Yatagarasu Series 10 - The Raven's Autumn Full Moon - Part 3: Nagihiko

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 10: 

The Raven's Autumn Full Moon

Author: Abe Chisato

Part 3: Nagihiko

Nagihiko had two mothers.

His birth mother, Empress Asebi of Touke, had brought him into this world. Nagihiko had never seen her raise her voice in anger to anyone. She was always gentle, graceful, and beautiful. Even if she were not an empress, Nagihiko would have loved her and been proud of her.

His other mother was Duchess Futaba, his mother’s older sister. She was in charge of his education. Futaba was kind like Asebi, but she was also strict.

As a child, Nagihiko was lively and full of mischief. He wrestled and played tag with his playmates—usually young ladies-in-waiting and imperial attendants. He practiced archery with a little bow and pierced exquisite folding screens with short arrows when he inevitably missed. Once he became curious about how the hanging lanterns that burned sugar lumps worked and took one apart so thoroughly that it could never be repaired.

Nagihiko became the emperor of Yamauchi at a very young age, but Futaba was never intimidated by him or his power. If he did something wrong, she would punish him. When he endangered himself with his pranks, she scolded him without mercy. When he neglected his studies or his manners, she would patiently explain why he must attend to them.

Nagihiko loved Futaba more than anyone because he knew that her severity sprang from affection. Whenever he was ill and feverish, she would stay by his bedside all night and nurse him. She praised him to the sky when he recited Chinese classical poems correctly. She was nearly always with him, helping him with his studies, listening to his cares, indulging him or punishing him based on his behavior. Futaba made sense to him, and he knew she cared for him. She rarely lost her composure.

Unfortunately, the one thing that put Futaba out of sorts was close contact with Asebi, her sister and Nagihiko’s birth mother.

Nagihiko was already the emperor when he became aware of this. He had left the Inner Palace and had his own quarters by then, so he wasn’t able to see Asebi as often as before.

At their occasional meetings, his mother was delighted to see him. She fussed over him and asked if there was anything troubling him. She brought sweet snacks and unusual toys to him during their visits and spent time playing with him. Sometimes she would bring out a small bow and shoot at targets with him. Other times, she even wrestled with him.

Nagihiko’s favorite activity to share with his mother was playing music. His mother was a highly skilled player of the nagon. Her musicianship was second to none, even within the Imperial Court. She could play even the most difficult pieces with ease. She was also able to improvise as he accompanied her clumsily on his dragon flute.

Perhaps because Nagihiko’s behavior was usually so restricted in public, his private moments with his birth mother were precious to him.

Whenever Asebi visited, Futaba was a silent audience. She never spoke to Asebi unless Asebi spoke to her first. She wouldn’t leave Nagihiko alone with Asebi, ever. Asebi spoke to Futaba and asked questions. Futaba answered her sister with clinical detachment, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Nagihiko noticed the tension between his mothers, but he couldn’t explain it. One day after Asebi visited, Nagihiko asked, “Why are you so mean to Asebi, Futaba?”

Futaba ripped Nagihiko’s new toy from his hand. It was a little handcart that Asebi had just given him, made of delicate silver pieces and red glass. The handcart made a little tinkling sound when the wheels spun. The toy was charming; Nagihiko had heard that it was popular in the city.

Before Nagihiko could object, Futaba cast the toy upon the ground and crushed it beneath her heel.

Nagihiko’s attendants screamed. Then there was silence.

Stunned by this sudden act of violence, Nagihiko stood still, amazed and terrified.

Futaba looked down at him. There was no expression at all on her face. Her eyes were pitch black.

“What is Your Imperial Majesty thinking right now?” Futaba asked. Her voice was eerily calm. “What a terrible thing to do. I can’t forgive Futaba. Is that what you’re thinking?”

Nagihiko didn’t dare speak. His mind was blank. He was so shocked by Futaba’s behavior that his thoughts had not had time to arrange themselves into logical patterns.

Futaba didn’t wait for his reply. “It is only natural to think that way. When something precious to you is destroyed, anyone would feel the same.” Her dark eyes searched his face as she continued, “Your mother did something like this to me.”

Nagihiko’s attendants remained silent.

Blood seeped from Futaba’s shoe onto the stone floor. Nagihiko noticed first and pointed. “Futaba, you’re hurt!”

Futaba’s face softened. She sighed and then pulled the hem of her robe down to hide her injured foot. “I am sorry. It was pointless of me to say such things to you, Your Imperial Majesty. I shall have a new handcart prepared for you at once. One that is much, much finer than that one.”

Futaba smiled sweetly. She seemed like her usual self.

Nagihiko couldn’t forget what she’d said or done. He knew now that Futaba felt strongly about Asebi, and those feelings were negative. He wished he understood why.

Not long after that, three new handcarts arrived for him to play with, but Nagihiko didn’t feel like playing with them at all.

Why were his mothers enemies? He asked those around him out of curiosity. His personal attendants didn’t give him clear answers. Some didn’t know. Others knew, but wouldn’t tell him. He knew that something had happened between them, but he couldn’t possibly guess what, or when.

He finally got some kind of answer out of Ukogi, Asebi’s personal attendant. Ukogi had taken care of him when he was small, before Futaba took over his education.

Ukogi was quite advanced in years and lived as a priestess at a temple. Nobles often took religious vows and retired to temples as they aged. Ukogi’s temple was adjacent to the one where the imperial family worshiped the mountain god. Nagihiko’s movements were severely restricted, but he was permitted to visit temples occasionally.

During his next temple visit, Nagihiko sought out Ukogi and told her what he’d seen Futaba do.

Ukogi frowned. “To think that she would do such a thing in Your Imperial Majesty’s presence…” She paled as Nagihiko told her more details.

“Ukogi, you know what happened, don’t you?” he asked.

She was reluctant to answer, but she couldn’t refuse to. He was the emperor, after all. “This happened long, long before you were born, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said.

Ukogi told Nagihiko about the last Rite of Ascension. Each of the Four Families could send only one duchess as a representative of their families. Futaba had been selected to assume this role, but due to unforeseen circumstances, Asebi was sent in her place.

“Unforeseen circumstances?” Nagihiko asked.

“Yes. Duchess Asebi had no intention of taking Duchess Futaba’s place, but Duchess Futaba believes that Duchess Asebi sabotaged her deliberately.”

Nagihiko gave this revelation serious thought. “But if it is all a misunderstanding, shouldn’t they work through it? I think my mother Asebi suffers because of it. Surely if we explained things to Futaba, she would forgive her sister?”

“They will not be reconciled,” Ukogi said firmly, her voice shrill.

“Why not?”

“Reconciliation has been attempted, Your Imperial Majesty. I have spoken to Duchess Futaba myself about this matter. She is obstinate and will not listen or forgive.”

Now that Nagihiko was older, he understood the unique pressure that the Rite of Ascension put on noblewomen like Asebi and Futaba a little more. His own Rite of Ascension ceremony was now taking place. He knew that Futaba had been raised to be her family’s representative. At the last moment, that role had been snatched from her by her younger sister.

When they spoke of Futaba, Ukogi always seemed to pity her. She explained to Nagihiko that Futaba’s life had been carefully planned, and that she had lost her entire future in an instant.

“The Rite of Ascension is competitive. There is not just friction between families, but friction within families. Some people stand to benefit from creating a rift between Duchess Futaba and Empress Asebi, and those people have been busy for the past few decades. Such people poisoned Duchess Futaba’s mind against her sister. There is no fixing that now.”

Ukogi frowned bitterly. “Listen carefully, Your Imperial Majesty. From now on, there will be many people who will try to slander your poor mother. You must never believe them.”

“I understand.” Nagihiko nodded many times. “Don’t worry. I know my mother better than anyone. I won’t believe any lies about her.”

Ukogi’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Ah, I am already so old,” she said. “I served Duchess Asebi when she was still a young girl, and she is an empress now. She has remained pure of heart for her entire life, despite her cares and responsibilities. I worry about her. Please believe in your mother’s goodness, Your Imperial Majesty. You must protect her in my stead.” She knelt on the floor and bowed until her forehead touched the floor.

Nagihiko was deeply moved. “I will protect my mother, of course. I swear it to you, Ukogi.” He took Ukogi’s hands in his own and squeezed.

Ukogi wept for joy as she gripped his hands reverently.

***

Since then, Nagihiko had tried to mediate between his mother and Futaba. He soon learned that his attempts were futile. Their relationship was as cold as ice. Asebi showed consideration to Futaba in many ways, but this was never reciprocated. Whenever Nagihiko took Asebi’s side on a question or during an argument, Futaba’s mood instantly soured.

Nagihiko was baffled. Had they always been like this, and he had only noticed after the incident with the handcart? Perhaps Futaba had tried to conceal her dislike of her sister before, at least when he was present.

“I am already treating Her Imperial Majesty with all due courtesy,” Futaba said with frustrated patience. “What else would you command me to do, Your Imperial Majesty? Is it your will to please Empress Asebi above all else? Do my own feelings mean nothing to you? If Empress Asebi is happy and I am miserable, will that suffice?”

She told him that he had no idea of how badly Asebi had treated her in the past. She wouldn’t forgive Asebi, ever. She wouldn’t forgive Nagihiko until he apologized for upsetting her and said that she was right.

Nagihiko wanted to defend his mother, but he didn’t want to hurt Futaba. It was clear that Futaba was jealous of Asebi. He couldn’t accept Futaba’s claims at face value.

Futaba transformed into a frightening ogre whenever Asebi was mentioned. But she was also Nagihiko’s second mother—his patient teacher, his friend, his family. As he grew up, Nagihiko learned to read her moods and did his best to keep her happy. He couldn’t remain a reckless child forever.

Developing the maturity required to navigate the complicated relationship between his mothers would serve Nagihiko well later in life.

***

Nagihiko was not born an imperial prince.

He scarcely remembered his father, Natsumihiko. He had already taken the tonsure and become a monk when Nagihiko was born. He and Asebi had not been married when Nagihiko was conceived. Nagihiko should have lived out his life as a priest, as many noble and imperial bastards did.

When Nagihiko was still a toddler, his father had elevated Nagihiko and deposed his older half-brother, Prince Natsuka. Natsuka had been tainted by association with the Nanke family, which was responsible for Emperor Nazukihiko’s assassination. Everyone accepted that Nagihiko would be the emperor after his father died.

Unfortunately, Nagihiko’s father died when he was very young, so he wound up becoming the emperor of Yamauchi much sooner than anticipated. He was too young to understand politics when he ascended to the throne. The Yellow Raven was the one who was actually in charge of governing. Nagihiko was supposed to do exactly as the Yellow Raven said—no more, no less. He understood his role down to the marrow of his bones.

Nagihiko had never been shouted at or openly threatened. On the contrary, the Yellow Raven was always perfectly courteous to him. But Nagihiko knew that the Yellow Raven didn’t respect him. He might not respect anyone. It was so difficult to tell.

The first time Nagihiko realized that the Yellow Raven had no respect for him was during an audience conducted in the Imperial Court. Only noblemen and high-ranking officials were permitted to attend. Sitting quietly while adults talked bored the young emperor, so he pestered the Yellow Raven to pick him up and hold him.

The look the Yellow Raven gave him then would remain in Nagihiko’s memory for the rest of his life.

The Yellow Raven didn’t pick him up. He didn’t soothe or rebuke Nagihiko. But the look on his face expressed nothing but scorn. Nagihiko had never been looked at in such a way before. He hadn’t been aware that other people could hate him until that moment.

He’d been scolded and punished before, of course. Futaba was usually kind, but she didn’t spoil him. He knew that he’d get in trouble if he misbehaved. He’d also witnessed Futaba’s cold hatred toward Asebi. He’d never imagined having such a terrifying emotion directed at himself.

The Yellow Raven loathed him. Nagihiko knew that as empirical fact. If he offended the Yellow Raven enough, he would be disposed of. He understood this instinctively.

That look was so shocking because the Yellow Raven had always treated him with courtesy and politeness. Nagihiko hadn’t expected the change. He remembered trembling and holding back tears. He didn’t want the Yellow Raven to hate him any more than he already did.

After that, Nagihiko never fussed or complained during official business. His attendants praised and pampered him for his comportment. Nagihiko didn’t feel accomplished or grown-up. Only his fear of the Yellow Raven kept him docile and well-behaved.

Nagihiko learned that what people said and what they did wouldn’t always match. This scared him, too. Pleasant words and compliments meant nothing. Only actions had meaning. He came to understand the precariousness of his own position through the Yellow Raven’s contemptuous gaze.

As he grew up, he learned that even his closest attendants were in the Yellow Raven’s employ. His playmates among nobles were all personally selected by the Yellow Raven; they would be his attendants when he was an adult. The Four Families had some influence in the Imperial Court, but it paled in comparison to the Yellow Raven’s.

Nagihiko was expected to take on more of the responsibilities of government as he grew older. His heart felt heavier with each passing year. The lightness and joy of his early youth was long gone.

Sometimes he wondered if things would be easier if he allowed himself to behave arrogantly, but he didn’t dare. The Yellow Raven didn’t need more reasons to get rid of him. Nagihiko was scrupulous and careful because he desired to live. He hoped that as long as he was useful to the Yellow Raven, he wouldn’t be discarded like the handcart Futaba had dashed to pieces on the floor. He was grateful for his heightened sense of awareness. If he had failed to notice the contempt in the Yellow Raven’s gaze that day, he would surely have been replaced by someone else by now.

The Yellow Raven did not exist to serve Emperor Nagihiko. It was the other way around, and everyone knew it.

No one had known about Nagihiko until his father had legitimized him as a toddler. Nagihiko suspected that the Yellow Raven had another candidate for emperor waiting in the wings. He didn’t need to know who that person was to fear them.

At fourteen, Nagihiko accepted that he would likely live his entire life for the benefit of other people. He couldn’t trust anyone or make genuine friends. Perhaps this was true of all imperial nobles. He wished he had someone that he could safely ask.

He didn’t trust the duchesses sent to the Rite of Ascension, of course. One would become his wife, but that didn’t make it wise to confide in her. There was no one he could confide in at all.

***

“Please look, Your Imperial Majesty. See how splendid the festival robes are!”

One of Nagihiko’s attendants gestured toward the viewing platform of the Boys’ Day Festival. Many women were gathered there, but they were mostly hidden from view by bamboo screens. Only the hems of their kimonos were clearly visible.

The kimonos were as brightly colored as summer flowers. Based on their color schemes, he could guess where each of the duchesses was sitting with her attendants.

“Simply imagine it! Four beautiful duchesses are gazing at Your Imperial Majesty from behind those screens,” the attendant said. “Don’t they make a lovely picture?” The man gave him a suggestive glance.

Emperor Nagihiko smiled. “I am sure the duchesses are looking at the archers, not my poor self.”

“That is not so. Look! That pale purple silk kimono must be Duchess Hotaru’s. Your Imperial Majesty should wave to her. She would be delighted.”

Emperor Nagihiko frowned.

The attendant speaking to him was Yoshimichi. He was one of Nagihiko’s personal attendants and had served him longer than anyone else.

He was probably being so zealous because Nagihiko showed no interest in the duchesses whatsoever.

Duchess Hotaru would be his empress. Nagihiko had been curious about her, so he’d gone to meet her first out of all the duchesses. He had expected her to be forthright and formidable. The quiet ghost of a woman who’d spoken with him in the Summer Hall had disappointed him. She had been vague about her own thoughts and feelings. In hindsight, he considered that she might have been more nervous than he was. Their visit had ended awkwardly; neither of them had learned much about the other.

All Nagihiko knew about Hotaru for sure was that she was well-educated and polite. He didn’t want her for his wife. He couldn’t envision marrying her and sharing a life with her. She didn’t feel special to him.

“I don’t dislike her,” Emperor Nagihiko said to Yoshimichi. “She will be the empress. Isn’t that enough?”

Yoshimichi shook his head.

“No, Your Imperial Majesty. Certainly, selecting an empress is important, but that alone is not enough. Yamauchi needs an imperial heir. You must feel true affection for the duchess you shall wed.”

The absence of a legitimate imperial heir was destabilizing for Yamauchi. Nagihiko understood that well enough. He’d been told to beget a child repeatedly since he could walk—long before he knew what “begetting” meant. Even after he knew, he was less than enthusiastic about the idea. If the Yellow Raven had a new imperial heir to mold to his specifications, there would be no reason for him to let Nagihiko live. Every time someone told Nagihiko to get an heir, he felt cold and abandoned inside.

Yoshimichi noticed that his words weren’t having the desired effect. He spoke with even greater fervor. “What do you think of Duchess Yamabuki, Your Imperial Majesty? I have heard that she is quite charming.”

“Duchess Yamabuki…” Emperor Nagihiko recollected his visit to her in the Spring Hall. He’d visited her shortly after going to see Duchess Hotaru in the Summer Hall.

When Nagihiko had entered the Spring Hall, Duchess Yamabuki had gazed lovingly into his eyes. She’d blushed and looked away briefly. Her expression and body language made him think that she adored him.

But they had only just met, and Nagihiko wasn’t fooled. She is clever, he thought. He felt no particular attraction to her. There was nothing obviously wrong with her, but he had grown up in the Imperial Palace surrounded by sycophantic nobles. He couldn’t always tell when people were lying to him, but he was better at seeing through other people’s masks than most.

He could tell that Duchess Yamabuki’s expressions and reactions were all carefully calculated. She was experienced at promoting herself. She spoke passionately about her home and how much she admired Nagihiko. She told him she was happy that she would be his concubine. Her performance was almost believable, but it was too perfect; too curated. They enjoyed a meal together and then she played a song for him on the nagon. She was not skilled at the instrument. Playing the song took considerable effort. The frustration he’d seen on her face might be the only glimpse of her true self that he’d seen during their visit.

When he’d praised her—that was only polite—she’d secured a promise that next time, they would perform together. At parting, she’d told him that she would do her utmost to support him as his concubine. He believed her, but only because her power in the Imperial Palace would derive through him.

Duchess Yamabuki’s conduct was flawless, but he had no idea who she actually was. She appeared adorable and endearing, but she was a liar. Hotaru concealed her true feelings from him, but she did not lie, so she was easier to understand.

“Indeed, she is perfectly endearing,” Emperor Nagihiko said without enthusiasm.

Yoshimichi’s face fell.

Before he could say more, Emperor Nagihiko directed his attention to the festival. “The ceremony is about to begin.”

Yoshimichi stood up straighter, clearly unhappy. He glanced toward the duchesses behind their bamboo screens. Their colorful clothes fluttered in the summer breeze.

Emperor Nagihiko considered the other two duchesses that Yoshimichi hadn’t mentioned for a few moments. He had no particular feelings for either of them, either.

Duchess Tsuru ga Oto was appalling. She’d thoroughly overreacted to his visit. The moment they’d met, she’d reproached him.

“Your coming to the Winter Hall is an insult to the other duchesses!” she’d said, her face flaming red.

For all her bluster, she was happier than any of the other duchesses when he’d visited her. He had only done it to show courtesy to the Hokke family. Tsuru ga Oto had been so high-spirited that being in her presence made Nagihiko feel moderately ill. She’d droned on and on about how much she respected the Yellow Raven and how wonderful Hokke Territory was. Since they were alone, there was no one who could put a stop to her terrible monologue. If Nagihiko had dared to interrupt her, it would have been indescribably rude. When Tsuru ga Oto had finally, blissfully stopped speaking, it was nearly dawn, and he’d been desperate to leave her behind. The moment the door to the Winter Hall had closed, Nagihiko had let out a sigh of relief.

In sharp contrast to Duchess Tsuru ga Oto, Duchess Katsura no Hana of Saike inspired only pity. He had not initially planned to visit the Autumn Hall, but just before the Doll Festival, he learned that she’d been subjected to spiteful harassment by Duchess Tsuru ga Oto. Empress Asebi felt very sorry for the girl and asked him to show her some consideration.

Emperor Nagihiko had asked the Yellow Raven if it would be appropriate for him to go to the Autumn Hall. The Yellow Raven had not forbidden the visit.

“If you believe that you should make an appearance, then go,” he’d said.

The dolls that the Saike family had made for the Doll Festival that year were exceedingly well-made. The Saike family and nobles allied with them grumbled when they learned that Duchess Katsura no Hana was being slighted and insulted in Sakura Palace. Some of those grumblers complained that it was unfair for her not to receive a visit from the emperor when all the other duchesses had.

The Saike family had relatively little sway in the Imperial Court, but the Yellow Raven had acquiesced to the visit easily enough. It would do little harm to ignore the Saike family’s wishes, but there was also no reason to create unnecessary friction in the Imperial Court.

When Nagihiko had visited Duchess Katsura no Hana, he’d found a frightened girl hiding behind a brave mask. She’d been confused and horrified by his visit. She’d said nothing to reproach him, as Duchess Tsuru ga Oto had done, but it was obvious that she had never expected a visit from him, nor did she welcome one. She understood her own position very well. She was far easier to talk to than the other three duchesses, so her clear fright made her all the more pitiable to him. He’d never intended to harm her. He hoped his visit didn’t make things more difficult for her in Sakura Palace.

Nagihiko gazed absent-mindedly at the colorful hems on the viewing platform.

He had visited all four duchesses. He felt nothing toward them but a sense of obligation.

Whenever he thought of Futaba and Asebi, he grew uneasy. Asebi, widowed early, always behaved with great dignity. Futaba’s eyes were steeped in hatred whenever she looked at her sister. They were both powerful women in the Imperial Court. He cared deeply about them both and knew that they were not happy. They had never been happy.

The Yellow Raven told Nagihiko that his most important duty was to attend to his responsibilities as emperor. His only goal was for Emperor Nagihiko to produce a legitimate heir.

Emperor Nagihiko had no confidence that he could make a wife or a concubine happy. He wanted to be honest and sincere with the duchesses, but he knew that sincerity wouldn’t help him or them. There was nothing he could do for them.

There was nothing he could do for himself.

***

Almost as soon as the ceremony began, Emperor Nagihiko noticed a subtle shift in the crowd’s attention.

The duchesses watched the Boys’ Festival from behind bamboo blinds, but many imperial officials and attendants watched in the open air while performing their ceremonial duties. Emperor Nagihiko noticed that there was someone among those attendants and officials who had more eyes on them than he or the archers and riders did.

A flash of pale blue caught the emperor’s eye. All eyes tracked to a lowly imperial attendant with short hair and dark eyes. A rakujō. He’d heard that there was a new rakujō in the Imperial Court.

The emperor drew in a sharp breath when he glimpsed the rakujō in profile. Her nose was perfectly straight and slender. The contoured line from her chin to her neck was the picture of elegance. He could not recall finding a face so beautiful before.

Like so many others in the crowd, Emperor Nagihiko couldn’t take his eyes off the rakujō.

Seeing such a young woman’s face exposed felt vaguely shameful and wrong. He felt like he was not meant to see her, but he couldn’t compel himself to look away.

As he stared, Emperor Nagihiko remembered the rumors he’d heard about her. The rakujō was the Lord of Saike’s niece. He had spoken to the Lord of Saike recently to confirm his visit to the Autumn Hall. The rakujō’s mother, Masuho no Susuki, had been closely connected to his assassinated elder half-brother.

Emperor Nagihiko felt dejected. The rakujō would not view him with desire or even friendliness.

Then the rakujō looked his way.

Their eyes met. Nagihiko struggled to hold her gaze. She gave him a brilliant smile.

Shock hit Nagihiko first, followed by a wave of complicated emotion. No one had ever smiled at him like that. It was not fawning, fearful, or maternal. What was it? There was a challenge hidden somewhere in that smile, for all that it looked so easy and natural.

“Your Imperial Majesty?” the rakujō asked. She had come closer to him without his fully noticing. She held out a polished dish piled high with rice cakes and dropped to her knees. “Please examine them, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Her voice was like tinkling bells. She was still smiling, though her face was respectfully lowered.

That smile overwhelmed Emperor Nagihiko. He saw no flaw in her. She resembled a work of art more than a living woman, but there was too much vitality in her for her to be a statue or a painting.

Someone else addressed him—he didn’t know who—and snapped him out of his thoughts. The ceremony was over. He couldn’t remember most of it. He was astonished at how absentminded he’d been.

Yoshimichi asked if he was feeling unwell, sounding somewhat suspicious.

“I am fine,” Nagihiko said. He wasn’t fine at all.

He visited Sakura Palace, as was customary. When he returned to his chambers after speaking to the four duchesses, he could scarcely recall what they’d said. He must have watched them dance and perform music in the garden among the blooming irises, but the rakujō’s smile was the only thing he could clearly remember.

Days passed, and he still saw the rakujō’s dazzling smile in his mind. On the third day since the Boys’ Day Festival, he summoned Yoshimichi and said, “I would like to speak with that rakujō.”

A short time later, the rakujō entered an audience chamber that was semi-private and used for clandestine ceremonies within the Imperial Palace. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it.

“What business might you have with me, Your Imperial Majesty?” the rakujō asked.

Yoshimichi frowned at her directness, which was just shy of being rude.

Emperor Nagihiko wasn’t offended. He found her candor refreshing. He had been thinking about her constantly since the Boys’ Day Festival. She was beautiful, but so were many women. Could her looks alone be the source of his fascination?

The Rite of Ascension was in progress. Nagihiko’s wife had already been chosen for him. The rakujō before him had renounced her social rank to become a government official. They were not well matched; he knew that. He was disturbed that he felt so attracted to her. He wanted to figure out why.

That was why he’d decided to meet her. He would think himself in circles if he didn’t do something about this sudden and inconvenient fixation.

Now that he had met with her privately and spoken to her face-to-face, he knew more about her. She was not afraid of him. She was not trying to win his favor for her own sake or the sake of others. It was almost like she didn’t know he was the emperor—or like she didn’t care. That was what made her so different from everyone else.

Her disregard for his rank and role made one thing more difficult to understand, not less.

“I want to ask you about what happened at the Boys’ Day Festival.”

“Oh? Did I do something disrespectful, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“No, not exactly. But when our eyes met, you smiled at me. Why did you smile?”

The rakujō blinked in puzzlement. “Well, we were looking at each other.”

Her immediate, unhesitating reply left Nagihiko speechless for a moment. “Do you smile at everyone who looks at you in the same way?” he asked.

“No, not everyone, but you are the emperor, Your Imperial Majesty. If I had looked at you and showed no reaction at all, wouldn’t that have been rude?”

Her blunt answer made Nagihiko deflate. She had a point. If she had looked at him and frowned, or just kept her face blank, her behavior would have been considered discourteous. He felt embarrassed for assigning special significance to her smile. He thought it had meant something. Perhaps it hadn’t.

“If you keep smiling at people like that, some will get the wrong idea,” Nagihiko said before he could consider his words.

The rakujō laughed. “But Your Imperial Majesty didn’t, surely? That is why you found it strange and summoned me to ask me about it. I understand now. I assure you that I am most careful about the people I choose to curry favor with, Your Imperial Majesty. There is no need for concern.”

The words “curry favor” made Nagihiko step back.

“I have heard some… unflattering reports, concerning you,” Nagihiko said, selecting his words more carefully now. “I thought it only natural that a new rakujō would encounter the usual difficulties in the Imperial Court. Do you truly curry favor with smiles and attention?”

“My phrasing was badly chosen,” the rakujō said. She gave him an awkward smile. “I do not know what rumors have reached Your Imperial Majesty’s ears, but as you surmise, there are many people who dislike me simply because I am a rakujō. The moment I incur their displeasure, I am treated as an enemy. I merely strive to remain as pleasant and smiling as I can.”

Her answer made Nagihiko feel relieved. “Hearing you speak is enough to make me aware of some of your hardships. I can imagine some of them, at least. Why did you choose to become a rakujō? You must have foreseen at least some of the difficulties you face.”

The rakujō’s expression became solemn. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I didn’t become a rakujō because I wanted to.”

“Truly?”

He had heard differently. The rumors claimed that she had become a rakujō and entered the Imperial Court at the lowest rank deliberately. She could have used the Shadow Rank system to select any position she wanted, but she hadn’t done that. Based on what he knew of her, he’d assumed that she had wanted to become a rakujō very much. Had he been mistaken?

She nodded her head firmly. “There is a significant difference between wanting to do something and needing to. I take pride in being a woman and have never wished to become a man, but I would not be allowed to participate in government as a woman. I had no choice but to become a rakujō.”

Nagihiko sensed a hidden emotion beneath her light tone.

“I consider this a serious problem,” the rakujō said. “I know several women who I think are uniquely suited to governance and politics. They manage their own households far better than I could, never mind their husbands. The Yellow Raven champions meritocracy, and I am wholeheartedly in favor of that. Yet when we try to make full use of every person’s capabilities, meaningless distinctions between men and women become obstacles. Now that I have the authority to be involved in government, I hope to make the Yellow Raven’s dream of true meritocracy a reality.”

Nagihiko let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. I see. So this is why she chose to become a rakujō, he thought. Privately he believed her way of thinking was too extreme to be accepted by the Imperial Court as a whole, but he respected that she had her own principles and ideals. She was as lovely as a porcelain doll, but her true beauty might be her inner purity of spirit.

“What kind of work do you usually do?” Nagihiko asked.

“I am nominally an attendant to the Lord of Saike, but in reality I handle various odd jobs in different places. Lately, I have been spending long hours in the Imperial Scriptorium.”

She was interested in glitter prints. She said she had recently gone to a play that was producing glitter prints of actresses dressed up to resemble the four duchesses currently residing in Sakura Palace.

Nagihiko had no idea such a play existed. He thought about glitter prints. Were there glitter prints of him, glamorized so that he appeared desirable? No one should look at me and envy my life, he thought bitterly. He thought the same of the duchesses. A beautiful exterior meant nothing, really. It was empty show and spectacle.

“Anything else?” he asked when the rakujō stopped speaking.

“Let me see… I also visited the Foreign Language Society.”

“You’re interested in the human world?”

Even after the Yellow Raven’s new regime was established, only a small number of people ever studied abroad in the human world. These were usually members of the Nanke family or particularly talented Yamauchishu. The Nanke family held a monopoly on trade with the Tengu, who served as intermediaries between Yamauchi and the human world. Most members of the Foreign Language Society were connected to the Nanke family and the Tengu in some way.

“Yes. I can understand human language to some extent, so I thought I would like to study at the Foreign Language Society. But when I visited, I ended up startling them. They treated me politely, but I was not very welcome.”

Nagihiko thought about how flustered the Nanke family must have been when a duchess from the Saike family suddenly barged in on them. He was about to offer words of sympathy to her when his mind snagged on a strange detail.

“You understand human language? But you’re from the Saike family. How did you learn it?”

“My father was a Yamauchishu. People who studied abroad often visited our home. They taught me various things. I learned more on my own. The human world is fascinating, don’t you think?” she asked with such quiet sincerity that Nagihiko started to feel a little curious himself.

“What is it about the human world that you find so interesting?” Whenever he thought about the human world, it was stacks and stacks of foreign books that flooded his mind. He was required to memorize so many of them. He didn’t have a positive impression of the world those books came from.

“There is so much in the human world that is not here in Yamauchi,” the rakujō said. “But for me personally, the most interesting thing is that the human world gives us an external point of view. We can see how the human world deals with problems and apply those methods to the current problems we face.”

“What kinds of problems?” Nagihiko asked.

The rakujō opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She stared pointedly at Yoshimichi, who stood at Nagihiko’s side.

“Do not concern yourself with politeness,” Nagihiko urged. “I ask you to speak your mind plainly without consideration for my sensibilities.” He didn’t even look Yoshimichi’s way to gauge his reaction.

“Very well, Your Imperial Majesty. I shall take you at your word. Pardon my asking, Your Imperial Majesty, but have you ever managed rice fields?”

What a perplexing question. Nagihiko was about to ask what she meant when she asked another question that was even more outlandish than the last.

“Have you ever grown gourds?”

“I have not.”

“That is unfortunate,” Sumio said. She didn’t sound particularly regretful. “If you try to grow them, you will perhaps understand. It seems like a simple task, but it is quite difficult. Insects eat them, or they are blighted by frost or illness. Their growth is affected by the weather. Even if they grow perfectly, a bird might snatch them up and eat them before they are harvested. A successful crop one year in no way guarantees a successful crop the next. Even if you keep growing conditions the same from year to year, factors beyond your control will always change. Many times, the hardworking gourd farmer ends up with little or nothing for their efforts.

“There’s another wrinkle if you should delegate the task of gourd growing to others. Tenant farmers slack off, get injured, and fall ill. They might quarrel with one another over a boundary between furrows or who owns the production of a single seedling. The ability of the person who runs the field is tested by such interpersonal conflicts. A successful farmer knows how to negotiate and meditate in disputes.

“In sum, the person who runs the field must constantly deal with both problems involving nature and problems involving people.

“Now, then. Let’s say that rice cakes made from a harvest that has overcome such problems and hardships have been made. However, there are only enough rice cakes to feed the workers so that they are eighty percent full, and it isn’t possible to make everyone completely satisfied. In such a situation, what would Your Imperial Majesty do?”

Nagihiko wasn’t certain what she expected to hear. He decided to answer honestly. “Even if everyone cannot be entirely satisfied, no one will starve if they are eighty percent full. Why not distribute the rice cakes equally to everyone?”

Sumio grinned. Her smile was not at all the same as the one she’d given to Nagihiko during the Boys’ Day Festival. There was a hint of malice in it, and more than a hint of self-satisfaction. He had told her what she’d expected to hear.

When Sumio spoke again, she was no longer smiling, and her tone was calm and even. “I might do the same,” she said, “but consider the question further, if you don’t mind, Your Imperial Majesty. Those who are left at eighty percent full may become angry with the one who made the decision, saying, ‘We worked so hard and yet we are not even allowed to eat our fill!’ In the future, the running of the fields may no longer go well. Other people may attempt to wrest the management of the field from you by force.”

Nagihiko swallowed. “And what could be done to avoid that?” he asked. “Should I give them my share?”

“But then you would starve, Your Imperial Majesty,” Sumio chided him gently. “What if you reduced the number of tenant farmers by one, and that made it so that everyone could eat their fill. Would you send the tenant farmer away?”

Nagihiko shook his head. “I would rather give up my portion, if it came to that. I would beg for understanding. Surely it is better for no man to starve than for all men to be full.”

“You are not required to starve,” Sumio said. The corners of her lips twitched upward. “There are other options. You could kill the most useless tenant farmer. That would satisfy the others.”

“What are you saying?! Of course I could not.” Nagihiko was stunned. “Such barbaric foolishness cannot be permitted.”

“Permission doesn’t factor into it. You are the emperor. In this analogy, you manage the farm. The decision is yours.”

“Such a decision might seem expedient on the surface, but it is a bad move. To kill a loyal tenant farmer for having a bad year shows disloyalty on my part. The other tenant farmers would be terrified of me. Besides, reducing the manpower working in the fields means that next year’s harvest will be less, and even more people will starve,” Nagihiko said. He was quietly furious.

Sumio remained calm. “The Yellow Raven is killing tenant farmers, and his field is Yamauchi.”

A painful silence blanketed the room.

Nagihiko was wide-eyed. Yoshimichi appeared equally stunned.

Sumio stood there, patient and peaceful, like she hadn’t just said something shocking and possibly treasonous.

Nagihiko’s breath sounded loud in his ears. “That analogy… it is rather malicious.”

The Yellow Raven was strict and frightening, but all of his policies were for the sake of Yamauchi’s future. He didn’t promote his own family’s interests, as a more corrupt official would have done. He was frugal and practical and never flaunted his power before others. He advanced his own interests so that Yamauchi would know peace, not because he wanted more control. No one could doubt that, could they?

“The Yellow Raven would never so something so foolish and short-sighted.”

“But he already has done these things; that is what I am saying, Your Imperial Majesty. Imagine that the field we have been speaking of is Yamauchi, then expand the scale.”

Nagihiko entertained that thought. His blood went cold. He knew exactly what Sumio was implying.

Kill the most useless tenant farmer.

Expanding the scale of that statement meant that more than one person was dead. Many people were. How many? Hundreds? Thousands?

“Your Imperial Majesty, perhaps it would be best to adjourn for today?” Yoshimichi asked. His face was pale.

Nagihiko raised a hand to silence him.

Sumio was looking at Nagihiko, her expression curious. Her eyes had sharpened somehow, becoming threatening.

Nagihiko didn’t know how to interpret her challenging gaze, but he knew that it would be a mistake to flee from her. He was the emperor. He solved problems; he didn’t run from them.

“I would prefer to hear a more concrete example of what you are implying,” Nagihiko said.

“Certainly, Your Imperial Majesty. Consider the Valley’s restructuring. You are aware of that project, I trust?”

Nagihiko had some awareness of the Valley, of course, but that project had taken place five years ago. He’d been a child then. He hadn’t made any of the decisions regarding the invasion and rebuilding of the Valley. The place was a lawless slum. Criminals formed violent gangs. Women sold their bodies for next to nothing. Gambling was rampant and unregulated.

The Valley had been a blight on Yamauchi for a long time before the Yellow Raven had decided to intervene. Everyone knew that the Valley’s existence was a problem, but for many years, the Imperial Court had ignored it—until they couldn’t anymore.

The Yellow Raven had no tolerance for the Valley’s lawlessness. He reformed it with the same practical ruthlessness that he applied to almost everything. The criminals were arrested. The women were rescued. Nagihiko had heard that the Valley was now an orphanage that fed and looked after children.

“And what is the problem with that project, in your opinion?” Nagihiko asked. He couldn’t understand why anyone would oppose the Yellow Raven’s reforms in the Valley.

Sumio smiled bitterly, close-mouthed. “The Valley had its own circumstances. Even if it was as lawless as the rumors suggest, it was a place of safety for many. People without a place in the city lived there, having committed no crime but offending a noble. Some were not criminals at all, but lost their place in the world due to illness or injury. Others fell into the Valley because they were poor, not because they harmed others. Many women were sold by their parents and became courtesans against their will. The Valley’s people cannot be condemned all in the same breath. There were too many innocents mixed in with the criminals for that. The Valley was a diverse mixture of people who were too weak or too inconvenient for the Imperial Court to protect and support.

“The Yellow Raven did not take the unique circumstances of the Valley’s people into consideration,” Sumio continued. “He issued an order telling them all to leave the Valley. Those who resisted were poisoned or turned into horses. Their voices were suppressed. No one ever heard their complaints because the Yellow Raven killed or enslaved them.

“I shall answer the question I posed to Your Imperial Majesty earlier,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “You said that if you killed tenant farmers, the others would grow fearful and the labor force would decrease, causing more problems the following year. However, killing the poor, who have always been despised, is not considered a problem by the rich and powerful. That is why the Valley was the way it was. The poor and despised once fled there when there was nowhere else for them to go. Without that refuge, they die or live as slaves. Slavery solves the labor problem created by killing tenant farmers, don’t you see? It’s a very neat solution.”

Nagihiko’s fingers clenched into fists. His hands were sweating. No, he thought. That is a terrible solution.

“What nonsense,” Yoshimichi said. “You are glib, woman. You say the Yellow Raven issued one declaration and accomplished all this. That is not what happened. The people of the Valley were given many options. He offered to hire them as workers and give them a place in the city. The women he rescued now have respectable work in medicinal herb gardens. Many men accepted his offer of employment and work in the fields and on water management projects. The only ones who scorned the Yellow Raven’s generous offer were criminals. They feared being exposed for what they were, and they suffered the consequences of their actions.”

Sumio laughed. “What keen insight you possess, Lord Yoshimichi. You have cut to the very heart of the problem. All those who refused the Yellow Raven’s offer were branded criminals by decree. In your mind, this justifies what was done to them after. Continuing our analogy, it would be like a field manager deciding that any worker who disobeyed him once was a criminal. Once again, it is a very convenient solution to a messy problem.

“Of course, I do not claim that everyone in the Valley was innocent. There were certainly some hardened criminals there. By the same logic, there were certainly some people who were just poor or desperate or alone. Do you think it right to persecute the entire group just because some of them have done wrong? If even one innocent person is enslaved and turned into a horse forever, is that not a crime?

“The problem of the Valley is one of individuation. The people there were lumped together like there was no difference at all between them. They were all condemned as criminals and were not given the opportunity to defend themselves. This course of action benefited only the nobles, not the common people of Yamauchi.

“And the Valley’s restructuring is just a representative example. Such things are happening all over Yamauchi as we speak.” Sumio never lost her composure, but her tone was scathing.

Nagihiko felt a wave of weariness overcome him. The problems that Sumio was describing were too large for him to solve. “Did you identify the problems you speak of by studying the human world’s language?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

“Indeed,” she said. “In the human world, it is held that those who establish the law and those who govern on the basis of that law must be strictly separated. This is called separation of powers. Without such a separation, those in power impose the laws on those without it, but do not follow the laws themselves. This leads to tyranny. Yamauchi’s current laws are tyrannical. I feel that if something is not done, this system of governance will imperil the rule of Your Imperial Majesty and the Yellow Raven.”

Her smile was as sharp as a honed blade. “Your Imperial Majesty, you eat the finest rice cakes and know nothing but luxury. You are ignorant of the suffering and death of your own people. Those people suffer so that you can enjoy wealth and peace. Now you know that, and with knowledge comes responsibility. I am curious to know what you shall do now that you understand the current state of affairs within Yamauchi.” Her voice echoed through the room like an oracle delivered by a shrine maiden.

“What do you expect me to do?” Nagihiko asked.

Sumio looked at him as she would a troubled child. “The choice is yours, Your Imperial Majesty. I cannot make decisions for you. No one can. If you believe there is a problem, I think you should try to solve it as you see fit.”

Nagihiko groaned. “I believe you overestimate me. Even I don’t always know what I am capable of doing.”

The Yellow Raven was capable. And terrifying. He never acted selfishly. He governed Yamauchi to the best of his ability. Nagihiko suspected that the Yellow Raven led better than Nagihiko himself ever could.

“Please do not trouble yourself, Your Imperial Majesty,” Yoshimichi said. He glared at Sumio while stepping between her and Nagihiko. “She speaks against rule by nobles and in favor of rule by commoners. Her perspective has an obvious bias. She is deliberately twisting the Yellow Raven’s policies to show them in the worst possible light as a way to ingratiate herself with you, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Sumio gave Yoshimichi a bright smile. “I have no malicious intent,” she said. “I have no doubt that the Yellow Raven truly desires peace in Yamauchi. A person may criticize a policy without wholly opposing it. I bring up my concerns in the hope that addressing them will make current policies more perfect and just. Doesn’t the Yellow Raven find it tiresome to have everyone agree with him all the time? Isn’t it possible for him to make a mistake? Everyone overlooks things sometimes. Is the Yellow Raven so tyrannical that he would not listen to proposals that are substantially different from his own?”

Yoshimichi said nothing.

Nagihiko let out a tense breath. He felt admiration and exasperation in equal measure. “Your argument has merit,” he said. “Certainly, everyone makes mistakes. The Yellow Raven is not an exception to the rule.”

“I am pleased that you agree, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Where did you form such arguments? Who taught you about governance in the human world?”

“Chihaya, a former Yamauchishu, taught me. He works as a bodyguard in the city now.”

“I would like to meet him.”

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Yoshimichi hissed, startled.

Nagihiko deliberately ignored him.

Sumio’s eyes widened briefly. “I… I am deeply grateful for Your Imperial Majesty’s consideration,” she said, “but Chihaya is not a talkative man. He was one of my teachers. I learned more from others and from traveling through Yamauchi’s provinces. I am not certain that Chihaya would meet Your Imperial Majesty’s expectations.”

“Who were your other teachers?”

“My parents, of course, and a physician who showed me various places in Yamauchi when I was young. Also my father’s friend, who always behaved like a horse while acting as my babysitter.”

No single individual had shaped Sumio’s mind. She was the product of a specific environment that would be difficult if not impossible to replicate.

Before Nagihiko could speak, Yoshimichi interjected again. “If I may, Your Imperial Majesty. To summon so many people to the Imperial Palace at once is unprecedented.”

Yoshimichi’s stiff expression suggested that what concerned him was not the number of people but their unknown backgrounds. If Yoshimichi was concerned about that, it was safe to assume that many of Yamauchi’s nobles felt the same way. If he compelled Yoshimichi to obey him now, there could be trouble later.

Nagihiko considered how to meet Sumio’s teachers without inconveniencing Yamauchi’s nobles. “I understand. I shall be making a visit to the Palace Above the Clouds soon. Would it be possible to summon Chihaya and your other teachers there?”

Sumio gave him a doubtful look, but she nodded. “I have had many teachers, so I do not believe it would be possible to gather them all at once. But I can invite as many as possible.”

“Splendid. Please do that.”

“Your Imperial Majesty!” Yoshimichi’s cheeks were flushed with anger.

Nagihiko didn’t acknowledge him.

Shortly after that, Sumio withdrew from Nagihiko’s presence.

Yoshimichi was quick to voice reproachful complaints. “You cannot act on your own, Your Imperial Majesty, without warning others. If you take that woman at her word, it will cause problems for Yamauchi as a whole. And that story about the Valley was disgustingly vulgar. You do not believe her, do you?”

“Of course not. I wish to know how much of what she said is true and how much is lies. If you believe that there is no problem with the Yellow Raven’s policies, as I do, then this will be an interesting thought exercise and nothing more. We should be open-minded when it comes to criticism and improving policies and laws, don’t you think?”

Yoshimichi’s expression was distinctly grim. The Yellow Raven had selected him to be one of Nagihiko’s attendants. Nagihiko was sure that Yoshimichi would report this conversation to the Yellow Raven in great detail.

Sumio said she wanted to support the Yellow Raven, but everything she’d said was critical of his current policies and actions. Nagihiko couldn’t predict how the Yellow Raven would react to Sumio’s thinly veiled accusations.

Nagihiko waited impatiently for a response from the Yellow Raven, but none came. The Yellow Raven said nothing about Sumio to anyone. It was like Nagihiko’s conversation with her had never happened.

***

The visit to the Palace Above the Clouds took place on a clear and pleasant day.

Nagihiko visited Ukogi first. She was now completely bedridden. After the short visit, Nagihiko went to visit Sumio’s teachers, who were present in a large lecture hall within the Palace Above the Clouds.

The first people to approach Nagihiko were a middle-aged man and woman. They were flanked by guards and guided forward with great ceremony.

The woman had elegantly styled red-black hair that burnished in sunshine. The man had a prosthetic arm and leg.

“These are my parents,” Sumio said.

Nagihiko was quite surprised. “Are you Masuho no Susuki of the Saike family?” he asked the woman.

She smiled brightly and bowed. “I am indeed. To think that His Imperial Majesty would know my name. I am greatly honored.”

Nagihiko hadn’t recognized her on sight. Masuho no Susuki was similar in age to his mother, but she looked much older. He didn’t find the wrinkles around her eyes or the white streaks in her hair unsightly, though. There was something very vital and alive about her that had nothing to do with her age. Her vivid eyes resembled her daughter’s.

“I have heard that you provide relief for the poor with your own hands, Duchess Masuho no Susuki. Such philanthropy is to be commended.”

“I do what I can,” Masuho no Susuki said. “Your kind words are more than I deserve.”

The man with a prosthetic arm and leg kneeled beside Masuho no Susuki. He had terrible burn scars on his face and hands. Based on his appearance, Nagihiko thought he was a pauper being cared for at the temple. But when he looked more closely, the man’s bearing was upright and calm. He was accustomed to being in the presence of nobility.

“And your companion would be Sumio, formerly of the Yamauchishu?” Nagihiko asked.

“Yes,” the man said.

Nagihiko swallowed uncomfortably. He knew little about his half-brother Nazukihiko, who’d been assassinated. People took pains not to mention him around Nagihiko. He knew that Sumio had once been Nazukihiko’s personal guard. It was likely that Sumio had a negative opinion of Nagihiko.

Politeness demanded that Nagihiko thank Sumio for his service in his capacity as emperor. “I have heard that you sustained your grave wounds while guarding my brother, Nazukihiko. I am grateful for your loyalty to the Souke family.”

“You honor me.” Sumio bowed his head in a completely natural manner. If he harbored any coldness or animosity toward Nagihiko, Nagihiko couldn’t see it. His practiced movements reminded Nagihiko of how Sumio’s daughter moved in the Imperial Court.

“Forgive me,” Nagihiko said. He’d made an error. “Your loyalty was not to Souke, but to my brother. I apologize for conflating the two.”

Sumio raised his head and blinked. Their eyes met, and for a moment, his expression softened.

“It is not something for Your Imperial Majesty to apologize for. I am grateful for your concern.”

Whatever Sumio might feel privately, he was putting on a show of loyalty. Nagihiko allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

There was no time to linger. Nagihiko expressed his thanks for their coming and told them why he’d summoned them here.

“I was astonished by your daughter’s way of thinking when I conversed with her a few days ago. I am curious about the education of such an extraordinary young lady.”

Sumio’s rakujō daughter smiled and said, “How very kind of you to say.”

Her parents were stunned silent. They looked like their mouths had been stuffed full of lumps of salt.

“Forgive me for saying this, especially after you went to the trouble of summoning us,” Sumio said. “To our shame, we have done nothing special regarding her education at all.”

Nagihiko blinked.

Sumio’s expression was pained, like he was confessing past sins. “The truth is, when our daughter was young, she was frail. We entrusted her to a physician living in the countryside. The plan was for her to return as soon as her health recovered, but… well… before that happened, she went missing.”

Nagihiko heard all this clearly enough, but he felt like he wasn’t understanding any of it.

Sumio the rakujō laughed. “You see, it was like this: I started off recuperating in a temple, but when I was better, I started traveling with the physician all over Yamauchi. It was so much fun!”

Masuho no Susuki raised a hand to smooth the wrinkles on her forehead. “For us, it was anything but fun. At first, we thought she had been kidnapped, and we were beside ourselves with worry.”

Sumio nodded deeply. “She wrote that she was going around visiting famous physicians, but really, she was just sightseeing. Just when we were about to arrange a search using the Saike family’s resources, she returned, but she vanished again soon after. We only knew she was alive because she sent us letters occasionally. She never listened to us. From the day she was born until today, we have done nothing but fret over her.”

“I did cause my parents a lot of worry,” Sumio the rakujō said cheerfully, “but thanks to all that, I’m completely healthy now.”

Watching her leisurely smile set alongside her utterly exhausted parents, Nagihiko felt a flicker of anxiety. Perhaps this rakujō was a weirder person than he thought.

Completely unaware of his feelings, Sumio the rakujō continued, “Certainly, compared with my younger brothers and sisters, I have spent less time with my parents. But I would not be who I am now without them. They worried about me terribly, yet in the end they let me do as I wished, and they have always supported me.”

That was certainly true. Most nobles wouldn’t allow their daughters to become rakujō no matter how much they wanted to become one.

When Nagihiko asked what Sumio and Masuho no Susuki thought about their daughter’s new occupation, Masuho no Susuki answered with a slight smile. “I am in no position to speak against living as one wishes, since I have lived that way myself. My own parents valued my happiness over appearances and propriety. If I could not do the same for my own children, I would be a hypocrite and a bad parent.”

She said all this smoothly with no signs of distress. Nagihiko found that surprising. Duchess Masuho no Susuki of Saike was one of the highest-ranked noble ladies in all of Yamauchi. Her political value was immeasurable. It must have taken a great deal of soul searching and inner conflict for her to accept that her happiness was more important than noble trappings and customs.

“We believe all four of our children are blessings from heaven,” Sumio added. “It is the role of parents to guide their children so that they can fly free on their own one day. My wife and I agreed that we would never stand in the way of our children’s dreams and goals. I do not know if we have truly managed that, but we have certainly tried our best.”

Sumio smiled with a faint air of pride. “Raising independent children has its advantages. We live as we please now, and our children do as well.”

Strange parents raise strange children, Nagihiko thought.

Masuho no Susuki and Sumio were unlike any noble parents that Nagihiko knew of. He had few memories of his own father. If his father were alive and present, what would he say?

While Nagihiko sank deeply into his own thoughts, Sumio the rakujō said, “I had hoped to introduce you to the doctor who traveled around with me and my father’s friend who behaved like a horse, but I haven’t been able to locate them.”

Nagihiko’s eyes widened. “Are they traveling?”

“The doctor is, almost certainly. He’s a very free-spirited person.”

Despite his wandering nature, this doctor had given Sumio the rakujō a thorough noble education.

“He told me repeatedly that if I ever intended to be a noble, I must be unimpeachable in my conduct. A failure in my education would have left gaps for the unscrupulous to exploit. He was an excellent teacher. I passed the imperial civil service examination easily thanks to his efforts.” She puffed out her chest with pride.

Sumio’s parents looked like they would rather distance themselves from her, but they remained still.

Nagihiko didn’t know what this doctor had taught to Sumio, but it was obvious to him that the level of knowledge required to pass the civil service examination was excessive for the education of a noble child.

“Traveling is wonderful. If Your Imperial Majesty wishes to know about commoners and what they think day to day, then you should travel someday as well.”

“That is impossible,” Nagihiko replied, reflexive and immediate.

Sumio was briefly silent. Then she said, “Your Imperial Majesty’s older brother was known to travel.”

“You must be joking.” He burst out laughing, but then he noticed Sumio looking at him with eyes full of pity. His laughter died in his throat. “Surely not. That cannot be true.”

“I met Emperor Nazukihiko at one of the places he traveled to. Perhaps it’s not my place to say more, but I know what I saw.”

Nagihiko considered this. Even if she was lying, it would not be a particularly malicious lie. He had heard plenty of gossip about Nazukihiko over the years. Some said he’d neglected his duties as a noble and behaved in ways that were unbecoming of an emperor. Him spending time with commoners would fit within the bounds of such rumors.

But Nagihiko had never heard any rumors of Emperor Nazukihiko’s travels. None at all. He had no idea if Sumio was telling the truth or not.

Sumio the father grimaced as if he’d remembered something particularly unpleasant. “About that… when I first met him, His Imperial Majesty was about to try eating insect larvae raw.”

Nagihiko didn’t know what insect larvae was or what it looked like. “Are those… something that can safely be eaten raw?” he asked.

“Please do not try it, Your Imperial Majesty. They will upset your stomach!” Sumio said with sudden vehemence.

Nagihiko was a little flustered. He didn’t even know what insect larvae was! He’d certainly never desired to eat it before.

Sumio sobered rapidly. “Forgive my outburst, Your Imperial Majesty. I meant no disrespect. That question is something Your Imperial Majesty’s older brother would have asked, and I forgot myself.”

Nagihiko smiled faintly. “I am often told I resemble Prince Natsuka of Clear Mirror Temple.”

“Prince Natsuka would never—that is to say, Emperor Nazukihiko would have asked that question, Your Imperial Majesty. Not Prince Natsuka.”

Nagihiko looked at him. His expression was sober and serious. Masuho no Susuki’s mein matched his. She remained at his side and didn’t budge an inch.

“That is the first time anyone has said such a thing,” Nagihiko said. “No one compares me to Emperor Nazukihiko.” He didn’t know what else to say.

Sumio’s expression became pained. “You look a good deal like Prince Natsuka,” he said. “But your inner character resembles Emperor Nazukihiko’s, I think. Though I could be wrong. We have scarcely exchanged words, Your Imperial Majesty. I apologize if the comparison offends you.”

Nagihiko waved this off. “I am not offended. But my brother would not be pleased to hear that, I think.”

“That is not so,” Masuho no Susuki said quietly. “Emperor Nazukihiko would welcome the comparison, I think. He was not hateful or judgmental.”

The silence that fell over the room then was profound. Nagihiko sensed tension in the air, but it didn’t make him uncomfortable. He felt like he was privileged to witness this moment of mourning for a dead brother that he’d never known.

“What was my brother like?” Nagihiko asked.

He had heard rumors. Plenty of the people around him enjoyed speaking ill of his predecessor while lamenting the fact that he’d been slain. But Nagihiko had no impression of the man himself.

Sumio the father sighed and then answered, “He was… a little unconventional, but he was also very kind. Few of us understood what he was thinking. I believe his perspective of the world was so different that others couldn’t understand it.” He shook his head. “I shall speak frankly, though I sense that I may be misunderstood. I believe that I was his friend, even though he was an emperor and I was born a commoner. Even so, we didn’t speak of everything. I’m sure I didn’t know all his secrets. His position was isolating in some ways, as you can imagine, Your Imperial Majesty. There must have been many things that he never dared to put into words. I only came to that realization after he passed away. I regret that I didn’t notice his reticence earlier.”

Masuho no Susuki placed her hand gently on her husband’s slumped back. “He is too hard on himself,” she chided. “Emperor Nazukihiko felt honor-bound to protect us all. That is why he would not tell us everything.”

Sumio gave his wife a faint smile, then turned to look at Nagihiko again. “It is a difficult thing, to be the emperor—I am sure Your Imperial Majesty has many cares,” he said. “It is not my place to say such things. Forgive my presumption for speaking as your brother’s friend, but I have been praying, and will continue to pray, for your happiness, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Sumio and Masuho no Susuki bowed deeply.

Nagihiko returned the bow and said nothing.

***

The man who entered next was a tall, gaunt man with sharp eyes. Nagihiko looked him up and down, thinking that he looked rather rough for a retired Yamauchishu. This man was Chihaya, one of Sumio the rakujō’s teachers. He had taught Sumio about the human world.

Nagihiko had commanded Yoshimichi to investigate Chihaya’s background in advance, so he already knew that Chihaya had once served Emperor Nazukihiko. Unlike Sumio, the man he’d just spoken to, Chihaya hadn’t retired from service; he’d resigned in disgrace and turned in his sword.

Chihaya was an oddity to Nazukihiko. Why would a Yamauchishu privileged enough to study abroad in the human world voluntarily resign? Yoshimichi had told him that Chihaya now lived in obscurity as a bodyguard. He had chosen this path for himself because he’d been in charge of Emperor Nazukihiko’s security on the night of his assassination.

After that came to light, Yoshimichi insisted that an audience with Chihaya should be prohibited. Nagihiko argued with him until he relented. Nagihiko’s security for the meeting was enhanced, but it would certainly happen.

When Chihaya entered, Nagihiko was flanked by Yamauchishu on both sides. Chihaya was thoroughly searched for weapons before he was allowed to approach.

Nagihiko worried that Chihaya’s sullen expression meant that he was offended by the extra security, but Sumio appeared unconcerned. 

“Lord Chihaya is always like this,” she said. She had warned him that Chihaya was not a talkative man.

Nagihiko feared that she’d understated the case. Chihaya was not just taciturn, but entirely unsociable.

“I heard from Sumio about the knowledge you gained in the human world,” Nagihiko said. “What kinds of things did you learn?”

“Nothing significant enough to report.”

“That can’t be true. What Sumio told me was very interesting.”

“Then she didn’t learn it from me. Perhaps you found her interpretation interesting.”

Nagihiko tried to be considerate and ask open-ended questions, but Chihaya refused to be drawn out. Sumio took a seat nearby and asked questions occasionally, but Chihaya showed no enthusiasm to speak to her, or to anyone. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

Discouraged but determined, Nagihiko decided to ask Chihaya about the current state of Yamauchi directly. That issue was what had gotten him so interested in Sumio’s education, after all.

Chihaya’s attitude changed at once. “Yamauchi is hell for the poor,” he said, blunt as a cudgel.

Nagihiko sucked in a breath. “Hell? Is it really so terrible?”

“I was born a commoner in a village in Nanke Territory,” Chihaya said. “My parents were tenant farmers on a cotton farm. When I was young, my mother fell ill, and I stayed home to care for her. Because of that, I couldn’t work, and my father was charged with the crime of desertion. His third leg was cut off. My mother died soon after. I don’t know where my father is.”

Nagihiko listened to this brusque account of Chihaya’s early life, attentive and still.

“When my younger sister was eight, the eldest son of the family that owned the cotton field tried to rape her. We escaped and were taken in by a noble family. But I had to work for that privilege. I was little better than that family’s slave.” His smile was like everything else about him: sharp and bitter.

“I injured the boy who attacked my sister. In any other circumstance, I would have been killed for my insolence. I accepted servitude so that I would live.”

Nagihiko frowned. The law that would allow such things to happen blatantly favored nobles. He remembered what Sumio had said to him about separation of powers and corruption, but he said nothing.

Chihaya remained silent for a short while, peering into Nagihiko’s face as if he were searching for the answer to a riddle. Then he said, “My sister is blind. The noble family that took us in sent her to a brothel in the Valley.”

Nagihiko gasped. “The Valley?” What had happened to the women in the Valley after everyone was relocated? He couldn’t remember. “Where is your sister now?”

“Fortunately, she married well and now lives outside the Valley.”

Nagihiko sighed in relief.

Chihaya watched his reaction, his eyes narrowed. “My sister didn’t wish to leave the Valley,” he said coldly. “We were eventually freed from the contract that bound us to serve the noble family. When she was free, she chose to return to the Valley of her own free will.”

Nagihiko stared blankly. “Why? I heard the Valley was a vile place that preyed upon weak women.”

“There were people there who treated her like any other person even though she could not see. She trained as a musician there.” He paused. “The Valley was certainly vile, but I don’t believe that was because of the people who lived there. The nobles made it vile.” His gaze fixed on Nagihiko. “What do you know of the Valley?”

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Yoshimichi said.

That was a warning. Nagihiko ignored it. “I confess that I do not know the details of how the Valley was restructured,” he said. “But I want to know.”

“Then I shall tell you.” Chihaya nodded. “Many people died during the restructuring, as you call it. These people were not treated fairly. Those who died were not all criminals. Lord Sessai targeted innocent people who might have become leaders in the Valley under other circumstances. He sent the Aerial Army of Heaven into the Valley to cut people down. Those who barricaded themselves indoors or underground were poisoned. Men who managed to survive all this upheaval had their third legs cut off and were turned into horses permanently. They now work as Lord Sessai’s labor force, bearing the burdens that used to be carried by the warriors of the Hokke family. Do you understand why this happened?” Chihaya asked.

Nagihiko shook his head.

Chihaya smiled grimly. “Lord Sessai wanted to dispose of people who might defy him and obtain a labor force that could not voice their discontent. The restructuring of the Valley was a completely selfish project.”

“Enough,” Yoshimichi said.

The Yamauchishu flanking Nagihiko fanned out and surrounded him, blocking Chihaya from view.

“Let him speak,” Nagihiko commanded.

Neither Yoshimichi nor the Yamauchishu heeded Nagihiko’s order.

“Your Imperial Majesty, this ruffian has slandered the Yellow Raven without evidence. He gave up his sword, disgraced, and still dares to spit this venom into your ears. It is obvious that he carries a petty grudge against Lord Sessai.” He glared at Chihaya.

Chihaya stood still, unperturbed. He was looking at Nagihiko. “I have told you that Yamauchi is hell for the poor. This is so because nobles allow the poor to live or die on sufferance. The lives of commoners are not their own. Yamauchi is marching toward its own ruin. I don’t expect this state of affairs to last for long.”

“Leave,” Yoshimichi said.

Chihaya stood up straighter and then shrugged. He departed at once. Before the door closed behind him, he said, “Be careful, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Before Nagihiko could ask him to clarify his statement, Chihaya was gone.

***

Nagihiko worried that Chihaya might be punished for speaking his mind in front of him. When he asked Yoshimichi where Chihaya was now, Yoshimichi wouldn’t tell him.

He was still brooding over this when Yoshimichi led him outside to a flying carriage that was waiting for him. Sumio and her parents saw him off with tense expressions.

Nagihiko was walking to the carriage when someone called out behind him, “Please wait!”

“Who goes there?” one of the Yamauchishu called out.

As Nagihiko turned around to investigate the disturbance, Yamauchishu surrounded him on all sides.

“Seize him,” Yoshimichi commanded.

There were sounds of a scuffle. Nagihiko stood frozen, uncomprehending.

Then Sumio the rakujō cried out, “Matsutaka! Is that you?”

There was a whispered exchange that Nagihiko couldn’t quite make out.

“My apologies. I summoned this man here,” Sumio said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was not on the schedule!” Yoshimichi said with a dismissive huff.

“I’m sorry,” Sumio said meekly. “He lives in the provinces, so I wasn’t sure he would be able to come. I sent him a letter, but I received no reply. I didn’t think he would be here today.”

As Sumio explained this to Yoshimichi, Nagihiko peeked out from behind the Yamauchishu around him. He saw a man pinned to the ground a few dozen feet in front of him. He wasn’t resisting, and he didn’t appear to be armed.

The man was young—surely not older than thirty. He was clad only in a feather robe. He was deeply tanned and his lower arms were corded with muscle. His eyes were steady and calm.

“We cannot allow such arbitrary behavior. No one may appear before His Imperial Majesty without prior notice,” Yoshimichi snapped. “His Imperial Majesty is returning to the palace now. There is no time to speak with this person now.”

“As you say. I am very sorry.” Sumio apologized to the fuming Yoshimichi with perfect humility.

Matsutaka bowed deeply as well. He glanced Nagihiko’s way, his face contrite. “In my impatience, I behaved as a suspicious person would. I sincerely apologize. I shall withdraw immediately. I beg your pardon, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Shameless,” Yoshimichi said. He was trembling with anger.

Nagihiko felt pity for the poor man, who certainly wasn’t a threat. “I am sorry that you came all this way at my request,” he said. “It is unfortunate that we could not speak.”

Matsutaka smiled. “Beholding your countenance is honor enough for me, Your Imperial Majesty. If you should ever wish to listen to a commoner describing life in the provinces, please do not hesitate to call on me.”

Matsutaka prostrated himself upon the ground. Sumio watched him, astonished, and said no more.

***

Nagihiko sighed in the privacy of his flying carriage. He was on his way back to the Imperial Palace. He had arranged the meeting in the Palace Above the Clouds to understand Sumio’s perspective better. Everything he’d heard was new to him. He understood the true state of things in the Valley thanks to Chihaya’s story. He would have liked to hear Matsutaka speak as well.

He could not be blamed for problems that he was ignorant of, but now he was no longer ignorant. What should Nagihiko do now?

“I do what I can.” Masuho no Susuki had said that about her charitable work. It seemed sensible to Nagihiko to apply this statement to himself. Now that he knew more, he should do whatever he could to help the people of Yamauchi.

The flying carriage landed in the carriage yard reserved for Nagihiko’s personal use. Nagihiko barely noticed. He was deep in thought.

A step stool and new footwear were prepared for Nagihiko. The carriage door opened. Nagihiko allowed himself to be fussed over and then descended. Lord Haruma was waiting for him.

Haruma bowed. “Did you enjoy your visit to the Palace Above the Clouds, Your Imperial Majesty? he asked.

Haruma was the Yellow Raven’s right-hand man and spoke with his voice. He stood in the carriage yard, smiling and alone.

“Is there a problem?” Nagihiko asked. He was thinking about promoting Sumio. It was a waste of her talents for her to perform odd jobs in the Imperial Palace. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about this yet, however. Did Haruma already know? Did he disapprove? Nagihiko’s heart pounded.

“Of course not, Your Imperial Majesty.” His smile was fixed in place. “It is wonderful for you to take such a sincere interest in the welfare of the common people. However, I would appreciate it if you informed me of such meetings in advance in the future.”

Nagihiko kept his face blank. He’d heard more criticism of the Yellow Raven today than he ever had in his life before. No doubt Haruma had already received a report about what Nagihiko had heard. Nagihiko understood that this was a warning. The Yellow Raven had chosen to overlook Nagihiko’s actions this time, but be might not be so magnanimous next time.

“I understand. If there is a next time, I will contact you beforehand.”

“Excellent! I apologize if my presence here surprised you, Your Imperial Majesty. You must be exhausted. Please return to your chambers.”

Nagihiko felt conflicted as he fell into step behind Haruma, who led the way back to his rooms. He remembered that Haruma had once been a Yamauchishu.

As they walked, he asked, “Did you ever exchange words with my brother Nazukihiko?”

Haruma never lost his slight smile, but it nearly slipped off his face. He said nothing at first, and Nagihiko thought that he might not answer at all.

“Yes.” Haruma’s voice was as bland as his customary smile. “When I was a Yamauchishu, I served Emperor Nazukihiko.”

Nagihiko nodded to himself. “What was he like?”

“I couldn’t say,” Haruma replied.

“Do you have such improper thoughts about him that you cannot express them to me?”

Haruma hesitated only slightly before answering. “No, Your Imperial Majesty. Your brother was a wise and compassionate man. However, his true thoughts were often difficult to understand. I don’t know what was in his heart, so I cannot tell you what he was like.”

Nagihiko digested Haruma’s words. Sumio’s father had said something similar.

“I heard my brother studied abroad in the human world. Did you hear him say anything about that?

Haruma blinked slowly. “The human world?” He stared into space for a few moments, looking some combination of confused and terrified.

With that expression on his face, Nagihiko thought that he appeared unusually young.

“No, Your Imperial Majesty,” Haruma said. “I don’t believe that Emperor Nazukihiko and I ever discussed the human world.”

***

The Night Palace was where the Golden Raven slept each evening. It was a sealed room with plastered walls. The walls were partly concealed by splendid golden folding screens. Beyond the decorations and the walls was nothing but bare mountain gutrock. The Night Palace was isolated from the rest of the Imperial Palace and was perhaps the safest place for the emperor to be. It was also a good place for Nagihiko to hold secret meetings or to be alone with his own thoughts.

Nagihiko sat alone cross-legged atop layers of fine silk bedding laid over brocade-edged rice mat flooring. Hanging lanterns illuminated the grand space. Nagihiko leaned over an explanatory document that Yoshimichi had sent to him and read.

After meeting with Sumio’s relatives at the Palace Above the Clouds, Nagihiko had given Yoshimichi orders.

What had become of the cotton fields that had been Chihaya’s birthplace? How was the Valley’s restructuring accomplished? What had happened to the people who had once lived in the Valley?

Nagihiko had instructed Yoshimichi to investigate records concerning these matters as quickly as possible. He had expected this request to take quite a bit of time to complete, but just two days later, Yoshimichi had sent him the comprehensive report he was reading.

The cotton fields were still owned by the same family that had brutalized Chihaya and his sister. There had been problems with the field’s management over the years. At the time of the incident with Chihaya’s sister, the Minami Tachibana family had issued warnings for correcting several issues that they’d observed. After Nazukihiko’s rule began, the cotton fields were temporarily confiscated and their management was reviewed. After Nazukihiko’s death, the family of the former owners petitioned for a new investigation, and the cotton fields were returned to them.

Nagihiko had wondered how such egregious abuses against tenant farmers had been allowed, but the records stated that Chihaya had been the one at fault. Chihaya had allegedly inflicted a severe injury on a member of the family that owned the cotton fields, and in order to cover it up, he had fabricated the assault on his younger sister. The current view in the Imperial Court was that Nazukihiko had believed only Chihaya’s account. Emperor Nazukihiko had been accused of unfair bias, and his punishment of the family that had harmed Chihaya and his sister was undone.

As for the Valley’s restructuring: first, notices were issued to the Valley’s residents regarding new employment. Second, illegal gambling dens and brothels were advised to vacate. Third, warnings were issued that if people did not comply with the previous notices, investigations into their status would be conducted, forcibly if that proved necessary. When people still didn’t comply, the Aerial Army of Heaven was dispatched to the Valley. The records recorded deaths, but they claimed that the only people who had died were those who refused the Yellow Raven’s orders and took up arms against the Aerial Army of Heaven. No aberrations against policy or illegal executions were recorded.

Men whose third legs had been cut off now worked as horses on public works to control flooding and clean up after storms and other disasters. Former courtesans now lived in women’s workshops. Death records were carefully kept and neatly maintained, and the living were given equal consideration. Every worker from the Valley was accounted for in the official record, including their workplace conditions and job role. Nagihiko read that they were treated with extraordinary care. The women’s workshops had on-site medical care that was free to access. There were interviews with several of these women; they all agreed that their lives were much better now than they had been in the Valley.

Yoshimichi had read this report aloud earlier in the day, but there was so much in it that Nagihiko hadn’t quite digested it all. He had brought the written report to the Night Palace in secret so that he could peruse it at his leisure.

After Yoshimichi had finished reading the report, he had said, “This is why I told you that their words should not be taken at face value, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Nagihiko had nodded. “Yes, that is true.” He’d been thinking something entirely different.

“Your Imperial Majesty, are you still awake?”

Nagihiko jumped.

Yoshimichi had entered the Night Palace. He had called Nagihiko’s name, but had received no reply. He noticed the report on Nagihiko’s bed and pursed his lips.

“Is there an issue with the report, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“No. There is no flaw. I felt like reading it over again, that’s all.”

“I see.” Yoshimichi stared fixedly at Nagihiko’s face. “Staying up this late is bad for your health, Your Imperial Majesty. I will gather the report and place it in your office. Please rest now. Do not trouble yourself about anything.”

Nagihiko handed over the report without resistance and then lay down on his bed. When he looked up, the white plaster of the ceiling shone faintly in the light of the hanging lanterns burning in the four corners of the room.

The laws of Yamauchi benefited those in power. On the day he’d summoned her, Sumio had told him as much. If he told her that nothing illegal had happened that he could determine, that would not change anything about the problems she’d pointed out.

As he’d reviewed the report, there was a niggling sensation at the back of his mind that it was not honest. It was hiding what had really happened and presenting events in the best possible light.

Nagihiko didn’t know who’d authored that report, but he’d met Chihaya face-to-face. Perhaps he shouldn’t take Chihaya at his word, but the report had corroborated several pieces of his story. He couldn’t simply leave matters as they were. Now that he was no longer ignorant, he had to act.

Before he slept, Nagihiko decided to send an imperial missive to Sumio.

Translator's Note

A dragon flute is a medium-pitched bamboo transverse flute with seven holes.

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