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Beyond the Looking Glass	By : shinigamiinochi Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1983 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Beyond the Looking Glass

Chapter 3: Dolls

Part 4
　

June 8th, 2066
　

His entire life, Heero had felt different. He supposed that all teenagers felt that way, that they didn't fit in, didn't belong, but he had felt that way since he had been little. He had always felt like there was this great, gaping hole in his life. He had tried to fill that hole with so many things, games and sports and reading, but nothing was quite able to. He had liked tinkering around with computers at first and his father had had hopes that he would become interested in engineering, but Heero hated new things. Every time some new piece of technology came out, he felt resentful and too frustrated to start from scratch.

The Yuy family had existed in Nasue ever since the village had first been founded, or so his uncle Howard had claimed. Heero supposed it was true, since many of the older families seemed to highly respect him and his relatives even though they were just simple bakers and he had often wondered what the family business used to be back then, if they had always been bakers or had just fallen into it. He was a failure at that, too. His parents had tried to teach him the business from a young age, but he had been terrible at everything he had tried to bake. He hadn't had much interest in it, either, although he had felt guilty he wouldn't be carrying on the family tradition.

Even in his own skin, Heero had felt uncomfortable, looking towards the future with fear. He didn't want to go to college so far away from home, and he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He was an avid studier and had good grades in all of his classes, but no real interests, especially not like his friends who clung to specific things with such passion. It made him feel empty inside, like there was something inside of him that he had failed to find after seventeen years, some spark, and had hoped fervently that he would find it soon and his life would finally, finally start.

But it still hadn't. His parents and his uncle had tried hard to find colleges for him to apply to, to find something he might be interested in, but they all felt the same to him. For a very long time, he had viewed his future as something that just didn't matter. He felt like he had spent his life waiting for something to click inside of his head, for something to come along and activate him, like a newly created piece of machinery. His parents had thought he was depressed, and Heero supposed that was true, if this was what depression felt like, but no amount of therapy or medication had helped.

The times when Heero felt the most natural, the happiest, were in his dreams. He knew that these feelings were just manufactured by his own subconscious, and he never really remembered what he dreamt about, only that when he awoke, he felt like he wasn't waking up at all. He felt like he was falling asleep into his life and what he dreamed about was the real thing, the right thing, if only he could remember. He wasn't lazy like his friends thought. He slept as much as he could because he just liked his dreams more than reality.

Then one night a year ago, his father was driving him and his mother home from a movie. They had gotten onto the bridge that spanned over the Dragonfly Pond, a stupid name since it was actually a small lake, when a drunk driver had crashed into the side of the car. His mother had been killed by the impact. Heero should have been killed also, when the other driver had pinned the car to the guard fence, if that fence hadn't been taken down for construction. Their car had been pushed off the bridge and into the lake. Later, the police would tell him that his father had been pinned down and drowned while he had been unconscious, that the only thing that had saved Heero was that his side of the car had struck the edge of what was left of the guard fence, making his window crack, and the impact of hitting the water had only made that damage worse. That, and he hadn't gotten knocked out like his father had.

Heero remembered very little about that accident. He remembered falling into darkness, and a voice that he had taken for his mother's telling him not to fall asleep, to not leave them, but that was of course impossible. He vaguely remembered a voice pleading that they didn't want to die, but that had probably been his own. It had been that voice telling him not to sleep that had kept him awake enough to break open the damaged window and swim to the surface. Beyond that, it was the darkness and the cold that he remembered most, and the terrible pain as the glass had slashed up arms, and a strange pain around his neck. His doctors later told him that that pain was from the seatbelt twisting around his throat, but as he had swam, it had strangely disappeared.

After that, all of his dreams had turned into nightmares. Whatever he had dreamed before, he remembered these. It was always the same nightmare, drifting in that black, icy water, the glass cutting through his skin as something choked him, screaming for his parents as that voice burrowed into his head, a voice that he had mistaken for his mother, telling him that they didn't want to die.

Now, standing in a hallways that seemed filled with rooms, a hallway in a mansion that had every likelihood of being his tomb, with the image of the same boy whose ghost was trying to kill them in his head, Heero felt like he was dreaming again. He didn't feel like this was real, it felt too real, the way his dreams always did. He and his friends were being toyed with like cattle, but he was the only one not terrified. He was scared, he wasn't suicidal, but also felt... he wasn't even sure. Engaged, alive... The prospect of seeing that spirit again did not frighten him. He wanted to see him again. He knew how fucked up that was. He never felt affection for anyone like that, this... connection, and it was to someone who wasn't even alive. Whatever was happening to him... were these his own feelings, or was Duo or this place manipulating him somehow?

The hallway seemed almost endless, their flashlights not even reaching an end to the row of doors, so the group of friends went methodically down the row of rooms, trying one door, then another. Zechs tried to open the first door on the left side of the hallway, but the door was so warped, it wouldn't budge no matter how hard he pushed on it. A lot of the doors were similar, too degraded to open or something was blocking the way, although the cloth and wood were so rotted that they could glimpse into most of the rooms enough to see the vague shapes of the rooms and a few details; tatami that had once been immaculate but were now as rotten as the doors, turned a dingy, disgusting looking brown by time.

Wufei got lucky at the third door on the right side of the hallway. The door was in better shape than the previous ones and slid open with little effort. Given the sheer number of doors in this hallway, Relena had been expecting a small, single room, perhaps a place that had been used for storage or for servants. Instead, that one, single door opened to reveal a sort of maze of further rooms. None of the rooms were large, but there were four of them connected by nothing more than a sliding door to each and with each of them being perfect clones of each other.

Each room had space for a futon, a closet, some cabinets and dressers, and various decorations ranging from a few dilapidated scrolls pinned to the walls to lanterns and the furthest room in the back even had an old koto that, in its time, would have been quite beautiful. They each stood in one of the rooms with Zechs staying out in the hallway, keeping an eye out for any trouble, not that he could do anything if that spirit showed up again, but he also didn't like the shape of the room. He couldn't quite explain it, but the twisting formation of the maze of small rooms made his feel claustrophobic. In the third room, Heero got on his knees and opened up a small cabinet.

Inside was an ornate kogai comb made of blackened ceramic and tortoiseshell with tiny white and gold flowers painted on it. It had held up better than the doors of the rooms and the tatami mats that covered the floor, but Heero still hesitated to touch it, knowing that at one point in time, it had adorned some lady's hair.

"What are these?" Relena pondered in the room next to Heero's, lightly touching the koto on the floor, plucking one string with an incredible delicacy, the note so out of tune and garish that it was almost offensive to hear, "Servant's quarters?"

"No," Heero responded, gaining the attention of Trowa and Quatre in the front two rooms, Trowa touching an old obi with the same delicacy that Relena had touched the koto while his lover looked through the closet in the first room. The Japanese teenager dared to pick up the comb, illuminating it with his flashlight so Relena could see, "Servants wouldn't have the money for these sort of things, but these rooms are also too small for members of the Matsuei family. I bet these were rooms meant for their guests or maybe lower members of the family. A single family probably lived in each room, which is why they are segmented into smaller rooms like this," he theorized.

"If this entire hallway is just guest rooms," Trowa mused, putting the obi down, "I wonder just how many rooms this place has. Where did the main family and the servants all sleep? Just how long will it take for all of us to explore this place? It's no wonder why there's never been successful investigation of this place any time someone goes missing in here. Without a map, it's insanity to try to find anyone in here without getting lost yourself."

Heero wondered at that himself as he placed the comb back into the cabinet. Just how many people who had gone missing in this place had been killed by the spirits here? Did they even die that way, or did they all just get trapped or lost? How could they hope to get any information about something that had happened hundreds of years ago when it this entire place was essentially built like a maze with no exit?

Heero moved on to a set of ornate dressers to rummage through. On top of it was a round hand mirror with a red tassel tied to it's handle. He picked up it gently, certain that it had to be damage or especially filthy after all these decades, but when he looked into it, his own reflection met his eyes clearly. The small mirror wasn't cracked. It didn't even have the deep layers of dust that everything else in this place had. It, like all of the other mirrors Heero had seen so far, was pristine and perfect, as though it's owner had placed it there that very day, instead of two hundred years ago.

That thought sent a deep chill crawling down his spine. Everything here looked rotten and filthy, haunted by age and stillness. Everything, except for the mirrors. It was like time had let them be, or it had been scared off by something. None of the mirrors he had seen in this place had a speck of dust on them or a single crack, their flat, reflective surfaces like stagnant water.

'This is where he lives,' Heero thought, touching that perfect surface lightly with his fingers, 'Inside the mirrors... that's where I keep seeing him.'

He lifted up the mirror in hope that he might see a glimpse of Duo somehow, but all he could see was the rest of the room behind him, illuminated by his friends' flashlights; a shoji screen that was badly eaten away, the closet slightly ajar, a decorative wall scroll that was now illegible, and a tiny doll laying on the floor behind him with a white face, black hair, and red kimono that bulged out at it's stomach, either by some sort of design to make the doll look chubby, or perhaps its stuffing had become inflated with moisture. He couldn't see anything supernatural in the mirror, Duo or otherwise.

Mirrors... this mansion was full of them, he realized. That, in itself, was not extraordinary. His own home had quite a few mirrors, but this place was infested with them. There seemed to be at least one in every room of the mansion. He probably wouldn't have even realized that if he hadn't seen that one in the courtyard that that menacing spirit had appeared in. Why would anyone place a mirror outside like that? What was the point? And that thought he had just had about Duo living in those mirrors, what proof did he have of that? Yes, he had seen him in the mirrors, but they had all seen him outside of them as well. Still, he had this overwhelming feeling that that thought was right, wherever it had come from.

If that really was the case, and that spirit was originating from the mirrors and not simply using them to frighten them, why were there so many in the mansion? As far as Heero could theorize, Duo had been murdered in some kind of ritual. Even that he wasn't sure of, but again, he felt that rightness, and it seemed logical at the same time that it didn't. There were very old legends in Nasue about this sort of thing, and it had happened a long time ago. Duo's journal had talked about his knowledge of his death, and his desire to do the right thing, but did that really mean his death was because he had been... offered up for some reason?

But those horrible cuts on Duo's body bothered Heero. There was a bruise around the spirit's thin neck, but he someone knew that wasn't what had killed the boy. He hadn't been burned alive or had his heart cut out or even his head loped off. Those cuts were gruesome, hinting at a truly horrible death, and they were deep. Above all, they weren't neat or ritualistic looking. They looked like something a psychopath had done, someone with a great deal of rage or passion would do to someone they had once cared about.

The legend that Heero's grandfather had told him spoke of a father offering up his daughter to some great darkness. Had Duo's father done that to him? And if it had really been a ritual, why the mirrors? There were all kinds of superstitions about mirrors, but none of them good. If the people who lived in this mansion were religious enough to believe that killing their child would stop some evil, why would they place mirrors, things that practically every legend Heero had ever heard stated contained spirits or were gateways to realms of the dead, all over this place? What purpose would they serve beyond tempting fate that such rituals might invite evil spirits into the place? That sort of logic was insane even in an age where such superstitions were usually laughed at.

'If the sun never rises,' he suddenly thought, painfully, 'if this day never changes, it'll be the anniversary of my parents' death for the rest of my life.'

So many questions. It made Heero feel like his brain was going to explode, all the things that they didn't know and all the things that they needed to know to survive this. He remembered how Duo had looked as he had reached for him inside of his mirror, that sad, pleading look. He just had this overwhelming that this was what he wanted, for them to be looking for some kind of evidence, to help him. Although that might have just been his own wishful thinking.

Suddenly, in the mirror's reflection, something moved. Heero was immediately on alert, his dark eyes scanning the mirror's image to see where the movement had come from. He expected to see that white clad figure standing in the corner or some kind of vision like he had seen in the courtyard, but he couldn't see anything out of place behind him.

The doll twitched. It happened so quickly, for a moment Heero thought he was imagining it, but then it happened again. The doll's arms twitched, like a small child raising it's arms up to be held, or more accurately, someone having a seizure. It was disturbing to see, something that couldn't possibly be real. Heero whirled around to face the doll.

He had seen so many horror films with Zechs and Relena, he fully expected to see absolutely nothing outside of the mirror image. So when he saw the doll move again without the mirror, it was even more disturbing. This time, it turned it's tiny, round head and seemed to stare at him, it's button eyes gleaming in the dark. Heero felt that chill go through him again. The doll raised one arm again and held it in the air.

'It's pointing at something,' he realized with such an incredible feeling of surrealism, he wasn't sure if any of this was actually happening at all.

He looked where the doll's arm was pointing to, the far corner of the room, but the shadows there were so black, he couldn't see what might be there, if there even was anything, and he was too frightened to take his flashlight off the doll. He wasn't even sure what he was frightened of, but the sight of that thing moving with it's decayed stitches and beady eyes and just... wrongness, scared him more than the possibility that something was lurking in the corner of the room. When the doll fell motionless again, it's arm falling to it's side like a string had been cut, it didn't give him any comfort at all.

Was Duo doing this, he wondered as he sat down next to the doll and reached down to pick it up, animating the doll to give him some kind of clue? That's what it seemed like to him. As Heero cradled the small doll in his hands, the kimono over it's bloated stomach rippled and contorted. He touched it lightly there, expecting to feel stale stuffing but instead felt something hard, something that felt repulsive and bizarre to him. Just as he was about to pull the kimono aside to see what was inside the doll, the fabric bulged out grotesquely and a large centipede slithered out of the doll's kimono and up his arm.

"Augh!" he cried out in disgust, the centipede's horde of legs like pinpricks as it crawled up his naked skin, it's long body reminding him of a snake.

"Heero!" Trowa called out, hearing his friend scream, but Heero was too concerned with creature making its way towards his face to care about what his friends were doing.

Heero grimaced in pain as the centipede viciously bit his arm, the feeling like being shocked by an electric socket. The Japanese teenager grabbed the centipede in a tight fist, the feeling of it scrambling in his hand more horrible than feeling it crawling up him, it's guts drooling out at the violence of the boy's grip, and he threw it against the wall like it was a violating demon instead of a very large mukade centipede and watched with perverse pleasure as it curled up into a spiral ball in its death throes. He clamped a hand to the bite wound, feeling it's searing heat. For a single moment, in the very corner of his eye, in the shadows that the doll had pointed at, he thought he saw a child sneering a him in the darkness. A child wearing a blood stained kimono. A child with long, brown hair, and violet eyes that seemed to glow in the blackness.

Relena screamed as a child's laugh filled the silence, a sinister, taunting, ugly sound, the sort you might hear from a child in the process of watching a bug squirm after they had stabbed it with a pin. Blood stained the yellow parchment of the shoji screens and wall paintings, like stale gauze over a deep wound. It spilled out of the wood of the walls and seeped into the tatami floor, filling the air with it's thick, coppery stench. As that horrible, sadistic laugh continued, Heero's flashlight flickered feebly and he saw his friends' flashlights do the same, dying lightning bugs casting long, decaying shadows around the walls of each of the rooms. Heero felt intensely dizzy as the child's laugh pierced through his ears like it was a siren, the flashing lights making him feel both drowsy and sick.

He thought that he could hear his friends screaming as their only source of light, only source of comfort, died out one by one, leaving them as stranded as if they were world's apart. Heero felt himself falling to the floor, the tatami wet and warm under his cheek. It felt like it was alive, like he was lying on some large, pulsating heart beating out it's last life-blood. He heard something slam shut and then, there was only blackness.
*****
Hiiro blearily opened his eyes as the morning sun found it's way onto his sleeping face. Just as he did every morning, he climbed out of his futon in mere seconds, rolling it up to be cleaned by one of the many servants, and shrugged out of his bed clothes and into his dark blue yukata and hakama. He forwent his haori (1) as it was already hot and it was only early morning. He quickly slipped his feet into his geta and snatched his ring of keys from the top of his dresser, tucking them into his obi.

His teishu always awoke early, so if he didn't hurry, Duo-san might start his day without him, and as of late, he had been waking earlier and earlier every morning. Heero had asked him about it only once and Duo had responded that with the ritual quickly approaching, he had more use for wakefulness and less for sleep. 'Soon,' he had said, 'I will be asleep for eternity. Besides, what use are dreams and restfulness to me?'

Heero got on his knees in front of the small door that led to his teishu's room. When he had been younger, he had been able to get through the door quite easily, as it had been built for someone much younger than his seventeen years, but he now had to remain on his knees to get through.

"Teishu-san," he called as he knocked, but somehow knew he would get no answer.

There was only silence and Heero sighed.

'Again,' he thought regrettably, but still unlocked the door and crawled through.

Duo, predictably, was not in his room, but everything was as immaculate as he always left it when he started his day, even his futon was neatly folded up, even though his teishu knew that it would be washed later. Hiiro sighed again. He wished that Duo would at least wake him up instead of vanishing like this. It always frightened him, not knowing where his charge was, but Duo always seemed hesitant to bother or wait for him.

The Mirror Sacrifice had a full schedule every day between his morning ablutions, meals, prayer, and studies, but Duo did not always adhere to them. Sometimes when Hiiro awoke to find him gone, he was talking a walk in his garden. Other times he was in his library, reading, and others he was in the courtyard spending time with his crows. Hiiro only prayed that Shujin-sama did not discover that he so often allowed Duo to wander off alone, shirking his duties. At this time, it was impossible to tell where he might be, so Hiiro began his search in the same place he did every morning, the Tsukinikagami (2) Shrine, where his teishu began his morning prayers.

Heero crossed the main courtyard brusquely, wondering if Duo-san would want to take his breakfast in his own private courtyard or by the river, or if he would want to take it in his room like he had yesterday because of the heat. Although Summer had just started, it had been terribly hot that week and Duo hated the heat more than the cold. Heero could understand. It upset his charge's stomach and made his very pale skin burn no matter what they tried to prevent it.

Duo didn't have much love for the cold, either, but his family went well out of their way to make sure he was never troubled by it in the Winter, that he didn't so much as get a cold, let alone pneumonia. His room was always well heated. His teishu enjoyed the winter because it was the one time of the year where he could wear a heavier kimono over his ceremonial one. The health of the Mirror Sacrifice, after all, took precedent even over tradition. Heero could not blame Duo for disliking his pure white, sleeveless kimono, but it was his duty and the boy understood that.

Hiiro ignored servants and members and guests of the Matsuei family as they all bowed respectfully to him as he past them on his way to the large, thick fence that surrounded the courtyard on the north side. Even after all these years of serving Duo as his Mirror Guard, he felt self-conscious by such displays of respect. It was only just for the one that took care of the sacrifice, the only one who served directly under him and guarded him with his life, but it still made him feel strange. Before he had met Duo, Hiiro had been a servant, just like the ones that bowed to him now.

Before Duo, Hiiro's days had been filled with cleaning the mansion, washing clothes, studying for his future duties, and bringing the Matsuei family and their guests their meals. He had known what he had been born into for all of his life, it seemed. The Yuys had had the honor of performing this service for the Matsuei family since the very beginning of this tradition, his father had told him. The Yuy and Matsuei families, he had said, were bound by something even stronger than blood, and always would be. His father had been the Mirror Guard for the Shujin's older sister, and his father had been the guard over the previous shujin's older sister also, and Hiiro's great, great grandfather's charge had been Shujin-sama's great, great uncle, the last Mirror Sacrifice since Duo had been born that had been male.

Hiiro remembered feeling sad when his father had explained his duty to him the last time before he had disappeared from the mansion. He had been old enough then to really understand what his father had been telling him all of those years. He hadn't felt sad because his future had been planned out for him even before he had already been born. It was an honor to be chosen to guard the Mirror Sacrifice, someone more important than the Shujin himself. Without the Mirror Sacrifice, the entire family and mansion would not only be doomed, but the entire town and country, and, if the legends were to be believed, perhaps the rest of the living world as well. Guarding the future of the world, the lives of every person in Nasue, in this mansion, was a daunting thought for anyone, let alone a child.

He had felt honored and frightened, but not sad that there was no other path for him. In a way, it was a comfort. Many servants had come and gone in the mansion, and it was worse in town. Unlike Duo, Hiiro was allowed into the village, and he saw first hand the sort of life one might have if they weren't born into privilege or with some unique skill. For him, he had never had to worry about being fed, clothed, or given a home. He would never have to worry about work or his family. He would always be cared for and he enjoyed freedoms that most men had to work their whole lives for, and most still would never obtain. What had made him sad was the knowledge that his future, his life as the Mirror Guard, was a fleeting thing.

Hiiro's father had disappeared a year before Hiiro had been taken to the private courtyard and met his young charge. A year of understanding how cruel his duty was, before he had truly realized that cruelty at all. It was his task to see to it that the Mirror Sacrifice remained healthy and safe, but it was also his take to make sure that Duo never strayed, that he remained pure, his mind always fixed on his sacrifice. All of it, all of the years, would lead to that sacrifice, and then Hiiro's duty would be finished. Duo will have fulfilled his birth right and Hiiro would be free to live the rest of his life however he wished, provided that he continued the family line and brought another Guard into this world. Even if he didn't, there were other members of the Yuy family, although that was not ideal.

Seventeen years Hiiro had devoted his life to this duty, the only duty his teishu would ever know, but that seemed so little, such a worthless sacrifice compared to what Duo was prepared to give. As a child, he had thought it would be easy. In the tomes he had read, the Mirror Sacrifice was this perfect being, more like a God than a person. They were always beautiful, serene, wise, and spiritual. Looking after one had seemed simple, just follow them, deliver their meals, make sure they were cared for and comfortable before the ritual was performed.

He had had this image in his head of his charge, the same image he had seen painted in one of those books, a prim and proper maiden with long brown hair, perfect posture, and a gentle smile. He had expected to just be another servant, to be detached from his teishu beyond just following his orders. Then he had met Duo-sama.

Beautiful, serene, gentle, and perfect. Duo was all of those things. He was everything Hiiro had read about, everything one that would sacrifice their soul for those that he loved should be. But Duo wasn't just some painting in a book. For all of his studies and preparation for this duty, Hiiro had never really thought about what it would actually be like caring for such a person, a child. He had thought he would be detached, that it would be easy, if intimidating. He had thought of his future charge as a God and had completely disregarded the fact that he was a human being.

Duo was the sacrifice, the one that had to be perfect and never waver in his duty, but Hiiro had never thought of his humanness. Duo prayed and meditated six hours every day. He had read and studied more about the ritual than even Hiiro had. But there was so much more to him than that, so much more than just his duty and Hiiro had not anticipated that.

Duo liked flowers, liked looking at them and taking care of them. He loved birds and reading, he hated the heat and being indoors for long periods of time. Duo liked sweet things and hated foods that were spicy or pickled. Around everyone, especially his parents, he was reposed and perfect, but when it was just him and Hiiro, he would smile this brilliant, beautiful smile. This smile wasn't anything like that perfect, gentle one he would give his parents or the monks he prayed with. It was passionate, alive, and fiery. Every time Hiiro saw it, he would realize that that smile was his. It was a smile just for him, and every time he realized that, his own heart would burst with heat.

Detached... just thinking of that now made him want to laugh so hard that he would cry. There was some part, some secret, hidden part of himself that saw that smile and wept for how cruel the world really was. It cried for that human part of Duo, the part that had only become pronounced and lovely over these last few years, stolen years where his charge... no, his friend should have been buried, the part that was an abomination, something that he should have tried much harder to snuff out. But in reality, all it was was Duo, the way he was, and while it frightened Hiiro to see that smile, he wasn't so sure it was something bad, either. He hoped it was something that would give him the strength to do his duty and that Duo, his friend who loved life so much, wouldn't have any regrets. Thinking all those things made him understand, where he had been unable to as a child, why his father had looked so sad all the time. Thinking of what would happen to him when Duo was gone was unbearable.

Hiiro unlocked the door in the courtyard fence and stepped through, locking it behind him. Only higher members of the Matsuei family, the monks, miko, and Duo were allowed to meditate and pray at the Tsukinikagami temple. For the rest of the household, there was a smaller temple and shrine connected to the west side of the mansion. He walked across the stone pathway that crossed over the stream that flowed through this area between the courtyard and the hill where the temple was built.

Thick trees grew along the stream, along with patches of moss that always grew out of control around this time of year. Duo, who had a deep love for this sort of subject, had told him that if it were not for rigorous grounds keeping, this area of their property would have become a wild swamp by now, impossible to pass except by boat. His charge loved to come out to this stream when it was warm enough out. There was barely any current, just a steady trickle, and Hiiro often saw small fish he had no hope of identifying.

Sunlight peeked through the trees, dappling the water like there were diamonds hiding in the sandy bed. The water was a deep aqua, water that suited some far off, exotic land. Yes, he thought, Duo would want to take his breakfast out here this morning. After a long morning of prayer and meditation, he would want to eat in the warm, shady quiet and dangle his feet in the water, although his father would be angry if he found out that Duo did such a thing, even though his son was always very careful to make sure his kimono never got wet.

The stony path crossed over the stream until it became a trail through the thick woods and up the hill. The trees here were not as well managed as those by the stream and grew so high and so close together that one was lucky if they saw any sunlight through them. Duo-sama had not liked these woods at first as a child. He had said that they frightened him, so dark they were like the woods from the western stories Hiiro had read him.

One night, against his better judgment, and hearing from Duo that he often thought of monsters or ghosts living in these woods at night, he had snuck the younger boy out of the mansion and onto this path. Duo had clutched at Hiiro's yukata and trembled behind him until he had seen the entire woods lit up by fireflies and heard the hooting of some nearby owl. He had said it was like watching secret fairies dance, something that had been made just for the two of them. Hiiro remembered that night, and all the other nights he and Duo had come out here to watch the fireflies dance, perfectly, although sometimes it felt like it had only happened in a dream.

The huge stone stairs that led to the shrine and the shrine's many torii (3) loomed ahead of Hiiro. As a child, leading his even younger charge up those steps, Hiiro had felt like they had been built for some great giant, so used to the smaller shrine for the rest of the household. Even at his seventeen years, the torii were impressive. According to his history lessons of the Tsukinikagami shrine, originally all of the torii had been simple shime torii and these were the first three torii that greeted him on his long trek up the steps; the wood posts weathered after hundreds of years and even the shimenawa looking a bit aged.

There was an old legend that stated that the ropes used in the Mirror Ritual formed the shimenawa on these three torii, but Hiiro's father had said that that was nonsense, the ropes remained in the hanging place and the shimenawa were just simple, purified ropes. No one knew how long ago the shime torii had been constructed. Some of the monks claimed they had been constructed even before the mansion, while others said it was afterwards. The last four torii that Hiiro passed were kasuga torii which, according to the monks, had been constructed long after the shime had been, after some sort of tragedy. Their red stone was a welcome sight to him, signaling the end of the stairs.

The sando was already swept clean of leaves and dirt and Hiiro would have cursed if he had been anywhere else. If the monks had already done their morning chores, he was later than he thought he was. Duo might already have gone into the shrine for his prayers, one of the few places Hiiro could not go with him. Across the sando, past the twin chozuya and long rows of toro, the ornate kaguara-den where he was sure the miko were practicing, and sessha loomed the large shrine. Hiiro went directly to the chozuya that lay on the right side of the sando, further down from the left chozuya near the toro.

Hiiro had visited one of the shrines in Nasue and knew well from history sessions that the Tsukinikagami shrine had been built different from most other shrines to cater to its purpose; to house the Kami that the Matsuei family worshipped. This shrine was partially unique due to it's two chozuya. The first one, on the left side of the sando, had been built like the other chozuya Hiiro had seen, a small place of running water for the monks and visitors of the shrine to purify their hands of uncleanness.

The chozuya on the right side, however, had been specially built for the Mirror Sacrifice. It was a small building that had similar running water and seemed similar to the bathing quarters in the mansion. It was the place where his teishu went every morning to perform his ablutions in privacy. He was never to be disturbed when he was performing this ritual as he had to concentrate on cleansing his body of any uncleanness, any imperfection, and it was a grave sin for anyone save the Shujin or the Guard to look upon the sacrifice's body bereft of his sacred garb.

For the very first time, when Hiiro reached the chozuya, the door was ajar, just slightly. Duo always closed and locked the door when he was performing his ritual. Had he really already finished and gone on into the temple? Hiiro touched the door lightly and tried to listen for signs that Duo was there. He could hear soft sounds, but nothing that sounded like he was still washing himself. He could have called out to him or knocked, that was what the logical part of himself told him to do. Instead, he found himself opening the door enough to peer inside, unable to stop himself even as something in him warned him that just because he was late, it did not mean that Duo was finished.

Hiiro's blue eyes widened as he looked inside the chozuya. Familiar, pale white skin greeted him and he almost bolted, startled, but something kept him rooted to the spot. He had expected to find Duo putting on his undergarments perhaps, or even naked, so the image before him was alien. Duo was kneeling on the floor of the chozuya, filling up a basin with the flowing water from a narrow gap in the side of the floor that had been tapped from the stream.

He was completely naked from the waist up but was inexplicably wearing dark blue hakama embroidered with blue butterflies, a garment that was worn during the ceremonial dances and not something Duo should be wearing. Even more startling, Duo's fair skin was covered in sweat, his cheeks red from exertion that was not just from the warm weather. Hiiro puzzled on what his teishu had been doing instead of his usual prayer and studies this morning, but all such thoughts were purged from his mind as the fifteen year old lifted the basin over his head and poured the water over himself.

The crystalline water formed tiny rivers as it streamed down Duo's half-naked form. Hiiro watched it with rapt, intense attention. He knew his teishu's body, he had helped him dress enough times, but this was different. Every curve, every flat expanse of white-pale skin that those water droplets caressed was wonderful. The chestnut hair that draped over him, clinging to his arms and back and hips, accentuated his paleness and for a moment, and not for the first time, Hiiro had a hard time accepting Duo's realness. It was like looking at a work of art and not a person. How could anyone be that beautiful? So beautiful, it often took his breath away at times when he realized it.

He was perfect. When Duo-sama had been born, the first and only child of the head of the Matsuei clan, the entire mansion had been in whispers. The sacrifice, their savior, their guiding light in the darkness, had finally come back into the world. But many had also whispered what bad luck it was, the sacrifice being born a boy. Hiiro had come across similar ideas in his studies, that there was a bad omen with male sacrifices, although there seemed to be little proof to it. It seemed like any deviation from the very first sacrifice, hundreds of years ago, was seen as bad luck, whether it be a boy child or a girl born with black hair instead of brown or some other perceived 'defect'. That Duo was one of only seven male sacrifices did not help.

Then Duo had opened his eyes and all those whispers of bad omens had ceased. Even as a new born, those eyes had been that beautiful shade of blue-violet, like some sort of flower or jewel. The same violet, it was said, the original maiden had shared. Of the dozens of children that had been sacrificed to keep the Darkness at bay, only three of them had had those same traits, the pale skin, the violet eyes, and the auburn hair. It was said to be the best kind of omen, regardless of Duo's gender, and that he had grown to be beautiful and feminine was a great sign that the ritual would be a success.

But when Hiiro looked at his charge, he didn't see those things as feminine, especially not now as he watched him cleanse his body. His hips and chest were flat, his body thin, almost frail looking, but not the body of a woman. They could dress him up in that kimono that had been made for a girl, and keep his hair long, but it didn't change how Duo really was. The way he was now, his chest and stomach bare, water making his body gleam and the hakama plastered to his legs, he looked more natural, more like himself than he ever did while he was wearing that white kimono.

Hiiro's grip on the door tightened as Duo filled the basin with more water and pulled his silken hair over one thin shoulder, letting it drape in his lap. He tilted the basin, letting the water pour down his back and chest. The older boy watched the muscles in that slender back flex as he washed himself, one especially fascinating stream flowing over his stomach as he turned back around where Hiiro could see his front and disappearing into the front of his hakama.

If he thought about it for a second, a second he adamantly refused himself, Hiiro could imagine that water collecting in the thin, silken reddish brown hair down there and some horrible part of himself wished he weren't wearing hakama at all, while another part, the sane and dutiful part, was immensely glad he was. His breath hitched as he realized that the boy's soft nipples had at some point become hard, pink peaks from the cold water and he stumbled from the door like he had seen a demon, instead of the boy that he had known since he had once been a child. All at once, he realized the hard flesh between his legs with the sort of horror one might see a terrible infection or wound.

Hiiro directed every curse that he knew towards himself, but it did little to make his... feelings... go away. When had this happened? When had he become this aberrant person, when had he forsaken all of his duties, all of his responsibilities, and looked at his charge... his teishu like this? He dug his keys from his obi and gripped them so tightly, a few of they cut into his palm, drawing blood.

This was not the first time he had felt this... heat when looking at Duo. He could not remember exactly when he had first realized his beauty, or his weakness in the face of it, but it was happening far too frequently. All these secret moments when Duo would smile at him, or sleep against his shoulder, or become fixated on a butterfly or flower and Hiiro would notice him and realize all of the things he could never be permitted to notice. When had his heart betrayed him?

He could not let this perversion take hold. Duo wasn't his accolyte, some younger boy he could take under his wing and have that sort of relationship with. And even if he were... even if Hiiro had been a samurai or a monk, and Duo his apprentice, what he wanted when he looked into those deep, violet eyes wasn't just lust, some kind of temporary relationship (4). When he looked at his teishu, he saw his entire world. What he felt was unnatural.

No, what he felt for Duo was worse than unnatural. It would have been bad enough if he had just been another boy, a fellow servant or even one from the Matsuei family. But Duo-sama wasn't a boy. He was the Mirror Sacrifice, a sacred being, a pure and perfect being, far above his mere, lowly thoughts of attraction. Hiiro's feelings disgusted him because it was such a betrayal to the one person he cared about. Duo couldn't be tainted by impure thoughts, neither the thoughts of those around him or his own. He had to remain pure for the ritual, in order for it to be a success. Only one with a pure heart, one untainted by the living world, could appease the rift.

His grip on the keys became so hard, blood streamed down his hand. The pain was soothing and he focused on it, let it fill him, distracting him from the throbbing in his groin and heart until he could feel nothing else but the pain. His punishment, and his salvation.

Duo-sama certainly could not have his own Guard directing such thoughts and feelings at him. He was the Mirror Guard. It was his duty to protect Duo, even if it was from himself. If Shujin-sama ever learned that he harbored these detestable thoughts, he would not punish him or banish him, he would behead him without a second thought, and he would be right to. The hope for every single person in this mansion, this village, humanity itself, the light against the Darkness... his feelings didn't matter, they were petty and dirty in the face of Duo's purity. All he had to do was bottle them inside and do the same thing he had done since he had met that kind, little boy in that small garden. Protect him, no matter what he needed to sacrifice.

"Hiiro? Is that you?" Duo's soft voice through the door almost made him gasp in fear.

Had his teishu seen him watching him? Had he seen... him? A violet eye appeared through the barely open door and when Duo saw that it really was him, he smiled a little. That smile made Hiiro ache in a way that had nothing to do with lust.

"You did not wake me this morning, Teishu-sama," Hiiro scolded, purposefully using the proper title, something that he knew always frustrated Duo.

The younger boy had the good grace to blush at that.

"I wanted to see the sunrise," he murmured, averting his gaze before quickly looking back up at Hiiro, "I didn't want to wake you so early."

"It is my duty to go where you go, Teishu-sama. My needs are irrelevant," Hiiro scolded him lightly.

"I know," Duo said simply without any kind of apology. He then looked hesitant and shy again, "I have finished my cleansing, can you help me dress?"

"Of course," the older boy said, almost in exasperation.

He slid inside of the chozuya, no longer feeling embarrassed or aroused by the thought of being near Duo when he was naked and he wondered why that was. Perhaps because they had done this every single day since they had been children, and while his eyes had never lingered on his charge's body in the way that they had lingered today, he had seen parts of Duo's naked body before, and the thought of seeing it again did not bother him. It was part of his duty, helping the boy dress. But seeing him the way he had earlier... there had been nothing dutiful about that, and the fact that he had been wearing some clothing was irrelevant.

That embarrassment quickly flooded back when Hiiro saw that Duo was still wearing that dark blue hakama, the wet cloth molded to his slender form. It really did suit him better than his kimono did. Hiiro swallowed roughly as his teishu turned to gather his clothing, carefully folded and placed away from where the water might have wetted them, giving him a view of that pale, perfect back again. Hiiro forced himself to turn around and stare at the wall, a less tantalizing image, and squeezed his hand into a fist, focusing on the pain of his self-inflicted wounds. That was all this was. He lacked focus, lacked discipline, and he needed to find it again.

"You should not go alone in the mornings, Teishu-sama," he scolded again, "No matter how early you feel like rising, you should wake me. If I had not arrived here at this moment, there would have been no one to assist you. You would have had to wait for me and you might have even caught a cold, no matter how warm it is today."

He heard a soft creak of the floorboards and turned to see Duo approaching him, holding his kimono and other clothing carefully as to not get them wet. He was wearing a soft, but somehow still brilliant, smile on his lips. It was the sort of smile he often wore whenever he said something brutally honest, something that usually ended up hurting Hiiro in some secret place, although he would certainly never tell him that.

"Whenever I need you," he said, his voice like his smile, both soft and powerful in the quiet of the chozuya, "I always know you will be here. You always know when I need help, and what it is exactly that I need. I will always have faith in that."

Heero, the Heero did not belong, the one watching from deep inside the one that did, felt his heart ache seeing that smile. His past self had seen it as brilliant, but the other Heero saw sadness there, a deep sadness that didn't belong on such a kind, beautiful face. The other Hiiro, the one long since dead and whose memory this belonged to, only felt intense guilt seeing that smile and hearing those words, guilt and strength. Duo was relying on him, and he had faith in him to always be with him, always be strong and do what he needed. He did not need these feelings of his, he needed his Guard. Duo was all that mattered, not what Hiiro felt, and for a moment, he had forgotten that. He shoved the last vestiges of his desires and affection deep inside and locked them tightly away, latching on to all of the lessons of duty and responsibility that he had been taught as a child and wondering how he had so easily forgotten all of them, or at least let something else take their place.

Duo's blue-violet eyes widened in the dim room as he caught sight of Hiiro's hand.

"You're injured," he said painfully.

Hiiro looked down at his hand and saw that his wounds were still bleeding, but sluggishly now.

"I am fine," he insisted, "The bleeding has almost stopped. I will take care of it later."

"You cannot leave your wounds open like this," this time Duo was the one to scold him and looked generally upset by it, "they might get infected."

The chestnut haired boy walked over to where he had hung the cloths he had washed with from a pole above where the water flowed through the chozuya. He took two down, wetting one and keeping the other dry.

"Teishu-sama," Hiiro protested, trying to keep his voice firm and authoritative but Duo flashed him a dark glare, a rare, passionate look from someone that was usually soft spoken and restrained, and Hiiro quickly amended himself, "Duo-san, do not concern yourself, the cuts are very small. You need to get out of your wet clothes."

Duo pointedly ignored him as he walked back to him and Hiiro nearly sighed, but let his charge take his hand and clean the blood off with the wet cloth.

"Sorry, I do not have any ointment to properly clean these with," he apologized, "Please have them tended to properly."

He didn't even have the soap he used available. During his ablutions, Duo could only use the flowing, natural water from the stream to cleanse his body with, he wasn't even allowed to use the nuka that the servants used when they washed in the sento (5). When he washed normally at night before dinner, he liked to use the soap his father had purchased for his mother. Duo said it was soothing and enjoyed the very light, herbal scent of it, one of the few luxuries he was allowed.

"I will," Hiiro said, trying to soothe his friend's worries, it always made him feel off balance when Duo should such concern for him when he had so many other, more important things to focus on, and feeling for a moment like he was being scolded at by his father.

Duo tore the dry cloth into strips and used it to wrap Hiiro's hand. As he did so, he paused and stared at the cuts on the older boy's hand with such concentration and fervor that Hiiro was sure he was about to ask him how he had gotten his wounds, but the long haired boy staid silent, just staring at the red, cut flesh, deep in his thoughts and looking disturbed by them. Even in the low lighting of the chozuya, he looked too pale. The other Heero thought that he looked scared, but Duo's Hiiro didn't seem able to register that. He nearly asked him what was wrong when Duo resumed wrapping his hand.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured.

"They just sting," Hiiro assured him, "Now will you please get out of those hakama before you make yourself sick?"

That made Duo chuckle happily and whatever dark mood had recently seized him just as quickly released him.

"Alright," he turned around and began to untie the waist.

Hiiro turned around again, not taking the chance that he would feel anything at all when Duo finally undressed.

"Why are you wearing such a thing?" he suddenly blurted out, "You know you are not allowed to wear that kind of clothing. If your father had found out, he would have been furious."

There was a lengthy silence. Hiiro dared to glance back at his charge and his entire face threatened to turn red. Duo had gotten the hakama down around his thighs, leaving the rest of him completely exposed and bare. He had stopped undressing and the hakama just hung there in his clutched hands. He seemed disturbed by something, like he had been when he had been wrapping Hiiro's hand and Hiiro wished he had not spoken.

"I came to the hill earlier to watch the sunrise three days ago," Duo finally said, his voice small and had some kind of quality to it, almost like a tremble, that Hiiro did not like, "I heard the kagura being practiced and went to the kagura-den to watch. The dance was so beautiful, the miko so coordinated and passionate. I had heard the music before, but I had never witnessed the miko dance before. I wanted to try... to see what it was like to move like that... to move so freely, so wildly and beautifully and not like the way I was taught to."

"You danced," Hiiro said breathlessly, caught between horror and wonder, a part of him wishing he had awoken early enough to have seen it and another glad that he hadn't.

Duo nodded, looking downcast.

"Duo-san, you cannot do these things," his guard protested, "That is forbidden. You are the Mirror Sacrifice, if anyone had seen you-"

"I was careful," the younger boy said with a sharp edge to his voice, "I made sure that no one would be able to see me. I just wanted one moment, one single moment, where I did not have to be the Mirror Sacrifice, where I could just be like the rest of those dancers. What is so terrible about me dancing? What is so evil about it?"

"You cannot think like that," Hiiro said desperately, feeling fear worm its way into his heart as Duo's voice became bitter, "You know why it is forbidden! You cannot be distracted from your duty, you cannot shed it like you do a piece of clothing."

Duo dropped the hakama and stepped out of them. As he approached, Hiiro felt no desire towards his naked body, only worry and ache as he saw the pain in those expressive, violet eyes.

"My duty..." he muttered and then fell silent.

He stood there without his kimono or that hakama, the same hakama, Hiiro suddenly remembered, had been gifted to him on his birthday that year by a visiting relative, the hakama that would eventually be buried at the empty funeral plot that would hold all such belongings of his after the ritual was completed. His body bare and his eyes looking far off, he looked more vulnerable than Hiiro had ever seen him and he again wished he had never said anything to Duo.

"Come," he urged, picking up Duo's traditional clothes that he had placed neatly on a dry patch of the floor, "Let me dress you."

The younger boy was unresponsive as they fell into the usual motions of him donning his white kimono. He let Hiiro comb his thick hair and attach the anklet of braided rope and a silver golden bell that he had made for him when they had been children to his ankle and then followed him obediently out of the chozuya. When the sun hit his pale face, Duo finally spoke again.

"I must wash away the sin of the world every morning," he said softly, looking away into the distance, his tone sad, almost mournful.

"Holy sacrifices must perform daily ablutions in order to remain pure," Hiiro said and almost winced at his tone, realizing he had quoted from one of the books he had studied as a child. He quickly relaxed and changed his tone to one that was lighter and more familiar, "You are the purest being in the entire world."

Duo laughed, still not looking at his friend, his back to him now. Hiiro followed his view and saw that he had been looking at one of the nearby sakura trees, it's pink petals dancing in the light breeze.

"Is that true?" he asked and his voice was tainted with that bitterness again, "Tell me, Hiiro, is the world really so dirty and ugly that I must wash it from my body every day... or is it me that is so dirty that the world can't bear to touch me? Is that the real reason why I'm locked away in this place while others are allowed to dance and live however they choose?"

"Please do not say that," Hiiro repeated, but this time it was begging, his heart feeling like it was twisting with those words, "You cannot have such doubts. If you do..." he swallowed roughly, not willing to finish that thought out loud, "You know why you must do these things."

"If I didn't have these doubts, I would not be human," Duo said, his voice cracking.

Hiiro walked around him so he could see his face and when Duo turned to look at him and he saw unshed tears in those deep eyes, he felt like he might break.

"Am I still human?" Duo asked, and the desperation, the horrible pain and doubt in the same voice he had known since he had been a child, did break him.

Tears pricking his own eyes, Hiiro discarded all of his lessons of conduct and responsibility as the Guard and hugged his best friend tightly, tighter than he had ever dared to hold him before. He felt his yukata become wet where Duo pressed his face close to him but he didn't hear him sob. Even like this, he was too composed for that, too secretive and too strong. Hiiro dared to thread his fingers through that brown, silk hair.

"You are still a boy," he said with tear roughened voice, "no ritual will ever change that, not ever. You were born a human and when you die, you will always be a human."

Standing there in the morning sun with Duo wrapped up in his arms, Hiiro felt happy, just feeling that slender body pressed against him, and he hated himself for it. He hated that he could feel something like that when Duo was crying and so upset over something so terrible. And he hated himself for thinking earlier that Duo was perfect, that not all that long ago, realistically, he had thought of him as the sacrifice, that sacred being from the texts he had studied. Duo was the Mirror Sacrifice, and that sacrifice would seal away the Darkness, but everyone, from the servants that waited on him to even his own parents, forgot that underneath that white kimono, underneath all his prayers and rituals and perfection, he was still a boy, a person.

Even thinking that, Hiiro all too soon realized who he was holding in his arms, the inappropriateness of it, and tried to pull away. It was then that Duo clung to Hiiro's yukata and began to sob. All his feelings of what was appropriate fled him and he chastised himself for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. All that mattered was what Duo needed, and if he needed to cry like this, Hiiro would gladly let him, no matter that the monks or Shujin-sama would disapprove. They would tell him that he needed to be harder on Duo, to keep his mind on the path to his purpose, that it was wrong for the Mirror Sacrifice to cry like this, to doubt what he needed to do. But they didn't understand. They didn't know what it was like to see all that pain in the eyes of someone so gentle and kind.

"My parents never touch me," Duo muttered into Hiiro's yukata, "even when I was a child, they barely would. Even our servants and other members of our family refuse to touch me. I asked once, when I was little, why I couldn't play with the other children, why everyone keeps their distance from me. My father said it was because I must remain pure and full of 'righteous conviction, but that's not the truth. I think it's because I'm a ghost, a thing that should be dead, but dares to walk among the living. A thing that is too repulsive to be touched."

Before Hiiro could soothe him and tell him that that was not the truth, even as he felt his own tears track down his face at hearing the loneliness Duo had felt for so long, Duo cut him off.

"Do not say it is not true, you know it is. You know, just as I know, that the only difference between myself and a ghost is that I haven't died yet. Soon, I won't even be able to claim that much of a distinction. Did you know," he said with a bitter smile, "that the last time my mother held me like you are holding me now was when I was an infant and had cried during a thunderstorm?" Duo closed his eyes as he felt Hiiro's hand caressing his head, relaxing against him like it was the most natural thing in the world, "I'm so lonely just for... for someone to touch me like I'm like anyone else," he whispered, "When you held my hand that first time... every time you touch me or hold me like this, it soothes that loneliness," his voice hitched again and his grip on the navy blue cloth in his hands tightened, "so please, I beg you, hold me just for a little bit longer."

Hiiro bit his tongue to keep a sob from escaping, his tears pouring down his cheeks almost as hard as Duo's was. He couldn't handle this pain in his heart, and he couldn't stand that he could feel it. He was not the one that was lonely. He wasn't the one who was going to be sacrificed. After the ritual, when Duo was gone, he would have freedom. A freedom his charge would never have. He could touch, and be touched by, anyone that he pleased. So what right did he have to cry now?

He nodded.

"Teishu-sama," he managed to say through his tears, "I will hold you for as long as you wish it."

"Is that because your teishu-sama demands it?" Duo asked with such an intense bitterness, it sounded like anger. Hiiro almost flinched hearing that in his voice. He had not thought Duo capable of sounding like that. So full of rage. Like... hatred.

"No," he whispered into Duo's hair as he rested his cheek on his head, "it is because it is what my best friend needs."
　

　

　

End part 4
Author's Notes: Oh, man, I actually got a part out pretty early for Halloween. Hopefully I will be able to get another out before the end of October. Not a whole lot of scary stuff happened in this part, especially with that dream sequence, but the next part will be darker, I promise ^_^
Also apologies in advance for all these footnotes, but they are necessary for you to understand some of these cultural things.
Also HAPPY HALLOWEEN and I will be working on Stagnation for Nanowrimo in case I don't get another part out before then.
Some terminology:
(1) Yukata: a thin garment usually worn for bathing, festivals, and in hot, summer months

Hakama: pleated trouser pants, typically worn by men and tied at the waist

Haori: short sleeved, light jacket. Open in the front and worn over a man's kimono

Geta: sandals

Obi: in this instance, the tie of the yukata

teishu: master

Shujin: also master

Misogi: type of shinto ablution ritual involving flowing water
(2) Tsukinikagami: basically means 'moon's mirror'
(3) Some more terminology.
Torii: the welcoming gate or gates to a shinto shrine. Shime torii are the oldest kinds, just two posts with a shimenawa tied between them. Shimenawa is typically a simple rope with ornaments hanging from it. Kasuga is just a different kind of torii. Sando is the road to the shrine. The chozuya are ablution stations used for washing hands. Toro are decorative stone lanterns. Miko are obviously shrine maidens and the kagura-den is the place where dramas and sacred dances are performed.
(4) About homosexuality in Edo period Japan: homosexuality in Japan around this time was not actually taboo. It was depicted in art for many centuries and samurais and monks would often take on male lovers. However, duty was important and so it was expected that the individual would still have a wife and family. Also, the accepted homosexual relationships were between an older man and an apprentice type, aka a young boy who, when reaching adulthood, would leave this man to marry while retaining a close friendship with their past lover. So Hiiro's attraction to another boy would not be odd, but his desires and love for someone around his same age, and his lack of desire to have a family outside of this person would be.
(5) A sento, in the edo period, was a public bathhouse. While the Matsuei mansion does have areas for bathing, the servants typically go to the town sento. Nuka was rice bran which, when boiled with water and bamboo shoots, could be used for washing. Soap was available during this period, but only for the wealthy and it had be shipped from Spain.
　

　

　
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Beyond the Looking Glass