Stairway to Heaven
Book 1: "Do all roads lead to nowhere?"
By: Loralei Fairhill
Rated: PG-13
Genre: AR



	A bloodcurdling scream pierced the still
night air, followed by several low moans and crashes. 
The shuffling of almost silent feet could be heard 
climbing out of one of the large bay windows and onto 
the moonlit balcony, dropping to the ground several 
feet below, where the footsteps faded away as the 
shadow making them receded into the anonymity of the 
darkness.
	Soon, there came the sound of a woman's 
hurried steps running swiftly down the slates of 
the columned hallways to the room where the scream 
came from. A door creaked open of its own accord, 
and the woman glanced in. She gasped loudly.
	"Kami-sama, forgive us!" she wailed as she 
looked upon the torn and bloody sheets staining 
the bed crimson with the lifeblood of the two mangled 
corpses that lay upon it, clinging to each other even 
in death. She looked away, her stomach suddenly in her 
throat. She gulped, trying to force it back down, 
then called frantically, "Help me, somebody!"  She 
fled the room through the open doorway and ran down 
the corridor. She screamed, ineffectually strangled 
with fear, "The child! They're coming for the child! 
Hide her!"
	A small, lithe girl-child with her blond hair 
tied into two wispy buns peaked out from a shadowy 
alcove on the side of the hallway and stared curiously 
after the frightened woman with brilliant blue eyes. 
Then she ran in the opposite direction, her little 
footfalls so light on the flagstones that they made no 
sound at all. She ran on her slim legs until she reached 
the arched doorway that the screaming woman had 
previously occupied. She trod slowly across the 
mosaic-tiled floor to the parted brocade bed-curtains. 
She stood on tiptoe to see who was in the high feather 
bed, wondering what could have scared the strange woman 
so. When she saw, she drew back, reeling from shock 
and fear, mumbling, "Iie  . . . mama . . . 
papa. . . ." She backed slowly away until she hit 
something soft which stood solidly against the wall 
of the room. She took in a quick surprised breath as a 
warm hand covered her mouth and a cold steel blade was 
pressed against her young, quivering neck.
	"Not a word . . ." the gravelly voice next to 
her small, delicate ear whispered. "Not one word if you 
value your life, tsuki-ko. . . ."
	The little girl was half-carried, half-dragged 
back into the darkness of the cool evening with the 
stranger holding the knife to her vulnerable throat and 
his hand on her mouth the whole time.
	When they reached the very edge of the balcony, 
he told her to jump and she obeyed him without question. 
Then he sheathed his dagger and followed, swooping her 
up into his arms as he landed and running off with his 
precious cargo into the misty night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~@

	She awoke to the sound of breakfast being made 
in their small makeshift camp, which consisted of 
several waterproof tents erected around a single fire 
in the middle. There were four in all, she noticed 
immediately, and she occupied none of them. Where was 
her captor? Then she remembered he didn't have a tent; 
he had slept out under the stars across the fire from 
her, guarding her against some nameless terror, she 
assumed. But that was not what worried her. It was 
what he told her as he put her into some warm woollen 
blankets the night before that frightened her the most. 

	"I don't want to have to hurt you, so please 
just follow my instructions, tsuki-ko. I know it's 
going to be hard for you at first, since your parents 
were killed, but just listen to what I have to say." 
	She turned her head away from his piercing blue 
gaze and folded her arms across her flat chest. 
Insolently, she said, "Watabashi no hime. Why should 
I listen to you who have killed my parents?" 
	It was a good question, and he had no real answer 
for it, except, "My parents are the assassins who did 
it, not me, and I obey them. They tell me only that 
it was necessary, as it will be necessary for you to 
remember nothing of your life before you met me."
	"And how do you propose to do that?" she 
asked, eyeing him squarely and setting her chin 
stubbornly. He shrugged, brushed back an errant 
strand of jet-black hair, and moved away to his own 
pallet on the other side of the smoky fire. She pulled 
the warm covers closer about her shoulders, wondering 
at the meaning of his prediction, but only briefly, 
for she was cold and had on only her thin white shift; 
in her curiosity about the screaming woman, she had 
not even taken the time to put on her robe. Slowly, 
she drifted off into a fitful slumber full of ghostly 
apparitions of her deceased parents, and screams, 
and the running of feet.

	The next morning brought more perspective 
to the little girl of her captor as he crouched, 
concentrating on cooking in a black iron pan over 
the glowing coals. He was just a boy, barely four 
winters older than her ten, with deep cerulean eyes 
and black, straight hair. She looked at him warily, 
then sat up and pushed the covers back slightly, yawning 
and stretching her arms skyward as she did so. Then 
she saw him looking at her intently as he placed another 
piece of battered bread into the frying pan. She 
glared at him in response, and he turned his attention 
back to cooking. 
	"I see you're up bright and early," he said, 
sauntering over and handing her a plate full of various 
fruits and a large, fried and egg-soaked piece of 
bread sprinkled with freshly gathered herbs.
	She took one look at it, then set it down 
beside her and said, "I don't want it."
	He raised an eyebrow. "Fine. You'll wish you 
ate it later, after we strike camp and travel on." 
He put some of the same variety of food onto his own 
plate and doused the fire and cookpan with water. It 
steamed and sizzled as the cool liquid put out the hot 
flames. Then he lifted a small flagon of wine to his 
lips and drank thirstily. He placed it on the ground 
beside to him and corked it. 
	"I can't understand you," she countered. 
"Why did you take me here? I want to go home!" A tear 
dropped from her glassy eye down her cheek. "I want 
my parents back," she whispered slowly. "What did I 
do to deserve this from you?"
	He looked at her sadly, his eyes turning to 
a tumultuous gray-blue, seeming as though he wanted 
to hold and comfort her and wipe away her tears, but 
restrained himself for an unknown reason. 
	"I didn't choose your fate, tsuki-ko. Don't 
blame me, onegai, blame the ones who sent for you."
	Her eyes widened in surprise. "Who sent for 
me? Why? What do they want? I want to go home!" she 
wailed. 
	This time he did take her into his arms, did 
wipe away her tears. He pulled her into his lap and 
rocked back and forth, stroking her hair with a tender 
hand. He started whispering some words in another 
language, which turned into a kind of crooning lullaby. 
The girl's eyes started to close as she was lulled to 
sleep by the lilting sound of his voice. Loud and soft, 
high and low, the echoes of the music sounding in her 
ears helped her drop off into a dreamless slumber. The 
boy continued to sing as he carefully picked her up 
and set her back down on the blankets, pulling one of 
them over her small body and tucking it under her chin.
	". . . and when you wake, you shall find you 
remember nothing but us, tsuki-ko," he said as he 
pushed back a wisp of her hair from her delicate 
forehead with a careful hand. "And I know you'll be 
happy with the life we will give you. But when we 
reach your new parents, I'm not so sure I'll want 
to give you up." He sighed, then turned around, only 
to be faced with his father. His very angry father.
	The boy looked up into a furious face, whose 
eyebrows were knitted together in ire, and whose 
mouth was set in stone. It was a look he had come to 
know well. It meant trouble for him, especially because 
it foretold a sound beating and a long lecture 
afterwards. The boy's father dragged him away from 
the girl's sleeping body by the elbow, wrenching him 
to his feet abruptly and almost throwing him down on 
the pile of logs stacked a few feet away.
	"What are you trying to do? Blow our cover?" 
he asked fiercely. Then he walked over to the boy 
and cuffed him soundly on the head. The boy remained 
unmovingly silent, his ocean colored eyes slitted. 
"Well? Speak up, musuko!"
	"Iie, oto-san, I wasn't. I just . . . I 
just . . . I didn't want her to feel pain." His 
answer rewarded him with another blow from his 
father, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the 
pain momentarily.
	"You ‘didn't want her to feel pain?'" 
he mocked. "Oh, how sweet. Pray, tell me, musuko," 
he sneered, "what's next? Saving damsels in distress?" 
He made a rude sound in his throat and spit on the 
mossy ground near the boy, who stared at the spot a 
long while before answering.
	"Iie . . ." he started. "I wanted to--" 
	His father jerked him up by the collar of his 
shirt with a sinewy hand and held him up to his twisted 
malignant face. The boy's feet dangled uselessly in 
midair. 
	"We're assassins, if you didn't notice. We're 
not nice, and we don't help people. We take jobs from 
the highest bidder, and we do what's asked of us, no 
more. See to it that you remember that, musuko."
	"Hai," the boy answered submissively. His 
father dropped him suddenly, and he fell in a heap 
of limbs on the damp forest floor.
	"We'll make a man of you yet," his father 
said, then turned and walked away to another part 
of the camp. When he was out of sight, the boy cursed 
quietly after him, and looked at the girl. She lay 
on her side, clutching the blanket close to her flat 
chest. Her breath came in and out slowly as she slept 
through her partly open mouth. 
	Tenshi . . . he thought suddenly. She had shown 
him that there was something worth wanting to have 
for his own besides a day free from beatings. She 
reminded him why he wished his parents were dead, 
or worse. She made him wish he were a better person, 
that he could have the courage to say just once that 
he wouldn't participate in his parents' wrongdoings. 
He wanted to help her, to set her free. But, alas, 
he couldn't. He could only take the destiny that the 
fates had wrought for him, or so he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~@
 
	It was nightfall, with a sprinkling of stars 
in the dusky sky. The boy's father was forcing him 
to wake the girl, a task he greatly abhorred. Why 
couldn't he just leave her be? he wondered. She's 
gone through so much. . . . But then he reminded 
himself that she would remember none of her previous 
life, and that one day soon she would not even remember 
him, so it was useless to even try.
	He tiptoed softly over to her pallet and 
shook her sleeping form lightly. He kissed her cheek 
tenderly, whispering in her ear, "Rise and shine, 
tsuki-ko. We're going now." 
	She mumbled something about tengoku, and 
a tenshi in her dream, and finding Chiba Mamoru. 
Then she turned over and went back to sleep, her 
clasped hands pillowing her soft cheek. He recoiled 
at the sound of the name he had planned to use once 
he left his parents behind. How could she have known? 
He hadn't told her a thing . . . not about his search 
for tengoku, or the tenshi. . . . How could she have 
known? But she didn't know, he reasoned. It was just 
a yume, something to be forgotten once she awoke. 
His fears put to rest, he sat down on the displaced 
blanket beside her curled form and shook her again.
	"Tsuki-ko, we have to leave. My oto-san 
doesn't like to wait. . . ." 
	She did not respond. He sighed heavily, 
then bent over her and gingerly drew the blankets 
back. She shivered in her sleep and curled up tighter, 
her arms tearing at her shift in effort to get warm. 
He motioned for a stooped woman hiding behind a tree 
near the edge of camp to come forward. She warily made 
her way towards him, stopping ever so often and looking 
around shyly.
	"Okaa-san, would you roll up these blankets, 
onegai, after I take the tsuki-ko off of them?" 
	She nodded in response, then turned her head 
to the ground, her eyes downcast. "Where's your 
oto-san?" she asked in a hushed tone.
	"Up with the horses. Come," he motioned her 
closer, "I need you to help me with this right now."
 	As the woman stepped closer to the small 
girl and the boy kneeling next to her, the moonlight 
revealed that her left arm dangled uselessly at her 
side and her face was bruised. She would have been 
very beautiful indeed if her face were not so scarred 
(from the countless beatings the boy's father had 
given her) and if her hair was not streaked with 
silver. The boy looked up at her, his midnight eyes 
expressionless.
	"What did you do wrong this time, okaa-san?" 
he asked ruefully. 
	"I don't know." She stood up straighter 
and brushed her hair back with her good hand as if 
it were its true glossy raven color, long and thick, 
as it must have been long before the boy was born. 
"I think he did the job too messily, and I told 
him so. I only said it because it was true. He 
shouldn't have murdered them so brutally. And he 
could have hurt the child. You know how he gets in 
those bloody rages."
	The boy nodded sagely, then looked at the 
girl. Thank Kami-sama he didn't touch her, he thought.
Then he scooped her up carefully into his arms, 
resting her head against his chest. 
	"Thank Kami-sama . . ." he murmured. His 
mother picked up the pile of blankets and began to 
fold them up. Then, suddenly thinking better of her 
work, she took one of the smaller blankets, a dark 
and light blue weave of lambs wool, and draped it 
over the sleeping child in the boy's arms.
	"So she doesn't catch a chill . . ." 
his mother whispered to him, careful not to wake 
the girl nestled in his arms. At the touch of the 
blanket, the girl pulled it closer about her 
shoulders and nuzzled into the boy's chest lovingly, 
whispering "Mamoru-onii-san" over and over. The boy 
sighed and hoped his mother had not heard the girl. 
If she had, she would be furious, and he would most 
likely be beaten again. Such was his life, and so 
he had accepted it until he met (or rather kidnapped) 
the girl. Looking down at her peaceful face was all 
the incentive he needed to desert the assassin's 
encampment and take the long road to wherever the 
wind blew. Hai, he thought, that's what I'm going to 
do as soon as this tsuki-ko is gone from me. I'll 
not be made to play the fool for my parents's folly 
any longer.
	He strode off into the glade to where his 
father and the horses lie waiting. His mother followed 
with a light moccasined tread, weaving in and out of 
the pools of moonlight with the blankets she carried 
piled high in her arms. The boy nodded to his father, 
who took the girl from his arms momentarily while he 
climbed aboard.  She squirmed in her sleep, protesting 
the exchange, feeling the boy's father's rough arms 
uncomfortable and cold compared to the boy's soft 
warmth. But soon she was hoisted on the mount after 
him, where he supported her by the waist, and she 
snuggled back into the protective circle of his 
arms. He sighed once more. It was going to be very 
hard to give the girl up to the Shogun's family, he 
thought again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~@  

	"Faster, faster!" the boy urged his chestnut 
stallion as the girl riding pillion behind him 
shrieked with laughter. The horse galloped along 
the muddy track at breakneck speed to the new campsite 
on the far side of the heavily forested gorge. 
	They were only a day's ride away from the 
Shogun's palace, and the boy wanted to enjoy his brief 
time left with the girl, since she would be leaving 
to live her new life soon, a life which would not, 
and never could, concern him. So he took her riding, 
something he knew she loved beyond all other things. 
His passion for pleasing her was endless as evidenced 
by the countless ways he found to make her happy 
while he still could; he picked her flowers in the 
meadows, he helped her make a dress for herself out 
of the lamb's wool blanket he carried her in the 
first night they moved, he cooked for her the 
dishes that she said she liked best. His father 
and mother were very condescending the whole time, 
telling him that he was wasting his valuable 
energies on a waif he probably wouldn't even remember 
after she had gone. He said nothing to their jeers 
and rakish comments, only sighed and reminded himself 
that as soon as the girl was taken care of, he was 
leaving. 
	Another of the girl's shrieks brought him 
back from his somber thoughts. He couldn't see her 
because she was behind him, holding on tightly with 
her slim arms round his waist, but he knew she was 
having fun due to the happy sounds coming from her 
mouth as he raced the horse down the track to the 
campsite. 
	As they closed in to it, he slowed the horse 
to a leisurely trot and she said to him, "Domo 
arigato for the ride, onii-san. I know it's not 
very easy for you to get away from your oto-san 
to play with me . . . I hope I'm not being a 
burden. . . ." 
	He sighed heavily, then answered, "Iie, 
tsuki-ko. You're no burden, and no trouble at all. 
Stop thinking like that. You know I love riding as 
much as you do, and that's why I do it. That and 
the fact that it makes you so very happy." As he 
spoke, he couldn't see her smile dazzling the 
sunlit forest round them, but he could feel her 
arms tighten momentarily about his waist in response 
to his kind words.
	He trotted the roan horse into the shadow 
of a small copse of trees just outside the clearing 
that the camp was in, and swung down off the horse. 
The boy landed with a small thud, then turned and 
reached his arms out to help the girl down. She 
blushed slightly at the gesture, and jumped into 
his embrace. She landed in his arms, almost knocking 
him down with the force of her fall, and he laughed 
outright.
	"I do believe that you've done this one too 
many times!" he said joyously as he held her close.
	"Oh, no, I haven't done it enough!" she 
replied, then hugged him closer and whispered softly 
in his hear, "I had so much fun today . . . 
demo. . . ."
	"But what?" he whispered back. He could feel 
her hesitating with her answer, as if struggling with 
a decision.
	"I . . . I overheard your oto-san talking. 
He . . . he said I am to be the adopted musume of 
the Shogun."
	 The boy sighed heavily and, with great 
regret, pulled himself away from her arms. 
"Onegai . . . let's just enjoy ourselves while we 
can. . . . I don't want to think about you leaving 
me." His expressive eyes darkened to a midnight blue 
with grief. The girl took his hands in hers and looked 
earnestly into his face with her sky colored eyes.
	"Shh . . . don't . . . I understand." They 
continued looking at each other. Long moments passed.
	She's so brave, he thought. She's lost 
everything, and yet she's willing to move on. But, 
he reminded himself, that was partly my doing. Perhaps 
I should never have--
	"How long do I have?" she asked in a quiet 
voice, interrupting his thoughts.
	"A day. Maybe less," he said forlornly. He 
looked away, unable to face what he thought would 
be her utter devastation. A lonely tear dripped down 
his tanned cheek. She brushed it away with an 
efficient swipe.
	"Don't cry. It will all be all right, 
you'll see." He looked at her, surprised to find 
that she had a kind of determined air about her. 
He was awed at her strength. "And I'll find you 
again. No matter where you are. Watashi wa yakusoku."
	"Watashi wa yakusoku," he echoed. Then she 
laughed, the spritely sound filling the glade with 
sunshine. 
	"Don't be so gloomy! We do have a day, and 
I intend to make the most of it!" She laughed again, 
and this time he joined her, the mellow sound of his 
voice mingling with hers though the trees. "Now come 
on! We've still got a few hours until dark. . . ." 
She took hold of his hand and dragged him off into 
the shifting sunlight of the woods. 
	Through their happiness, they neglected to 
see the unmistakenable figure of the boy's father 
following them. The boy and the girl's joy together 
would be short lived indeed.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~@

	Creeping slowly on all fours after the two 
laughing children, a lurking shadow in the bushes 
watched the happiness between them with envy and 
scorn.
	"What is that ungrateful brat doing with 
the guttersnipe?" he muttered angrily. "They 
shouldn't be together. She'll poison him with her 
high and mighty ways . . . I must put an end to 
this," he resolved, the stood up slowly and brushed 
himself off. He ran a sinewed hand through his tousled 
sandy hair to rid it of the clinging autumn leaves 
and glared in the direction of his musuko and the 
Shogun's soon-to-be-musume.
	
	"Now come on, onii-san," she said, dragging 
him roughly by the wrist through the forested path. 
"I want to play hide and seek!" 
	The girl laughed as she dragged him closer to 
the green cover of the woods. He shook his head 
slowly and his straight ebony hair shifted from side 
to side on his head. He forced a wide smile in her 
direction, then wrenched free of her grasp. He ran 
backwards on light, bare feet, aware that she was 
deciding whether to follow him or not. 
	"I have a better idea, tsuki-ko!" he 
exclaimed. "Let's play tag!" he said, then ran off 
into the woods, his ringing laughter mocking her 
as she stood in place, watching him go. 
	"I'm going to get you, onii-san! Just you 
wait!" she yelled as she sprinted on her strong 
legs after him. She was only a few feet into the 
trees when she tripped over a protruding root and 
went down face first into a mud puddle. The murky 
brown water splashed all over her clothes and 
soaked her hair with filthy liquid and large 
pieces of dirt.
	"Itai!" she screamed as she felt something 
pull her to her feet before her mind could even 
register that she had fallen. She squeezed her eyes 
shut as tightly as she could against the dripping 
water and yelled, "Onii-san!" 
	A voice near her ear answered, "Hai, my 
lovely tsuki-ko?" as gentle hands turned her around 
and wiped her face off. 
	She tentatively opened one eye a slit and 
looked at her assailant. "Don't scare me like that, 
onii-san!" she berated.  

	The man, now standing straight as an arrow 
at ready (and just as explosive) against a tree to 
the children's far left, chose this time to interrupt 
them and attempt to take his son away.
	"Musuko!" he called, as he made himself known. 
He walked heavily over to the two, looking down with 
an angry glint in his deep blue eyes. "Why don't you 
come when I call you?" he asked maliciously.
	The boy looked at the ground and pushed a 
golden leaf around in the wet dirt with his foot. 
"Gomen nasai, oto-san. I didn't hear you--"
	"That's because you were out playing with 
this child!" He gestured to the girl with a muscled 
arm. "And you know you're not even fit to lick her 
shoes, boy!" he screamed. The girl took a small, 
timid step back from the boy's father, fear making 
her azure eyes go wide. She bit her tongue. This was 
a man to be reckoned with. 
	The boy blindly reached for the girl's hand 
and clasped it tightly within his own. She looked 
him in the eyes steadily, trying to convey some 
reassurance that she would always be there for him, 
no matter what his baka father did. He saw the 
sincerity shining in her perfect blue eyes and 
knew that it was time for him to break out of the 
endless cycle of fear he had lived in since 
birth.
	"Iie, I'm not, oto-san," he answered quietly. 
"But I am fit to be her onii-san!" 
	His father growled at the boy's unexpected 
remark. "Don't you mock me, musuko!" he said through 
clenched teeth as he prepared to hit his son.
	"I'll do anything I please!" the boy said, 
finally standing up for himself. "You know 
something . . . I've always wanted to say this. I 
wish you weren't my oto-san, you kniving, destructive 
man! You're everything I've ever hated, and I 
won't take this abuse from you anymore! Do you hear 
me?" he finished.
	"Hai, I hear you. The question is, have you 
been listening to me?" his father asked. He took a 
forceful step closer to the boy and the girl. "Well, 
if you haven't, let me tell you something, musuko. 
I run things around here. And if I say you aren't 
fit, then you aren't fit. Do you understand?" he bit 
out harshly. He seemed ready to just take them back 
to the camp site and leave if the boy would 
acknowledge his superiority. The boy didn't and 
it was then that he happened to glance down and 
see the couple's hands irrevocably intertwined, as 
if some twist of fate, some unchangeable destiny, 
would keep them together no matter what he did. 
His anger knew no limits as he reached out and 
yanked them apart, throwing them both off-balance 
from the force of the separation. His face twisted 
suddenly as a devious thought occurred to him. 
"But you don't understand, do you, musuko?" he said 
in a evil voice. The boy's eyes widened as he tried 
to fathom his father's thoughts. He knew something 
was about to happen, something completely unstoppable 
and final. "Do you?"
	The boy did not answer. Whether it was because 
he was rendered speechless with the feeling of doom, 
or otherwise, it was apparent that he was not going 
to favor his father's question with a reply. The 
girl, silent the whole time, spoke instead. "I 
understand," she answered the boy's father.
	He turned angrily on her, smacking her hard 
across the cheek with his left hand. "I didn't ask 
you!" he snarled, angry that she seemed to be mocking 
him and that she supported the boy in his decision 
to be insubordinate. The girl put a hand up to her 
cheek and held it against the red mark that had 
started to swell there from the force of the blow.
	The boy struck out immediately against his 
father at the sight of violence against the girl. 
"You promised never to hurt her!" the boy screamed as 
he ineffectually beat his fists against his father's 
well-muscled chest and arms. The man picked him up 
as if he were nothing more than a toothpick, and 
just as insignificant, and flung him down as hard 
as he could onto the ground, where he hit his head 
on a rough, jagged stone that lay at the base of a 
knarled tree. A thin line of blood trickled down 
the back of his head and through his hair; it made a 
startling contrast of brilliant crimson red against 
dark coal black.  
	The girl gasped as she saw him fall and went 
to lay herself beside his motionless body, screaming 
in agony, for after the boy had erased her memories, 
they had forged a bond so strong that she could feel 
part of his pain. She had barely even knelt down on 
the mat of dead leaves covering the forest floor when 
the man, uncaring, wrenched her away before she could 
touch his son and hoisted her over his shoulder.
	"Where are you taking me?" she demanded. "Put 
me down!" Her small clenched fists rained light blows 
against his back as he carried her away in the 
direction of their camp. "You can't mean to leave him 
there!" she protested as she saw that the boy was 
being left behind. 
	"Oh, I can, and I will. He's a worthless 
bastard to me now," he said. 
	The girl continued to squirm in his firm 
grasp as her anguished screams of, "Onii-san!" echoed 
through the summer woods.
	Alas, the unconscious boy could not heed her 
calls, for he still lay on the pine-needle-covered 
forest floor, alone and left to the ravenous wolves 
that would come with the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~@      
	
	It was the final twist of the knife for the 
girl. She no longer had anything to hope for with her 
beloved "onii-san" gone. He had been her pillar of 
strength against the nameless void that ate away at the 
edge of her consciousness; even though all her true 
memories of her parents and their deaths had gone, 
seemingly only wispy mirages and glimmers of darkness 
to her now, she remembered a certain fear from that 
time which the boy had dispelled with his presence. 
Now the dreams descended in strong stormy clouds, 
creating for her a life that was nothing more than 
an extension of her most terrifying nightmare: to be 
completely alone. 
	The boy's father and mother were incessant 
with their chatter of the joys of being a Shogun's 
daughter, now being completely open with the secret 
that they had previously kept from her since the boy's 
supposed untimely demise. She tried her best to ignore 
them in a way that would not anger the man greatly, 
because more often than not, he would go into one of 
his rages and beat the woman, a habit that frightened 
the girl to no end. Fortunately, she had found a 
small solace in her world of utter torment: a 
secret hiding place for herself away from the 
campsite, where she was free to let out her 
frustrations away from prying eyes until what 
she called the "unasareru koto" was over. It 
was a hollowed out hazel tree centered in a ring 
of oaks that provided the protection she needed. 
Whether it was the fact that the smell of the 
wood somehow reminded her of the boy, or just that 
she was away from the angry voices for once, the 
grove saved her sanity from the point of no return 
that she had been fast approaching.  
	Finally, the last day of her prolonged torture 
with the man and woman was over. As their horses 
approached the towering palace that lay just on 
the colorful horizon, the girl finally realized that 
she had a new life to begin. She understood why the 
boy had tried to please her so often and so much. She 
was truly going away to be something she didn't 
comprehend and didn't want to; however, it was 
pointless to even try to avoid what seemed like 
an inevitable destiny to her. 
	So she allowed herself to be dressed in 
a colorful traditional gown that flowed about her 
slim form and made graceful her slightly awkward 
body. She let the boy's mother brush and dress her 
hair with red ribbons and tie it into two knots, 
one on each side of her head, as her own mother 
used to, though she did not remember. And she 
forced herself to be silent all through the 
exchange: the cold farewells from the boy's family 
as they left on horseback with their money to ruin 
another person's life, and the warm welcoming smiles 
from the Shogun and his wife as they gazed upon 
their adopted daughter for the first time. 
	Really, my life won't be so bad, she told 
herself as her new parents lead her into their 
palace and up to the room that had been furnished 
for her. I'll forget him. Truly, I know I shall. 
	And she tried. Kami-sama knows she tried. 
But through it all, a part of her refused to let 
him go. No matter if she were riding horseback 
on her brand new mount, or eating a lavish supper 
with her adopted parents, his memory haunted her. 
She could not keep from feeling that it was her 
fault he stood up to his father and took that 
almost deadly blow to the head. And so her pure 
heart began to wither away with guilt. As the 
weeks went by, all she could do was cry herself 
to sleep at night, staring longingly at the moon, 
and walk as if a ghost during the day, ever 
watchful of the shadowy dark green rim of forest 
that lay just beyond the palace grounds.
	The Shogun and his wife tried their best 
to please her, but to no avail. It seemed as 
though she had become a completely different 
child than the one who had started out liking 
both them and their home. She remained in her 
room most of the time, and if she was not there, 
she was in the rose garden, her melancholy filling 
the place and spurring the roses' growth towards 
the heavens. They looked upon her as if she was 
an invalid, for a time, and after, when she did 
not respond to them at all, they left her to her 
own devices, thinking her partly mad from the 
separation with her birth parents. How wrong they 
were. She was but waiting for the boy to rescue her. 
	Once or twice, she thought that she heard 
him laughing, and turned joyously round, only to 
find that it was nothing but the wind rustling 
the autumn leaves, playing foolish tricks on her 
mind. Afterwards, she ended up crying herself to 
sleep wherever she was. Her new mother happened 
upon her one day when she had succumbed to her 
grief, and the girl was almost forced to explain 
her actions. . . .

	The Shogun's wife strolled leisurely 
through the summer gardens. The day was quite 
pleasant, with a few cumulus clouds in the azure 
sky and a sun that shone bright like an iridescent 
golden jewel set in the midst of a million tiny blue 
and white sapphires. 
	She swept up her flowing embroidered kimono 
to keep it from dirtying on the flagstones of the 
lush gardens. Her attending women followed close 
behind her, laughing and chattering amongst 
themselves and admiring the colorful foliage 
surrounding them. They stopped their walk to rest 
in an ornate wooden pavilion set up near the rose 
gardens that the girl often frequented. 
	The Shogun's wife stepped gingerly on the 
stairs, careful not to catch her slippered feet 
in the wide boards of the gazebo. The women's 
talk grew quiet as she raised one delicate white 
hand to silence them. She approached the benches 
warily, sensing that they were not alone in the 
pavilion. She pushed back her long, freely cascading 
blue hair with an impatient hand as it fell forward 
in her face, hiding the sleeping form of the girl 
from view. Just as she cleared the mass of shining 
blue locks away from her forehead, the girl stirred 
and unintentionally made herself noticed.
	Carefully, so as not to wake the girl, 
the Shogun's wife moved closer. She watched 
benevolently as her adopted musume curled up tighter 
in her sleep, trying to guard herself against her 
nightmares. At one point, it seemed as though she 
would cry out in fear and wake herself, but she 
bit her lip hard to stifle her own screams. The 
Shogun's wife, watching, began to understand why 
the girl was always so cut off, so detached from 
life, as she saw the girl's mouth move, making 
silent words that drifted on the errant breeze 
like tzaddik's fervent prayers towards the 
heavens.
	The other women started to fear the girl 
as they watched her, whispering to each other 
about how she slept so fitfully that she must 
be possessed. Her adopted mother, however, 
forced them to cease their slanderous gossip 
by glaring at them, then went over to the 
girl's sleeping form. She shook her gently, 
calling out the name that she had given her, 
Tsukino Usagi, because the day she had come 
there was a full moon, and she had seen the girl 
watching it intently, as if she truly expected 
the woman and the rabbit who lived on it to 
come and keep her company. 
	The girl started to twitch and kick 
violently, her dreams seeming to have gotten 
the best of her despite all her efforts. She 
screamed, and somehow launched herself off the 
bench and onto the hard wooden floor at the 
Shogun's wife's feet. She started awake 
immediately and looked up, only to see the 
curious brown eyes of her adopted mother staring 
back at her.
	"G . . . g . . . gomen nasai, Ikuko-mama. 
I . . . I didn't realize you had come with your 
women. . . . I'll just . . . leave you now . . ." 
she stuttered, trying to get herself out of a 
potentially very awkward situation.
	The Shogun's wife simply smiled at her 
blankly as she picked herself up and drew her 
plain black silk kimono closer about her shoulders. 
She started to walk hurriedly out of the gazebo 
when her adopted mother called, "Where do you 
think you're going, Usagi-chan?"
	The girl winced at the use of her new 
name. She didn't like it at all; to her, it seemed 
all wrong. "I thought you had given me leave to 
go where I wished. . . ."
	"After we sit and talk a while, musume." 
She sat down gracefully and arranged her beautiful 
kimono artfully about her. Then she patted a 
cushion on the bench opposite her own. The girl 
sighed.
	"As you wish, Ikuko-mama," she said as 
she tread lightly over and sat down on the 
proffered seat.
	"What do you dream of, Usagi-chan?" her 
adopted mother asked without introduction, wanting 
to know the matter that troubled her musume so.
	"N . . . nothing . . ." the girl 
answered. "I dream of . . . of nothing." She 
turned her head away and tried to ponder what 
the exact shade of white the day lilies blooming 
next to the bench would be called.
	"Shinji nai, Usagi-chan. Onegai, tell me 
what bothers you so that you cannot even sleep 
without thinking upon it." She took the girl's 
hands gently withing her own and looked earnestly 
into her face. "I really and truly only want to 
help you," she reassured.
	The girl glanced back at the woman in 
front of her. "I cannot tell you. I could never 
tell you." The woman opened her mouth to speak and 
protest the girl's answer, but closed it before 
any sound could escape. "Don't ask me again, 
onegai," she said, then stood up and bowed 
respectfully to her adopted mother, "for I will 
not let the secret escape me." She turned on the 
heel of her slippered foot and scurried out of 
the pavilion. The Shogun's wife stared after her, 
annoyed at their exchange, but more than ever 
afraid for her charge that whatever it was she 
kept inside would kill her in the end. 

	Two seasons passed, the snow fell, and 
the spring came, and still she waited for the 
boy to come. And she waited. But he never came, 
until one night, when the moon was full to a 
golden glow and the stars shone as bright as 
bright could be in the winter sky. . . .

	The girl sat up suddenly in her big 
canopied bed and pushed back the white silk 
sheets. She jumped off the high cherry-wood bed 
in one swoop and landed on the floor in a heap 
of long silver-blond hair and creamy dressing gown. 
She quickly picked herself up and walked stealthily 
over to the glass doors leading out onto a marble 
balcony. It was then that she heard the singing; 
a sweet, mellow sound, almost like the whispering 
wind came from outside. It sang a song that she 
understood, yet knew not how, for it was in such 
a different language from her own.

"Ahnyim tsimeerot visheereem ehiehrog, 
key ailehcha nafshee taahrog."*

	Caught up in the spell of the magical words, 
she froze in place, feeling them caress her lovingly. 
Onii-san . . . ? she wondered silently. Onii-san is 
that you? 
	
"Nafshee chamdah bitsayl yadehcha, 
ladaat kal-rahn sodehcha."**

	She placed her hands carefully on the brass 
knobs that held the glass doors in place and flung 
them open.  

"Mihday dahbree bichvodecha homeh lihbee 
ehl dodaycha."***

	The delicately woven gossamer curtains 
flew back into her room with the cool night wind, 
and the breeze blew her dress and hair behind her 
like a shimmering silver cape. Silhouetted against 
the luminous moon was the boy: grown tall and strong 
after all the months, and singing for her alone.

"Ahl cain ahdabayr bihcha nihchbahdot, 
vihshihmcha ahchabayd bihsheeray yihdeedot."****        

He finished the haunting melody. She could only 
stare in awe; the boy appeared to be just an ethereal 
spectre in the moonlight. He moved slowly towards her 
with tentative steps. He was unsure that she would 
even remember him after all the time that had passed. 
	"Tsuki-ko?" he asked hesitantly. "Is that 
you?" As he gazed upon her wan form, he was unsure 
if he had come to the right place.
	"Hai," she answered him steadily. "It's me, 
onii-san." With that, she ran towards him and 
flung herself into his arms. Her thin hands snaked 
around his neck and held him tightly. "I missed 
you so much . . . When I saw you lying on the 
ground and he dragged me away, I--" she started.
	"No more words, tsuki-ko. That time is 
dead," he stopped her. "Onegai . . . you must 
forget me," he said, trying to take the emotion 
out of his voice. The effort was killing him inside. 
All he wanted to do was reassure her, make 
everything all right. He had been away so long, and 
to be with her once more gave him the greatest 
joy, and the most infinite sorrow, knowing that 
it could never last.
	"Nani?" she asked, greatly confused. "Why?"
	"Because I am going away. . . ." He buried 
his face into her shoulder to hide his tears. "And 
because . . . you must . . . to be truly 
happy. . . ." He pulled her closer and breathed 
in the sweet scent of her cascading hair. Always 
lavender and lilac . . . he thought. She always 
smelled of a mixture of lavender and lilac. I 
must remember that, he urged himself. 
	"And what if I refuse?" she said haughtily. 
"You can't just come here and say that to me!" 
she whispered fiercely. "Not . . . not . . . not 
when I've waited so . . . so long for this 
moment. . . ." 
	"You can't mean that," he said, 
disbelieving, as he detached himself from her small, 
warm body. "You . . . you . . ." he stuttered.
	"I do," she said firmly. "I do mean that, 
in every way." She took a deep breath and steadied 
herself. "I know you don't want to see what I've 
become . . . how thin I've grown . . . and know 
that it was your doing. . . ." She turned away, 
and tipped her face to the glowing orb hanging low 
in the midsummer sky. 
	He could clearly see the outline of her 
emaciated body through the thin cotton of her 
night dress, and her eyes, once a glistening blue 
and full of life, shone dull with deep black rings 
around them accentuated by the darkness. She is too, 
too thin . . . he thought. He turned also, unable 
to bear it anymore, staring at the constellation 
Cassiopeia, her wide W sideways in the starry 
expanse of night. "Hai. You know me too well. 
It's true that I didn't. Boku o yuruse." He 
looked at her with wide eyes, blue and stormy, 
begging for her favor. He took her hands tenderly 
within his own, remembering the last time that 
they touched like that, when his father almost 
killed him. She looked down, unwilling to meet 
his gaze, for she knew it would be her undoing. 
Just a glance, and he could melt her resolve like 
the hot sun on cold winter snows.
	"Why have you come if you must go away 
again?" she asked, the pain evident in her face 
as she stared at their joined hands.
	He paused for a long moment, then answered 
in an almost inaudible whisper, "I had to come. I 
had to see you. I couldn't bear my life without 
you." He dropped her hands and slowly lifted her 
chin so he could see her eyes and know that she 
reciprocated what he had just confessed. Deep within 
him, he knew that if he didn't leave right then, 
he could never come back, never stay the same person 
and remain sane. It was the point of no return, 
and he was about to cross the line. His fingers 
drew tender lines down her thin, bony cheeks. She 
tried to turn her face away, but he held her head 
firmly in place, willing the moment never to end. 
Tears started to run down her cheeks, and he 
tenderly brushed them away with his thumbs. 
"Don't weep for me, tsuki-ko," he said, his voice 
cracking in heartwrenching pain, "don't . . . 
don't. . . ."
	She licked her parched lips, then whispered 
to him, "Promise me you won't forget. I know . . . 
I know. . . ." Her tears ran harder down her face 
and her body was wracked with the sobs she had 
tried to hold back for so long. "I know I 
must . . . somehow. . . ."
	"Shh . . . tsuki-ko. You . . . 
you. . . ." He couldn't finish his thought. 
The pain inside him was too great, and he knew 
that he had to leave her then and there, so he 
held her close and whispered, "Watashi wa 
yakusoku," quietly into her ear, then bounded 
away from her and into the misty false-dawn 
darkness.
	The girl reached after him as he went, 
knowing that it would be the last time she ever 
saw him, and repeated slowly to herself, 
"Watashi wa yakusoku." Then she hugged her thin 
night shift around her and walked dejectedly 
back inside her room, silently closing the 
balcony doors behind her. 

	It truly was the last time she ever saw 
him, for in the morning, she did not even remember 
that he had been there. The happiness that she had 
never known before, and forgot she ever missed, 
grew as abundant as the white daisies and red 
poppies in the fields surrounding the palace. 
The girl was content with her home, and she no 
longer moped about waiting for the boy, for his 
image was so dim in her memory that his absence 
could not even register in her mind.
	The Shogun and his wife rejoiced at their 
adopted daughter's recovery. They resumed their 
pampering of her and tried to be the best parents 
they could. And the girl loved them for it, truly 
she did. Only when the moon was full did she 
sometimes start awake at midnight and stare at the 
stars until dawn's first light, trying to recall 
something she seemed to have forgotten, something 
she knew had been very important to her. 
	And so the days passed, the years went 
by, and the girl, now named Usagi, grew up into a 
fine young woman, graceful and knowledgeable in 
academics as well as folklore. She never once 
wondered why she sometimes dreamt of a boy with 
midnight hair and deep blue eyes taking her hands 
and whispering that he promised always to remember 
her, until one day when her adopted mother said, 
"Watashi wa yakusoku," to her.
	It was then that the dreams really started, 
and her happy life came to an end, like so many 
perfect things must eventually. 









Translations, both Japanese (directly below) and Hebrew (right after the Japanese; each line of the song has a certain number of asterisks next to it so you can match them up easier):

Onii= older brother
Onegai= please
Demo= but
Hai= yes
Iie= no
Baka= stupid/idiot/fool
Watabashi no hime= I am the princess
Oto-san= father
Okaa-san= mother
Musuko= son
Musume= daughter
Tsuki-ko= moon-child
Yume= dream(s)
Tengoku= heaven
Tenshi= angel
Shinji nai= I don't believe it 
Boku o yuruse= please forgive me
Watashi wa yakusoku= I promise
Unasareru koto= bad dream/nightmare
Itai= ouch/that hurts



*[[Melodies I weave, songs I sweetly sing;
longing for your presence, to you I yearn to cling.]]

**[[In your shelter would my soul delight to dwell,
to grasp your mystery, captured by your spell.]]

***[[Whenever I speak of your glory so resplendent,
my heart yearns deeply for your love transcendent.]]

****[[Thus I glorify you in speech as in song,
declaring with my love: to you I do belong]] 

(Excerpt from "Hymn of Glory," Hebrew text 
transliteration, author unknown)