Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince

by Noriko Ogiwara

  Ever since Princess Momoso had appeared in her dream, Toko had been plagued by a terrifying thought. Was she responsible for shortening Oguna’s life? After all, he had placed himself in grave danger for her sake so that he could divorce himself from the Sword. Though she loved him and desperately wanted Oguna to live, perhaps she was actually fated to destroy him against her will, thereby fulfilling the mission of the Tachibana. If so, then what should I do? Would it be better to let his mother have my body to protect Oguna? But I don’t want to. I can’t.

  While one battle raged around her, another raged within—and the odds were not in her favor. Unable to spare any emotion for the external world, she buried herself in her chores. It was a shout announcing retreat that finally jolted her back to reality.

  “Did we lose?” she asked the commander of the supply troop.

  “We can’t lose,” he responded with a grim expression. “Our orders are to withdraw temporarily.”

  They were located several days’ march inland where the flat plain that had seemed to stretch on forever finally gave way to rolling hills. Choosing one of these hills as their rallying point, they moved their camp to elevated ground. The retreat was more like a rout, and the soldiers from the battlefront arrived in considerable disarray. Toko’s eyes widened when she saw their wretched state. How could they have suffered so much damage in just a single day of fighting? Not one among them had remained unscathed. And far fewer had returned than had set out that morning.

  Where’s Oguna? And Sugaru? Toko thought. Sugaru has the Misumaru, she reminded herself, trying to remain calm. If anything had happened to Oguna, he would have come and told her. Surely even the easygoing Sugaru would do that much. But in her fear, she found herself doubting him nonetheless. He might have become so involved in the fray that he had forgotten to keep her informed.

  At that moment, Sugaru appeared in front of her. “Sorry,” he said. “I was too busy fighting. I didn’t have a chance to come back.”

  Toko clenched her fists. “Sugaru!”

  “Oguna’s still there,” Sugaru said in a rush. “He cut off the attackers to allow the soldiers to retreat to the last man. That’s why I was so busy.”

  Toko decided there was no point in being angry. “So Oguna didn’t use his power then?” she said.

  “Didn’t you see the light?” Sugaru asked with a frown.

  “No,” Toko said, shocked. “The hills cut off any view.”

  “I don’t think it was Oguna, but the power of the Sword was definitely invoked at some point. I don’t understand what’s going on. Nothing about this battle makes any sense. But there’s no time to talk. I came because Oguna’s wounded and won’t let us treat him. Can you come?”

  For a moment, Toko could not breathe. “Yes,” she gasped. “Please take me to him.”

  As they flew, Sugaru gave her some details. “It was a terrible battle. Takehiko’s unit was decimated and the main force completely scattered. Some of them will probably never make it back. Oguna’s trying to rally them and bring them back safely, but he’s been wounded fairly badly.”

  When they reached the site, Toko felt she was walking into a nightmare. The men had felled some trees to form a barricade far too simple to call a rampart. Those too wounded to stand had been carried to this makeshift shelter while the clamor of battle echoed nearby.

  Just like Mino. But there was no time for Toko to dwell on the situation. Urged on by Sugaru, she walked into a grove of trees behind the barricade and found Oguna lying in a tent with two attendants. One supported his head. Oguna’s face was deathly pale, and it seemed to take all his strength just to remain conscious. He was still clad in armor, but the burnished surface was now soiled with blood and dirt and the shirt beneath was stained dark with blood.

  “Here. I’ve brought Toko,” Sugaru said.

  Oguna turned toward Sugaru with an accusing look, but when he saw Toko, all his strength seemed to drain away.

  “You take care of that wound now and leave the battle to us,” Sugaru continued. “Don’t worry. I’m here. I won’t let them get any closer.”

  “But this is my fault. I have to take responsibility.”

  “Tell me that when you’re well enough to stand.”

  Oguna cast Toko a pleading look. “I’m not the only one who’s injured.”

  “As far as I can see,” Toko said bluntly, “of those who aren’t already dead, you’re the most badly wounded. Stop stalling. Let’s get that armor off.”

  It took Toko and Oguna’s two attendants to remove his armguards and breastplate. Oguna cried out, unable to bear the pain. Although Toko had prepared herself for the worst, even so, the sight of his injury made her gasp. “It’s awful …”

  It was his right arm that was injured. Rather than a gash from a blade, a hideous burn spread as far as his shoulder, as if fire had raced along the inside of his gauntlet. “How did you get such a wound?”

  “It’s our fault,” one of his men said, his face anguished. “Even though we were with him, we failed to protect him.”

  “What happened?” Toko asked him. She could not ask Oguna, for it was all he could do to fight the pain.

  “He crossed swords with the enemy commander … When we saw their army, we couldn’t believe our eyes. We couldn’t understand it. We came here to stamp out the Emishi, who ravage the land. But the Emishi army looked just like us. They wore the same armor, used the same formation so that we could not tell ourselves apart from them. Even the commander who led them looked exactly like the prince.”

  “What?”

  “I know it seems impossible, but it’s the truth. Their armor, their helmets, everything about them was the same. It was like looking into a mirror. Of course, we were furious. The prince as well. We launched straight into battle. The prince joined Takehiko’s unit, made up of the best warriors, and they scattered the enemy until they came face to face with their commander. But when he and the prince crossed swords, a bolt of lightning struck.”

  “The Sword …” Toko whispered, shocked. She looked down at Oguna’s wound.

  “It served the enemy, not the prince. We were dumbstruck. You can’t begin to imagine what we felt. At that moment, it seemed to be us, not them, who were merely a reflection on the water.”

  “That’s impossible!” Toko was practically shouting. “I don’t understand.”

  At that moment, Oguna spoke, his voice as quiet as a breath. “I do … I was able to sever myself from the Sword, but not to seal its power within me.”

  Toko squeezed his sound hand. “So you didn’t use it? Just like you promised.”

  Oguna seemed to nod with his eyes, but his face twisted in agony. “I know him …” he said, but she learned no more for with that he fainted.

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, Sugaru kept the enemy troops from coming any closer, and though it took him a day and a night, in the end the attackers retreated. While this gave Oguna’s troops breathing space, it did not disperse the dark cloud that hung over them. Oguna was tormented by a high fever and his condition worsened. It was clear to everyone that the situation was grave.

  Sugaru called Toko aside and, after some hesitation, finally shared what was on his mind. “I’ve seen that kind of wound before. In Izumo. If we want to save his life, it would be better to amputate his arm as soon as possible. Once it festers, the poison will spread through his system and he’ll never have another chance.”

  Toko was exhausted. She had not slept at all, and she found that she could not stop the tears flowing down her face. “Cut it off? It’s his arm, Sugaru. His right arm.”

  “He may lose an arm, but at least he’ll live. Although I suppose that some people would rather die.” Sugaru was being strangely fair. “He’ll have to decide which is better.”

  “Oguna’s delirious,” Toko sobbed. “He can’t make that kind of decision.”

  “Then you do it, Toko. You decide for him.”

  Toko wept, and as she wept she remembered that Princess Momo
so had also told her to choose—between herself and Oguna, one or the other. But as Toko had no intention of relinquishing her place to that woman, she had in effect chosen herself. And was this the result? Was it my selfishness that caused Oguna to suffer like this?

  Suddenly, she felt angry. It was so unreasonable. It’s not fair to force a choice on someone like that. She’s the one in the wrong. I will not accept either choice. I don’t want to lose …

  Perhaps she did not want to lose to fate. She did not want to lose to anything that tried to wrest Oguna from her grasp. She would not accept that on any terms. She stopped crying and looked at Sugaru.

  “What?” he asked, looking startled. Her eyes burned with a strange intensity.

  “Sugaru, do you think I can wield the Misumaru once more?” Even her voice sounded strange.

  “What are you planning to do?” Sugaru asked cautiously.

  “I don’t know … but I think it’s possible. I beg of you, by that white stone, Shiro, to let me bear the Misumaru one more time.”

  Toko held out her hand, suddenly firm and sure, like a shrine maiden possessed. Compelled by something in her voice, Sugaru undid the string around his neck. He did not know where the force inside her came from, but when he handed her the Misumaru, he was not surprised to see that it continued to glow.

  Toko felt herself reunited with the power of the Goddess who loved this land. The wild, unruly force of the earth and its tranquility; the clear, rising power of purification and the stagnating power of decay; the power of creation and of elimination—all these she felt, and within them she found what she had known intuitively must be a part of the power of the beads. The power to heal—to cure those who lived and to release those who were dying. The path of that force was very narrow. Only with the fifth stone would the collection of magatama be free to transcend the Misumaru of Death. But despite only being the thinnest of threads, it was still there.

  She fastened the Misumaru around her neck and returned to Oguna’s side. The Misumaru filled the dimness inside the tent with multi-colored light and shone upon Oguna’s face where he lay unconscious.

  If Oguna wishes to live, if he has the will to do so, the power of the Misumaru should work… . If he wishes to return to me … Goddess of Darkness, please, help me … Filling her thoughts with this prayer, Toko gently placed her hand on the cloth that covered Oguna’s wound.

  She felt the power expand inside her, and although she strove to remain aware, she lost track of how long she stayed like that. It seemed like forever and, at the same time, like a mere instant, but only because her consciousness faded when her strength was spent. It was not until she woke the next morning that she learned what had happened. It was the noise of Sugaru rushing loudly into the tent that woke her.

  “Toko!” he cried. “What have you done?” He looked surprised to see Toko just sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You mean you don’t know? Every soldier who was wounded, down to the very last man, has recovered. And so completely you would never have known they were injured. Was it the Misumaru?”

  Coming to her senses, Toko hastily removed the cloth from Oguna’s arm. His wound was healed. There was some scarring, but the limb no longer held any fever and the skin had regained its healthy tone.

  “I can move it. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Oguna said. “You fixed it for me, didn’t you, Toko? I could feel your power flowing into me. That’s a noble force you wield.”

  “Well, I could never have managed a stunt like that,” Sugaru said. “It never even occurred to me that the Misumaru could be used that way.”

  “Me neither,” Toko said. Gingerly, she reached out and touched Oguna’s wounded arm. “This scar will remain.” She seemed sincerely disappointed.

  “Who cares?” Oguna laughed.

  “But I wanted to cure you so that there would be no trace left at all.” It made her sad to think that his perfect form would be marred in any way. Though she did not think about it often, she was aware that he had the unclouded splendor and grace that belonged to those descended from the God of Light.

  “Nothing can ever go back to what it was before. A wound is a wound. You can’t erase that fact,” Oguna said without a trace of regret. “I have many scars. Every time I was wounded and healed, I could feel myself change. I have one here, too …”

  Seeing him place his hand against his midriff, Toko was unable to speak. Oguna looked at her earnestly. “I can never erase the fact that I was burned by the Sword, even if no scar remains. I have bidden farewell to that power. I did so from the bottom of my heart. The creature told me that if I parted with it, it would align itself with those forces that want to destroy me. And it did so.” Toko nodded. Oguna sighed slightly. “Without you, Toko, I would have died. The Sword is still stronger than I. It has left me, but now it is beginning to move of its own accord. The result may be much worse than we could imagine.”

  “Even so, you have taken the first step. You have made the decision to live,” Toko said earnestly. “And it was your own choice. So don’t you dare regret it.”

  “Mmm,” Oguna nodded, but he did not sound totally convinced.

  WHEN OGUNA finally returned to the camp, his men greeted him with great relief. His first task, however, was to bury the dead. Even Oguna, who had been confronted with death all along, had never lost so many comrades in a single battle. Among the missing was his loyal captain, Takehiko. It would have been too much to expect Oguna to be cheerful.

  “I didn’t bring my men here to die so far from home,” he confided to Toko. She was the only one to whom he showed his utter discouragement. “In the past, many men deserted my army because they recognized that they had nothing to gain by serving under me. Those who have followed me this far are truly loyal. They chose me as their leader to the bitter end. But I failed to fulfill that trust. I brought them to the remotest part of the country to die. They probably wished they had never come with me.”

  Toko was beginning to realize that being a leader was not easy for Oguna. He bore responsibility for every life entrusted to him, a weight that at times threatened to crush him. Though Toko did not want Oguna to suffer any more grief, she could not change what had happened. Oguna had chosen to live and had parted with the Sword for that purpose. As a result, he had lost his invincible power and with it, many of his men. As their commander, he could not help but feel remorse.

  It’s his mother’s doing. She intends to make him suffer, to shake his resolve so that he’s forced to return to the way things were before. Toko could not stand it. If Oguna had been selfish and egotistical, he might have been safe. But he had far too much integrity even toward those who served under him, and this put his life at risk.

  Later, Sugaru said, “You’ve got to do more to comfort him, Toko. He looks like he’s in the depths of despair despite the fact that you cured him.”

  “He can’t be happy just for himself,” Toko answered. “He’s not that type of person, and nothing I could say will change that.” Although Oguna had not hidden himself away like he had as a child, his mien was at the moment very similar. His despair affected his men, who were also beginning to lose hope. Some, realizing that the Sword had turned its back on Oguna, even left ranks and disappeared into the countryside.

  “If he’s not going to get over this now, then when will he? We don’t have much time left,” Sugaru said.

  Toko was fully aware that time was pressing. “I want that fifth magatama,” she said abruptly. “I think it’s our only hope for eliminating the power that makes him suffer. Without a power stronger than the Misumaru of Death, we can’t confront it. Lady Toyoao told me that five stones would give the Misumaru the power of rebirth. If we’re to tear Oguna from that phantom’s grasp, we need something as strong as that. You told me you couldn’t find it, but it must be somewhere.”

  “You go look,” Sugaru urged her. She still wore the Misumaru around her neck, and Sugaru had n
ot asked her to return it. He had relinquished the role of bearer to her. “I don’t know what happened to the last one, Aka, but you just might be able to find it. Your yearning for it is much stronger than mine.” He added brightly, “Go find it and win this woman’s war over Oguna.”

  Toko glared at him, but Sugaru ignored her. She had to acknowledge that what he said was true. She had indeed resolved to confront Oguna’s mother in a gamble for his life.

  4

  TOKO had no sooner decided to search for the fifth magatama than three armor-clad messengers rode up to their camp. They made no move to dismount. Instead one of them announced in a loud voice, “We, the army of Mahoroba, led by the prince who bears the Sword as proof of his descent from the God of Light, have justly punished you, the followers of an impostor who falsely calls himself ‘prince.’ You have been rendered defenseless, incapable of resistance. Yet our prince, in his mercy, has refrained from slaying the remnants of your army and has sent us instead to parley. Have your leader come forth.”

  Enraged at the enemy’s claim to be the legitimate army, Oguna’s men swung their spears to the ready and fitted arrows to their bows, their faces white with fury. Oguna, however, raised his hand. “Wait,” he said. “There’s no need to be hasty.”

  The messenger continued. “We have captured many of your comrades. Among them is your captain, Takehiko. If you kill us, the prisoners will all die. Is that your wish?”

  “Let’s talk,” Oguna said. He stepped forward and walked through the entrance of the stockade to approach the enemy soldiers. He wore only a leather breast guard over his clothes and appeared very young. Yet there was something in his manner that unnerved the messengers, despite the fact that they had the upper hand.

  “You …”

  “I am Ousu, crown prince and heir to the imperial throne of Mahoroba,” he said. “Why do you lie?”

  The messengers stared at him intently while he spoke, but when he had finished, their leader responded, “Our commander is the true prince. You are nothing but bandits who exploit the prince’s name for your own selfish ends. Do you still claim legitimacy in the face of your abject defeat by the Sword?”