drowsiness overtook Toko as soon as they welcomed the year’s first sunrise. The amazake, a thick beverage of fermented rice served to warm them, only made it worse. By the time they were ushered into the hall to hear the high priestess’s prophesies, Toko was barely conscious of what was happening and stumbled blindly after her parents. How long she remained oblivious she did not remember, but when she suddenly came to herself and sat up properly, the chief had already finished his audience and Lady Akaru was sitting by the high priestess before the bone-burning kiln. Her mother and father were both listening intently, holding their breath so as not to miss a word. What’s going on? Toko wondered.