The Twelve Kingdoms Forum

Soul of Shadow, Vision over the Sea


Prologue

Nakajima Yoko slowly opened her eyes. It was strange, she thought; this time, she knew it was a dream. And unlike before her spiriting away to become the empress of Kei, the water-monkey of her sword was not there.

The featureless sea that she stood on was smooth as glass, glowing the strange, shifting colors she had come to know. One step, then two; a third and a fourth. She walked along, shifting the surface of the waters. Where was that the water-monkey that was responsible for these dreams? She wondered, but could not find an answer.

A stronger ripple flowed across her feet. Startled, she turned, and saw a figure running towards her. Squinting, the figure came gradually out of the shadows and became clear. It was Sugimoto-san! Her face was contorted in a frozen palette of terror. Yoko frowned, and tried to call out, but found her voice unable to speak. Sugimoto-san cried out, and stumbled. Yoko suddenly noticed that Sugimoto-san’s shadow, which had not been there at first, was writhing, as if it were trying to form itself into something. It coalesced into fangs, and claws of immense size.

Yoko’s eyes widened in surprise as Sugimoto-san tried to ward off the wickedly sharp fangs. The shadow claws raised for a final stroke, and, after an eternity, it seemed, swept them down, down to strike the killing blow…


Chapter 1

Yoko woke with a start. She was drenched in sweat, and a sense of foreboding overcame her. Breathing deeply, she knew something was very wrong in Japan, where Sugimoto-san had returned. She slipped out of her bed.

As she raised her eyes, she saw her sword: the Suiguutou. Normally quiescent and peaceful, it glowed a bright blue and threw a light around the room. Yoko picked it up and bared the blade. “Show me.”

At her words, the blade rippled like the surface of a pond. Images began sharpen in the blade.

A boy from her old school was there; he stood in front of a painting, paintbrush in hand. He dabbled his palette, and added careful strokes to his painting. Yoko watched as a scene began to take form. Realization dawned as she began to recognize the scene.

It was Mount Hou, and the tree of ranka of the kirin. The sacred place was where all of the kirin, the heavenly messengers who appointed the emperors, were raised and born. The boy had to be a taika, one who was of the 12 Kingdoms, yet not born in it. Even so, only few could know of that sacred tree and its fruit…

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Setting the blade aside for a moment, Yoko answered, “Come in.”

Keiki strode into the room. “Empress.” He started to go on, but saw the glowing blade and Yoko’s troubled expression. “Empress, what is the matter?”

Yoko motioned him closer. She glanced around; her washing basin, full like normal, was perfect. She dipped the sword into basin, and the waters began to shine. Yoko nodded at Keiki, and he glanced into the waters.

Keiki frowned as he saw the boy. Then his eyebrows rose in interest, as he saw what the boy was painting. “A taika?”

“Yes. Although I am troubled on account of more than just that. Tell me, Keiki: you said that only emperors and kirin could create shoku at will, no?”

“That is correct.”

“Then, I wish you to teach me how. If what I am thinking is correct, I would like to deal with this matter personally.”

“But, empress; your duties-”

“This matter is likely far more important than the day to day matters of Kei. You are the prime minister; you are more than competent enough to manage the kingdom for a few days while I am gone.” Yoko smiled. “As I recall, you handled the kingdom rather well when I disappeared for several months. Now, please, teach me to use the shoku.”

Keiki looked to protest, but stopped. He could no more stop her now than he had a chance of bowing before another. “What do you plan on doing in Hourai?”

Grimness edged into Yoko’s voice. “I intend to save a kirin.”


Interlude:
Sanshi squirmed in the emptiness of Taiki’s soul. The trickle of power had been relatively consistent, but recently, a darkness had begun to infect it. If it continued, both Sanshi and Gouran would be too weak to sustain themselves. Taiki was being poisoned, both from within and without.

Sanshi could do nothing but pray that Taiki would recover soon.


Chapter 2

Sugimoto Yuka, high school student, was worried. Takasato Kaname-san had been her interest for some time now, not because she was attracted to him, but rather because of the strange incidents that followed him everywhere. Recently, she had begun to feel a more oppressive nature around him, and the occurrences of the “accidents” around him had become more frequent. She had her own suspicious of what exactly was causing these, but she had no proof. She suspected that she was dangerously close to meeting one of these “accidents” herself, and had narrowly escaped one before. Fearing for her life, she had distanced herself a little from Takasato-san, but she felt that somehow, that would not save her in the near future.

Yuka knew that there was a world other than the one in which she currently lived in; she had no idea how to travel between them, and did not know of any people (other than Nakajima-san, of course) that had traveled between them. She was sure, though, that Takasato-san was not someone who was normal, and probably was someone like Nakajima-san, a taika.

Her thoughts she kept to herself, as she walked to school. It was best not to dwell too much on matters that were probably way beyond her. The dream that she had some weeks ago had happened just once, and she was hoping that the absence of a reoccurrence was a good sign. No one really like having their own shadow almost beheading them.

Yuka rubbed her neck in painful memory. She walked onto the school campus, and the tide of voices washed over her in a welcoming wall of ignorance.


Chapter 3

Rakshun sat at his window, watching as the sun set beyond the horizon. Yoko was going to Hourai.

“Rakshun, I want you to help Keiki in any way you can. I am going to be absent for a little while; I am going to Hourai.” Yoko had looked distant and troubled. “I also would like you to do some research on Taiki; he is the only kirin who is missing and yet not confirmed dead. I know he is a taika, and I have reason to believe that I have found him. Please pass on this information to Emperor Shoryu; tell him I am going to rectify this problem. And kindly ask him to take care of the refugees from Tai.”

That was what she had asked for, and now, it was contained in the small scroll that Rakshun held in his hand. He sighed; he could no more stop her now than he could have stopped her when he first met her. Yoko was not stupid, and he could only trust her judgement.

The door opened with a squeak. Yoko stood there, wearing her normal, drab clothes; her sword was strapped to her back, and long, bright red hair tied up in a practical ponytail. “Is it ready?” she asked.

Rakshun nodded, and handed her the scroll. As she took it, Rakshun noticed something sticking out in her bag of provisions. The memory of it tickled his mind, and he could not remember what it was. “Yoko, forgive my curiosity, what is that?”

Yoko looked up from the scroll, and noticed what Rakshun was pointed up at. “Ah, that. It was Asano Ikuya-kun’s gun.” A quizzical look floated across Rakshun’s face. Yoko smiled. “I would like to return it to his family. They at least deserve to know his fate.” She glanced back down at the scroll. Finishing it, she rolled it up and stuffed it into her bag. Her smiled had disappeared.

“Thank you, Rakshun. This is most valuable information. I must get going.”

“Alright, but don’t do anything too rash, Yoko.”

“I won’t. Itte kimasu.”

Rakshun watched as Yoko turned and left. Taking a deep breath, he returned to his studies. “Itte rasshai.”


Chapter 4.

Sugimoto settled into her seat. She was used to being avoided by everyone, and so the fact that her classmates had settled as far away as they could did not bother her much. Of course, that was before; on her return to Japan, she had found her place in the social net, and was relating more to people.

The coldness of the class no longer had much to do with who she was. No, the fault right now lay with whom she chose to sit beside: Takasato. As the accidents had gotten more frequent, the “curse” had scared almost everyone away from him. All except Yuka. She alone still had the courage to sit near him.

Except today. And that was because he wasn’t there to sit beside. Yuka furrowed her brow in puzzlement; in spite of his unfriendliness, he was still very punctual. His books were on his desk. It was some time after the first bell, and neither he nor one other student had arrived yet.

The noise in the class filtered through Yuka’s thoughts. Something, somewhere was telling her something was very wrong.

The teacher came in, and wrote on the board: “Self-study period.” Yuka frowned. She stood up, and headed for the door. “Sugimoto-san, where are you headed?”

She spared a glance at the teacher, and replied frostily, “Washroom.” She then walked out of the classroom.

Where could they have gone? Yuka’s mind raced. Her heart was pounding. Something was up. In all the accidents that happened so far… Where had they happened? In rooms, on roads, in alleys…But what was the connection? Her gaze strayed towards the stairs to the roof. The common characteristics… isolated areas! All of the accidents had happened to people who were alone. And where better than the roof during class?

Yuka raced up the stairs. The door to the roof was slightly ajar. Fear settled over her mind, and she glanced outside. There they were! Takasato and her classmate stood there, talking animatedly. Her classmate, Eikichi Kyousuke, was a big guy. He towered over Takasato. He barked a short, derisive laugh. Sugimoto couldn’t hear what they were saying, but a premonition took her: he was going to die.

Takasato turned his back on him and walked towards the stairs. Eikichi looked over his shoulder at him. There was a smirk on his face. He pushed off the roof railing and started to make his way to the stairs too. He had only taken a few steps when he stopped, recoiling in horror; and with good reason: his shadow had taken form, shifting and roiling as if alive.

Frozen in place, Sugimoto could only watch in terror as his shadow warped formed into a monster. The shadow-monster reached for his throat. Screaming, he tried to back away from the thing. Taking one step, he came up against the railing. The monster pounced, and Kyousuke tumbled over the railing.

The scream cut off as he fell to his death.

Yuka stood there, frozen to place. It seemed to be the most cold-blooded murder she could have seen.

Takasato opened the roof door fully, and looked down at Yuka where she had collapsed. “How long have you been watching?” Takasato spoke with a chilling indifference. “He laughed at me. He didn’t want to help me.”

With that, Yuka’s anger overcame her fear and horror. She rose to her feet. “How long do you intend on killing people like this? Look! Don’t you feel anything about him? He’s dead because of you!”

“Feel anything for him? Why should I? He insulted me and spurned me. It was his fault.” He turned away from Yuka. “Do you fear me like the rest of them? Do you hate me so?”

Blood rushing to her face, Yuka clenched her fists. “You… you MONSTER! I wanted to know you, why you were hurting like you were. Now I can see that there is nothing to learn, nothing to understand. You’re just a cold-blooded murderer.” Yuka fumed. The silence lasted one second. Then two. Then ten.

“I see. So you would blame me too.” His perfectly calm voice cut through her anger. Slowly, she realized what she had just done, and what he would do to her. A breeze carried the scent of brine to her nose; her courage failed her, and she dropped to her knees.

Yuka’s shadow suddenly twisted and reared up. Screaming, she shut her eyes and waited for her death.

But it did not come.

She opened her eyes. Takasato stood there, his back turned. But what surprised her most was the person standing between her and him; a tall, majestic girl, whose long, brilliant red hair flowed down her back. She wore loose, comfortable clothing, and a sword covered in cloth was strapped to her back. Her hand was resting on the Takasato’s shoulder. “Na- Nakajima-san?”

“Who are you?” Takasato turned to look at her.

The girl stood her ground. “Nakajima Yoko. Empress of Kei.”

“Kei?” Takasato seemed taken aback by the word. His eyes took on a glassy look, and it seemed his mind was wandering. Yoko smiled. He shot a quick glance at Yuka.

“Yes, Kei.” Takasato took several steps backwards, and stumbled. “Do you remember? Do you remember Kei? Or Tai? Or any of the other kingdoms?”

Takasato sat there, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his head in pain. Yoko shook her head. She should have known it would not be that easy. Takasato was a taika, and probably Taiki at that, and she suspected that something horrible had happened such that he was thrown back into this world. Slowly, Yoko took her sword and unwound the folds of cloth binding the blade. A weird blue light glowed from the blade.

“Takasato-san. Look.” That was not the voice Yuka had known Yoko to use; no, that was the voice of an empress who demanded obedience and expected it. And he obeyed.

It was if Takasato was immediately lost in the blade.


Chapter 5

Images, images; swirling in the still waters. One here, one there; coming into focus and out. Now and again, one catches him, but not for long, never for long. In this place, time is nothing and everything. Here, now, a scene catches him: it was the place of his dreams, a snow-covered landscape, barren and cold. The wind whipped up the clouds of fine snowflakes around a few dark figures, stumbling through the waist high snow. His heart knew its reality, and he reached for them in compassion, but the image was snatched away.

Another, now: a winding path through the mountains, a maze, he knew. The random turns did not faze him, for he knew the paths by heart. A gate, high, mighty, majestic. It opened before him, and the monastery was visible. And he saw a tree, a old, withered tree. Yet not withered, for there grew a fruit upon its branches, a single, golden fruit. He knew it, for he had painted it and set it down on canvas…

He was in a lovely bed; a maiden stood there, waiting. A strange creature, one from his dreams, lay on the ground. They saw him awake, and began to fuss over him, dressing him. Another one came and served him a meal. He was in the courtyard, now; there were thousands, no, tens of thousands of people there. They all watched him in anticipation, for whom he chose would be emperor.

A vision invaded his mind, and the sky turned dark and gloomy. A red light suffused through his eyes, and a swirling vortex descended from the heavens. A tornado? No, something else, far more insidious and much more dangerous. He could only watch as the tree’s fruit was taken from it and swallowed up.

A man stood before him, his face blank. Takasato knew him, and knew him well, but for all his knowledge, he could not remember. He bowed before him, and then heard himself swearing allegiance to the man; no, the emperor.

The waters swirled once more, and then the light faded.


Yoko stood there, still, drawn sword in hand. She gripped the hilt like a knife, blade downwards. Her arm was getting tired, and the sword sagged a little. The spell was broken, and Takasato stirred. The tenseness was gone from his limbs, but the turmoil behind his eyes remained. He slumped to the ground. Yoko lowered her sword, and stepped forward to help him up.

“Stop that immediately. Who are you? Why are you here?”

The voice cut through the silence, and Yoko turned to look around. A crowd had gathered in a ring around them. The speaker, to her surprised, she recognized. It was her old homeroom teacher. She turned to him. “Sensei. Yoko Nakajima.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Of course they would not recognize her; she had changed. Gone was the red haired, grey-eyed, pale, soft-spoken, shy and uncertain class president. Yoko, though still red haired, now had brilliantly red locks, spilling down her back in pride. Her eyes were a deep green, endless in their depth. Nowhere to be found was her pale skin; in its place, a dark tone had suffused it. And her soft-spoken, shy and uncertainty were gone. In its place was the majesty and authority of an empress.

Her teacher narrowed his eyes. “Give me that sword, and come with me. You too, Sugimoto-san, Takasato-san.”

Yoko stopped for a second, a red light flashing through her eyes. Then she sheathed the sword, and offered it to her teacher hilt-first. Jyouyu, her hinman, was useful, but at times like these, he was merely an annoyance. If anyone would threaten her, he would sometimes act of his own accord, and take control of her body. It happened a lot at first, but now she was able to consciously control him. Most of the time, at least.

The teacher placed his hand on Takasato’s forehead to see if he was ok. Takasato began to stir. Yoko realized in that instant what he was doing, and started to shout a warning, but it was too late. Takasato’s eyes snapped open in fear, and he forcefully snapped away from the teacher. Taking a quick glance around, he saw the crowd and ran away through it.

Yoko started after him, but the teacher said, “Stop. You’re not off the hook yet either.”

Yoko relented in resignation.


Interlude

Something changed within Taiki. Some new hate flowed into the void. And it ate at what was inside.


Chapter 6

The questioning was brutally thorough, Yoko thought. Of course, carrying around a sword and dressed in outlandish clothes didn’t help one bit. Her profile didn’t match the school profile reports either. At least they found out that the sword wasn’t “real”. That was the one bright spot so far today. One thing she was dreading, though. Technically, she was still a minor, so they had called her parents. Ironic, wasn’t it? Yoko had been through so much; nearly died several times, become empress, rooted out corruption in her kingdom, saved lives, killed… and her parents were required to know that she was here, in school, in trouble for trespassing? Yoko laughed silently. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see them; it was just she was afraid that they wouldn’t accept her as their daughter anymore. After all, she wasn’t the same person, anymore.

Steps sounded along the hall; Yoko froze. Yuka caught the sudden tenseness in the air, and knew what Yoko was afraid of. After all, even Yuka didn’t believe Yoko was Yoko at first.

The doors opened, and Yoko’s mother and father came in.

“Welcome, Nakajima-san.” The principal motioned for them to take a seat, and them did.

“Mom? Dad?”

The principal spoke again. “Sir, is this girl your daughter? She appeared today on the roof of the school with a drawn sword-” at this he indicated the sword on his desk, then continued, “and claims to be Nakajima Yoko, your daughter.

Her father was the first to speak. “Who are you?”

“Dad, it’s me, Yoko. Your daughter.”

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my daughter. My daughter wouldn’t dress like this. You don’t even look like my daughter. Now who are you really?”

“Dad, please, listen. I’m Yoko, your daughter. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve gone through a lot, and it’s a really long story. I really am your daughter.”

“It’s true my daughter had red hair, but even she didn’t have hair like yours. She might have gotten into gangs, but she wouldn’t have dressed up like this. No, if this is what my daughter is like now, I never had a daughter.” With that, he turned on his heel and left. Yoko felt tears coming to her eyes.

“Mother, please tell him. Please believe me.”

Her mother just glanced at her sadly. She looked as if to say something, but then looked after her father. She shook her head, and then followed him. Then Yoko wept.

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care who you claim to be, Nakajima Yoko-san, but you were trespassing on school property with a drawn sword. I don’t care about the sword being real or not, but others may not be so kind. Get out of my school, and don’t bother my students again. Now leave.” He motioned for her to leave. Yoko bowed, and took her sword from his desk, then left.

“Sugimoto-san, please return to class; we’ll find Takasato and find out what really happened between those two. Don’t you worry.”

Yuka nodded, and walked out of the room. She stopped right outside, for Yoko was waiting there, leaning against the wall. “Yoko-san…”

“I’m sure you’re curious about this entire affair, and since you called me at first, you deserve an explanation. Also, there’s something else I need to give you.” Yoko looked much less majestic and confident now.

Yuka nodded, and said, “I skip class often enough, one day won’t hurt too much.”

They left the school together.


Chapter 7

As they walked in the park, Yoko began to explain the dream she had, and what she had done in response. She told Yuka of the kingdom of Tai, of what she suspected of Takasato. “That response to the teacher placing his hand on his forehead is proof enough. Takasato is Taiki.”

Yuka was silent. From what she knew of kirin, they were gentle, kindly creatures. They never killed, and tried to prevent suffering of any kind. Even the scent of blood was anathema to them. And yet, Takasato, if he were a kirin, had killed. Not just once, but many times, and mostly for nothing more than an insult.

Yoko fell silent. Yuka asked, “What is it, Yoko?”

“I said I had something else to give you.” Yuka nodded, and Yoko reached into the folds of her cloak and brought out an old, rusted, beat-up revolver. “You know Asano-kun, right?”

Yuka nodded, “Yes.” Of course she did; he was her boyfriend, and had gone missing while in the 12 Kingdoms. She could see that Yoko had a burden on her, and it was related to Asano in some way.

Yoko pressed on. “That is a memento of him; he is dead.” Yuka sat in silence, so Yoko pressed onwards. “He found this gun while traveling with a band of performers, and stayed with them. He was not as lucky as you; he never managed to receive help other than from them. He couldn’t communicate with anyone; the first he found was me. And he tried to kill me with this.”

Yuka snapped her head up. She herself had tried to do the same thing as Asano. Yoko kept going, and told her of his deeds; what he went through, how he suffered. And how his final, valiant, yet ultimately meaningless attempt at redemption resulted in his death at the hands of the people of her country.

Yoko paused. “Tell his family. Tell his story. The time may come when I can return and bring you to his grave. But now, kept that, stay here, and tell his story. I must go; there is a task that I have to complete, here and now. I’m sorry, Yuka-san; I couldn’t save him.”

Yoko smiled sadly at Yuka, and handed her the gun. Yuka asked in her quiet voice, “You will come back alive, right?”

Yoko got up and replied without facing her, “Definitely. When all is done, I’ll be going home to Kei, just as you came back.”


Interlude
Sanshi was dying. Gouran lay on his deathbed. Taiki had poisoned himself. The trickle of life-sustaining power was thoroughly corrupted and poisoned. No longer could Sanshi survive.


Chapter 8

Yoko sat on the bench in the park, alone and lonely. She had no idea where to start looking for Takasato. The boy had run off, away from the school and his home. His disappearance made things considerably more dangerous and harder for her.

Not only that, Yoko was exhausted.

She hadn’t had a chance to rest since she got to Hourai. Strange, that she had begun to think of her homeland as that; it had always been nihon, Japan. But Yoko supposed that her real homeland was the 12 kingdoms, and the country of Kei.

She had left Yuka at school, and had gone out to search for her prey alone. A feeling crept up to Yoko, a strange sense of clairvoyance. She was in the right place, here, now. But her mind was too muddled to make sense of it. Maybe she had been too hasty. She had forgotten about money, and the importance of money. Naturally, Kei did not have any money suitable for Hourai. So now, Yoko was cold, tired, and hungry.

Lying down on the bench, Yoko let loose her worries for a second and closed her eyelids. Hankyo and Kyouki, her shirei, had no luck searching for him either, and she recalled them silently with a silent command. Breathing deeply, she tried to relax as best she could, until a shadow passed across the sky.

She opened her eyes to stare straight into a filthy, unshaven face.

“Hello, miss. You don’t look like you’re from around here.” The face belonged to one of several, standing in a loose circle around her.

Yoko frowned, and slid out from beneath the stench of the thug’s breath. “Yes. I’m from another country,” Yoko replied carefully.

“Well, let’s just say that there’s a tax for passing through these parts alone. 50000 yen. Or else…” His eyes trailed off to look at his fellows crookedly.

Yoko smiled tiredly. “You’ve caught me at a bad time. I don’t have any money on me. And I hope that you leave me be. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The thug looked at her, then at his comrades. They all roared with laughter. The head brigand moved closer, and slipped a knife out of his pocket. “Look miss, if we don’t get what we want, we’ll take what we-”

He stopped in mid-sentence as Yoko planted a foot firmly into his stomach and launched him backwards. In the same, smooth motion, she drew her sword. She had gotten some distance, but she was still in the ring of thugs.

“Fiesty one! I’ll have my way with you!” The leader charged at her, knife in hand.

Yoko closed her eyes for a second, throwing a quick prayer to Jyouyu, telling him not to kill these people. Then her eyes snapped open, and her sword flashed out. A knife went thudding into the trunk of a nearby tree, deeply imbedded, and the leader was missing a portion of his hair. The strands settled slowly in the slight breeze.

“Why you-!” At that, the entire gang charged her. Yoko prepared to take a leap, but was stopped by a sight that stunned her.

A giant youma, with claws the size of lampposts, stalked towards her in the park. A toutetsu. As the thugs tackled her, she noticed the small figure standing on the back of the toutetsu: Takasato Kaname.

With a scream of outrage at the thugs, a red light flashed through her eyes; and this time, Yoko made no attempt to stop it. Her knee found the crotch of the thug holding her sword arm. Her sword ripped through the shoulder of another thug; as she withdrew the blade, it dripped with the dark red of a severed vein. The pommel smashed a third in the face, and her forehead met a fourth one’s nose. Suddenly free, she sprang forward and charged towards Takasato.

The sword was bloody, and she knew that she stank of it. The toutetsu advanced forward, slowly. A lack of concern was in Takasato’s eyes. Yoko had never seen anything like it, such mindless intent in a kirin’s eyes. Not hate, nor murderous spirit, just mindless intent. She had no doubt it was because she had stopped him from killing Yuka the day before. What had caused him to become like this?

One claw struck down, then the other. Yoko dodged both, jumped onto the claw, and ran up the length of it. She had no desire to kill it, as her business was with Takasato.

With a yell, she took a leap and pushed off the toutetsu’s head, landing near Takasato. He stood there in surprise, seeing her move so quickly and determinedly. Of course, his previous targets were not empresses in possession of a hinman. Yoko took the chance to sweep the flat of her blade up against his bare neck. Takasato stiffened noticeable, and then turned white when Yoko embraced him tightly.

Yoko smiled; she had those thugs to thank, for giving her the blood she needed to stop Takasato without hurting him. Kirin could not stand even the smell of blood. At least that much had not changed about him.

Takasato, all of a sudden, went limp. Yoko frowned; even Keiki would not faint so suddenly at blood. The toutetsu yowled loudly, and reared up. Yoko took Takasato and leapt off its back. Landing safely on the ground, she made sure the thrashing toutetsu was not about to threaten her. Then Yoko let Takasato onto the ground.

Yoko noticed at first that not all the blood was from her sword; there was a trickle of blood flowing down from the centre of Takasato’s forehead. Yoko frowned; if she remembered correctly, that was the exact place of kirin’s horn, the source of his or her power. If Takasato-san’s, no, Taiki’s horn, was injured, then it would explain much about his presence in Hourai and his inability to return or remember.

Yoko brought out the precious jewels that were tied to her sword’s scabbard. They had saved her life long before by healing a wound that would have eventually led to her death. Here, she hoped that they could heal a grievous wound that Taiki’s horn had taken.

The two small spheres fit perfectly into her hand. Willing them to work their healing magic, she held them over the bleeding spot on Taiki’s forehead.

As she worked, she looked around for the toutetsu, but it was no longer there. A small, stray dog was the only living thing left in the park. The thugs had long before run, after seeing the appearance of the huge toutetsu. The dog came closer, whining at her.

She reached out to shoo the dog away, but it hissed at her and made as if to bite her. Yoko drew her hand back in a hurry. The dog came to Taiki, and began to lick the blood off him. Already, Taiki was regaining his color, and his breathing began to even out. Yoko dared to breathe out in relief. It seemed to have worked, but Taiki was still unconscious. She took the cloth her sword was wrapped in, and helped the dog wipe off the blood.

In the faint background, she heard sirens getting louder. To no one in particular, or perhaps the stray dog, she said, “I guess it’s time to go home.”

She grabbed Taiki in her arms, and walked off into the maze of the city. As she walked, the dog followed her every move.


Interlude

Sanshi breathed deeply; for the first time in many a long month, a steady flow of power, clean and untainted, entered the void. Taiki, it seemed, had begun the long road to recovery, and this time for good.


Chapter 9

Yoko stood on the dock, keenly aware of the breeze coming off the sea. It was probably her imagination, but she thought she could smell the scent of Kei coming from it.
This was no longer her world. No one knew her, here; not even her parents. It was like when she first left Hourai and went to Kou. She sighed deeply. Maybe she would not even come back to take Yuka to visit Asano’s grave.

A figure stood at the end of the dock, silhouetted in the setting sun. Yoko frowned; she didn’t expect anyone else to be here. She walked over, thinking as she went whether to leave a last greeting to her parents with him, never to return again. Yoko felt guilty about Yuka, and being unable to see her again. But if this world did not accept her, then she would not be coming back again.

As Yoko got closer, she gasped; she knew that person, and knew her well.

“Yoko.” Her mother’s voice was like a gentle spring, peace to her anguished soul.

“Mother…” Yoko placed Taiki gently down. “Who told you I would be here?”

Her mother stood up and walked towards her. “Sugimoto-san told me of this place; where she came back from your world. It is your world, is it not, Empress of Kei?”

At that, her mother bowed before her. “Mother… please, don’t bow before me. Here, I am nothing but your daughter, and I wish nothing more than to be only that.”

Her mother began to cry, the tears glowing in the fading light. “Yoko, I ask that you forgive your father; he has always felt that you were too different to be his. Now, you have surpassed everything we could have expected of you; if you cannot have his blessing, then at least you should have mine. Yoko, go and be a good empress. For your own sake.”

Yoko nodded. A great burden had been lifted from her heart. “Thank you, mother.”

With that, Yoko unsheathed her sword. Concentrating, Yoko focused the energy and power of her sword into a whirling pool of light. The shoku took form, a tornado of yellow light in the middle of the sea.

“Say hello to father for me.”

Her mother nodded, and Yoko turned to go. She called upon her shirei again, “Kyouki!” Then she cradled the boy in her arms.

As she left, her mother called out, “Itte rasshai!”

Yoko, smiling, turned and replied, “Itte kimasu!”


Postlude

Taiki slowly became aware of himself; the sleepiness washed off his brain in waves. His body ached, and a faint smell of blood nauseated him. But it was not bad, and it seemed as if from a memory that was far off.

He realized he was lying on a bed, one that was surpassingly comfortable. Warm, soft, safe, peaceful, at last. That was how he felt.

As his mind cleared, the memories came back: the year as Taiki, the betrayal, his subsequent self-banishment to Hourai. The killing at his hands…

Taiki shuddered. At that moment, something moved beside him, something large, something familiar and friendly. Taiki opened his eyes and found himself looking at his old friend and protector, Sanshi. She looked none too well, but she was happy and smiling.

“Welcome home, Taiki.”

Yuka nodded, and walked out of the room. She stopped right outside, for Yuka was waiting there, leaning against the wall. “Yoko-san…”

Yuka nodded, and walked out of the room. She stopped right outside, for Yoko was waiting there, leaning against the wall. “Yoko-san…”

I would have loved to expand this and develop the histories much more, but I didn't have the room to do so . So I must just leave it such that you must watch the anime to fully catch everything