Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince

by Noriko Ogiwara

  Only when he thought of Toko, so stubborn and single-minded, did he feel some comfort. She, at least, would probably never forget her promise. But she was a lady of the Tachibana clan, and he was smart enough to realize that someday she would be beyond his reach. She would eventually become a noblewoman like Lady Akaru, and even if she did remain true to him, she would not be allowed to put him first.

  What would it be like, he wondered, if someone devoted his entire life to me, like Nanatsuka has done for the prince? He sighed. I wonder how the prince feels about having so many people give their hearts to him. I suppose he has never in his life thought that no one needed him.

  Oguna helped Nanatsuka tidy the room where they had stayed. Nanatsuka was well aware of the boy’s disappointment, but by now he also knew that Oguna would never mention it. He wished Oguna felt free to let his emotions show. Nanatsuka also regretted having to leave him behind, and the boy’s self-control made him sad. Oguna was so like the prince and yet in some ways the complete opposite, something Nanatsuka was reminded of every time he saw the look of surprise on Oguna’s face at a simple act of kindness or consideration. For this reason, his affection for Oguna differed from his feelings for the prince.

  “Don’t worry. When I’m gone, you won’t be left on your own. You’ll have new teachers,” Nanatsuka said. “You have a lot to learn, and I can only teach you a small part.”

  “I’d be satisfied if I could just become like you,” Oguna said in a small voice.

  “No. That would never do. You’re training to be the prince’s shadow, not mine. You still have to learn numbers and how to read, which I’ve never mastered. You like engineering, don’t you? You’ll need those skills if you want to build.”

  “Numbers?” Oguna’s face brightened. “I was trying to learn on my own a little. I want to know how to calculate, too.”

  “That’s the spirit! You work hard at your studies while I’m gone. I’ll come back to see you whenever I can.”

  Just as Nanatsuka had said, three new teachers were assigned to him: one for math, another for reading and writing, and the third for martial arts. He had no time to miss Nanatsuka. Plunged headlong into a full schedule, he had so much to remember for each lesson he felt his brain would melt. His teachers were fussy about manners and movement too, and they drilled palace etiquette into him mercilessly. In martial arts, his instructor trained him at sword and pike, and grappling as well. Although Nanatsuka’s training had hardened Oguna’s muscles, it still wasn’t easy.

  The prince and Nanatsuka came to see him once in a while, but because they spent most of their time traveling to distant territories, they were rarely even in the capital. Although Oguna could not hope to grow as close to his new teachers as he had been to Nanatsuka, the subjects they taught drew his interest and he devoted himself to learning everything the son of an emperor was expected to know, including astronomy, the almanac, and history. His speed in math, in particular, astonished his teachers. None of them ever guessed, however, that his enthusiasm for learning stemmed from loneliness.

  The days and months flew by. Four years passed, and Oguna turned sixteen without fulfilling his promise to Toko.

  3

  THAT SUMMER Oguna grew like a bamboo shoot. With every new notch marking his height on the wooden post, he thought of Toko. How much had she grown under that distant sky? She would have to be a very tall woman to reach even the fourth notch on the post, yet he could not imagine her as anything but his height, her eyes level with his.

  His sixteenth summer passed uneventfully. He studied as usual, finished reading several scrolls, and honed his fighting skills to the point where he occasionally even defeated his instructor. Prince Oh-usu had taken Nanatsuka off on another journey early in the year, and the hall seemed quiet and dreary. The only real change was that Oguna now tied his hair in loops on either side of his head like the prince instead of cutting it in the childish bob he had worn since he arrived. By the time the prince and Nanatsuka returned, summer was already over and red dragonflies heralded the coming of fall.

  Nanatsuka, his beard thicker than before, strolled up one sunny afternoon when Oguna was washing himself after sword practice. “Have you been eating properly?” he asked as if he had not been gone for over half a year.

  Turning around, Oguna’s face lit up. “Nanatsuka!”

  He has the same bright smile as the prince now, Nanatsuka thought. He was flattered, for he knew that Oguna still shared this unguarded side of himself with very few people.

  “I haven’t seen you since New Year’s,” Oguna said. “How was Izumo?”

  “Izumo? It’s a dangerous place. But the trouble’s over, at least for now. The prince plans to stay in the capital for a while.”

  “Good!” Oguna said. “When he’s gone so long, the maidservants get bored and won’t leave me alone.”

  Nanatsuka opened his mouth wide and laughed heartily. “That’s great. So you can actually double for the prince now, at least in that regard.”

  Oguna gave him a puzzled look. Though the boy’s expression was childlike, his slim, tall figure resembled the prince more than ever, especially with his new hairstyle. After close scrutiny, Nanatsuka decided that Oguna might even pass for the prince from a distance. “You’ve grown again since I saw you last,” he grunted.

  “A whole finger’s length. If I keep on like this, I’ll outgrow the prince and become as tall as you.”

  “That will never do. The prince would have to wear heeled clogs in order to keep up.”

  Oguna laughed. With a graceful movement that reflected his years of training, he adopted a wrestling stance, inviting Nanatsuka to join him. This had become their ritual whenever they were reunited.

  They grappled with one another on the flat grassy space beside the well until, as always, Nanatsuka threw Oguna to the ground. Although he had grown, Oguna didn’t stand a chance against Nanatsuka, who was still a head taller and more than twice his girth. The ritual was purely intended to test Oguna’s strength.

  Oguna lay panting on the ground. “So what do you think?” he asked. “Am I stronger than a mosquito bite?”

  “Hmm. Maybe. I suppose you might be as strong as a beetle bite.”

  “Beetles don’t bite,” Oguna protested, wiping his hand across his brow. “Now I’m all sweaty again, and I just finished washing.”

  Lying spread-eagled on his back, Oguna seemed totally at ease. He’s progressing well, Nanatsuka thought with satisfaction. Without the ability to relax, Oguna could not have learned to focus, and while he still needed to put on more muscle, his body was already tough and powerful.

  “I’m glad I can still make you sweat. Your math teacher was telling the prince that it’s you who makes him sweat now.”

  “Oh? I guess I’m not a very good pupil these days.”

  “I thought you liked numbers.”

  “Yes, but he’s so slow at calculating. And he insists on using only one method for solving problems. He’s too old and set in his ways.”

  “Oguna, you shouldn’t criticize your elders like that.”

  Oguna looked up at Nanatsuka, his expression contrite, much like the way he used to look when he was younger. “I’m sorry … Sometimes I just can’t help myself. Everyone keeps telling me how the prince would behave so that sometimes I start talking like I think he would.”

  “Considering that you’re training to be his double, I suppose that’s only to be expected,” Nanatsuka said, hastily concealing his consternation. Oguna had indeed sounded just like the prince at the same age. Although not a bad thing, it had caught Nanatsuka off guard. Gazing up at the blue sky, high, distant, and flecked with white tufts of cloud, he changed the subject.

  “We’ll be able to hunt together this autumn. Shall we take the cooking pot with us when the leaves turn color?”

  Oguna took to his feet and jumped around like a grasshopper. “Let’s go now,” he cried. “There’s no need to wait until the leaves change.”


  “But there won’t be any mushrooms and the venison won’t be as tasty.”

  “Let’s hunt birds then. The prince likes wildfowl right? I can shoot a bird in flight now, you know.”

  A grin spread across Nanatsuka’s face. “The game birds in Kasayama are especially good. You’re right. His Highness hasn’t eaten any for some time. He’ll be pleased. Let’s go and ask him.”

  When he heard their plan, the prince wanted to join them, but having just returned to the capital, he was far too busy and regretfully conceded that they should go without him. “If you catch a lot,” he said, “take some to my mother for me. I haven’t been able to visit her for some time.” He smiled suddenly, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Oguna, you’ve never met my mother, Lady Inabi, have you?”

  He went to the back of the room and rummaged about in a drawer, pulling out an old hood very similar to the one he had worn when Oguna first met him in Mino. “I used to wear this whenever I wanted to travel incognito. Put this on when you visit her. I’m sure she’ll be astonished to see you. She’ll think the past has come to life.”

  In the last four years, the prince had also changed, but unlike with Oguna, the changes were barely perceptible. When his eyes gleamed mischievously as they did now, he seemed not to have changed at all.

  “Considering that I’ve grown much older, I doubt that Lady Inabi will be deceived,” Nanatsuka said bluntly.

  “What are you talking about?” Prince Oh-usu retorted. “You haven’t changed a bit in all the years I’ve known you. You looked just the same when you were younger.” He tied the hood on Oguna with his own hands. “There. Now go and make sure you enjoy the hunt in my stead. You’d better change first though. I’ve never in my life worn such a drab outfit.”

  Oguna looked down at his plain white clothes.

  “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you wear anything but white since you first got here. Are you abstaining from wearing colorful clothing as some kind of invocation?”

  Oguna ducked his head, embarrassed by the prince’s probing. “No… . I just like it, that’s all. Do you really think it’s boring?”

  “It’s all right, I guess,” the prince said. He seemed surprised to hear that Oguna actually liked wearing white. “And I suppose that there will come a time when people will only be able to tell us apart by our clothes. But when you act as my double, don’t wear white. It wouldn’t do for people to think that the crown prince and heir to the throne can’t afford to dye his clothes.”

  OGUNA AND NANATSUKA raced through fields dotted with delicate purple and white bush clover. The swaying grasses spoke of the cool relief that followed summer’s heat, and the leaves had darkened to a deeper shade of green. The hunt went well, and it was still light when they decided they had bagged enough game: five pheasant, seven quail, and a duck. Oguna thoroughly enjoyed himself. He had not been out with Nanatsuka for a long time, and he was proud not only to demonstrate his progress to his teacher but also to confirm it for himself. Nanatsuka teased him about his past mistakes but only because Oguna had reached the stage where they could laugh about them.

  Walking back along the trail with a brace of birds slung over his shoulder, Oguna suddenly thought, Maybe now I can go back to Mino and show Toko what I’ve become. He had finally changed enough to be worthy of meeting her again.

  Oguna and Nanatsuka walked in companionable silence to the palace complex. As they passed through the outer gate on the east side, however, Nanatsuka glanced behind them and said, “Take a look at that. We won’t be able to use this road.”

  A magnificent palanquin draped with purple silk curtains was approaching the gate. Although it resembled those used by the emperor’s wives, the attendants accompanying it were far too many and they had clearly traveled a long way.

  When Oguna stopped to stare blankly at the procession, Nanatsuka grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the trees that lined the road. “Idiot! Hurry up and hide. That’s the Itsuki no Miya, high priestess of the royal shrine in Itsuse. If anyone finds out that we defiled the road in front of her by carrying dead game across it, we’ll be punished.”

  “The high priestess?” Oguna repeated, craning his neck to see even as he was being forced down into the bushes.

  “Yes. Haven’t you heard of her? She’s Princess Momoso, the emperor’s sister.”

  “Of course I have. But Itsuse is so far away. I never expected to see her here.”

  “Sometimes she comes in the fall for the harvest festival. She’s a little early this year though.”

  “That’s so unusual. The high priestess in Mino never leaves the shrine.”

  “The shrine to the God of Light was within the palace until just fifteen years ago. It was moved when Princess Momoso became the Itsuki no Miya. Rumor has it that she suffered terribly. She was obeying the omens, but still. They say that she wandered the country and slept out in the wind and rain until she finally settled in Itsuse. It must be a great hardship for a woman of royal birth to become high priestess.”

  From the shadow of the trees, Nanatsuka watched the palanquin pass slowly by. Oguna watched too, filled with pity for the woman inside. Knowing about her past made the palanquin’s pomp and splendor seem more understandable.

  The procession wended its way solemnly toward the emperor’s quarters, moving at a snail’s pace that strained Oguna’s and Nanatsuka’s patience. To make things worse, the way to Lady Inabi’s residence was now blocked. The emperor’s wives lived on the north side of the emperor’s palace, and there was only one official entrance into the compound.

  “Now what are we going to do?”

  “Why don’t we try going around the back?” Oguna suggested.

  Nanatsuka looked doubtful. “It would tarnish the prince’s reputation for us to go sneaking through the servants’ quarters to meet his mother.”

  “But the important thing is to deliver the birds, right?”

  Nanatsuka had to agree. They decided to take a narrow road that ran along the wall encircling the palace complex, a route they would normally never travel. Soon they came upon a scene invisible from the main thoroughfare. Everything absent from the clean and tidy main streets seemed to have been crammed into this space: the homes of lower-ranking servants, livestock sheds, troughs for washing, cesspools, and garbage heaps. The number of people living here amazed Oguna. Squat huts topped with mildewed thatch extended row upon row, their wooden walls touching and their doors so narrow they would have scraped his shoulders. No sunlight penetrated the dank interiors, and the air was rank with the stench of people’s lives. While the palace grounds were wide and spacious, life within the servants’ quarters made even the poorest villager in Mino seem blessed with space and freedom.

  Nanatsuka shook his head understandingly when Oguna pointed out the contrast. “Yet many people are here by choice,” he said. “After all, this is the capital.”

  Oguna felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about his own living quarters—a whole building with an inner garden all to himself. He found it hard to remember that the treatment he received was far above his station in life. Even in Mino, he hadn’t noticed until the village bullies had picked on him.

  Looking at the closely packed huts, he thought, I must never forget. My parents abandoned me. Nothing I have is mine by right. Everything I’m doing was made possible through the kindness of others.

  They finally reached the back gate of Lady Inabi’s residence. The outdoor cooking area bustled with preparations for the evening meal. Smoke rose from several wood-fired earthen ovens and servants hurried to and fro, hauling firewood, washing rice, bearing water jugs. Oguna and Nanatsuka, each carrying a brace of birds, came to a stop. They needed someone to usher them into Lady Inabi’s hall, but all the servants in the yard seemed too low in rank to set foot beyond the kitchen.

  “You’ll have to handle this,” Nanatsuka said. “I’ve never mastered the niceties of palace conversation.”

  Although nervous, Oguna had n
o choice. Looking around, he caught sight of a more genteel-looking young woman outside the gate. She was carrying a bamboo colander filled with leafy greens. Although her back was turned, she moved with a grace and elegance that belied her humble attire—a simple, short tunic of hemp cloth—and her hair, tied in a bun on top of her head, was much longer than an ordinary servant’s. He hurried after her and called out, “Excuse me. Could you help me?”

  The woman turned toward him warily. When she saw his face, she gave a small shriek and fled, dropping her colander and scattering the contents on the ground. Oguna stood stunned for a moment, but then collecting himself, he raced after her.

  “Wait!” he called, gasping for breath. “Please. Don’t run away. Don’t you recognize me? It’s me. Oguna, from Kamitsusato.”

  When she heard his name, the girl finally stopped running and turned, wide-eyed, gazing timidly at him as he ran up to her. “Oguna? Is that really you, Oguna? You’re not the prince?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Lady Akaru …” He stared at her in disbelief. Lady Akaru, who had come bedecked in gorgeous robes and precious beads to wed the emperor, now wore rags and was worked to the bone. She had grown very thin. Her cheeks had lost their plumpness and her eyes their sparkle, and her hands and feet looked painfully chapped.