I ran through the dark forest, branches reaching for my long hair, my heart hammering in my chest. This place was cursed. Yokai and Onryō stalked between the tangle of trees and maze of roots bursting out of the broken, folded ground.
"Mitsuko-hime," I called, my words swallowed by the dark trees. "Please, Mitsuko-hime, don't do this. I'm sorry."
Everything had gone so wrong today. It was supposed to be magical. I had done it. I had contacted the great kami Hangetsu, and I had been transformed beyond a mere woman. A cock. I had done it. I had achieved what we needed to be together. My princess and I could be together.
Branches tore at my red hakama and white haori. I gasped, one of my red ribbons ripped out of my black hair. My heart thudded more and more as I pressed through the woods, following my heart, letting it lead me through this place of death, Jigoku bleeding into the real world.
She was close. My princess.
I burst past the large rock and stopped. I gazed at the mighty pine tree rising before me. My eyes widened in grief at what hung from its limb. I clutched my hands to my breasts, pressing my haori and kimono tight against my bosom as I fell to my knees.
"No," I cried out in grief and regret. "No, Ōjo-sama!" Tears fell from my eyes as shame overwhelmed me. I had failed her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
500 years later...
Yoshiko Stenet walked down the street towards her school, the Redwood Academy, the warm, California sun shining down on her glossy-black hair. She had her mother's hair, the fine, blue-black silk of the Japanese, spilling about her shoulders and framing her face. It was round, the skin a light-olive, her cheekbones delicate. But it was her eyes that were most unusual. Caucasian eyes, gifts from her father's family along with her buxom chest. Her eyes were round and blue, giving her face an even more exotic cast.
Earbuds in, she nodded her head to the beat of K-Pop playing from her phone, streaming off a Pandora station as she walked down the street. She loved Korean pop music even if she couldn't understand the words. It was so upbeat and cheery most of the times, giving her a light step. Girls Generation played, a chorus of eleven or more members of the idol group singing.
Her shoes smacked on the sidewalk as she shuffled along to the beat of the song. Listening to the music made going to school slightly bearable. She really, really didn't want to go to school today, and she was trying not to think of the reason, losing herself to her music.
The half-Japanese schoolgirl, just turned sixteen before the start of term a month ago, let her head bob and her feet almost skip, her black skirt swirling about creamy-olive thighs, and long, loose socks pulled up to her knees like many of her favorite Korean pop idols would wear. Lost to her music, she didn't hear the girl crying out her name from behind.
Yoshiko jumped when her best friend burst from behind her and darted in front of Yoshiko, forcing her to stop and yank out her earbuds, her heart thudding. "Lori," groaned Yoshiko. "Don't do that."
"I called your name, Yoshiko," Lori answered, a big smile on her lips, her red curls dancing about her head as she walked backwards. Lori was a head taller than Yoshiko, who was used to being one of the shortest girls wherever she went. "And you didn't hear me."
"Sorry," Yoshiko answered, wrapping up her earbuds. She resisted the urge to give her friend a bow like her mother always did when greeting someone.
"Were you just going to keep walking without me?" Lori asked. "Good thing I was paying attention, or you would have reached school while I was still waiting."
