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Tooyama Yasuhide barely managed to relay the address Kagetora had given him to the driver before hunching over himself, shivering. (He knows.) Of Tooyama’s old betrayal. Even of his resurrection into this time. Every one of Kagetora’s words from the mirror had been knife blades striking into his flesh. The past, no longer quietly laid to rest, rose up to attack him mercilessly. How he wanted to disappear from this place! When he alone had escaped from Samegao castle four hundred years ago, his guilt for his betrayal, for trying to guarantee his own safety, had not cut into him so deeply as this. Now it flayed him. (There was nothing else I could do. I was going to die. I didn’t want to die. I had no other choice,) he justified desperately. But before the reality of Kagetora’s righteous hatred, his excuses no longer had any power of conviction. «I will not forgive you—...!!» The bottomless loathing in his eyes added: My hatred for you is without end. I will send you to h.e.l.l with my own hands. (I...I...Lord Saburou...) He had felt a terror beyond anything he had ever known before. Kagetora would never forgive him. His old master would rebound upon him all the pain he had caused many times over—of that he was sure. In Kagetora’s grasp, he would be torn limb from limb, tortured to his death. (Why couldn’t he have just gone to the next world?) Tooyama thought resentfully. (Why couldn’t he just stay dead?) He looked up, glaring, and saw himself directly reflected in the rear-view mirror. He started badly when Kagetora’s image appeared beside him. “I-I didn’t mean it!” he gasped, gulping back his scream. He clutched at his head. “I wouldn’t even dare think it! Please believe me!” “Mister? Hey...” “Aaaah! I didn’t! Please forgive me!” The driver shot him a freaked look, likely wondering if he was lugging around a lunatic. Tooyama didn’t lift his head again. (I...I can’t escape...) He curled into a ball on the back seat and lay there shivering until he arrived. His arrival characterized somewhat more by ‘tossed out’ than ‘alighted,’ a haggard Tooyama stood in front of Asaoka Inn at Lake Chuuzenji. The taxi sped away. The night was silent but for the faint sound of waves. In the darkness, the faint ridges of Mt. Nantai could be seen in the distance. “Aaaah...” Tooyama sank to the ground in exhaustion. Ayako, who had heard the car, came hurrying from the entrance a moment later. “Y-you!” “...!” Tooyama lifted his head. “You’re Tooyama Yasuhide, aren’t you?” Ayako looked down at him irascibly. “You are mayhap...Kakizaki-dono...?” “Mayhap? Mayhap?! Yes, I am Kakizaki! You’ve got some nerve showing your face around here, you shameless traitor! How dare you come crawling back after abandoning your lord and running off by yourself, you filthy disgrace of a samurai!” Tooyama only stiffened. Beside her, Chiaki said soothingly, “Enough already. He looks like a deer in the headlights. It’s been a while, man.” Tooyama’s gaze shifted to Chiaki, but there was no recognition in it. “What, you can’t even be bothered to remember your former colleagues? It’s Yasuda, Yasuda Nagahide. You don’t have to look so terrified. Relax, you idiot, I’m not gonna murder you. Everyone on Kagekatsu’s side’s in h.e.l.l now, anyway.” “S-so it’s Yasuda-dono.” “Guess Kagetora threatened...or uh, commanded you to come here, huh? And you’re gonna help us?” Chiaki said, eyes flashing. “So now you’re betraying the Houjou?” “No! I...I...!” Tooyama attempted to deny, when Kagetora’s cruel expression resurfaced in the back of his mind, and he shivered as a chill skittered down his spine. “I...I...yes...” “Is that so. Why don’t you tell us, then: what is the Houjou scheming? Were you the ones who kidnapped Narita Yuzuru?” “...!” “Where is the male Tsutsuga Mirror? Kagetora commanded you to get its location from your master, didn’t he? You’re gonna be our spy.” Tooyama glared back at them, trembling with with dread and resentment. “You say no to us, and Kagetora’s never gonna let you go. He’s got a vindictive streak, and he’ll hound you to the ends of h.e.l.l.” “...” “So why don’t you start talking?” He could hear the murmur of a small stream from the barred windows. Held captive in a room somewhere on the Houjou estate, Narita Yuzuru sat on the bed listlessly, concentrating on the sound. (Where the heck am I anyway?) He sighed, looking at the sky outside the window. (Takaya...) He hadn’t seen Takaya since Toshima Amus.e.m.e.nt Park. What had happened to him in that time? “‘Takaya’ has disappeared—he is wholly ‘Kagetora’ once more...” “He will fight for us as a warrior of the Houjou.” (He’s lying, isn’t he?) Yuzuru asked Takaya silently. (Have you really forgotten me?) Takaya would never set him up like this. ...Once upon a time he would have believed that absolutely, but doubt had taken root in his mind—doubt planted by the widening distance between them. There were times when Takaya looked at him as coldly as if he were a stranger, when he spoke and acted with an arrogance that seemed designed to intimidate everyone around him. Then he would oscillate as quickly back to his normal crude, awkward, unvarnished self. His instability caused Yuzuru much anxiety. (Which is the real you?) Doubt circled Yuzuru’s disquieted mind. (Is it ‘Kagetora’?) That couldn’t be. ‘Takaya’ was his true self. Yuzuru wanted to be believe that. Ujimasa’s claims were nothing but a pack of lies. Weren’t they? (I don’t care anymore—I just want to see you, Takaya!) Yuzuru cried out desperately in the silence of his mind, holding back tears. That was when— Yuzuru, a voice said, and he reflexively lifted his head. “Who’s there? Who called my name just now?!” He circled the room, searching. He had heard Takaya’s voice—he was sure of it. “Takaya! Are you here?!” There it was again—behind him! He whirled. Takaya stood within the mirror hanging on the wall above the ornamental fireplace. “Taka...ya...?” Yuzuru stared. That’s impossible, he thought, backing away. It just wasn’t possible. Takaya was in the mirror: in the mirror and nowhere else. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, then repeated the motions. The image of Takaya remained. He could see Takaya so clearly! “Takaya! Why...!” Yuzuru beseeched his silent friend. “Why are you in there?! What happened?! Takaya, you...!” Yuzuru cried, beginning to panic. “Is it this mirror? Are you in this mirror? What did they do to you? Who did this?!” A look of anguish crossed Takaya’s face. “Are you really in there? What should I do? Are you trapped?” Yuzuru clutched desperately at the mirror. “What should I do?! How do I get out of here? How do I get to you? Tell me, Takaya! Did the Houjou do this to you?” “Why are you shouting?” He started and jerked away from the mirror as Date Kojirou entered the room. “Who were you talking to?” “...” Yuzuru stepped in front of the mirror to face Kojirou squarely. Kojirou chuckled softly. “We will begin preparations for the manifestation of your powers now.” “What?” “You can simply go quietly go to sleep; we’ll take care of the rest. Mori-dono.” Mori? he thought, looking toward the door as a young man who had apparently been waiting outside entered. He knew this face: hazel eyes so light they were nearly gold; hair fine as silk thread; red lips curved in a gratingly alluring smile. “! —Hatayama...!” “It’s been a while, Narita-senpai.” Before him stood Hatayama Satoshi, AKA Mori Ranmaru: he who held the «power» of the Oda, who commanded the Oda onshou, who was said to be n.o.bunaga’s right arm. “What are you doing here?” “Is that all you have to say to me after all this time, Narita-senpai? I never imagined I might encounter such dazzling power as you displayed in Sendai. I wanted you more than ever after seeing the glorious sight of the Wisdom Kings raging in the night sky above Sendai.” Yuzuru glared fiercely at Ranmaru. “You have no right to call me ‘senpai.’” “You are far too modest. In any case, you belong to me now. Just sit back quietly. I will extract that fearsome power from within you. Is that not a cause for rejoicing, Senpai?” he smiled at Yuzuru darkly, and Yuzuru shivered. “I don’t really know what you’re all talking about, but...” “Good. All we need is your power. ...Kojirou-dono.” Kojirou nimbly intercepted Yuzuru’s dash, pinioning him before he could reach the door. Yuzuru struggled, but Kojirou’s slenderness belied a surprising strength, and Yuzuru couldn’t get free. “Look into my eyes.” Ranmaru tilted Yuzuru’s chin up and met Yuzuru’s defiant glare. “You can see the flames flickering there, can’t you?” “...” Strange, Yuzuru thought. He felt dizzy, as if Ranmaru’s eyes were pulling him in. He could see the flames. They were purple, eerie and beautiful. “Can you hear it...?” Ranmaru whispered, sounding as if he were far away. “The voices of the people...telling you to awaken...” He could hear a babble of voices deep in his ears. Were they singing? No, it was not a song. It gradually drew closer. A crowd chanting. ...An incantation—shingon...? Yuzuru’s awareness separated from the real world little by little. A languorous, honeyed warmth enfolded him, and all the strength left his body. He fell into a half-hypnotized state. “...Yes. Entrust your consciousness to me,” Ranmaru murmured, smiling faintly. “Be calm. Quiet. Release that evil power within you—now.” At the same moment, Ujimasa suddenly felt the presence of another person in his chambers. “Who’s there?” He looked around the room, but saw no one. Ascribing it to his imagination, he reached for the closet door for a change of clothing. His hand dropped at the sight of the door mirror. “...” Ujimasa returned Takaya’s gaze, perfectly composed. “... What is the meaning of this, Saburou?” Ujimasa recognized his younger brother, though his features belonged to a stranger. Takaya—Saburou Kagetora gazed at him in silence. “Have you come to offer greetings to your older brother?” Takaya’s face was expressionless as his cold eyes stared unwaveringly at Ujimasa. Ujimasa, eldest of the Houjou siblings, was unmoved. This was the first time they had laid eyes on each other in four hundred years, but Ujimasa, unlike Ujiteru, felt no overwhelming sentiment. He betrayed no emotion at all. “You are a Houjou, and you must serve your duty to the clan. You understand that, don’t you, Saburou?” Ujimasa exposited calmly. “That is your fate. You are one of us and always will be: to your death—no, even beyond death. You can never be Uesugi, not completely. We are your family. Your blood. You cannot abandon your own blood.” «...» “You are my cherished and beloved brother. Let us win this country together. Join us. We will conquer the Sengoku with Father to lead us. Come, Saburou.” Crack. A single long fissure appeared in the mirror with an odd sound. Ujimasa’s eyes widened in surprise. More lines fractured his reflection a split-second later. Crack crack crack. “!” The mirror shattered completely with a loud crash, and the shards flew towards Ujimasa. “Guh...!” He instantly shielded himself. His aide dashed into the room at the commotion. “Are you all right, Tono?! Ah...Tono!” His expression changed as he rushed over to Ujimasa. Broken gla.s.s shards large and small lay scattered on the carpet around him. Ujimasa glared at the shattered mirror, panting. “Tono! Are you hurt?” “—No. I am fine,” he responded, wiping a hand across the blood on his cheek where a fragment had grazed him. (d.a.m.n you, Saburou!)