A/N: Finally got this one finished. This chapter didn't turn out quite as I expected, being more introspective than normal. Consider it my 'Deep Thoughts' chapter. However, I did enjoy getting to use characters that don't get featured much (coughTsukuyomicough). And a little more of Negi's past is revealed.
"Negima", its characters and the Aoyama sisters are all owned by Ken Akamatsu. I have an ever expanding roster of OCs and that probably indicates that I have way too much time on my hands.
The following conventions are use: "words", 'thoughts', "spells", 'reading', and memories
Mirror's Reflection
Sometimes I would give anything just to be something more than nothing – Montague, Richards, DeWolf, Lipscomb
Kyoto Japan
A tree-lined path led up the hill and the sound of heels clicking on paving stones echoed off the low walls on either side of the walkway. The little group walked into a lighted courtyard and Phillip could see the entry gate to the temple ahead.
He let out a low whistle of appreciation. "This is your home Konoka-san?"
"Yes," she answered, grinning as the great doors swung towards them.
A score of robed women lined the walkway inside the temple grounds. As one they bowed and greeted the heir of the Kansai Magic Association. "Welcome home Konoka-ojou-sama."
"Does this happen every time?" Phillip whispered.
"Every time," Asuna muttered in response.
The American looked about and noted all of the welcoming women were young and beautiful. 'Don't they have any old shrine maidens?' he wondered. 'Maybe there's a mandatory retirement age?' The picture of middle-aged women dressed in red and white robes standing in the unemployment line came to him. It was followed by an image of those same women looking in horror as crystals embedded in their palms flashed red then black.
A man wearing a tall headpiece led the group into what Phillip would have called the great hall. After removing their shoes, they were escorted to mats near the bottom of a stairway. Robed priestesses knelt on either side of the hall while bow-armed guards flanked the stairs. Following his companion's example, the man knelt on a mat. Even the ermine had a scaled-down mat in place for him.
"You okay?" Chamo whispered.
"I'm fine," he answered. "Other than feeling like I stepped into a scene from Madame Butterfly."
"I was thinking the Mikado myself," the ermine replied. "But then I'm partial to Gilbert and Sullivan."
A couple garbed in ceremonial robes, appeared at the head of the stairs. The man appeared to be in his forties. His hair was cropped short and a pair of black rimmed glasses was perched on his nose. The woman accompanying him had to be at least twenty years younger. She wore her red hair short and moved hesitantly as if unsure of herself. The teacher thought the man might be Konoka's father, but his companion seemed too young to be his student's mother.
"Welcome honored guests," the head of the Kansai Magic Association told them. "Your journey has been long and you are no doubt tired, but we have much to discuss. Refreshments have been prepared. Please accept our hospitality."
They followed their hosts into another room where a food laden table waited. As they ate, several of the mikos engaged Phillip's students while others surrounded his fellow teacher. Negi's head turned from one side to the other as the women peppered him with questions.
"Mister Markham," Eishun said. "Do you have a moment?"
"Certainly."
The girl with the short, red hair was still by the other man's side. "I'd like to speak with you in private," the swordsman told him. "Would you mind coming this way?"
They stepped into a side room and the girl closed the screen behind them. "What did you want to talk about?" the teacher asked.
"Mister Markham, you were invited to teach at Mahora this year at my request," Eishun said.
"Yukimi-san," here the man pointed to the shrine maiden, who bowed in acknowledgement, "had a vision that indicated you would be of help during this impending crisis."
Phillip listened without comment as his host continued. "I don't pretend to know how you will, but I trust Yukimi-san. With your cooperation, I'd like to see if we can prompt another vision."
"What do I need to do?"
"She will need to be in physical contact with you."
"And that's all?" he asked. At the other man's nod, Phillip agreed.
Yukimi stepped in front of him and grasped his hands. "Place your forehead against hers Mister Markham," the Kansai leader instructed.
The pale skin of her hands and brow felt cool against his skin. Phillip could feel the woman tremble and wondered if she was afraid of him. The room grew dark then bright like the changing of the set during a play.
The teacher looked upon a hospital room. With a start, he recognized Konoka sitting up on the bed and nursing a newborn. His student had grown into a young woman as had Setsuna who sat next to her friend and smiled at the scene before her. All went dim and then brightened to show an older Konoka, with streaks of grey in her hair, sitting by the bed and watching another mother and child. Phillip noticed a resemblance between his older student and the new mother. Setsuna, seemingly untouched by the years, waited at her partner's shoulder, with her mouth in a faint smile. Again the image shifted as an even older Konoka waited by the bedside of another mother and child, looking as happy as a proud grandmother. Her partner, her hair now a dazzling white but otherwise showing few signs of the advancing years, still stood next to her. However, Setsuna's face had settled into hard, inflexible lines, void of emotion.
The hospital room faded away to be replaced by a garden with an artificial stream meandering through it. Two people, a white-haired boy and a dark-haired woman perhaps ten years older, sat on wrought iron chairs and sipped from china cups. Although Phillip couldn't hear a thing, they seemed to be casually conversing with one another over tea. In the center of the garden rested a very detailed sculpture of a girl. As a swallow perched on the statue's shoulder began to peck at a cheek, the teacher recognized Asuna's features, captured in an expression of dismay, carved into the stone.
In an instant, the garden was gone and he looked upon the darkened area outside the high school's gymnasium. Under the moon's illumination, he saw Madoka sitting on the ground, and though he heard no sound, the teacher could tell she was weeping piteously. Cradled in his student's arms was the mangled body of her friend, Misa. Another body, torn and bloody, lay nearby. Though it was face down, Phillip saw orange-red hair in the dim light.
Bile filled his mouth as a wave of nausea threatened to break over him. Mercifully, the image was cut short, only to be replaced by a stranger one yet. Green, rolling hills spread out in all directions underneath a clear, blue sky. The air shimmered and rippled as a black cloud stretched across the horizon. Drawing across the land, the cloud changed the appearance of the sun, first turning it orange and then fiery red. Grasses turned instantly into a fine, black powder that spiraled heavenward adding to the clouds of ash. Before his world went dark once more, Phillip saw the sun, bloated huge beyond belief, leer down like a malevolent eye.
He felt something cool and wet against his forehead. Opening his eyes, Phillip found Konoka's concerned face hovering above him. Thankfully, it was his student applying the towel instead of one of the older women from the vision.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Daddy said you fainted," Konoka replied as he started to sit up. She quickly put an arm behind his back.
"Not so fast sensei," the girl cautioned. "You've been unconscious for the past six hours."
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
"The shihan of the shinmei ryu are meeting this morning," Konoka answered. "Se-chan must either formally accept the challenge or admit guilt. Asuna and Negi-kun are with her."
"I need to talk to that woman," Phillip said.
"What woman is that sensei?"
"The shrine maiden with the short, red hair," the teacher replied. "Yukimi-san I think your father said her name was."
"I don't remember her," Konoka remarked. "Did daddy take you to her?"
"She walked into the main hall with him last night," he answered. "She was never more than an arm's length from Konoe-san the whole evening."
Konoka gazed closely at her teacher, her concern deepening. "No one was with my father," she said, "from the time he arrived until he left with you sensei."
--
Dampness soaked through the thin fabric of her blouse as she drew into a tighter circle underneath the blazer. 'I should have gone with Negi,' Anya thought. A night spent on the ground left her cold, sore and thoroughly miserable.
Opening her eyes, the pre-teen noted faint, grey steaks rising above the ridge of hills. Abandoning the pretense of sleeping, the girl sat up and stretched her arms. Muscles, stiff and chilled, protested the movement, but Anya ignored them. Slowly, she stood, brushing off clumps of grass and dirt that adhered to the Mahora school uniform. Once on her feet, the young girl approached a ring of stones encircling a small fire.
The tall, bearded man, now dressed in a mage's hooded robe, sat nearby. Bits of meat roasted over the fire. As he picked up one of the skewers, the smell reached Anya, causing the girl's stomach to growl loudly in response. The corners of the man's mouth lifted in a slight smirk as he held the meat out to her. "Hungry?"
"Here, have some," he offered when confronted by Anya's dubious stare. "Go ahead, it's good."
"So how many drachmas will this be?" she asked, recalling how much his aid cost three of Negi's students.
His smirk grew broader at her question. "As many as I paid for it, and not an asu more."
Her stomach continued to grumble as hunger overcame suspicion. She tore off a chunk and chewed while juices ran down her chin. "This is good," she declared between bites. "What is it?"
"I told you it would be," her companion replied. "You remember those rabbits we saw last night?"
Anya glared at him as images of little, black and white bunnies hopped around in her mind. The meat no longer tasted as good but her stomach complained as appetite overcame cute and cuddly. In silence the young girl finished her breakfast.
After kicking dirt over the remains of the fire, the robed figure began walking north, further into the hills. Last night, outside the train station, Dolnegus had said she needed to follow her instincts. Taking him up his advice, the young mage had tailed the slaver into the hills east of the city.
"Why are you following me?" he had asked.
"Like you," the girl replied, "a number of people I care about are dependent on that boy's well being."
Now Anya had to choose again: go to where Negi and her classmates were, or follow this man on no more than hunch. 'You're an idiot,' she scolded herself. 'Negi needs to be warned.' But youngster couldn't shake the feeling that this was vital too. Uttering an unladylike phrase, she jogged to catch up to her companion.
The morning quietly slipped away as the pair continued to hike away from Kyoto, away from Negi. Dolnegus crested a rise and stopped, letting Anya catch up to him. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"It's been a long time since I was last here," he said with a touch of sorrow in his voice.
"That's Mount Hiei," the man said as he pointed out the summit that towered over the surrounding hills. "Come along then."
The meadow was empty save for the grasses that reached halfway to her knees. The robed figure marched steadily forward, about 5 meters in front of her. Suddenly he vanished from her sight. Anya pulled her wand out and chanted a spell of detection. It revealed the presence of a glamour straight ahead. Picking up a pebble, she tossed it at the point where Dolnegus disappeared and it too vanished.
She hurried forward and felt a tingle while passing through the magic's boundary. The grassy field was no longer empty as Anya beheld the wreckage of a small cottage. A single post, its blackened end thrusting skyward, still stood but everything else had been reduced to piles of rubble. The shattered stones and timbers were slowly being reclaimed by vegetation and the young mage wondered how long this had been a ruin. Five years? Ten years? And why did this place interest the man from the Magic World?
A garden plot about 4 meters square, lay behind the remains of the cottage; enclosed by a wall, short enough that the girl could easily step over. Dolnegus knelt among the weeds and wildflowers, clearing the plants from in front of a marble headstone. Inscribed into its smooth surface was a single name 'Gwyneth Springfield'.
'Negi's aunt! Nekane's mother!' Anya thought as she pulled her wand out and leveled it at the man defiling the grave. Anger took hold as she shouted, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Pulling weeds," Dolnegus calmly replied, continuing with his self-imposed task. "It would be a pity to damage her grave site, especially since she died saving your little friend Negi's life."
"What?" she cried out as rage became shock. "How would you know?"
"The story was never a secret," the man answered. "Why wouldn't I?"
Anya lowered the wand still clenched in her fist, watching as another tuft of grass was pulled from the soft earth and tossed aside. He continued to speak as he worked.
"For whatever reason, Gwyneth Springfield left Wales shortly after her brother-in-law Nagi and his new bride, Anna, arrived in the village," Dolnegus told her. "I can only speculate but perhaps she felt trapped, wasting away in her tidy, little home while others were out saving the world. Ever the hero, Nagi vowed to find her, and eventually he did."
"Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't …" his voice trailed off. Anya kept silent, waiting for Dolnegus to continue.
"Gwyneth settled in this little cottage, within sight of Mount Hiei," he finally said, "close to Kyoto where Nagi had his home. Anna and Gwyneth had been friends since their days at Meldiana, and the soon-to-be-mother visited whenever her husband was out of town."
"One day, an enemy of the Crimson Wing discovered this hidden place and set an ambush. When next Anna arrived, this time in her mother's company, they were besieged by demons."
He paused again and when the older mage spoke, Anya could hear an edge of grief in his words. "No one tells any heroic tales about this battle, how three women desperately fought to save the life of one unborn. No poet immortalized a mother dying to protect her daughter, or the friend who perished as she slew the last demon. No movie was made to commemorate a young woman's struggles, though grievously injured, to live long enough to give birth to her son."
His hands were shaking so much, Dolnegus had to stop with his labor. "No epic battle that, worthy of remembering," he said in a voice that cracked. "Just like a forgotten grave in an out-of-the-way clearing."
'He's a slaver,' she reminded herself as she watched the man's emotions get the upper hand. 'He threatened you with a knife.'
But the raw pain Anya beheld recalled her own upon learning her village had been destroyed, her family and friends turned to stone. She had walked about in a daze afterwards, not quite believing what she had been told. Then Negi arrived at Meldiana and one look into his haggard face convinced her of the truth. Both had dissolved into tears as they clutched each other in their shared loss.
'Don't go feeling sorry for him,' the little mage willed herself as a sleeve hastily wiped the wetness from her eyes. 'He doesn't deserve it.'
Another memory rose ghost-like. "Why do we become Minister Magi," a much younger Anya had asked Nekane.
"To help other people," Negi's cousin replied, wearing her patented, guaranteed-to-brighten-the-gloomiest-day smile.
"But why?"
"The world has too much suffering," the older girl answered. "To take no action when you could help even the tiniest bit, is the worst thing you can do."
"Even worse than lying or stealing?" she had asked.
"A lie can be forgiven and what is stolen returned," Nekane pointed out. "Once pain touches you, it never really leaves."
How true those words were, Anya thought. Magic would never be able to solve the majority of life's problems, she knew, but spells weren't the only tools at a Magister Magi's disposal. There were no words of comfort to offer; instead the young mage knelt next to the grieving man. Her arms wrapped about him as tears streamed down both of their faces.
--
The great sword sliced effortlessly through the air and murmured only the softest of whispers in its passing. Turn, slash, block and thrust the pattern went; motions reinforced by years of constant practice. Move and counter-move repeated and refined until muscles could perform them without the need for conscious thought.
"Stop!" a stern voice commanded.
Arms locked in place and the nodachi's long blade wavered slightly in response. Setsuna held her pose and waited for further instructions. As a seven-year-old the novice shinmei ryu had been made to hold the sword out, as far as her reach would allow, until her arms burned with fatigue. Yet each day, she could hold it for a little longer. Today, the girl could hold the position for hours.
"You may relax," the voice informed her. "I have seen enough."
Aoyama Tsuruko, Grand Master of Shinmei Ryu, examined her with a critical eye. Nicknamed the Demon Blade of Kyoto, the woman was said to be the finest sword produced in the last generation. Of course, some omitted the word Blade when referring to Tsuruko, but never within earshot of the Soke. How different the Grand Master looked now, the hanyo thought, compared to this morning.
Aoyama-sama had sat in the hall, surrounded by over 50 masters, a number that represented the majority of the school's leadership. The woman had worn a solid white robe and appeared as cold and
forbidding as if cut from a glacier's face. In her hand was a crimson red fan that fluttered back and forth like a living thing. The color stood out starkly and reminded the girl of blood freshly spilled on a mantle of snow.
Setsuna had knelt facing the assembled shihans and answered the charges made against her. Kuzunoha-san, her instructor at Mahora, sat upon her left while Negi, Asuna and Chamo were seated behind. Several meters away, to Setsuna's right, sat her accuser and on Tsukuyomi's right was Aoyama Motoko, the woman who will one day inherit the Grand Master's position.
"Sakurazaki Setsuna," Tsuruko had said. "You have heard the charges made against you. What is your answer?"
At Konoka's urging, she had practiced her reply, but now that the moment had arrived, all of her words seemed trite. "Aoyama-sama and masters of the school, of the first charge I am guilty," she replied, heart thumping wildly in her chest. "I did accept the reward offered by the citizens of Nyandom for driving away a dragon terrorizing their town."
She glanced at the master's impassive faces. "I was separated from the others of my party and lacked the means to support myself and my companion."
"Of the second charge I am equally guilty," the swordswoman admitted. Behind her, Setsuna could hear Asuna's cough but her bell-wearing classmate remained silent otherwise. "With the danger my companions and I have faced over the past year, I thought of it as strengthening our chances of survival." Stoic faces continued to regard her. "I admit my errors and am ready to accept whatever punishment my actions have earned."
"As to the third charge, that of showing cowardice in battle, I deny it with my heart, my thought and my spirit!" the hanyo said emphatically. "Preserving the life I was entrusted to protect demanded I leave the battle at that time."
Setsuna felt she might as well have been speaking to the walls so emotionless her audience remained. However, she continued to plead her case. "Had I not left, Konoka-ojou-sama would not have been able to stop a spell that would have taken an unknown number of lives," the girl told them. "The teachings of this school are clear on the necessity of protecting the innocent. What I did was in full accordance with those teachings and I will defend my actions with all that I possess."
Dismissed as the school's leaders discussed her fate, she waited nervously in the courtyard. It seemed like hours, though Asuna's watch revealed less than half an hour had passed when they were summoned back.
"It is the decision of the gathered masters, that the first charge against you be dismissed due to extenuating circumstances," Tsuruko announced. Although she didn't know why, Setsuna noted a tiny smile on Motoko-sama's face. "In so far as you have admitted to teaching our traditions to one outside of the school, you will be held accountable but the punishment will be determined at a later time."
"On the last charge," the Soke said, "it is our decision that tomorrow morning at dawn, you will face you accuser in battle to determine your fate." Her fan snapped shut, as if adding emphasis to her words. Her friends from Mahora were surprised by the judgment but all others in the room knew that only the sword would settle the feud with her twin-blade opponent.
"Your arm seems fully healed," Tsuruko said, bringing her back to the present. "Are you happy Setsuna-chan?" the woman asked, catching the student off guard.
"I'm not sure I understand your question," she replied.
"I want to know if you like the path your life has taken?" Tsuruko explained. "Are you pleased with the choices you've made."
"Yes, of course," Setsuna answered. "I am happy fulfilling my duty to protect ojou-sama."
"So it's only a duty is it?"
"Well, no … it's not just a duty," the girl said. "I enjoy being around her."
"Fulfilling your duty to Konoe-san is very important," Tsuruko responded. "But the world is full of many opportunities. Have you considered what else you could be doing?"
"Like what?"
The other woman smiled and Setsuna felt a brief flare of resentment. 'How dare she be amused by my confusion,' she angrily thought.
"Maybe study hard enough and pass the qualification exams for Tokyo University, or travel the world and unearth starling discoveries," the swordswoman answered. "Join a band and become the next pop idol, or even fall in love with a young man."
"But I like what I'm doing Aoyama-sama," she told her. "Are you saying I shouldn't want to protect ojou-sama?"
"Not at all," Tsuruko answered. "I'm just pointing out that it's not an either or proposition."
"Protect our precious ojou-sama. Do your utmost to see to her wellbeing and happiness," the woman continued. "But remember that when you look into a mirror, the person who stares back is just as important."
--
The sun had set behind the western hills, and the air grew dark. The glow of lights began to shine through thin, paper walls. Too restless to stay indoors, Tsukuyomi wandered over the temple grounds, enjoying the freedom while she could. That would end after tomorrow's duel, regardless of the outcome. If she won, they would turn her over to the Kansai Magic Association and it didn't take any special talent to know what her future would be. It was a sad end for somebody who only wanted to fight.
Ruefully, Tsukuyomi reflected on the irony of being born in the wrong century. Though this world was far from peaceful, wars were fought at a distance. Gone was the clash of arms as warriors fought each other face to face, testing skills honed razor sharp. Nowadays, scrawny men, who had never heard trumpets sound the charge, sat in little cubicles and listened to their mpeg players. They forswore the taste of fear and exultation of battle, opting instead to depress a tiny button.
How pathetic those men were as they obliterated a faceless enemy from the comfort of a chair. Their blood would never boil from the heat of combat. And only later would they know if they had hit their enemy or caused, in the parlance of today's antiseptic world, collateral damage.
Yes, the twin-blade should have been born in an earlier age, but at least she had her swords. Tsukuyomi could still recall the ring of steel against steel from the other side of the orphanage wall. The sound lured her next door with its siren song. An abandoned crate gave her access to the window where she saw children, some her age, intently gazing as two sword masters sparred. Light flashed as blades weaved in an intricate pattern, their artistry moving the youngster in a way no ballet or painting ever could.
The young girl had been thrilled to explore this marvelous world, a world where strong women demanded and received respect. How different from the orphanage that was, she observed. The simpering cows there, so afraid of causing offense, barely had the courage to stand up to their own shadows let alone the overbearing manager who lorded his position over them.
Only one thing had marred her idyllic life studying with the shinmei ryu, one Sakurazaki Setsuna. Tsukuyomi knew that girl had never set out to be her rival, but the hanyo's drive to improve set a standard that few could match. The novice's life became a round of praise followed by the ever-present "but not quite up to Sakurazaki-han's level." No matter how hard she tried, the masters never found her as swift, as graceful or as cleaver as the older girl. It had preyed on her until beating sempai became her greatest goal.
A goal she had several opportunities to fulfill over the past year. Strange how something always come up to prevent them from concluding their battles: the danger to the Konoe girl at Cinema Village, the sharp-shooter's arrival outside of Kyoto, and the immanent destruction of the Mundus Magicus had all conspired against her. And if that wasn't bad enough, she had lost one of the blades her master had given her.
She pulled the wakizashi from its sheath and stared at the naked blade as stars began to twinkle in the sky. The sword had been forged by a master of the Yamashiro School, and possessed a proud history; it and a matching katana had been presented to her by Master Aoyama before being sent to Amagasaki-han. Tsukuyomi mourned the katana's loss back in Ostia, but the shinmei ryu didn't regret the decision that led to it.
In the end, Fate-han and his backers had failed in their attempt to grab power in the Mundus Magicus. She had gone immediately to ground afterwards and spent the last months plotting how to release her mage. Amazingly, her former employer appeared, bearing the very information she needed. All the white-haired wizard asked in return was that she charge Sakurazaki-han with misdeeds.
Shortly after dawn tomorrow, she and sempai will meet one more time. 'Let tomorrow be an end to it,' the girl thought as she slipped the sword back into its scabbard. 'Whatever our duel decides, that I will accept.'
Ahead in the deepening gloom, she saw a man in a suit, a Westerner by appearance, peer through a screen of brush. A white shape perched on his shoulder and she recognized it as Springfield-han's pet. Her curiosity piqued, Tsukuyomi quietly approached.
"Are you sure that's the place?" the man asked in English.
"The only miko with short, red hair, lives in that building," the ermine answered. "So what now?"
"Give me a moment to think Albert-san?" his companion replied. "I didn't realize there'd be a guard."
Though the girl had not seen Markham-san yet, it wasn't difficult to guess the stranger's identity. The twin-blade had no reason to interfere with the two lurkers, but as an ally of Springfield-han, it might be useful to cultivate his acquaintance. Besides, her recent mood had been frighteningly dull.
"If you are talking about the seer," Tsukuyomi said, causing the man to spin about, "then perhaps I can help you."
"Tsukuyomi," Chamo gasped in surprise.
"Who?"
"This is the girl who Setsuna-san will fight tomorrow," the ermine explained. "What are you doing sneaking around?"
"I'm not a prisoner yet," the girl answered. "As for sneaking around, it seems to me that's what you two are doing."
"You must be that American they've been talking about," she continued. "So I'll ask again, would you like help getting past the guard?"
"And what would be the price for your help?" Phillip asked.
She fixed her cheeriest smile on him. "Would you believe I'm offering out of the goodness of my heart?"
The man responded with a sideways glance and half a grin. "Miss, are you familiar with the phrase 'there's no such thing as a free lunch'?"
--
The building had been originally built to store rice and other provision for the temple. Over the years since, it had seen many uses including a drying room for dyed cloth and a shed for the gardeners' tools. Now it housed a young woman who rarely left its confines.
As a middle school student, Yukimi experienced many seizures where she would see things that weren't there and babbled incoherently for minutes at a time. Her parents, convinced their daughter was possessed, brought her to the temple. They couldn't accept that the girl had a rare gift instead of demon in need of exorcising, so she was given to the temple to serve as a miko. Unable to control the visions that assailed her, the maiden withdrew into her room, insulating herself from the world.
At the behest of association's leader or one of the senior women, she made occasional forays outside but most of her time was spent here reciting the sutras. There were those who thought such behavior worthy of a holy woman, but Yukimi knew that wasn't true for her. The girl was hiding from other people, afraid of seeing what the future held for them. The masters had called this a gift, but she considered it more of a curse.
Konoe-sama had wanted her attendance last night when his daughter and her friends arrived. Her fear had been so great that he relented and allowed her to be enchanted so that the others wouldn't know she was present. 'Then I had to touch that foreigner,' the maiden shuddered while recalling the dark visions that flooded into her. 'So much sadness … sadness and death.'
Yukimi took a sip of black tea from a cup; it left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Her head jerked towards to door as a commotion sounded outside. A girl's high-pitched shriek split the air as she spewed invectives about 'panty stealing vermin.' That was followed by the guard's shout of "get that damn animal off me!"
There was a great deal more yelling and stomping about, but the sounds soon faded away. Relieved, Yukimi took another sip as the door slid open; the foreigner with the dangerous futures stepped inside. "Miss Yukimi," he said, "I need to ask you some questions about this morning."
The cup fell and its contents spilled over the floor. "Don't come near me," the maid cried out as she backed against the wall. "Don't touch me."
Shocked, the man took a step backwards and dropped to his knees. "I'm not here to hurt you miss," he tried to assure her. "But I need to ask you about what I saw when you touched me."
"What you saw?" she asked, not believing what she heard.
"Yes, the hospital room, the garden, outside the school gym, all of it," he replied. The man's tone had a touch of desperation to it.
"You saw all that?"
"Yes," he answered. "Please tell me, was it true? Are those things going to happen?"
"Are you like me then?" she asked, hardly daring to hope.
"I don't know. Sometimes I can see what other people see or think about."
Unconsciously, Yukimi relaxed. If this Markham-san was indeed clairvoyant, he might understand. No matter how hard the people here tried, they couldn't know how she felt. The shrine maiden stood and bowed to her guest. "For…forgive my rudeness," she told him. Inwardly, she cringed at her strained voice, but continued on. "Pl…please come in Markham-san."
--
Eishun sat at his desk and reviewed the latest batch of invoices. The assembled leaders of the shinmei ryu were here at his request, but they were an expensive lot to house and feed. A knock roused the swordsman from the papers. "Come in."
One of the senior shrine maidens entered and informed him of a recent disturbance. "The guard outside Yukimi-san's house was assaulted by Springfield-san's pet," she reported. "It seems it was being chased by an irate girl."
The news brought a slight smile to his lips that was instantly wiped away when he was told the girl was Tsukuyomi. "Is Yukimi-kun alright?"
"That was the strange thing Konoe-sama," the woman replied. "When the guard returned to his post, he found the door open and Yukimi-san was serving tea to a guest."
"Guest?" Eishun responded, not bothering to hide his amazement. "What guest?"
"Your daughter's teacher."
"Springfield-san?"
'No, the other one," the woman answered. "The American."
As a member of the Crimson Wing, Eishun had seen much that had surprised him. He was pleased to note that he had not lost that capacity. The swordsman had watched with mounting concern as the young miko withdrew further and further into her shell. Perhaps …
"Is Yukimi-kun well?"
"So she informed the guard."
"Then we need worry no further about it," he said. Turning back to the invoices, he continued, "I'm glad you're here. I want to discuss a few changes with you."
--
Megalo-Mesembria
Many cities across the Mundus Magicus offered spectacular sights to travelers, from the gabled-roofs of Ariadne to the mirror-bright buildings and monuments of Tantalus by the Amazonian Sea. Few could fail to be impressed by the floating islands of Ostia, or by the fallen ones that littered the devastated landscape, silent victims of the Great War. Even grim Vairocana boasted of its Demon Market where one could mingle and barter with, at your own risk, otherworld denizens.
Megalo-Mesembria, as befitting its status as the capital city, provided many attractions for tourists from the sprawling gateport island, to homes of the wealthy and influential built on top of towering, granite pillars, to the complex of buildings housing the Council of Mages. Of course not everyone who walked along its streets was a visitor intent on expanding their horizons.
The blonde-haired woman with cat-like features was a case in point. Business, not pleasure, motivated her as she navigated the busy streets with feline grace, effortlessly avoiding contact with the surging crowds. Reaching her goal, a tiny café easily overlooked by those in a rush, she pushed open the door and entered to the sound of a chiming bell.
Few besides the man behind the counter paid any attention to the new arrival. She nodded her head in response to his glance of acknowledgement and made her way to the back booth. Cintilla Nekome, licensed and bonded bounty hunter, slid into the empty seat and gazed at the robed and hooded mage sitting on the opposite side of the table.
"Right on time," her companion commented. "So I take it you're accepting the job?"
"It's outside of my normal lane," Cintilla answered, "but I have no argument with the fee offered."
The bounty hunter's new employer pushed a large envelope towards her. "You'll find information on the mark inside as well as a ticket to Ariadne," the figure told her. "The whaleship leaves tonight."
"Not to seem entirely mercenary," the cat-girl said, "but about my fee?"
A hand with long, slender fingers appeared, hefting a leather bag. "Your initial payment," the mage explained, depositing the sack on the table with a satisfying chink. "All in Granican, silver Drachmas."
Her long ears, resembling a fox more than a cat, twitched in response. "And the balance?" she asked.
"Payable upon successful completion."
A small, pink tongue appeared and ran across the hunter's upper lip as she thought. Cintilla didn't have a high opinion of mages. Possessing no appreciable talent with magic, she resented it whenever the Council overstepped its authority and interfered with mere mortals such as herself. But there was nothing wrong with their money. Both bag and envelope disappeared within the folds of the bounty hunter's cloak as she replied, "We have a deal then."
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A/N: The chapter's title and snippet come from the song "Mirror's Reflection" by Taproot.
The following words are used and are listed with their translation:
Shihan – master
Soke – grand master
Wakizashi – a short sword worn by a samurai as a side weapon
Han – means the same as san but is used in the Kansai (western) region of Japan.
Gwyneth Springfield is the name I'm using for Nekane's mother, who we never see or hear anything about in the manga, much like Negi's mother.
