The Twelve Kingdoms: Shadow of the Moon

further. She shook her head, cast them aside. She couldn't go back. She couldn't go forward. She just sat there and stared at the sword.
    After a while the blade began to throw off a faint but discernable glow. Youko opened her eyes wider. Slowly, the white outline of the sword emerged in the dark. Youko picked it up and held it out in front of her. The sword cast a brilliant glitter into the night. The flat of the double-edged blade was as wide as her fingers. She concentrated her attention on the curious colors dancing up and down its length.
    She gathered that it was an image of some sort being projected by the sword itself. At first, she thought it was herself, but realized that it was not. When she looked closer at the blade she saw it was the silhouette of a person, of somebody working.
    She heard a familiar sound. The high, clear sound of water, of a drop striking the surface of calm pool. As she concentrated, the projection from the sword came clearer. The notes sounded and the image drew into focus, like the ripples drawn across the mirrored surface of a pond gently subsiding.
    It was a woman, a woman busying about in a room.
    Youko grasped what she was looking at. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
    "Mom . . . . "
    It was true. The person she was seeing was her mother, and the room she was seeing was her own room. The wallpaper with the ivory pattern on a white background, the curtains arrayed with a design of small flowers. The patchwork comforter on her bed. The stuffed dolls on the bookshelf. On her desk, The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
    Her mother walked aimlessly around her room, touching things here and there. She went to pick up a book, flip through the pages, went to open a drawer, maybe to look inside, but then sat down on the bed and sighed.
    Mom . . . .
    Her mother looked tired. The gaunt expression on her face made Youko's chest hurt. Her mother really was worried about her. Two days had passed since Youko had left. Not once had she even been late for dinner without informing them of her whereabouts beforehand.
    One by one her mother picked up the stuffed dolls arranged along the edge of the bed and gently petted them. Then she lay back against the headboard, clasping the doll, and burst into muffled sobs.
    Youko couldn't help herself. "Mom!" she called out, as if she were there in the room with her.
    As soon as she spoke the scene ended. She suddenly came back to herself. Her eyes refocused. All she saw was the sword. The glittering light was gone, she could see nothing in the blade. The sound of falling water ceased.
    "What was that?"
    What in the world had she been looking at, she wondered. It looked so real. She again held out the sword in front of her. No matter how much she concentrated, the images did not reappear. Nor did she hear that sound of water.
    The sound of a falling drop of water.
    She remembered.
    It was the sound she had heard in her dreams. The dreams that had gone on for a month. That same high sound of falling water had accompanied them. Those dreams had become reality. But what about the vision she had just seen? The more she thought about it the less she understood it. She shook her head. No, she had seen her mother because she wanted so badly to go home.
    She looked off in the direction the monkey had vanished.
    You can't go back. It was a trap.
    If that was true, all her hopes were in vain. But it wasn't a trap. Surely, even if Keiki hadn't been able to help her, that didn't mean he had abandoned her.
    No . . . she hadn't clearly seen his face. She could have been mistaken. Maybe it wasn't him at all.
    "That must be it."
    It looked like Keiki, but it wasn't him. People around here had hair in all kinds of colors. She thought it was Keiki because he had blond hair, but she hadn't clearly seen his face. And now that she thought about it, the figure of the man she had seen was a little bit smaller than Keiki.
    "Yes, yes, that's what happened."
    It wasn't Keiki after all. Keiki simply wouldn't have deserted her like that. If she could only find Keiki, she was sure she could go home again.
    She firmly clenched the hilt of the sword. A series of sensations scurried down her spine.
    "Jouyuu?"
    Her body roused itself of its own accord. She undid the jacket wound around the sword and cast it aside, prepared herself. "What is it?" she asked, knowing there would be no answer, her eyes scanning the surroundings. Her pulse raced.
    From ahead of her came the dry whush of something