"You lied to me," Sofia said, her voice high and shrill with agitation.

She moved back until she hit the carriage wall. She wanted to get out, to flee from this place, from them. But she didn't know where to go.

Mica had told her that she and Kaido had been traveling together since they had been very young, not much older than you are now, Sofia. She had regaled her with tales about their youthful adventures and comic mistakes. All of the stories that Sofia had soaked up like a sponge, starved to get a glimpse into other people's lives. None of it had been true!

The indignity of having been lied to, of always, always being lied to, rose inside Sofia like a flood. She thought that she might start to cry from sadness or desperation. Instead, she felt herself tearing up from anger.

She took a deep, furious breath.

"You lied! You lied! It's nothing but lies here, only stories and betrayals. Nothing is true! I hate it here! I hate it!"

She wanted to add, 'and I hate you', but she stopped herself at the last moment.

"I never lied to you, Sofia," Mica said. "And neither has Kaido. We only left out certain things."

"That's the same as lying!"

"I don't think so."

"But - but, look at him."

Sofia pointed accusingly at Kaido. He now looked much the same as he always did, though missing his horn and dramatic hair. His skin was smooth and taut, and his eyebrows were arched high. His eyes were clear and sharp. He might have been thirty years old, lithe and strong.

But it had taken him two attempts to return to his usual form, and Sofia could see that there was still a slight tremor in his hands. His expression was one of sadness, and though he hadn't said anything to Sofia yet, he had apologized to Mica. She had shaken her head, consoling him with a single gesture. Now, he seemed to let her decide how much to reveal.

Sofia said,

"You told me that you have spent most of your lives together, on the road, with your theater, since you were young."

"That's the truth."

"It's not. It is not!"

Mica was looking at her hands that were lying in her lap. With a visible emotional effort, she lifted them.

"Look," she said softly.

As Sofia finally did as she was asked, Mica's hands looked like a skeleton's. They were covered with loose and malleable flesh as if the bones were beads on a string. The skin was papery and spotted, with a yellowish tint. Her hands looked so brittle and frail as if they might crumble if touched too firmly. Like a corpse's hands.

Sofia stared at them. The sight of these ancient-looking limbs made her back feel cold. As if she was in the presence of death, or something worse.

"You're only pretending," she stammered, but one look into Mica's face told her that she wasn't. Her eyes, soft and clear like a young woman's were lined with tears.

Kaido had his head turned away, avoiding to look at Mica's hands.

"I wish I was," Mica said. "They hurt. The skin feels like it could be pierced by the wind." She rubbed her hands softly, as if for warmth, or comfort. "Can I -?" she asked.

Sofia nodded, unable to act any differently.

Mica's fingers and hands returned to their previous shape. Her body relaxed, and she reclined against the cushioned seat of the carriage with a sigh of relief. She lifted her shoulders and curled them back as if unwinding the muscles in her neck.

"Don't they hurt anymore?" Sofia asked.

"No, they still do. But less, as if the perfect surface makes me forget the mess that's hiding underneath."

"You're old."

"Very old."

"But - "

Sofia didn't know how to phrase the question, or what she even wanted to know. She waited for Mica to start on her own.

"It's nicer like this," Mica said. She turned her hand from one side to the other, admiring its porcelain-perfection, its youth and strength. "Who wants to be reminded that their life is almost over? That their body is deteriorating, that their mind is barely keeping up? And nobody wants to see us like this."

"But I've seen you asleep. You don't change. I mean, you don't -, you don't age."

"It's because I can hold it. I haven't seen my real self in decades. I feel it. I feel my bones becoming hollow. I feel how delicate I am, how easily I bruise, how long it takes to heal. But I'm not able to live in my own skin, not anymore."

She looked at Kaido. His gaze was turned down. He still didn't say anything.

"It's more difficult for him," Mica said. She took his hand into hers, and they shared a long look that Sofia couldn't place. "What difference does it make, now?" she said to him. "What difference did it ever make?"

They both looked at Sofia.

"Why can't you hold it?" she asked Kaido. Her breath had become encased in her lungs. She felt like she knew the answer, but it couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"Because I am like you, Sofia," Kaido said. "Only, I came to Nihon much, much longer ago."

*

It was the secret that Kaido had promised Mica to keep at all cost. When he had told her that he wanted to take Sofia in to their care, she had only agreed under the condition that he wouldn't reveal his background to her.

In the end, though, it had been her who disclosed the truth, and while Kaido seemed grateful that he had not been forced to break his promise, the relief on Mica's face was even greater as if a burden she had carried for most her life had finally been lifted.

"I would have told, at one point," he said, a confession aimed both at Sofia and Mica.

"I know," Mica replied with a smile.

"Why didn't you do it sooner?" Sofia asked, even though she knew why.

"I have never told anybody, except for Mica."

Mica lifted a finger, and Kaido flinched before she could open her mouth to contradict him.

"Alright, yes, that's not exactly true. In the beginning, I told a few people. Some didn't believe me, some turned away from me immediately, and others tried to gain something from it. It was only when I met Mica that she told me that this was the one thing that nobody in Nihon could ever know about me, and there were times, years even, when I almost forgot myself." Kaido made a gesture around the carriage. "Mica taught me all of this. That an artist's life would allow me to participate in people's lives, yet remain distant enough not to raise any suspicions."

"Before they might begin to suspect, we have already moved on," Mica said. "And over time, Kaido became so gifted in his use of his imagination that it barely mattered anymore."

"Except at night," Kaido said. "When I sleep, or when I get sick. And sometimes, when I am tired or agitated, it gets more difficult to maintain the illusion. You've learnt that already," he added towards Sofia.

"So, everybody from -, from our side can do this?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe, yes, maybe no. I have never met anybody else since I got here."

"That we know of," Mica interjected.

"Maybe others blend in just like me. And you."

"Not yet," Sofia mumbled.

"You're getting there."

"And much faster than Kaido did," Mica laughed.

"Well, she has two teachers," Kaido objected, slightly miffed. "I only had you, and at first, you had no idea what to teach me, or how."

"How did you get here?" Sofia asked.

Kaido looked at her thoughtfully.

"I'd like to ask you the same."

Sofia thought about it, then remembered what Mica had said before. Leaving out things wasn't the same as lying. While she didn't necessarily agree with this overly convenient kind of thinking, it made sense in her current situation.

"I walked," she said. "I lived in one of the Border Villages, and one night, I packed a bag and walked over the bridge, into Nihon." She added as if for an explanation, "I was curious."

Kaido and Mica shared a look.

"You just -, walked? Didn't you get sick?"

Sofia remembered the night of the crossing. It felt like a lifetime ago, like something that had happened to somebody else, and she had merely been told about it, like her Uncle Sermon's travels where she could never be sure what was real and what he made up.

The way the elements had opposed her - had it actually happened that way? She remembered how she had braced the wind, feeling the way she imagined it would be like to be sea-sick as if her body was the only solid thing in a fluctuating, swaying world.

"I didn't get sick. But it felt weird. Very weird."

"I was sick," Kaido said, shaking his head and laughing. "I threw up until there was nothing left inside of me. And then, somehow, I kept throwing up more. I thought that I was going to die."

"Why didn't you turn back?"

Kaido looked at Sofia and took a deep breath. He hunched over a bit as if his stomach filled with acid at the remembrance. The memory seemed to become painfully clear in his mind as if a faded sepia-colored picture was coming back to life.

Suddenly he looked small, like a child, like someone lost at sea.

"I didn't come into Nihon by my own choice," he said. "I was taken."