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A young woman in her rightful place, ensconced at the Golden Castle.
Betrothed to the son of the emperors favorite consort.
Credit: Crystal Stokes
Bestowing honor to the Hattori name.
The scented water in the wooden furo felt the same as it did at home.
Like heated silk sliding across her skin.
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It all felt so similar.
Under her brothers watchful care, theyd arrived to Inako late last night.
To an imperial city cloaked in mourning.
To streets teeming with whispers.
Today was the funeral of their emperor, who had died suddenly, beneath a veil of suspicion.
Upon discovering his body, the empress wailing was said to have been heard across all seven maru.
Even beyond the castles iron-and-gold-plated double gates.
Raged at all those nearby, accusing them of treachery.
It had taken a flock of maidservants to soothe her and begin ushering her toward her tears.
Toward final whimpers of resignation.
But beneath this hushed intensity seethed something sinister.
The faint breeze blowing past the woven screen of her norimono had sighed a final sigh.
An owl had blared across the firmament, its cry ringing off the stone walls.
As though in warning.
Here in Inako, Mariko would not be granted a moments respite.
Nor did she wish for one.
She would not allow herself anything of the sort.
She bit down hard on nothing.
Braced herself for the coming fight.
It would be unlike any Okami and the Black Clan had taught her in Jukai forest.
In this fight, she would not have weapons of wood and metal and smoke at her disposal.
She would instead be armed with nothing more than her mind and her own mettle.
In a game of wits against brawn.
Here in Inako, Marikos armor would not be hardened leather and an ornamented helmet.
It would be perfume and powdered skin.
She had to convince Prince Raiden her betrothed to trust her.
She needed him to cast her as the hapless victim instead of the willing villain.
Though I plan to be a villain in all ways.
She would learn the truth about who conspired to kill her that day in the forest.
Why they attempted to frame the Black Clan for the deed.
And what deeper cause lay beneath their designs.
Even if those at the heart of the matter were the imperial family itself.
Even if her own family might fall into the crosshairs.
The thought sent a chill through her bones, as though the water in thefurohad suddenly turned to ice.
Even before hed let soldiers loose arrows around his only sister in a shower of fire and ash.
But Mariko refused to align the Hattori name with that of the shiftless nobles in the imperial city.
The same nobles intent on lining their pockets and gaining influence at the expense of the downtrodden.
What if Okami is already dead?
She tightened the grip on her knees.
They will want to make a show of his death.
And I will be there to protect him when they do.
It was strange to think Mariko possessed the power to protect someone she loved.
Shed never known the right words to do so before.
Never known how to wield the right weapons.
But ingenuity could be a weapon, in all its forms.
Her mind could be a sword.
Her voice could be an axe.
Her fury could ignite a fire.
Nor would Mariko allow herself to lose anything she loved.
Shed watched in the shadows as Kenshin had permitted soldiers to descend on her in Jukai forest.
Felt the pang of her brothers betrayal with each of his questioning glances.
Shed bit her tongue as these same soldiers had forced Okami to kneel in the mud and surrender.
As theyd taunted and derided him from their lofty perches.
Mariko swallowed, the bitterness coating her throat.
I will protect you, no matter the cost.
Look at your nails.
The creases across the servants brow deepened as she spoke, cutting through Marikos musings.
Her admonition conjured more memories of Marikos childhood.
Its as though youve been digging through mud and stone all your life.
Shetsked, inspecting Marikos fingers even further.
Are these the hands of aladyor a scullery maid?
Her sight blurred as she gazed at her scarred knuckles.
Another pair of hands took shape in her minds eye, its calloused fingers intertwined with hers.
Organized the chaos of her thoughts into something coherent.
She bit her lip and widened her eyes.
they made me work for them.
Her voice sounded small.
Exactly as she intended.
The servant chuffed in response, her expression still dubious.
It will take the work of an enchantress to repair this damage.
Her words remained harsh, unmoved by the sight of Marikos feigned timidity.
Strangely though this womans rebuke was in no way comforting it nevertheless warmed Mariko.
It brought to mind her mothers quiet, ever-present judgment.
The servant reminded her of Yoshi.
At the thought of the grumblingly good-natured cook, Marikos eyes began to water in earnest.
The servant watched her, an eyebrow peaking into her forehead.
That time, the sight of the older womans judgment spurred a different reaction.
Anger roiled beneath Marikos skin.
She snatched her hand away and averted her gaze, as though she were afraid.
The servants stern expression lost some of its severity.
As though Marikos embarrassment was an emotion she could understand and accept.
When she next took hold of Marikos hand, her touch was careful.
In the same instant Mariko fought to curb her anger, she paused to take note.
My fear even when it is feigned has more weight when it is matched alongside anger.
My lady, may I dispose of these?
Her round face and button nose squinched in disgust.
They were the garments Mariko had worn in Jukai forest, when shed been disguised as a boy.
Shed refused to discard the faded greykosodeand trousers, even at Kenshins behest.
They were all she had now.
Her eyes widening in what she hoped to be a sorrowful expression, Mariko shook her head.
hey have them washed and stored nearby.
The ill-tempered elder servant harrumphed at her words.
The colors of the oil shimmered around Mariko like fading rainbows.
A petal caught on the inside of her knee.
She dipped her leg beneath the water and watched the petal float away.
Hed told her she had a great deal of water in her personality.
Mariko had been quick to disagree with him.
Water was far too fluid and changeable.
Her mother had always said Mariko was like earth stubborn and straightforward to a fault.
I need to be water now, more than ever.
Mariko wondered what had become of the Black Clan after Okami had surrendered to her betrothed.
Wondered how Yoshi and Haruki and Ren and all the others had fared following such a dire blow.
Only three nights past, theyd learned their leader had been deceiving them for years.
He was not in fact the son of Takeda Shingen.
The boy theyd followed and called Ranmaru for almost a decade was instead the son of Asano Naganori.
This boys real name was Asano Tsuneoki.
Theyd all been deceived.
The true son of Takeda Shingen, the last shogun of Wa: Okami.
Resentment smoldered hot and fast in Marikos chest.
Guilt coiled through her stomach.
She took a steadying breath.
This was the reason shed asked Kenshin to bring her to Inako.
Mariko had to find a way to free Okami.
To those who fought to change the ways of the imperial city and restore justice to its people.
To topple evil from its vaunted pedestal.
Stand, the servant demanded in a curt tone.
Respect for an elder regardless of status drove Mariko to obey the truculent woman without question.
She let the woman lead her to the largest piece of polished silver shed ever seen in her life.
Her time in Jukai forest had changed Mariko on the outside as well.
The angles of her face were more pronounced.
What had been willowy before was now honed.
Muscles shed not known shed possessed moved as she moved, like ripples across a pond.
She was stronger now, in more ways than one.
The elderly servanttsked again.
Youre as thin as a reed.
No young man will want to caress skin and bones, least of all one like Prince Raiden.
Again the urge to react rose in Marikos throat.
The truth blazed bright within her.
She was more than an object of any mans desire.
But on this particular score, the servant was right.
She did need to eat if she intended to play the part.
Mariko smiled through gritted teeth.
Let her lips waver as though she were exhausted.
kindly do whatever you’re able to whatever magic you possess to restore me to my past self.
To the sort of young woman who might yo the prince.
I want nothing more than to forget what happened to me.
She struggled to stand taller.
Fought to look proud.
Though the creases on her features deepened, the servant nodded.
My name is Shizuko.
If you do as I say, it is possible we can remedy the effects of this .
Make me fit for a prince, Shizuko-san.
Shizuko sniffed and cleared her throat before directing the other servant girls to come forward.
In their arms were more bolts of lustrous fabric.
Piles of damask and painted silk, wrapped in sheets of translucent paper.
Trays of jade and silver and tortoiseshell hairpieces.
Almost absentmindedly, Mariko ran the tip of a finger down the needled point of a silver hairpiece.
Recalled one of the last times she had held one in her hand.
The night shed pierced it through a mans eye for attacking her.
Mariko knew what she needed to do.
For the sake of those she held dear, she needed to appear tall and proud.
She spoke in a near whisper, as though her words were nothing but an afterthought.
The imperial family will need me to appear strong, just as they are.
Just as they will need to be.
Because Hattori Mariko had a plan.
And this unwitting woman had already provided her with the first piece of the puzzle.
