Yatagarasu Series
Volume 3:
The Golden Raven
Author: Chisato Abe
Part 6: Ghost Lights
The sound of the rain was a heavy, oppressive thing in the gathering darkness. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Drenched guards and soldiers stood in the garden, illuminated by flashes of lightning.
The unconscious Crown Prince received emergency medical treatment at the inn and was transported to the Lord of Hokke’s estate by air afterward. The Lord of Hokke’s family and retainers were shocked to see the Crown Prince in such a state and summoned their most trusted physician. People came and went from the room where the Crown Prince was convalescing, most of them in a frantic rush.
Yukiya watched everything, numb. He sat in the same room as the Crown Prince and waited.
The Crown Prince’s face was so pale that it looked like a porcelain doll’s. Only the vivid red color of the blood seeping through his bandages and the slight rise and fall of his chest proved that he still lived.
Shouts echoed through the air as the physician and his assistants rushed about, desperately working to treat the Crown Prince’s injury.
Yukiya had the presence of mind to stay out of their way, but he had no idea what he should be doing now.
He stepped out onto the wet veranda, careful not to block the path of those coming and going. He sat at the veranda’s edge, hugging his knees. It was a cool evening made chillier by the rain, but Yukiya didn’t feel cold at all.
The rain wasn’t just a passing shower. It had begun falling at dusk. It was full night now, and the earlier drizzle had become a downpour. Several horses flew overhead and landed in the garden.
At first, Yukiya couldn’t see who the newcomers were through the pouring rain.
A few moments later, Hamayū and Natsuka rushed past Yukiya like he wasn’t even there.
“Princess Hamayū,” Yukiya said, sketching a hasty bow toward her that she ignored. Natsuka was already inside.
Yukiya heard raised voices, but he couldn’t make out the words. After awhile, Natsuka returned to the veranda with his head hanging low. He sat next to Yukiya.
Sumio noticed Natsuka and came running. He fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. “It’s my fault,” he said. “All my fault. I’m so, so sorry.”
Natsuka looked like he was staring at the end of the world. “It doesn’t matter,” he said gently. “It’s too late. If he dies… it’s all over. For all of us.” He covered his face with his hands.
Hatsune and her new husband were in custody. Koume was safe. If only Sumio had arrived one minute sooner, everything would be fine.
Hamayū stepped outside, taking in the scene before her.
Yukiya didn’t know what to say to her.
She walked out onto the veranda, barefoot in the rain. Then she knelt down to Sumio, hauled him to his feet and struck him hard across the face.
Splattering muddy water, Sumio fell clumsily to the ground.
Hamayū didn’t look angry. “You left the side of the lord you have sworn to protect,” she said, her voice calm and even. “That’s your punishment.” She remained thoroughly composed.
“Princess.” Sumio bowed again.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Hamayū said. “I can only guess at your thoughts right now.”
She looked from Sumio, who was still on the ground, to Natsuka. She snorted. “What’s with that face? You’re not the one on your deathbed, you know. A mountain of things need to be done, and here you sit, moping. Wearing long faces won’t make your brother get better any faster.” She lightly tapped Natsuka’s cheeks. “His fate is not in our hands. If you have time to despair, you have time to work.”
Hamayū’s matter-of-fact attitude left Natsuka silent for a moment. Then he nodded. “You’re right. Nazukihiko—he’d say the same thing.” He raised his head, his eyes calm and clear. He asked them to report any changes in his brother’s condition immediately and then headed toward the cells where Hatsune and her husband were being held.
Sumio staggered to his feet and patrolled the surrounding area.
Yukiya watched Sumio’s back as he left. He wanted to tell Sumio that none of this was his fault, but the words stuck in his throat.
Yes, Sumio had arrived too late to save the Crown Prince from being stabbed, but Yukiya had actually been there—and he’d done nothing. Worse than nothing; he’d needed rescuing himself.
The Crown Prince’s terrible injury was a result of Yukiya’s failure.
“It’s my fault he got stabbed,” Yukiya confessed to Hamayū. “I misjudged the situation. I’ve seen him fight, and I didn’t think he’d struggle to defeat one man.”
But the Crown Prince hadn’t killed the man, even though he easily could have. He’d let go of Hatsune, the man had dropped his knife and Hatsune had grabbed it. It had all happened so fast.
“Sumio may bear some responsibility, but I am the one who caused it to happen.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hamayū said, still calm. “I’ve already heard what happened. If the Crown Prince had killed that man, he would be fine now. I understand that. You weren’t wrong—he can fight. But there’s something he’s kept from you. Something about the nature of true Golden Ravens and their capabilities.”
“What is it?” Yukiya asked.
Hamayū looked him straight in the eyes. “The Golden Raven cannot kill Yatagarasu. Any Yatagarasu. Not even one.”
Yukiya stared blankly back at Hamayū.
“He can’t kill anyone,” Hamayū said patiently. “Not Yatagarasu. Monsters, yes, but not the people he’s sworn to protect. Even if a Yatagarasu tries to kill him, he can’t cause them any serious harm. That’s not just who Nazukihiko is. That comes from what he is.”
“I don’t understand,” Yukiya said, because that was honest.
“If you want to know more, you’ll have to hear it from him,” Hamayū said. “But don’t worry. He’s not so easy to kill. He’ll come back to us soon and act like nothing happened. As usual.” She looked behind them at the building where the Crown Prince lay, still unconscious. Her words were hopeful, but Yukiya could tell that she’d steeled herself for the worst possible news.
***
Hatsune was being held in a cell attached to the Lord of Hokke’s estate. The cell had originally been an administrative office but was converted into a cell for holding prisoners after more government facilities were built. Hatsune would be formally interrogated by the Imperial Court, but they had to arrange for her safe transfer to Souke Territory first. In the meantime, a Souke Territory official began her interrogation.
Natsuka found the Souke Territory official speaking with Hatsune when he entered the makeshift jail. She wasn’t agitated, nor did she make excuses for herself. She answered all the questions put to her simply and factually. It was impossible to determine her true feelings.
As expected, Hatsune blamed the Kuisaru attacks on Jihei. She said that the first attack was in Sazaki, an out-of-the-way settlement in Shimaki Province.
Jihei had felt guilty for causing his daughter hardship. He’d accepted his ex-wife’s help to make money because he was so desperate to spare Koume pain. He knew that Koume would never forgive Hatsune for what she’d done, so he’d kept Hatsune’s involvement a secret.
The voice from the well had told him that he would only be delivering a package to Sazaki. When he learned of the attack on the household, he’d been horrified. The voice from the well had silenced his complaints by telling him to consider his daughter’s needs.
Around that time, Jihei was put in charge of managing the well and Hatsune moved to Shimobara with her new husband. She’d been careless while trading sagecap to draw attention to her husband and his activities. She’d tried to set him up to take the fall for everything.
Jihei had lacked determination and intelligence. He’d always done exactly as Hatsune told him. He would try to protect her without being forced to do it—force wasn’t needed to ensure his compliance. Hatsune reasoned that he wouldn’t mind getting caught if it meant he was protecting her again.
Before the Imperial Court could take Jihei into custody—which was her plan—the Underground had pounced on him.
Jihei had left the well after what had happened in Sugō. He’d planned to leave Souke Territory and take Koume with him. From then on, events had unfolded exactly as Jihei had written in his letter. After Koume was taken away from Sugō, he’d gone to Hatsune for help. She’d sheltered Jihei in Shimobara for a while, waiting for the right moment to hand him over to the authorities.
During this time, rumors spread that Koume would be handed over to the Underground.
“I didn’t force him to write that letter, you know,” Hatsune said. “He wrote all of that himself. He was a complete fool.” She laughed sadly. Her unkempt hair straggled over her shoulders. “Koume misunderstood a few things, I think.”
“Like what?” the interrogator prompted.
“She said that Jihei tried to protect me because he still loved me. That’s not true. He hid my involvement in this from her so that she wouldn’t learn that I was such a terrible person.”
It was widely known that Jihei was involved with the Kuisaru. How did Koume feel knowing that her mother had been involved the whole time—and that her role was so much worse?
“Jihei loved Koume, not me,” Hatsune said with a scornful laugh. “I envied that. When I was thirteen, my father sold me off to street thugs to pay his debts. I cried and I struggled, and do you know what he said to me? He said it was my fault for not being able to fight them off.” She gave the interrogator a pained smile. “Some people should never be parents.”
Hatsune’s mother had died when she was very young; she had no memories of her at all. She wasn’t sure if the man who’d sold her was her actual father. He’d sold her to those men as his daughter and he’d felt no remorse.
“Over and over again, I was forced to sell my body to strangers just to pay for his drinking. I tried to run away a few times, but no matter how far I went, he would always come after me. I tried to live a decent life, but he wouldn’t let me. When he finally died, I was so relieved.”
Hatsune had left her falling-down-drunk father out in the snow to die of exposure.
“The next morning, when he didn’t wake up, I finally felt like I was free.”
After that, she’d worked a few jobs—honest, respectable work. She’d married Jihei, who’d been a prosperous water seller at the time.
“Koume thinks I’m only interested in money, but that’s not true, either,” Hatsune said. She was grateful to be a respectable wife and tried to cherish the family she’d finally made for herself.
However, after her daughter was born, her husband had loved Koume more than her. Perhaps that was only natural for a normal parent, but Hatsune could never accept that.
Hatsune had never wanted to be a rich man’s wife. That wouldn’t be enough for her. What she wanted was to marry a man who would love her above all else. Her daughter had taken that away from her.
“She said she never thought of me as her mother. Honestly, I never thought of her as my daughter, either. She was like a reflection of myself—a lucky, fortunate version of me who might have found happiness without needing to suffer for it first. But she complained all the time, about every little thing! She was so spoiled. Sometimes I hated her so much that I wanted to strangle her.”
She said that abandoning Koume was an act of love.
“I have no memory of ever being loved by anyone. Even if I wanted to love her in a normal way, I don’t know how to do it.”
And when her husband’s affection had shifted from Hatsune to their daughter, Hatsune had felt betrayed.
“What would you have done if you had a child with your new husband, and he ended up loving the child more than you?” the interrogator asked.
“If that happened… I would just leave. There’s no point in being with someone who doesn’t put me first.”
Hatsune appeared terribly lonely and empty. “I know what you all want to say to me. You think I’m just like my father and I never should have become a parent.”
If her father had ever been kind to her—even once—would she have been able to love her daughter as she should have? If her husband had loved her more than their daughter, would she have been able to act like most mothers would?
No matter how much she thought about it, Hatsune couldn’t find the way out of the maze of problems she’d created for herself. She was explaining her reasoning and expected to be condemned for it. Her dead ex-husband and her daughter would be pitied. No matter how tragic Hatsune’s upbringing had been, it didn’t excuse her selling out her entire species to monsters. She understood that well enough.
“There was no other way to get what I wanted,” Hatsune said. “I wanted to keep my comfortable lifestyle with my new husband no matter what. I only did what was necessary for that.”
Hatsune had no remorse for anything she’d done.
Natsuka listened, silent, until she finished speaking. Then he asked, “So you’re not sorry? Not even a little? Not for anything at all?”
The interrogator had invited Natsuka to sit when he’d entered, but Natsuka had remained standing for Hatsune’s entire confession. He was by the wall, as far away as he could get from Hatsune while remaining in the same room.
“Why would I be?” Hatsune asked the imperious man with the burning eyes and the stern expression. “If I were sorry, I wouldn’t have done it, would I? I know exactly what I did and why.” Her voice was as clear as a bell. Her eyes narrowed like a cat’s. They were like her daughter’s, slightly turned up at the corners.
Hatsune smiled at Natsuka. “Now I’ll ask you a question. Why should I be sorry? No one ever helped or pitied me when I needed it. You people have no right to call me a traitor or to insult me. I don’t owe any of you an explanation. I owe you exactly nothing. If I’d died in poverty, you might have called me pitiful while mocking me on the inside, thinking I deserved my fate. I’m sure you’ll try me as a traitor and execute me now, right? All because I didn’t live my life the way you wanted me to?” Her smile was fixed in place. “That’s fine, though. I forgive you.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “If I were like you, I’m sure I’d think the same way you do about me.”
***
Natsuka left the rest of the questioning to the interrogator. He exited the cell.
The air, cooled by rain, slipped quietly into his muscles, easing the tension in his chest and shoulders. He found Rokon waiting for him in the hallway outside along with another Yamauchishu who was guarding the door.
“I thank you for being steadfast in your duties,” Natsuka said to the Yamauchishu.
The guard and Rokon had probably heard Hatsune’s voice through the door.
Rokon greeted Natsuka casually, as usual. Natsuka found that casualness irritating today. He glanced at the door behind him.
“It’s no use. I can’t understand her at all.” Hatsune made sense to herself, but she would never make sense to Natsuka. “There are plenty of Yatagarasu who grow up poor or who experience terrible things in their lives, and they don’t wind up like her. Why does she think her misfortune is an excuse for the terrible things she’s done? If everyone in the same situation harbored such resentment, I’d have to kill every poor mountain raven with my own hands.”
Natsuka couldn’t forgive Hatsune for selling so many Yatagarasu to the Kuisaru—as food. She’d even tried to murder the true Golden Raven, his brother. The ones who deserved the most pity here were the unfortunate victims of the Kuisaru and Nazukihiko. Natsuka didn’t pity Hatsune at all.
“You’re not wrong,” Rokon said. “Everything you just said is true.”
“Of course it is,” Natsuka said. “I wasn’t asking you to agree with me.” He thought over what he’d said in his mind, looking for some crack or fault in his reasoning that would allow him to understand Hatsune’s perspective. “You don’t have to look so smug.”
Rokon’s expression didn’t shift an inch.
Natsuka felt horrible. He understood that he didn’t need to pity Hatsune. She was a criminal and a murderer; she deserved nothing but his hatred and revulsion. She would be executed, probably in the cruelest manner available. That was just and right. It was all her own fault.
Natsuka wanted to pity Hatsune because she was a Yatagarasu. It was what his brother would have done. But he couldn’t do it.
He clicked his tongue in irritation—an uncharacteristic gesture for him. Then he turned his back on the cell and took Rokon with him. He needed to make preparations to move Hatsune and her husband to Souke Territory.
***
That night was the longest one of Yukiya’s life.
Around midnight, the physician bowed his head to Hamayū, who sat quietly in the hall outside the Crown Prince’s room. There was nothing more to be done. The Crown Prince would wake up on his own, or he wouldn’t.
Hamayū nodded at the physician. “Thank you for your efforts.”
Yukiya peered through the open door. The Crown Prince lay on a clean futon. Hamayū took a seat by his pillow.
Yukiya didn’t want to watch what happened next. He pulled himself away from the doorway. Even if he didn’t look, there was no escape from what was happening. He leaned against the wall of the hallway and waited for the Crown Prince to awaken.
Or not.
Sumio was as restless as Yukiya. He’d devoted himself entirely to the task of standing guard in front of the Crown Prince’s room. Too little, too late.
The rain lessened and eventually stopped as the night drew on. Yukiya saw a pale, muddy glow on the horizon through the windows.
Then there was noise—a shout.
Could it be—? He sprang to his feet just as the sliding door of the Crown Prince’s room burst open.
“His Imperial Highness is awake!” one of the assistant physicians called out breathlessly.
Yukiya heard the cheers all around him before he realized that he was cheering himself.
The Crown Prince was still dazed from blood loss, but he was conscious. The physician proclaimed that his life was no longer in danger.
Ladies-in-waiting quickly sprang into action. Servants of the Lord of Hokke dashed off in all directions to spread the good news, soaring into the clear sky.
Sumio dashed into the room.
Yukiya felt all his strength leave him and slid down to lean against the wall.
God, he thought. He’d never prayed in his life before, but he was going to do it now. He wasn’t always sure he believed in the mountain god, but that didn’t matter right now.
Thank you, he thought, bowing his head. From the bottom of my heart, you have my thanks.
***
After the Crown Prince regained consciousness, Hamayū delegated all troublesome political matters—absolutely everything—to Natsuka and Masuho no Susuki. She was careful not to trouble the Crown Prince with anything at all. He hadn’t fully recovered yet and was confined to his bed.
Hamayū issued commands and kept things running behind the scenes while the Crown Prince rested and recovered. This level of diligence was unusual coming from her. Yukiya had never expected her to act like this.
Two days after the Crown Prince awoke, Yukiya was summoned. He was told that the Crown Prince had important matters to discuss with him.
Yukiya hadn’t spent any time with the Crown Prince over the past two days. He’d spent his time lingering outside the door of rooms that the Crown Prince was in, doing nothing in particular. Waiting.
Hamayū hadn’t scolded Yukiya even though she’d reprimanded Natsuka for doing much the same thing. When Yukiya came in response to his summons, she left the room with a knowing look.
The Crown Prince had moved from the chamber where his injuries had been treated to a proper guest room. There was no one else present when Yukiya entered, not even Sumio.
Avoiding direct eye contact, Yukiya sat formally on the floor. He looked over at a vase of bell flowers arranged in a little alcove on the side of the room.
“I’m sorry I troubled you so much,” the Crown Prince said. He sounded like his usual self, but he was still ghastly pale. He was sitting up in bed.
“You should lie down,” Yukiya said.
“Should I? Then I will.” He lay flat on his back without needing assistance. He wasn’t back to full strength, but he could move under his own power. “Did Hamayū tell you everything?”
Yukiya nodded. “She told me you can’t kill Yatagarasu.”
“That’s correct. I should have told you before. By keeping silent, I caused you to blame yourself.” He squirmed a little, getting comfortable. “But I couldn’t tell you before. I can only tell people who are absolutely loyal to me. I’m sure you understand the reason why.”
Yukiya nodded.
“This is what I wanted to talk to you about,” the Crown Prince said. “You need to understand what a true Golden Raven really is.”
Yukiya looked up at him.
“Natsuka calls me the savior of Yamauchi,” the Crown Prince said quietly.
Yukiya blinked.
“Well, not just Natsuka. I suppose that’s the story that the imperial family tells. And it’s not all lies, that story. True Golden Ravens aren’t born in every generation. They’re only born in times of trouble. A true Golden Raven born in a time of drought will have the power to create rain. A true Golden Raven born in a time of flood might have the power to control water more generally. A true Golden Raven born into a pandemic would have the power to cure disease. In the Imperial Court, there’s a superstition that the birth of a true Golden Raven is a harbinger of disaster. You know that much, right?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s more like the other way around,” the Crown Prince said. “True Golden Ravens don’t cause disaster. They’re born specifically because it’s coming. They’re always born with the power they need to save the Yatagarasu from whatever disaster occurs. It is likely that the Souke bloodline carries some genetic marker or other that causes them to produce true Golden Ravens to deal with these disasters. From my perspective, the factors that create a true Golden Raven are shaped by Yamauchi’s dire need. You could say that a true Golden Raven is the concentrated will to preserve the Yatagarasu at a species level.”
The natural order was for the true Golden Raven to defend Yatagarasu from external threats while the Yatagarasu protected him from themselves. The imperial family had never been given a mandate to rule Yamauchi. The original reason for their existence was to protect the true Golden Raven at all costs.
Natsuka had been educated about Yamauchi’s history and understood the significance of a true Golden Raven. Even if he’d ignored his brother’s claim to the throne and seized power for himself, that decision would backfire on him eventually. He was just an ordinary Yatagarasu. He didn’t have special powers to help mitigate any disaster that would befall the country.
There was one more thing that Natsuka had known from the moment his brother was declared a true Golden Raven: an era of strife and trouble was ahead of them all. Yamauchi would not know peace. Not easily.
“To be honest, I don’t understand exactly how or why I was born,” the Crown Prince said. “But I am convinced that The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions described true Golden Ravens correctly.”
The Golden Raven is the progenitor of all Yatagarasu, both their mother and their father.
At all times and in all ways, the Golden Raven must stand before their children with compassion and love.
No matter what difficulties arise, the Golden Raven must protect the Yatagarasu, teach them and guide them.
The Golden Raven leads all Yatagarasu, and they follow.
“So this is something you were born as, not something you became over time,” Yukiya said sadly. “You didn’t choose it.”
This was a radical shift in Yukiya’s thinking. He’d started off believing that there was no such thing as a true Golden Raven. Then he’d started to believe that the Crown Prince was one, somehow, but without understanding of how that was possible. Now he understood things better. He’d been convinced for a long time that the Crown Prince had clung to his identity as a true Golden Raven for the sake of power, but that wasn’t the case at all.
Thinking back, he realized he had said some rather harsh things to the Crown Prince.
Yukiya’s lips trembled.
The Crown Prince frowned. “You don’t need to be so upset,” he said. “You made some assumptions based on information you didn’t have. I bear you no ill will. You should also know that I don’t really have feelings.”
He said this so matter-of-factly. Yukiya just stared at him.
“What do you mean by that?” Yukiya asked.
The Crown Prince tilted his head. “There’s a price for having special powers. I can’t ever use them selfishly, and so I have no selfish, individualized desires. If I did, I wouldn’t be fit to govern the Yatagarasu. What makes a true Golden Raven is not the ability to mend tears in the fabric of reality or the ability to transform at night. It is the unshakable conviction to always put the people of Yamauchi first.” He paused, remembering something.
“When I was very young, I overheard a mother telling her child, ‘Don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want done to yourself,’ and I was at a complete loss.” He grinned wryly. “Up until that point, I had never been bothered by anything that anyone had done to me. I can imagine how others feel based on experience and what they’ve told me, but I can’t really empathize with people because the way I experience emotions isn’t the same.”
The Crown Prince appeared troubled. “I’m sure I’ve caused you to be uncomfortable or irritated at some point without even realizing it. I’m sorry.”
Yukiya was going to cry. He didn’t want to, but it was going to happen if the Crown Prince kept apologizing like that. Like he had something to apologize for.
“Stop that,” Yukiya said. “You don’t have to say sorry to me. Not for anything. Don’t be ridiculous.”
The Crown Prince shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to be, but now you understand why I’m… different. The strange way I experience emotions is also what makes it impossible for me to kill Yatagarasu.”
No parent would kill their own child. So much was stated in The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions. The true Golden Raven could not kill a Yatagarasu, not even in self-defense. If someone wanted to kill him, they wouldn’t need any complicated schemes or political intrigue. No one would even need to threaten him. If a Yatagarasu were taken hostage, the Crown Prince would have no choice but to try and save them by any means necessary. He could die so, so easily.
The true Golden Raven should be protected by the Yatagarasu. He was defenseless against them. He had a sense for danger in Yamauchi that was like divination or prescience, but he was extremely weak to attacks from other Yatagarasu.
That explained why Natsuka and Sumio were always so overprotective and concerned about his safety.
“Are you saying that you have no emotions at all? That no matter what happens to you, you feel nothing?”
The Crown Prince was about to answer “Yes,” but then he hesitated. “No… Actually, I’m not sure. Even if I do have personal feelings, I have no way of interpreting them. If my personal feelings went against what I should feel as a true Golden Raven, I doubt I would recognize them or sense them in any way. My sense of self is—limited. Like a piece of wet paper that dissolves on contact with the identity of the true Golden Raven. My will cannot go against the purpose for which I was born. I can’t even have my own feelings about it.”
“So you have feelings, but the true Golden Raven overwrites them somehow?”
“Something like that,” the Crown Prince said. “Every true Golden Raven is the same in that regard. It can’t be changed.”
“It can’t be changed? Why?”
“Because I’m a true Golden Raven.” His eyes were as clear and cold as glass beads. “It can’t be changed,” he repeated.
Yukiya bowed and then left the Crown Prince’s room. He staggered down the hallway. His head hurt horribly. There was a knot of compressed air in his stomach that made him feel like throwing up.
“It can’t be changed” was burned into his memory.
People had often called the Crown Prince insensitive or cold. Yukiya didn’t think that the Crown Prince had no emotions, but that being the Golden Raven suppressed many of the personal feelings that he had. Living that way must be painful. There was no one who could really understand what he thought or felt.
“You’re upset,” Hamayū said. “That makes sense. You should be.”
Yukiya jumped, startled.
Hamayū stood behind him, illuminated by a standing lamp. She wore a light indigo kimono patterned with blue waves and a red-lined silk jacket. Her presence here was strange. It was like she’d appeared out of thin air.
Yukiya remembered that she’d left the Crown Prince’s room when Yukiya entered. She’d probably been waiting for him in the hall. He felt like she’d read his mind somehow.
“You’re easy to read,” Hamayū said. “Right now you look astonished. Like you can’t believe what you just heard.”
Instinctively, Yukiya touched his own cheek.
Hamayū laughed.
“Princess Hamayū, what do you think about the Crown Prince?” Yukiya asked, ignoring her laughter.
Hamayū shifted her gaze to the beautiful garden. “A broad question. I assume we are speaking of his emotional capacity. I certainly don’t believe that he has no feelings at all. You must think similarly to me, which is why your face looks like that. You don’t believe that he’s emotionless or subsumed to the true Golden Raven’s will, do you?” Her eyes sparkled. She gave him a teasing smile.
Yukiya felt the heavy weight on his chest lift away. He breathed more easily. It was a clear night, but the air carried the scent of recent rain. He heard the frogs croaking in the garden and had a rare moment of peace. He hadn’t noticed anything about the garden or heard any of the usual night sounds before; he’d been too wrapped up in his dark thoughts.
“You think he feels,” Yukiya said.
“I know he does. Nazukihiko the person, I mean, not the true Golden Raven. I’m sure of that. But he’s not entirely wrong about himself. He has trouble processing and interpreting his own emotions.” She sighed. “I feel sorry for him sometimes. We all have people we like and dislike for various reasons, but he isn’t like that at all. He looks on every Yatagarasu with equal favor, because he must. That can lead to all kinds of misunderstandings.”
When the Crown Prince had selected his bride in Sakura Palace, he’d repeated the same speech several times:
“I do not have any special feelings for you, nor am I in love with you. That will not change even if we marry. I have no intention of granting special treatment to your family because of you. In the future, if necessary, I will take as many concubines as I wish, and depending on the situation, I may even cast you aside.
“I will not allow you to complain, nor will I permit you to become intimately involved with any man other than myself. Suppress your own desires, and live solely for my sake. If you are prepared to accept all of this, I will take you as my wife. Choose for yourself.”
That was why Masuho no Susuki had become enraged and rejected his proposal. She’d complained about him afterwards, calling him cold and unfeeling.
But the Crown Prince could not have proposed in any other way. He was a true Golden Raven, and that meant he needed to love all of his people equally. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be fit to rule the Yatagarasu. He was capable of love, but not special love—not for one person alone. The idea that someone could be special and more important to him than someone else had never crossed his mind.
“The Crown Prince does care for us,” Hamayū said. “He cares for all Yatagarasu. That care, that devotion, doesn’t mean any less because it’s shared. He’s not capable of giving anyone special treatment. He would feel the same sorrow for someone who attempted to kill him as he would for you or me. It’s a troublesome way to live. That’s why I feel sorry for him at times.” Hamayū lowered her gaze. “The politicians in the Imperial Court don’t understand the true Golden Raven at all. They don’t know what it means to be one. If we explained it to them, they’d exploit the knowledge and kill him. It’s so frustrating.”
Yukiya understood why the Crown Prince had chosen Hamayū to be his wife. She knew his nature. She could comprehend him, feel for him, maybe even love him for exactly who he was.
Hamayū’s sharp gaze landed on Yukiya. “His feelings are real. Even if he doesn’t always understand them. Remember that.”
Yukiya straightened his posture and nodded. He’d remember.
***
“Yukiya, let’s go see the ghost lights.”
Yukiya awoke suddenly. He looked around for the voice—he could swear that he’d just heard the Crown Prince speak to him, but that should be impossible. The Crown Prince was resting. Yukiya had heard that he would be well enough to return to the capital in the morning.
The Crown Prince pulled Yukiya’s blanket off of him.
“Ghost lights?” Yukiya asked sleepily.
“You heard that they’ve been more visible lately, right? You can even see them from here. I just checked a few moments ago and I saw them. You need to see them, too.”
“But you’ve just recovered from your wound,” Yukiya said, tugging the blanket back over himself. “Should you really go out in the night air?”
“I’m fine now. Besides, I want you to see them.”
Yukiya knew that the Crown Prince didn’t issue orders for no reason. He saw Sumio waiting behind the Crown Prince. Sumio gave him a deep nod.
Yukiya shrugged and got up.
Accompanied by Sumio and some trusted members of the Yamauchishu, they headed to a mountain temple. This was not the same temple that the Crown Prince and Yukiya had gone to before. The last time the Crown Prince had visited this temple, he hadn’t had time to repair the tear there.
Yukiya was concerned about the Crown Prince’s health—he was doing a lot of walking.
The Crown Prince himself was as composed and unruffled as usual.
As they got closer to the tear, Yukiya started feeling lightheaded again, just like he’d felt the last time he’d approached one.
They left the forest and entered a mountain clearing that sloped upward into a tall cliff.
Yukiya gasped at what he saw beyond the cliff. He rushed to stand at the edge as the wind blew his hair into his eyes. There should have been nothing but the darkness of the night sky beyond the cliff so late at night… but there was something. Yukiya had never seen anything like it.
Yukiya saw a star that had fallen to the earth. Dazzling light spread out on the plan below him, shining brilliantly and chaotically. He saw lights of many colors—white, yellow, and red. And they were moving—but they clearly weren’t alive.
These lights weren’t ordinary fire or supernatural will-o’-the-wisps. They were beautiful and terrible. Yukiya was scared to look at them. The lights in the dark, at second glance, looked less like starlight and more like the glowing eyes of pests devouring crops in the fields.
The real stars in the sky were harder to see because of the countless scattered lights on the ground. The moon shone overhead, but its brightness was muted like the starlight.
“What is that?” Yukiya asked.
“It’s the nightscape of the human world. That is what ghost lights are,” the Crown Prince said. “If a tear in reality is left untended for too long, the ghost lights shine through. Look, Yukiya,” he said, pointing to the lights. “There are humans there, where the lights are shining. The humans use what we call ghost lights to illuminate their world. And those lights are getting closer to us every year.”
While investigating sagecap, the Crown Prince had learned that ghost lights were becoming brighter and more visible across all of Yamauchi. Additionally, there were many settlements near the edge of the mountains that were so isolated that no one ever really went to check on them. Those settlements were vanishing at an alarming rate. Not attacked—not wiped out. Just gone.
The Imperial Court judged this to be the result of neglected paperwork. They concluded that these settlements had simply faded away and disappeared because young people had left for the capital or other territories.
The Crown Prince believed that these settlements had most likely been swallowed up by the encroaching human world.
“There’s a barrier around Yamauchi that prevents people from entering or leaving the mountain range,” the Crown Prince said as he pointed to the mountains to the north. “I believe that the human world is swallowing up the barrier itself. Yamauchi is shrinking. That must be why I was born now. I have the power to repair the tears in reality. The Kuisaru’s invasion is a related complication. The protective magic around our land is weakening.”
Fortunately, they’d blocked off the route that the Kuisaru had been using, but that was a temporary solution to a much larger problem. If Yamauchi’s barriers failed, it would be easy for the Kuisaru to attack again.
When that time came, the Crown Prince would be there to defend Yatagarasu against the Kuisaru. He had to protect them all, even the Yatagarasu who had tried to kill him.
Yukiya gazed at the beautiful, maddening lights and said, “No matter what difficulties arise, the Golden Raven must protect the Yatagarasu, teach them and guide them.”
All of the Yatagarasu. Including everyone in Taruhi. Everyone Yukiya cared about.
Yukiya turned away from the lights.
The Crown Prince blinked a few times. “That’s what it means to be a good parent. It can’t be changed.”
Yukiya was quiet for awhile. He had a few decisions to make.
The Crown Prince stood with him on the cliff, watching the ghost lights. His bandages were faintly visible beneath a hastily tied pale purple kimono.
Yukiya made up his mind.
“Your Imperial Highness, I’m not suited for the Imperial Court. I could always use the Shadow Rank system to have a say in politics if I wish, but no one will respect me if I take power that way.”
“So?” the Crown Prince asked. “What will you do, then?”
“I will join the Yamauchishu.” Yukiya’s words were firm and decisive. “If I am to serve you, I need to be stronger. I never want to be a burden to you ever again.”
The Crown Prince smiled softly and tilted his head.
“If you want to become a Yamauchishu assigned to guard me through your own merit, you’ll have to be at the top your class at the Keisōin, or at least second best.”
The Keisōin was the military academy that trained the Yamauchishu. Boys from all over Yamauchi were sent there to undergo rigorous training. Only high achievers were allowed to serve as Yamauchishu.
“I’m aware of that,” Yukiya said.
“Are you confident?”
“Yes. I don’t start what I can’t finish.” Yukiya declared this with absolute certainty. He looked up at the Crown Prince, his strength of will making him stand taller and with more self-assurance.
“Prince Natsuka is right. Protecting you means protecting my home. What is precious to you is precious to me as well. I will devote everything I have to you so that we can protect Yamauchi.”
Yukiya knelt down and bowed deeply. “To His Imperial Majesty the Golden Raven, I make this humble vow. I, Yukiya of Taruhi, pledge my loyalty to you until my life ends, my body decays, and the very last piece of my soul disappears.”
The Crown Prince breathed out, a quiet sound that sounded louder than it was in the surrounding stillness. Then, with a casual gesture, he raised one hand.
The hand transformed into a wing.
The Crown Prince’s arm extended like a young tree growing straight and tall. Black feathers sprouted from his skin with a rustling sound. He spread his glossy black wing over Yukiya’s back.
“I might not be the best lord for you,” the Crown Prince said, “but I hope that you will become my trusted ally and a skilled swordsman who will fight Yamauchi’s enemies.” He paused. “Serving me is not easy. You know that already. You will experience more hardship and suffering. I may even need to cast you aside under dire circumstances. Do you still wish to make this vow?”
“Yes,” Yukiya said. “Allow me to serve you. I’ll start at the lowest rank and work my way up.”
The Crown Prince had been waiting to hear that for a very long time. He smiled at Yukiya, satisfied.
A hint of something else—loneliness, isolation—marred that smile, but Yukiya didn’t say a word about it.
***
The Imperial Court conducted a large-scale investigation, but no new passages connecting the Kuisaru world with Yamauchi were discovered. Many mysteries remained, but Yamauchi enjoyed a brief period of peace.
The following spring, Yukiya of Taruhi applied for admission to the Keisōin. There were more applicants than usual that year because of the threat of the Kuisaru, but Yukiya managed to pass the entrance examination with flying colors.
Three years later, the Yatagarasu would face off against the Kuisaru again.
Translator's Notes
Kanu is the furigana given here; the name means “peaceful or lenient raven.” It is unclear if this is an era name, a title, or the Emperor’s given name.
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