Before the worlds split, spirits and humans alike had traveled from far and wide to see the mysterious palace and the dragons who dwelled there. It was a place of pilgrimage still, for those who were hungry, powerless, or simply in seek of beauty. Tenryu, however, had no eyes for the glimmering schools of fish that filled the reefs or the forests of kelp in the palace gardens, or for the shining spheres of solid water that made up the rooms of the palace. He had seen the white figure peering down from a window high above the sea floor, and had recognized it.
Tenryu watched the figure back away from the window and smiled to himself. He knew how hard the young prince had been trying to avoid him. So Kohaku is intrigued in spite of himself, is he? It was about time. Tenryu remembered the human girl at the bathhouse who had pulled the pollution from his banks. Sen, she was called. He had recognized her for what she was at once: an invaluable jewel, a human untainted by greed. She was the one they needed, he was sure. She would see simply enough, be self-sacrificing enough. When he had gone back to the bathhouse to look for her, however, she had gone, and no one knew where. He heard rumors that Prince Kohaku had loved the girl. If anyone could find her, it would be him.
The heirs’ mercenaries had been charged to keep applicants away, but had no leverage against someone of Tenryu’s stature, and it wasn’t long before Tenryu came up the steps and to the entrance hall. The guards could only bow and uncross their tridents as he entered, leaving the task to their master, Prince Fujisan. Prince Fujisan stood there on the dais, blocking the open door to the throne room where the King sat, alone. He had sharp black eyes and a short black beard. His long hair was tied back loosely, and hung until it blended into the shadows of his red, floor-length kimono. He was ten thousand years old. Still young, Tenryu thought.
“My prince,” Tenryu greeted the man, bowing respectfully.
Prince Fujisan only acknowledged this deference with an insultingly small nod. “You’re here to see my father,” he said coldly.
It wasn’t a question, but Tenryu gave no indication of taking offense. “Yes,” he agreed mildly.
“As you can see, he’s busy. Too busy to attend to any business of yours, Tenryu. Especially if it concerns your obsession with the humans.”
“My prince, would we walk away from all that we have loved and protected for eons?” Tenryu asked earnestly. “Walk away from our homes and from our very souls?”
“The only purpose in staying would be to repulse the monsters,” Fujisan said lightly, as though discussing the weather. “They parasitize those very homes and souls of which you speak and they spread like the plague.”
“The humans aren’t evil, my prince,” Tenryu said, shaking his head. “They are only ignorant and gravely mistaken.” The prince’s attitude saddened him. He remembered when Prince Fujisan used to play happily with human children.
“Are you blind and deaf, Tenryu?” Fujisan spat, “or have you been cowering in your den these past centuries? Have you not tasted the poisoned air and water? Did you not feel the earth shake only yesterday in protest to the abomination the monsters have unleashed? In many places I can no longer feel starlight on my scales. It breaks me more than the spilling of blood on my slopes. Look what they did to Kawauso, who loved them. They killed him. They think they can use a word like “extinct” and pretend it wasn’t murder.
“They have taken everything from me, and they’ll have no more. They are evil, greedy, ungrateful beasts.” He calmed himself down with a visible effort. Then, steadily, he said, “You are a fool, Tenryu, and my father will not hear you.”
Tenryu had been aware of Kohaku’s presence since he had entered the room. Now, he acknowledged it, looking into the corner from which the younger prince had silently witnessed the entire exchange. Tenryu spoke as if half to Fujisan and half to the silent Kohaku: “There is a girl, a human, who would prove you wrong about the humans. She is the pure, innocent child every one of us holds dear in our hearts. Even you, my prince, would not be able to deny it.”
Fujisan followed Tenryu’s gaze and glared at the young man in the shadows, ignoring this last comment. “You think Kohaku can get you an audience with the king? He's a disgrace. They killed him. They stole his power, and you think he’ll side with you? You think he has the strength? Look at him, Tenryu. They have almost made my brother one of them, a pathetic human. You should pity him, and look to the ones with power. And they say you are wise. You should go now. I wish you luck, chasing fairy tales as you do.”
Kohaku barely heard Fujisan’s contemptuous words. The sentiment had not been a new one. It was what Tenryu had said about the girl, the girl that could only be Chihiro, that had drained the blood from his face.
---
A banquet was held every night after King Nihonkai’s audience. It was a chance, especially at this end of the millennia, to see the King, since competing heirs couldn’t filter through every person who approached. It was also a chance for those in need to fill their stomachs, since everyone was welcome, and food was aplenty.
Tonight’s was nothing special. The hall, which floated disconnected to the rest of the palace, had been shrunk to suit the smaller size of the party. Servers moved about the room with trays of food and drink. Courtiers flaunting the newest fashions or children strutted through the crowd. Their servants followed, clearing space around their masters for their elaborate sleeves and trains. Students moved about chatting with visiting friends or future employers, and avoiding their teachers. The throng drifting about the King in the spherical banquet hall was so thick that the King was barely visible to the rest of the room. The only unusual occurrence was that all three princes were present. Fujisan, the eldest, and Tateyama, the second son, ignored their brother, which meant the crowd generally ignored him as well.
This suited Prince Kohaku just fine. It left him free to keep an eye on Tenryu, deep in discussion with some more ancient spirits on the other side of the room. Still, there were always certain people…
Kohaku took a drink from a passing server as a woman approached him.
“Your Highness,” the woman said, bowing.
Haku put on his best courtier face and turned to her. “How may I serve you, Lady Ame?”
“My son, Your Highness. He’s of an age to be at court. Past the age, in fact. If your father has an opening… Even learning to serve would be an improvement to what he’s been doing, running about wild and uncivilized.”
Haku smiled. “I will do what I can, my lady.”
“Thank you so much, Your Highness. Please don’t go to any trouble,” Lady Ame said. “I just wish you’d keep him in mind if your father ever mentions the need…”
“What is your son’s name?” Haku asked.
“Yes, Your Highness, it’s Shik-”
Over Lady Ame’s head, Haku saw Tenryu slipping away from the crowd and toward the door. Haku bowed, cutting her off. “My apologies, my lady. I have been summoned. I shall keep your son in mind.” He bowed again, and floated toward where he had seen Tenryu last. He was gone. Through the wall of the palace he saw the distorted image of the older dragon walking down the path. He looked around - no one was paying him any attention - and then pressed his palm against the crystalline wall. As a member of the royal family, he had the power to shape the solid water of the palace as he wished, but in the company of those who couldn’t, it was still rude. The wall parted like jelly to let him through, and then solidified again behind him. He was out.
Haku shifted into his dragon body and swam toward the ocean floor, staying among the kelp and out of sight. The currents from the guards passing above him rippled along his hide. He wondered why Tenryu would choose to walk when swimming would be much faster. Is he waiting for me? He caught up with the old spirit and changed back behind a passing school of fish. There were perks to the dragon form, but talking was not one of them. He waited until Tenryu rounded a bend in the path that put some coral between him and the guards by the palace entrance, then emerged from behind a coral topiary along the path and into Tenryu’s way.
“What did you intend by coming here today, Tenryu?” Haku asked.
“My prince, what a pleasant surprise.” Tenryu said, bowing. “I came to see your father, the King.”
“You won’t see the king, not with only a few months until he abdicates,” Haku said, eyes narrowed. “You should’ve known Fujisan wouldn’t permit it. You shouldn't have come.”
“You could get me an audience,” Tenryu said.
Haku laughed bitterly. “Maybe I would’ve tried, before today. But you did not come to me. And now, why would I, if the girl you mentioned to Fujisan is who I think it is?”
“So you agree with me, that she is the one we need.”
“If we were in agreement, then you would not even consider dragging her into this mess.”
“We need her, Your Highness, just as we need you.”
“I’ve told you before. I can’t be the king you want.”
“Your father must abdicate this year. We’re low on candidates and we’re low on time. We’re not picky, Prince Kohaku,” Tenryu told him.
“Perhaps you could offer Fujisan that loyal support. He would appreciate it, I'm sure.”
Tenryu ignored this. “I want you to help us find the girl,” he said.
“I will not.”
“So you know where she is,” Tenryu said.
“It does not matter. You will not involve her. Besides, she’s eighteen now,” Haku said. “She’s not a child anymore; I doubt she’s still as “pure and innocent” as the girl you imagine, and her life is not yours to appropriate. Find someone else. Leave her alone.”
“You won’t be able to ignore the war for much longer, my prince,” Tenryu warned. “The bridges between the worlds are crumbling, if you haven’t noticed, and then you’ll never see her again.”
“I can’t cross the border anyway,” Haku laughed. “She is cut off from me. I'll never see her again. Don’t you get it? My brother is right. They killed me. I should be dead, understand? Dead, like Kawauso is dead!” Haku’s voice rose until he was shouting. Then, looking straight at Tenryu, he said: “Stop searching for her. Leave her out of it.”
Haku had a feeling he knew what role Tenryu wanted Chihiro to play in the war, and he didn’t like it. He could think of nothing more dangerous than bringing her to Akuma’s attention. Tenryu was right when he said she was special. They all knew it. But that didn’t give him any right to involve her in their insane cause. She deserved to be safe. And happy.
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