Mirror |[Sasusaku Story]

Prologue

Silence.

It was all that could be heard. The emptiness was all that could describe the large room. There was no furniture. No chair, no futon, nothing. Only a small yet heavenly cupboard at the back of the room was placed on a pedestal. Various objects, cherry blossom flowers, food, and liquors were placed before it. The daily offerings. The taima was sumptuously standing in the center in its greatest splendor with the ofuda of the Goddess of Volcanoes not far away. Beautiful sacred ropes of twisted rice straw were hanging from both sides of the kamidana, framing the magnificent altar.

Before it, in a perfectly tailored red kimono, was kneeling before the little altar. Hands clasped together and eyes closed, she prayed. Her every thought was going to the Goddess of Mt. Fuji.

There she remained for hours until the heavenly canvas was being painted with a mixture of orange and pink hues. The woman moved her eyelids open, looking at the altar, moving the golden ornaments in her long pink hair. A small smile garnished her rosy lips as she got up, bowed, and left.

The woman stopped on the front step of the temple as she moved her gaze to the sky. She admired the beautiful painting that was offered to her. She was grateful to be able to witness such beauty and to be in such a wonderful place. Nature was everywhere, vivid green grass, cherry blossom petals blowing to the wind's will, birds singing their melodious songs. It was not heaven on earth, but it must be the equivalent.

Tearing her eyes away, the woman moved on the path and walked down the stone stairs. Only the sound of the blowing wind, the regular sound of the geta against the floor, and the bouncing noise of the hair ornaments could be heard.

But then she froze.

The woman looked behind. Nothing. No one. The pink-haired woman frowned but did not give more attention. So she resumed walking. But when she stepped into the forest to reach her village faster, she froze again. She turned around once more, but there was nothing, no one. She looked around, taking great care to examine her surroundings. There were only trees and leaves.

But then she felt it.

The sharp tip of a blade between her shoulder blades. The woman sucked in her breath. Her heart rate became faster as her limbs refused to move. One wrong move and it would be over. She gathered all her might to move her head, taking a look at who was threatening her. On the other side of the katana was a tall man, in a dark kimono. A vile grin was creeping on his lips as a grim look covered his eyes. The woman recognized him. He was part of the Minamoto clan.

In a matter of seconds, the man tighten his grip on the katana and rose it high in the sky. The woman's eyes widened as she took a few steps back in terror. But her foot got tangled in the root of a tree, making her fall. Everything happened so fast. The shining blade was coming in her direction at a high speed. She swore to have seen her life unraveling right before her eyes and vermillion blood splashing everywhere. But instead, a flash of black flew past her as the sound of clashing blades resonated in the air.

A broad smile of relief decorated the pink lips of the woman as her eyes landed on the paper fan embroidered on the back of the raven man's nagagi. Standing in between the mercenary and the woman, the black-haired man, equipped with a sharp katana, was blocking the blow. In a quick movement, the man with long black hair tied moved his opponent's weapon away and aimed it at his chest. The mercenary managed to protect himself but the skills of the raven-haired man were too great. It was as if he was predicting his every move. The mercenary knew he would not win this fight, so eventually, he flew.

The raven man sheathed his katana and turned to the woman. A soft smile found its way to her lips as she caught sight of his red eyes. But with a blink, it disappeared.

The man walked over to the woman. He stretched out his hand, offering his help. The woman gently put her hand in his as she stood up. And with a discreet grin, the man intertwined his fingers with hers.

It was the beginning. The genesis of two tangling stories.