Dragon Sword and Wind Child
SORAIRO MAGATAMA
Copyright © 1988, 1996, 2005 by Noriko OGIWARA
Original edition published in Japan in 1996 under the title “SORAIRO
MAGATAMA” by Tokuma Shoten Publishing Co., Ltd.
Published in arrangement with Tokuma Shoten Publishing Co., Ltd.
through Japan Uni Agency, Inc.
Illustrations copyright © 2005 by Miho Satake
Cover design by Yukiko Whitley
All rights reserved.
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
ISBN 978-1-4215-4056-6
Haikasoru eBook edition, November 2010
Dragon Sword
and Wind Child
Like the swift flowing waters
Parted by a rock in midstream,
We shall be reunited.
â The retired emperor Sutoku
I
N HER DREAM
, Saya was always six years old. Long fingers of flame rose up against the darkness, lighting the sky above. Fire blazed spiteful and triumphant above what she had once thought most secureâher home, that safe, warm refuge that she was so sure would always be there. The glowing hearth; the single room in which her family lived permeated with the smells of cooking and familiar people; her own wooden bowl; her mother's soft, plump lap covered in rough-woven clothâall were consumed by the flames. The child Saya had somehow managed to find her way to the marsh at the edge of the village, but with no one there to lead her by the hand, she could go no farther. Crouched in a clump of dying reeds, she trembled with terror, choking down the hard lump of fear in her throat, unable even to cry.
The oppressive air of the swamp overwhelmed her with its thick, cloying stench of mud and decay. Water from the sodden ground had begun to well up between her toes, and her bottom was soaked. She was miserably uncomfortable, yet she could not move, for on the other side of the swamp, demons prowled in search of her. Peering through the reeds, she could just make out their shapes by the faint bluish light of their torches. There were five of them, widely disparate in size. Although she remained undetected, at any moment one of them might push aside the reeds, calling out, “I've found her!” The thought filled her with such despair that she almost wished they would find her then and there, just to end the agony of the suspense. They seemed to stay forever, peering back and forth, while the blue light from their torches skated across the inky black waters like a lonely water insect.
The scene changed abruptly. Saya was inside a large building. Great, evenly spaced columns of cypress supported the stately roof, and a polished wood-floored corridor led off into the distance. Torches in iron brackets blazed comfortingly, dispelling the darkness. Somehow she had managed to slip through the demons' grasp and escape into a large shrine, yet one eerily devoid of any sign of life. She gazed up at the ceiling, then down at her bare feet. Gathering her courage, she began to move deeper into the sanctuary, gazing fixedly ahead.
The only sounds that accompanied her as she walked past the innumerable columns were the echoes of her own footsteps and the hiss of the torches. The only sign of movement was her own shadow, which leapt ahead as she passed each torch. She came at last to the end of the corridor and saw a room from which shone a brilliant light. A solitary figure clothed in the white robes of a shrine maiden knelt before a wooden altar adorned with offerings of a wand decorated with dazzling white paper streamers and a forest of dark green sakaki branches. Although Saya could not see her face, she knew the maiden must be beautiful. The white skirts of her robes spread out around her, and her slender form seemed to be bathed in light. Her long, glossy black hair gleamed on her head and shoulders, cascading to the floor like a waterfall.
But there was something wrong. Uneasy, Saya hesitated and glanced back the way she had come. Catching sight of her own shadow stretching behind her, she knew what was wrong. The shrine maiden had no shadow.
Saya was caught like a snared rabbit. Fleeing the fox, she had plunged straight into a trap. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came forth. Fear washed through her.
Don't turn around! Please!
she pleaded silently.
She must not look at her face. If she did, something terrible would happen and she would be powerless to stop it. She must not look. Yet she could neither shut nor avert her eyes.
Please, don't turn around! The demons will eat me!
The maiden, who had remained as immobile as a statue, began to turn slowly toward the desperate Saya. Her hair swayed gently about her face. Saya glimpsed her pale cheeks and then her eyes, as her cool gaze fell upon her.
The demons will eat me!
SAYA WOKE WITH A START
, bathed in sweat, and felt fresh air caressing her face. She must have had the covers pulled over her head. It was dark and a few stars could still be seen in the sky framed by the small west window. Her mother, who lay beside her, turned in her sleep and asked drowsily if she was all right. Her father continued to snore peacefully.
“I'm fine,” Saya whispered. “I was just dreaming.” Relieved that she had not cried out in her sleep, she drew the covers around her and rested her cheek once more on her pillow.
“Same old dream?”
“No,” she answered hastily. When she was younger, Saya had often woken with a scream to find herself crying hysterically. Just the other day she had reassured her mother that she had outgrown that nightmare, but she had lied. In fact, the older she grew, the more vivid and detailed the dream became, exercising an increasingly relentless hold over her.
This was Saya's only trouble in an otherwise peaceful life. It was a constant reminder that she was not a native of Hashiba, that the elderly couple she lived with were not her real parents, despite the fact that she did not remember any other home, let alone one beside a marsh, and had long forgotten the faces of her real mother and father. Irritably brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, she bit her lip and fiercely told herself not to cry. It was anger that made her want to cry: anger at herself for continuing to have the same nightmare.
I turned fifteen this year. I've lived most of my life in this village. I
can't even remember any other home,
she thought impatiently.
Who
is that foolish girl still wandering about in that swamp? Well, it isn't
me! It certainly isn't me. I escaped all by myself and found another
father and mother.
In fact, she had no memory of her escape. She had learned much later that some villagers had chanced upon her, wandering in the mountains, almost dead from starvation. It was as if a great and merciful hand had wiped away all memory of her suffering while she lay stricken with a high fever. Although she knew that she must have been fleeing from the war in the east, the thought meant very little to her. The indigenous people in the east refused to worship the God of Light and continued to resist the army led by his immortal children, Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro. But this did not matter much to her either. Three generations ago, the head chieftain of Hashiba had accepted the dominion of the God of Light. A shrine had been built in the forest and in it was placed a burnished copper mirror as an emblem of the god. Since that time, the area had been blessed with peace and plenty, and its people were content.
Surely the demons can't enter a place like this that's protected by the
sacred mirror. Why doesn't that girl come here?
thought Saya.
The terror that the demons in her dream had evoked was vividly revived and she shivered under her covers, thankful that she was now awake. This was the real Saya: the girl who slept in this bed, in this house, in the land of Hashiba. It was here that she would reach womanhood, marry, and care for her parents. She was already fifteen. It would not be long now.
Deep down, however, Saya knew that as long as the girl in her dream continued to flee from the demons, she would also continue to flee. But what could she do? Would it be better to let the demons destroy her? And what did it mean anyway? She could find no answers to these questions.
THE MORNING MIST
rising from the river cleared to reveal blue sky. Sunbeams played upon ripples of water, creating shimmering patterns of silver and gold. The sun's rays warmed the stones in the riverbed, glancing off quartz crystals with sudden and dazzling brilliance. The village women, gathering at the river to wash clothes, exchanged greetings and remarked on the warm weather. Although they still wore their winter clothing of indigo and ocher, the cliff top on the opposite bank was already robed in the fresh green of budding leaves and the vivid red of wild azaleas. Summer was fast approaching and soon it would be the Day of Changing, when winter garments were put away in favor of summer clothes of white linen.
“Morning.” Climbing down the bank to the water's edge, Saya found most of her friends already there.
“Morning, Saya. What's the matter? Don't keep your sorrows to yourself.”
Saya blinked in surprise. In the dazzling light reflected from the water, the village girls seemed like sprightly young minnows darting after bait with which to fuel their banter.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Come on now. You know you can't hide anything from us. You were walking like a dreamer. Out with it! Tell us the name of the man who's troubling you.”
Saya was at a loss for words, in itself enough to make all her friends laugh. “You've got it all wrong. It was just a bad dream,” she protested.
“A dream? Here, let me exorcise you.
Togano no shika mo yume no
mani mani.
Don't think about it anymore. Thinking about bad things can make them happen, you know.”
“What did you dream? I'll tell you what it means.”
“Oh no you won't!” Saya hastily emptied her basket and began rinsing the clothes in the water. The dream was something she could not share, even with her friends.
“Saya keeps her own counsel,” remarked the girl who lived next door. “She's the only one who hasn't told us who she wants as her partner at the Kagai.”