Yatagarasu Series
Volume 4:
The Raven of the Empty Coffin
Author: Chisato Abe
Prologue
The foreign books say that you must learn of the unbending reed in the tempest, observe the evergreen tree standing strong in the heavy snow, and witness the great mountain in the storm.
Understand the different kinds of strength of the reed, of the tree, and of the mountain.
In times of peace, words of loyalty are empty; war tests oaths and few men prove true. Only troubled times reveal those who are truly loyal.
I shall confer on this place the name of Unbending Reed Temple. It shall be a place of learning for those whose loyalty is unquestionable.
“The Golden Raven Bestowing Unbending Reed Temple Its Name,” from Chronicles of the Temples of Yamauchi
Prologue
“Hey, have you heard? There’s a rumor that a real monster’s joining us this year.”
“Monster how? Someone strong?”
The rumors had started circulating that morning. The new cadets were scheduled to arrive later in the day.
The rumormonger was beset on all sides by the skeptical breakfast-eating crowd. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard that his family’s famous. He outranks everyone in the Keisōin, for sure.”
“I’ve heard some rumblings from the Imperial Court lately,” another boy said. “Maybe that’s the reason they’re coming?”
“We’ve got to be careful,” another boy said, “or we’ll lose all our privileges to the new kid.”
“We’ll lose them anyway. They’ll push us around like it’s nothing.” The new kid had nothing going for him except social status, but that didn’t matter. Half the school would be trying to curry favor with him by week’s end.
“Ridiculous,” Ichiryū spat. The other boys seemed excited about the new arrival, but his assessment of the new kid was uniformly grim.
“What’s wrong, Ichiryū?” one of his friends asked.
Ichiryū snorted. “As far as we know, the only thing he has going for him is his rank. Why call him a monster? Don’t make me laugh. We are warriors,” he said. He frowned as he looked around the room. “Skill with a sword is what matters here, not who your parents are. We should judge him when we see his performance in the dojo.”
The Keisōin was a military academy that trained Yamauchi’s Imperial Guards. The Imperial Guards protected the imperial family, including the emperor. Becoming an Imperial Guard was a great honor. Ichiryū and the other cadets present had trained there for some years already.
The role of commanding the country and leading the Yatagarasu fell to the Emperor, the Golden Raven, who resided in the Imperial Palace. The Aerial Army of Heaven defended Yamauchi from external threats. The Imperial Guards, the Yamauchishu, protected the imperial family alone. They only took orders from the people they directly served.
The Yamauchishu was an elite organization. The warriors who joined their ranks were the best of the best. The position came with matching privileges—and shared trauma. All members had to endure the harsh training of the Keisōin. Social status didn’t matter. Only talent was required—at least in theory. A long time had passed since that was actually true.
Ichiryū’s words were borne of frustration toward his fellow cadets’ obsession with family status. The other cadets looked at him as if he’d just grown three heads.
“What’s up with him? Did he eat something from off the ground or something?”
“No, no, you’ve got it wrong. He wants to be the cool senior, you see, so he’s putting on airs in front of the rest of us.”
“Just let him be,” people said in whispers just loud enough for Ichiryū to hear.
“You little shits,” Ichiryū spat. He was about to get up, but the rumormonger gestured at him to remain sitting.
“Calm down, Ichiryū. I wouldn’t call someone a monster just because they have high status. There’s another reason to call him that—a good one,” the rumormonger said with a knowing smile. “Apparently, this newcomer was the Crown Prince’s personal attendant before he decided to come here.”
“The Crown Prince’s personal attendant!?”
“Wait, is that true?”
“That’s amazing!”
The other cadets talked over one another in their excitement. It was a great honor to be appointed the Crown Prince’s personal attendant. Whoever this new kid was, their future as one of the imperial family’s trusted vassals was all but assured.
“Then why is he coming here?” one of the cadets asked. “If he was already the Crown Prince’s personal attendant, he could have just kept serving in the Imperial Court. Coming here is kinda like a downgrade, isn’t it?”
Ichiryū frowned. There was a Shadow Rank system in the Imperial Court. Anyone born to a high-ranking family was guaranteed a good position in the Imperial Court by virtue of their birth alone. If the Crown Prince had promoted someone with a low social status to be his personal attendant, then that low-ranking attendant coming here would make sense. Getting into the Keisōin and graduating conferred higher status and legitimacy to almost anyone.
But this new kid was supposed to be from a noble family with high status already. Him coming to the Keisōin made no sense.
“I heard that this monster said using the Shadow Rank system was beneath him, or something like that,” the rumormonger said. “He wants to prove his strength to everyone. That’s why he enrolled.”
“That’s stupid. Most people who enroll never graduate.”
The cadets here all knew how difficult training at the Keisōin could be. They exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“Well, this is all just speculation,” the rumormonger said. “I’ve heard he’s talented, but city nobles buy their reputations all the time. He’s probably just average.”
“But what if he’s not? If he has both talent and high social status, he really will be a monster.”
“Whatever, we should be fine as long as he isn’t a pretentious bastard.”
As the cadets discussed the new kid, Ichiryū remained silent, ruminating on what he’d heard. The new kid was the scion of an important noble family and the Crown Prince’s personal attendant. The Crown Prince had few attendants, so it should be easy to figure out who this boy was. It became even easier to guess when he factored in that the new kid would be a boy like the rest of them—only boys aged fifteen to seventeen could enroll in the Keisōin.
The face of a boy Ichiryū knew came to mind. Flashes of a devious smile and an empty-headed attitude flitted across his memory. But that was impossible. It couldn’t be him. Everyone knew that boy was completely incompetent.
Ichiryū shook his head. He put the boy’s face out of his mind. That boy was terrified of the Keisōin. He’d never agree to go. He’d never expressed any desire to enter the Imperial Court at all. That was why Ichiryū was here in the first place.
Ichiryū devoured the last few grains of white rice left in his bowl in an effort to dispel the sense of dread that had shaken his equilibrium.
***
After breakfast, Ichiryū and his friends went to the dojo. It was spring break, so training wasn’t mandatory. Ichiryū participated in a few light drills with the other cadets present. After that, the small group set off to a nearby pond to wash the sweat from their brows.
“Hey, it’s the new kid!” one of the cadets called out.
The cadets in Ichiryū’s group started talking over one another again.
“How did he get here so fast?”
“Are we sure he’s new?”
“Yes! He’s coming by flying carriage.”
Only high-ranking, wealthy nobles could afford to travel in flying carriages. The so-called monster had just arrived at the Keisōin in one. Ichiryū’s group rushed over to the place where the carriage would land. Ichiryū didn’t hurry. He was still worried about the new kid’s identity. His steps felt heavy.
Ichiryū was the last to arrive at the carriage ground. The other cadets were crouched behind azalea bushes, pointing and whispering.
“I see. He came early to move all his furniture.”
“Look at that, he’s got tons of luggage. I only brought a little bundle of stuff with me.”
“And look where he’s going! Isn’t that the newest dormitory?”
“The instructors are going out of their way to keep him happy.”
Ichiryū remained silent as his friends mocked the new kid. The boy he remembered was not one to indulge in luxuries. Perhaps his guess was wrong. He hoped it was. He peeked over his friends’ shoulders, trying to get a better look at the new kid’s face.
He saw the new kid’s back first, his posture perfectly straight. He stood beneath a flowering cherry tree. His court uniform was a deep scarlet covered in delicate white embroidery. Servants carried his luggage to and fro all around him. The boy didn’t move; he just stood there imposingly with his back to Ichiryū. He issued a few instructions, pointing with a folding fan that was dyed purple and decorated with gold leaf. His glossy brown hair was neatly groomed.
The boy turned around to talk to the servants. Ichiryū saw his face. He was handsome, excessively so; Ichiryū wouldn’t be surprised if a poet or two had composed an ode to him already. His skin was the color of white peonies at dusk. His eyes were large and shining and his facial features were soft like a woman’s. He drew the eye, not simply beautiful but arresting and charismatic. Ichiryū guessed that he drew people in naturally without even needing to try.
None of that really mattered to Ichiryū, of course. He was relieved to be mistaken in his guess. This boy was nothing like the one he’d expected to show up here. His mood lifted considerably. He forgot that he was ever worried in the first place.
“What a face,” one of the other cadets said.
“Nobles only take beauties as their wives and concubines, obviously.”
“Wouldn’t it be awesome if he fell on his face or something?”
Ichiryū left his friends to their mockery, his heart and his steps equally light.
***
Ichiryū washed his face in the pond and then went to his dormitory room in the second building. He lived in the tenth room on the first floor. This would be where he lived for the next year at least.
Cadets at the Keisōin had to overcome three trials, one per year. There was an old proverb in one of the school’s ancient documents that read, You must learn of the unbending reed in the tempest, observe the evergreen tree standing strong in the heavy snow, and witness the great mountain in the storm.
A single blade of grass wasn’t stronger than the howling winds of a storm. It survived because it could bend. Flexibility and hardiness were how grass showed its strength. The tree was strong because it was resilient enough to live through the harsh and bitterly cold winter—true strength only revealed itself in times of trouble and necessity. The mountain’s strength came from its permanence; storms might harry the mountain, but the mountain stood tall. It was the tree on a much larger scale.
The Keisōin’s trials were based on the grass, the tree and the mountain. They were called the Trial of the Gale, the Trial of Frost, and the Trial of the Storm.
First-year cadets were called Seeds. After they passed the Trial of the Gale, they became Saplings. Those who passed the Trial of Frost in their second year became Trees. The Trial of the Storm was the Keisōin’s graduation ritual. Those who passed it with distinction became Yamauchishu.
Plenty of Seeds became Saplings at the Keisōin, but very few of those Saplings became Trees. Only the cadets who passed the Trial of the Storm with the highest marks were permitted to join the ranks of the Yamauchishu, Yamauchi’s Imperial Guards. Trees got their own rooms, but Seeds and Saplings had to share with two others. In most cases, a Sapling would live in a room with two Seeds. The Sapling would oversee the Seeds and assist with their training.
For the Seeds, this living arrangement was a pain in the ass. About half of the Seeds who came to the Keisōin flunked out before they became Saplings. Part of the reason was that the Trial of the Gale was harsh, of course, but social dynamics among the cadets caused more people to drop out than the trial itself.
Ichiryū considered himself fortunate. He hadn’t run into too much social friction during his training here, though he’d experienced a few struggles that he’d rather not think about. He was a Sapling now, so he shouldn’t have too much trouble this year. He was looking forward to having juniors. He’d been teased for playing it cool now that he was one of the higher-achieving cadets, but he didn’t really mind that. He looked forward to meeting the Seeds in his shared room.
He took a moment to calm his nerves so that he could make a good impression on the new cadets. He sat at a desk at the back of his shared room and watched the Keisōin come to life in the early morning. Cadets chatted in the halls and nearby rooms as newcomers moved in.
“Excuse me, but is this the tenth room of the second building?” a boy asked from the doorway. The door was closed. Ichiryū couldn’t see the boy, but his voice was loud and clear. He sounded more like he was challenging someone to a duel than asking for directions.
“Yes, it is. You may come in.”
“I will. Please excuse my intrusion,” the boy answered.
The door opened with a loud thud. On the other side, there was a veritable giant.
He was barely able to fit through the door’s frame. He paid no mind to the dumbfounded Ichiryū. His attempt to pass through the door ended with him slamming his head against the lintel. The giant stood still, wincing in pain for a few moments. Then he smiled shyly and ducked his head. He entered the room with more care and then knelt down in front of Ichiryū.
“It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Shigemaru, and I’ll be living here in the tenth room with you. I thank you for your guidance, senior.”
Shigemaru was flawlessly polite, but Ichiryū found his physical hugeness absolutely terrifying. Shigemaru was deeply tanned and had thick black eyebrows that looked like massive caterpillars. The sternness of his features was softened by an incongruous button nose and huge, kind black eyes. He looked like a bear that had decided to walk among people.
“How old are you, Shigemaru?” Ichiryū asked.
“Uh, I’ll be eighteen in two months.”
“Eighteen?”
Boys could only enroll in the Keisōin if they were between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. Boys from noble families tended to enroll as soon as possible. Seventeen-year-old new cadets were rare—and they were almost always commoners.
Ichiryū was the son of a country noble. He’d enrolled in the Keisōin when he was fifteen, as was typical. Now he was in a strange situation. He was a senior to an older, much larger junior cadet. Just like that, his dream of being a confident and dependable mentor to a nervous young cadet was utterly shattered.
Shigemaru was at least very polite and respectful. That was a blessing of sorts, but he was not at all the junior cadet that Ichiryū had imagined.
“Well, Shigemaru. My name is Ichiryū, and I’m a Sapling. We’ll be sharing a room this year. It’s nice to meet you.” He wanted to panic and bolt, so he fell back on good manners to ground himself. It would have been rude if he’d forgotten to introduce himself.
“I know,” Shigemaru said. “I’m from Shimaki Province, you know. I’ve heard many rumors about how our provincial governor’s third son fares in the Keisōin. You have a stellar reputation, Ichiryū. As one of the people who lives in your father’s domain, I am truly humbled to meet you.”
So Shigemaru was from Shimaki. That made things harder, not easier.
Ichiryū had no good response for Shigemaru. He searched for words.
Shigemaru suddenly turned around to look at something behind him. “You know him too, don’t you?” he asked.
The other junior cadet had entered the room behind Shigemaru. Ichiryū hadn’t noticed him before because Shigemaru’s monstrous bulk had hidden him. This cadet appeared shorter than usual.
Ichiryū sat up straight in an attempt to look regal and imposing.
He recognized his new junior.
Oh, no.
“Yes, of course we know each other,” the short cadet said. “You could call Ichiryū and I childhood friends. It’ll be hard to treat him like a friend, though, now that he’s our senior. I’m glad I get to share a room with someone I can trust,” the boy said with a carefree laugh.
Old memories came back to haunt Ichiryū. The pain, the verbal abuse, washed over him in waves. He forced himself to smile in response to the boy’s laugh.
The source of all his nightmares leaned out of Shigemaru’s shadow. His brown hair was up in a ponytail. His face was nondescript, the kind of face that was easy for most people to forget. His terrifying, cunning eyes concealed his true nature from everyone.
“Long time no see, Ichiryū. Let me introduce myself again. I’m Yukiya of Taruhi. Let’s do our best to get along, yeah?” he asked. His smile was as bright as a sunrise.
Ichiryū screamed in horror—but only on the inside.
Translator's Notes
Unbending Reed Temple is the literal translation of Keisōin. The -in suffix means “institution” and is used in the names of universities, hospitals, temples and similar places. We learn later that the Keisōin was established as a temple but became a military academy.
Dining tables were rare in historical Japan. Every student in the Keisōin uses a small folding tray table at meals that they are then responsible for cleaning and restoring to its proper place.
The word used to describe Shigemaru's swoleness is ōnyūdō. These are yōkai (demonic creatures or monsters) from Japanese folklore. Traditionally, ōnyūdō are giants who look like Buddhist monks.
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