Toshiko slept fitfully this night. Tossed from one side of the futon to the next, murmured in her home tongue, whined. A cold sweat specked her skin, rewetting dried paint and causing it to run down her face like a mask. Then stillness. She laid like a corpse, barely breathing, heart so weakly thrumming that even a vampire’s hearing would not find it…
Blue eyes snapped open and she turned, bore a wide circle and stared around herself. She stood within the throne room of a grand palace, surrounded by armored samurai and well-dressed courtiers. An elbow jabbed agianst her ribs, her very sore ribs.
“Bayushi-san! Focus. Your brother speaks.”
She stared, confused, at the speaker and then turned and as she did caught her own reflection within a polished urn. She was a young man, dressed nobly and wearing a keenly crafted mask. Fingers rose to it as she turned toward the throne.
Prepared to listen, she found herself again opening her eyes She sat within lavish personal chamber, courtiers attended her. She caught the face of the young woman pouring her tea, drew her close so that she could study her reflection in the girl’s eyes. The same mask… A voice,
“Women, out!”
She started to rise and was pushed down by a hand on the shoulder, a chuckle rising as another man sat down beside her,
“Not you brother.”
The man wore the finery and crest of…an emperor? She froze, fearful that she’d gone mad.
“My brother…I know that you restrained yourself during the tournament. You should be emperor, but instead you allowed me to win. What I cannot know is why.”
The emperor sipped at a sake cup, motioned toward her own so that she would drink,
“It is because of this that I charge your duty to you in private. You can see threats to the empire that the others cannot, that I cannot; conspiracies, cults, plots against the throne. …Do you remember the story of the frog and the scorpion?”
She blinked, or thought she did, ready to explain to the emperor that he had made some grave mistake, but when her eyes opened again she stood atop a mountain. Mist swirled cool against her bare shoulders and made her shiver.
“Toshiko-chan?”
The voice was deep, so deep that she felt her heart shudder within her ribcage. Felt tears pricking at the back of eyelids. Turned, and saw before her the reflection in the waiting girl’s eyes, in the polished urn, made solid. He was an unassuming man, only a bit taller than herself, thin of frame with very long black hair and that same unique mask of red and gold. Hands too light for their size rested on her shoulders. She realized she wore only sarashi and fundoshi and moved to cover herself in shame.
“My lord, forgive me, I did ~”
Fingers touched her mouth and she realized that she stood now in lamellar armor. Black as night, and sparse enough to allow limber movement. Saw the reflection of her own mask in his. He spoke,
“Toshi-chan, do not worry of that. Walk with me.”
The two walked for what felt like days, through scenery that changed seamlessly. Mountains, fields, oceans, palaces, dojos, even other realms. The man spoke at length of her family, what they were, who they were, and most importantly why. Laced their entire history for her in detail so minute that it seemed impossible to remember…but she did. Absorbed the information like a sponge. Each time he paused the two would stare at one another, dark eyes and light meeting like shadow and sunlight. She would nod and he would continue.
He spoke of the source of their power, the methods of its use, the importance that it not be used lightly or shared with outsiders…
Finally, they came to stop in a grand okinawan garden. He sat at the edge of a fountain in its center and brushed back long hair. Unhooked the mask from his ears and revealed his face. It was beautiful, masculine, but something in it reminded her of her own. She dropped to kneel and he removed her mask, replaced it with his own and then press his forehead to hers. She inhaled the smell of almond and lilacs. His voice enveloped her.
“Remember the story of Arakaki Honami. She served the clan loyally for decades before her death. Afterwards, she continued to serve. Such is the power of Sosari loyalty. Such is the power of your blood.”
She felt warm arms embrace her, felt the stir of her own life’s energy whirling within and without.
“Happy birthday Toshi-chan.”
—-
With an echoing heave the girl awoke, shivering on the stone floor. Palms against floor she pressed to her knees and realized she must have thrown herself from the futon. Sat there in stunned silence and wondered what could have brought on such a feverdream.