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[translitgeek]

I had only been in the University dormitory for two days when I was awakened in the middle of the night. I was confused by the darkness when I opened my eyes, and couldn't quite understand what the banging noise came from. My roommate had more presence of mind, and so I was only beginning to put together what was going on when he opened the door and light from the hallway came flooding in.

"Campus Police," I heard one of the silhouettes announce. I thought it best to get up, and pulled my robe on over my boxers as I did so.

"Jin Katsuya?" the guard asked. My roommate shook his head no and pointed toward me. I squinted at the guard and the people behind him, trying to guess why they wanted me. I grabbed my glasses from my desk and hurried to the door. When I finally got a good look at the crowd in the hallway, I realized that behind the two uniformed officers and the dorm assistant stood a young man in the robes of the Emperor's court.

I bowed to him instinctively, in the way I'd been taught; lowering the torso and not the head. Not too low, because he was a messenger, neither royalty or particularly respected. Half-asleep and half-dressed as I was, it probably seemed unforgivably rude. I thought it only fair considering he'd woken me at -- I looked at the clock -- just past two in the morning.

The messenger moved forward, seeming to glide in his floor-length robes. He looked very self-important, a common trait in young men during their first years at court. When he came face to face with me and realized he was several inches shorter, he seemed disappointed. I resisted the temptation to smile.

"Jin of the Katsuya clan, cousin of the Emperor," he said in Japanese. It was neither a question nor an address, but an announcement. It began to occur to me that this chain of events was not just strange, but worrisome. Unless this young man had come to announce that all forty-six of the people in line for the Imperial throne before me had died, I was in very deep shit.

Other doors were beginning to open, and classmates were filtering into the hallway to watch. I found myself wondering if anyone else on my floor could understand his Japanese.

"You have called me," I answered with the expected response. Whatever was going on, fighting it wouldn't help.

The young man looked me up and down before continuing. "The Emperor has heard troubling reports that you study the sciences and magics of the barbarians."

"I do." I didn't like where this was going.

The messenger's expression got darker. "He is further troubled by reports that you have made agreements with the enemy rulers, to aid them in war against your country, your clan, and your emperor, in exchange for this education."

"To a degree. That is an... oversimplification." I'd realized that I couldn't go home again easily when I'd agreed to the Americans' scholarship program, but I hadn't expected a reaction this vehement.

"There is no middle ground, Jin. Either you stand with your Emperor or against him."

"I was never truly welcome in Japan anyway! I should think he'd be happy I was gone!" I let emotion get the better of me, breaking through the formalities.

The messenger pulled an envelope from his robe and handed it to me. "Your actions have placed you in opposition to your Lord, the Emperor, son of the Sun and a living god. You are hereby stripped of title, respect, and clan. You are no longer kin of the Emperor, and the gods rebuke you and burn their blood from your veins." He made a few quick gestures with his hands and then pressed a piece of paper against my forehead.

Suddenly my skin was itching, and the muscle beneath burning. I was being incinerated. My eyes boiled, my skin melted. I dropped to one knee, biting my lip. I would not scream. Every ounce of pain became anger, anger became pride, and pride would keep me from screaming. It seemed like days passed before the fire dimmed and I could see again. I didn't recognize the hallway tile beneathe me at first. I focused on my roommate's bare feet, and then the boots of the officers, and then the hem of the messenger's robe.

I looked up at him, flexing muscles that had burnt to a hard shell. My skin was intact. I was not physically injured, but I thought of his words. Burning the blood of the gods from my veins.

"If you return to the lands under the rising sun, you will be killed on sight," he said slowly. I could see the disbelief on his face. You weren't supposed to survive such a ceremony and still have eyes to see with. I was in pain, a great deal of it, but I was alive. How odd.

The young Japanese turned from me. He started down the hallway, campus police hurrying to follow him, not understanding what they'd just witnessed. Standing in front of the elevator, he spoke to me without turning. "I will tell him you did not scream."

If I'd realized what was going on at the time, I likely would have. As it was, I let my roommate drag me into the room and heft me into bed. I would have to thank him in the morning. The dorm advisor and several others started to follow him in. He sent them back out, saying "in the morning" over and over. The last to leave was a young man with dark hair who looked at me sadly and shook his head.

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