A smile lit up her face. “What a charming child! Your selflessness is truly endearing. You must never change. There is no need to worry. As your mother, I will make sure that everything works out for the best.”
She seemed somehow to have missed the point, and Oguna, disconcerted, tried again. “But, Mother, I—”
Princess Momoso grabbed his hand and stood up. “Come with me,” she said. “There is something I wish to show you.”
Oguna followed, his thoughts in turmoil. He was shaken by his inability to respond to her question. She had asked Oguna what he wanted to do with his life, which had miraculously been saved, but he had thought only of returning to his old life. In retrospect, Oguna now saw that he had not chosen to be the prince’s shadow out of any real desire to do so. What, then, had he wanted?
All I wanted was to become stronger. The prince happened to come along at the right time and offer to train me in the capital. I simply went along with his plan. I never really thought about what I wanted to be. Anything would have done … And the reason he had wanted to grow strong was because that was what Toko had wanted. This made him even more confused. Had he ever in his life really aspired to become anything? Most people lived with some hope or aspiration, so wasn’t it strange not to know what he wanted? True, he had become a little stronger. But he had never thought about how he would use that strength or for what purpose.
Princess Momoso, her eyes fixed straight ahead, strode across the bridge to the precincts of the main sanctuary. The guards, seeing her expression, said nothing, but Oguna faltered when he noticed where they were.
“Uhm … aren’t men forbidden to enter?” he stammered.
“Yes, that is true. However, there are exceptions,” Princess Momoso said without glancing back. “The emperor of Mahoroba for instance. My older brother has set foot in this shrine. You are my son, and therefore why shouldn’t you?”
“But—”
“Be quiet now and follow me. The lady of the shrine bids you to enter, so what need have you to worry?”
Oguna stared at her. She conveyed the strength and nobility of one ac-customed to command. Clear and sharp as a white lily in a forest of cedar, she stood resolute and alone, magnetizing all yet allowing no one near. He had yearned for so long to discover who his parents were, yet now he did not know how to respond to this woman, his mother.
I think I’m afraid to love her.
Until then Oguna had only let himself love very reluctantly. There was nothing, no idea, no possession so precious to him that he could not bear to part with it, and very few people were irreplaceably dear. Toko, Matono, even if he included Nanatsuka and the prince, in his sixteen years of life he could count them all on one hand. This was his reality—Oguna was a young man with few strong attachments. With so little to love, there had rarely been anyone or anything he had hated or been unable to forgive. But looking at Princess Momoso, Oguna sensed that this stance might be impossible to maintain.
While her illogical, passionate love filled him with dread, it moved him deeply to think that this was how a mother loved her child. Yet how, he wondered, could his limited experience ever equip him to respond adequately, by either loving or hating her? The thought disturbed him. Oguna was terrified to let anyone in through the door he had kept so firmly closed. He had no idea what would happen if he let loose all the emotions he had pent up inside. Or perhaps it was because he did have an idea that he felt so afraid. Perhaps he lacked the courage to seek closer relationships because he sensed that deep in the dark behind that door lay feelings so violent and powerful they were beyond his control.
There was not a person in sight on the white sand-covered path that wound through the wooden buildings within the shrine precincts. The main shrine was built on a steep, forested slope, and the further into the grounds they walked, the higher they went, climbing up several flights of stairs. Princess Momoso walked ahead of him, never stopping or slowing her pace. Relieved to be out of public view, Oguna took this opportunity to stare at the architecture. At last they reached a building encircled by walls three layers deep. He assumed that this must be the inner shrine. The path stopped at a gate in the outer wall.
“Come,” Princess Momoso said, sliding the bolt open. “In here. This is where it is.”
A shiver ran up Oguna’s spine, an instinctive reaction that startled him. He felt defenseless, as if he had forgotten something important but had no idea what. Urged on by Princess Momoso’s compelling eyes, he stepped hesitantly through the gate.
They passed through two more gates and finally entered a small square enclosure paved in white sand. A plain wooden building raised on stilts, about the size of a granary, stood alone in the middle of the enclosure. After performing what looked like ritual movements, Princess Momoso climbed the steps to the double doors and pulled them slowly open. Turning her back on the darkness inside, she beckoned Oguna.
“Come and look. Tell me what you see.”
By now, Oguna was so nervous he could barely keep still. Although he dreaded looking inside, he forced himself to climb the stairs. With each step, it seemed as if an invisible force was trying to push him back. His body, defying his will, ached with the desire to run away.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he stood beside Princess Momoso and, gathering his courage, looked inside. To his surprise and relief, he could see nothing. The building appeared to be deeper than he had thought because the light from the door did not reach all the way inside. He was about to tell Princess Momoso that it was so dark he could not see anything, when he suddenly noticed a glittering in the blackness. At first he thought it must be the faint light reflecting off a crossbeam, but it was too distant. The more he looked, the more lights he saw, like twinkling stars.
Stars? Impossible!
But no matter how he stared, what he saw before him could only be the night sky full of stars. He could even discern the constellations. A cool wind on his face spoke of a vastness unconfined by walls or ceiling. To his surprise, he saw more stars at his feet and panicked to feel himself floating. At that moment a massive darkness rose like an enormous black cloud and obstructed the stars. Now only two stars burned, side by side, red and growing brighter. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise. The blazing orbs were eyes.
Oguna, his own eyes adjusting to the dark, saw before him a serpent as large as a small hill, coiled in the sky. It stared back at him, flicking its lightning-like tongue, and began to uncoil itself. Its body was as thick around as the trunk of a huge tree …
Oguna screamed, but the sound did not reach his ears. Never in his life had he experienced such terror as this. He never remembered how he managed to get down the stairs—perhaps he fell down them in his haste—but when he came to his senses he was curled up in a corner of the courtyard, his back against the wall, his body drenched with sweat and his teeth chattering so violently that they did not fit together.
Princess Momoso held him in her arms. “It is all right. You are safe. It was just a vision. See, it did not hurt you.” She stroked him soothingly. “Even the emperor fears it. Your fear is proof that royal blood runs in your veins. That is good. The lowly born and ignorant could not have experienced what you have felt.”
She half carried him to a building outside the gates and laid him down to rest in a small room. The color gradually returned to his face, but he still felt sick.
“What … was that?” he finally managed to ask.
Princess Momoso looked into his face and brushed the hair from his forehead. “I do not know. What you saw can only be seen by you. But tell me. What did it look like?”
“Like a serpent in the sky—” Oguna stopped abruptly, overcome by nausea.
“The descendants of the God of Light fear it,” Princess Momoso said. “I too wept at first and feared it. But women are born with the power to withstand it. That’s why a woman is always chosen as priestess. You, however, are a man, and so you cannot help your defenselessness. Still, it is rare fo
r anyone to fear it as much as you. Perhaps it is because your body resonates more strongly with the Sword than the body of anyone else in this world.”
“Sword?” Oguna asked, his eyes wide.
“Its true shape is a sword. It is one of the sacred treasures guarded in this shrine. It has many names. I call it the Mirror Sword, but you called it a serpent. That too is very close to its true essence, for it is also known as the Dragon Sword.”
“But I didn’t see a sword. I saw a real—”
“Of course you did,” Princess Momoso interrupted. “But it was just a vision. You should not fear it.”
“Not fear it?” Oguna exclaimed. “That’s impossible! I’ve been afraid of it all my life. How can I not fear it when there has never been anything in the world that terrified me more?” Now he finally understood. What he had just seen, that was what he had feared all along every time he saw a snake or a bolt of lightning. It made him feel faint to know that it actually existed, that it was so close. “It’s impossible for me not to be afraid.”
“Even so, you must overcome your fear. You must grasp the Sword in your hand.”
Oguna shrank and tried to back away from her. “I am never, ever, going near that thing again. I won’t do it.”
“Do not say that,” Princess Momoso said gently. “You have the power to take it. The more you fear it, the greater the power you will wield once you make it yours. You are my son. That you should be incapable of wielding the greatest power on earth is inconceivable.” She leaned toward him. “Surely you do not intend to carry that fear with you for the rest of your life? Sooner or later you will have to face and overcome it. Come, I will help you. I will make you a great man.”
Oguna groaned. “Let me go. Please. Let me go back to Mino. I don’t want to become a great man.”
“What good will it do to run away? Do you not wish to become strong? Here before you is a power that was made for you. All you need is a little courage and it will be yours.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Oguna was practically sobbing. “I just want to leave this place. Let me go, please.”
Princess Momoso’s expression turned fierce. “Can you not see that I am doing this for your sake? Listen to me. Not a single mouse can pass in and out of this sacred shrine without my permission. Know this: you will never leave this shrine until you take up the Sword.”
Oguna stared at her, his eyes brimming with tears. “Are you sure you’re my mother?” he asked weakly. “If you were really my mother, you wouldn’t force me to do something that I can’t bear. You would know that I couldn’t stand it …”
Now Princess Momoso’s eyes filled with tears and her face with pain. But still she insisted. “It is precisely because I am your mother that I tell you to do this. If I were not your mother, I would give in to momentary pity. But I am the one who bore you. I know that you are capable of succeeding. Do you think that it does not hurt me to see you suffer? No matter how difficult it may be, you must conquer the source of your fear. It is even more painful for me who must watch you do it … I will not leave your side. I am not asking you to fight for me. Please. Fight for your own sake.”
Oguna tried. But he simply could not bring himself to look upon the dragon. Many times he stood on the threshold of the shrine only to faint or be so overcome with nausea that he could not stand his ground. He had no appetite and could not even keep water down. Yet still he retched until finally he vomited only gastric fluid flecked with blood. Princess Momoso watched stolidly at first, but as Oguna became increasingly worn and haggard she could stand it no longer. “What is it that you want to expel so violently it makes you vomit? As if you could turn yourself inside out. Avoiding your fear will not help. You must face it. Look at it and ask yourself, ‘What is it?’”
When Oguna’s stomach had finally stopped heaving, he raised his exhausted face and looked at Princess Momoso. She was shaking with sobs. “Mother, were you able to face your fear?” he asked hoarsely.
She nodded. “Yes, I learned what my fear is. If you continue to reject it like this, you will never know what you need to know. Please. I beg of you. Do not reject it.”
Reject it? What does she think I’m rejecting? he wondered hazily.
“How I wish I could give you some of my own strength. So that you could see the rightness of the power within yourself. Ousu, take the Sword. If you do then surely your father will recognize you for who you are.” Princess Momoso took his hand and pressed it over her heart.
Startled by the soft touch of her breast, Oguna jerked his hand away. My father will recognize me?
“You told me that my father is a god,” he said. “Are you saying that taking the Sword will prove me to that god?”
“You could say that. It is proof of who you are.”
An idea began to take shape in his mind. Vague, half-formed thoughts were falling into place. He spoke slowly and deliberately. “You said that the only man allowed to enter this shrine is the emperor, right?”
Princess Momoso paused for a moment and then said, “Yes …”
“Has that sword been used since ancient times to test the emperor’s legitimacy?”
An even longer pause ensued. “If I said ‘yes,’” she finally answered, “what would you say?”
Oguna stood up abruptly. “I’m going back to the shrine.” He spoke with such violence that Princess Momoso stood paralyzed as she made to follow him. Stepping outside, Oguna felt the very air begin to stir. Clouds swelled in the sky, summoned by spiraling currents. Thunderclouds. Soon they would be right overhead. But he paid no attention, for the thing he feared most was much closer at hand. He passed through the three walls enclosing the shrine to stand before the place where it lay—the true shape of his fear, the dragon. The wind began to blow, tugging at his hair and clothes. A blue-black cloud bore down upon the trees behind the shrine. Oguna stared up at the building.
So many things would make sense if I were the emperor’s son, he thought. Why Princess Momoso said my father was a god. Why her servant tried to kill me when I was a baby. Why the princess wandered homeless. Why I look like Prince Oh-usu. Why she said my blood is pure. Why I could inherit the throne …
But Oguna did not want to know. The emperor and the princess were siblings. As ill-informed as he was, even he knew that such a union was a terrible sin. He did not want to know … But there was no turning back.
He climbed the stairs and stood at the top. Like before, he closed his eyes and wrenched the doors open. As he did so, he told himself, Open your eyes and look upon that which you fear most.
And there it was—a great writhing dragon with huge red eyes, an enormous jaw, and the poised head of a venomous snake rearing in rage. Oguna reeled but stood his ground—and he thought.
This is me; this revolting, repellent thing, the thing I fear most in the world, is me …
Opening its jaws wide, the snake lunged forward. Oguna saw its curved fangs above his head and its tongue beneath his feet, but he did not run. It swallowed him whole.
Curled in a ball, Oguna felt himself slide down the serpent’s throat. He was the snake, and having given up trying to expel it from his own gullet, he just let himself fall as far as he could go through the black heat of its belly. Then suddenly his feet touched firm ground and there beside him lay a sword, glowing faintly even in its sheath.
Ah. There it is. For some reason, he was not surprised. He picked it up. The dragon, the Sword and I, we are one and the same. So if I cut the dragon’s belly with this Sword, will I die?
He hesitated for a second but then decided that it was worth a try. Princess Momoso had said that he couldn’t turn himself inside out. If not, perhaps he could rip his way out instead. Pulling the Sword from its sheath, he turned toward the hot darkness around him and slashed with all his might. Light gushed from the wound that sliced the blackness.
Princess Momoso screamed and covered her head. Huge drops of rain pelted down in the purple darkness, and a thick streak
of lightning hit the ground with an ear-splitting roar. The earth shook, and a rumble that made her sick with dread sounded beneath her feet. Screams rose from every side. Shocked to her senses, she jumped up and ran out into the rain and through the gates to the inner shrine. Then she froze; the building was now a blazing pillar of flame.
“Ousu …”
As she watched, the posts beneath the building collapsed and crumbled onto the white sand, and black smoke billowed from the tilting roof. Oguna crawled out from beneath it. He stood up, and she saw that not a single spark had charred his white robes. In his right hand he held a naked blade, glowing red in the light of the fire. He walked straight toward her but blindly, like a sleepwalker. Even the rain could not touch his hair and instead bounced and fizzled around his head.
“Ousu, you …” Princess Momoso reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders. An electric shock coursed through her and was gone. Oguna came to his senses and looked straight into her face.
“Mother,” he said.
“You did it. You not only seized the Sword but you wielded it. The emperors of the past and even my brother failed to do this. No one has been able to wield the Sword for centuries. Ah, how noble …” She choked with emotion. Ignoring the pelting rain, she knelt before him and embraced him, pressing her cheek against his belt. “You have proven yourself. There is no one closer to the gods than you. My son, my son in whom the blood of the Light runs purest, you far surpass all the royal princes.”
Oguna looked up at the sky. The rain now fell on his face and dripped from his hair. He looked down at his mother, at her face drenched with rain and glowing with joy.
Perhaps I should never have been born.
chapter
four
WAR
DAMAGE
War Damage
Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince Page 15