Yatagarasu Series
Volume 10:
The Raven's Autumn Full Moon
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 5: Sessai
It was the day of the Star Festival.
The four duchesses had each prepared two splendid kimonos in honor of the occasion: one to wear themselves, and one to present to the emperor. Katsura no Hana had sewn both of these garments with her own hands. The kimono she prepared for the emperor was made of red sappan wood silk embroidered with gold thread. She traced the sun design with her fingertips and sighed. Her own kimono was made of the same fabric, but she’d embroidered it with silver thread. The design on her kimono was of the full moon partially obscured by clouds.
Sewing such garments was no easy task. She knew that the other duchesses didn’t bother to create the kimonos they wore and presented themselves. Their attendants would do the sewing, and they would put in a stitch or two so that they could say they’d participated in creating the kimonos without lying.
Katsura no Hana had heard that Masuho no Susuki had sewn the kimonos for the Star Festival herself, so she had decided to do the same. It would have felt wrong to cut corners, even though no one expected her to put any work into the festival preparations.
On the day of the Star Festival, Katsura no Hana shut herself inside the Autumn Hall until the last possible moment. She didn’t want to see any of the other duchesses. Eventually, she was compelled to leave, or she would have been late for the ceremony.
“Duchess, we are ready,” Akane said. “The kimono has been set up on the stage. We must go.”
“Very well,” Katsura no Hana said.
While her attendants helped her don her own ceremonial kimono, they tried to encourage her.
“We are with you,” one said.
“If anything happens, we will fight for you,” another added.
That was reassuring, but Katsura no Hana sincerely hoped that nothing untoward happened.
Each step she took away from the Autumn Hall filled her with dread. She walked to the stage where the kimono she’d made for the emperor lay draped over an ornate clothing stand. Three other lovely kimonos were lined up on both sides of the one she had made.
Yamabuki had presented a kimono made of dark blue silk dyed and embroidered with elaborate patterns that mirrored the stars in the night sky. Hotaru’s kimono was a deep purple; tie-dyed wisteria flowers anchored the design. Tsuru ga Oto’s kimono was the most traditional in style. Its pattern was of repeated motifs on a grid. The style was common and easy to execute.
Katsura no Hana’s place was prepared on a platform called the Seat of the Stars. The other duchesses were already seated when she arrived. She hadn’t seen any of them since the banquet during the Boys’ Day Festival. She bowed slightly to the other duchesses before sitting down.
Looking at all of the kimonos together, she could tell at a glance that hers was the most beautiful and skillful. She hoped that Tsuru ga Oto wouldn’t say anything. She would flatly refuse to remake that kimono. It had taken her ages to complete.
Tsuru ga Oto pursed her lips, but she remained silent.
All the duchesses were quiet. The stage was hushed and still. The tension in the air made Katsura no Hana feel dizzy. She felt like she was about to faint.
Then the arrival of the emperor was announced, and Katsura no Hana breathed deeply. She saw the emperor’s flying carriage through the window, drawn by five splendid horses. The carriage was flying directly toward the stage.
The driver was so skillful that the carriage’s landing appeared effortless. The carriage alighted on the edge of the stage and then traced an arc around it, coming to a perfect stop before the Seat of the Stars where the four duchesses were waiting.
A bamboo blind concealed all but the emperor’s hem from view.
The driver leaped down and placed a step stool and new shoes for the emperor to put on when he left the carriage.
“His Imperial Majesty the Golden Raven has arrived!”
The bamboo blind in the carriage was raised, revealing Emperor Nagihiko. A purple kimono lay draped over his slight shoulders.
Katsura no Hana watched him for a few moments. His eyes met hers briefly, and he smiled. She was startled by how pleased she was to see him again. Their last meeting hadn’t been very exciting, after all.
She was not the only one happy to see him. The other duchesses gave Nagihiko their best smiles.
“I am happy to see you all on this auspicious day,” Nagihiko said to the duchesses.
Katsura no Hana wondered when she’d started thinking of his solemn politeness as endearing.
“Let us sit together and converse as friends.”
Hotaru nodded magnanimously. Yamabuki smiled, and Tsuru ga Oto sighed in satisfaction.
***
Skilled musicians played the koto and the biwa on the stage. Nagihiko visited each duchess in turn, exchanging a few polite words with them all. He praised each of the kimonos they’d displayed for him, shared their food and drink, and laughed with them.
Nagihiko went to Hotaru first, as was expected. They shared fruit from the human world arranged artfully in fine china saucers.
When it was Yamabuki’s turn, she presented her nagon and played a short piece that everyone complimented.
Katsura no Hana guessed that her turn would be last, but she didn’t mind. The atmosphere in the room was genial and calm. She’d felt miserable all day and was relieved that the Star Festival ceremony was a normal experience. She could appreciate everything about it, aside from some of the company. She was looking forward to speaking with Nagihiko again.
She found herself lamenting that she’d brought so many attendants. Katsura no Hana and Nagihiko couldn’t have a private conversation here. She decided to be satisfied with a few simple words. She wanted to thank him for making this evening as easy as possible.
After he finished speaking with Yamabuki, Nagihiko went to Tsuru ga Oto. Her seat was next to Katsura no Hana’s. Katsura no Hana was curious about what they would say to each other, so she decided to eavesdrop a little.
Their greetings were stiffly formal. Nagihiko praised the kimono that Tsuru ga Oto had presented for him, and Tsuru ga Oto thanked him for his praise. She recommended the rice wine that was poured into cups for them both. The rice wine was a special product of Hokke Territory.
Nagihiko accepted the cup of rice wine with customary grace and took a sip.
Then Tsuru ga Oto leaned in and whispered, “Is it true that Your Imperial Majesty frequently summons a rakujō from the Saike family for private meetings?”
Katsura no Hana had to strain her ears to hear Tsuru ga Oto’s question. It shocked her. She would never ask the emperor that, especially not in such a blunt way. She wanted to call Tsuru ga Oto out for being unpardonably rude. She stared directly at Tsuru ga Oto while she waited to hear Nagihiko’s response.
Nagihiko froze still, his hand on the cup of rice wine.
Tsuru ga Oto had been unusually tense since the start of the ceremony. Had she been waiting all this time to confront Nagihiko with her impertinent question? Katsura no Hana knew that Tsuru ga Oto could be reckless, but she’d thought that recklessness had limits.
Nagihiko set the cup of rice wine on a low wooden table inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
“It is true. I see Sumio often. She provides reports for me on various matters.”
Tsuru ga Oto cut him off before he finished speaking. “Isn’t that betrayal?” she asked, her voice far louder than before.
Everyone had heard her. The musicians missed notes and ladies-in-waiting ceased their chatter.
“Betrayal?” Nagihiko asked. “Whatever do you mean?”
Tsuru ga Oto’s words came relentlessly, like a stream of water breaking through a dam. “I am disappointed that you cannot understand something so simple, Your Imperial Majesty. We are the four duchess of Sakura Palace. One of us shall be your lawful wife. How could we permit you to dote on another woman of low birth simply because she has a pretty face?”
Nagihiko’s expression hardened. “What are you talking about? Another woman of low birth? Sumio was born a duchess of the Saike family. And I don’t dote on her at all. You’ve completely misunderstood the situation.”
“Misunderstood, have I? I doubt it. If you’re not aware, you should know that her father is a commoner. Common blood runs through her veins. She is not noble enough to enter the Imperial Court through ordinary means. She is unfit for Your Imperial Majesty to associate with.”
Tsuru ga Oto’s face was bright red and she was gasping for breath.
“The Saike family only cares about appearances. They are not people of substance. Emperor Nazukihiko died because he placed his trust in them. Please do not repeat the same mistake, Your Imperial Majesty!”
Tsuru ga Oto was practically foaming at the mouth from rage.
Nagihiko looked at her, calm and steady. “Is that what you think? I think there is more to the Saike family than appearances. I met Sumio’s father the other day. He graduated from the Keisōin and served with honor. He is every bit as noble as I am.”
Tsuru ga Oto gasped. “You must not be deceived by such nonsense,” she said.
Nagihiko wasn’t listening to her anymore.
Katsura no Hana wasn’t precisely pleased that Nagihiko had defended her family and her father’s rank. This conversation would cause more trouble for her in the long run; she was sure of it.
Tsuru ga Oto wept openly as she berated Nagihiko. Her attendants and ladies-in-waiting were clustered about her, confused over what to do. Someone had to intervene to stop this madness.
Akane stood at Katsura no Hana’s side and muttered under her breath about the ineptitude of certain attendants.
Kikuno was next to Akane. She sighed loudly and stepped forward. “Duchess Katsura no Hana, do I have your permission to act?”
“Go ahead,” Katsura no Hana said.
Kikuno rushed over to where Tsuru ga Oto and her attendants were seated.
Tsuru ga Oto was shouting like a displeased toddler. “I am only saying this for Your Imperial Majesty’s sake! Your attention to a lowly rakujō is an insult to us all. Understand that we cannot allow this to continue!”
“I’m afraid that I can’t allow you to continue,” Yamabuki said calmly. She stood behind Kikuno and took a few steps forward. She looked like she was trying to wedge herself between Tsuru ga Oto and Nagihiko. Her kimono was the color of the night sky. A slight smile flitted over her face.
Yamabuki turned an unwavering stare on Tsuru ga Oto. “Duchess Tsuru ga Oto has forgotten a few things,” she said lightly. “Perhaps this is presumptuous of me to say, but I simply must say it. Sumio is not a commoner. She is a government official who passed the civil service examination. It is senseless to chastise him for meeting with a government official, Duchess Tsuru ga Oto. Our emperor should call upon such people as he sees fit. How else is he supposed to govern Yamauchi? No man can do all the work of governance himself.” She sniffed dismissively, her nose in the air.
Tsuru ga Oto gaped at her. She looked like she’d just discovered that a flower could speak. “I understand that perfectly well,” she said.
“Then you should cease speaking,” Yamabuki said without flinching. “It is not our place to interfere with matters of government.”
Tsuru ga Oto sneered at her. “So you are fine with what His Imperial Majesty is doing, Duchess Yamabuki?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. “It is unacceptable for you to pressure His Imperial Majesty into behaving as you wish him to simply because you are offended. You forget yourself, Duchess Tsuru ga Oto.”
Tsuru ga Oto opened her mouth and then closed it. She faced Nagihiko.
Nagihiko sat up straighter under the force of Tsuru ga Oto’s glare.
“I apologize on her behalf, Your Imperial Majesty,” Yamabuki said. “You went out of your way to come here and spend time with us, and Duchess Tsuru ga Oto has been unbearably rude to you. Please understand that Duchess Tsuru ga Oto’s words do not represent the collective opinion of the duchesses of Sakura Palace.”
Nagihiko nodded. “Of course.” His words contained no emotion. He thought it best to withdraw at once, before the situation became untenable.
The Fujimiyaren escorted Nagihiko away from the Seat of the Stars and into his waiting carriage. Katsura no Hana didn’t get a chance to speak with him that evening.
Tsuru ga Oto sat in stunned silence for long minutes after he left. When she was certain that he was gone, she directed a new wave of fury at Yamabuki.
“Duchess Yamabuki, why did you humiliate me like that?!”
Yamabuki’s eyes lingered on the place where the carriage had been. She turned toward Tsuru ga Oto slowly. “You had already humiliated His Imperial Majesty,” she said. “I couldn’t let that stand. If you have the energy to be angry at me, then be silent and reflect upon your own poor conduct.”
Katsura no Hana was startled by her withering tone. She had never heard Yamabuki say words in anger before.
“Listen, Duchess Tsuru ga Oto. Sakura Palace must be a place where His Imperial Majesty can spend his time in peace. We must have him think of us as his allies and his friends. What you did undermined his trust in us.”
“But I was thinking of all of you—”
“—Then you have not thought enough. I am grateful for your desire to defend our interests, but I am greatly troubled by the way you are acting.”
“How can you say such a thing?!”
Tsuru ga Oto looked around at the women around her and saw nothing but cold, unwelcoming gazes. She had no friends here. Not a single person was willing to step forward and help her, not even her own attendants.
Little by little, the color drained from Tsuru ga Oto’s face. “But, but, I…”
Perhaps she wanted to explain herself. No one was in the mood to listen. Tsuru ga Oto’s mouth twisted out of shape. She looked like she might burst into tears at any moment.
Tsuru ga Oto spun on her heel and left the stage without saying another word. Her attendants and ladies-in-waiting followed her in a loose line, calling her name and asking her to slow down. She left like a gust of winter wind.
“Thank you,” Hotaru said quietly. “For saying all that.”
Katsura no Hana turned and saw that Hotaru was standing near her. She was looking at Yamabuki.
Yamabuki sighed and stood up straighter. She was relieved that Tsuru ga Oto was gone. “I had to say something,” she said. “Duchess Tsuru ga Oto went too far this time. Keeping silent would have given His Imperial Majesty a poor opinion of the rest of us.”
Where had the sweet, innocent Yamabuki gone? Katsura no Hana felt like she’d been replaced with a smarter and more mature stranger.
“Duchess Yamabuki?” Katsura no Hana asked.
Yamabuki’s expression turned sheepish. “I’m really sorry I let her bully you, Duchess Katsura no Hana. I have always thought her attitude toward you was dreadful, but I was determined to get along with everyone. Perhaps it’s too late now, but please allow me to apologize.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize, Duchess Yamabuki,” Katsura no Hana said.
“I should apologize as well,” Hotaru said. “We did not participate in Duchess Tsuru ga Oto’s treatment of you, but we did allow it. Please forgive us.”
Katsura no Hana blinked. She’d never expected an apology from either of them. “I… I mean, I thank you for your consideration, duchesses.” She bowed.
Yamabuki gave her a bright smile. “You are gracious, Duchess Katsura no Hana. Thank you for accepting our apology.”
Katsura no Hana smiled back. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“We still need to do something about Duchess Tsuru ga Oto,” Hotaru said. “She should realize that her actions are not just reflecting poorly on herself, but also on the Yellow Raven.”
Katsura no Hana felt uneasy. The problem of Tsuru ga Oto felt too big for her to solve.
“Will… will you be all right, Duchess Yamabuki?” Katsura no Hana asked. “Should we fear retaliation from the Hokke family?”
Yamabuki calmly opened her fan.
“Thank you for your concern. Duchess Tsuru ga Oto is not the only one with ties to the Yellow Raven. I will send a formal report of exactly what happened to my family. The Yellow Raven is not a foolish man. After he knows the particulars of this whole affair, he will not let any affection for his relatives cloud his judgment.”
“That may be true,” Katsura no Hana said. She knew that the Touke family had power and influence. She hoped that would be sufficient to shield Yamabuki.
“We should also talk about our situation,” Hotaru said. She was looking at Katsura no Hana.
“What about it?” Katsura no Hana asked.
“She’s right,” Yamabuki put in. “We need to talk about the rakujō. Not that I suspect His Imperial Majesty of anything sordid, but it is clear that the emperor is fond of her. Your lady-in-waiting, Akane, is her sister, isn’t she?”
Akane stepped forward when her name was said.
“I have heard that His Imperial Majesty has taken an interest in my sister’s stories of the human world,” Akane said. “That is all I know. I don’t know if he holds any particular affection for her.”
“I see,” Hotaru murmured gloomily.
Yamabuki shrugged. “Only the emperor can know his own heart. If he doesn’t wish to return to Sakura Palace, we’ll be in a poor position to sway him. We don’t know what will happen from here on out, but no good will come of us fighting amongst ourselves. Let’s cooperate as much as we can.”
Yamabuki was taking charge in a way that Katsura no Hana had never expected. She vastly preferred Yamabuki’s leadership to Tsuru ga Oto’s.
Katsura no Hana nodded firmly. “Yes. Let’s do what we can together.”
***
When they returned to the Autumn Hall, Akane said, “That was… surprising. Perhaps we should have expected Duchess Tsuru ga Oto’s rampage, but I never expected Duchess Yamabuki to become so angry.” She shook her head.
Kikuno gave her a knowing glance. “I guessed it before, but now I’m sure. Duchess Yamabuki is uncommonly clever. She looks as harmless as a cloud, but her act was too perfect. I knew she had to be putting up some kind of front.”
Katsura no Hana agreed with Kikuno’s assessment. “Perhaps what we saw today was Duchess Yamabuki’s true face.” Yamabuki and Empress Asebi were alike in looks. Katsura no Hana had thought that they were alike in temperament as well, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Perhaps Duchess Yamabuki thought that copying the empress’ mannerisms would win her favor from the emperor,” Kikuno said. “But she knows that Sumio caught his eye, so she decided to shape herself more in that mold instead.”
Yamabuki’s personality was so flexible that Katsura no Hana suspected that Kikuno was correct. She had seen the meek and childlike duchess transform into an intelligent, strong-willed woman in an instant. Tsuru ga Oto flouted her knowledge of the Imperial Court, but Katsura no Hana thought that Yamabuki knew more and said less.
She couldn’t let her guard down against Yamabuki. She had already turned on Tsuru ga Oto. She might turn on anyone. It was impossible to know her true motives.
“I’m sure she acted so warmly toward our duchess to get you to speak about your sister,” Kikuno said to Akane.
Akane nodded. “You must be careful, Duchess Katsura no Hana.”
“I understand.”
Not being openly bullied would be a welcome change. Even if they were only pretending to get along, that would be better than being treated like a pariah in Sakura Palace.
Katsura no Hana would be cautious, but she would keep up appearances. She looked up at the ceiling of the Autumn Hall. “If Duchess Tsuru ga Oto would change like Duchess Yamabuki did, things would be much simpler. But that is probably impossible,” she said.
Kikuno and Akane exchanged dark looks.
***
By the time Nagihiko returned to the Imperial Hall, he was exhausted. He leaned against the armrest of his throne.
“The duchesses scolded you rather thoroughly, Your Imperial Majesty,” Yoshimichi said in a light, teasing tone.
Nagihiko shot him a sharp glare.
“Do not make light of it. I never imagined Duchess Tsuru ga Oto would say such things. I was scrupulously polite to all of them. I did not deserve that.”
He summoned Sumio to him because he was trying to do his duty as the emperor. He didn’t seek her out because she was an attractive young woman. He couldn’t believe that Tsuru ga Oto had said he’d betrayed the duchesses. He hadn’t done any such thing. He didn’t feel sorry for Tsuru ga Oto or the other duchesses. He thought that they were being unreasonable.
He had been so careful with all of the duchesses. He doubted if any one of them cared about him at all, even the slightest bit. The thought weighed him down. He would never be liked for himself.
“It is only natural for the duchesses to be dissatisfied, Your Imperial Majesty,” Yoshimichi said. “You have been spending a great deal of time with that rakujō.” His tone was deliberately casual.
Nagihiko bristled.
“You have never sent me away from you before, Your Imperial Majesty,” Yoshimichi said. “You must understand that people talk. What you should do now is select your bride and your concubine without delay. This is no time for you to be dallying with a rakujō.”
Yoshimichi kept his tone light, but Nagihiko knew that he was completely serious. He faced Yoshimichi’s facetious half-smile and wondered if he’d ever truly trusted the man at all.
“Are my actions so objectionable?” Nagihiko asked quietly. He was little more than a child. Until recently, he’d had no choice but to leave matters of governance to the Yellow Raven. For his entire life, he’d believed that if he trusted the Yellow Raven and did as he said, then everyone would be happy.
If only things could be so simple. Nagihiko was no longer a child, and he felt like he owed it to himself and the people of Yamauchi to be a good emperor. He couldn’t ignore the troubling reports that had reached him. Visiting the women scheming to wed him seemed like a complete waste of time.
Yoshimichi noticed his strange mood. He tried to smile and chatter about pointless things to lift his spirits. When Nagihiko just kept staring at him in silence, his false smile collapsed at the corners.
There was a silence. Then Nagihiko said, “I must know something. Whose attendant are you? Mine, or the Yellow Raven’s?”
Yoshimichi prostrated himself before the throne. “I am your attendant, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Very good.” He gestured for Yoshimichi to rise. “From now on, I forbid you to make reports to the Yellow Raven.”
Nagihiko knew that Yoshimichi reported his movements to the Yellow Raven as a matter of course. He’d never forbidden that before, and he expected resistance from Yoshimichi.
Yoshimichi lowered his head and said, “As you command, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Nagihiko was surprised, but oddly relieved. He was too tired for an interpersonal battle right now.
***
“Today I have brought glitter prints about the Valley’s restructuring,” Sumio said. Another low-ranked government official accompanied her, carrying a huge stack of glitter prints. Nagihiko had been made aware of the man’s presence in advance. The short, pot-bellied official looked entirely out of place in the audience hall.
Yoshimichi was present; Nagihiko had made him promise that he wouldn’t interrupt while Nagihiko and Sumio were speaking. His forehead was deeply furrowed as his gaze swept over the stack of glitter prints.
If Sumio sensed Yoshimichi’s animosity, she showed no sign of it.
“Would you please take a look at this, Your Imperial Majesty?” Sumio asked. She held out an old printed sheet that had visible blotches. The paper used to print the document was of exceedingly low quality.
Nagihiko read the title of the document. “Wait… this is the first Disaster Proclamation?”
“It is,” Sumio said.
Nagihiko’s eyes snagged on Emperor Nazukihiko’s signature. He felt like the dead man had just walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. He read through the Disaster Proclamation at speed. It was written in plain language so that anyone with basic literacy could understand it. He read that the fields had a bountiful harvest that year—the year of the great war with the Kuisaru. The report cautioned that this bumper crop shouldn’t be relied upon. It claimed that harvests would be smaller in the coming years and urged people to plan ahead.
The proclamation also claimed that disasters like earthquakes would become more common over time. Every reader of the proclamation was encouraged to help themselves and their neighbors weather these disasters.
The current Disaster Proclamation mentioned disasters, of course. It laid out guidelines for when people should flee their homes if there was a flood or an earthquake. Compared with the first Disaster Proclamation, the current one was focused on specific threats while the first one was more general.
If the Disaster Proclamation was initially meant to warn against all threats, was it possible to figure out what Emperor Nazukihiko had been so worried about? Nagihiko had vague recollections that Nazukihiko had entered the mountain god’s divine realm, but he didn’t remember why that might be dangerous for Yamauchi. He could surmise that Emperor Nazukihiko had whatever threat the mountain god’s divine realm posed to Yamauchi in mind while writing the Disaster Proclamation.
“I have no memory of it myself, but Lord Tawara no Jō remembers what it was like when this was distributed,” Sumio said.
The low-ranked official looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. He grimaced.
“Are you from the provinces?” Nagihiko asked.
“I am from Fukī Village, which is in Medaka Province in Nanke Territory. I remember that there were street preachers that tried to make everyone afraid of the end of the world, but no one really believed them. There was a great hullabaloo after the great war with the Kuisaru ended. When the Disaster Proclamation was read out, most people didn’t take it seriously. The novelty of seeing the emperor’s words printed and distributed to the common people was the most surprising thing. That had never been done before. Where I lived, no one seemed particularly concerned about any new disasters.”
Nagihiko read through the Disaster Proclamation again. As he read, he realized that Emperor Nazukihiko had feared the total destruction of Yamauchi—and soon. But why? And how were people supposed to prepare for that?
“Emperor Nazukihiko entrusted disaster preparedness to the nobility,” Sumio said. She pointed out a few sections of the proclamation to prove her point. “You can see here—flood control projects, cultivating new fields in Souke Territory’s inferior soil, creating medicinal herb gardens… all of these were originally within the purview of the Four Families. They were supposed to use their resources to get these projects done. Masuho no Susuki, my mother, opened her hospital when she did to support disaster relief efforts.
“But you can also see with your own eyes that a lot of those projects were never completed,” Sumio said. “Though some certainly have been.”
Yes. Because of laborers pressed into service. The people of the Valley had become the workforce of the nobility, completing public works projects cheaply. Nagihiko would have to be blind not to see the connection that Sumio was drawing between the first Disaster Proclamation and current events.
“Many of these projects started after I became the emperor, didn’t they?” Nagihiko asked.
Emperor Nazukihiko had told the nobles to foot the bill for public projects. The Yellow Raven had shunted that bill from the nobles to Yamauchi’s poor commoners. That explained what had happened to the Valley and its people.
Nagihiko thought again that Nazukihiko was a better ruler than the nobles gave him credit for. He’d punished corrupt tenant farmers and he’d been fair to commoners. But after his death, corruption and violence reigned supreme once more. Nagihiko’s father hadn’t outlived Nazukihiko for long, and then this mess fell on the child Nagihiko’s shoulders.
This was a crisis. Should Nagihiko abide by the Yellow Raven’s wishes and focus on Sakura Palace and choosing a bride? Or should he ignore that and do what he could for Yamauchi and its people?
He stared intently at the spotted paper as conflicting priorities pushed themselves to the front of his mind. He already knew what he should do.
“I compared your reports with those I received elsewhere,” Nagihiko said to Sumio.
Sumio leaned forward.
“It is true that the laws favor the interests of the nobility.”
It was clear from Yoshimichi’s reports that people who rejected or buried the complaints of commoners had a vested interest in keeping those complaints quiet. Emperor Nazukihiko had tried to help the commoners, but that meant cutting into the profits of the Four Families, who resented his interference. It was unclear why Takako, the former empress, had acted as she had, but Nagihiko had no trouble understanding why the Four Families continued to slander Emperor Nazukihiko’s memory.
I can’t repeat the same mistake as my brother, Nagihiko thought.
“I cannot tolerate my people being treated so poorly,” he said, “but I don’t know how I can change it. I have seen past attempts to change it fail.”
Nagihiko was merely a figurehead. The Yellow Raven was the true leader of Yamauchi. Nagihiko couldn’t oppose him without losing everything.
“You told me to do what I can, but I lack the knowledge I require to choose the right path. Please lend me your strength and your abilities. Maybe we can solve this problem together.”
Yoshimichi gasped, but he said nothing.
Tawara no Jō’s face was grim.
Sumio smiled. “If I can help you, Your Imperial Majesty, then I will,” she said.
Nagihiko sighed in relief. “Perhaps your knowledge of the human world can help us here. What do you think?”
“The human world’s history is long, and there have been many people who have sought solutions to matters like these.”
That sounded encouraging. Nagihiko was about to say so when Sumio put up a hand in warning.
“Let me say this first. I don’t think the human world will give us the solutions we seek. I think that their perspectives will help us, but the human world and Yamauchi are too different. They cannot follow the same rules and achieve the same results. It is not true that the human world is advanced and that Yamauchi is a backwater in comparison. It is dangerous to compare the human world and Yamauchi directly.”
Nagihiko absorbed this. She sounded serious, but also strangely detached.
“The past does not repeat,” Sumio said. “Sometimes it rhymes, but what is happening now is always going to be significantly different from the past. Every Golden Raven since the first has done their best to make Yamauchi happy and prosperous. I believe that should be our goal as well. Don’t let the human world’s policies blind you to the good work that past emperors have done, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Nagihiko nodded. “I will not. As you say, it is important to consider many perspectives.”
Sumio nodded, satisfied. “Yamauchi prospered for many years despite our rather simple legal system, but there was no time in our history where every Yatagarasu was happy. It is incredibly difficult to achieve such a thing. I feel that there is change in the air. In the future, those who have been oppressed will hold power, and the oppressors will lose it. That’s what I think.”
“The future?”
“A future where Yamauchi dwindles and dies.”
Sumio tapped the Disaster Proclamation with her fingertip. “I came to the conclusion that things could not stay as they are after reading this document. I am certain that everything written in it is true. My parents served Emperor Nazukihiko. They both met the mountain god face-to-face. I believe that Emperor Nazukihiko was correct, and that someday soon, Yamauchi will cease to be. The mountain god foretold it. Emperor Nazukihiko shared that prophecy with Yamauchi, but he was not believed.”
Tawara no Jō recoiled as if he’d been struck.
Nagihiko tried not to show his agitation on his face. He swallowed heavily. “That is a rather extreme interpretation of the facts,” he said.
The Yellow Raven had never claimed that Yamauchi would cease to be. Nagihiko knew that there was danger to Yamauchi, but he’d never thought that his home would vanish into nothing one day. He was reminded of the street preachers that Tawara no Jō had heard as a child, ranting about the end of the world. Of course no one would believe them.
Sumio was serious. She believed that there was a world-ending threat on the horizon. She frowned slightly at Nagihiko.
“Perhaps,” she said, “though based on how the Yellow Raven is acting, Yamauchi is certainly facing an imminent crisis. Has Your Imperial Majesty heard anything regarding his recent activities?”
Nagihiko shrugged. “I don’t know how he spends his days.”
“I see,” Sumio murmured. She didn’t seem convinced that he was telling the truth. “Well, setting that aside for the moment… Let’s say that the mochi Yamauchi produces every year used to be sufficient to feed everyone. Now it is not, and for every year that passes, the amount of mochi that Yamauchi produces will be less and less. Faced with such a situation, Emperor Nazukihiko commanded those with more mochi to share it with the people who had less. That failed, so the Yellow Raven is eliminating the people he views as useless to reduce the number of mouths to feed, or trying to produce more mochi for everyone by turning people who would otherwise be useless to him into horses.”
Nagihiko didn’t think that Emperor Nazukihiko or the Yellow Raven had the right of it. He needed to try something else.
“Then the only thing left to do is to encourage people to share the mochi of their own free will so that no one starves,” Nagihiko said. He understood why Sumio had laughed at this proposition before, but from his perspective, it was the only option left.
Sumio didn’t laugh this time. She thought for a moment and then said, “In the human world, I learned that for people to accept being eighty percent full, a system is necessary so that they can share the problems of those who are hungrier than them.”
“A system?” Nagihiko asked.
“That’s right. Your Imperial Majesty can be as kind and benevolent as possible, but mercy and compassion won’t solve the problem of hunger. No matter how cruel you are, people will still follow you if they are full. That is the nature of power, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said dryly. “As long as Yamauchi continues on the path of ruin, people will resent and oppose you. If you try to protect the poor, the wealthy will turn against you. If Yamauchi continues to decline at the current rate, it will collapse from within long before it ceases to exist.
“That is why I believe it is best for people to choose the manner of their own destruction before it comes to that.”
“What do you mean?” Nagihiko asked.
“Choose a representative from each village to speak on behalf of their neighbors. Create a system where these representatives discuss issues and decide how to solve them at the local level. Isn’t it only natural for people to decide what happens to them? This is called representation in government in the human world. It’s foundational to democracy, a system where people govern themselves.”
Sumio was unaware that she had just said something explosive. Every eye in the room was upon her.
“For this to work, Yamauchi’s problems must be clear to everyone,” Sumio said. “People must accept that harvests will decrease and that revenue will be lower each year. People must plan ahead for that. They might not obey rules that are imposed on them from above, but they should obey laws that they chose to enact themselves.”
This conversation had taken a strange turn.
“And what does that mean?” Nagihiko asked.
“It means the people should govern Yamauchi, not the Golden Raven.”
Silence fell. Yoshimichi, Tawara no Jō, and the Yamauchishu in the room stared at her without blinking.
Sumio looked like she was enjoying herself. “Of course, if we just create a system and foist it on people, no one will use it. If you desire it, Your Imperial Majesty, and you seek feedback from your people, I believe that we can create that system together.”
Nagihiko’s mouth had gone dry. “But… but if I did that…”
“If the Golden Raven desired to create such a system, he would be an irresponsible fool.” The Yellow Raven’s deep voice boomed in the audience chamber.
Nagihiko hadn’t heard his voice in so long that he almost didn’t recognize it.
The Yamauchishu guarding the entrance of the audience chamber moved aside to make way for the Yellow Raven. They quickly bowed their heads as he passed.
The Yellow Raven was tall and imposing in his black robes. A cloth-of-gold priest’s stole wrapped around his neck and fell over his shoulders. A braided ceremonial cord wrapped around him from shoulder to hip. His wavy hair fell loose down his back.
Nagihiko dreaded to be in his presence. He had feared the Yellow Raven since his earliest childhood.
The Yellow Raven’s soft smile unsettled Nagihiko. The Yellow Raven didn’t look like an old man, but when he smiled, all his wrinkles deepened.
“Lord Sessai,” Nagihiko said. His voice trembled.
Lord Haruma entered behind the Yellow Raven and fell into step behind him as he approached Nagihiko.
Nagihiko looked over at Yoshimichi, who must have betrayed him. Yoshimichi couldn’t look him in the eyes.
“My apologies for arriving unannounced,” the Yellow Raven said. “It looks like you were in the middle of an important discussion. I took the liberty of coming in person in case I might be of assistance, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Nagihiko bit his lower lip.
Technically, no one was allowed to enter this audience chamber without Nagihiko’s permission. The Yellow Raven should not be here. The Yamauchishu should have prevented him from entering. The illusion that Nagihiko had any power at all had shattered. Everyone in the Imperial Palace was under the Yellow Raven’s control.
How could Nagihiko have forgotten that?
The Yellow Raven hadn’t made many public appearances of late. He conducted business through his subordinates for the most part. Perhaps that behavior had lulled Nagihiko into a false sense of security. He’d never expected the Yellow Raven to confront him in person.
Since he’d met Sumio, Nagihiko had been behaving more willfully than usual. It seemed that the Yellow Raven thought that Nagihiko had crossed some invisible line and needed to be brought to heel.
Nagihiko gaped up at the Yellow Raven. Words deserted him.
The Yellow Raven kept coming closer. “I have heard that Your Imperial Majesty has been having some rather intriguing conversations with this young woman,” he said, gesturing to Sumio. “I confess that I was fascinated by what heard secondhand, so I felt the need to come myself and listen.”
His tone was friendly enough, but the pressure he radiated was immense. Nagihiko struggled to breathe. He felt like the air in the room grew heavier with every step the Yellow Raven took.
Tawara no Jō was deathly pale.
Sumio remained perfectly composed.
“You have studied the human world,” the Yellow Raven said to Sumio. “But secondhand knowledge is not as useful or reliable as experiential knowledge, wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes were like ice.
Sumio met his gaze without flinching. She smiled with admirable insincerity. “Of course I agree,” she said. “I am aware that you studied abroad in the human world extensively, Yellow Raven. I’m sure I know far less than you do. I must beg your forgiveness for offering my foolish, uninformed opinions to His Imperial Majesty. I beg that you will guide him with your superior knowledge.”
Lord Haruma raised an eyebrow at her.
The Yellow Raven’s face was an unchanging mask. He faced Nagihiko and said, “The human world has many systems of governance, Your Imperial Majesty. To force our people to follow one of them is the epitome of stupidity.”
Nagihiko blinked. “Why are you so certain of that?” he asked.
“Because people are idiots,” the Yellow Raven said. He sounded like he was spouting ancient wisdom. “Consider the variables. For a democratic system to function well, representatives must care about governing well. They must have similar levels of education. They must be conscientious and honest. In short, they must all have similar qualities that you possess, Your Imperial Majesty, and on top of that, they must cooperate with one another.”
The Yellow Raven shook his head sadly. “I have seen this system of governance in the human world. Not a single representative there was honest, educated, and principled. Not one.” He said this regretfully, like he wished that things were different. But he’d seen the human world with his own eyes.
“It is idealistic to entrust government to the people and by the people,” the Yellow Raven said. “It is not practical. In the human world, vile dictators who slaughter thousands of people are elected as democratic leaders. Sumio spoke of representative government and people choosing their own leaders, but when that is actually done, monstrous villains who are good at manipulating people become rulers, not people who are qualified to lead.
“Common people lack the education and sophistication to see through political manipulation,” the Yellow Raven said, sing-song. “When everyone decides together, it means that no one accepts responsibility. If there is a choice before you that could kill hundreds if you chose one way or thousands if you chose another, there is no real reason to pick the objectively better choice. Choices become meaningless because all of them lead to the same poor outcomes. Democracy is government by chance, not choice.
“If we wish to create a government where the representatives excel only at dodging responsibility, then by all means, let us create a democracy.”
Sumio laughed.
The Yellow Raven’s gaze shifted to her. “Is there something you wish to say?”
Sumio smiled. “If you will permit me to speak, Yellow Raven.”
The Yellow Raven shrugged.
“I largely agree with what you are saying, Yellow Raven,” Sumio said. “Democratic government will never be perfect. But tyrannical dictatorships are not perfect, either. Rulers are not chosen by the mountain god for their wisdom and ability. The strong and the cunning are the ones who gain power most easily. That is a fundamental fact of power.”
She tilted her lovely head and looked up at the Yellow Raven. “You say that a democratic system would result in representatives avoiding responsibility,” she said. “But with power dispersed between multiple people, those they governed would have more options to act against cruel despotism.”
“And in exchange, government would move at the pace of a snail,” the Yellow Raven said. “There is no way to satisfy everyone. The attempt would cripple a representative government’s effectiveness. The will of the mob would prevail, even if their will guides them along a path that won’t help anyone in the long run. You would set the wisdom of the ruler below the wisdom of the uneducated mob.”
“Your ‘wisdom of the ruler’ idea implies that the future you envision benefits a certain person, or a certain class of person,” she said. “You are right that the mob may not choose the best path for the future, but I also believe that they would never choose the worst one. A despotic ruler is free to choose whatever path they like, no matter how much harm it causes.”
Sumio and the Yellow Raven were in a war of words, and their verbal sparring had left everyone else confused and intimidated. They might have been the only two people in the room. They weren’t paying attention to anyone else.
“Responsible governance requires sacrifice and compromise,” the Yellow Raven said. “The mob might choose a path that is not utterly destructive, but if they keep making the safest choice for the mob, they will swiftly run out of choices. There is always a price to be paid for security. The mob will fracture, causing infighting. Choosing any path becomes more difficult over time in that situation.”
Sumio gave him a cold smile. “There are people who believe that heading toward ruin together is preferable to prioritizing some people over others. If I were given the choice, I would pick the first option, not the second. I am sure that many people feel the same.”
“But not everyone,” the Yellow Raven said calmly. He was warming to his subject. He was not irritated or displeased. He seemed motivated by the desire to educate. “Rule by the mob requires consensus. Where will a ship with nothing but captains sail next? It is obvious that you would wish to choose your own path—who wouldn’t? But if everyone did that, then everyone would choose a unique path for themselves.
“If we could make ideals real by claiming that they are, there would be no trouble. An ideal path would exist for people to follow in such a world. But that is not our world, and no ideal path for everyone will ever exist. That is why governance is difficult, and why it requires compromise and sacrifice. The ideal path for one person will not be ideal for the person standing next to them.”
“But if we don’t work toward creating an ideal, then how are we to proceed?” Sumio asked. “Any path that is not the ideal will lead to harm. All we are doing by choosing the least bad path is prolonging the inevitable. We should set our sights on an ideal and move toward it, even if it takes more time to achieve.”
The Yellow Raven shook his head in disbelief. “To attempt that in Yamauchi would be sheer folly. Destruction may come to us tomorrow. It may come in ten years. We have no time to pursue fanciful daydreams. Devoting resources to such a thing might cost us lives when the disaster finally comes. Even in the human world, when there is an emergency, power is usually granted to one individual to steer people through the crisis.”
Sumio’s smile was all teeth. “You have misunderstood me, I think. In the human world, the people who take charge in an emergency are usually elected officials, are they not? But you have not been elected. How can you claim to speak for the people of Yamauchi?”
There was a silence.
The Yellow Raven cleared his throat. “We do not know when the disaster will come, so shouldn’t we prepare to face it as quickly as possible?”
“Yes,” Sumio said. “We don’t know when the disaster will happen, so we should start moving toward the ideal path now. We have no time to waste on other options. If you knew the disaster would come tomorrow, would you change course?”
“I would not,” the Yellow Raven said. His polite smile slipped off his face.
Sumio stared at the Yellow Raven like she was searching for a chink in his armor. She wasn’t smiling, either.
Nagihiko lacked the courage to step between them. Lord Haruma was paying attention, but he had stepped back. Nagihiko didn’t expect him to interfere, though he thought that Haruma usually would have. This situation was unprecedented.
Sumio sighed, exasperated, and then said, “Shouldn’t people be allowed to question the current path, at least? Spreading false information and dismissing people’s complaints cannot be considered ideal by any standard.”
The Yellow Raven’s eyebrow twitched. “False information? When have I ever spread false information?”
“In recent years, the Disaster Proclamations have mostly concerned threats from the Kuisaru. They no longer warn people about the imminent destruction of Yamauchi. If people don’t know that Yamauchi will be destroyed, how can you expect them to act with any urgency?
“More than a hundred years ago, there was a true Golden Raven who tried to protect Yamauchi by sealing the Forbidden Gate,” Sumio said. “As a result, the mountain god suffered greatly, died, and was reborn. Yamauchi’s existence relies on the mountain god’s power, and that is waning because the Yatagarasu failed to serve the mountain god for a century. But people don’t know that. They don’t know that their leader failed them, and that Yamauchi will suffer destruction as a result. If you don’t tell them, how can you expect them to act? It is only natural for them to feel no sense of crisis. They haven’t been told about any crisis.”
“Wait. I don’t know anything about that,” Nagihiko said. He was stunned. He had heard that the mountain god had foretold Yamauchi’s eventual destruction, but he’d never been told that a previous true Golden Raven was involved.
The Yellow Raven’s brow furrowed. “Where did you hear that?” he asked Sumio.
“My mother heard it from Empress Hamayū. She was the empress’ personal attendant at the time.”
Hamayū was Nazukihiko’s wife. After his death, she’d devolved into hysterical madness. No one had seen her for more than a decade.
“How irksome,” the Yellow Raven said. “To think that she would let such a secret slip… but then, she always was irresponsible. I never thought she possessed sufficient awareness of her own position.”
Nagihiko glanced at Sumio to gauge her reaction. Her expression didn’t shift at all.
“I am in no position to comment on Empress Hamayū’s qualifications,” Sumio said. “But based on your reaction, I think that what she said to my mother was true.”
The Yellow Raven said nothing.
Sumio looked the Yellow Raven in the eyes and said, “The past true Golden Raven was more concerned with saving himself than helping Yamauchi,” she said. “Isn’t that why we’re facing these troubles now? The path you’ve chosen to follow suffers from the same kind of short-sightedness, Yellow Raven. If we don’t face the past and correct our mistakes, we are doomed to repeat them.”
The Yellow Raven smiled slightly. “All right. Let’s discuss the facts, since you think you know them. I don’t know precisely what Empress Hamayū said, but only the Kuisaru made the claim that the previous true Golden Raven betrayed the mountain god. I was there when the Kuisaru leader said that, and I have always believed it to be a lie. No one knows what really happened in the distant past.”
Sumio opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“I have made inquiries,” the Yellow Raven said. “Many of them, over the years. I have never found any evidence in Yamauchi that supports the claim that the Kuisaru leader made.” He closed his eyes.
After a slight pause, the Yellow Raven said, “Emperor Nazukihiko was troubled by his lack of past memories. Every other true Golden Raven has shared the memories of all his predecessors. But even if he’d regained those memories, we still might not know what happened, or why. Based on our own history, we must assume that the true Golden Raven before Nazukihiko was acting in Yamauchi’s best interests. If he had decided not to seal the Forbidden Gate, the mountain god would have had free access to Yamauchi for the past century. He could have destroyed Yamauchi on a whim at any point. We lack a great deal of context and information from that time.
“Would you condemn that true Golden Raven when he cannot defend himself from your accusations?” the Yellow Raven asked. “You do not even know why he acted as he did.” He shook his head and muttered, “Anyone can say anything about the past, I suppose, since no one knows.”
Sumio’s eyes narrowed. “You may be right. It could be that the true Golden Raven at that time made the best choice they could. But it is undeniable that our own choices are limited because of his actions in the past. We cannot make the same mistakes he did, or the sacrifices he made for the sake of Yamauchi will be meaningless.”
“And how are we to learn from his mistakes when we don’t even know if the true Golden Raven made a mistake?” the Yellow Raven asked. “This is the trouble with rumors and information that is reported secondhand. Telling Yamauchi’s people uncertain rumors and presenting them as facts will help no one. Are you advocating for confusing people with lies and speculation?” He looked down his nose at Sumio.
“I am the Yellow Raven. I am responsible for protecting Yamauchi, and I take that responsibility seriously. I have no time to indulge the hopes and dreams of a spoiled child.”
Sumio held his gaze. “You know there are problems with the current system, but you will let those problems persist so that you can protect Yamauchi as a whole?” she asked.
“I have the most information about our situation. Therefore, I must be responsible for it.”
These solemn words hushed the room. All eyes were on the Yellow Raven. Yoshimichi, Haruma, and the Yamauchishu were deeply moved, though they tried not to show it.
Tawara no Jō had shrunk into himself during the conversation between the Yellow Raven and Sumio, but now he looked up.
“But… what about after you die? Who will be responsible then?” Sumio asked. No one else would have dared to ask that. “When you are gone, the system you built will remain, but there is no guarantee that your successor will think the same way you do.”
The Yellow Raven shrugged. “That, too, is my responsibility. I will choose a capable successor before my death.” He laughed mechanically. “I understand that you wish to improve Yamauchi in various ways. I agree that many things could be improved. I recall that you offered to assist me after you took the civil service examination. Has that changed?”
Sumio’s smile dimpled her cheeks. “No, it has not.” With almost exaggerated politeness, Sumio bowed deeply. “I understand that you do your utmost to protect Yamauchi despite your many worries, Yellow Raven. I am grateful to hear your views in such depth. I apologize if anything I said came off as thoughtless or unbearably naive. It wasn’t my intent to offend anyone, least of all you.”
The Yellow Raven put on a benevolent smile. “I shall pretend that I heard nothing insolent. Devote yourself to your own duties and responsibilities, rakujō.”
The tension in the room eased, but it wasn’t gone.
Nagihiko compared the faces of Sumio and the Yellow Raven. They looked nothing alike, but right now, their polite smiles were nearly identical.
***
“I never imagined the Yellow Raven would come. We met His Imperial Majesty and the Yellow Raven on the same day. Isn’t that a stroke of luck, Lord Tawara no Jō?” Sumio asked.
They were inside an archive of the Imperial Scriptorium. They needed to re-shelve the glitter prints they’d presented to the emperor earlier in the day.
Yes, terrible luck, Tawara no Jō thought but didn’t say. He had entered that room with the firm intention of being a pack mule. He wasn’t made of stern enough stuff to watch the Yellow Raven argue with a rakujō. He’d felt like he would drop dead at any moment while witnessing their exchange. He was still sorting through his thoughts about what he’d seen and heard.
Tawara no Jō peered through the gaps in the books and prints and looked around. There was no one in earshot aside from Sumio. “There is something that bothers me.”
Sumio’s forehead puckered. “Oh? What’s that?”
“You pretend to be polite to his face, but you hate the Yellow Raven, don’t you?”
“Oh. So someone finally saw through me.” She didn’t sound worried. She laughed.
Tawara no Jō had never heard such a carefree laugh from her before. Was he seeing her true self for the first time?
“I suppose I did get a little carried away,” she said. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to behave, honest! But I thought that I might never get an opportunity like that again. It’s hard to get a face-to-face meeting with the Yellow Raven.”
“You’re a liar,” Tawara no Jō said. “You lied to his face. You’ve never wanted to help him at all.”
Sumio’s eyes widened. “Let’s set aside my personal feelings toward Lord Sessai for a moment. It is true that I support many of his policies. Meritocracy is a good idea. Keeping Yamauchi peaceful is desirable for everyone. All of this is admirable, don’t you agree?”
Tawara no Jō glowered at her.
“It’s just… I think his methods are rubbish.”
Tawara no Jō’s cheek twitched.
“Think about it,” Sumio said. “Those methods are killing people. So many people. It’s like killing the passengers on a ship and using their bones to make life rafts for the survivors.”
“That’s a terrible analogy.”
“But it’s true.” Sumio spoke as if she had never considered the possibility that she could be wrong. “I have no idea why Lord Sessai is so obsessed with Yamauchi as a whole, but not with its well-being at an individual level. I can’t understand him at all. Is Yamauchi worth what he’s doing to preserve it?” Her eyes were round and appalled.
“It seems like you don’t like Yamauchi very much,” Tawara no Jō said.
“I don’t.” She gave him one of her customary smiles. “I hate this place, to be honest.” She laughed coldly. “Yamauchi caters only to nobles, but nobles bear no responsibility for anything. They get away with anything, even atrocities, and they do nothing to help the people they rule—the people they rely on to survive. In fact, they harm them in every conceivable way. It’s hard to like such a place.”
“Oh.” Tawara no Jō felt like he’d finally understood her. Her presence had always bothered him, and now he thought he knew why. “You came to me on purpose, didn’t you? You were always planning to use me to access the records you wanted to see.”
Meeting Matsutaka hadn’t been a coincidence. Tawara no Jō guessed that Matsutaka already knew who he was.
Sumio’s expression was grave. “I knew you got a perfect score on the civil service examination before I met you,” she said. “Such talent is rare. I don’t mean to insult you or your work, but you’ve been languishing in the Imperial Scriptorium for more than a decade with no hope of promotion. You have not been judged fairly according to your merit, and you should be.”
She narrowed her eyes like a cat. “A noble must have ruined your career prospects, right? Did you get into a fight with one, or draw the wrong kind of attention?”
Sumio’s guess was almost right. Tawara no Jō hadn’t fought with any nobles, of course, but he’d noticed an error in one of the texts from the human world that he’d been copying. He had corrected the error and pointed it out to his supervisor. He hadn’t expected any negative consequences for that.
“Don’t you think Yamauchi is cruel and unfair?” Sumio asked.
Tawara no Jō took some time to consider the question. “You probably already know this, but I was born a mountain raven. My parents were tenant farmers. We were so poor that we couldn’t always afford to eat. I grew up watching my parents bow and scrape before the nobles who came to collect our crops each year. Usually, they left us with nothing. I still don’t know how we survived that for so long.”
Sumio listened and didn’t interrupt.
“My parents didn’t want me to suffer the same kind of life, so they sent me to a temple school. But I was treated badly there, too. Not because I did anything wrong. People didn’t like me because I was poor and ugly. Girls avoided me and boys bullied me. I wanted to make them sorry, so I studied harder out of spite. Then I passed the civil service examination and gained some measure of respect from others.”
But his life had not turned out as he’d imagined as a young boy.
“I hated people who mocked me for my looks, of course. And I despised the nobles that squeezed impoverished families like mine. I decided that I would try to change the system from within, so I became a government official. But I wasn’t treated much better than I’d been treated at the temple school. I’ve never been satisfied with my life, really.”
Sumio looked like she was about to ask a question.
Tawara no Jō gave her a peevish look. “Is that what you thought I’d say?” he asked. “You’re wrong about me. I didn’t join the Imperial Court to change things. I did it so I’d have a more comfortable life than my parents. My motives are selfish. I could never be a tenant farmer; I’m too weak and small for that kind of work. Being surrounded by books suits me.”
Nothing else he’d said was a lie. Women didn’t like him, men bullied him, and his parents had sent him to a temple school. But he had no burning desire to change the status quo.
“Everyone suffers hardships,” Tawara no Jō said. “Will you blame all suffering on the imperial government? I have risen as high as I need to in Yamauchi. I am not angry enough at the current system to push to change it.”
“Oh.” Sumio pursed her lips in dissatisfaction. “I cannot blame a person for doing nothing when they are ignorant of how bad a situation is, but I think that knowledge confers some level of personal responsibility. I believe that the worst people know how terrible things are and pretend that they don’t. Are you that kind of person, Tawara no Jō?”
He gave her a sardonic smile. “Don’t pin that on me unless you plan to lump yourself in with the worst people. I care more about my next meal than I do for your intangible ethics and morals.”
“But if conditions in Yamauchi keep deteriorating, you won’t be able to buy your next meal, Tawara no Jō,” she said. “People suffer directly under your nose, and you pretend not to see them. Those people are going hungry now. This situation isn’t tenable. It will change for the worse, sooner rather than later.”
“It won’t come to that, Sumio.” Tawara no Jō felt exhausted. He understood Sumio’s reasoning. She thought that starving people would revolt and overthrow the current regime. Tawara no Jō knew better. The Yellow Raven had thoroughly subjugated anyone who had openly opposed him for more than a decade. He turned enemies into horses—his own labor force—and treated his allies with special care.
The Yellow Raven was too competent and too entrenched to be overthrown. His methods were rubbish, but that didn’t matter. They were effective.
Even if Sumio was right and commoners started a revolt, the Yellow Raven knew how to quell unrest before it spread. Everyone knew that the consequence for defying the Yellow Raven was death or slavery. The only way to avoid such fates was to obey him.
Sumio’s ideal democracy would never come to pass. Yamauchi was already struggling too much to ever recover. Its people had no energy to fight for a better world.
“You are indulging in the idea of a revolt like an armchair general playing a strategy game,” Tawara no Jō said. “I do not say this to mock you, but you are a spoiled and sheltered noblewoman. I believe you are sincere in your convictions, but your convictions will change nothing. Face facts. People suffer. Our economy is shrinking. Do you think letting the poor and desperate govern Yamauchi will fix anything? At best, the current inequality will reverse. Commoners would seize everything and leave nobles with nothing. There would still be suffering and inequality, but commoners would also be fighting other commoners for more wealth. Would that be a better world?”
Tawara no Jō shook his head. “Yes, Yamauchi has problems. But smashing the current system to pieces will only exacerbate those problems. You can’t just slaughter all the corrupt nobles and expect that to fix things. Killing the corrupt would become a violent scourge and lead to lawlessness in the end. That is not better than peace, no matter how fragile that peace happens to be.
“We live in difficult times, and difficult times require firm guidance. The Yellow Raven rewards people who are competent and loyal. He desires peace. He does not act for the sake of personal gain. You lack the charisma, the wisdom, and the manpower to turn Yamauchi against him.”
“You think that he is selfless?” Sumio asked. She was about to argue more when Tawara no Jō laughed at her.
“Even if he were the most selfish man in all Yamauchi, you are not placed to oppose him. He is a war hero, a priest of the mountain god, and a respected government figure. And what are you? A sheltered child who has never seen a battle. And you have the nerve to complain about his policies? The Yellow Raven is better than you in every way that matters.”
“Maybe,” Sumio said, “but ‘better’ does not mean ‘good enough.’ Does the current status of Yamauchi really satisfy you, Tawara no Jō? I know I have not persuaded you. My arguments are lacking; I accept that. But I believe that those who turn a blind eye to injustice will be killed by it one day. I believe that all actions have consequences.”
Tawara no Jō and Sumio looked at each other.
“What if the Yellow Raven decides that you’re useless and discards you, as he has so many others?” Sumio asked. “You have no control over that decision.”
Tawara no Jō scoffed. “If I am useful, I will not be discarded. I am useful now. I can learn to be useful in other ways. I’m not concerned for my own safety.”
He looked down at an unshelved glitter print. “I received a curious message from the owner of Treasures bookstore,” Tawara no Jō said. “You’ve been meeting the print makers and publishers behind my back.”
Sumio didn’t react.
Tawara no Jō knew that she had intended to use him from the start. Now that he’d caught a glimpse of her true intentions, he wanted to know what she intended to use him for.
“What are you planning to do?” he asked.
“I will do what I can,” Sumio said solemnly.
***
That day, the officials arriving for duty at the Grand Gate were startled to find Lord Haruma standing before the gate flanked by two subordinates and surrounded by at least ten soldiers from the Aerial Army of Heaven.
Officials emerged from their flying carriages and took in the strange scene.
“Has something happened?” a nobleman asked.
Lord Haruma gave him an affable smile and a slight bow. “I apologize for causing a disturbance. I am waiting for someone. I would like to ask them a few questions.”
Several onlookers were eavesdropping on this conversation. Lord Haruma wasn’t a high-ranked noble, but the Yellow Raven trusted him. He had the power to audit or arrest anyone he pleased.
Lord Haruma’s presence at the Grand Gate could only mean one thing: a noble was about to be arrested.
Noblemen clustered together and exchanged whispers.
“What could he have done?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Has everyone arrived? Who is he waiting for?”
Middle- and low-ranked officials who should have started their tasks for the day lingered at the Grand Gate to see what would happen. Lord Haruma didn’t reproach them. He stood before the gate like he was happy to be there.
Before long, a flying carriage arrived, gleaming brilliantly in the morning sun. That flamboyant vehicle belonged to the Akihiko, the Lord of Saike.
Several onlookers whispered, “Surely it can’t be him.”
The moment the carriage landed in the stone-paved square, Lord Haruma and his escort walked toward it.
The carriage gradually came to a stop.
The driver, guards who had ridden alongside the carriage on horseback, and the Lord of Saike’s attendants all appeared puzzled.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Lord of Saike asked from inside the carriage. He looked Lord Haruma in the eye. “Ah, I see. Greetings, Lord Haruma. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Lord Haruma grinned. “Good morning to you, Lord of Saike.”
“I thought I’d go riding today, but it looks like that’s impossible,” the Lord of Saike said. “Has something happened? Is everything all right?”
“I shall explain,” Lord Haruma said. “Please come out of the carriage.”
Prompted politely, an attendant prepared the Lord of Saike’s footstool with an anxious expression and unlocked the carriage door.
Lord Haruma gave the Lord of Saike a florid bow. “I am sorry to have caused a disturbance,” Lord Haruma said. “I have orders from the Yellow Raven.”
“Has the Yellow Raven summoned me?”
“No.” Lord Haruma’s eyes narrowed. “The Yellow Raven wishes to see that person, there.” He nodded toward Sumio, who was seated in the carriage.
Sumio was completely calm.
“Oh, my. Do you have some business with me?” she asked.
“I have heard rumors of something you are making,” Lord Haruma said pleasantly. “I would like to see it for myself. Please come with me.”
“Very well.”
Aerial Army of Heaven soldiers surrounded Sumio when she left the carriage. She was being treated like a dangerous criminal.
“Sumio, what in the world is happening?” the Lord of Saike asked.
“It’s all right,” Sumio said. “There’s no need to be concerned, Uncle Akihiko. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
She gave Haruma a provocative smile. “Shall we go, Lord Haruma?”
***
Rumors of Sumio’s arrest traveled through the Imperial Court like wildfire. In less than half a day, everyone had heard the news.
Sumio had attempted to create an unauthorized glitter print. All printed matter required the Imperial Court’s approval to be distributed, so this was a serious crime. The glitter print she was making contained overt criticism of the Imperial Court, so it would never have been published through normal channels.
An official in the Imperial Scriptorium had discovered the glitter print and reported it to the authorities before it could be distributed. After confirming the glitter print’s existence, Haruma had detained Sumio and arrested her.
“You were the one who reported her, weren’t you, Tawara no Jō?” one of his colleagues asked late on the day of Sumio’s arrest.
Tawara no Jō had been fielding such questions since the afternoon, so he was tired of them. “I didn’t intend to,” he muttered.
The owner of Treasures bookstore had reached out to Tawara no Jō about the print before he’d published it. If he hadn’t done that, it was likely that he would be punished along with Sumio.
Tawara no Jō had reported the unauthorized glitter print. He had suspected that Sumio was wholly responsible for it, but he hadn’t been completely sure when he filed the report. Artists were always trying to get around the rules.
“If I hadn’t, she would have caused more trouble,” Tawara no Jō said to his colleagues. “And I refuse to be dragged down with her,” he muttered quietly.
***
“Sumio has been arrested!”
Nagihiko gasped when he heard the news, which was delivered to him by Yoshimichi first thing in the morning. “No! Why would she try to create an unauthorized glitter print? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Yoshimichi didn’t say, “I told you so,” but his face was smug. His expression sobered, and then he said, “The contents of the glitter print were critical of the government, Your Imperial Majesty.”
That was less surprising than the fact of her arrest. Nagihiko had witnessed Sumio arguing with the Yellow Raven. He knew that she disagreed with the Yellow Raven on many things.
But if the glitter print criticized the government in general, then she hadn’t just targeted the Yellow Raven. She had created a piece of art that criticized Nagihiko, too.
He had tried so hard to be good emperor for Yamauchi. He had invited Sumio into his confidence and listened to her opinions and advice. Why hadn’t she consulted him before breaking the law like this? Why didn’t she trust him? He was so disappointed in her.
“I want to speak with Sumio.”
“That cannot be permitted, Your Imperial Majesty. She is currently the subject of a criminal investigation. If the unauthorized print was created to foment rebellion, Sumio will be punished quite severely. It is not appropriate for you to see her at this time. Reports are being compiled for your perusal. I shall inform you of the outcome of the investigation when it is complete.”
Nagihiko frowned. “Why not tell me now? Don’t I have any say in this investigation?”
“You are biased in the rakujō’s favor, Your Imperial Majesty. She has committed a grave crime and should be judged fairly.”
“What is the punishment for producing unauthorized prints?”
Yoshimichi hesitated.
“Speak plainly,” Nagihiko commanded.
“The investigation is ongoing,” Yoshimichi said, “so I cannot say for certain. I believe her punishment will be more severe than usual because she is a government official.”
“Will she be dismissed from office?” Nagihiko asked. That would be such a waste. Sumio had worked so hard to become a government official.
Yoshimichi’s expression darkened. “No, no. I would expect the punishment to be worse than that, Your Imperial Majesty. I know of a case where a commoner who created rebellious graffiti had his third leg cut off. That would be the worst case, though.”
Nagihiko was aghast. “Excommunication?” he asked. He felt like he was losing sensation in his legs. He staggered, and Yoshimichi caught him before he fell.
“It may not come to that,” Yoshimichi said. “The main issue is that all of this is so public. If it had remained quiet, we would have more options. Unfortunately, Sumio’s arrest and the reasons for it are already well known in the Imperial Court.
Sumio was such a strange woman. Sometimes her severity intimidated Nagihiko. He felt like she’d betrayed him somehow, but he couldn’t believe that she would make an unauthorized glitter print for selfish or stupid reasons. She had done this on purpose, but why?
Nagihiko might never know if Sumio was excommunicated.
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.
Sumio had told him that. He finally understood what she had meant.
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