“It is true, Uemura-zur. I saw her myself. She wears O-Shizuka-shon’s clothing because her own was soaked in demon blood,” said the guard captain.
Uemura rapped his fingers on the table. For some time he said nothing. “O-Shizuka-shon,” he said. “What have you seen in this matter?”
Your parents did their best to instill in you something like decorum. You were not very good at it, but every now and again, if you tried, you could make your features blank as paper. You did so then.
“Barsalai Shefali was wounded fighting Leng,” you said. The captain spat on the ground when you spoke the demon’s name. “She now sits before you whole and unharmed. I fail to understand what is so confusing.”
“You know well what is confusing,” Uemura replied—but he kept his voice light. Friendly. Again, he turned to me. I think this is the most a Hokkaran noble has ever looked at me. “Oshiro-sun, baseless though this rumor may be, I kindly request you allow my healer to examine you. If only to assuage the fears of our guard captain, here.”
I stiffened. Healers never liked being near me to begin with. What would they think now? Would they know? How I wanted to reach for your hand. Perhaps then your thoughts could’ve melded with mine, and we could’ve made a decision without having to speak to each other.
But I could not.
“Uemura-zul, you cannot be serious. Barsalai Shefali slew a demon four days ago, and you want to have her examined?”
He smiled and laughed. Oil on flame, that was.
“You laugh? Uemura-zul!” you said, rising to your feet. “How many demons have you slain? Or have you never ventured far enough away from my uncle’s heels to see one?”
The smile died on his face. “O-Shizuka-shon,” he said, his voice low as a stalking cat, “you insult me.”
“Your presence insults me,” you said.
And I admit I gaped a bit. Not five minutes ago, you were all pleasantries with him. The guard captain eyed me; he must have thought this was my influence on you.
Why not tear his throat out and be done with it?
Because that is not what civilized people do. That is not what I do.
“O-Shizuka-shon,” said Uemura. “You will not speak to me in such a way. You are a young girl; your uncle worries for you. I am to bring you home safe. If that means restraining you, I shall not hesitate.”
A string snapped between my ears.
I rose. “You will not,” I said.
“What did you say?” he said. At this point, his hand fell to his sword. I did not want to hurt him. I did not. Ideally, no one would be hurt here, but …
But I could not let them take you away. I could not bear the thought of it.
I stood in front of you. “You will not,” I repeated.
“Oshiro-sun,” said Uemura. He rose to meet my eyes, or tried to. I had a hand and a half over him in height. “You understand I am the Emperor’s Champion?”
I nodded.
“And still you bar my path?”
Again, I nodded.
“I could have you arrested,” he said, though I cannot say with any malice. Simply a statement of fact. “You’d remain in the prisons here for years. Is that what you want?”
What I wanted was to hurt him. What I wanted was to strike him down and run off with you. The winds would lead us where we were needed.
Your foot brushed against mine. When I looked to you, your eyes spoke to me: Stand aside, my love, if only for a moment.
I did. Begrudgingly.
“The Son of Heaven does not worry about me,” you said, your voice calmer and more level than I thought it would be. “He cares about his dynasty. I have the misfortune of being a part of it.”
Guards spat on the ground; Uemura winced. May as well slight the Father himself.
“You have been tasked with returning me to the capital. I say to you that I will return, on my own terms, in eight years,” you said. “And if you restrain me, you will have to get ahold of me first. Two dozen men you have waiting outside. I would fight them all at once and win.”
You paused, daring him to correct you.
“That is why you have not asked me to duel,” you continued. “Because you are well aware I would win.”
Uemura crossed his arms. “You cannot expect that to work,” he said. “O-Shizuka-shon, the Emperor himself sent me. I will not return to Fujino empty-handed because you told me to. Especially not when … when Oshiro-sun’s health is in doubt.”
“It is either you let us leave or I duel you,” you said. “And you do not want to duel.”
Being defeated by a sixteen-year-old girl would not be good for Uemura. Bad enough if he lost; the Champion was not supposed to lose. But to you? To a girl, to a young girl? No one would take him seriously again. Even if you were O-Shizuru’s daughter.
He tugged at his whiskers. “You have insulted me,” he said. “I cannot let you escape punishment for that.”
You scoffed. “You insulted Barsalai Shefali,” you said. “I do not know what you expected to receive in turn. She is too quiet to insult you herself, and so I spoke in her stead.”
Uemura and you stared at each other. This was a different sort of duel. If he wanted, he could call for the guards to intervene. We’d have to fight them then. I did not trust myself in such a situation.
We could surrender to him. We could let him lead us back to Fujino, where your uncle would marry you off to whoever curried the most favor with him, and I would likely be put to death for my condition.
You could challenge him. You would win. I’d never seen him touch a sword, but I knew you would win.
Finally his posture relaxed. “If Oshiro-sun consents to an examination, then I will consent to your request,” he said.
I grunted. So it was up to me, then. I thought of you. I thought of your reputation, I thought of your stake on the throne. If this came to blows, you might lose favor.
You looked to me, your brows knit with concern. “You do not have to,” you whispered.
And then your face changed. Then your porcelain skin cracked; then your hair fell from your head in clumps; your tongue became a wriggling worm and maggots crawled out of your eyes.
“You could kill everyone in this room,” you said.
Except it was not you. The awake part of my mind knew this, but there you were—there it was—staring me down and smiling with blackened teeth. My stomach turned inside out. I staggered backwards.
“Shefali?”
Was that your voice? Was that the Not-You’s voice? Laughing, laughing, why couldn’t they just leave me alone? People were going to see. I took a few deep, rattling breaths and tried to blink away the apparition. Gradually its face melted back into yours.
“Shefali, are you all right?”
You reached for me. You. The real you. Sweat trailed down my forehead. I licked my lips and stood, knowing the sort of scrutiny you’d get for letting me touch you.
“Doctors,” I said.
For I no longer had the luxury of hiding it, and, more important, I needed to know if I would get worse. I needed to know if I would get bad enough that I might hurt you.
*