THE UGLY PRINCESS - PART 3 ---***--- The Ai Emperor had married, after his abdication, the princess originally betrothed in the cradle to his nephew and successor, the Soyokaze Emperor. That betrothal had been terminated because the scandal of the girl's mother divorcing her husband to marry a gaijin rendered her unsuitable for the role of Empress. Three children engendered from the union either miscarried at a late stage of pregnancy or died within minutes of birth, but twins, a boy and a girl, lived. The Ai Emperor lived very quietly with his wife and children in the country, and died of heart failure when the twins were ten years old. The girl was said to be so handicapped that the family preferred her not to be exposed to public gaze, on the rare occasions when she had attended Court ceremonies she was always heavily veiled and closely attended, and was known in common talk as the Ugly Princess. The boy, a popular and attractive youth devoted to his sister and considered to have great promise, died with his paternal grandmother in a terrible car accident. His mother and sister, greatly affected by the tragedy, had rarely appeared in public since it occurred; however, his mother, an Imperial Princess of immensely ancient lineage, was so conscious of her duty to her blood that she was still Head of the Emperial Household Office, working devotedly to ensure the smooth running of the Household and spending the rest of her time in study, prayer - she was a devout Buddhist - and the care of her handicapped daughter. ---***--- That was the official story. ---***--- The Princess now known as Aijo, her half-gaijin half-sister, her half-gaijin half-sister's mad bastard half-sister, her not-at-all-handicapped daughter and an unknown number of other people of rank were members of an ancient sect founded by the half-mythical eighth-century Empress-regnant Himiko, devoted to the preservation of order by magic. The child, the offshoot of bloodlines stretching down almost two millenia, was already some sort of witch or mage or priestess, and possessed the potential to become a force of awesome power. But she wasn't yet strong enough or well-trained enough to protect herself against the gathering of dark forces which were determined to steal her and use her for their own ends. Her father, also a mage, her grandmother, another one, and her brother (who seemed to be the only one of the entire family unmarked by any form of magical talent) had all given their lives to protect her, though the deaths had been dressed up for public consumption as something altogether more plausible. Now the lady Aijo and her cohorts believed that a runaway hound from Hasegawa's pack had crossed time and dimensions and could link them to some force that would help them to protect the girl, or at least to find out about the danger stalking her; and they thought that, somehow, a man who believed they were all crazy and had no time for magic whatsoever could lead them to this force by leading them to Benten. ---***--- That was the story according to the databanks at the Summer Palace of the Head of the Imperial Household Office. Much to Hasegawa's surprise, the terminal in his suite had given him free access to all the directories marked as level-one in the databanks. He didn't know how far he could trust it - whatever these women might or might not be, they were certainly gifted manipulators of information and perception. He'd pleaded a headache and a need to think after lunch, having spent the whole meal avoiding the eyes of Melissa Kotonoi and finding himself unwilling to confront her about their strange yet undeniably intimate relationship - intimate on her side, at least, since she knew more about him now than he cared to know about himself. A servant had escorted him back to the elegant, simply furnished rooms on an upper floor. He'd found his case unpacked, all his little devices removed, neutralised and neatly laid out on the large desk. The comms screen had informed him that his secretary had called the Oedo number provided in his invitation and asked him to call back and confirm his safe arrival; and he'd done that, telling her that the Inner Palace was less fabulous than they'd imagined but very elegant, and even using the codeword they'd agreed. The recall button played him back both conversations on visual. Himself under the influence of drugs, or a visual construct in the computer? He couldn't tell. Oh, they were good. They were very good. He grinned wryly, acknowledging that it made him feel better not to have been taken by amateurs. But magic... That was something else. Still, when you eliminate every other possibility, what is left, however unlikely, must be the truth. His job, therefore, was to eliminate every other possibility. He knew it wouldn't be easy, and he knew that whatever he discovered could be wiped from his conciousness if his hostesses found he knew it and decided he wasn't to be trusted. Still, he was a cop. He had the rest of today, and some of tomorrow. He had to go for it, find out what he could. Besides, it would be something to find out how that fucker Benten got away without blowing his head Off. He turned back to the terminal, punched up the map of the Palace so that he could carry an nosing around. Clicking on a room at random had brought interesting results so far; this time he found himself looking into a dojo where a group of young men were engaged in aikido - or so he thought until he realised the swords were live steel. Another click took him to another dojo where a tall, greyhaired European woman and Nyan-chan were working out together, both in padded helmets, plus heavy-duty upper body and joint pads. He watched for a few minutes and saw why. It was a freeform, viciously dirty bout using elements of many martial arts plus low punches, kicks and grabs that only just stopped short of eye-gouging. He saw a couple of classic Thai kickboxing moves, a brief but perfect jujitsu kata, and a take straight from a Bruce Lee movie when Nyan-chan twisted out of a high throw, ran up a wall and sprang down onto her opponents back, only to be dislodged by a beautiful forward roll and spring up spinning and kicking for the head. As her foot connected there was a tap at the door. "Come in." The shoji slid back and Melissa entered the room. Reacting on pure instinct and so fast it shocked even him, Hasegawa lunged for her throat, and at that same instant, with quiet and extremely polite efficiency, the wall slid back and two very large guards in traditional dress grabbed him and levered him off her. He glared; they made no move to release him, holding on firmly to his arms, crushing the cotton of the yukata he'd slipped on after lunch. No shakes this time thinking about what she'd done to him, he just wanted to kill her. Not even the thought of killing her slowly could deter him from the pure need to see her dead. Straightening her dress - another of those floaty Western things with a neckline plunging just a little too far for decorum - and patting a few disordered strands of her long, long hair into place, she said, "You can let Hasegawa-dekacho go. He has too much good sense to waste any more effort on trying to kill me here in the castle, don't you, Hasegawa-san?" "Not if I see a chance." It wasn't now, he knew; the guards had let go of his arms immediately she told them to, but they were still very firmly at his side. "You won't," she smiled. "This palace was built when every noble in Japan was terrified of assassination; it has hidden guardrooms and secret passages everywhere. Those two have been in your room on watch ever since you arrived." "They must have known how I feel about you, lady. Have you come to slip me another of your special little cocktails?" "Aijo-sama has every visitor guarded. It protects them, as well as making sure they don't commit any major social solecisms like killing their hostess's half-sister's half-sister. The only time at which you will be more than a fraction of a second away from a group of guards who are more than capable of stopping you, the Japanese Self-Defense Force, the Pacific Rim Alliance and Godzilla without breaking a sweat, is when you're alone with one or more of the Ladies of the Household, and even then they'll be within five seconds' reach." He grinned like a lizard. "That will be time enough." "You poor sap, you really don't get it, do you? Any of the women could stop you with a thought. Aijo could stop you without even thinking. And as for Nyan-chan..." She shrugged. "Nobody really knows what Nyan-chan can do, yet. We just haven't found anything she can't. Except sing, and do impressions." Hasegawa's impression was that this conversation had veered into loonyland. "Impressions?" "You know, like, erm, 'Whats up, doc?...'" The rapid switch to squeaky brought a double-take; she chuckled. "Careful! Just for a second you looked as if that stoneface might crack. Most of us can do that kind of thing - I bet even you could - but not Nyan-chan. She can change her voice, just like she can shapeshift, by magic, but the energy expenditure's pretty shocking. Oh look, you've gone all stony on me again. You're no fun sober." Hasegawa could not remember when self-control had last been such an effort; not for many, many years, maybe not even since childhood. When he could speak without grinding his teeth, he asked. "What are you doing here? What do you want?" "Let's not talk about that; you shock too easily. If you're done thinking and your headache's gone, Aijo-sama wondered if you would come to the garden hall. She also said I should see you to apologise. I shouldn't have treated you as I did. Not without asking first. She said I had to say I'm sorry." "Why? You aren't." She laughed. "You're very observant, kacho, and right. I'm sorry I didn't ask your consent first but I knew I wouldn't get it if I did. I'm not sorry I had the chance to see into your mind and definitely not sorry I had the chance to play with your body. I wish I could do some more of that, with your full and conscious participation. It's just that I met you while you were on that Saionji job and couldn't resist the temptation to see what you were really like. I thought it would end there, but my dear sister and her dear sister knew what I was up to and decided you could be useful to them. Otherwise you'd never have known it was me." She sighed. "I don't suppose it would help if I told you I was planning to introduce myself at a social function sometime soon, and try and seduce you? No, I didn't think it would help, but its true. You see, Hasegawa-kacho, you're an - interesting person. I'd like us to have a chance to get to know each other." "I really don't get off on rapists. I was married to one for too long. Do you normally have this kind of conversation in front of the staff?" "These aren't staff, they're Household. There are no secrets in this family." "No wonder you're all mad. Gentlemen, if you would care to return to your posts I promise you I will not hurt this - person - yet." The guards bowed, went back through the wall and slid it closed, all soundlessly. Hasegawa leaned closer and examined the panels. There was no more sign of a room behind than there had been expression on either man's face throughout the whole of his conversation with Melissa. "I won't waste any more effort on trying to kill you here. Should we keep an ex-Empress waiting like this?" "So its definitely no to a date, then?" He didn't dignify the question with a reply. Melissa shrugged and led the way through the door and down the long, cool corridors. ---***--- "Hasegawa-kun, I would like to propose a small experiment." "I've had enough of experiments with your family, thank you, ojosama." "Melissa will not be involved in this one." She sipped the tea Nyan-chan had poured, one hand under the sixteenth-century bowl, one on the rim, a perfect picture of traditional japanese charm. Hasegawa's own tea was untouched on the low table before him. "You have been brought here so that we can ask for your help, the difficulty for both of us is that you do not believe that what we are asking is possible. But you have also come here to mourn your wife, my distant cousin, Sachiko." "And tomorrow at dawn we hold a formal ceremony of mourning, yes?" "Yes, we will observe all the correct forms, and those of us who knew her will mourn her. But did you truly know her, Hasegawa-kun? Because to truly mourn her, you must first truly know her; not just the bitter, driven woman or the damaged child but the real, essential Sachiko." Surprised by the question, he shook his head. "How well does a man ever know a woman? I know a little of what made her as she was, enough to make me think that the - the real, essential Sachiko was lost forever a long time ago. She's better off dead. Maybe I can't truly mourn her." "Would you wish to try? Because, if you would, we can introduce you to the real Sachiko." "How?" "In a way that will serve both our purposes. Hasegawa-kun, you've been combing our computer systems all afternoon and even though you still disbelieve absolutely in the reality of magic, you are intrigued. You also have your own interest in finding this Benten person and knowing how he escaped your net. If you agree, we will demonstrate to you as powerfully as we can that what we have told you is true, that magic is real; and if you are satisfied with our demonstration, you will consider helping us." "And if I don't?" "Then tomorrow we will hold the ceremony and you will be taken back to Oedo and forget everything else. No harm will come to you whatever you decide. You have my word." "How will you show me that your magic is real?" "My daughter has many abilities; one is that she is seireitsukai, a... speaker with the dead, and an unusually powerful one. She can not only raise the spirits of the dead so that they can speak with us in this world; she can open a door into the region between their world and ours and let you go through it. There you can meet with Sachiko - the real Sachiko, not a dream or an illusion, free of the distortions imposed on her by her life in this world. You can talk to her, ask her whatever you will, and decide for yourself whether we are tricking you or not." He shook his head. "That will prove nothing. You can drug me, hypnotise me - anything." "We will set up whatever safeguards you choose, but we can't make you believe us unless you give us a chance." Hasagawa took a deep breath. "All right, but on my terms. It has to be now - no time to set up any tricks. It has to be in the garden, and I choose the spot so - " "No time to set up any tricks." Aijo looked at her daughter and Nyan-chan nodded, smiling. "And no hypnosis will be needed, Hasegawa-kun. If you make no judgements, but simply allow yourself to observe as openly and calmly as a good policeman should, you will see that there is no need for artifice or deception. Go and choose your spot. Nyan-chan will go with you. I'll stay here with the screen open, so that you can see I am doing nothing but praying." "Praying?" "My child is going to open the door to the land of death. It is her gift and her skill and she does it well; but even so, she is my child, and death is death." Hasegawa walked to the far side of the garden, choosing a spot under a huge cedar tree that looked straight across to the open screens of the hall. Aijo was sitting, head bowed, and though the sound was very faint on the still early evening air he knew she was chanting the Lotus Sutra. Nyan-chan, dressed like him in a light cotton yukata, stood at his side, waiting. "Here. This will do." He looked down at her. "Can you really do this?" She nodded. "All my life. I only found out there was any difference between life and death when my father died. There's really nothing to be afraid of, Hasegawa-san." "Your mother is afraid for you." "My mother's always afraid for me. Its not just the bloodline and this danger they're worried about, its being a mother. She loves me more than herself, or her god, or even my father. She only stopped worrying about my brother when he died." As Hasegawa opened his mouth, then closed it again not knowing what to say, she sensed his confusion and laughed. "Once we're out of our bodies, providing our souls are strong there isn't really anything more that can harm us, and my brother Hiro has the strongest soul I've ever known. And he's with father and grandmother, so nothing can hurt him now. Are you ready to start?" "What do you want me to do?" "Just get comfortable and stay open to whatever happens. Don't be afraid - I can get you out and close the door at any time. If you feel that you want to stop, just say so." She sat down under the tree. "I'm going to lean against the trunk because this takes quite a lot of energy and I don't want to fall down. When you get back you'll probably find I'm unconscious but don't worry, thats normal." "Why?" She chuckled. "Did no-one ever tell you, Hasegawa-san, that you get nothing for nothing? This takes a lot out of me, so I shut down until I've recovered my strength. You couldn't fly from here to Oedo and back without refuelling, ne?" So they were more than half the refuelling range of a plane or spinner small enough to land here... Draw a circle on a map round Oedo, and... No, with a top-of-the-range model that would include half Honshu, maybe all the Sea of Japan, even some of the Chinese mainland... Hasegawa pulled his mind back to watch the girl. She sat quite still, the breeze stirring the ends of her hair; her eyes were open but when a strand of copper blew across her mouth she made no attempt to move it, and although she looked perfectly normal the quality of her stillness told Hasegawa that her attention was utterly absorbed elsewhere. A tiny insect, brilliantly green, landed on the collar of her yukata, vivid against the dark blue pattern. A space opened in the empty air beside her. Hasegawa looked at it and blinked. It was a rectangular opening about two metres tall by less than a metre wide - door-sized. Through it he could see a pale, soft light and the vague outlines of a garden, as if glimpsed through mist. He walked around the back of the door; there was nothing there, just grass, and air, and the trees against the far wall of the palace garden. A butterfly flew straight through where the door had been, heading for a clump of lillies by the far wall. He walked back through the space himself and shivered, feeling a sudden strange chill. When he turned, the doorway was still there, and Sachiko was standing in it. She didn't look as she had when he had last seen her. He'd only seen photos of her impaled against Basenji, but even tidied up the corpse hadn't been appetising. Now, though, she looked - wonderful. It was the only word he could find. There was a softness, a relaxation about her that had never been there in life, almost a harmony. And she looked younger - no, not younger; as though time had ceased to affect her. Her hair was falling round her shoulders, escaping from the ribbon she'd tied it back with; she was wearing a pale blue yukata with a pattern of starfish and waves, and her feet were bare. "Well?" she said, in a voice that was also softer and more harmonious, somehow. "Aren't you going to say hello?" "I don't know what to say. I'm stunned. I always thought you wouldn't be seen dead out of full makeup and Paris fashion, and here you are, definitely dead and definitely out of both." She smiled. "Say hello anyway. Its polite. You always have such polished manners." "I didn't think stiffs were supposed to take the piss." "And you always take refuge from shock in either crudeness or extreme formality. Its bound to be awkward for you - you're not used to talking to dead people." "On the contrary, I talk to some of the most interesting corpses in town; I just don't expect them to answer me." "Yes, but you see, corpses aren't the same thing as dead people. I'm afraid my corpse couldn't say much to you now; there isn't much of it left after the cremation." Now she chuckled. "You look even more shocked. Poor Juzo. Would you like to come in?" She stood back a little from the door as if to let him through, and he asked, "In where?" "It isn't a where, exactly. It's a sort of waiting area between your world and the others. Not really time or space or place, just - being. I can't describe it too well; you have to belong here before you understand it." "I don't want to belong there yet, thank you." "You don't need to understand it to be in it. You can stand in the viewing gallery of that tower of yours without the slightest notion of how it's engineered, but it doesn't worry you being there. Don't you trust Himiko-himechan?" It took him a moment or two to connect the affectionate-formal name with the girl everyone else - everyone alive, he amended - called Nyan-chan. If she's constructing this her control is excellent, he thought; to be able to use her own formal name instead of the one everyone uses all the time, even while creating an illusion as strong as this, is amazing. But if he accepted the girl as creating the illusion, then he was certainly crediting her with some kind of power, even though magic was absurd. He shook his head. "I haven't trusted anything female since I got to know my mother. Why don't you come out here?" "If I do that I can't have substance - I mean, I can't be solid. The physics are different on your side of this door. You're still alive, so you'll keep your substance if you visit this place. I've done with your kind of substance, so if I come through to your side I can only be a ghost." "Is that a problem?" "It means I can't kiss you so you can feel it." That was the last thing he'd expected. He was so astounded that he found himself walking through the door, and whereas from the back he'd been able to walk across an innocent patch of garden, the front led somewhere else. The band of mist was thin, only a matter of three or four metres; through it was another garden, soft grass, a stream and a stone pergola and a swing hanging from the bough of a huge tree a few yards away. It looked familiar, somehow. As soon as he was through the door Sachiko took his hand, her own feeling solid and warm, and led him through the mist. Looking back at the open door, he saw the castle garden just as dim and pale as this had been from the other side, but still there. Sachiko smiled. "You can go back anytime. Just tell her and walk through. There's nothing to be scared of." She lifted her face to his, brushing his lips with hers. "This is insane. Every time you kiss me something bad happens, definitely to me, usually to both of us. I've got to go to your mourning ceremony tomorrow and I can't do that covered in bruises. Sachiko -" She kissed his open mouth, sliding her tongue under and around his as her arms went round his neck, and it wasn't predatory, or violent, or mocking, it was just - perfect. Like the kiss he'd dreamed of getting from the first girl he ever fancied in high school. Like the kiss he'd dreamed, just once, secretly, of sharing with Sachiko, before he'd realised that sharing wasn't on the agenda for their marriage. She pressed herself against him and he felt his cock throb and stiffen. This is ridiculous, he thought. I'm kissing my dead wife and all of a sudden its love's young dream. If that kid is doing this, she's not just good, she's impossible. One of her hands slid down from his neck to the tie-belt of his yukata, fumbling with the knot. His own hands closed on her wrists and he pushed her away to arm's length. "Wait a minute. Why all the affection all of a sudden? What the hell's going on?" She looked up at him from melting brown eyes. "Juzo, when I died I started to realise why my life had been such hell. I started to see where I was stupid, and where I was responsible, and where I just couldn't have done anything else. I didn't understand, you see, because I'd only ever been used and abused, what it is to give and receive real friendship or real love. I have to learn all that before I can move on." "Move on?" He was still holding her wrists - warm wrists, but, he suddenly realised, with no pulse, no pulse at all. He loosened his hold and saw there were no marks on the perfect, unscarred skin where his fingers had gripped so tightly. She rubbed one wrist slowly. "The universe is a closed system and energy isn't lost from within it - just converted into other forms. Personality isn't lost either, but it can be - thrown away, dissipated, broken down. Each of us, as an individual, has to develop and grow and change, or else we cease to exist and our energy is put to other uses. Thats just as true when we die as while we're alive, What doesn't change can't grow, and what can't grow can't live. If I'm going to do - other things, in other areas of existence, then I've got to learn from my past. And, oh, Juzo, I want to do that so much." "Why?" She shook her head. "You have to see it to know. When you see it, you'll understand. But that won't be for a long time yet, and I need you to help me now." "I thought there was a catch. What is it?" "The two biggest unpaid debts of my last life are my marriage to you and my fear of my father. It'll take a while for me to deal with my father; but I was never so very far from loving you. For a little while I even thought maybe I could escape, with you." "Escape what?" "Myself. My past. My demons. But no-one ever does that." She laid her hands on his arms and leaned against him, her hair brushing his chin, smelling of sunshine and fresh-cut grass. "Before I can move on, Juzo, I have to fulfil my marriage vows, and be your wife in fact and in spirit as well as just on paper. Will you let me do that?" Her hands were on his belt again, and sliding inside the yukata and down his belly. "Please?" He groaned. Her fingers were working their way down with absolute determination, and they didn't have far to go. Her other hand had pushed the yukata down from his shoulder and she kissed the line of muscle that swept up from below his nipple to the armpit, then moved back and ran her tongue around the nipple. Her fingers slid inside his fundoshi, teasing the head of his cock, long, narrow nails just grazing the skin, leaving tingling trails of sensation. He hadn't had a woman since the - incident - at the library, and now he was going to have the woman who'd been the centre of all of his nightmares since. "What's the matter? I know you want me and you can feel how I want you." She pulled his hand to her breast, across the hard, pointed nipple, then down. "See... what is it? Don't you want me? You feel as if you want me..." Astoundingly, he did. Ever since the Melissa incident his dreams had been so powerful and so terrible that even though he woke several times most nights, screaming, but with a hard-on that would do a horse credit, he hadn't managed to keep one long enough to come - every time, the tiniest break in concentration on the mechanics of wanking had taken him flashing back to Sachiko covered in blood, Sachiko rotting away, dissolving hands in pools of flesh and slime still clutching for his cock, and it would collapse like a deflating balloon. He hadn't dared to try anything with a woman, terrified that word of his failures would spread, but now there was no sign of impending collapse. She pushed her yukata open - she was naked underneath it - and arched her back, guiding his fingers into her wet, warm cunt. Her hand tightened on his shaft, not turning to slime or trickling blood, just sending the most exquisite agony down the throbbing flesh and up again to the head that was glistening and dribbling semen onto those exquisite fingers. "Please, love, fuck me. Don't make me wait any longer, I want you inside me." She lifted her hand to her mouth and licked the glistening drops off her fingers, the tip of her tongue delicate and pink as a kitten's, her eyes never leaving his. Then she dropped to her knees and ran the tip of that kitten's tongue swiftly down his cock, from the aching red helmet along the underside of the shaft and down into the dark hair round his balls. He moaned and doubled over as if hit in the stomach, collapsing on top of her onto the soft grass and almost whispering. "Sachiko, I'm scared." "Anata..." She took his face between her hands, looking straight into his eyes. It was the first time she'd ever called him that, the commonplace name every Japanese wife uses to her husband, the plain, unadorned, non-honorific word for 'you': the word that said, whatever face we present to the outside world, however we conform to what society expects us, we know each other; no need for titles or customs or pretence between us. She kissed his mouth, gently, softly, and he realised he was no longer afraid of anything; then she rolled onto her back and spread her legs. "Please don't be scared. Nothing bad can happen to us here. I want you." For a second or two he didn't move, still not quite trusting himself not to lose his erection or come immediately; then he kissed her navel and ran his tongue down across the soft, firm flesh and through her pubic hair onto her clit. She moaned and arched her back, wriggling round and reaching for his aching cock. He lifted his head and grabbed her wrist, but gently. "If you do that I can't promise there'll be anything left to fuck you with. Lets take this slowly, ne..." He dropped his head again, letting his tongue move further down between her labia, exploring the soft folds, tasting her, his hands stroking her skin all the while. He couldn't see where they were going but it felt good and the little sounds that were coming from somewhere above his head let him known she was enjoying it too. His moved his tongue gently round her opening, feeling the muscles reflect his movements in shivers of pleasure; then she cried out. "Oh yes, thats so good..." He lifted his head and she pushed it back down again. "Do that some more..." As his tongue got back to work she moved her hands in his hair and he realised that his nasal bone was rubbing directly on her clitoris as his tongue teased deeper into her. He would have laughed if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. Instead, he concentrated on varying the tiny movements, feeling her get wetter every minute, listening to her. He realised that she was laughing was well as panting for breath, and lifted his head to look at her. Pink in the face and with tears of laughter in her eyes, she gasped, "You... bastard! A talent like that and you wait till I'm dead to use it... I always thought that hooter of yours had to have a genetic justification... Oh, Ju-chan, you look as if you've got snot all over your face and if you do that again I'll come right up your nose..." She was shaking with laughter, and suddenly so was he. He'd always hated her laughing at him, but this was different. His sense of unreality dissolved along with the last of his fears. This was really Sachiko and really him. He didn't understand it, wasn't entirely sure he believed it, but it felt as if it was happening and it felt good. Locking his hands on her waist, he sat back on his heels, lifting her onto his thighs, nuzzling her neck and shoulder as he thrust deep into her. She wrapped her arms round his neck and her thighs round his hips, and without knowing why, without thinking about anything, he stood up, carrying her against him, feeling her around him, and walked slowly over to the swing he'd noticed hanging from the branch of that huge old tree. He raised her slowly off him and swung her around, laying her across the seat; it hung about eighteen inches from the ground and there was some kind of soft tapestry draped across it. She turned her head to look at him, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes again. "Ju-chan, you knew! I didn't think you knew..." "Ssh." He knelt on the grass behind her, kissing her shoulder as his cock slid back into the rosy, wet slit, moving his mouth across to the back of her neck and the soft, soft lobe of her ear. Her hair had escaped from the ribbon and was falling around her face and trailing into the long grass. The tiny movements of the swing swayed her back and forward, back and forward along his shaft, sending agonies shooting through every muscle as he fought not to come right away. Clenching the fingers of one hand on her soft, rounded little buttocks as they pushed into his belly, he slid the other under her body and began to tease her clit. She moaned and moved forward against his fingers, her own clenching and uncienching in the green grass. "Harder.." As he rubbed and thrust she arched up and back against him, off the swing, her hands wrapping in his hair and tugging his head down so she could turn hers and gently bite the lobe of his ear. Laughing, he moved his fingers so that she caught her breath and stopped biting, catching her nipple between the fingernails of his other hand and pinching; another indrawn breath, and he could feel her beginning to come, wetter and hotter and more delicious than he'd ever imagined any woman could be. Without conscious thought he slid swiftly out of her, but before she had time to protest he was sitting on the swing and pulling her forward, facing him again, sitting on his lap with his cock inside her throbbing cunt, her lips parted, her face flushed and a look of absolute delight in her eyes. "Anata..." He hadn't been on a swing since he was a kid, but like riding a bike or fucking, you never lost the knack... Pushing off gently with one foot, he leaned back against the ropes and moved further into Sachiko, then forward again as the swing swooped down, one hand catching the ribbon that was about to fall from her hair as he closed his teeth on the soft skin of her neck. ---***--- He was completely unaware of the passage of time. Sometime after they fell off the swing and crawled through the grass to the pile of cushions in the pergola, unable to keep their hands and mouths off each other every inch of the way, Hasegawa woke from near-sleep with Sachiko's head resting on his shoulder and her hand wrapped round his cock. She was watching him, smiling. He smiled back and said drowsily, "Do you realise that the last time you had your hand on my dick there was a pan-scourer in it?" "Silly. That was your mother." He sat up, fully awake. She was right, but he'd never told her about it - never told anyone for that matter, buried it so deep that he'd almost forgotten himself. Had it come out while he was doped, here, or in that gaijin bitch's little games? How could it? How would anyone - Sachiko's hand on his arm recalled his attention. "How did you know about Bara no Himitsu?" "What?" "My favourite manga. I've always loved it, ever since it came out. I was ten and every girl in Oedo was in love with one of the charas. I even kept the giveaway poster of the garden where Char and Kyle used to meet in secret. When I came to meet you I made this garden look just like it, just for fun, but I never knew you knew the swing sequence was my most private fantasy..." She kissed him softly, her tongue teasing his. "Thank you." He shook his head, utterly baffled. "I don't know how... Wait a minute, was that the poster above your bed?" He remembered going into Sachiko's room after the funeral, the shock of finding that pink-frilled, fluffy-animal-filled little girl's dream bedroom behind the door he'd never gone through while she was alive. The faded poster had had a tree with a swing in the background, and two fey young men locked in each others arms on a pile of cushions in a stone pergola... The Secret Of The Roses, that had been the title, flowing calligraphy across the top of the picture. This was getting too wierd. As if she knew what he was thinking, Sachiko said, "Yes, it must seem strange to you. And I can't explain any of it - not in ways you'd understand or accept. But you've set me free, Ju-chan. I can go on to the most wonderful things now you've forgiven me." "Good," was all he could say. If this was a dream or an illusion it was the best he'd ever had. "No illusion," she said, "and you'll have no more nightmares about me now. You should think about forgiving Melissa, you know. What I did to you was a lot worse." "Yes, but at least with you I had options." "Not really. Neither of us had options then. The good thing now is that we've put all that behind us." She stood up, pulling on her yukata, pushing the cushions aside with her foot until she found the belt. "I've got to go now, Ju-chan. Oh, but I had a message to give you." "Message? From whom?" "I don't know her but she says she used to know you in school. She says you called her Kiku-chan and to tell you she's sorry she stood you up. Mean anything, anata?" She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, love. See you later." "She... Sachi-chan, wait!" But she had already vanished through the mist at the far side of the garden. He leapt to his feet and raced after her; as he got closer he could see a huge stone wall. It was solid. There was no sign of a gate. ---***--- Kiku-chan... he'd been thirteen years old, new in high school, desperate to keep up with the work; he'd always known that the only way he could ever escape his family was by clawing out some kind of career that would demand long hours and pay reasonable money, and that meant scholarships and a halfway decent university, or good references and passing the entrance exams for public service. The trouble was that there were always the kids - a gaggle of little brothers and sisters, snotnosed, whining, smelly, to be carted everywhere he went. It was a relief to go into school every morning because there at least he was on his own; it was purgatory to walk to the gates every night where they'd be waiting, needing elder brother to get them home, washed and fed. Homework was done on the way home, in parks and playgrounds where they could occupy themselves for a few hours if it wasn't too rainy, in public buildings and shopping malls if it was. One particularly trying night coming up to end of term exams, he'd been sitting on a bench in a playground between school and home, trying to finish a math paper while the baby grizzled for attention and his four-year-old brother scribbled all over his kindergarten storybook. He was at the end of his tether when she arrived, the girl he'd seen and secretly lusted after at assembly every morning. A year older than him, and from a good family, Harumi Honda wasn't a particularly pretty girl or one of the school idols, but to him she seemed perfect - quiet, gentle, soft-voiced, always beautifully turned out, and always kind. She had given him directions to one of his classes when he got lost on the first day, and she always smiled at him when they passed in the corridor. "Are you babysitting again tonight, Hasegawa-kun?" "Yes, Honda-sempai, my parents are - out at work." She would know that wasn't strictly true, of course, but it was generally accepted from way back in Japan's history that if everyone told the strict truth at all times life would be unbearable. Polite fictions kept society running and preserved some shreds of dignity for those in impossible circumstances. Like him, right now. "Sorry, I can't talk, I have to finish this paper." "I'm not in a hurry. Why don't I amuse the little ones while you finish off, then I can help you walk them home? This poppet looks as if he might not be too big to be carried home yet." She bestowed a look of great affection on his artistic little brother. Hasegawa was dumbfounded. "Would you? That would be so kind." "Not at all. I don't have any brothers or sisters, so it would be my pleasure." "Pleasure? You don't know how lucky you are, Honda-sempai!" "Oh no, I love children. May I pick the baby up? Whats her name? Why don't I move us down to the next bench so you have room to spread out your books?" And somehow, the baby stopped grizzling in her arms and Akira sat by her side while she read his storybook aloud, and Chieko and Tomi came from the swings to sit at her feet and chatter, while he sat quietly working, in his own space, until the paper was finished. And when he put his books away she didn't go, but sat with him in the early summer dusk until the first streetlights came on, then looked up, her face bleached by the neon, and said, "Oh my, I've kept you all chattering, so sorry. I must help you get them home - see, poor Akira-chan is almost asleep!" And as they walked along the street, Akira in her arms, him pushing the buggy with Chieko in it holding the baby, both asleep, and Tomi standing on the back axle hanging onto the handle, she asked "Are you going to the end-of-term dance, Hasegawa-kun?" And because he liked her, and somehow trusted her, he told the truth. "I want to, but I don't have a partner, and there are the kids." "I don't have a partner either, but my parents have bought two tickets and they're really hassling me to go. They have this thing about me getting out and socialising because I'm an only child." She hesitated. "If you didn't mind, it would save a lot of embarassment for me if you'd be my partner. We could take the little ones along, a couple of the girls in my class are doing that with younger brothers and sisters. They'd be good, I'm sure. You really would be doing me a big favour." And the kids will never let me forget it. And mother will want to know if I'm screwing you, and beat the crap out of me, and then ask what the prospects for a good marriage are. And you've saved my life tonight and been kinder than anyone's ever been. And I think I love you. "I'd have to ask at home." "Well, let me know tomorrow, if you can. Please think about it." She stopped at the bottom of the stairs up to his flat. "I'll see you then, Hasegawa-kun. Good night." As he wiped the kids clean and put them to bed his heart was doing an unbelievable dance inside his chest. His parents still hadn't come home when he fell asleep, wondering how he could possibly work it so they'd say yes and the consequences wouldn't be too awful, knowing that somehow they'd find a way to beat him with it but not caring. Maybe he just wouldn't tell them. If he accepted, they wouldn't make him back out then because it would be insulting to a family of the standing of the Hondas. He'd pay for it, but what the hell, it would be worth it. That night he had the most vivid and detailed wet dream he'd experienced in all his thirteen years, and by the time he woke up he knew that whatever happened he was going to say yes, and whatever happened he wasn't going to call her Harumi. That was everyone else's name for her. She was so special to him, he had a special name to give her. Her thick, curving halo of bronze-brown hair reminded him of those big, beautiful autumn chrysanthemums in expensive florists' windows. She would be Kiku to him. Kiku-chan. He'd call her that at the dance. Only she never came to the dance. She wasn't in assembly that morning, and at lunchtime as he was scanning the playground the bell rang to call the whole school into the hall and the headteacher announced that Harumi Honda and her father had been killed in a terrible car accident as he was driving her to school. He had gone through the next weeks on autopilot, but gradually the pain had faded and he'd been able to risk thinking about her at night, when he was alone. And then more time had passed and he'd almost forgotten her, and he'd never told anyone - not even her - that she was his chrysanthemum princess. ---***--- Walking slowly back past the swing, he picked up his fundoshi from the grass and began, mechanically, to re-wind it round his sticky, sweaty groin. He needed a shower. His yukata was crumpled on the grass and he wrapped it just as absently, fastened the tie belt, then saw a streak of pale blue amid the green and picked up the ribbon from Sachiko's hair. Smiling, he tucked it inside the yukata, silky against his bare skin. If this was all an illusion it had still been one of the best fucks of his life, and the only one in which he and Sachiko had ever managed to enjoy themselves without so much as breaking skin. He walked back to the door and stood on the threshold, half inside Sachiko's dream garden, half in the garden of the Summer Palace. Nyan-chan was slumped against the treetrunk, eyes closed. He knelt at her side and said, not quite sure if it was the right thing, "I'm back. You can close your door now." She sat up without opening her eyes, and the space in the air closed. There was nothing there but grass and air, the shadows lengthening across the quiet garden. Nyan-chan half-opened her eyes and said, "Hasegawa-san, do you think you could get someone to carry me indoors?" Then closed them again and leaned back against the tree. He slipped one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her. Small as she was, she seemed to weigh more than Sachiko had as he started across the grass towards the garden hall. Suddenly she jerked awake and twisted out of his arms, grabbing the collar of his yukata and ripping it open as her feet hit the ground. Sachiko's blue ribbon fell out, twisting slowly on the air; now it glowed, the blue turning to white. Aijo was on her feet, racing down the steps of the hall, and there seemed to be a lot of people running towards them all of a sudden. He saw Kazeko and the greyhaired European woman from the dojo heading for them, yelling to get down. Behind him he could hear a sound like hundreds of thousands of very angry bees, and the air was heavy and electric, as if a storm was about to break. Nyan-chan, her hair standing on end around her like a huge halo and her whole body glowing with a golden light that was fiercest and strongest in her molten eyes, grabbed the ribbon as it fell, pulled it straight, yelled some words he couldn't understand and flung it, rigid as a lance, over his shoulder and into - something - behind him. There was a noise like a huge glass sheet breaking under a bolt of lightning, a roaring gust of wind, a sound like thunder, and Nyan-chan collapsed at his feet. "You stupid fucker!" yelled the European woman. "Don't you know you should never bring anything out of the deadland?" "I - don't -" He turned. Behind him a huge, black patch disfigured the perfect grass and little sparks of flame were dying away all over it, like fireflies in darkness. In the centre of the burnt area was a crater of bare, scorched earth, about five feet across. The air over it was shimmering as if in the aftermath of an explosion. Some of the smaller branches on the great tree were charred. The far wall of the garden was pocked with what looked like shell impact marks. "What was that?" Melissa Kotonoi stood beside him, flanked by a couple more beefy servants, but there was nothing but sympathy on her face. "You don't want to know," she said. "It was able to get out of its own world because you brought something back with you, and so the door wouldn't quite close. Luckily it was greedy and came at you right away. If it had been one of the clever ones and waited until we were all asleep..." She stopped, her mouth set in a hard line; it was the first time Hasegawa had seen her look scared, and that scared him, more than anything else that had happened. It also gave him a warm, nasty glow. So now you know what its like not to be in control of everything, bitch. "It might have been better if it had waited." Aijo's face was stricken. "We would have been able to deal with it without - attracting attention. Get the Princess to her rooms. Who's the duty healer? Gita, will you make sure the shields are OK and get the standby shift on line?" "What do you mean?" he asked. She ignored him, or didn't hear him, hurrying off beside the man who was carrying her daughter. The greyhaired woman was off too, and Kazeko vanished into the palace. Only Melissa and her guards were left, so he was forced to ask her "What's all this about? Whose attention? And don't tell me I don't want to know that either!" Melissa sat on the steps of the garden hall, looking up at him, still pale but worried rather than scared now. "You let - something - through the gate, right? Well, that doesn't often happen, but we could have coped with it if Nyan-chan hadn't reacted on pure instinct. She felt the ribbon, or sensed it, as you were carrying her. She was half asleep and bone tired. Now, tell me, kacho, if you or one of your men are in that situation and you wake to an immediate threat to you and innocent civilian bystanders, what happens?" "You - hit out as hard and fast as you can," he said slowly. "Eliminate the immediate danger and worry about consequences later." "Exactly. Thats what she did. She could see what was behind you and knew instantly that she had to stop it, or it would take you and then come for her and the rest of us. She didn't have time to plan or calculate, and she's too inexperienced to have anv real control in a panic situation. She just hit out with everything she had left. If it wasn't for the level of magical shields around this place it would look like a warzone after everyone had finished. For what was a nasty but really very minor demon, she put out enough power to fry an army. And anyone out - there - anywhere - in this line of business will be able to read the shockwaves and know that something more powerful than anyone ever dreamed is located right here." Her eyes never left Hasegawa's face. "Trying to save you, she may have led whatever's stalking her right to her." "Oh fuck." "Oh, yes." The ghost of the evil little smile he'd seen on her face in his room earlier that day crept back. "You don't have a choice any more, Hasegawa-san. It's giri. You have to help Aijo-sama find your lost hound because if you don't, the darkness will find Nyan-chan, and all because she took you to heaven then saved you from hell." ---***--- The mountain air hung clear and pure around them. The temple was hidden in the woods on the side of a great mountain, over an hours hard walking from the Summer Palace. He and the guards and the Ladies of the Household - including several he hadn't met, but not Melissa and the woman Gita - were all there, dressed in mediaeval robes of rough-woven white raw silk. There was a picture of Sachiko on the altar, and yellow-robed priests chanting sutras. The dawn was breaking as they finished and the Shinto lot took over. Sachiko, he thought. Sachi-chan, was it you? Did we meet? Was it all a dream or an illusion? And if so, what came up behind me in the garden? I'm a cop. I have to believe the evidence. Nyan-chan threw a piece of ribbon over my shoulder and it made a five-foot blast crater. Whatever I think about magic, I can't refuse to acknowledge that. The girl was kneeling beside him, chanting with the priests, recovered from the previous day's lunacies with all the resilience of youth. Is something really coming out of the mythical dark for you? The gaijin bitch is right. I have to do whatever I can to help you now, whether I believe this story or not. Whether it was real or not, though, I think I understand you a little better now, Sachi-chan. I hope it was true. I hope you really have found peace. The Secret Of The Roses - what the hell does that mean? In his mind her voice spoke, and he knew she was smiling. "It means that the thorns are a price worth paying for so much beauty. No matter how they cut and wound you, the roses are worth the pain." A tear slid down Hasegawa's cheek. Just one, and for once he didn't mind it. He was, after all, mourning his wife. ---***--- "Don't keep me in suspense, oniisama. Please - did you wipe his memory?" "Yes, we did. We need about three weeks to prepare for the rituals and even though I think Hasegawa-kacho will do nothing to harm us, we couldn't risk his saying something in that period. Chemical methods are so crude, but until his mind's been properly prepared we couldn't put in spiritual blocks without doing serious damage. Still, I don't want to have to do this again." She looked sharply at Melissa, sitting beside her in the luxurious passenger compartment of the spinner. "You can't treat a human brain like a wipe-board without incurring some consequences, Mel-chan. If you can't mend your fences with him now, there's no more I can do for you." "I know, oniisama, and I'm grateful. I'll do my best not to screw up this time." "Good luck." ---***--- "Hasegawa-kacho! You're back! We've missed you!" Miss Junichi hurried round her desk to take his coat and hang it on the rack. "How was it? How did the ceremony go?" "All very proper and formal, thank you." He picked up the unopened mail from her desk, slid the pile of opened letters under it. "Everything quiet here?" "Sengoku got that gang of pushers last night, Gogol thinks he has a line on the Russian case in those old files. The Commissioner is calling round at twelve. Coffee?" "Please. And no calls. I want to get back up to speed, but I suppose we'd better clear these first, so bring a coffee in for yourself." Hasegawa knew his secretary. She'd want to hear all the gossip on the Palace, what the rooms were like, the flower arrangements, what the Ladies of the Household were wearing at home, but she was too well-brought-up to ask. If he didn't tell her right away, while they worked through the mail, she wouldn't have any snippets to drop discreetly into the conversation in the ladies' room at lunchtime, and her boss's great good fortune in finding favour with the Imperial Family would do nothing to increase her standing with the other secretaries. She had to know before he saw the Commissioner because the old boy would pump him for gossip, then tell his own secretary. If Junichi hadn't gone public with some minor dirt before the Commissioner left, it would show he didn't trust her and value her discretion. It was a matter of face. He sat down, slitting open the first envelope marked "Confidential". Nice writing, clear and bold; a woman's name at the end. Archivist and Senior Consultant Subject Librarian, Oedo City University Library. Wanting to talk to him about some research project or other. Wondering if she might take him out to dinner so as not to intrude on his time in the office. Maybe I'll get lucky, he thought; then he paused, baffled at his own levity, wondering why the name Melissa Kotowani seemed somehow familiar... "Here you are, sir." Miss Junichi put the steaming mug down on the desk by his right hand and sat opposite, her own delicate china cup in front of her, notebook at the ready. "I must say, the break seems to have done you good. You look very well." "I feel better than I have for ages, Junichi-chan", he said; then, as she flushed with pleasure at the unusual, teasing endearment, he wondered for an instant why he'd done that and why he really did feel so much better, before starting work on the pile of unanswered mail.