Beyond the Werefox Whistle
Written by Uehashi Nahoko
Illustrated by Yumiko Shirai
Part 2: The Cursed One and the Guardian
Chapter 1: Harumochi and Masamochi
The latticed windows of the grand castle of High King Iyotaikou were all open wide. Bright sunlight illuminated rice mats decorated with flowers layered over the wooden floors. Flower scents wafted in from the garden from the open windows. Spring was in the air.
Lord Harumochi found himself ushered into the magnificent audience chamber of Lord Iyotaikou. He didn’t see the sunshine and couldn’t smell the flowers. Everything around him was death.
Harumochi was a warrior in his prime, just shy of forty years old. His features were measured and kind; he didn’t look like a violent man. In most ways he wasn’t. He was known for being brave, but quiet. Some people spoke ill of him, saying that he was a fortunate man who had obtained a large territory to rule thanks to his father’s connections. Only those who knew him well respected him for his discretion and forthrightness.
High King Iyotaikou ruled over most of the nation, with Lord Harumochi ruling under him. Lord Harumochi’s father had indeed passed down rich lands for Harumochi to govern, but Harumochi had also inherited the grievances that people held against his father. All his days were an uphill battle against old resentment. There were times when he felt like he was under a curse.
With all his advantages and disadvantages, Lord Harumochi had done well for himself overall, at least up until now. His rule was secure, and he had an heir to rule after him.
Unfortunately, his heir and eldest son Yasumochi was dead.
Was that fall from his horse part of the curse? Harumochi asked himself.
After examining his son’s beloved horse, Dairou had said that there was no curse on the horse. Harumochi couldn’t believe that his son, who was a skilled rider, would be thrown off like that.
Maybe I’ve been fighting the curse for so long that I see the shadow of it in everything, Harumochi thought.
Harumochi’s rule had been stable for many years, but he didn’t expect there to be peace much longer. His heart ached in his chest for all that he’d lost, as a man and as a leader.
Yasumochi… You were born a warrior, and you were so bold. I never expected you to pass away before me.
Yasumochi had shown promise in swordsmanship and strategy from an early age. He was always so vital, so alive, like summer sunshine. If anyone could have defied a curse, it would have been him. He’d always been a dependable person: a perfect heir. Now that he was gone, Harumochi felt like there was a hole in the world.
Harumochi had pinned all his hopes for the future on his son. At first it seemed like the doctors and healers might be able to cure his injuries. Alas, they’d failed, and Harumochi’s raw nerves simmered in melancholia.
Harumochi, who was kneeling, straightened his back and touched his knees. Every battle he faced from now on, he would have to face alone. There was no time to lament.
Taking a deep breath, Harumochi raised his head. He heard silk rustling as High King Iyotaikou entered the room.
Harumochi kept his face down and waited for the High King to sit down in his place of honor.
Harumochi looked up at the white-haired, thin-faced man before him. High King Iyotaikou was old; his eyes were hooded by skin and he appeared constantly sleepy. But the gleam in his eyes was intelligent, and his aura was powerful even at his advanced age. He bore himself like a man who knew that he and he alone was the king.
“I am truly sorry about your son,” the High King said. He spoke formally, but also with real compassion. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes.
Harumochi’s grief threatened to overwhelm him. He nearly panicked and hid his face before he could cry openly in front of his superior. “Your kind words touch my heart.”
The High King’s brow furrowed. He stared at Harumochi intensely for a brief moment, then spoke slowly as if he were hand-selecting every word.
“I called you here just after the mourning period. We need to discuss what happens next. Raise your head, Yuuji no Harumochi.” The High King’s voice was deep and authoritative.
“Yes, my liege.”
Nobles serving the High King did so in exchange for advantage or land. They could earn rewards by distinguishing themselves in battle or civil service. A land granted to a noble and their family was called a territory. Territories were typically inherited by the eldest son of the noble’s family. If the eldest son died before claiming his inheritance, the territory would pass to a younger brother.
There were times when no direct male descendants were alive to inherit a noble’s territory. In those cases, the noble family would adopt a child, almost always from another noble family.
“You are still in the prime of your life, so you may have another child in the future. Any number of things could happen.” He wasn’t speaking loudly, but the High King’s voice carried clearly. “Considering your state of mind, it is difficult for me to discuss all of this right now. But it is my duty to consider the stability of my realm. I must declare a new heir for your territory. Leaving things as they are would lead to instability and unrest.”
Lord Harumochi nodded. The High King wasn’t speaking in specifics, but he knew that the High King was worried about Yuki. The borders had always been contentious between Yuki territory and Yuuji territory. The Lord of Yuki, Moritada, was the son of Harumochi’s father’s younger brother, so they were paternal cousins.
There was very little to stop Lord Moritada from laying claim to Yuuji territory as the new heir. He had a blood claim, and Yuuji territory bordered his own.
When Lord Harumochi pictured Lord Moritada’s face in his mind’s eye, his hands trembled with anger.
“I believe you to be a reasonable man,” the High King said. And that was all.
He’s giving me the choice, Harumochi thought. He closed his eyes.
The High King was making a request, not an order. He wasn’t going to take Harumochi’s territory from him. Then what did he expect? Harumochi knew that if he suggested adopting Moritada or a member of his family, the decision would be met with approval and possible rewards.
Harumochi opened his eyes. “I’m truly grateful for your kindness, High King…”
As he spoke, a flash of doubt troubled him. Should he really do this? Were there any better options? He didn’t think he could give his territory over to Moritada, even after his death. But what about Moritada’s second son, the one his own family rejected and discarded?
For years, there had been a terrible rift between the Yuuji and the Yuki families, but they were truly one broken family. Harumochi believed the rift was at least partly responsible for the curse upon the whole of his life. If he adopted Suketada, Moritada’s second son, maybe he would be taking the first step to heal the family’s brokenness.
It would be difficult. Can I really live my whole life knowing that the second son of that man will inherit everything that’s mine?
Harumochi felt like he was being burned from the inside out. He knew that the reasonable thing to do would be to yield to Moritada’s claim, either directly or through his second son. But the reasons for the resentment and hatred between the two families hadn’t gone anywhere.
When Harumochi spoke, his voice was thick with unshed tears and remembered pain. “As you say, High King, if my family has no more male heirs to inherit the territory, then the territory must adopt an heir from another noble family. If we are seeking to end the dispute with our neighboring territory, then a child from that territory would be ideal.”
The High King’s eyes sparkled with life. “Well said! I’ve always thought well of you, Lord Harumochi.” He sounded openly relieved, but then he saw the frown on Harumochi’s face and ceased speaking. He understood that making this choice had cost Lord Harumochi something that couldn’t easily be put into words.
“I expect there’s no need to rush headlong into things,” Lord Harumochi said. “I ask to wait another two weeks to decide on the succession.”
“Two weeks?”
“If it may be permitted, High King.”
The High King frowned because of the grimness of his thoughts.. Lord Harumochi stared at him, intense and serious. He got the sense that Lord Harumochi was attempting to convey something important, but all the High King could sense was Lord Harumochi’s desperation.
That desperation was deep and strong.
“Very well,” the High King said. “You won’t die today, or tomorrow, I’ll warrant. We will wait.”
Lord Harumochi appeared openly relieved. “I thank you, High King.”
Now, I have no other choice, Harumochi thought to himself.
During his father’s time, there had been many powerful sorcerers that nobles had employed to keep their territories safe. There were no strong sorcerers now, and parts of the land were wild. He was worried, not just about adopting a child, but getting them safely from Yuki to Yuuji territory.
But no matter the danger—or any other factor or excuse—Harumochi’s course was set. Everything would be decided in the next two weeks, for good or ill.
Harumochi gritted his teeth and begged the spirits of his ancestors to watch over him.
***
“Well? Did Harumochi say he would adopt a child, or not?” Lord Yuki no Moritada snapped. He spun sharply and glared at Kuna, the sorcerer who was standing behind him.
Moritada was an angular man with a short nose and a long face. He looked quite similar to Harumochi, though his eyes were significantly larger and his strength was wiry, not thick-muscled. If Harumochi was a flame, then Moritada was its shadow. His large eyes in a compact face made him look determined, and at worst deranged. He was skilled at blending into crowds and making himself invisible unless he wanted to be seen.
“The hakage are not sure because no one is sure,” Kuna explained patiently. “We have one who lives in the High King’s shadow. Lord Harumochi did not say he would adopt a child, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t, either. He asked for time. It seems like he hasn’t made up his mind yet.”
Moritada waved a dismissive hand. “What is there to consider? He has no sons or daughters living; he has no choice but to adopt someone. The High King values lineage highly. He would not permit me to set aside my own bloodline and adopt a child from a completely unrelated family; he won’t let Harumochi either. It stands to reason that he’ll adopt Suketada. He doesn’t have any other choice. Yet he asked for two weeks… why? What is he planning?”
Lord Moritada looked out the window, peering into the shadows of the mountains in the distance.
“Mt. Oro. Beyond that lies the Sugitani River and Wakasa Fields. The river flows with abundant water. Ever since they took away our water, our people have suffered. It seems that their suffering will finally end.” Moritada clenched his fist and kept his eyes on the mountains.
Kuna smiled briefly, but there was no joy in it. The smile died on his lips.
Many other rivers fed into the Sugitani River. That was why its loss was so devastating. Having an enemy control the river crippled trade as well as agriculture. It was also a military threat: the Yuuji family could send troops or armed guards whenever they liked and the Yuki family had no easy way to respond or defend themselves.
“It’s not just the people who are suffering,” Kuna said. He took in Lord Moritada in profile as the man grieved for the deprivations of his people. Kuna felt saddened and troubled himself, but tried not to let it show.
Moritada nodded at him in a perfunctory way. He kept glaring at Mt. Oro.
There was so much of Yoshitada in Moritada. That made sense; Yoshitada was Moritada’s father.
Masamochi, Harumochi’s father, had a reputation for being greedy as well as successful. He’d achieved great deeds in battle and had taken control and sole ownership of Wakasa Fields for himself. The Yuki family had mocked Yoshitada after this, calling him a useless son-in-law who had allowed his brother to snatch away the water source that people had been fighting bloody wars over for generations.
Yoshitada had been adopted from the Yuuji family, but no one had ever considered him a Yuuji, nor did they fully consider him a member of the Yuki family. He was an eternal outsider. He had eventually inherited the Yuki territory, little good though it did him. And Moritada was following in his footsteps, overshadowed and shunned by a stronger family that should have been his own.
Moritada had grown up witnessing his father’s humiliation. He had suffered humiliation himself. He would never forget such bitter memories. Remembering always made him burn with righteous fury. His only desire was to wrest control of Wakasa Fields away from the Yuuji family, if only to prove that he could. No matter how many years passed, that desire remained consistent.
I will definitely take back Wakasa Fields from the Yuuji family and place a cherry blossom branch on my father’s grave, 1 Moritada thought.
Moritada slowly turned around and looked at the man. “Kuna. Find out what Harumochi is thinking. I want to know if he’s hiding something. Eliminate every obstacle in our way. Use the hakage as much as possible, but don’t risk exposing what we’re doing. We need to be sure of Harumochi’s intentions before we act. I’m relying on you and your familiars, sorcerer.”
“I understand. But you must also understand that the number of familiars has decreased since my father’s time. I request that a few sensible hakage be assigned to me to act on my behalf. They should be able to discover Harumochi’s plans. We’ll need to move a small number of hakage to different positions temporarily, but that should be doable.” Kuna kept his eyes down, but spoke to Moritada with an easy familiarity.
When Moritada said nothing in reply, Kuna looked up. As he gazed into Moritada’s face, he thought the man looked too pale. It was as if the color was gradually fading from his skin and eyes.
Kuna had served Moritada since Moritada’s boyhood. They relied on one another. Seeing Moritada fade like this always made Kuna feel deeply uneasy. It was like Moritada’s life was melting away. While Moritada lived, Kuna would do everything in his power to make him happy. They had to reclaim Wakasa Fields for Yuki no matter what.
“Very well. I shall leave matters to you,” Moritada said.
Kuna stood up straight, then bowed. He was about to leave when he remembered one other matter. “I have one more request. I know the harvest was poor last year. I’ve heard that you’ll be increasing the amount of labor expected of the farmers this year. Could you hold off on doing that, at least for a little while?”
Moritada frowned. “If we don’t direct enough manpower to the fields, won’t our people starve?”
“I’m thinking ahead,” Kuna said. “The people need a bit of free time so we can stir them up. They had to work so hard for so little gain last year because the Yuuji family has control of Wakasa Fields. Hatred has power—the same power as a curse. By concentrating the people’s hatred toward Haruna, we’ll increase our luck. When the amount of labor they’re supposed to do suddenly increases overnight, they’ll blame the Yuuji family and Lord Harumochi even more. If we don’t direct the people’s hatred at an appropriate target, I’ll wind up leaving this world even earlier than my father did.”
With that, Kuna bowed his head, spun on his heel, and stalked soundlessly down the hallway.
Translator's Note
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