Chapter Thirty-One (Part One)

The evening was drawing in, and I sat on the edge of the room with Lady Akechi as Kenji finished the finishing touches to Mitsuhide's attire. Once Kenji laid the folds and corners in the right places, he stood back with an analytical gaze. Mitsuhide looked at him expectantly. Lady Akechi stood and walked around Mitsuhide with a critical stare.

I watched them all. Although Kenji and I were not going with the Lords and Lady, we still dressed formally to see them off. But it did not compare to the ethereal quality of Lady Akechi's and Mitsuhide's attire this evening. They were otherworldly, beautiful and elegant, regal and commanding, true entities of the spiritual realm. The only thing which was a reminder of their human appearance was literally just that, in that they were in their human forms, not their Oni forms.

It was hard to believe that this were their true selves. I had spent nearly the last decade living with them, yet within human limitations and treating them as such. To see them now, in ethereal silks spun by Yomi's spiders, outlining their tall and strong forms and highlighting the beauty and grace which lay hidden in plain sight, was a stark reminder of just who exactly the Akechi actually were.

A decade ago, back in Britain, writing my works and doing my research on Sengoku Japan, I never would have imagined a minor family like the Akechi would be something so much more than what the records stated.

Lady Akechi clicked her tongue. "Good," she finally said, giving a single appraising nod to Kenji, who bowed in return and stepped back.

"Now, just the final item," Kenji said, looking to me.

I picked up the katana next to me – which had lain next to my notebook – and stood, took a few steps forward, before kneeling down again and bowed my head, holding out the katana in both of my hands.

Mitsuhide took his katana, and tied the rope around the hilt to his obi sash. When I shuffled back and looked up at him, I was reminded of the December night he appeared before me in his true form. A prince stood before me. And soon, he would be an Emperor.

Time had gone by so quickly. It felt like only yesterday when I had first met him, a proud and arrogant boy who became more thoughtful and gentle as he grew older. Now, he was eighteen. Before I knew it, a man was standing before me, not a boy. He had caught up to me, and would continue to overtake.

I was so proud of him.

He was the most beautiful entity I had ever laid eyes on, and this entity had given me his heart.

I looked back down, feeling my heart race again with the now familiar – but still uncomfortable – squeeze of love and fear.

"Thank you, both of you," Mitsuhide said to both Kenji and I. I could not help but smile at his voice as I stood and reclaimed my notebook. A thanks went a long way.

"It is my pleasure, Mitsuhide-sama," Kenji said warmly. "Nothing makes me more proud than to see how you have grown. I wish you every bit of luck and fortune in the world for your next step in life."

Mitsuhide grinned and grasped Kenji's shoulder. "I will take as much of it as I can. Thank you."

Although Lady Akechi did not smile, she looked on them with fondness. "Are we ready?"

Mitsuhide cleared his throat and let go of Kenji's shoulder. He straightened himself, and somehow it added an extra inch to his height. He looked to me, and smiled slightly.

"I believe I am," he announced.

"Then let us head to the carriage," Lady Akechi said.

It was my turn to clear my throat. "If I may. I have a congratulatory gift for you, Mitsuhide-sama, to take with you for luck."

"Indeed? Then Haha-ue, Akito, I will meet you outside."

The two of them nodded, unsurprised, and walked on ahead. When Mitsuhide turned his attention to me, I opened up my notebook and pulled something out. They were pages I had ripped out, and folded them carefully, for they encased a small gift inside.

When I handed it to him, Mitsuhide's eyes widened. "But these pages are valuable to you," he gasped softly, noting my writing on the lines.

I tilted my head and smiled. "They are, but it is fitting, for I turned my notebook into a journal, and these pages are simple, but have some nice thoughts regarding what is inside."

He held my gaze for a long time, before he unfolded the papers. Inside, he picked up – with delicate care – a pressed flower of lilac, with faded green stem and leaves.

"The bellflower," he whispered. "Our family emblem. How . . . how did you do it?"

A bubble of pleased joy welled up within my chest to hear his earnest reaction. "It was something I learnt from my father when I was a child, as a way to preserve flowers. We used to put them in books, where the weight of the pages would press them flat. And over time, the flower would dry, becoming this. Sometimes they are kept as they are, sometimes they are glued to paper. Sometimes they are sealed in resin or glass. It is not much, but within simplicity, there is beauty. And that beauty can be preserved in the most unlikely ways. But they are also delicate and easy to break. So do be careful." I clasped my hands to give myself strength. "I know you must be nervous about the coronation, therefore I – I want you to carry it with you, or keep it somewhere safe, whatever you wish. But think of it as a little bit of me being with you, to hopefully give you strength and reassurance, to remind you that life can be simple as well, even when it seems to complicated sometimes."

Mitsuhide's eyes lingered on the bellflower, before he delicately folded the papers around the flower, and tucked it into the folds of his clothes, where it rested against his chest. He placed his hand over his heart.

"I have never received something so beautiful and so meaningful before. I will treasure it for eternity," he whispered, and reached out to touch my face. "Will you wait for me?"

My breath caught in my throat, for his touch was like lightning which stole my breath and my mind. No one else could place such a spell on me.

"Yes," I said, my voice barely audible. I swallowed, trying to bring more strength into my voice, and embrace what I felt in my heart, even though it was still terrifying, but exciting. "I will be here when you return.

He smiled. "Good," he sighed, and then let go. "Well, I guess it is time for me to depart."

"Indeed it is," I agreed after a moment to recollect my thoughts, and followed a step behind him as he made his way to the courtyard where two black horses stood at the end of an equally black carriage. The setting sun cast a deep golden glow over the paintwork of the carriage and the shine of the horses' coat.

Only a few guards were in the courtyard to see them off. The information given to the humans was that the Akechi Lords were going to the temple for two weeks for deep study and meditation to benefit Mitsuhide's young governance. Kenji, Yuko, Makoto and I were the only humans who knew otherwise. And while the Akechi Lords and Lady were away, I would still be at the castle to govern in the meantime. This was common knowledge amongst all.

With Mitsuhide present, the four of them climbed into the carriage. Kenji stood by the curtain, holding it open while I approached and stood before them.

"I wish you all a safe and speedy journey. We look forward to your return," I said formally, my words neutral enough to fit in with what the guards would expect, and neutral enough to still retain the truth.

"Thank you, Osamu," Mitsuhisa thanked.

I looked at them in turn, feeling like this was the last time I was going to see the four of them for a long while. It was a strange feeling which I could not explain. Sad, and yet bittersweet.

My eyes landed on Mitsuhide last, and there they lingered.

When I next see him, he will be quite different, I thought quietly to myself.

I could not keep them waiting, and so I inhaled deeply and squared my shoulders, and bowed low. Kenji dropped the curtain, forming a veil between them and I. Though I could not see them, I knew they could still see me, and as the carriage rolled out of the castle grounds, I rose and watched them go, feeling apprehension in my heart.

The chances of the coronation being interrupted by an attack from the Oda were high. And despite hearing of how many allies the Akechi had, it did not ease the anxiety I felt in my heart. But I believed in Mitsuyasu, Mitsuhisa, and Lady Akechi to protect Mitsuhide. They would die for him, as I would too.

Despite the apprehension in my soul, and a very odd burning sensation in my ankle, I still felt all will be well in the end. I just needed to trust in them and believe. It was all I could do while forbidden from using my Sight until their return. And I did trust them, with my entire being.

"Come, Osamu-sama," Kenji said once the carriage had passed from our sight. "Let us return to the castle."

"It will be quiet and lonely for the first few days, but we will get used to it," Yuko said encouragingly.

With reluctance, I pulled myself away with a sigh. "You are right, Yuko."

"You never know. You might enjoy it more without them here," Kenji joked.

I snorted with amusement. "We'll see. I guess we will find out." I looked up at the castle. It seemed to loom bigger than how I remembered it. And it was a heavy weight. It was only nineteen days, but for nineteen days, I was Lady of the castle. I was Lady of the town. All official and non-official business would come to me.

During these nineteen days, my leadership and governance skills were going to be put to the ultimate test. Yet while I did dread it, I also relished in the challenge. Because deep down, I knew I could do it.

"You can do anything as long as you put your mind to it," my mum often said.

And as we all gradually came to realise as we grew older, parents were always right.

X

Day One

Yomi hummed with activity. Hundreds of deities from across the realms of Japan had gathered, including representatives of Takamagahara and – much to Mitsuhide's surprise – representatives of some deities from the Middle Kingdom.

Despite the great amount of immortals, spirits, Oni, Yokai and deities, Mitsuhide did not greet them. That was the duty of those who served him closest, which in this case, were his family and extended family of the Toki and Yamagishi. The eighteenth and nineteenth days were the days the visitors and worshippers could pay homage to him. Until then, Mitsuhide's task was ahead of him.

The first twelve days were for purification. The thirteenth day was the coronation ceremony itself, followed by the fourteenth day which was celebration for the guests in attendance across Yomi, but not Mitsuhide who would be in meditation. The fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth days were his spiritual ascension. Last but not least, the eighteenth and nineteenth days were for the visitors to pay homage and pledge their loyalty to him directly.

Mitsuhide thought about it as he sat in the carriage alone upon fine cushions, and tiny, floating blue wisps of cold fire lit the shadowed interior with their cool glow. They bobbed around him, innocently curious to see their new God. The carriage pulled itself, and was surrounded by a troop of soldiers led by Toki Yoriaki, Mitsuhide's great-uncle as they led Mitsuhide to the first site of purification.

They had all planned everything down to the finest and most insignificant detail, and memorised it until it was re-citable in their sleep. None of them were taking any chances, especially Mitsuhide. He was humble most of the time, but he knew when to command attention and power if necessary, when to resurrect the arrogance of his childhood to power and enforce his will.

Now was such a time, because he wanted the throne. It was his and his birthright alone. The throne was the answer to everything, for therein was the power. It may appear as the power to dominate, to dictate, to enforce and rule, and that is how the spirit world would see it. But beneath all of that, was a core and drive for it which none but Mitsuhide knew, and that was the drive to protect. With the power which would awaken within him upon his ascension, he would finally have the power to protect those around him. The memory of his father's killing and his mother's grief, and Aki's recent defeat and own death, were all too fresh.

It was his determination, his twisted inspiration. The freezing hatred and fury gave fuel to impose his purpose. He would protect them all.

But most of all, he wanted to and would protect Aki. She was his entire world, for without her, he would not exist.

He unfolded the pages from her journal and took out the pressed bellflower, holding it as gently as possible. Her description melted his heart.

"It is not much, but within simplicity, there is beauty. And that beauty can be preserved in the most unlikely ways. But they are also delicate and easy to break. So do be careful."

Aki had not realised it, but her description inadvertently surmised herself, for though her appearance may have appeared simple at first, she possessed a beauty within that simplicity. Her coming to their world had preserved her age, which was a most unlikely way to become, or appear immortal. But she was also delicate, and very easy to break.

The bellflower was her, and she was the flower. So delicate to hold, such a marvel to behold, and yet with just the slightest of pressure from his fingers, he could break her.

Mitsuhide set the bellflower carefully upon his lap, afraid of how delicate it was, and straightened out one of the three pages of precious paper she had used to fold and protect it.

She had written in English, and her writing was small and delicate, scrawny in some places. It was dated six years ago.

'So, my first attempt at a flower press a few weeks ago came out alright. It wasn't perfect, which was why I picked a dandelion for my first attempt. Nevertheless, it was enough to refresh my brain on how to do it. There are no heavy books to press on top of my notebook-journal, so I used a few heavy boxes instead. It did the trick. Yuko took it off a few times, thinking I was stacking and packing things away in a bizarre fashion which – truth be told – would have been a fair assumption from her point of view. So I had to leave a note on top, telling anyone looking to not touch the stack. Poor Yuko and her helpers was ever so confused. I have to keep reminding myself that the people here in this time have a very different way of thinking to me. It's so hard to act the same as them, sometimes! Only one who is remotely familiar is Ichirou. His ways of thinking may be whacky to everyone here, but to me, he's got the same form of normal stupidity my friends in the UK had. It is refreshing, because he is such a moron. Hehe, I guess that is why Mitsuhide and Ichirou can get along so well. They are almost opposites, and as a result, they compliment each other perfectly.

'Now, I'm going to be trying a few more flower presses over the coming seasons. I think it will be nice to have my journal filled with them. But most of all, it is the bellflower I want to press, and I want a perfect press. It may be a wild flower, but wild flowers are the best. They have the most potent medicinal purposes, smell the nicest and strongest, plus, they are so much more pretty compared to the fine pedigree flowers they plant and pick for Ikebana. Not many others share my view, it seems. I mentioned it to Lady Akechi during one session of Ikebana, and she looked mortified and disgusted. So, note to self! Don't mention stuff like that again to her.

'But really, the bellflower I think will be the most fitting as my master press. It is the family emblem of the Akechi. They took me in as one of their own, and I will gladly pay back that debt for the rest of my life. And because of their support, it makes sense for the bellflower to have the most meaning in my life. It is my favourite flower.'

Mitsuhide returned the flower to the pages, feeling a mix of emotions which surged through his body. Most prominent of all, was his love for her, which seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. He did not know how it was possible, but indeed it was. Reading her words directly allowed him access to the inner thoughts he could not hear, and there, he found a normal eighteen year old girl. She may have described herself as being in her mid-twenties, but in actuality, she was still an eighteen year old girl with a sweet heart mingled with a dark sense of humour.

The carriage came to a stop, and Mitsuhide emerged out onto the path. The first lake lay before him. Its waters were as black as liquid obsidian, rimmed by a sandy bank of crushed black stone. The moonlight and flicker of lightning reflected against the surface, making the waters appear even darker and deeper, a leviathan rolling within.

"The Lake of Night," the guardian deity of the lake, the Midnight Monk announced as Mitsuhide walked with him. "This is the first of the twelve bodies of water required to purify the body, mind and spirit, before Your Highness's ascension. They will not be easy, for each will draw toxins that otherwise would never leave the self, and the process will be painful and traumatic. Are you ready, Your Highness?"

Mitsuhide watched the water. Its surface rippled as if it possessed a mind of its own, as if something swam within. But Mitsuhide was ready. Apprehensive, he was. But not afraid.

He nodded, and two of the lesser monks came to remove Mitsuhide's single black robe. His silver hair draped down past his broad shoulders and down his back. His bare skin glowed in the moonlight, resonating with it, providing a gentle strength and resistance. It did not matter where the moon was. Because even in Yomi, the moon was still gentle and kind. She was a soft strength which held a greater power than any blinding sun or clap of violent lightning.

"It is Yin, while the sun is Yang. They are equal and perfectly balanced between them. It is important to have both Yin and Yang energies in our bodies to ensure that same balance. Where there is balance, there is an eternal, rotating strength which stems from the energy of the universe. It is infinite. And while the wheel of Yin and Yang turns in our bodies, we can overcome anything."

It was from a rare occasion when Aki spoke of the Middle Kingdom philosophies. And as Mitsuhide stepped into the lake, he inhaled the yin, to provide him with the strength he was going to need.

The lake's waters came midway up his torso when he stood in the centre of the lake. Mitsuhide was a sliver of silver light within the dark waters, and it was there, a subtle thump vibrated within the water and across its surface, nullifying what ripples there were.

The pain came gradually, but very quickly, like a rising line drawn across parchment. It was as if ten thousand needles jarred their way against his body, and through it to his core.

Mitsuhide gritted his teeth, his muscles coiling beneath his skin as his body tensed against the pain. It was a nauseating pain, combined with an ache with jarred his mind as if a freezing blade had been rammed into his skull. But it was not just in his head. It was everywhere, across every inch of his skin, seeping through every pore and membrane of his body.

It was an ordeal Mitsuhide had to endure for twelve hours, until at long last, the lake calmed, and its vibrations eased. The sweet release was so welcome that Mitsuhide almost collapsed beneath the surface. But with his inner strength, he stayed standing, walked to the edge of the lake, where he emerged. Despite the pain of the ordeal, he did feel an aspect of him was cleaner.

He did not show the toll the first purification took on him as the monks looped his arms through his robe. He maintained his cool demeanour as he sat back in his carriage.

Because despite the eleven remaining agonies to endure, he knew what to expect, he was prepared for this. And there was no turning back. He was strong, he had defied Death, and he would defy all else, for none were as great and terrible as Death.

Mitsuhide's entourage was returned to the palace, where he would have nine hours of rest, before the next purification ritual of twelve hours again.

It would be his great challenge of endurance and stamina. And it was not a matter of choice. Because there was no choice in Mitsuhide's mind. There was only success, and that is what he vowed.

X

Day Two

I spent the next day trying to work. But it was hard. I had never been on my own before since coming to Japan. Even when I was at Inabayama castle, I had Omi-no-Kata and Nouhime. But they were also at Yomi with the others. Even Mitsuharu and Mitsutada – Mitsuhide's young and noisy cousins – were not here.

The castle felt silent without them, and bigger than usual. Too big. It was very unnerving, and the stress and pressure to perform well as Lord and Lady Akechi Osamu was a heavy one.

I wondered what they were all doing. I tried to imagine it, as all I had of Yomi were descriptions. I knew the overall plan, that there were purification rituals, a coronation ceremony and then the ascension trial. As for what it entailed, I had no idea. But I hoped the ascension trial was not going to be as hard as the Chinese ones, where it involved enduring a certain amount of lightning bolts and holy fires. The higher the position, the more lightning and fires were to be endured. And it was not just that either. There were additional trials, some in the form of battle, some in the form of intellect, and some in the form of experiencing the seven bitternesses of human life. It made me feel sick just to think about it. I had loved reading the stories and watching the dramas on TV, as it was so satisfying when the lead protagonist passed all trials of hardship and heartbreak and ascended. But to imagine someone I actually knew going through it, or even me in a fantasy setting, made me feel very unwell.

Therefore I tried to concentrate on work. There was a great deal of administration to do, organising ledgers, planning on who to, where and how to distribute payments to the townsfolk and collect taxes.

Some of it I was familiar with, having helped Mitsuhide with aspects of his job. But to also maintain the castle, organise training drills with the soldiers, go through defensive tactics with Makoto, keeping the servants busy and maintain order in both the castle and the town, administering discipline and fair judgement, was a lot harder than it looked.

I could not help but realise how much it had helped by being involved in these tasks previously on a smaller scale, because it served as the perfect practice for the real thing. I was so grateful for having Kenji, Makoto and Yuko help me, as they helped keep me on track and took some of the roles from me as secondary leaders, but still ultimately reported to me.

By the end of the second day, whatever worries I had for Mitsuhide and the other Akechi, were pushed to the side bench in my mind, as my hands and brain were full enough being both a Lord and Lady of the Akechi.

X

Day Four

By the fourth day, whatever remaining thoughts Mitsuhide had which still lingered within the human world, had disappeared. The purification rituals demanded his full and undivided attention, for each were as trying and unrelenting as the last, pushing him to the breaking point with each one.

The second lake had been the Azure Lagoon, the purification of the mind. The third had been The Mirror, a pond of liquid mercury to cleanse the spirit. The fourth, was the Lily Pool, to test all three; mind, body and spirit combined. And then the cycle would continue across the remaining eight bodies of water.

As Mitsuhide submerged himself amongst the lilies of the pool, the purifying torment began anew and was an experience of the previous three combined.

Mitsuhide's awareness turned internal, focusing his mind down to a single thought, a single purpose as he resisting twisting and coiling in physical, mental and spiritual agony. He had to endure. He would endure. For the sake of all those who looked to him and would look to him in the future, for the sake of having Aki's hand in marriage, and protecting his future children, he would ascend and become Emperor.

He could almost see it, an image of Aki holding their son in one arm against her hip. Their son looked a year old, and he held something in his hand and wore an expression of innocent puzzlement within his own world. While the boy held whatever it was in his tiny hands and tested it by putting it in his mouth, their daughter, a few years older, was holding something up to Aki and babbling something with incredible vigour. Aki was laughing.

Mitsuhide was not sure if it was just an image of his imagination, or a vision of the future. But he held to it like a lifeline as the Lily Pool tested him beyond his limits, sapping his strength, weakening his mental defences, and soothing his spirit, to tempt him beneath the surface of the water and imprison him beneath their petals for eternity.

That image of a perfect family, his own family that he created, awakened a strength he never knew he had. It made him realise that the universe could throw all its might against him, and he would still resist it, he would defend against it for as long as time itself, to protect that family.

The lilies closed after the long ordeal, signifying Mitsuhide had passed. Although he was exhausted when he stepped away from the pool, he felt refreshed. He did indeed feel purer, and stronger, and when he returned to the palace, he rested and meditated in preparation for the following day's trials.

X

Day Eleven

It was a dream, a type of dream I had not had since I was instructed to not use my Sight. All of my dreams since the winter were mundane and very normal, such as the typical teeth falling out, really needing the bathroom, random events like picnics or races with friends or strangers, and others of no consequence.

This time however, I found myself standing on a misty plane beneath a veil of stars. It was eerily quiet and seemingly peaceful.

However, I found no peace in my heart, which beat quickly in my chest from a growing apprehension. The beating grew louder, until I realised there was an audible sound which came from somewhere in the mist before me. I followed the sound through the fog, and came upon a wall of ice, which stretched as high into the sky as the stars, and as far to my right and left as the eye could see to the horizons.

The thumping came from behind the wall of ice, and as I drew closer, I saw a single figure behind the ice, thumping their fists against the wall. It was a frantic sound, and somehow, I sensed fear from the individual as the person pounded against the ice. There was the sudden knowing that I had to help this person.

I looked about me, but I had nothing to help crack the ice, besides my own fist. Therefore I struck the ice with my strongest hand, being my right. The entity behind the ice did the same, and as we struck at the ice together, it began to crack. As the ice cracked, the misted glaze of the wall began to slowly clear. The person I tried to help free was a woman, of identical height and build to me. Her robes of pale green were long and flowing, a blend between hanfu and kimono in style the more the glaze cleared. The voice was beginning to seep through the cracks.

She was screaming.

The apprehension increased in my heart with a feeling of inexplicable dread. Goosebumps rippled across my flesh as the glaze finally cleared. I stopped trying to smash the ice, and stared at the woman in shock. Because the woman trying to break through the ice, was none other than me.

She pounded against the ice, and each pound cracked it more. Shards began to fall off, and a gap was made. At last, I finally heard what she was saying.

"You need to Look! Look!"

My chest constricted with terror from the terror in her own – my own – voice. "What? What do I need to look for?"

"Look! You must look! You must See! SEE!" She clawed at the hole in the ice, ripping shards down. They shattered around her feet.

"But I cannot. Not until Mitsuhide returns," I cried.

My image continued to claw at the ice. "Don't forget. Don't forget. Don't forget!" She begged. "I cannot See beyond it!"

I could not understand what she was saying. "Don't forget what?" I shouted back at her. "What do you mean?"

A whisper from behind spun me around, and there, I was met by a shadow which rushed through the mist. A katana flashed, and my blood splattered across the ice.

I woke up with a jolt, my breath shaking. It was still dark, still night. My room was empty, yet its silence was deafening.

My pulse thundered in my ears, where my own voice still echoed. I raised my shaking hands to clamp over my ears, as if I could block out the suffocating terror from myself. Sweat rolled down my back, and I sat there, shivering, paralysed by the fear of my nightmare.

Just a dream. Just a dream, I repeated in my mind, over and over again, until I could think through the soup of fear and lower my hands. It took a long while before my hands stopped shaking and my breath steadied. My eyes adjusted to the gloom, illuminated only by the gentle light of starlight barely making it through the screens.

My mirror's screams and voice was still clear in my head, making me feel cold to my core.

"Don't forget what?" I repeated to myself under my wavering breath. I did not understand what I meant by what both versions of me said in the nightmare. But I did understand the feelings. The fear was very real.

Although, what stood out to me the most was actually the sense of apprehension, because it was the same as the apprehension I felt when I saw the Akechi Lords and Lady off. Somehow, I felt I would not be seeing them again for a while.

And now, the feeling was very certain for a reason I could not explain.

My dream self wanted me to See, to Look, to use the Sight. That much I was certain. But I knew I could not, not until the Lords and Lady had returned. I knew now that my ability possessed an etheric signature which others of the spiritual world sensed. And I had to hide that until Mitsuhide came back, just in case messengers of the Oda came again.

But my own warning was stark, it was demanding, and struck a fear within me as surely an arrow hit its mark. I warred between the two, between my inner self demanding I use my Sight, and the warning Mitsuhide and the others gave me back in December.

I clenched my fists hard, and sat there in the dark as I thought. There was only one point of comfort, and that came from the red string Yue Lao had given me. Somehow, it was reassuring as I rubbed it from where it was tied around my ankle.

x

Day Twelve

Mitsuhide stood at the edge of the gnarled cliff. Beyond him was a unique landscape, where the cliff circulated a dip within the geography of the land. Within the dip, was a blanket of mist which lay in the bowl-like valley like a lake in itself. Except the water was mist, a mile deep. The cliff edge reached out like the jagged fingers of a clawed hand, to ensure that whatever fell down into valley, stayed there.

Haunted sounds came over the breezes which touched over the blanket layer of mist. Wails and screeches echoed from across the lake.

"The Valley of Wails," the guardian Oni of the final lake breathed. She was an entity as mystical as the mist itself, for her body was that of vapour.

"This is the final purification ritual, and most challenging of them all," she said, her voice like a sigh of the wind. "The Valley of Wails claim and keep all those who wander into its midst. Their wails and despair become its body and voice. Only those of true self can endure the mist. Is His Highness prepared?"

Mitsuhide gazed out across the Valley of Wails and drank in its presence. For all the dangers and agonies of the previous eleven lakes, the Valley of Wails was the most frightening of them all. Because none who ventured there, ever returned, except the few of millennia passed who were strong enough to endure and tell the tale, before they were lost in history.

It was a prison of no bars, a place in which wanderers lost not only their way, but their minds, their memories, their hearts, and their very selves of being. The Valley took their existence.

This was the ultimate test. And if – when – Mitsuhide passed, he would know exactly who he was, without a doubt in his mind.

He turned to look at his great-uncle, who had guarded him throughout the purification rituals. Others came and went throughout the path, but Yoriaki was the greatest warrior of them all, and so he guarded through every trial. No ambush had come. No attack had happened.

Yoriaki met Mitsuhide's eyes, and nodded firmly. Therefore Mitsuhide turned his gaze forward again, and answered the guardian Oni.

"I am ready," he announced. For this one, he did not need to remove his robe, for the mist would envelope him completely. Instead, Mitsuhide's white hair elongated, snaking out along the edges of the cliff and reaching out over the mist to the rocky edges on his closest sides.

Like a giant silver and black spider, Mitsuhide raised himself into the air and out over the lake of mist. Tendrils of the mist reached up tentatively, while others swayed gently here and there, with a mind of its own, as if it were alive and curious. But within that gentle curiosity, was a monster of no form. It waited patiently, the pale abyss staring into Mitsuhide as surely he stared into it.

With a deep and steadying breath, Mitsuhide lowered himself in. The mist enveloped him in its embrace, submerging him into the pale grey gloom.

He felt as if he were sinking down through the sea, floating deeper and deeper, until even the constant flicker of lightning in the sky no longer penetrated this deep down. Yet it was not dark, for the mist itself emitted a soft grey glow. It was a type of glow which disorientated him. When Mitsuhide finally set down on solid ground, it was as if the ground was also made of mist. Even if Mitsuhide tried to reach out towards the surface with his hair, he could not tell which way was up, which was down, what was right, or what was left.

Mitsuhide knelt down on the ground, breathing carefully and steadily to control the fear of the unknown which was rising within him. No amount of reading or preparation could have prepared him for his ordeal in the Valley of Wails. He could already feel his mind wanting to wander, to have trouble remembering why he was there. If he could not remember why he was there, then how did he get here in the first place? Where was he?

The disorientation and confusion came quickly – or slowly. There was no way to gauge the passage of time. Time was separate. It did not exist here in the deep. It was a foreign concept, one which Mitsuhide no longer understood.

I am in the Valley of Wails, a small part of him fought back. It was small, but it was sharp and hard. It was that small inner voice which continued to push through every time it felt like his mind wandered too far. It brought him back, but just.

It felt like Mitsuhide was running a marathon, but each check point was growing farther and farther apart. The hours stretched on, and on, and on.

Mitsuhide wondered why he was running such a marathon. He wondered why he was doing it, and where he was. He wondered how he got there and what happened before.

Then, he finally asked himself a question, one which he asked the mist.

"Who am I?" He asked himself softly, feeling confused and tired.

The mist caressed him, letting him know the answer was not important. It smoothed the confusion from his mind, silently cooing and lulling him into a safe and eternal sleep.

He wanted to obey the kind suggestion, to lie down, to let the mist stroke away all the worries of his mind. There was no world beyond the sea of mist. The world was the sea of mist. Its muffled wails were like lullabies which silenced the sleepy and stray thoughts of his mind. The ground was soft beneath his body, encouraging him to lay down and rest his head.

Sleep . . . Forget . . .

The mist sighed to him. It sounded so reassuring. So soothing. He would do that in a moment. He lowered his head from where he knelt, feeling his eyes droop. His eyelids were heavy, and each blink lasted longer and longer, until eventually his eyes stayed closed.

And yet, there was something which bothered him. His wrist was hurting. It was a fiery sensation, a burning ring around his wrist which kept him awake.

He opened his eyes, feeling a twinge of annoyance. Why was he feeling pain when the mist could soothe everything away? Why couldn't the mist remove it?

He raised his wrist, and looked at what seemed to be the problem.

It was a thread of red string tied around his wrist. It shone brightly, a crimson contrast against the pale whites and greys of the mist around him. It pulsed steadily, and he touched it curiously with his other hand, trying to remember where it came from. It pulsed in time with his heart, reminding him of his body which he had. The same kind of fiery sensation burned within his heart, and he placed his hand over his chest, marvelling over it as he felt like he was discovering his body for the first time. There was an excitement, and curiosity to discovering it. It pushed the fatigue away, and although he felt a dark resistance from the mist, it was small compared to what he was feeling.

There was something else over his chest too, between the folds of his robe. Therefore he took it out, and found himself holding some folded sheets of paper. There was a lot of writing on it, and he opened it. A beautiful pressed flower slipped from it and landed on his lap, which he picked up with delicate care and marvelled at it, remembering there were such things as flowers, and not all the world was just mist.

Some flickers of memories returned, of gardens, trees, forests, flowers and rivers. Where had he seen them before if his entire life had been in the sea of mist?

He looked at the papers, and decided to read one of the pages to see what it said.

'The bellflower press was successful! You can see the outline it left on the page, which is a very pretty feature in itself. It looks a lot prettier if I write over the outline, rather than the other way around. Some of my previous pages are a bit smudged and dirty because the flower juices mixed the ink. Anyhow, lessons to be learnt. I think I will use this one as a bookmark for my journal. Oh, but it is ever so lovely! I fear if I use it as such, I would end up breaking it within a day. So maybe I should just keep it in one of my drawers. It is less likely to break this way.

'I wonder if someone else will see the beauty in these flowers, like I do? Chiyo probably will, so I'll show her one next time I see her. I'll have to hide it from Ichirou though, otherwise he will just laugh in my face and tell me I am too girly. Not sure about Mitsuhide though. I have a feeling he may appreciate it one day, but when he is older. He is very thoughtful and caring, but he is still a young teenager right now. Teenage boys don't have much appreciation for many things until they hit eighteen AT LEAST . . . maybe. For most, it won't be until they hit their thirties. Boys take forever to grow up mentally. Dad always said that most boys never really grew up until they hit forty. But Mitsuhide is quite different. He will grow up quickly, and when he eventually hits eighteen and takes on the clan leadership position, he will be mature enough to appreciate the arts better (I hope!).'

As he read it, he realised the writer spoke about him, and another small piece of the puzzle slotted into place, reminding him that his name was Mitsuhide. Vague flashes of memories flickered through his mind of the one called Chiyo and Ichirou. But who was the one who wrote the passage in the first place? Who made the flower?

He twirled the stem of the flower between his fingers, feeling how fragile it was, how easy it would be to crush it. But Mitsuhide did not want to crush it, for it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Whoever created it, must have had an eye for finding beauty in the most unlikely places. And people like that, already possessed a heart full of beauty, to be able to create it.

As he sat there, he thought. His name was Mitsuhide, and he wondered why he had forgotten that in the first place.

He never could have realised that that one question alone slipped him unexpectedly down a path which sped through his mind. It clapped like thunder in his head. It punched him in the chest, and jolted through his spirit with a recoil of shock and violent enlightenemt.

The realm of Yomi; the twelve lakes of purification; his coronation and ascension; his best friend Ichirou and his sister Chiyo; Aki's precious gift to him.

The gift which saved him.

Mitsuhide's eyes widened. Even while she was not even with him, Aki saved his life again, now for a third time.

"I remember," he said out loud, folding the paper around the bellflower and placed it back within the folds of his robe.

Mitsuhide stood, feeling the surge of power within him which came with his memory. He was here to ascend. He was here to become the Emperor of Yomi.

He was doing it all, to protect those he loved.

"I remember everything!" He shouted. "I am Akechi Mitsuhide! I know who I am!"

His body glowed, shining brighter and brighter like a star which forced the mist away. The mist, had lost. And with a piercing, cacophonous shriek of a thousand voices, it cleared with a howl.

The Valley's walls from the farthest reaches were finally visible. Mitsuhide turned his gaze to the sky, to his way out, where he was met by the clouds of lightning and glimmered of the moon and stars beyond. His way was clear, and he smiled in triumph.

His hair expanded and reached out, far and wide across the width and breadth of the Valley of Wails, and like a spider, he climbed out of the Valley, to where the guardian Oni awaited with Yoriaki.

The shine from Mitsuhide's body dimmed, but the edges of his form retained a shimmer, and all those who stood, bowed.

"You have passed the final test," the guardian breathed. "The Purification Rituals are complete. Congratulations, Your Highness. Yomi has deemed you worthy to be crowned its Emperor."