Chapter XXXIX—Dreams of Murder

Rōkura breathed in and out, her lungs burning like they were on fire. With every breath she took, the sound of an enclosed metallic space echoed back up into her ears.

Her muscles ached.

A crowd of people cheered and screamed—there were drums, loud and thunderous and trumpets and stringed lutes.

There was a narrow space she could see through, a helmet visor and in her hand, a katana sword. Before her stood  a man in black plate adorned with silver filigree, his horns protruding through his helmet and one of them missing.

She glanced about, feeling tired and dizzy, saw the horn on the floor, along with the blood on the tatami mats. The mats stretched out for dozens of paces upon the raised platform where they were at while bright lights above her and this fighter before her shone down upon them.

The crowds screamed from below, their seats climbing high—far above where she stood.

The oni warrior before her was far larger, male—clearly judging from his size, and something leaked down her leg, hot and sticky.

She glanced down and sucked in a short gasp of air.

Blood.

My blood?!

That’s right!

Oddly her actions were both her own, and yet not her own, like she was simply an observer sitting within her own body, and yet every forced action she took, she knew were the actions she would absolutely have taken had she been in this moment right now.

Turning on her heel, a dizziness took her, and her vision started closing in. She pushed up her visor and the bright lights shot into her helmet and eyes, forcing her to squint.

The exits—there were many, hemmed by red-pillared torii gates.

There was a man among them, in fact, multiple men on both sides of the square platform. Rōkura realized someone was calling to her.

“Rōkura!”

She turned, found Norihito calling to her. He wore waraji sandals and simple robes sashed with nothing more than a rope, his bald pate shiny and his mustachios swaying with his jerky movements.

Snappish and loud, he asked her what she was doing. “Nani shiteru no desuka!” Then continuing in the same language which she understood perfectly, he ordered that she fight him.

The man lumbered forward, his footsteps sending ripples underneath the tatami mats. His sword flashed and her heart thundered inside her chest, her ears thumping with every beat of her blood.

The pain in her left side where there was a small gap in her armor, flared. She had already been struck.

As he came forward with his sword, he struck at her with an overhanded attack, but she dodged the attack, whirled in a pirouette, but was forced back onto her haunches when he lifted his elbow.

“PUT YOUR HELMET DOWN, YOU FOOL!”

The only people who could insult Princess Rōkura Yōzei that way were her sister, her parents, and her sword structure.

“MOVE!” Norihito screamed.

She glanced back at him, his arms shaking in rigid fury as his eyes blazed and his mustachios whipped about his face.

Rōkura heard a grunt.

Before even looking, she rolled and the Noruhosai sword slammed down beside her. Rōkura whirled back to her feet, lunged in for the attack. Her sword flashed and metal-on-metal skirled loudly between them as sparks flew in all directions.

The dark eyes inside her enemy’s visor sending chills up her spine, the teeth ghostly and skeletal etched into his mask.

Suddenly a white flash blew past her and her surroundings flickered. Rōkura was standing, her arm raised by a newcomer as her house flag was raised for all to see. The cheers were deafening.

Flicker.

Rōkura stood watching from an upper balcony in the throne chamber, her mother’s hand draped over her shoulder. Her heart shuttered in her chest.

Feelings of…

Jealousy pervaded her emotions as she looked down upon the castle entrance. It was her sister, bedecked for battle, her swords strapped in her sash as her honor guard flanked her.

Anger assailed Rōkura as she watched her bid a final farewell to her father. They embraced, and when they finally pulled apart, Sujin smiled at Asana and took her by the shoulders.

“Make our house proud, and show our enemies the meaning of fear, Daughter.”

She bowed, then with an arrogant smile, she said, “I will, Father.”

She turned and her honor guard parted for her, the man sticking close to her side none other than Riojiusuki, her second-in-command and leader of the Pale Dragons—a legendary troupe of warriors of Anjō Ōkoku.

With their parting done, Sujin glanced up at them, graveness in his face, determination there as well, as he intended to join the war soon after Asana struck out and conquered the northern kingdoms.

There was to be a great reckoning in the lands.

In frustration, Rōkura snarled, jerked away from her mother’s clinging embrace and strode down—

Flicker.

A cool summer wind blew past Rōkura as her thin skirts rustled in the breeze. They lay upon a floral-patterned quilt of silk and threat of gold. The warmth of Sahiren’s body underneath her making her too warm for comfort, and yet she didn’t care.

Rōkura’s heart soared with affection and love for the prince of Ashu. They were to be married. And though normally she might think of little else on this hot summer day, her thoughts dwelled with Asana and her father’s war.

Swallowing, she tilted her head back over the side of his shoulder and glanced into Sahiren’s dark eyes. He smiled and her heart beat a little faster as he leaned down and kissed her on the lips, his curved horns long and immaculately cared for.

Perhaps a little too well-cared for.

Rōkura liked an oni man’s horns to be somewhat warn.

In the distance the castle upon the hills could be seen next to the lake. They were upon a hill and the winds blew about the water on the lake, sending ripples across the water. A flock of large white birds squawked and flew away as a group.

A horse rider galloped on the road, followed by several others. They looked like soldiers, as one of them carried a standard, though Rōkura wasn’t familiar with which.

She sighed, both contented, and jealous of his sister. What was she doing now? What battles was she fighting?

Why can’t our parents see my worth?

The moment flashed away.

Flicker.

“Father,” Rōkura said. “Allow me to apply to become one of the Pale Dragons.”

He shut his buck, the sound of which seemed to silence all sounds in the room. The fir crackled as he looked at her from the sofa. The study was quiet and warm and rain pattered against the tall windows as thunder rumbled over the skies.

“Why do you wish to be a Pale Dragon?”

“I… I want to be useful to the family.”

He smiled, stood up. “And you are, my dear child. He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked her glossy black hair. She couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at her. “You are much to be spending your time on some battlefield as one of your sister’s protectors. Leave that to the soldiers.”

“But father!”

He raised a finger, and that shushed her, though it didn’t stop Rōkura from feeling a flash of frustration.

“How many legendary fighters have you defeated in the tournaments?”

She paused, said nothing.

“Dozens?”

“Scores!” she shot back.

He smiled. “You have an ego, my dear.”

“I said nothing that wasn’t true.”

Turning to the fire, he flanked back over his shoulder. “No, you have not. And you should feel that pride—pride you’ve brought and continue to bring to house Anjō. He turned back toward her. Rōkura, we need far more than warriors and great leaders that send our armies into battle.

“Asana is in danger. Why have you not taken the field?”

“Because,” he said smiling, “now is not the time.”

She knew, but she wanted him to say.

“No,” he said. “You will remain where you are, Princess. You will continue to fight your duels and to spread your fame among our allies, and infamy among our enemies.”

“Tch!”

“I suspect requests for marriage from the other powerful houses soon.”

“I do not want to marry into those houses,” she said, her heart lurching. “I am in love with—“

“With our ward prince Sahiren.” He waved it away. “Keeping him here is not worth so much that I would allow you two to be wed.”

She gasped, taking a step back. She came into his study to persuade him to let her join the Pale Dragons. This was not the plan. “Father!”

“Enough, Rōkura.”

“You wish to control my fate, like a pawn in your games. While my sister is off winning glory for our house, you sit back and play games, only joining the field to backstab our enemies at the most opportune time while you allow the world to believe my sister is a rampaging child out for personal glory! You—“

“I said that is enough!” Sujin snapped.

Flicker.

The autumn had come and the days were clouded and cold. Rōkura paced her apartments, deciding whether to leave with Sahiren or stay. They had already spoken about it—had argued about it.

They both knew they could not be together.

Her father and mother had plans for Rōkura.

“My lady.”

She turned, found one of the maids, a human girl. She curtseyed. “My lady, your mother requests your presence in the main drawing room.”

Rōkura barely even looked at her. “I do not wish to go to the drawing room.”

“But my lady, your mother—“

Rōkura turned and in a flash of anger she struck out with her nails at the stupid maid. The girl cried out and whirled into the floor.

She squirmed and cried, touched her face and drew back her hand. It was covered with blood. She looked from that blood to Rōkura and screamed as if she were some kind of monster.

“Get out!” she snapped.

The maid fled from her chambers.

Rōkura sighed heavily, glanced down at her hand.

“You should not have done that.”

She gasped, glancing up at the door. “Kamino. You scared me.”

He came into her chambers, which were quite expansive, though right now, they were cold and somewhat darkened from the lack of light in the skies. Her braziers weren’t lit and there was a pallid, uninviting quality to the rooms.

“You know I’m quiet.”

He was youthful, very youthful, since Rōkura was his senior. Somehow the dowager queen had given birth to another male heir, leaving the kingdom with a very young duke.

She smiled.

“I haven’t seen much of you,” he said.

She led him to the windows and glanced out across the grounds. Guards patrolled on the parapets and in the towers. The rolling and expansive countryside full of lakes and rivers was normally a beautiful sight in the autumn months.

Kamino stepped up beside her, his armor plats making subtle metallic noises. He reached up and put his hand upon the hilt of his curved sword.

Rōkura glanced down at his blade. A magnificent weapon. “Don’t you want to use that sword?”

He glanced down at it. “It’s not fitting for a duke to fight such an unseemly war as Asana.”

“That’s just what father wants the northern houses to believe.”

“Indeed,” said Kamino as he glanced at her. “So I can’t join the army—not just like he can’t.”

There was a long moment of silence between them. “Did my mother send you?”

“Rōkura… you wound me.”

Kamino’s horns were shorter than hers. With an oni’s age, the horns became longer, but there was always a terminal growth point. Rōkura’s were near that length.

“I only wish to protect my sister.”

“You will get your chance,” he said. “I promise you. You are young.”

She laughed, but there was some bitterness there. “Being told by you that I am young is very paradoxical, Uncle Kamino.” She had always felt and treated Kamino like a little brother, and sometimes she forgot that he was indeed Sujin’s very-younger brother.

“She did not send me.”

Rōkura sighed. “Who will protect us once father is gone?”

“You want to fight, yes? Then you will.”

“Hmph.”

He looked at her, his demeanor sobering. Suddenly he drew his sword and grasped it by the upper blade and cross guard, and holding it up to her, he said, “I swear on our house, and on my sword, that I will be here to protect you and the queen.”

“What if you are called off to battle?” she suggested.

“I will refuse. I solemnly swear, upon all the gods.”

“Truly?”

He nodded. “I Kamino Yōzei swear it, Princess.”

She couldn’t help but smile as a tear game to her eyes. Rōkura wiped her cheek and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you will keep your promise.”

Of course, there was no need for Kamino to guard the royal palace. His promise was for her—for Rōkura alone.

Flicker.

While Shinjiro waited with his back to Rōkura’s door, Kazuno seated herself in the gardens where the play was to take part. She was hoping to see Rōkura again. After Kezia had returned with word that the sacrifice was alive and well, and that she had attacked herself and Chinatsu, Kazuno didn’t at first believe her.

Only after Lucian suggested the possibility of such a thing being true, did Kazuno decide to be thorough. They had all been there during the sacrificing ceremony in Momori Kazō.

Were the others aware of Princess Rōkura Yōzei’s living state? How could this be? Resurrected? Isekaied back to this world where they had taken her to be sacrificed?

Kazuno needed to speak with Lord Ash.

Swallowing, she glanced over at the hastily constructed stage where the actors were preparing themselves. The seats were being filled and Kazuno caught Lady Victoire glancing at her curiously.

At least now, Kazuno and her Soulless Night companions could scout out the enemy with little to no consequences. No one would make a move.

Not here.

Not now with all these guests.

Far too public.

Smiling, Lady Victoire wondered when the pretty oni girl would come out again. Her glowing eyes were absolutely marvelous. Perhaps she could buy the girl off of Hans. Oh—I do love surrounding myself with the prettiest things.

But would Lord Ashe’s friend allow it? He and her had somewhat of a rivalry, she thought. Or did they?

Hans was pulled aside by Sir Withersbee and told what had happened to Rōkura. “What?” Hans spat. “You gave her a sleeping tonic?” he glanced about surreptitiously. “What if something should happen?”

Adrian sighed. He hadn’t liked it, but at the time, he thought it best, and he always followed his instincts. “Not to worry,” he said. “The samurai is at her door with special smelling salts. He can wake her in a moment’s time.”

Hans breathed a sigh of relief. “Very well.” He nodded. “Let’s find Lord Asher. I want to keep an eye on our ‘guests’ so they don’t try anything.”

“I agree with you completely.”

Kezia wasn’t one for loud spaces and showiness. Not like Lady Kazuno. Though Lucian going with her to watch the play was a surprise.

 No, Kezia pattered about the darkened parts of the mansion on light feet, the sounds of the guests talking, laughing and enjoying the music, a distance thing. Kezia glanced about, looking at the ornaments, the pictures on the walls.

The mansion was a wonder.

Images, something between memories and dreams, flashed and flickered into the oni’s consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered furiously, while all the while she experienced them in her sleeping state.

Neither Shinjiro, Hans or the others knew that she was remembering precious moments of her life—and that she was experiencing nightmares.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Rōkura’s eyes suddenly shot open. She gasped, clawing at her hurting heart as tears burst from her eyes.

The emotional heartache was more than she could bare in that moment.

She screamed, a noise between a desperate sob and a wale of grief as her breathing hitched in her chest.