• PROLOGUE


    Ever since I was a little girl, I always was entranced by folktales. I always admired the hero of the story, and how he bravely smote a demon to save his true love.

    I reminisce about the time when those stories became a reality for me. Granted, it was at an unusual time, in an unusual place, but it was a strange, amazing and memorable happening nonetheless.

    I guess good things just come in small packages...


    CHAPTER 1

    It was late in the afternoon when I woke to my mother, who was calling my name rather loudly. “Megumi! Megumi!” she hollered, looking everywhere for me. I didn’t respond- what if I was in trouble?

    I quickly and quietly removed myself from my room, which had dark blue walls and traditional Japanese flooring. The walls and floor were covered in artwork, most of my favorite stories, and though one wall was calligraphy, it was ALL art to me.

    “Megumi!” I heard, and abruptly ran towards the noise, forgetting about it. “Yes, mother?” I asked, a little twinge of fear aching in my heart.

    Mother sensed this and laughed, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, I’m going out tonight, so make sure to watch the house while I am gone.”

    “When will you be back?” I asked suddenly, well aware of how rude it was.
    She smiled a little at me, and said, “Maybe in the early morning.”

    I stifled a gasp that nearly erupted from my throat. Mother was never out this late unless she was drinking. And with whom would she drink? “Mom, are you going on a date?” I blurted.

    “Yes, dear. With the most wonderful man.”

    A voice echoed in the hallway. “The only man worthy of those words is Megumi’s father. How come you never married? You would’ve actually had a family.” Grandma walked down the steps awkwardly, her cane held tight in her wrinkly grip. “You never did tell me what REALLY happened, now did you?”

    “He left me at the hospital alone, mother. It’s not my fault I had to move right after. I never saw the man again.” Mother leaned against a wall. “He said he was royalty, too, which means that he probably had business to do.”

    “Kimiko, you are disgraceful!” Grandma said, nearly whacking Mother with her cane. “You were the one who gave up luxurious life as an heir to a royal family as well. The Tsukigami Family has a long tradition of only marrying royal members, and now that you’re planning to soil the family tree with another man, you’re leaving poor Megumi as the only remaining heir.”

    “You’re not in charge of my decisions!” Mother yelled, walking towards the door. “I’m in charge of who I date. Not you.”

    “I can still disapprove of marriage.” Grandma didn’t get another word out of Mother as the door slammed.

    Grandma clicked her teeth. “Such a disgraceful child she is…Go check on the rice paddy, make sure Meiko isn’t swimming or pawing around in it,” Grandma said to me. “We want good rice. Afterwards, go and get your pajamas on and I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

    I nodded and bowed, then ran off to the yard. In the back a small river flows, and so I grow a small rice paddy. There are many wildflowers back there too, and I usually pick the nice ones and press them. Other flowers I will put in bouquets and sell. I try to make as much money as possible for college. I want to go to France or America.

    As always, my black kitty, Meiko, was swimming in the paddy. She wasn’t a cat at heart, or at least I didn’t think so. She was always played fetch when I crumpled a piece of paper, or produced short, loud, crisp “Meows” at the neighbors and passerby. It almost sounded like barking.

    She ‘barked’ at me and swam away as I stepped into the paddy, my bare toes sinking through the soil in the bottom. After deciding that I would scold her later, I checked the roots and bounty of each plant, making sure that bugs did not come and munch the rice up.

    After plucking out a withered and brown rice plant, I threw it aside, mourning the death of bounty. “Such promise… such beautiful, empty promise,” I mused, going back to work.

    Meiko ran back into the house, and I slowly followed after I finished, not intending to scold her anymore. I simply wanted to hear Grandma’s story for the night- she was an amazing storyteller because she made everything sound exciting, even to a sixteen-year-old girl.

    I entered the house after wiping my feet outside. I didn’t want to track mud, of course, because it was hard work to clean the Tatami floor of our house. Well, that and Grandma always threw a fuss about it.

    I ran up the stairs to the bedroom, where I closed the door and changed into my favorite pajamas- a blue and silver nightgown. I always loved this nightgown because it reminded me of the waxing moon against the sea.

    Not that I’ve seen the Moon against the Pacific or anything…

    Grandma, as if on cue, called me. It sounded so nice when she did though, because she did that often. She relied on me to help her around- mother was always too busy having a midlife crisis and Grandma had gone blind many years ago.

    I ran into her room, which was dark red and covered in large tapestries depicting Shinto Gods and legendary people. She sat in the center of the room with her black knit shawl draped over her shoulders and back, lighting incense with a match. “Goodness! Why can’t I light this darned thing?” she muttered aloud.

    “May I help you Grandmother?” I asked politely.

    “Certainly, Megumi,” she replied, as if she’d sensed I was watching. “Just be careful not to burn your pretty nightgown.”

    “Yes, Grandmother.” I never quite knew how she sensed it, but she was always aware of what I was doing, wearing or writing. It was strange, almost as if… she was psychic.

    I struck the match against the side of the box and lit the incense, gently blowing out the green flame. I hadn’t ever seen a green flame before- in fact the closest thing was the flames on the stove.

    “Alright, you did your job,” Grandma said. “So I’m going to tell an old folktale tonight. Would you be a dear and close the door?”

    I got up and shut the door softly, and made sure there wasn’t even a crack. I didn’t know why, but Grandma always said that the outside world should never hear through the cracks in the door. I believed her- nobody understood the folktales like I did.

    As I sat, she took out a fan and waved the candles on a nearby table out, creating a silent darkness pierced only by the moonlight that shone through the window. I held my breath, waiting to be submersed into the story.

    “A long time ago,” she said, “there was an old couple living in the countryside. In their old age they wanted a child. The family was fruitless in their efforts, but their belief in the Gods was strong.

    “One night, just as the sun set from the sky, the old woman and man said a prayer. ‘Please send us a child, no matter how small,’ the old woman said. And they began to hear the cry of a baby from the garden…”