Yatagarasu Series
Volume 4:
The Raven of the Empty Coffin
Author: Chisato Abe
Part 1: Shigemaru
“Excuse me!” a high-pitched voice called out to me.
I took a look outside. A tiny shadow hovered just behind the open paper screen door, partially obscured by the sunlight at his back.
“Oh, hey, what brings you here?”
The boy looked to be about seven years old. I’d never seen him before. I wondered if he was lost. As I tried to approach him, the boy cast his eyes down and tightened his grip on the sleeve of his kimono.
“Well, um, I have a message for the provincial governor…”
“I serve the provincial governor. What do you need?”
My size often frightened little children, so standing up in front of him was out of the question. I quickly knelt down, crouching until I reached his eye level. The boy found his resolve and raised his head.
“You see, I have a package to deliver. But nobody is home right now, so… could I wait here?”
Huh, his parents had probably sent him here, then. He was a cute kid. He was being so careful about his errand.
“I don’t mind. You’re here to deliver a package, right? Where did you come from?” I asked.
The boy finally seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to eat him. His shoulders relaxed. “The country estate.”
“Oh! You must be very brave to come here all alone from so far away.”
The provincial governor’s country estate was a grand old house close to the old merchant road. It was quite far from here. The road was just one straight line, yes, but visitors from the country estate rarely came here. The distance was too great for a young child to travel alone.
“I flew about halfway here!”
“Oh, that’s impressive! So you can fly already.”
“Just a little.”
“That’s amazing. I’m Shigemaru. What’s your name?”
“I’m Eita.”
My conversation with the boy was interrupted by loud footsteps. My younger brothers had just returned, running at full speed.
It was obvious that poor Eita didn’t want to go back home when his family came to fetch him. He’d had too much fun here. As we were saying our farewells, I had an idea. I decided to give Eita a little present: one of the spinning tops I’d made that day.
“Ah, that’s your best one yet! It looks so much better than the ones you started with,” his brother said.
“That’s so cool! Shige makes the best tops, so be careful and don’t break it!”
“Is this really for me?” Eita asked. His eyes sparkled. “I can have it?” He hesitated, seeming afraid to accept the gift.
Eita was such a nice, well-mannered child. He was nothing like my rude brothers at all.
I laughed. “Why so timid? Eita, you did great today even though it was your first time playing with these. I want you to take this and practice for the next time you come over. How about that?”
“Next time?” Eita whispered.
My brothers took it upon themselves to start a ruckus.
“Yeah! Nothing stops you from coming back if you want to, right?”
“Let’s play again! This doesn’t have to be the last time.”
“And make sure to bring the top with you next time. That way we can have a match!”
Eita gave us all a big, happy smile. He nodded enthusiastically.
“See you!”
“Come over to play again!”
I watched Eita go, his tiny back fading into the distance as he walked down the old road. He kept turning around to look at us and wave.
That was the last time I ever saw Eita.
***
It was an invigorating spring morning. The sky was a soft, washed-out shade of blue that Shigemaru only ever saw in early springtime. There’s no better day for new beginnings, he thought. The sunlight was gentle and bright as it fell on the blooming white cherry blossoms.
Shigemaru flew high above, looking down at the cherry blossoms from the sky. He saw a few people walking up a hill. Everyone was headed in the same direction. Quite a few buildings were lined up along the side of a mountain. The walls surrounding those buildings were tall and thick enough to deter any would-be intruders.
In front of the walls, Shigemaru saw a plaza and a gate that he guessed was the main entrance. Some horses had landed there already.
I’m here, he thought. He turned his beak toward the plaza and glided down, grasping the wind with his wings to slow himself down. He braced his legs and spine and transformed into his human shape the moment he touched the ground. Dust flew from his wings, which transformed into tanned, muscular arms. His three taloned legs shifted into a pair of human legs. He flexed his muscles, making sure everything was in working order after his long flight. He settled the cloth bag he’d been carrying in his beak over his shoulders.
Shigemaru raised his head and then nodded in satisfaction. He found himself face-to-face with a group of boys, all shocked by the giant who had just come down from the sky. So these would be his fellow cadets. He’d be training and eating with these people for the next three years.
Was there something they wanted to say? They were staring, but they were so quiet. Shigemaru tilted his head in a wordless question.
The boys looked away from him and set off toward the gate. Shigemaru saw long tables set up ahead. Was this some kind of orientation? He saw adults, most likely administrative officers, standing next to all the tables.
“Where is your letter of recommendation?” an administrator asked Shigemaru as he approached.
They hadn’t even given him a chance to speak.
“Here,” he said, producing the letter.
“Name and province of origin?”
“Shigemaru of Shimaki Province.”
“A recommendation letter from the Commandant and the provincial governor. Looks like everything’s in order.” The administrative officer confirmed the contents of the letter and then scribbled something down on a form. “First, head to the dormitories. Here’s your room assignment. There should be a senior waiting there to guide you. Follow his instructions.”
The administrator offered Shigemaru a slip of paper that said ‘second building, tenth room.’
Before Shigemaru could take the paper, the administrator gave him a wry grin. “You’ve got some guts coming all the way to the gate in your raven form,” he said.
Shigemaru gave him a blank look. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, not particularly. It’s not like there’s a rule about it, but the palace ravens will make fun of you.” The administrative officer allowed Shigemaru to take his room assignment from his hand. “You’re from a rural area, so you probably haven’t met many city nobles. They’re all snobby like that. Watch your step around them.”
Shigemaru didn’t fully understand what the man was warning him about, but he could tell that the man was speaking out of concern for his well-being. He bowed in gratitude and then took off in the direction of his assigned dorm room.
As Shigemaru walked, he noticed that he was the only one wearing a feather robe. Other boys were moving into their assigned rooms and carrying luggage just like his, but they all wore colorful kimonos. Feather robes were all black; most children in Shigemaru’s home province learned how to create them as soon as they were able to take raven form. Once generated, a feather robe would automatically transform into feathers when the wearer assumed their raven shape. Ordinary clothes made of silk or hemp only ever hampered transformation. Shigemaru rarely wore anything but a feather robe.
Many of the people that Shigemaru knew well spent their entire lives in their feather robes. People who struggled for money had none to spare for clothes. Apparently, the cadets here were all rich. Shigemaru stuck out like a sore thumb.
Shigemaru stood in the middle of the street, scratching his head and thinking about what he could do to fix this. He didn’t have a kimono with him; it would have been a waste to pack one. He caught sight of another person in a feather robe and rushed over. They stood out easily in the sea of blues and browns.
Shigemaru enthusiastically patted the boy’s back. “Hey! You must be from the countryside like me, right?”
His fellow cadet almost tripped from the sheer force of Shigemaru’s friendly pat, but he managed to stay on his feet. He turned around to look at Shigemaru, his mouth agape. He was short for his age, his features soft and childlike.
“Um, I know I may not look it, but I’m also a new cadet. I’m from Hokke Territory, so I have no idea how things work in Souke Territory. I hope we can be friends.”
The boy kept staring at him for a while, but then he smiled. “What are the chances? I’m from Hokke Territory, too.”
“Really? I’m from Shimaki Province.”
“Taruhi Province. We’re neighbors,” the boy said politely. He introduced himself as Yukiya.
Shigemaru thought that Yukiya seemed like a nice person. His expression was kind. He looked like a much younger kid.
Shigemaru got a look at Yukiya’s paper on their way to the dormitories. To his surprise, they would be sharing a room.
“Oh, we’re in the same dorm room.”
“Now that’s just fate, isn’t it? Nice to meet you,” Yukiya said, bowing his head.
“Nice to meet you, too!”
They talked a bit about themselves as they navigated to their dorm room. They found the right building and then started looking for numbers on signs posted outside the doors.
Shigemaru called Yukiya over first; he’d found the right room. A senior cadet was already inside. Shigemaru recognized him. He felt truly blessed to be staying with two cadets from Hokke Territory.
Their mentor-to-be, Ichiryū, fit the mold of a stereotypical young man of Yamauchi—for better or worse. When he was younger, he’d been more rebellious. His unique fashion choices and odd behavior had made the people of Shimaki Village worry for his future. Now that he was a Sapling at the Keisōin, all those worries were gone. He had a mean look in his eyes, but Shigemaru knew from rumors that he was an honest and hardworking cadet.
Shigemaru sighed in relief. He wouldn’t have to worry too much about his roommates this year, at least.
Then Ichiryū saw Yukiya and turned white as a sheet.
“W-What are you doing here!? You said there was no way you would ever come to the Keisōin!” Ichiryū shrieked.
“Uh, yeah, about that. Circumstances change,” Yukiya said. He gave Ichiryū a pained smile.
Shigemaru stood between them, giving his roommates confused glances. He tilted his head. “Did something happen between you two?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Yukiya said, still smiling.
Ichiryū’s face contorted and turned an interesting color.
“We were friends when we were kids,” Yukiya said. “Everyone gets into a few silly fights when they’re kids, right? But we aren’t kids anymore, so there’s no reason to hold a grudge.”
Ichiryū froze. Shigemaru was tempted to snap his fingers to bring him back to reality.
Then Ichiryū shook himself. “Yes. Yes, of course. Who would hold a grudge over something that happened so long ago? We’ll let bygones be bygones, right?”
Yukiya’s smile widened. “I’ll be careful not to overstep just because we know each other. I’ll trust you to guide us well as our senior, Ichiryū.”
Yukiya bowed respectfully.
Ichiryū’s face twisted again. His eyes were wide open in panic. It looked like he was watching his world crash down all around him. “Fine by me,” he gritted out.
There was a silence. Ichiryū didn’t move a muscle. He was working through something private and horrifying. Shigemaru worried that his soul had left his body for a moment.
Then Ichiryū spoke again. “Well… first things first, I should show you around. Come with me.”
***
Ichiryū seemed much calmer on the tour of the Keisōin. He gestured to buildings they passed and explained the training schedule matter-of-factly.
“We wake up as the sun rises,” Ichiryū said. “When to wake up, plus the start and end of our lessons, is all indicated by the bell up there. You won’t have to worry about missing meals as long as you pay attention. Watch out for ambushes, though.”
“Ambushes?”
“They simulate emergencies, so they happen without any prior notice. The bell could sound at any time, even during lessons or while you’re sleeping. When that happens, we’re supposed to gather in the plaza in front of the main lecture hall. You should bring your ceremonial sword and nothing else.”
“Ceremonial sword? What’s that?”
“This.” Ichiryū removed the short sword at his hip from its scabbard with a flourish. The scabbard was covered in black lacquer and decorated with simple designs. The blade was made of bamboo, but it was exquisitely made. The sword and scabbard were secured by a crimson belt that wrapped around Ichiryū’s waist.
“It looks like a real sword from a little distance away, but it’s just a very well-made wooden sword,” Ichiryū said. “They’ll give you one soon. It identifies you as a cadet at the Keisōin. He pointed to a jewel in the sword’s hilt. “Trees have black jewels, Saplings have white jewels. I think you Seeds get green jewels this year. Keep your sword with you at all times once you get it. Never, ever lose it.”
Cadets returned their ceremonial swords to the Keisōin after graduation. Losing the blade was one of many ways to get kicked out before graduation.
“If you pass the Trial of the Storm, you’ll be given a real sword,” Ichiryū said.
Yukiya and Shigemaru thanked him for the information.
Ichiryū re-sheathed his ceremonial sword with practiced ease. “There’s morning training right when you wake up. We eat after that. Breakfast and lunch are cooked for us, but you’ll have to grab your own tray table and load it up yourself. You also need to clean your tray table after you use it. Seeds stay behind after breakfast to arrange the desks for the day’s lectures.”
Lectures took up most, if not all, of the morning classes. After lunch, the Keisōin taught only practical courses.
“Whoever uses the dojo needs to clean up after themselves,” Ichiryū said. “Dinner is prepared by cadets from different dormitories on a rotating schedule. You’ll find the schedule near the entrance of the dining hall at the start of every month.”
There were usually no classes after dinner. Training sessions held at night were exceedingly rare.
“What do we do at night?” Yukiya asked.
“You’ll be getting plenty of homework. It’ll probably take you a little while to get used to it. You might even need to skip sleep sometimes. There are study groups to help you out. Some seniors organize training sessions on weapons not covered in our classes. You can join those after you grow comfortable with the workload.”
Ichiryū showed them to the largest hall in the Keisōin as part of the tour. The place was massive. The floors were made of polished hardwood. A huge altar stood in the center, concealed by bamboo screens. This was a shrine to the mountain god. The ceiling was supported by an intricate lattice of interlocking beams that connected to wide columns on the ground. A canopy made of cloth-of-gold hung from the ceiling beams. The ceiling was so high that Yukiya had to crane his neck to see it.
Before the Keisōin became a military academy, a true Golden Raven of the past consecrated it as a temple. Vestiges of the Keisōin’s past could be seen everywhere. Some of the accommodations were lavish, and the grounds included features such as swimming pools and carefully curated gardens that were the perfect size for training large groups.
Ichiryū showed Yukiya and Shigemaru around until dusk. At dinner, they gathered in the dining hall. Ichiryū showed them where to get a tray table and utensils. They piled their tray tables with warm white rice, vegetables, and chicken dumplings. No one tried to limit their portions; they were allowed to eat as much as they wanted.
The three cadets sat down in a circle in an empty spot. Other cadets sat near them, talking and laughing. They clapped their hands together, said a blessing of gratitude over the food and then ate.
The chicken dumplings were juicy and delicious. The oil they’d been fried in made the skin crispy. Shigemaru ate his dumplings like a man possessed. He’d flown all the way here. Now that food was in front of him, he felt like he was starving.
As Shigemaru, Yukiya, and Ichiryū were returning their clean tray tables after dinner, disaster struck.
A group of seniors, most likely Trees given their ages, came into the dining hall with a bunch of packages. The packages reeked of rice wine. Apparently, it was tradition to hold a welcome party for the new cadets. These seniors had taken it upon themselves to buy alcohol and appetizers.
The seniors took care of all the preparations, setting up the entire party and refusing help from the new cadets. The Trees busied themselves, listening to the nervous new Seeds with half an ear.
After everyone had a cup of sake in their hands, a Tree stood up to give a speech. One of his friends pushed his back to encourage him. “A toast to our new cadets! We welcome you! You won’t be having any fun starting tomorrow, so have as much as you can now. We hope you enjoy the party, but be careful—you’ll have an awful day tomorrow if you’re hungover.”
Another senior made a face. “How could they get drunk on so little rice wine? Are they wimps?”
“Don’t be mean,” the first Tree said. “Let them drink as much as they can handle.”
The Tree’s speech was interrupted a few more times, but he got through it and drained his cup. Everyone enjoyed their drinks. Shigemaru drank down his cup of rice wine in a single gulp. He wandered among the other new cadets, introducing himself and getting to know people.
Other new cadets acted like he did. Most were only a little tipsy, but some were already very drunk. Everyone was in a good mood thanks to the rice wine and being full from dinner. Shigemaru heard good-natured laughter all around him.
Everyone got in a loose circle and said their name, where they’d come from, and why they’d decided to enroll in the Keisōin. As soon as they were done speaking, they sat down and bowed to the seniors. The cadet next to them would then stand up and introduce themselves in the same way.
Yukiya sat beside Shigemaru and waited for his turn. He stood up and said, “I’ve been assigned to the tenth room in the second dormitory building. I’m Yukiya from Taruhi Province in Hokke Territory. My uncle used to be part of the Yamauchishu, so I’ve heard all about how hard the training here is ever since I was a little kid. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up, but I’ll do my best. I’m pleased to meet you all.”
Yukiya’s self-introduction was average and utterly unremarkable. He received a smattering of unenthusiastic applause when he sat down.
“Wait!” another cadet called out. “You didn’t tell us why you enrolled in the Keisōin, Yukiya.” This cadet was astonishingly handsome, with red-brown hair. Shigemaru had never seen a boy who looked so much like a girl before. He was like an unusual animal, spotted only in wild places far from home.
If Yukiya was surprised by the cadet’s request for more information, he didn’t show it. “I don’t really have a reason worth mentioning. I want to join the Yamauchishu and work hard to protect Yamauchi.”
“To protect Yamauchi? That’s your reason?” the boy asked. He appeared incredulous.
Yukiya blinked. “Excuse me, but who are you?”
“My name is Akeru. I’m the Lord of Saike’s son.”
Gasps of surprise echoed in the dining hall. So this was the new kid that all the rumors were about!
Shigemaru had grown up isolated in Shimaki Province, but even he knew that the Saike family was a very big deal in the Imperial Court.
Yamauchi was governed by the imperial family of Souke, which was supported by the Four Families: Touke, Nanke, Saike, and Hokke. Each of the Four Families controlled territories to the east, south, west, and north of Souke Territory respectively. Legends of Yamauchi’s founding identified the Four Families as descendants of the first true Golden Raven’s four children. The Souke family produced true Golden Ravens in times of strife. Every nobleman in the country swore loyalty to a member of the Souke family or one of the Four Families without exception.
Akeru was the Lord of Saike’s second son. It was no exaggeration to say that he was one of the highest-ranked boys in all of Yamauchi.
“Oh! So you’re the oh-so-famous favorite of His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince,” someone said in a mocking tone.
Shigemaru turned his head toward the speaker. He was a senior reclining on a cushion on the floor, surrounded by hangers-on. He was a Sapling, but he’d remained seated the entire time while others worked all around him. He wasn’t beautiful like Akeru, but he was certainly noble. His face looked like it had been carved in marble. His features were balanced and even slightly enhanced by a slightly hooked nose.
This nobleman had above-average looks, but his contempt for those around him made him ugly in Shigemaru’s eyes.
“And you are?” a perplexed Akeru asked.
The senior’s eyes shone with defiance. “Kimichika of Minami Tachibana.”
“Oh,” Akeru said quietly, as if that explained everything. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m your senior. I expect respect.” Kimichika stood up and puffed out his chest. He returned Akeru’s questioning gaze, his stance hostile. “I don’t care if you were the Crown Prince’s personal attendant. Your status doesn’t matter here. You’ll have a bad time if you try to lord it over your fellow cadets.”
“Is that a threat?”
“If that’s how you want to take it, sure. Imagine being intimidated by an attendant to that fool of a Crown Prince.”
“I will not allow you to disparage His Imperial Highness,” Akeru said, frowning. He turned toward Yukiya. “Shouldn’t you be saying something, too?”
Yukiya had watched this confrontation in silence, but he looked worried. He hadn’t expected to be dragged into this conversation. “Um, excuse me? What do you expect me to say? I don’t really understand why you’re fighting.”
His floundering excuses deepened Akeru’s frown. “He insulted the Crown Prince. You understand that, right?”
Yukiya remained silent, but he shifted from foot to foot. Shigemaru realized that he was annoyed. How strange—Yukiya seemed so easygoing. Yukiya had an answer for Akeru, but Shigemaru didn’t think he wanted to say it.
“People like us don’t have strong opinions about things like that,” Shigemaru interjected.
The entire room, sans Yukiya, glared daggers at Shigemaru. He could almost feel the rebuke in the hostility of their gazes. Why are you opening your damn beak, you ignorant fool?
“My name is Shigemaru. I share a room with Yukiya and am from Hokke Territory like he is.” Shigemaru stood up and placed one heavy hand on Yukiya’s shoulder. “Sorry. I got impatient waiting for my turn to introduce myself. I came to the Keisōin because I want to protect Yamauchi, too, just like my friend here. I have no idea how I’d answer Lord Akeru’s question, so I understand why Yukiya is confused.” He tried to keep his tone light and almost teasing.
Akeru shifted his attention to Shigemaru. “Why do you say that?”
“Us country bumpkins have never met the Crown Prince,” Shigemaru said. “It’s likely we never will. You can’t judge someone you’ve never met, right? Judging them based on what other people say wouldn’t be fair.”
Akeru was briefly speechless. Even Kimichika looked like he’d been caught off-guard by Shigemaru’s lighthearted defense of Yukiya.
“Who do you think you’re going to swear fealty to when you graduate?” Kimichika asked.
“How would I know? I won’t have to think about that for three years at least,” Shigemaru said. He shrugged. “Before that, I’ll have to pass the trials to join the Yamauchishu, and those aren’t easy. Our assignments are determined by how well we do, so I won’t have much choice in who I serve. I don’t care who I wind up swearing loyalty to as long as I can protect Yamauchi.”
Shigemaru’s argument was somewhat simplistic, but that didn’t make him wrong. The cadets all pondered what he’d said for a few moments.
A Tree broke the silence by chuckling good-naturedly. The tense atmosphere in the dining hall relaxed a little. “He has a point,” the Tree said.
“Looks like we found the joker among the new cadets,” another Tree said.
“Kimichika, go back to your seat. We’ve got rice wine to drink for once, so don’t ruin it for everyone,” a different Tree said.
Kimichika gave Shigemaru one last venomous glare and then returned to his seat. Akeru sat down, too. Neither boy was pleased about how their confrontation had gone. Kimichika’s hangers-on told him to lighten up and tried complimenting him to calm him down.
New cadets started introducing themselves as before. Shigemaru sat down next to Yukiya.
“Thanks, Shige,” Yukiya whispered.
“No problem,” Shigemaru said. He waved his hand dismissively. He could finally relax a little. He reached out for a snack on one of the trays that was circling around the room.
Shigemaru was about to bite into his snack when Ichiryū came over to him and Yukiya, scowling.
“You two, come with me now.”
Ichiryū dragged them both out of the dining hall. He said he was taking them to the bathhouse.
When they arrived, Shigemaru’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. He’d never seen such a large and luxurious bathhouse in his life! He and Yukiya wasted no time donning bathrobes and jumping into a wooden tub that was big enough to swim in.
“This is awesome!” Shigemaru said.
“It’s really nice,” Yukiya agreed.
Shigemaru and Yukiya took the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves. Ichiryū marched toward the side of the tub, looking absolutely livid. “What is wrong with you two? Why do you think I went to the trouble of dragging you out of the party!? Because the Trees told me to!”
Ichiryū ranted and raved; he didn’t give Yukiya or Shigemaru a chance to answer his questions. “They warned me! ‘Make sure to teach them the rules before they end up starting something worse!’ They scared me shitless!”
“What did we even do?” Yukiya asked. “I didn’t start anything. The Lord of Saike’s son singled me out for some reason.” He pouted, frustrated.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Shigemaru?” Ichiryū asked.
Before he could answer, Yukiya said, “Shige was just trying to help me. He knows nothing about Imperial Court politics, so what other option did he have? You shouldn’t blame him. You didn’t intervene at all, did you, Sapling Ichiryū?” Yukiya asked, all prickliness.
Ichiryū groaned, and it sounded painful. This situation was escalating in the worst ways.
“Did I do something wrong?” Shigemaru asked meekly.
“No,” Yukiya said. He laughed a little. “It’s just Imperial Court politics. All of it is stuff and nonsense.”
Shigemaru became thoughtful. Yukiya seemed to know a lot about Imperial Court politics. He certainly knew more than Shigemaru did.
Yukiya scratched the back of his head and then said, “I wasn’t totally forthcoming about everything. Like Ichiryū, I’m the son of a provincial governor. The second son. I served in the Imperial Court before I came here.”
“Oh! That explains it, then,” Shigemaru said, nodding. Yukiya’s strange knowledge about the Imperial Court came from experience. The feather robe had misled Shigemaru somewhat. Yukiya was noble, just like most of the Keisōin’s cadets.
“Does it?” Ichiryū asked. He raised an eyebrow. “This is all your fault, Yukiya, so you explain it to him.”
“Fine,” Yukiya said. “Shige, do you know anything about how the Crown Prince became the Crown Prince? You know he deposed his older half-brother ten years ago, right?
Shigemaru shook his head. “I’ve heard rumors, but not any details.”
Yukiya sat on his heels and prepared to give Shigemaru a long lesson.
Until recently, there’d been a great deal of conflict between Nazukihiko, the current Crown Prince, and Natsuka, his older half-brother. Shigemaru had heard something about that, since the instability caused by this conflict was a nationwide problem. The only thing he knew for sure was that Nazukihiko had become the Crown Prince because he was a true Golden Raven.
“I heard that the brothers don’t really get along,” Shigemaru said.
“That’s not true. This may sound strange, but they have a great relationship. Prince Natsuka is his brother’s staunchest supporter.”
Yukiya spoke as if he knew the Crown Prince and Prince Natsuka personally. He told Shigemaru that the Crown Prince only took his older brother’s place as the heir to the throne because Prince Natsuka had encouraged it.
“Nazukihiko was declared a true Golden Raven when he was a child,” Yukiya said. “Natsuka knew exactly what that meant and immediately abdicated.”
The Emperor of all Yamauchi was called the Golden Raven, but not every emperor who ascended actually was one. The current Emperor’s formal title was Substitute Golden Raven. His second son was a true Golden Raven. When he became emperor, his title would be Golden Raven.
Golden Ravens were unique in Yamauchi’s strict hierarchy of nobility in that they could not refuse to govern. True Golden Ravens would always become the emperor, regardless of their birth order or status. If Nazukihiko had been born to a courtesan or a palace maid, he would still be a true Golden Raven.
Substitute Golden Ravens like the current emperor only ruled when there was no true Golden Raven.
“The priests figured out that Nazukihiko was a true Golden Raven, and then it was a whole mess,” Yukiya said.
“Wait a moment,” Shigemaru said. He rubbed his forehead. “You’re saying that Prince Natsuka abdicated willingly after his brother was declared a true Golden Raven?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Prince Natsuka believed that trying to become the next emperor himself was pointless. True Golden Ravens were supposed to govern Yamauchi because they had all the necessary skills and abilities to do so, by virtue of birth. It helped that Prince Natsuka was never a very ambitious man to begin with.
“Empress Oumurasaki couldn’t bring herself to accept that—she’s Prince Natsuka’s mother, you see. She’s the Emperor’s first legal wife and the daughter of the previous Lord of Nanke. The Crown Prince’s mother was a Saike concubine.”
True Golden Ravens were rare. It had been generations since the last one had been born. For this reason among others, the Nanke family opposed Prince Natsuka’s abdication. They didn’t understand the importance of the birth of a true Golden Raven or what it meant.
Conversely, the Saike family was overjoyed to see their prince elevated by the priests.
The Imperial Court split along faction lines, with the Saike family and their allies on one side and the Nanke family and their allies on the other. Prince Natsuka didn’t want to fight for the throne, but the situation was largely out of his hands.
“So Nanke supports Natsuka and Saike supports Nazukihiko,” Yukiya said. “Are you with me so far? That’s why those families don’t get along. I wasn’t expecting to see so much of the same infighting at the Keisōin, but I guess it’s not really a surprise.” He looked up at Ichiryū. “Did I miss anything important?”
“You covered the basics,” Ichiryū said. “You’ve probably guessed this already, Shigemaru, but Kimichika is affiliated with Nanke.”
“And Akeru is the Lord of Saike’s son,” Yukiya added. “So Kimichika is in Prince Natsuka’s camp and Akeru is in Crown Prince Nazukihiko’s.”
“This is such a mess,” Shigemaru said. “I’m not sure I understand it at all.” He glanced between Yukiya and Ichiryū. “This is how I see it. There’s a husband, a wife, and their son. The son is his father’s heir. The father owns a lot of fields, but he cheats on his wife and gets another son somewhere else. This second son is truly gifted, so the legitimate heir wants to give up his inheritance to his brother. The wife absolutely refuses, and so her family and the mistress’ family are now involved. Did I get it right?”
Yukiya and Ichiryū processed what Shigemaru had said silently.
“That’s not really how I’d put it,” Ichiryū said.
“No,” Yukiya agreed, “but you’re not totally wrong, Shige. Using your metaphor, Kimichika belongs to the wife’s family, and Akeru to the lover’s.”
“Okay. I think I’ve got it,” Shigemaru said.
“Whatever you do, avoid both of them as much as you can,” Ichiryū said. “They’ll only give you trouble. Don’t run toward trouble that you can easily avoid.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Yukiya said. “It’s best to give both sides a wide berth. Hopefully, they won’t come after us.”
“Well, now that this mess is more or less resolved, I’m getting out of here. I can’t believe you two were playing in the bath like you did nothing wrong,” Ichiryū said.
Shigemaru watched him go. He hadn’t noticed before, but Ichiryū had sweated through his clothes. Shigemaru was also sweating from the heat of the water.
Refreshed after their bath, Shigemaru and Yukiya returned to their shared room. They set up the room for the morning before they went to bed. They placed a worn-out folding screen in the center of the room, dividing the space into two even halves. The northern half of the room was reserved for Ichiryū. Yukiya and Shigemaru would share the southern half. They set their too-thin futons up in the corners of their shared space. All three cadets talked about what tomorrow would bring as they made their beds.
The topic of conversation shifted back to their reasons for enrolling in the Keisōin.
“I wanted to ask you both more about that,” Ichiryū said. “Especially you, Yukiya.” He stood on tiptoes and peeked at Yukiya over the top of the folding screen. “You told me more than once that you never wanted to go to the Keisōin, remember?”
Shigemaru appeared surprised by this revelation. He looked to Yukiya, who shrugged and then looked down.
“Yeah, I said that. I always worried that if I enrolled, I’d never be able to keep up with the training. I hated the idea of going here so much that I went to the Imperial Court instead. I had a choice then, and I picked the Imperial Court. I hoped I’d never end up in the Keisōin.”
“Then why are you here?” Ichiryū asked.
“I couldn’t remain a spoiled child. Not after what happened last summer.”
Shigemaru and Ichiryū both tensed.
“Last summer,” Ichiryū said dully. “That’s when the Kuisaru attacked.”
Yukiya nodded.
Last summer had been a truly terrifying time for all Yatagarasu. Man-eating monkeys—Kuisaru—had attacked small settlements on Yamauchi’s borders. No one had survived these attacks aside from a single girl who couldn’t remember anything about what had happened. At first, no one understood the motive behind the attacks. The Imperial Court learned that the Kuisaru hunted Yatagarasu as food.
Yamauchi was protected by strong barrier magic that should have kept invaders like the Kuisaru out. The nation had never been attacked from the outside before last summer. The unprecedented invasion had shaken all of Yamauchi’s citizens to the core.
The Imperial Court had frantically searched for the Kuisaru’s invasion route. They had to be getting in somehow. Eventually, investigators discovered a secret passage at the bottom of a well. That well had been sealed up and was being kept under close guard. The Imperial Court issued a statement that the Kuisaru problem had been solved. They would never return to Yamauchi.
“I think the Kuisaru will find some way to come back,” Yukiya said. “I think that the Imperial Court declared the problem to be solved so that people wouldn’t panic. They’re not prepared for what would happen if the Kuisaru returned. It would be nice if they never did, but I’m not naïve enough to think that we’ve prevented them from coming back forever.”
Yukiya’s irritation was palpable. Shigemaru was surprised by how smart he was. No one would guess how intelligent he was just by looking at him. He seemed so carefree and easygoing most of the time.
“So that’s why you said you wanted to protect Yamauchi,” Shigemaru said. “You came here so that you can fight the Kuisaru, too.”
“That’s the main reason,” Yukiya said. “We can’t leave everything up to the Imperial Court, can we?” Then his eyes widened. “Wait, did you say that you also came here so that you could fight the Kuisaru?”
Shigemaru nodded. “I didn’t get a chance to mention it at the party, but I’m from Sazaki in Shimaki Province. One of the attacks happened there.”
“Sazaki!” Yukiya and Ichiryū said at the same time. They were both from Hokke Territory. They’d heard all about the Sazaki attack.
“Not the same Sazaki the Kuisaru attacked,” Ichiryū said, stunned.
“The same.”
Two settlements had been attacked by the Kuisaru: Sugō in Taruhi Province and Sazaki in Shimaki Province. Sugō had been entirely wiped out, but only one household in Sazaki had been attacked. The Kuisaru hadn’t left anyone alive in that house, not even the children.
What had happened in Sazaki terrified the people of Shimaki Province. They knew that they could just as easily have been the Kuisaru’s victims.
“The house where it happened was the provincial governor’s country estate,” Shigemaru said. “He hasn’t used it in years and years, not since the new roads were built, but our old road went straight to it. The old, grand house was like a little settlement to itself. The people who lived there were fairly isolated, though we saw them from time to time.
“That summer, the provincial governor sent us a message asking us to confirm that everyone was safe in the area. I can hold my own in a fight, at least by Shimaki’s standards, so I was sent to check on the situation there.”
Shigemaru had gone and found a bloodbath. There were no survivors of that terrible attack. The stench of the horses’ rotting flesh stung his nose. Flies flew thickly through the air. The edges of the house’s hearth were dyed black. By what, he couldn’t really tell… at least until he found a pile of pearl-white bones.
The hearth looked black because it had been painted with layer after layer of blood. Blood that had dried during the days or weeks since the attack had happened.
Shigemaru hadn’t known the people in the house well, but they hadn’t been strangers to him, either. He was most concerned for Eita, the young boy he’d met a few weeks ago.
He never found Eita. He searched the house, calling the boy’s name, but he found nothing but the little spinning top he’d made for the boy. It was on the floor and coated in dry blood. The wooden floor was covered in more dark bloodstains.
Shigemaru wouldn’t ever forget how he’d felt that day.
Yukiya and Ichiryū said nothing. They didn’t press him for details.
Shigemaru sighed and then tried to smile. “Anyway. That’s why I’m here.” He could have entered the Keisōin when he was fifteen. He’d received an invitation from the Commandant and a letter of recommendation from the provincial governor. Until that day in Sazaki, he’d never thought that he needed to go to the Keisōin. He’d believed that his strength would serve best if he stayed at home. The Kuisaru attack had changed his mind.
“So you want to improve your battle skills for self-defense?” Ichiryū asked. His face set in grim lines. He understood how personal Shigemaru’s reason for being here was.
“Not really,” Shigemaru said. “No matter how much I train, I can’t do much if a whole bunch of Kuisaru attack my home. When I found out that they’d gotten in from Souke Territory, I realized that nowhere was safe. If I truly want to protect what I love, I need support, not just individual strength. I have no idea if I’m strong enough or smart enough to become one of the Yamauchishu, but I’m going to try my very best.” He shrugged. “It beats staying home and practicing with sticks.”
He never wanted to pick up another bloody toy. No child would die to violence on his watch.
“I don’t want to have any regrets,” Shigemaru said. “If something like that ever happened again and I wasn’t the best warrior I could be, I would kick myself and wish I’d joined the Yamauchishu while I still had the chance.”
That realization had come to him late. If he’d waited even two more months, he would have lost his chance to enroll in the Keisōin. He felt grateful that he’d decided to come here before it was too late.
“I understand exactly what you mean,” Yukiya said softly. He was smiling, radiant with joy. “Let’s be friends, Shige. You and I will join the Yamauchishu together.”
Shigemaru didn’t share Yukiya’s optimism. “Uh, I placed dead last in the entrance exam. I’m not sure I’ll even graduate.”
Yukiya burst out laughing. “Don’t worry! I’ll help you out. You’ll pass without any problems, I promise.”
***
“Hey, wake up, you idiot! The bell rang a long time ago!”
The next morning, Ichiryū’s angry yelling shook Shigemaru out of a sound sleep. Ichiryū had taken his blanket off him and was in the process of lifting his futon from under him.
Shigemaru blinked, dazzled by the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the windows. “Good morning,” he mumbled.
“Stop lollygagging around! Your seniors are already up and about, you big baby! Get dressed; we have to go get breakfast.”
Ichiryū was in his element. When he finished scolding Shigemaru, he left the room in a huff.
Shigemaru sat up and rubbed his eyes. The futon beside his own was already folded up in the corner. Yukiya sat in his feather robe on the folded futon, the perfect picture of an ideal cadet.
“Good morning, Shige.”
“Urk, good morning. You’re an early bird.”
“No, just a very light sleeper. The morning bell woke me up,” Yukiya said. He offered Shigemaru a wet towel to clean his face with. “Breakfast today will be earlier than normal because of the opening ceremony. We’d better hurry.”
“Oh, yeah. Let’s go.”
They all went and had their breakfast. Afterwards, the seniors, including Ichiryū, left the Seeds behind in the dining hall. The Seeds were instructed to remain there and form a line with the shortest cadets first and the taller cadets behind them.
After a long wait, an administrator walked into the dining hall at a brisk pace. “The preparations are done. Stay in line and follow me. No loitering, and no talking!”
The administrator stepped to the front of the line and then walked out of the room.
Yukiya was the first in line, being the shortest of all the cadets. He followed the administrator toward the huge shrine that Ichiryū had shown him the day before.
It was time for the Keisōin’s opening ceremony.
The Saplings and Trees were already inside the shrine, standing in rows. There was enough space for the Seeds to line up between them. A group of older men, most likely their instructors, also waited in line close to the seat of honor by the altar. Everyone in the room was dressed in feather robes. It was a sea of black; the only color Yukiya saw was on the instructors’ sashes.
The ceremony started with a salute to the mountain god’s altar. The seniors bowed on command. The Seeds copied them in a hurry but lacked coordination.
After that, one of the instructors welcomed the new cadets to the Keisōin. His speech was short, focused on general advice, rules, and warnings about life in the academy.
Shigemaru was the tallest of the Seeds and the last in line. He had a good view of the proceedings since no one was taller than him, not even the seniors. He caught sight of a few new cadets fidgeting as the instructor gave his speech. He also noticed that the seniors were as still as statues. They stood firm, their backs straight.
The difference between the seniors and the Seeds was clear as day. Would he be the same as them a year from now? As Shigemaru entertained that thought, the instructor finished his speech.
The Seeds would receive their ceremonial swords next. A different man came to the front of the space. He was a much older man than the instructor who’d spoken, sixty at least; his hair was more gray than black. This was the Keisōin’s Commandant. His feather robe had the style of a priest’s vestments. He wore a deep purple sash embroidered in gold. He didn’t appear very physically fit, but his eyes were wise.
Akeru was chosen as a representative for the Seeds; he would receive his ceremonial sword first. He personally received the bamboo blade, scabbard, and belt from the Commandant. He was brimming with self-confidence and had a spring in his step. Shigemaru found it difficult to believe that Akeru was two years younger than he was. He’d never have that kind of confidence.
After Akeru returned to his original place, the Commandant spoke.
“I would like to express my gratitude to our new cadets for choosing to enroll in the Keisōin this year. Congratulations on passing your entrance exam.”
These were neutral remarks that caused no great waves. Shigemaru had expected him to say something more rousing or controversial. He had an arresting voice, firm and deep. There was no reediness in his tone despite his advanced age.
The Seeds all focused on the Commandant.
“There are many more new faces than usual this year,” the Commandant said. “You passed your entrance exams and stand among your fellow cadets. You are all talented; do not forget it. You are the Keisōin’s hope for the future. The academy adheres to two strict principles: the complete autonomy of our cadets, and that might makes right. Your skill and determination are the only things that limit your growth here. We swear loyalty to the imperial family and the Golden Raven, and no one else. The imperial family supports our principle of autonomy. Politics should not interfere with your advancement here.
“Yamauchi has recently faced unprecedented peril,” the Commandant continued. “It may soon face such peril again.” His eyes searched the hall, lingering on the faces of all the new cadets. “The training here is not without risk. If you become a Yamauchishu, you will fight to protect the imperial family. If you become a soldier, you will protect all of Yamauchi with your strength. Be ready. You must be prepared to lay down your life for what you want to protect. I expect all of you to do honor to this storied institution. And now, it’s about time we all get to work.”
That was the end of the speech. It was surprisingly short. Shigemaru sighed in relief. Maybe he wouldn’t have to stand all day.
The rest of the ceremony progressed with solemnity and great formality. When the last speaker was walking to the stage to perform the closing speech, there was a ruckus outside the hall.
“Commandant, we have a problem!” An administrator frantically ran in. Shigemaru couldn’t hear what he told the Commandant, but the old man and the Keisōin’s instructors moved in haste. They hadn’t expected this interruption.
“Make way!” several instructors called out.
Confused Seeds made a path in the center of the room. No one told them who they were making space for.
A group of colorfully dressed people entered the room a few moments later.
A hush fell over the crowd.
“Prince Natsuka!” cadets whispered.
The Crown Prince’s older half-brother was here. Shigemaru turned around to take a closer look at him. The first person to catch his eye was not the prince, but a massive man who stood by his side. Shigemaru was tall and broad himself; this man dwarfed even him. His bulging muscles were clearly visible through his feather robe, which was styled like a high-class merchant’s traveling robes. He wore no crown to complete the outfit. Maybe he wasn’t noble?
His hair was tied sloppily behind his head, reminding Shigemaru of a raccoon dog’s tail sticking out of a hole in the middle of winter. The man’s canine teeth appeared sharper than normal.
What a terrifying guard, Shigemaru thought. He didn’t look like a member of the imperial family. If they were all like this monstrous man, Shigemaru was certain he would have heard more unflattering rumors about them.
Shigemaru’s gaze shifted to the shorter man standing behind the giant. He looked like a quintessential nobleman. He was only short in comparison to his guard; he might be taller than Shigemaru. His long black hair was neatly brushed and styled. He wore a cloth-of-gold priest’s stole over dark purple monastic robes. Although he was dressed like a priest, his face was like a warrior’s, stern and commanding.
This was Prince Natsuka, then.
The Commandant rushed toward the entrance to greet Prince Natsuka and his bodyguard. The other instructors lined up behind him. “Prince Natsuka, we heard it would be impossible for you to visit this year,” the Commandant said.
“We made time,” the guard said. His grin exposed his sharp canines. “Rejoice, Commandant. Prince Natsuka is here on behalf of his younger brother, the Crown Prince.”
“Stand back, Rokon,” Prince Natsuka said. “You’ve said enough.” He nudged Rokon aside and stepped forward so that he was standing directly in front of the Commandant. “My apologies for the late arrival. His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince wanted to come in person, but he had to take care of a few matters at the Imperial Court.”
Natsuka spoke with a similar gravitas to the Commandant, who was much older than he was.
The Commandant seemed a bit embarrassed by Natsuka’s formal apology. He shook his head. “Please do not concern yourself, Prince Natsuka. We are all humble servants of the imperial family here. It is our great honor to welcome you. I thank you for coming all the way here. Now, if you would follow me?”
Natsuka nodded.
The Commandant guided Natsuka to the seat of honor right in front of the altar. Natsuka didn’t sit. He remained on his feet and turned around to look at the cadets. Rokon walked behind him, accompanied by other guards who fanned out to protect Prince Natsuka from all directions.
The Commandant didn’t even get the chance to formally introduce Prince Natsuka before he addressed the crowd.
“First of all, I wish to congratulate the new Seeds. It’s an honor to meet you all today. I’m glad to see you all here. The bond between the Keisōin and the imperial family has weakened in recent years. I feel that’s a terrible loss to both sides. It is His Imperial Highness’ sincere wish to visit the Keisōin whenever the opportunity presents itself in the future.”
Natsuka paused, his gaze sweeping the crowd, including the older cadets.
“Times are changing. The harm that the Kuisaru have wrought cannot be ignored. We all must change to meet this threat. That applies not just to the new cadets, but to the most accomplished seniors here. It applies to the imperial family as well. If we do not adapt, we will fail.” He frowned. “All of you are in the same position as I am. It is our duty to serve the Golden Raven—to be his swords and shields. By protecting him, we keep the peace in Yamauchi. No sword or shield shall be given to those who feel no pride in accepting such a duty. I expect you all to be loyal supporters of the Golden Raven.” Left unspoken was the threat in his eyes: or else.
“Salute!” The Commandant’s voice shook the room.
“Yes, sir!” The cadets saluted instantly. They placed their right hand over their left hand on their chest, their palms facing outwards. The gesture represented the act of lifting up their raven form’s third leg.
Prince Natsuka looked over all the salutes with a critical eye. He nodded, seeming satisfied.
The planned closing speech went ahead, and then the ceremony ended. The Seeds left the room, following behind the Commandant.
***
The Seeds were led to the dining hall and told to await further instructions. They’d be receiving their class assignments next. Shigemaru searched for Yukiya in the sea of people. Yukiya waved to him.
“It seems like Prince Natsuka really does get along with his brother,” Shigemaru said.
Yukiya nodded. “He’s a little overprotective, but he’s definitely the Crown Prince’s staunchest supporter.”
“I never saw a Souke nobleman before today,” Shigemaru said. “I wasn’t expecting nobility to look so… obvious, I guess?”
Yukiya shrugged, saying without words that Natsuka was just Natsuka.
As Shigemaru and Yukiya talked, Shigemaru saw a shadow by the door of the dining hall. Before he could see who had come in, a shout stunned the cadets into silence.
“You little shits don’t realize you’re already cadets!” The man’s voice made the columns supporting the dining hall tremble.
Startled Seeds stopped talking immediately, but it was too late. Their instructor stood in the entrance of the dining hall. Blue veins stood out on his forehead. “Look at you all, twittering your lives away! You’re no more than nestlings! You can’t do anything but chirp and beg for food from your mommies!”
The instructor was fairly short—much shorter than his loud and terrifying voice would suggest. He was also old—almost as old as the Commandant. He was broad-chested, muscular, and had no doubt whatsoever of his authority. Shigemaru shuddered. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he tried to spar against that man.
The Commandant seemed like a very serious man, but Shigemaru didn’t think he was unkind. This instructor looked more like an outlaw than a teacher. His eyes were sunken into his head and his nose was slightly upturned. His skin was rough like well-worn leather. He was completely bald.
“What are you doing, sitting in front of an instructor!? Stand up, you lazy louts!”
The few Seeds who’d been sitting got to their feet, startled. The instructor kept slinging insults as they joined their fellow cadets.
“Too slow! Stop loitering! Are you cadets or little children?!”
As the Seeds formed themselves into an orderly line, four more assistant instructors entered the dining hall. The men frowned at the cadets, scrutinizing their every move.
“I’ll be in charge of all your practical courses. I’m Instructor Kashin.” The instructor walked in front of the Seeds. “You’re all so young, you might as well have eggshell hanging from your asses. You’re already giving me a headache. Unfortunately, it’s my duty to teach you something useful today. I’ll answer your inane questions, so make sure you feed yourselves enough. I’m too old to play nursemaid to a bunch of twittering brats.”
Kashin reached the end of the line of Seeds and spun on his heel. Then he started walking up the line again. “Pay attention, nestlings. We feed you because you don’t know how to hunt and fly on your own yet. Conserve your strength so that you learn well.” He stopped in front of one of the cadets.
“You.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
“Tell me, what are the basic skills required of the Yamauchishu?”
“Huh?”
“The Keisōin’s entrance exam is structured based on those skills. So go on, tell me.”
The cadet shook from head to toe and said nothing.
“Too slow! If you don’t know, just say so!”
“I-I don’t know!”
“Do better next time. Next!”
The next cadet slumped as the instructor’s attention fell on him. “Swordsmanship, archery and, uh, horsemanship?” he said.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all I know.”
“What are you, a chicken? You don’t even remember what you were just tested on?”
“I’m sorry, sir!”
“I didn’t ask for an apology,” the instructor snapped. “Hold your head high, even if you’re ashamed of yourself. Don’t ever give others an opening to attack you. Make them work for it. Next!”
The next cadet in line was Akeru. He straightened his shoulders and said, “The Yamauchishu are required to learn the Six Subjects, Four Martial Techniques, and Two Masteries.”
“The Six Subjects are etiquette, music, archery, riding, writing, and accounting. The Four Martial Techniques are strategy, swordsmanship, martial arts, and general combat. The Two Masteries are medicine and law.”
The other cadets gave Akeru looks of amazement and admiration. It was a perfect answer.
Akeru’s eyes were fixed on the instructor.
Instructor Kashin gave him a hard look before nodding slightly. “Correct. All Yamauchishu must learn the Six Subjects, the Four Martial Techniques, and the Two Masteries. And why? Because Yamauchishu have the authority to act on behalf of Imperial Court officials in times of emergency. The Six Subjects are the hallmark of a noble education.
“The Four Martial Techniques are required for their most important duty: defending the imperial family and Yamauchi as a whole. Strategy is needed to lead troops successfully. Swordsmanship is foundational; all guards require skill with weapons. Martial arts focuses on unarmed combat, for the inevitable times when weapons break or are taken. General combat rounds out that skill set by teaching weapons other than swords.
“The Two Masteries are support skills. The capability of mending one’s own wounds or those of their comrades is essential. Law is needed to comprehend the Imperial Court’s rules and regulations, at least to the extent that they affect the Yamauchishu. The Keisōin teaches eleven subjects. You are required to pass them all to graduate.
“Five of your courses are practical to start: archery, riding, swordsmanship, martial arts, and general combat. After you become Saplings and Trees, strategy will also be included as a practical subject. You will engage in mock battles against your peers in strategy class.”
Shigemaru understood what this implied. Instructor Kashin would be teaching six of the eleven subjects—more than half.
“I won’t go easy on you no matter how much you snivel and cry,” Instructor Kashin said. “Don’t expect me to hold your hand. If you want to leave, the doors are always open. Don’t let ‘em smack you on the ass on the way out. I’m not here to encourage you. You chose this, so it’s your responsibility to see it through.”
The boy next to Shigemaru gulped.
“Now it’s time for the rest of you to receive your ceremonial swords.” The instructor clapped his hands. “When I call your name, speak up and come to the front.”
The Seeds saluted.
Each new cadet came to the front of the room to collect their ceremonial sword when their name was called. Shigemaru wondered how many people had owned his blade before. The belt he was given looked new, but he saw small scratches on his scabbard and the hilt of the ceremonial weapon.
After all the cadets received their ceremonial swords, Instructor Kashin called out to one of his assistants. “Take a look at this man’s feather robe,” he said. “This is your uniform from now on. I don’t care how you’ve customized your feather robes in the past; you won’t be allowed to wear whatever you want when you’re in class. Observe his feather robe and copy it. Right now.”
The assistant instructor stood before the Seeds and extended his arms so the details of his feather robe would be easier to see. Then he slowly spun around. It was a different style from what the instructor wore and didn’t look at all like what Prince Natsuka’s bodyguard had worn. The sleeves were narrow, unlike the more usual full kimono sleeves. Below the knees, the feather robe’s hakama tapered abruptly, hugging the skin until they reached the instructor’s socks. A band of fabric wrapped around the chest to the back, creating a small pouch in front. The bottom of the pouch was secured by a belt. It looked vaguely like a uniform that Imperial Court officials might wear, but it used less excess fabric.
Shigemaru altered his feather robe to match the assistant instructor’s as closely as possible.
Another assistant instructor walked among the Seeds, making corrections. “Don’t just imitate what you can see,” he said. “Make the fabric on your shoulders and elbows thicker. Fit the feather robe to your own body as snugly as possible. Remember that you’ll be fighting in these. You should try to make the fabric at least as thick as the skin on the soles of your feet.”
“That thick?” a cadet whispered.
“If you like your joints, yes. This feather robe is designed to absorb impact when you get hit—and you will get hit. A lot. If you’re struggling to make one thick sheet of fabric, you can achieve a similar effect by using several layers of fabric in the same spot.”
Shigemaru nodded at this clarification. It helped him to know why the feather robe looked the way it did. He made a few more adjustments as Instructor Kashin began his own inspection of the cadets’ new feather robes.
“The style of this feather robe is minimalist,” Instructor Kashin said. “You don’t want it to impede your movement on the battlefield, but you still want it to protect you from harm. I guarantee that this style of feather robe makes for effective armor. If you make it properly, some people will even mistake you for Imperial Court officials. You can use it on the battlefield and inside the Imperial Palace, so it’s quite versatile.”
After most of the cadets had finished adjusting their feather robes, Instructor Kashin repeated that these would be their new uniforms. They wouldn’t be allowed to wear their usual feather robes while they were training at the Keisōin.
“Next, you’ll learn how to wear your ceremonial swords correctly,” Instructor Kashin said.
Warriors trained at the Keisōin had to be comfortable transforming into their raven form and back to their human form quickly as needed. If their ceremonial swords weren’t secured to their feather robes in a careful, specific way, the cadets risked losing them when they transformed.
“You’ll learn more about this in your riding lessons,” Instructor Kashin said. “If you learn to tie things properly, you’ll be able to use your weapons as replacement stirrups or a bit while you’re in your raven form. If any of you get this wrong, I’ll find out and use my own sword hilt to crush you into paste.”
Shigemaru was confused by the instructor’s explanation this time. How could his weapons serve as stirrups or a bit? He couldn’t envision that. He made an effort to tie on his ceremonial sword exactly as he was told to. He wasn’t reprimanded for getting it wrong. An assistant instructor checked his knot and gave him a nod of approval.
The Seeds saluted, all in matching uniforms with their ceremonial swords secured in precisely the same way. They looked the part of military cadets, at least, even if their official training hadn’t really started yet.
By the time Instructor Kashin was satisfied with the uniforms and ceremonial swords, the sun was high in the sky. The instructor and his assistants led the Seeds out to the plaza in front of the dining hall. Shigemaru hoped that they’d finally get a real lesson.
Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed. Shigemaru and the rest of the cadets spent the rest of the afternoon practicing only two commands: “line up” and “form up.”
The Seeds weren’t used to working together or coordinating their movement, so this practice was painful. They lined up, then dispersed into their assigned formations as instructed, doing their best not to trip over one another. They lined up and formed up over and over again until dusk.
“That’s all for today!” Instructor Kashin called out.
It was almost time for dinner. The Seeds were exhausted, their bodies tired and their minds numb from the boring, repetitive drill.
“That’s it?” a few cadets complained.
“Why do that? What’s the point?”
The Seeds were in a foul mood. They’d expected their training to be more stimulating and challenging. Shigemaru felt the same, but complaining didn’t make the hours go by any faster. They spent the next few days training the exact same way without any variation.
Shigemaru hoped that it wasn’t possible to die of boredom.
Their instructors hammered in the techniques behind moving efficiently as a group. The Seeds saw no other form of training until the commands to line up and form up happened almost automatically. The commands became muscle memory and they could no longer trip over one another without consciously trying to.
These dull drills continued even after formal lessons started. The morning lessons were all focused on the Six Subjects and Two Masteries: etiquette, music, writing, accounting, strategy, medicine, and law. Shigemaru barely knew how to read, so these lessons were a real challenge for him. He felt like his textbooks were all gibberish. He received homework and remedial work in all of his morning classes. He started doing homework immediately after dinner and a quick shower, but he couldn’t finish it even if he stayed up all night.
Shigemaru wasn’t the only cadet who struggled with the punishing workload. Commoner cadets had a much rougher time than noble cadets.
True to his word, Yukiya started helping Shigemaru with his homework starting on the second day of formal lessons. Other commoners took note of this and also came to Yukiya to ask for help. Yukiya never turned anyone away. He did his best to assist all the cadets who attended his impromptu study groups.
Unfortunately for the Seeds, Yukiya was a terrible teacher.
Yukiya’s own struggle was to face his own inadequacy as a teacher. He’d never taught anyone anything before, and it showed. He tried to encourage himself. He was smart; teaching other people should be easy, right?
It wasn’t.
Yukiya had little trouble completing his own work, but he couldn’t translate his own thoughts into concepts in a simple way so that others could understand them. He held his head and rubbed his forehead. His head ached all the time.
“It’s okay, Yukiya,” Shigemaru said. “We all know you’re trying your best.”
The cadets gathered in the tenth room of the second building wept silently. They were terrified of the thrashing they’d receive the next day.
Yukiya was ashamed of himself for not being able to help them.
“It’s not okay,” Yukiya said. “It’s not.” He resorted to letting the other cadets copy his homework because he didn’t have any better ideas.
The Six Subjects were Shigemaru’s mortal enemies. His least favorite, by far, was etiquette. It was the first class of the day after breakfast. The cadets cleaned and folded up their breakfast trays and then arranged larger folding desks in the dining hall for this class. There was always a little bit of a delay between setting up the desks and the start of class. Shigemaru spent this sliver of time sweating and worrying about what form of torture he’d need to endure today.
“Good morning, everyone. I hope you slept well last night.” Their etiquette instructor greeted them with a smile.
The instructor didn’t look like a warrior at all. He was in his forties or fifties, with silky hair and a gentle-looking face. He had laugh lines where Instructor Kashin had sharp creases. His feather robe was woven for comfort, not combat. Shigemaru thought he resembled a retired schoolteacher who’d lived a sheltered, comfortable life.
All that might have been true… but the instructor was missing his right arm. His feather robe concealed that a little, but Shigemaru had noticed the missing limb almost right away on the first day of formal lessons.
“My name is Seiken. I’ll be teaching your etiquette classes this year. Please feel free to ask questions. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, so let’s make this time as productive as possible.”
Instructor Seiken seemed like a pushover compared to Instructor Kashin.
“Instructor!” A cadet raised his hand
“Yes?” Seiken turned towards him, smiling calmly.
“I don’t understand why we’re learning etiquette at the Keisōin,” the cadet said.
“You don’t? That certainly is a problem,” Instructor Seiken said. He sounded vaguely pitying.
Emboldened by the instructor’s sympathy, the cadet added, “I mean, isn’t swordsmanship the most important skill for a Yamauchishu? But we weren’t even allowed to touch our bamboo swords yesterday. If we’re going to waste our time on frivolous subjects, shouldn’t we spend more time training in the dojo?”
Shigemaru understood the cadet’s perspective. He saw some utility in writing and accounting, but none whatsoever in etiquette. A good guard should be able to read orders and handle their unit’s finances; he understood that quite well. But etiquette? Court manners? Proper dress? What even was etiquette?
Some of the other cadets gave the one who’d spoken whispered words of encouragement.
“What happened to your arm?” the cadet asked.
Seiken forced a smile. “I had quite a wild and adventurous youth.”
“But you’re a Keisōin instructor now,” the cadet said.
How could Instructor Seiken teach them anything about being warriors? He was missing an arm!
Shigemaru sympathized with the cadet’s dislike of etiquette, but he saw the current line of questioning as rude. The cadet shouldn’t be showing such insensitivity and disrespect toward an instructor.
Shigemaru waited, wondering how Instructor Seiken would react to the provocation.
Instructor Seiken didn’t lash out or reprimand the cadet. “I am,” he said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m retired from active service. As you observe, I’m not exactly fighting fit anymore.” He chuckled.
More cadets whispered to one another.
In a voice pitched to carry, Instructor Seiken said, “I am no longer a Yamauchishu, but I was tested and found qualified to teach the future generation. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here as your teacher.” He kept smiling mildly, but there was a subtle tension in the air. “Yamauchishu can act as stand-ins for members of the Imperial Court. You’re not training to become ordinary soldiers here. Etiquette is the study of social power. How to use it—and how not to misuse it. All of the subjects that the Keisōin teaches concern power in some way.”
The cadets stopped whispering.
“Swordsmanship hones the body. Etiquette hones the mind,” Instructor Seiken said. “There is no advantage for you in simply being physically powerful. Outlaws in the Valley are physically powerful. You aren’t lawless criminals, and the Keisōin won’t treat you like you are. The purpose of etiquette classes is to apply the same discipline you use in your physical training to your mental development. A strong body without a strong mind is an irrational beast, not a true Yatagarasu.” Instructor Seiken said this very firmly.
“If you still don’t understand why you’re taking etiquette classes, you’re free to leave. I’ll respect your decision. You won’t graduate, but at least you’ll be out of the way of the other cadets.”
Walking out of this class would be the same as flunking out.
“Do you have any other questions?” Instructor Seiken asked.
The cadets remained silent.
Instructor Seiken gave his class a warm smile. “Excellent. Let us begin.”
Class on the first day wasn’t too hard. All of the cadets introduced themselves, and then the instructor went over the syllabus with them. Instructor Seiken never raised his voice. He was polite almost to a fault. And yet, by the time the class ended, most of the cadets were more frightened of him than they were of Instructor Kashin.
Instructor Seiken didn’t just teach etiquette, either. He taught most of the Six Subjects, including accounting.
Group drills and the Six Subjects occupied most of the new cadets’ time for several weeks. By the time Instructor Kashin was satisfied with their group coordination, the cherry trees were long past blooming and were covered in green leaves.
***
Practical courses began in earnest at the start of summer. Riding was the first practical course assigned to the Seeds. They had to be able to ride and be ridden, which were different skill sets. The final test would be to cover a long distance as a pair while switching between horse and rider in the air.
The earliest riding lessons were, predictably, drills. The cadets marched together in perfect time and then ran all around the Keisōin to build up their stamina. Sometimes they were instructed to fly rather than run on two legs.
Yatagarasu lost their power to change forms after the sun set. Anyone unlucky enough to be in raven form at night would be stuck that way until sunrise. That was one reason why lessons ended at dusk.
Practical lessons felt so much longer than morning lessons. There were few breaks. Shigemaru ended all his days exhausted.
Shigemaru also worried about Yukiya. He was so short and skinny. Practical courses tested his own strength to its very limits. He was also accustomed to shifting forms, as nearly all commoners were. He doubted Yukiya had gotten enough practice doing that before coming here. He’d heard that a lot of palace ravens never transformed, ever. Not once in their whole lives.
Akeru visibly struggled in riding classes because he was so unused to transforming. He was praised in all his other classes, but not that one.
Souke Territory nobles grew up in a culture that reviled the raven form. Only commoners and horses needed to transform, and they were poor and stupid. Many horses were condemned to their fate for criminal behavior. Execution was the harshest punishment that the Imperial Court could inflict, but excommunication was a close second. Being cut off from the mountain god prevented Yatagarasu from assuming human form. They would be stuck in raven form forever, condemned to toil as horses for the rest of their lives.
Excommunication was accomplished by cutting off a Yatagarasu’s third leg. The third leg was only visible in raven form and was considered a symbol of the connection between Yatagarasu and the mountain god. The third leg was considered a vital organ, just as important as the brain or the heart. There was a reason that the Keisōin salute mimicked lifting up the third leg.
The stigma against the raven form came from its association with criminals and the poor. Wealthy nobles in Souke Territory had no use for the raven form and disdained it. Nobles in the more rural Hokke Territory were less shy about transforming. They understood the utility of the raven form just like commoners did. It was easier to travel and fight in raven form than it was in human form. Commoners felt no shame for transforming because the raven form was useful. So was the human form, but for different activities.
Yukiya was a noble from Hokke Territory. Shigemaru hoped that he was as unpretentious as he seemed to be.
The most difficult practical training routine for riding was the bamboo grove obstacle course. Cadets had to fly through the grove in raven form without running into a tree or crash-landing before they left the grove. This required fine motor control and absolute focus. Cadets who tried flying over the bamboo grove were swiftly punished.
Skilled flyers found the obstacle course fun because they were crazy. Clumsier cadets had to switch between their human and raven forms to successfully get past all the impediments in their way. Getting stuck in the trees in raven form would block the other cadets’ way, so the bamboo grove was a chaotic and fiendish challenge to navigate.
Shigemaru considered himself a fairly good flyer, but even he struggled to get through the bamboo grove without making mistakes and slowing down the people behind him.
One day, Shigemaru got stuck in the bamboo grove and had to transform into his human shape to free himself. He started running, ceremonial sword in hand. He chopped undergrowth out of his way and jumped over uneven spots on the narrow path.
As he ran, a shadow passed over Shigemaru’s face. He looked up and saw a cadet in raven form flying through the trees. The cadet wove his way skillfully through the trees, avoiding other cadets in front of him and passing them by. He flew as if he were unobstructed, fast and free. No trees snared him and no obstacles slowed him down. He’d started the obstacle course in last place, but he was the first to complete it.
Shigemaru was awed by this performance. He rushed to catch up to the cadet and was in time to see him take human form.
Yukiya was the skilled raven he’d seen. His hair was wild and disheveled like a dandelion’s head. He waved to Shigemaru.
“Good job, Shige.” Yukiya’s hair was a mess, but he wasn’t even out of breath. He looked ready to go through the entire obstacle course again.
“You’re amazing! I barely even noticed you passing me, but you passed everyone!”
Yukiya shrugged. “I come from a warrior family. I was taught the fundamentals of flying ever since I was really little. A warrior who can’t fly well isn’t very useful in an emergency.”
Shigemaru had never gotten any formal training before he came to the Keisōin. The difference between his experience and Yukiya’s was stark. He thought about how fortunate he was to befriend someone like Yukiya while he was here. That was by no means guaranteed. He knew that Yukiya could help him. He hoped he’d be able to do the same.
As the cadets advanced through the practical courses, the instructors ruthlessly corrected the commoner cadets. Shigemaru was constantly told to correct his stance. There were days when he wasn’t even allowed to fire an arrow. He was told that his fundamental skills were lacking. He was stuck practicing blocking in martial arts. All he did in swordsmanship class was stand around and practice holding his ceremonial sword.
Spending days and days doing nothing but remedial lessons took a toll on Shigemaru’s spirit. Many of the other commoner cadets were equally discouraged.
The Seeds had taken at least one class in all of their practical courses. Study sessions with Yukiya were a nightly event. Calling them study sessions was a bit facetious; everyone just copied Yukiya’s homework. So many cadets came that the dorm room wasn’t big enough to fit them all. Yukiya and Shigemaru had shifted the study sessions to an unused classroom in the evenings instead.
Only commoners came to get help from Yukiya.
“It’s discrimination, is what it is,” a cadet complained after swordsmanship class one day. His name was Kippei, and he was from Touke Territory. He looked down at his homework, muttering about unfair practices and Yatagarasu civil rights. He’d spent the entire swordsmanship class that day holding his sword and getting yelled at by Instructor Kashin.
“What’s going on with you?” Shigemaru asked him. “Are you okay?” His own homework was far from done. He settled his brush in freshly ground ink and considered what to write.
“Am I okay?!” Kippei tore his hair. “How could I be okay? I get that commoners will always be behind in the Six Subjects, but we don’t get a chance to do anything in the Four Martial Techniques! We passed the entrance exam by being good at fighting. Why won’t the instructors let us do it?!” He sighed. “I know that Akeru and a bunch of the nobles are really smart, but they also have every advantage.”
Shigemaru tapped his chin, thinking. Kippei might be right. The commoner cadets were never given a chance to shine. They were constantly reprimanded and punished for the smallest things. Was this harassment meant to make them quit?
“The instructors never correct Akeru or the nobles,” Kippei mumbled. “It’s just not fair.”
The other cadets at the study session voiced their agreement.
“I’ve been thinking that, too.”
“Me too!”
“I was the best swordsman back home, and here I am! Stuck on simple practice swings!” a cadet named Hisaya shouted. He was prone to outbursts. He ducked his head and sighed.
“If only they’d let us join free training, we could show them all what we’re made of,” Tatsuto said. He was generally a quiet cadet, but Kippei’s complaints had resonated with him.
“I bet Kashin makes fun of us,” Kippei fumed.
The cadets were becoming well and truly agitated. Shigemaru didn’t think that could end well. He clapped his hands in an attempt to clear the room’s heavy atmosphere.
“If you have the energy to complain, then you have the energy to do your homework,” Shigemaru said. “We’ll get a chance to show our skill one day.”
“What if we don’t, Shige?”
“Don’t the instructors make you mad, too?”
The cadets looked at Shigemaru, disheartened. He didn’t know what to say to raise their spirits. He was demoralized himself. Everyone called him Shige now, copying Yukiya. He and Yukiya had somehow become the unofficial leaders of the commoner cadets. Shigemaru had never expected that to happen. He wasn’t used to giving advice. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight with the noble cadets—that would bring the commoner cadets nothing but more trouble.
As Shigemaru and the commoner cadets scrambled to complete their coursework in the Six Subjects, Akeru and the noble cadets handled their workload with practiced ease. Shigemaru was the face of the commoner cadets at the Keisōin and Akeru was the face of the noble cadets.
No one made light of Akeru’s accomplishments. He was the top cadet in every class except for riding. Shigemaru had never seen him be corrected by the instructors, only encouraged. Resentment against Akeru was growing among the commoner cadets. Even some of the noble cadets envied Akeru enough to want to see him taken down a peg.
For the commoner cadets, practical lessons were nothing but pure suffering. The instructors corrected every move they made. Shigemaru wasn’t sure they were doing that out of prejudice, but he guessed that there was some reason for it. This was an academy. The cadets were here to learn.
As Shigemaru pondered the instructors’ motives, Yukiya clapped his hands and said, “Good job, everyone!” He’d just returned from the kitchen with some tea leaves. “I bring tea, and I even got some dried sweet potato to go with it. How about a break?” He smiled at all the cadets.
Yukiya’s bright, guileless smile made the other cadets cool their heads. It was almost impossible to be angry at Yukiya. Even being angry in his direction felt wrong. He was helping the commoner cadets even though he didn’t have to. No one ever said anything bad about him.
“Is something wrong?” Yukiya asked. “Why the long faces?”
“We’re fine,” Hisaya said with artificial cheer.
“We’re not,” Shigemaru said softly. He thought it might be a good idea to lay out the complaints of the commoner cadets to Yukiya. Maybe he understood why the instructors were constantly correcting them?
“Oh!” Yukiya’s eyes lit up as Shigemaru listed the cadets’ complaints. “Yeah, that’s just a misunderstanding. The instructors are being strict right now because they’re teaching us according to tournament rules. Tournaments are fussy and you’ve got to move in specific ways. They’re not about real fighting.”
“Then why are we learning tournament rules?” Shigemaru asked.
“This is the Keisōin, remember?” Yukiya asked. “They don’t want cadets fighting like ruffians on the street. That’s why they’re showing us how to fight in honorable duels. The average Yatagarasu would have no idea how to do that, so it’s only natural that the instructors would correct you all. I get that it’s frustrating,” Yukiya said, “but I don’t think the instructors are trying to make you mad or anything. They focus on the fundamentals because having a flawed foundation can lead to injury down the line. You should listen to the corrections. The instructors are trying to help you, not hurt you.”
“Even Instructor Kashin?” Shigemaru asked,
Yukiya shrugged. “He’s foul-mouthed, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s not trying to teach us wrong or sabotage us or anything. The advice he gives is sound.”
“Really?”
Shigemaru could never tell if an instructor’s correction was a good idea. The instructors never explained why they were correcting something.
The cadets’ shared confusion must have been obvious. Yukiya bit his lip and thought for a moment before adding, “Look, Akeru doesn’t get corrected much because he had the best tutors and martial arts instructors since he could walk. You can bet those instructors corrected him all the time until he got stuff right.”
The commoner cadets nodded slowly. It was something of a relief to know that the instructors weren’t playing favorites. Learning that the skill gap between them and the noble cadets was wider than they’d anticipated made a fresh wave of despair crash over them all.
Yukiya didn’t seem particularly concerned. He looked around at the commoner cadets and said, “I can see that you’re worried, but your ability to fight doesn’t have much to do with your ability to perform some finicky exercises in a dojo. If you fought the noble cadets in an actual battle, you’d probably win.”
“Do you really think so?”
Yukiya nodded. “They’re clearly not used to fighting. You can tell just by looking at them.” He grinned. “I’ve been watching them, you know. As closely as I’ve been watching all of you. In a real fight, the noble cadets wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“How do you have time to keep tabs on them as well as us?” Kippei asked. “I’m overwhelmed with just my own stuff!”
“Let’s put that aside for the moment,” Yukiya said. “I come from a warrior family that’s noble-adjacent. I have a foot in both the commoner world and the noble world. And I’m telling you that I think Akeru and the other noble cadets will show us what they’re really capable of sooner or later.”
The commoner cadets exchanged glances.
Kippei sighed. “Fine. It’s not like we know more than you do, Yukiya. We’ll trust you and keep working hard.”
The other cadets nodded. Their complaints weren’t forgotten, but they were willing to push past them for now. Yukiya was a known entity, and trusted. He wouldn’t steer them wrong, at least not on purpose.
Shigemaru was relieved to see everyone calmly doing their homework again.
Yukiya’s words proved prescient. His explanation of the instructors’ corrections improved the commoner cadets’ performance overnight. Now that they knew they weren’t being discriminated against, they listened carefully to all the feedback they received and did their very best to improve.
A few days after Yukiya spoke with the commoner cadets, a handful of them were allowed to join free training. The wooden swords they’d used to practice tournament movements were replaced with lighter, more flexible bamboo blades. Shigemaru was happy to see his friends finally getting a chance to really train.
The commoner cadets were able to trounce the noble cadets in free training—all except Akeru, who managed to beat absolutely everyone. Akeru was challenged constantly by people who were jealous of him or resentful of his skill, and he always won.
“I don’t think he’s ever been in a brawl, but he’s really good at sword fighting,” Shigemaru grumbled to Yukiya during one of their breaks.
Yukiya gave him a slight smile. “Sure seems like it. It’s no surprise that he trained a lot before coming here.”
Akeru himself was red-faced with anger and panting hard. Shigemaru couldn’t tell why he was so upset. Maybe he didn’t like seeing the commoner cadets beat the noble cadets in duels?
“I may have underestimated him,” Yukiya said quietly.
Yukiya always talked like he understood everything and like no one was above him in skill. That frustrated Shigemaru sometimes. Yukiya was rarely wrong, but “rarely” was not “never.”
“You don’t win most of your duels,” Shigemaru said.
“You watch my duels?”
“Of course. Won’t you be in trouble if you keep losing?”
Yukiya wasn’t much of a swordsman. He talked a good game, but he didn’t have the skills to back up his boasting. His fundamentals were fine, at least according to the instructors. He could move more quickly than most cadets, but he could be easily overwhelmed by raw strength. His biggest problem, though, was that he didn’t attack anyone. His few wins were flukes. He made plenty of openings for himself, but he never took them.
The instructors reprimanded Yukiya for being too cautious and defensive in combat. Yukiya only laughed at them and made no attempt to fix his obvious shortcomings.
Maybe Yukiya isn’t used to fighting, Shigemaru thought. It was a very strange thought. Yukiya did well in most of their classes. His lack of combat experience was his main weakness.
That would be a major problem before too long. Practical courses were weighted more heavily in grading. Yukiya had perfect marks in the Six Subjects, but he wasn’t doing as well in his practical courses. Shigemaru had been too worried about his own grades before now to pay attention to Yukiya’s struggles, but now they had his full attention.
“Don’t worry so much about me,” Yukiya said. He always waved away Shigemaru’s concern. “I’m sure I’ll figure it all out by the Trial of the Gale.”
Their break was ending soon. Shigemaru walked with Yukiya toward the dojo. The place was cleaned daily, but it always stank of sweat. Shigemaru had gone noseblind after a week or two. He and Yukiya put on protective equipment: pads for their elbows and knees and helmets for their heads. They’d learned to weave these attachments to their feather robes a few days after the start of practical lessons.
Shigemaru expected to participate in free training today, but the instructors announced that the lesson plan was changing again. The focus from now on would be on formal duels. The victor would be determined by winning two out of three matches against the same opponent. This kind of dueling was designed to build the cadets’ endurance and get them used to fighting for long periods.
The assistant instructors moved to the center of the dojo, then took equal numbers of steps away from each other. They created a square of space between them where the cadets would duel. Shigemaru and Yukiya sat down near the square as spectators. Instructor Kashin would be the referee for the duels. He stood in the middle of the square and called out cadets by name.
“Red, dormitory building three, room two. Akeru, step forward.”
Akeru sprang to his feet immediately. He accepted the red sash from Instructor Kashin reverently. He must have expected to go first.
“White, dormitory building one, room one. Chihaya, step forward.”
Shigemaru didn’t remember seeing Chihaya fight before. He’d crossed paths with him in the hallway, but they hadn’t said more than two words to one another since the start of classes. He couldn’t even remember what Chihaya had said for his self-introduction during the party.
As Chihaya stepped into the dueling square, Shigemaru gave him a once-over. His mouth was a tight, firm line. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Shigemaru wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Chihaya never spoke at all, with a mouth like that. It looked like he’d never opened it in his life.
He did seem like a fighter, though. He was tall and well-muscled. His long face and sharp cheekbones made him appear thinner and weaker than he was. Long bangs covered his face. His half-obscured eyes darted in all directions as if he were searching for some way to escape.
Chihaya wound the white sash Instructor Kashin had given him around his waist and tied it. Then he walked toward Akeru, who was ready and waiting for him. They signaled their readiness to Instructor Kashin, who nodded.
“Begin!” Instructor Kashin bellowed.
Akeru let out a loud kihap to strengthen his first strike.
Akeru hesitated for a split second before following through with his strike. He was a nimble fighter who liked darting in to strike and darting out just as quickly to avoid a retaliatory blow. He closed in on Chihaya and slashed down with his bamboo blade.
The practice sword cut only air.
Chihaya twisted slightly out of the way of the strike, but he didn’t dodge backwards to create distance. None of his movements wasted any energy. He dodged just enough to avoid the strike: no more.
While Akeru was slightly off-balance, Chihaya struck Akeru in the chest with the edge of his own bamboo blade, which he wielded in his left hand. The blow was forceful enough for all of the spectators to hear it. Two assistant instructors waved white sashes in the air.
“One point for white,” Instructor Kashin said.
Shigemaru hadn’t seen Chihaya move from dodging to attacking. They’d both seemed to happen at the same time.
Chihaya adjusted the collar of his feather robe with a low grunt. It wasn’t very out of place.
Akeru stood in front of Chihaya, frozen to the point of panic. He shook himself and returned to the starting line.
“Begin!” Instructor Kashin called out again.
Akeru didn’t rush in and attack this time. He faced Chihaya warily, waiting for his opponent to attack him first.
Chihaya stepped forward with fluid grace. His sword was in his right hand this time. He swept Akeru’s sword out of his hand with a fast, strong upward swing.
The bamboo blade spun in midair as it flew toward the spectators. The other cadets ran away from the weapon before it could strike them.
Instructor Kashin awarded Chihaya another point for striking Akeru in the head after he lost his weapon.
Shigemaru heard the other cadets commenting on the duel.
“This is insane.”
“I can’t even see him move!”
Shigemaru gulped. Chihaya was in a whole other league.
Akeru was white as a sheet and trembling. All duels had to go for three rounds regardless of the score, so he shuffled nervously toward the starting line again. He’d retrieved his bamboo blade.
Chihaya had gone from cautious and nervous to simply bored.
Akeru’s eyes fixed on him, determined and angry. If he didn’t get at least one point, he’d be furious with himself.
“Begin!”
Akeru burst forward at blazing speed, folding himself forward into a lunge forceful enough to knock Chihaya off his feet—if he managed to hit him.
Chihaya hadn’t even bothered to assume a ready stance. He also didn’t do much to dodge Akeru’s sword. He moved slightly backward and to the side to avoid the lunge. With his sword in his left hand this time, he slashed out and landed a hit on Akeru’s temple.
Akeru went flying out of the dueling square. He fell to the ground with a sound that made Shigemaru wince.
“White, one point! Hey, are you okay?” Instructor Kashin announced the score and then went over to Akeru.
Akeru sat up. He wasn’t injured too badly, but his pride was more than a little bruised. It seemed like he didn’t understand what was happening around him.
Chihaya returned to the starting line. He didn’t look at Akeru even once.
Akeru managed to stand and limp back to the starting line. He and Chihaya bowed to one another, and then the duel was over.
Shigemaru didn’t think that the instructors expected this outcome. Chihaya had trounced Akeru soundly. Instructor Kashin and the assistant instructors conferred for a few moments, and then both Akeru and Chihaya were asked to step out of the dueling square. Neither cadet fought another duel that day.
***
“That was awesome!”
“I had no idea you were that strong!”
“Who the hell taught you how to use a sword like that!?”
Chihaya became a bit of a celebrity after the duel. Cadets clustered around him, flattering him and asking him questions. Many of them were motivated by their dislike of Akeru, but more than a few were hoping that Chihaya would agree to spar with them and teach them.
Chihaya didn’t answer any of the questions his new hangers-on posed to him. The cadets who’d chosen him as their personal trainer didn’t seem to care.
Evening classes ended after the duels. The cadets shed their extra equipment from their feather robes, cleaned up, and then went to dinner. Yukiya’s study group trailed behind Chihaya and his new admirers, walking and whispering.
“Damn it all. I wanted to be the first one to crush Akeru,” Kippei said.
“No way! I could have won against him if I just had the chance,” Hisaya said.
Tatsuto ground his teeth. “Neither one of you could beat Akeru, much less Chihaya.”
“Shut up, killjoy,” Kippei said. “You can’t beat either of them, either.”
Shigemaru ignored their infighting. Akeru was walking a little behind them with heavy steps. “I hope he’s okay after that,” he said softly.
Akeru held a wet towel to his injured temple. He still had quite a few followers around him. Most of them were shooting dirty looks at Chihaya and his fan club.
“Chihaya wasn’t fighting at full strength,” Yukiya said. “We’re not supposed to for sparring. I doubt he’s hurt too much. The real problem is…” he trailed off.
“The real problem is… what?” Shigemaru asked.
Yukiya blinked.
“What’s wrong?” Shigemaru asked. Then he looked where Yukiya was looking and winced.
“Chihaya! I heard you won your duel today. Good job,” Kimichika said haughtily.
There was no reason a senior should be watching the Seeds return from their evening classes. It was unclear how Kimichika had found out about the duels in the first place.
Even Chihaya’s new admirers retreated a step, fearful of the prickly senior student.
Kimichika walked right up to Chihaya and gave him an encouraging shoulder pat. “You crushed that Saike bastard! Good for you.”
Chihaya said nothing.
Kimichika looked toward Akeru and his group. “Say, he really did beat you, right?”
Akeru stopped in his tracks. “I lost,” he said through gritted teeth. “So what?”
Kimichika grinned hugely. “Ha! You seem to be unaware of it, Lord Akeru, but Chihaya is a mountain raven who’s sworn loyalty to my family.” He pointed to Chihaya with his chin.
Chihaya remained silent.
If Chihaya served Kimichika’s family, then he was part of Prince Natsuka’s faction. He wanted Prince Natsuka to be the next emperor, not Prince Nazukihiko.
“It’s quite the loss for someone like you,” Kimichika said mildly. “Aren’t you the Crown Prince’s favorite? What a shame for you to lose face for your lord like that.” He laughed, a raw sound that made Shigemaru’s skin crawl.
Akeru didn’t take the bait. His lips trembled, but then he sighed and turned away. “I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying my loss,” he said pleasantly. “This might be your last opportunity to do that.”
“Huh?”
“Well, His Majesty the Emperor is going to abdicate in favor of His Imperial Highness. It’s been decided already.”
“What!?”
“There should be an official announcement very soon.” Akeru smiled slightly. “I wonder how long Nanke will run around making fools of themselves after that. I suppose I’ll get to watch you and see.”
Kimichika was shaken by Akeru’s news. Even Chihaya’s admirers were surprised by it.
The Emperor’s abdication must not be common knowledge. Shigemaru hadn’t heard anything about it until now.
Akeru’s smile brightened. “That’s why His Imperial Highness couldn’t attend the opening ceremony this year, you see. The Imperial Council dithered a bit longer than he expected, I imagine.”
Kimichika was lost in his own dark thoughts.
Akeru turned toward Chihaya, who hadn’t said a word. “It seems a shame for someone so talented to be kicked out of the Keisōin for silly political reasons,” he said. “Luck doesn’t seem to favor you, tying you to someone like him. If only you were serving someone in the Crown Prince’s faction,” he said thoughtfully.
Chihaya looked down. “I don’t care about factions,” he said in a voice not much louder than a whisper.
Akeru’s eyes widened.
Kimichika seemed even more stunned—by what Chihaya said or that he spoke at all, it was hard to tell. “Hey, what the hell are you even saying? Come over here right now!” He grabbed Chihaya’s shoulder and hauled him away from Akeru.
Shigemaru watched Kimichika drag Chihaya away. Chihaya didn’t resist, but he moved very slowly.
“Why do I feel like things just got really weird?” Shigemaru asked.
Kimichika and Chihaya should have been on the same side, but they weren’t. The Crown Prince was going to be the next emperor, and soon. The political situation had shifted rapidly without warning.
Shigemaru had a sinking feeling in his gut. Things were going to get worse before they got better.
***
Shigemaru was right, though he wished he wasn’t. About an hour later at dinner, he walked into the dining hall and found Kimichika trying to goad Chihaya into a fight.
Other cadets were cleaning their tray tables along the sides of the dining hall and trying not to pay attention to Kimichika’s shouting. New arrivals in the dining hall were drawn to the noise.
“What’s going on?”
“A fight?”
Instructors ate dinner first, then Trees, then Saplings, then Seeds. This was the time when Seeds ate dinner. There shouldn’t be any Saplings here, but there Kimichika stood, red-faced and shouting up a storm.
“Isn’t that Chihaya and Kimichika?” Shigemaru whispered to Yukiya.
“Uh, where did Kimichika’s followers go?” Yukiya whispered back.
“I’ll say it once more, Chihaya. Clean. My. Tray. Table.” Kimichika’s voice was trembling. He was almost screaming at Chihaya.
Chihaya was immovable. “No,” he said.
“Why!?”
“No reason.”
Chihaya was not talkative by any standard, but he got his point across.
Kimichika tried to drop his folded tray table on top of Chihaya’s. Chihaya shoved the tray table away from him, onto the floor.
“I’m giving you an order as your senior! You’re supposed to listen to me!” Kimichika yelled.
Chihaya looked up at him and then snorted dismissively.
Kimichika’s expression twisted horribly in pure rage. How many times had he given Chihaya this order? How many times had Chihaya refused?
Shigemaru expected Kimichika to yell louder next time, but the senior surprised him.
Kimichika calmed himself with visible effort. “You know what’ll happen if you disobey me, right? You haven’t forgotten?”
Chihaya glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
Kimichika’s lips curved upward in a cruel smile. “You’re not the only one who’ll suffer.” He sounded confident.
Chihaya’s eyes were shadowed. Then his face contorted in anger.
Kimichika had gotten angry first, but Chihaya’s rage was more immediately apparent. He went from an ice sculpture to a blazing inferno in moments.
“What. Do you plan to defy me?”
Chihaya stood up.
Shit, Shigemaru thought. This is bad, this is really bad. He looked around the dining hall and saw that everyone else was frozen in terror. Someone needed to interfere before things got out of hand. He stepped forward, but before he could say a word, he heard a muffled thump.
“Oops, my bad!”
A tray table laden with grilled eggplant, chilled wheat noodles, and miso soup splashed all over Kimichika’s upper back.
Yukiya stood behind Kimichika, scratching his head.
How had Yukiya done that? Shigemaru hadn’t noticed him piling up his leftovers on the tray table or sneaking up on Kimichika.
Yukiya, you brilliant bastard!
Shigemaru suppressed a laugh and moved closer to Yukiya in case he needed help against Kimichika.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Yukiya said with admirable insincerity. “You really shouldn’t stand in the middle of the room like that! The Seeds are still eating dinner, you know. It was only a matter of time before someone tripped and fell. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” He used his own sleeve to clean spilled soup off of Kimichika’s face. He found a bit of mashed eggplant and ground it into Kimichika’s skin while making it look like an accident.
Kimichika was stunned by Yukiya’s interruption. Chihaya joined the frozen mass of other cadets. He looked like he wanted to bolt, but the doors were blocked by frightened or interested cadets.
“You fucking runt!” Kimichika snapped at Yukiya. He shoved the smaller boy away, ranting and raving about indignity and injustice.
Shigemaru couldn’t fault Kimichika for being mad. He wanted to laugh so badly that it hurt to force it down, but further mockery of Kimichika could have unpredictable results. He put himself between Yukiya and Kimichika, making placating gestures.
“Now, now, please calm down. It was an accident, all right? My friend here is exhausted from his practical classes, so he just tripped. Right, Yukiya?”
“Yes, exactly! I didn’t mean to cause any trouble!” His lower lip trembled. He bowed low to Kimichika in apology.
Kimichika wasn’t fooled by Yukiya’s false humility. “Do you think I’m some kind of moron? Of course you meant to do it! Do you see anyone else in this part of the dining hall?”
That was a fair point. The dining hall was one of the larger spaces in the Keisōin. There was quite a distance between the other cadets eating dinner and the place where Chihaya and Kimichika had been sitting—about nine meters, give or take.
Shigemaru and Yukiya exchanged glances.
“Why were you here by us?” Kimichika asked.
“I was stretching my legs before I cleaned my tray table,” Yukiya mumbled.
“Stretching his legs, he says.” Kimichika snorted. “Do you really want to die that bad, kid?” A vein pulsed in his temple.
Shigemaru’s mind raced a mile a minute, trying to come up with a good excuse to explain Yukiya’s behavior.
Kimichika took a closer look at both their faces. “Oh, you’re Hokke commoners. Maybe you country bumpkins are too stupid or ignorant to know what my name means. The Minami Tachibana family is very influential in the Imperial Court, you know.”
This bit of bragging was unexpected, but welcome. Kimichika had distracted himself.
“…and?” Shigemaru asked. He stared blankly at Kimichika.
The corners of Kimichika’s lips twitched. “And? You don’t recognize my family name at all? Rokon, Prince Natsuka’s personal guard, is from the Minami Tachibana family. In fact, he’s my older brother! Just wait until he hears about how poorly you’ve treated his little brother. He’ll be furious.”
“Do you expect us to beg you for mercy or something?” Yukiya asked. He laughed. “What a weakling, using your older brother who’s not even here as a shield. Look at you! You’re bullying your juniors! That’s no way for a good senior cadet to behave.” He stopped just short of finger-wagging.
Kimichika’s air of self-importance crumbled away. “You! How dare a lowly commoner speak to me that way! You know nothing about me at all!” He grabbed Yukiya by the collar and hauled him up. He brought his fist up to Yukiya’s face and threatened to punch him.
Yukiya was unperturbed.
Right before Kimichika’s fist met Yukiya’s face, Shigemaru caught the senior’s arm in an iron grip.
“Could you wait a moment, please?” Shigemaru asked.
Kimichika stared at him in confusion.
Yukiya had accepted his fate and was looking at Shigemaru with admiration shining in his eyes.
“Why did you grab me!?”
“If you were just a senior bullying a junior, I wouldn’t have. But you’ve made this all about status, and I can’t stand for that.” Shigemaru shook his head. “Remember one of the principles of the Keisōin? Might makes right. Your family has no power here, and your noble status means nothing. If you’re going to ridicule us about something that doesn’t matter, then I’ll fight back with something that does.” He tightened his grip on Kimichika’s arm. “I’m stronger than you. And that means I’m right.”
Shigemaru’s voice carried; everyone in the dining hall heard it.
Kimichika gulped, but he managed to look Shigemaru in the eyes. “Let me go.”
“Let Yukiya go first.” Shigemaru was still a Seed, but he was taller and broader than Kimichika. He had no idea if he could actually fight a Sapling and win, but he gave himself pretty good odds against a bullying coward like Kimichika.
“Sapling Kimichika, I would recommend you stop what you’re doing right now,” Akeru said from the doorway of the dining hall.
“Huh?”
Kimichika’s natural enemy had arrived—along with all of his followers.
“Akeru, you little shithead. Did you come here to mock your betters as well?”
“What? From what I heard, you were trying to talk down to them as a palace raven would to mountain ravens. That’s not how the Keisōin works.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Shigemaru is right, and that status isn’t supposed to matter here,” Akeru said. “But you and I know that it always does. So I’ll tell you something. That kid you almost punched? Is the Lord of Hokke’s grandson. His only grandson.”
Shigemaru’s jaw dropped. He looked to Yukiya, who looked back at him sheepishly.
Yukiya scowled and looked away from Shigemaru.
Akeru took in Yukiya’s reaction to being exposed as a highly ranked nobleman, but he didn’t comment on it.
“I’m sure you remember who Lord Genya of Hokke is,” Akeru said pleasantly. He sauntered forward, closer to Kimichika. “The general of Yamauchi’s armies and the Aerial Army of Heaven? The best warrior and strategist in the entire country? Is any of this ringing a bell? That boy there is ranked fourth in Hokke family. Only the lord, his heir, and the heir’s firstborn son rank higher. He is a palace raven to rival nearly all other palace ravens.”
“This guy?” Kimichika blurted out, completely dumbfounded.
Yukiya’s expression vacillated between nausea and boredom. “Yeah. That’s me,” he said without enthusiasm.
The Seeds still in the dining hall whispered amongst themselves. Those whispers spread like ripples throughout the hall. None of the other cadets had known about Yukiya’s high noble status before.
As the cadets whispered and Akeru inched closer to Kimichika, Instructor Seiken appeared in the doorway of the dining hall.
Kimichika clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“What’s going on here?”
Silence.
Yukiya raised his hand. Instructor Seiken nodded to him. “You see, sir, I tripped and fell. I accidentally spilled some of my leftover soup on a senior cadet.”
“Oh,” Seiken said. He faced Kimichika. “Is that right?”
Kimichika frowned. “Yes, it is.”
Seiken gave them a small nod. “I see. Yukiya, a warrior shouldn’t be tripping and causing others harm. Apologize to your senior.”
“Yes, of course. My sincerest apologies, Sapling Kimichika,” Yukiya said. He bowed his head.
Kimichika frowned with his whole body.
“Now, Kimichika,” Seiken said. “You should have been able to dodge something like that. It is unbecoming of you to become so enraged and raise your voice against a Seed.”
“I apologize,” Kimichika mumbled.
“Both sides were in the wrong, so it should be fine to leave things there. Is there anything else?” Seiken’s eyes flicked between Yukiya and Kimichika.
“We’re fine, sir,” Yukiya said.
“Yeah,” Kimichika said.
“Very well. I hoped you’ve both learned something from all this. Your punishment shall be to work together to clean this mess. Understood?”
Both cadets saluted immediately and agreed. Cleaning up the mess Yukiya had made was a light punishment.
Instructor Seiken gave them both a kind smile and then turned toward Akeru. “You did a fine job mediating between them.”
“Oh, that? It was nothing,” Akeru said. “Yukiya and I are in the same faction, after all. It’s my duty to support him as best I can.”
“Indeed,” Instructor Seiken said. “But it was not your duty to reveal Yukiya’s parentage. Leveraging status worked this time, but the Keisōin takes a dim view of politics in general.”
Akeru shifted from foot to foot. He wasn’t used to being chastened by instructors. He frowned slightly and then stood up straight. “Instructor Seiken… which faction are you in?”
Kimichika’s attention sharpened on the instructor. Several other cadets were also staring at him.
“Does it matter?” Instructor Seiken asked back. His polite smile was fixed in place. “Prince Natsuka has sworn loyalty to His Imperial Highness. Factions don’t really mean much.”
“They do, though,” Akeru said. “Prince Natsuka could change his mind at any time, and the Imperial Court is divided along faction lines.”
“Even so,” Instructor Seiken said, “the Keisōin exists to serve the imperial family. I am an instructor here, and you are a cadet. The Golden Raven is the only one we swear fealty to. Factions are just stuff and nonsense.” Seiken’s voice didn’t waver. He used the same tone he always did when he was lecturing on etiquette or sword forms. He was as calm and unruffled as a pond at dawn. “Whatever happens in politics, my job is to look after the cadets here. Anything else is ancillary.”
That was that. Akeru had no argument worth presenting to him.
Instructor Seiken’s eyes softened. He appeared genuinely concerned, the way he always did when he saw a cadet who was about to make a terrible mistake. “You worry about distant storms and fail to see the earthquake forming beneath your feet. Mind yourself, young Akeru, and leave the outside world alone.”
***
“What?” Ichiryū asked flatly, his mouth set and one eye twitching. “Can someone tell me what in all the hells is going on?”
"Instructor Seiken asked us to clean up the mess in the dining hall,” Shigemaru said with deliberate helpfulness. “We finished that a little while ago. Kimichika ran off partway through the cleanup. We’re honestly lucky it was only Instructor Seiken who found us—we weren’t really punished. We owe the instructor one for that.”
Ichiryū waved this aside. “That’s not what I’m asking about. Why is there suddenly another Seed in this room?”
There were three Seeds in building two, room ten now: Yukiya, Shigemaru, and—sitting in the corner with his knees pulled in—Chihaya.
“Oh, that’s Kimichika’s fault,” Yukiya said in his best innocent voice. “He was supposed to mentor Chihaya, but he threw him out. Literally. So now he’s homeless, and we felt bad.”
Chihaya stared at the floor. Shigemaru winced. No one liked being a charity case.
“As long as we show up for roll call in the morning, the instructors don’t really care where we sleep,” Shigemaru said. “He’s got nowhere to go. Sapling Ichiryū, can’t we let him stay?”
“No,” Ichiryū said. “Absolutely not. This room was already crowded. Now you want to squeeze in another person? I’ve only got one corner left, and I’m supposed to be a dignified senior. How am I supposed to pretend I’m responsible and respected if I don’t even have room to lie down?”
Yukiya grinned. “Don’t be greedy. You’re our dignified and respected senior, right? You can afford a little kindness.”
“Kindness, my ass,” Ichiryū muttered. “You two have done nothing but humiliate me since you got here.”
“We could just take down the partition,” Yukiya said, trying for a joke. “Then there’d be a little more room?”
“Try it and see how fast I throw you out,” Ichiryū said. His fingers dug into his temples. “And all this because of Kimichika. Didn’t I tell you to avoid that guy? I knew that some kind of disaster was coming.”
“Is Kimichika that unpopular?” Shigemaru asked.
“Unpopular’s not the right word for him.” Ichiryū’s face puckered like he’d just bitten into something sour. “He gets by on leveraging his connection to Nanke. Some instructor always has his back. He’s a moron. Strong enough, but really dumb. If he didn’t have instructors looking out for him, he would have flunked out already.”
“Is he stronger than you?” Yukiya asked. The question sounded innocent, but it felt like a cruel barb.
“Shut up,” Ichiryū shot back, color rising to his cheeks. “You’re not listening to the important part. He should have been kicked out a long time ago. He’s broken all the rules, spoken and unspoken, that the Keisōin has.”
Shigemaru nodded rapidly. From his perspective, a jerk was a jerk, no matter how powerful their friends were. His thoughts shifted to what he’d learned about Yukiya the previous night.
“You could confront him,” Shigemaru said to Yukiya. “You’re a noble, too.” He tried to sound casual, like he was commenting on the weather.
Yukiya’s shoulders tensed. “I… didn’t lie about being from Taruhi. I just, um… My mother was the daughter of the Lord of Hokke. That’s all. I wasn’t raised by the Hokke family. I don’t know much about them at all.”
He looked like he was waiting to be punched or worse.
Shigemaru made a face. “Why would I care about that? I don’t judge people for where they’re born. If I went around hating nobles for being nobles, I’d be… well, Kimichika.”
“Shige!” Yukiya burst out laughing, all the tension going out of him as he realized that he hadn’t lost a friend.
Shigemaru grinned and then decided to twist the knife a little. “Don’t expect any special treatment, Lord Yukiya. I’m not going to bow to you every time you walk in.”
“Who said I wanted you to?” Yukiya scowled. “Keep talking like that and I’ll smack you.”
Shigemaru bowed his head graciously. “Then I shall stop provoking you, my lord.”
Yukiya threw a pillow at him.
Ichiryū watched all this with a growing sense of dread. He took a deep breath, then let it out.
Chihaya had remained silent the whole time. He was a shadow in the corner of the room, his knees pulled tightly to his chest as he tried to make himself small.
“Fine, he can stay,” Ichiryū said. “But don’t expect me to cover for any of you if you make trouble. No fighting, no drama. Let’s get through this year without setting the room on fire.”
“I won’t stay,” Chihaya said, his voice as cold as ice.
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Ichiryū asked. “Why not?” Had he said something wrong? He wasn’t even trying to be strict, but he couldn’t just let his juniors walk all over him.
“Chihaya?” Yukiya leaned toward him, uncertain.
Chihaya’s eyes were small and sharp like pieces of gravel. “You,” he said, nodding to Yukiya, “and him,” he added, nodding to Ichiryū. “You’re both palace ravens, right?”
Ichiryū blinked. “Well. Sort of. I’m not a palace raven, really. Just a country noble.”
“So you have horses,” Chihaya said.
Ichiryū scratched his cheek. “Of course. Nobody runs a province without having some horses. My family has some fairly large stables. Is that a problem?”
Shigemaru knew that Ichiryū’s family kept horses. It wasn’t exactly a secret. Even poor nobles usually had at least one horse.
A tic jumped near Chihaya’s jaw. “I hate palace ravens,” he said. “We won’t get along. I’ll go.” He scooped up his bundle—barely enough clothing to fill a kimono sleeve—and slipped out of the room. He didn’t look back.
“Wait, Chihaya!” Yukiya dove for the doorway, but Shigemaru caught him by the sleeve before he could follow.
Shigemaru bowed low to Ichiryū. “Sorry about all that. Give me a minute to talk to him, okay?”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Ichiryū asked. He sighed. “You can go.”
“Thank you.” Shigemaru grabbed his ceremonial sword and then left.
It was full night and very dark. Shigemaru found Chihaya close to the dormitories, huddled against the sun-warmed bricks of the bathhouse. His little bundle covered his feet. Those were all his worldly possessions, which Kimichika had tossed out of the room along with Chihaya himself.
Shigemaru approached slowly so that he wouldn’t spook Chihaya. “Ichiryū and Yukiya could use your help,” he said softly. “So could I.”
“I don’t care,” Chihaya said dully.
“So you’re going to sleep outside?” Shigemaru squinted up at the night sky.
“That’s the idea,” Chihaya said. He sounded defeated—so exhausted that he could sleep anywhere.
“Seriously? You’ll freeze out here.”
Chihaya shrugged.
Shigemaru made a show of sitting down nearby, his legs crossed and his ceremonial sword across his lap. Not even his shadow touched Chihaya’s.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about what it would be like to be a horse,” Shigemaru ventured. He looked up at the pale moon floating above a grove of persimmon trees. It was summer now. The air smelled different. Spring had passed in the blink of an eye.
“I’m sure Ichiryū and Yukiya have never thought about it, either,” Shigemaru said. “They’ve never had to. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. They haven’t thought about it because it’s never happened to them or anyone they know. That means they’re not cruel, just sheltered.”
Chihaya laughed, a hollow sound in the darkness. “I think that’s worse than if they had thought about it. The cruelty is beneath their notice.”
“Maybe.” Shigemaru smiled. At least Chihaya was talking to him. “My mother’s father—he volunteered to become a horse to save his daughter during a famine. He didn’t want to sell her to feed himself. We get letters; the family he was sold to takes good care of him. It was sad, but I’m glad he wasn’t whipped to death. Sometimes life is cruel.”
Chihaya didn’t look up, but he shifted slightly. “He saved his daughter,” he said.
Shigemaru nodded, eyes on the stars. “Yeah, he did.”
“Thanks. For telling me that.”
Shigemaru nodded. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Ichiryū and Yukiya were raised to treat horses well. They’d never harm one, but they also haven’t thought much about being one. And why would they?”
Chihaya looked everywhere but at him.
“If you refuse to stay with us just because they’re nobles, you’re shutting a door that they have no way of opening. They didn’t choose to be nobles. You didn’t choose to be a commoner.”
Chihaya snorted. “So I should just let them walk all over me?”
“Of course not.” Shigemaru chuckled. “If someone’s being a bastard to you, be a bastard right back. Just be sure of what you’re fighting. Don’t end up like the people you hate—judging someone because of who their parents are, not because of what they do.”
A long silence followed. Chihaya breathed out slowly. “I’ll think about that.”
“Good enough for me.”
They sat in companionable silence for a long while.
“My uncle was accused of a crime,” Chihaya said dully. “Someone stole something, but not him. The landowner’s kid did it. My uncle lost his third leg for nothing.”
Shigemaru nodded sadly. “I see. I’m sorry.”
Chihaya’s uncle had been unjustly excommunicated. How horrible.
People who became horses by choice had their third leg bound by a special cord by their contract holders. They couldn’t take human form without permission, but they weren’t stuck in their raven forms until they died. People who had their third leg cut off, though—
Chihaya raised his head to look at Shigemaru.
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what? Don’t tell them? I won’t. Why would I? If you want them to know, you can tell them yourself.”
“Do you think I ever will?” Chihaya asked.
“Why not?” Shigemaru asked. “They’re not bad people. You’ll see. They won’t make you tell them anything. I think you’ll want to tell them—someday.”
Translator's Notes
Shigemaru’s little brothers call him Shige or Shige-nii (brother Shige). These abbreviations are affectionate nicknames. Yukiya will also call Shigemaru Shige when they start being friends.
Yukiya’s formal outfit in The Golden Raven included a headband in place of a crown; sons of noble families were permitted to wear crowns in feudal Japan, though of course this wasn’t required.
The Six Subjects, Four Martial Techniques and Two Masteries are modeled after the historical Rikugei, six arts considered essential for noblemen and high ranking people in Ancient China.
Chihaya’s eyes are described as sanpaku, a rare condition where the white sclera to the sides of the iris is also visible on the top or bottom of the eye. This condition is characterized by unusually small irises and pupils.
Vocalizations really can strengthen the force of focused blows; this is part of why breathing exercises are folded into martial arts. Standard vocalizations are kihap, ai, and kiai.
Some forms of Buddhism have eight hells. These are temporary realms of intense suffering where beings experience punishments matching their negative karma before rebirth. They include the Reviving Hell (Sañjīva), Black-Line Hell (Kālasūtra), Crushing Hell (Saṃghāta), Howling Hell (Raurava), Great Howling Hell (Mahāraurava), Scorching Hell (Tāpana), Fierce Scorching Hell (Pratāpana), and the Interminable Hell (Avīci).
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