Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

Andria felt pressingly uncomfortable with the presence of so many unfamiliar, unfriendly faces around her. Six men and women dressed in black robes of state stood in an off-putting cluster by the door. Andria sat, quite ignored, in a desk near the back of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing. She tried to listen in as the men and women muttered discriminately amongst themselves, but as they made it a point of conversing in rapid, complicated Japanese, Andria was at a disadvantage.

Andria was consumed by an unexpected flood of relief when Kazi burst through the doors. “Andria,” he called to her warmly. She smiled, a little nervous. As Kazi closed the distance between them, the other men and women following sluggishly in his wake, he spoke. “Today,” he announced grandly, “we begin your training.”Andria rose from her seat as the small crowd approached her. “First, I will introduce your instructors. This,” he began, motioning to a slender, lanky man with glasses, “is Lord Tsuchino. He will be teaching you Japanese.” Lord Tsuchino bowed, but said nothing. “This,” Kazi said as he gestured towards an extremely young-looking woman with a round, unpleasant face and long, straight black hair, “is Lord Misaki, my daughter.” Misaki struggled to suppress a grimace, but gave Andria a curt bow. “She will be teaching you basic combat.”

Andria was then introduced to four other instructors in subjects including Flight, History, Politics, and Protocol. The only somewhat friendly-looking one among them was a slender, graceful woman who was introduced to her as Lord Mayumi. Mayumi had swept her a low curtsey, and then clumsily shook her hand, which sparked a series of amused chuckles. “I’ve always wanted to try it,” she had said to Andria with a wink.

Introductions completed, Kazi waved his hand, dismissing all but Mayumi. “The majority of your training,” Kazi explained as he and Mayumi both took their seats at the table across from Andria, “Will take place under my watch. I want to ensure that you are progressing appropriately. As my heir, I need to be certain that your education is thorough.”

Andria nodded.

“This morning,” he continued, “will be something like an introductory course.” From his robes, Kazi withdrew a small object, which Andria quickly recognized. He absently began fidgeting with it as he spoke. “Do you know what this is?” he asked Andria, noticing the way she watched his hands.

Andria shrugged. What could she say? “It was my mother’s,” Andria recalled from what Yuta had told her about it.

Kazi nodded affirmation. “And?” he pressed.

“And,” she continued, “it sends you back in time?” Her last words were uncertain.

“Wrong,” Kazi stated with a knowing smile. “This Stone,” Kazi said with an air of curiosity, “was given to your mother directly by the gods. It took her years to figure out the secret of its powers.”

Andria was leaning forward in her chair, mesmerized by the mystery of the object in question. “Which are?” she ventured.

Kazi’s lips twisted into a smile. “Nothing,” he whispered ominously.

“Nothing?” Andria pressed, eyebrows raised. She recalled quite vividly how the Stone had catalyzed Andria and Yuta’s journeys both backward and forward in time.

“Nothing,” he repeated with a nod. “While Sakura was coming into her abilities,” he explained casually, leaning back in his chair, “she clung to the belief that the source of her control over her powers was this Stone. You see, until she rediscovered it, for years her powers were unpredictable, unstable. After she found it again, however, she was able to control her transformations and hone her more unique abilities with easier precision. She wore it in a pouch around her neck for decades. In time, however, she made the important realization that the Stone held no real power. It was only because she believed that it helped her that it gave her the confidence to use her powers. Luckily, however, we can use Sakura’s experience and move directly forward.”

Andria looked helplessly confused. “Whatever you did that sent you back in time,” Kazi explained with mild admiration, “had nothing to do with this Stone, and everything to do with the god-given powers you so obviously inherited.”

Andria seemed uncomfortable, clinging to his words like a starving man to a cheeseburger. “What other,” she hesitated, “powers do you think I might have?”

Kazi leaned forward inquisitively, as though leaning in to work on a difficult puzzle, and began drumming the desk with his fingers as he contemplated this question. “It’s difficult to say,” he finally admitted. “Sakura had many unique gifts, but you’re only half Sakura. It’s possible, likely even, that your human chromosomes have diluted your mother’s genes considerably.”

Andria frowned. So did Kazi, but only in remembering that Sakura had taken a second, human companion after abandoning him. It made his throat tighten and blood rush uncomfortably to his face. It sickened him.

“Your gifts,” Kazi continued, “will be revealed in time; however, before we go any further, one specific ability must be determined.”

“What?” Andria asked eagerly, looking from Kazi’s scarred, serious face to Mayumi’s wrinkle-marked smile of excitement.

“Have you yet,” Kazi asked cautiously, “been able to change Forms?”

“What?” Andria asked, somewhat surprised. “Well, no,” she stammered. “Not yet.”

“You see,” Kazi explained carefully, “Sakura’s unique contribution to the Race was giving each and every Dragon the ability to change Forms, as the gods had originally enabled only her to do. This means that if you do indeed belong to the Race, you must also possess this ability.”

“But,” Andria stammered nervously, tucking a stray lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear, “but how? How do I,” she paused, “change?”

Mayumi smiled and said cheerily, “Here.” She extended an eager hand to Andria and rose from her chair. Andria stood reluctantly and took Mayumi’s outstretched hand. Mayumi lead Andria a short distance away, while Kazi remained seated, observing. Softly, sweetly, Mayumi leaned in close to Andria’s ear and whispered instructively, “every Dragon is different, so this may take you many tries. Remember to be patient.”

Andria nodded nervously. “Will it hurt?” she asked, embarrassed for being scared. Andria couldn’t help remembering what Yuta had looked like all the times he had transformed in front of her. Not only was there always a pained expression on his face, but she could always hear the sickening cracks and pops as his bones broke and snapped into new places.

Mayumi frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry to say that it does. The first time may seem quite overwhelming, but it does become less painful as your body grows used to the process. Try finding a place in your mind,” she suggested sweetly, crooning like a lullaby carried on the wind, “someplace calm, familiar, peaceful. Try to hide there until it’s over.”

Andria was almost shaking with nerves and apprehension, but she kept herself still, steady, and nodded for Mayumi to continue.

“First,” Mayumi instructed, “your mind must reach a state of emptiness. When I say so, try simply to think of nothing, no wandering thoughts, no images, just blackness.” Mayumi’s voice was so calming, so soothing and serene that Andria was growing sleepy standing up. “That’s all you have to do, only for a few seconds. When the pain starts, try to block it out. Abandon the blackness and retreat into your safe place.”

Mayumi stared patiently at Andria, who had her eyes squeezed shut. Okay, she thought, first I need a safe place. Without effort, without searching, her mind went to the top of the mountain where Yuta had kissed her, beneath the stars, wrapped in his arms. She could easily remember the clean, warm scent of his shirt, the feel of the brisk evening wind on her face, the sound of Yuta’s heartbeat as her head rested against his broad chest. Sanctuary.

“Are you ready?” Mayumi whispered.

Andria gulped, keeping her eyes tightly closed.

“Now,” Mayumi’s voice crooned softly, “clear your mind.”

 

After a long, silent moment, Andria opened her eyes, a frown of disappointment etched across her lovely face. She found Mayumi standing several yards away, staring with a dumbfounded expression. Kazi had risen from his chair, but leaned, equally baffled-looking, upon the desk for support.

“What?” Andria asked. She was shocked, somewhat, by the sound of her voice, which was somehow altered, more melodic.

“Wonderful,” Mayumi breathed. Her mouth stretched into a broad, delighted smile. “Simply wonderful,” she marveled.

“What?” Andria insisted again, more forcefully, confused by both the strangeness of her own voice as well as Mayumi’s odd reaction.

Then, a glimmer on the floor caught her attention. Andria looked down at the smooth, polished stone floor and gasped. Staring up at her, reflected brilliantly with near-mirror-like quality, was a Dragon.

Shocked and frightened, Andria could only stare dumbfounded at the image of the Dragon peering up at her with the same dumbfounded expression. Its face was covered in brilliant, shining gold scales. A blonde mane of lion-esk hair flowed magnificently from her scalp. Unable to tear her eyes from her own reflection, Andria reached up and touched her face. She heard the sound of claws scraping something metallic, but was able to feel nothing.

Andria had done it. Somehow, she had done it. She had transformed. There had been no pain, none of the agony Mayumi had spoken of. Andria hadn’t even been fully aware that it had happened. Yet…wow.

Andria’s head began spinning with a million uncontrollable thoughts. It was true. It was all true. She was, indeed a Dragon. Just look at her!

Tentatively, Andria tested her new body. She stood on four shaky legs, which became more solid after a short instance. Quickly, Andria became aware of a long, powerful tail protruding from her slender backside. Trying it out, she swished it playfully across the floor, and was pleased to find a tuft of blonde hair at the end of the graceful, scaly appendage. She flexed her claws against the stone, noting how she only possessed three talons on each, a rather odd sensation for one who was so very used to having five fingers. On the end of each talon was a thick, pointed nail, sharp as a blade and hard as diamond. When she scraped them against the floor, they left tiny, slender rivets in the stone.

With her tongue, she could feel the jagged points of several dangerous fangs where her teeth had once been. The two longest, the two that used to be her canines, protruded long and threatening from her mouth. Andria shook her head and felt the weight of her mane move gracefully from side to side.

Then, remembering something interval about the Dragon persona, Andria experimented. With force and confidence, Andria arched her back, and from the blades of her shoulders burst forth two enormous wings. Andria nearly squealed with delight, but somehow could only manage to squeak feebly, “I have wings.”

 

The month that followed her first transformation was quite busy, to say the least. Andria was required to spend all day every day with instructors, learning about the Race, her powers, and her new office.

“As my heir,” Kazi had told her one morning during a Protocol lesson, “you will become the face of our government. Each and every Dragon in Eastern Asia will look to you for guidance, strength, and justice.”

“How many are there?” Andria had asked curiously.

Kazi scratched his bald head in thought and finally answered, “Upon last census, 24,000.”

24,000 Dragons in her kingdom. 24,000 well-beings she would now be responsible for. 24,000 subjects to represent and try endlessly to please. The notion was overwhelming.

Kazi often invited Andria to sit in on citizen hearings in the Grand Hall. Andria was expected to take notes and quietly observe while Kazi delivered firm, but fair judgment and justice to the citizens that appeared before him. Some were criminals, some normal citizens raising complaints to the Assembly, while others paid homage in the form of money or rare historical objects of value. She wore always, during hearings and lessons, black robes of state identical to those Kazi and the Lords wore, and was always with at least one of them, excluding the evenings, when she went to bed.

Andria’s favorite lesson, by far, was flight training. This took place in the Grand Hall every other day for two hours. Mayumi swore Andria was a natural, and after the first week, in which she learned the ropes, the lessons had devolved into improvisational mid-air play time.

At first, she had absolutely loathed Combat training. The whole lesson consisted of Misaki wailing on Andria until she was either out cold or unable to move. As the muscles on her Dragon body began to build and become more powerful, however, technique quickly followed until she was near unbeatable. Kazi and Mayumi marveled at the quickness with which she struck, the force behind her blows, and the grace with which she used her tail and wings to help her perform complicated maneuvers. “She moves like Sakura,” Kazi had let slip one time. Andria had not been able to miss the look of wonder, admiration, and longing that had crossed his face.

One day, a month into her training, Andria, Kazi and Misaki were mid-way through a Combat lesson in one of Fuji’s lower chambers.

“You’re improving,” Kazi said proudly as Andria nursed a welt forming on the side of her head. Misaki stood close-by, arms crossed in front of her, a malicious smile on her face.

Andria scoffed at this ill-deserved praise. “You’re lying with a straight face.”

“No!” Kazi insisted with a smile, “No, you’re doing better.”

“If you can really classify having your a*s kicked over a longer period of time as an improvement,” Misaki interjected unpleasantly. “It’s still an a*s-kicking, if you ask me.”

Kazi threw Misaki a warning glare, which she responded to by rolling her eyes and skulking to the far end of the room.

“Why are we doing this in human Form?” Andria asked as she picked herself up off the ground. “I could beat her if we were fighting as Dragons,” Andria muttered quietly, glancing back at the rueful Misaki who was busying herself by rolling up the blood-spattered practice mats.

“Because we already know you can beat all of the instructors in Dragon Form.”

“Haven’t beaten you, yet,” Andria grinned menacingly.

Kazi laughed. “That’s because I’m not stupid. Do you remember rule number one?”

“’Do not actively engage a fellow Dragon unless it is either recreational or absolutely necessary,’” Andria recited boastfully.

“And…?” Kazi pressed expectantly.

“And, if you must resort to combat,” Andria continued, “only do so if it can be determined within reason that your opponent is equally matched.”

“Good,” said Kazi, smiling wryly.

“So, you’re saying you think we’re unequally matched?”

“Exactly.”

“You think you can beat me?” she teased.

“Hell no,” Kazi responded with a scoff. “I’m old. You’d kick my a*s.”

That night, Andria lay sore and unmoving in her bed. She had obtained several new bruises during Combat training. One shone large and purple across her face, which had resulted from a late kick that had caught her off guard. If she was improving, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Misaki was merciless, but Kazi insisted it was better that way. Misaki wouldn’t baby her or give her praise where it wasn’t deserved. Andria had to work for every kick, every punch, every shot she took, and little by little, she was able to last longer before Misaki eventually laid her flat.

Misaki’s vendetta against Andria was no secret. Misaki was next in line for the throne, Kazi had explained, until Andria had come along. Because Sakura had been the original ruler, Kazi only king by marriage, as her child, Andria was the superseding heir. Andria kind of understood where Misaki might be pissed, but all the same, now that she had it, Andria wasn’t going to relinquish her claim on the throne. This determination was only asserted by the near-factual belief that if Misaki were to take the throne, she would become an absolute tyrant.

Andria heard a sharp rap on the door and lazily called, “Come in.”

Kazi opened the door and took a step inside before closing it behind him. “I’m not intruding, am I?” he asked upon noticing how Andria made no attempt to move from her bed.

“No,” Andria breathed.

Kazi crossed the room and extended a hand to Andria. She took it and allowed Kazi to hoist her into a sitting position, flinching from the soreness as her muscles contracted with the effort.

“We need to talk,” Kazi said somberly, taking a seat on the bed beside her.

Andria gave him a curious, quizzical look. “Okay?” she replied.

“It’s about Yuta Odashima,” he began.

As though someone had taken a needle and pumped her heart full of adrenaline, Andria became instantly alert. Her heart began to throb wildly in anticipation of news about Yuta. No one had willingly spoken his name around her since her very first evening there. It seemed to be taboo. Every time she inquired about him to anyone, they would only say that he was being held for further questioning.

“It has been decided,” Kazi said delicately, “that the evidence against Yuta is overwhelming. He has been proven guilty of all charges,” he emphasized, watching Andria’s face begin to melt into an expression of wide-eyed disbelief. “It has been decided,” Kazi struggled to continue, knowing that a tantrum of monstrous proportions was likely to ensue, “that Yuta must be put to death.”

Kazi braced himself for anger, for objection, even for violence. What he was unable to brace himself for, however, was her silence. Andria quickly composed herself, looked directly at him, and calmly demanded, “When was this decided?”

“Last night.”

“And why was I not invited?” Her words were steady, composed, but her gaze was cold and accusatory.

“Because,” Kazi explained, though feeling strongly that he needn’t, “you are too close to the situation to be able to deliver a fair judgment.”

“I see,” she nodded quietly, allowing a single tear to escape from her stoic eyes.

Kazi looked away so as to remain to appear unmoved. “Yuta has expressly requested,” Kazi added, “that you not be present when his sentence is carried out.”

Andria nodded vigorously, closing her eyes and turning her head from him.

Kazi had admittedly expected more of a reaction. This composed behavior was preferable, of course, but terribly unsettling. He had to admit, and he did so with pride, that she was behaving like a princess, with grace and dignity.

Concluding, after a moment of long silence, that nothing more need be said, Kazi stood up. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, but stopped himself mid-way. A part of him wanted to console her, but then he remembered that she was grieving the loss of his sworn enemy. He withdrew his hand.

As he turned to leave, Andria called after him, “Can I see him?” Kazi stopped and looked back. “Before?” she added hesitantly. She did not look at him, her head turned so that her hair shielded most of her face from Kazi’s judgmental gaze.

“Yes,” Kazi grudgingly assented, though every fiber within his being willed him to scream, No! Yuta Odashima was not worth her pity or her concern. If only Kazi could make her see the error of Yuta’s ways, show her how wrong she was to care for him.

It will all be over soon, Kazi consoled himself, slipping quietly into the hallway. He would have to tolerate her grief for some time, he imagined, but in the end, Yuta would be dead and Andria would still be his heir and apprentice. He would still be her mentor and confidant, or so he was hopeful. If she hadn’t verbally abused him just then, when he had told her Yuta was going to die by his order, he doubted there was much he could do to break the bond that was now between them. Andria might not have been fully aware of it then, but she was his. Andria belonged to Kazi, and he belonged to her.