Yatagarasu Series 4 - The Raven of the Empty Coffin - Part 3: Chihaya

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 4: 

The Raven of the Empty Coffin

Author: Chisato Abe

Part 3: Chihaya

“Brother, help!”

Yui’s bloodcurdling scream made Kō drop the basket he was holding. The cotton inside scattered in all directions, blown by the wind, as he dashed through the fields. People looked at him as he passed, all pale and pitying.

The shed lay beyond them, at the edge of a field.

The door, usually open, was tightly closed.

“No, stop… Brother, brother!” Yui kept calling for help. The closed door of the shed rattled in its frame.

“Let it be,” a field worker said. He grabbed Kō’s arm and pulled him back.

He shook the man off and crashed into the door with all his might. The door broke off its sliders, and then Kō was inside. The inside of the shed was dark. He saw farm tools neatly arranged along one wall with bales of straw and hay stacked underneath.

Kō caught sight of a familiar man in the shed and stood still. The man was staring at him, stunned.

Yui lay on the floor, her back pressed against a loose pile of straw. The man in front of her had her by the throat. She didn’t dare move. Her feather robe was rolled up, exposing her skinny legs. There was straw in her hair.

Kō had no space in his mind for thoughts. He didn’t remember what he did then. By the time he came back to himself, the man was on the floor of the shed with blood pooling around his head. So much blood; Kō had never seen so much before. He held his sobbing sister in his arms for a while, quiet but also disquieted. How had he gotten here?

“Kō, what have you done!?”

Screams from the field workers drew Kō’s attention. He raised his head sluggishly. He could guess what he’d just done, even if he didn’t remember it. He knew there would be consequences.

“This is bad. I saw people running back to the estate.”

“We have no time.”

“Kō, take Yui and run! Hurry!”

Kō did as he was told and ran out of the shed with Yui on his back. In front of him were the wide cotton fields, all ready for harvest. They were pure white like fresh-fallen snow. He ran through them with only one goal in mind—the mountains. No one lived in the mountains.

He’d toiled and sweated day after day at that estate for years, but no more.

***

Sumio was dazzled by bright sunlight as he left the Keisōin’s library. He blinked spots out of his vision and shielded his eyes with his hand. He thought about turning around and going back to the refreshing darkness indoors. Before he could make up his mind, Yukiya called out to him.

“Sumio? What brings you here?”

Yukiya was on his way into the library, a stack of books in his hands.

“Oh, Yukiya! How are you?”

“Good! I’ve made some friends here. I can’t really complain.”

Sumio was a commoner by birth, but a Yamauchishu by training. He and the Crown Prince had first met when they were both children. Sumio had worked hard so that he could become the Crown Prince’s personal guard. Yukiya and Sumio had served the Crown Prince side-by-side for a whole year. Yukiya had only been attending the Keisōin for a season, but it felt like a long time since Sumio had last seen him.

“I’m glad you’re collecting some trustworthy allies,” Sumio said. “If the Crown Prince doesn’t hire a few more guards soon, I’ll get ulcers.”

Ever since Natsuka had made his support public, Rokon had loaned some of his men to the Crown Prince at times, which did help ease Sumio’s burden a little. Sumio didn’t completely trust Rokon, though. To make matters worse, the Yamauchishu who’d graduated in the past few years had proved uniformly unreliable. Sumio was still the Crown Prince’s one and only personal guard.

“After you all become Yamauchishu, maybe I’ll get a break for once.”

“Don’t worry. I’m doing everything I can to make sure we all pass the trials.” Yukiya gave him a bright smile.

Sumio did a double-take. He wasn’t used to seeing Yukiya smile and couldn’t tell if it was sincere.

Yukiya tilted his head. “So, what brings you here, Sumio? Research?”

“Oh, yes. A bit.”

“You’re on your way back, right? I’ll see you off.”

Yukiya had guessed that Sumio’s research topic was a sensitive one. He didn’t press him for details where so many people could hear him. He started walking with Sumio, his hands still full of books.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“The instructors told us to do self-study today. We’ll be taking exams for the next ten days, so I thought I’d try my luck at guessing the questions.”

A ten-day exam period preceded long vacations at the Keisōin. Sumio remembered those exams vividly. “Don’t slack off. You should study as much as you can for those.”

“I don’t need to study,” Yukiya said. “I only need to hear or read something once to remember it.”

Sumio found this answer alarming, but he didn’t know what to say to impress upon Yukiya that the discipline of study was important. Knowing all the material was good, but not needing to work for it now would leave him without good study habits later.

“The problem is my friends,” Yukiya said. “I keep trying to help them, but I can’t figure out what they’re struggling with in the first place. We were getting nowhere, so Akeru kicked me out of the study group for the day.”

Yukiya looked up at the sky in lament. “I’m so useless,” he said to a passing cloud.

Sumio had memories of exhaustion and panic connected to the Keisōin’s exams. He smiled. “Akeru—you mean Masuho no Susuki’s little brother? Does he have bad grades?”

“Nope,” Yukiya said. “He teaches the study group. He used to pick fights with all the commoners, but he recently had a change of heart.”

According to Yukiya, Akeru had been quite self-conscious over his previous attitude. During his first few days in the study group, he’d tried his best not to make waves. He’d discovered a passion for teaching and was now the study group’s de facto leader.

“His explanations are accurate and easy to understand, so they all treat him as a god among men now. The other cadets call him ‘Noble Professor,’ which is half a joke, but he hasn’t realized that yet. I think he’s a lot like his sister. Smart, trustworthy, but also extremely stubborn.”

“Sounds about right.” Sumio grinned.

Masuho no Susuki was famed for her beauty throughout all Yamauchi. Most people didn’t know about her high sense of honor and pride. She served as the Princess of Sakura Palace’s lady-in-waiting, so Sumio had a good working relationship with her. He’d also clashed with her a few times when they disagreed on something. Sumio had yet to win an argument against her.

“Anyway, why are you here, Sumio?” Yukiya asked. His eyes roved around their surroundings; he wanted to make sure no one was listening. “It’s about the incident from a hundred years ago, right?”

Yukiya knew everything about what had happened with the White Raven. The Crown Prince had called him to the Sun Palace during one of Yukiya’s breaks and personally explained the situation to him. He’d worried about Yukiya’s reaction, but Yukiya didn’t seem fazed at all by the revelation that his lord might be a failed Golden Raven.

“Memories going back to the time of Yamauchi’s founding, huh?” Yukiya had been surprised to learn that true Golden Ravens shared memories, but Nazukihiko was already weird. This new fact just added to the existing pile of weird.

“You don’t seem surprised,” the Crown Prince said. He appeared mildly confused.

“I am,” Yukiya said. “But your missing memories are a problem to solve, not a criterion that determines whether or not you’re a true Golden Raven. I’m more concerned that you think my loyalty would be shaken by something like this.”

“You’re only saying that because I have the power to fix the tears in reality, right? But I don’t know anything about why they’re appearing or what using that power will cause.”

“Even if that’s the case, it’s still better than doing nothing and letting those tears be, isn’t it? That would be stupid.” Yukiya scoffed. “What else are you supposed to do? We don’t have any alternatives. If you don’t use your power, things only get worse. We’ve seen that firsthand.”

“That’s a fair point, but…”

“Don’t overthink it. You know I’m right.” He nodded firmly. “We all know you care for Yamauchi more than anyone else. There’s no way that power would bring harm to our people. Believe in yourself. I’d feel better if you leaned into your exceptionalism like you always do. Hesitating to help Yamauchi and second-guessing yourself really isn’t like you.”

Sumio sighed inwardly. Yukiya didn’t care about the Crown Prince’s missing memories, but Natsuka and the Crown Prince himself were quite preoccupied by them. Natsuka had dedicated much of his time to researching historical documents in the Imperial Court.

Unfortunately, record-keeping had been worse a hundred years ago, so Natsuka had little to show for his efforts. He’d managed to get a basic understanding of the circumstances surrounding the previous true Golden Raven’s disappearance. He’d vanished in the spring of the twenty-eighth year of his reign.

The Forbidden Gate had been open at the time. The true Golden Raven had constantly traveled back and forth between Yamauchi and the world it connected to via the tears in reality. His name was Naritsuhiko, and he was Yamauchi’s emperor four generations before the current one.

Naritsuhiko had dealt with a drought that had occurred in his mid-twenties. The next few decades were largely peaceful. But then, one day, a massive earthquake shook all of Yamauchi. Naritsuhiko went through the Forbidden Gate. The records said that he had gone to consult the mountain god.

Naritsuhiko was never seen again.

Natsuka’s research turned up a new account of Naritsuhiko’s last journey out through the Forbidden Gate. He hadn’t gone alone—one of his guards had gone with him.

“There has to be more to this,” Natsuka said. “He entered the Forbidden Gate with his emperor. Only he came back—alone.”

“So he left the true Golden Raven behind?” Yukiya asked.

“Exactly. His professional trajectory after his return to Yamauchi was also unconventional. He became a Yellow Raven.”

Yukiya’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You’re talking about Eiju.”

The Yellow Raven was the leader of all of Yamauchi’s civil officials. The position was appointed and not inherited, so there was not always a Yellow Raven in service to the Imperial Court. Yellow Ravens cropped up in times of strife and trouble, especially during times when no true Golden Raven ruled. Only a handful of officials throughout Yamauchi’s long history had received the title of Yellow Raven.

A Yellow Raven could only be appointed by a unanimous vote of the Imperial Council. That was why there’d been so few of them. It was the highest position anyone could achieve at the Imperial Court. Yellow Ravens ruled in place of true Golden Ravens, either because the true Golden Raven was incapacitated or too young to govern.

“The very same. The Imperial Court was left in disarray after the Forbidden Gate closed and His Majesty Naritsuhiko disappeared. That’s when Eiju became the young Crown Prince’s guardian.” He’d gained complete control over the Imperial Court after that.

Yellow Raven Eiju was from the Nanke family, or was at least Nanke-affiliated. He’d graduated from the Keisōin with distinction and became a Yamauchishu. Shortly after that, he was promoted and became Naritsuhiko’s vassal. His efforts shifted the balance of power toward Nanke for a long time after his death. Most emperors since then had wed Nanke duchesses or at least taken them as concubines. No historians disputed Eiju’s influence in this regard.

Sumio summarized what he’d learned about Eiju in the Keisōin’s library that day.

Yukiya hmmed thoughtfully. “It sure seems like Yellow Raven Eiju deliberately left the true Golden Raven behind so that he could seize power for himself.”

“That does seem plausible, but I don’t think that’s what happened,” Sumio said. “It’s hard to tell what actually happened then. It all happened so long ago, and the records are fairly sparse. I was here today because I wanted to look into Eiju’s history at the Keisōin. His cadet records and things like that.”

“And you didn’t find much?”

Sumio shook his head. “It’s been a century, after all. The only record I found of him is his graduation certificate. We know that he graduated first in his class. He’s the last Yellow Raven Yamauchi had, and he made plenty of reforms and new laws. We have plenty of records of his governance, but there are very few records about him that precede Naritsuhiko’s disappearance.”

“Now that you mention it, wasn’t one of his reforms an overhaul of Yamauchi’s historical records? He could have destroyed or hidden records about himself that he didn’t want seen,” Yukiya said. “Do you think he could have done that?”

“I fear he might have,” Sumio said.

Eiju only became a Yellow Raven as a direct result of abandoning his emperor. It would make sense for such a man to cover his tracks and conceal the circumstances that led to him taking power in the Imperial Court.

“Unless Nazukihiko remembers his ancestors’ memories, we might never learn the truth,” Sumio said.

Yukiya frowned. “What happened a hundred years ago? Where did Naritsuhiko go? And why didn’t he come back?”

***

After seeing Sumio off, Yukiya headed back to the classroom that he and the other cadets sometimes used for their study group. The floor was covered in despondent boys in different states of dishevelment.

“I’m back!” Yukiya announced. The room was so crowded that he risked stepping on someone if he didn’t move carefully.

“Welcome back,” a few cadets said: a rote greeting that required none of their concentrated attention. None of them looked up at Yukiya. They lacked so much animation that they might as well be corpses.

“What’s wrong, everyone?”

“We’re taking a break!”

“Noble Professor went to get something he forgot in his room. We’re resting until he comes back.”

“I can’t do this anymore. My head is about to explode.”

“You’re doing fine,” Yukiya said. “Just keep studying, and I’m sure the exams won’t be so bad.”

Time had flown by. Nearly four months had passed since the Seeds first came to the Keisōin. Cadets unable to keep up with their studies and training had started dropping out, but all of the members of Yukiya’s original study group were still here.

Yukiya picked his way carefully through the tripping hazard of sprawled cadets and found a clear space near the wall to sit down. “I tried to improve the test question predictions I made the other day. Once Akeru is back, I’ll ask him to explain them to you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Thanks, but I can’t study anymore. My head is full.”

“Please, Noble Professor, don’t come back today,” one cadet pleaded, his hands pressed together.

“Sorry.” The room’s sliding door opened, revealing Akeru. “I’m back. I could give you guys another few minutes?”

“Really?” the pleading cadet asked.

“Of course not. On your feet, you lazy louts!” Akeru shouted in a decent approximation of Instructor Kashin’s voice. “There’s no time to rest! Get to work!”

The cadets wailed and groaned as Yukiya passed Akeru the paper where he’d written down possible test questions. “Good job. I heard you forgot something yesterday?”

“I didn’t forget anything. I just didn’t think we needed to go over something so basic, so I left the easiest textbook behind. That was dumb of me, in retrospect, so I went back to get it and copied out the questions from it today.”

The cadets writhed on the ground like they were being tormented.

Then the bell rang, and everyone in the room instantly froze.

“An ambush,” a cadet whispered. All the boys who were lying down stood up.

“God dammit! We’re studying here!”

“We were taking a break, though.”

“Shige! Your ceremonial sword—don’t forget it!”

The cadets picked up their ceremonial swords and then rushed out of the room, kicking aside the desks and books in their way. They wove their feather robes anew while running as fast as they could.

The study group cadets stopped running when they reached the plaza in front of the main lecture hall. They noticed other cadets running toward them and lining up. Instructors moved through the sea of people, shouting instructions.

“Too slow! Line up by year. We’ll be taking attendance!”

Instructor Kashin’s shout made all the cadets move faster. Those who’d arrived first raised their hands as everyone else flocked behind them to form lines. Then the very last person in each line ran to the front while counting everyone in their line.

“Eight Trees present. Everyone is accounted for, excluding those absent for field training.”

“Twenty-one Saplings present. Everyone is accounted for.”

“Thirty-nine Seeds present—one person is missing.”

The moment their fellow cadet made the announcement, the Seeds froze in terror. Whoever the missing cadet was, he’d be the most unpopular cadet in the Keisōin tomorrow.

Instructor Kashin’s face went red with rage. His next yell was so loud the walls of the main lecture hall shook. “Who is missing?”

“Chihaya. Dormitory building one, room one.”

Yukiya flinched when he heard Chihaya’s name. The boy was catastrophically unsociable, but he was also incredibly talented, diligent, and a model student. It was hard for Yukiya to believe he’d be late for anything on purpose.

Instructor Kashin must have thought the same thing. Just for a second, Yukiya saw his eyelids twitch.

“Trees and Saplings, you’re dismissed. Seeds, go search for Chihaya and bring him here right now. Don’t expect me to let any of you go back to your dorms until every single Seed is accounted for. Now go!”

The Seeds scattered on the Keisōin’s grounds. They looked everywhere, even the bell tower, but they didn’t find him. The Seeds returned to the plaza in despair, only to find Chihaya there waiting for them.

Chihaya looked exhausted. He seemed to realize what had happened. He kept his face to the ground and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.

It was full dark; the Trees and Saplings had already eaten dinner. The smells from the dining hall made the poor Seeds’ stomachs rumble.

“Where were you?” Instructor Kashin asked. It wasn’t a shout or a demand. He was acting positively restrained, which only scared the assembled Seeds even more.

“Your fellow Seeds have been searching for you, screaming themselves hoarse for the last four hours. They’ll have to join marching drills without dinner, all because of you. And you have no explanation to give them?”

The Seeds glared viciously at Chihaya.

Chihaya remained silent.

Instructor Kashin sighed and then raised his head. In his usual yell, he said to the cadets, “Everyone, march to the swimming pool! Don’t stop until I say so! I’ll take the lead.”

Everyone turned around and started running. No one wasted energy by complaining. Everyone was mad at Chihaya, though. It was only a matter of time before the Seeds boiled over in rage.

***

“It’s all over for us.”

“All because Chihaya made a scene right before exam week.”

“If we end up dropping out, it’s all his fault!”

Akeru watched his fellow cadets. He had no words of encouragement to offer them. Exams were over, but no one felt relieved. Every Seed he saw was terrified about their exam grades.

“The worst part is that Chihaya still probably managed to get good grades. It’s so unfair!” Kippei spat.

Hisaya agreed with him wholeheartedly. “I heard his punishment is cleaning the whole main lecture hall by himself. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“You’re wrong. There’s no worse punishment than that,” Ichiryū said. He slid open the room’s door and stepped inside. “Hey, Seeds. Why the long faces?”

“Sapling Ichiryū,” Shigemaru said.

“Why are you here? And what do you mean, there’s no worse punishment?” Yukiya asked.

Ichiryū laughed ominously. “He has until tomorrow morning to clean it, right? But as a celebration for finishing the exams, the Trees are going to take everyone out to play tonight.”

“Play? What do you mean?”

“At this hour?”

Akeru checked outside the window. It was already dusk.

Ichiryū could barely contain his manic glee. “We’re going to a festival tonight.”

“A festival?” Akeru asked. That was good information to have. It seemed like Yukiya also understood what going to a festival tonight would mean, though most of the Seeds were still confused, including Shigemaru.

“It’s the very last day of a five-day-long summer festival. Chihaya should curse his luck—he’s not allowed to come.”

***

A Tree leading a group of cadets yelled, “It’s time for the pleasure district’s Red Light Festival!”

Seeds, Saplings, and Trees all cheered in unison.

Akeru had attended this festival before and managed to comport himself as a proper nobleman. He was a little embarrassed watching his fellow Seeds making fools of themselves in the pleasure district. The pleasure district was a beautiful place, especially during festivals, so he tried not to ruin his fellow cadets’ fun. Even he was enchanted by the sights all around him.

Lavishly decorated buildings were built on the mountain’s otherwise chaotic slope, creating a feast for the eyes. Red round lanterns hung in rows on both sides of the street. There was a red lantern motif to all the shops’ decorations as well. Pieces of silk fluttered through the air, all dyed shades of vermilion and green.

The Seeds, who’d never been to this festival, wanted to dive in right away and see everything it had to offer, but their senior cadets stopped them.

“Get rid of that stupid scarf!”

“I get that you want to show off, but wearing your feather robes is actually important here.”

“Being recognized as a Keisōin cadet gives you a popularity boost. They may even give you a gift and tell you that you can always pay them for it later.”

“That said, they don’t like it when you stink. Don’t you dare ruin our image. Keisōin cadets are perfect gentlemen with promising futures.”

After passing their seniors’ strict examination, the Seeds were finally allowed to explore the pleasure district. Lovely music drifted from the shops, creating a romantic atmosphere full of hope and wonder. Gorgeous women danced to the music on impromptu wooden stages built along the sides of the street.

The dancers noticed the cadets staring and waved playfully at them, their long sleeves fluttering in the summer breeze.

“I could die happy right now.”

“No dying, Shige.”

“Don’t stop walking, you morons. You’re blocking the way!”

Shigemaru entered a dream-like state as he wandered through the festival. He stopped at every stage to watch the dancers. Eventually, Akeru and Yukiya teamed up to push him away from the stages and get him walking again.

“It’s a shame Chihaya couldn’t come,” Hisaya said. He grinned from ear to ear as he waved at a dancer.

“He got what he deserved,” Kippei said smugly.

“I wonder where he went, though. Chihaya always has a stick up his ass. He’s not really the type to break the rules,” Tatsuto said.

Akeru agreed with Tatsuto’s assessment. The Seeds had searched the entirety of the Keisōin for Chihaya, and they still hadn’t found him. It was obvious that he’d sneaked out, but no one knew how or why.

The other cadets amused themselves with theory-crafting.

“Maybe he’s got a sick mother or dog or something.”

“If that were true, he could have just asked for permission to visit.”

“What if he went to meet a woman?”

“Chihaya? No way!”

“How can you know for sure? He never talks. I bet he has a dirty mind.”

“Everyone has a dirty mind; pure minds don’t exist.”

The cadets looked around at all the ravishing women on the street and laughed.

“Poor Chihaya. I guess we’ll have to have extra fun here on his behalf.”

“No hard feelings!”

It was the last day of the festival, so the street was packed with people. The group kept walking, going up the stairs to a courtyard at the very center of the pleasure district. A special stage had been built for the occasion. Women chosen from every brothel performed together in a grand dance. Singers and musicians lined up right behind them, performing singly or in small groups as the night wore on.

Beyond the stage was Moonwatch Tower, one of the wealthiest high-class brothels in the pleasure district.

“Oh, it’s the young masters of the Keisōin. Be welcome!”

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

Attending this festival was an annual tradition for Keisōin cadets. Moonwatch Tower was where cadets usually settled in for the evening. It served as a sort of base of operations. The brothel’s staff was ready and waiting for them.

Akeru kept his distance from his ogling friends. He noticed Yukiya doing the same; he was at least two steps away from everyone else in the brothel. His eyes were fixed on the spectators surrounding the stage.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

Akeru looked at the stage and the people surrounding it, perplexed. Then he saw a young man in a feather robe and gasped.

“Chihaya! What is he doing here?”

Chihaya was talking to a woman in hushed tones, but his gestures were full of intensity—and maybe anger? It was hard to tell what they were talking about from this distance. Akeru decided that he wanted a closer look—and answers. Chihaya was supposed to be cleaning the main lecture hall right now, after all. It was Akeru’s responsibility to report the whereabouts of truant cadets to the academy’s instructors.

“Wait, Akeru!”

Yukiya tried to stop him from approaching Chihaya, but Akeru ignored him. He dashed through the crowd, pushing spectators aside as he closed in on the backstage area with an angry shout.

“Chihaya! You little shit, what the hell are you doing!?”

Chihaya turned toward Akeru, alarmed.

Yukiya slipped behind Akeru, jumped up and covered Akeru’s mouth with his hands.

“Hey, Chihaya. What a coincidence! We didn’t expect to see you here,” Yukiya said smoothly. He didn’t let go of Akeru.

Akeru resisted, of course. What was Yukiya doing? He tried to slip free of Yukiya’s hold, but Yukiya matched his movements.

Yukiya was glaring at Akeru, not Chihaya.

“Who’s there?” a woman asked, her voice as clear as a bell. It carried surprisingly well in the crowded, noisy environment. She leaned forward slightly.

It was a girl, not a woman. She was so tiny that she looked frail. She wasn’t pretty, exactly, but her slight smile and rounded face made her appear kind. Her eyes, overshadowed by long lashes, were both closed. They looked like daffodil buds about to bloom to Akeru.

Could this girl be a courtesan that Chihaya was visiting? That was crazy; the Keisōin forbade such activities. Chihaya risked being kicked out by doing something like that. He was also ignoring his punishment; otherwise, he wouldn’t be here at all.

Akeru had a mountain of things to say to Chihaya, but Yukiya wasn’t letting him say another word.

Chihaya didn’t get a chance to say anything to Yukiya, either. The other cadets had noticed Chihaya and were calling out to him.

“Eh? That’s Chihaya!” Shigemaru said.

“What are you doing here!?” Ichiryū asked at almost the same time.

“Are these your friends?” the girl asked. She tilted her head slightly while tugging on Chihaya’s sleeve.

“Yep, that’s us!” Yukiya said brightly. “We’re Chihaya’s fellow cadets. We all go to the Keisōin together.”

Why was Yukiya going out of his way to show the girl kindness? Akeru saw no reason for him to do that.

Yukiya caught Akeru’s eye and then pointed to his own closed eyelid. He jerked his head toward the girl.

The girl hadn’t opened her eyes. Not even once. She was blind.

Only the most beautiful and accomplished courtesans worked in Moonwatch Tower. They were chosen for their looks during their youth, given a proper education, and trained in various arts. They were often just as talented and refined as the noble ladies of the Imperial Court.

Moonwatch Tower would never employ a blind girl.

Akeru noticed the kimono she wore. It was slightly nicer than what the festival attendees wore, but it was too plain and unadorned to be a courtesan’s costume.

So she wasn’t a courtesan.

Yukiya finally let Akeru go. To the girl, he said, “Sorry for the commotion. Chihaya insisted that he wasn’t going to the pleasure district back at the Keisōin, so we’re kinda surprised to see him here.”

Neither Shigemaru nor Ichiryū said more. They’d probably noticed the girl’s blindness and guessed that there was more to this situation than met the eye.

“Oh, I see!” the girl said. She bowed awkwardly in greeting. “I’m Yui. It’s very nice to meet you all. Thanks for being friends with my older brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister!” Shigemaru said. He looked back and forth between Chihaya and Yui, making unspoken comparisons. The siblings didn’t look very much alike.

“Hey, were you also visiting your sister that other time?” Ichiryū asked.

Chihaya didn’t answer Ichiryū’s question, but Yui did. “He does visit me sometimes. I live in the Valley, so we can’t always visit each other. I sing and play the biwa, so they asked me to help with the main stage during the festival.^

^ I was selfish and asked him if we could meet while we were both in the city. Did he get in trouble for that? I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Yui,” Yukiya said with artificial cheer. “Everything’s just fine.”

“Yeah,” Ichiryū said. “Of course. Right, Akeru?” Ichiryū’s warning was tantamount to threatening Akeru as his senior.

Akeru sighed. “They’re right. Chihaya’s doing fine in the Keisōin. No one’s in trouble.”

They all briefly introduced themselves. Chihaya remained sullenly silent, but he no longer appeared frightened. He was looking around at everyone’s faces, noticing their reactions to his sister and his presence here.

Ichiryū pointed toward the entrance of Moonwatch Tower. “Well, guys, it’s been fun, but we’ve got to be getting back. We’ve all got classes tomorrow, after all. We’ll take our leave. It was nice to meet you, miss.”

“You, too! Sorry for keeping you,” Yui said. She bowed her head.

Ichiryū wrapped his arm around Chihaya’s neck, forcefully pulling their faces closer together. “We saw nothing,” he said in a voice barely heard. Then he lifted his head away from Chihaya. “Well then, let’s go. See you, Yui!”

Yukiya and Shigemaru said goodbye to Yui as well. Yukiya and Shigemaru each grabbed one of Akeru’s arms and half-dragged him away from Yui and Chihaya.

Ichiryū cleared his throat. “Now, what did you all see?”

“A lady on the stage,” Shigemaru said.

“She was so pretty!” Yukiya added.

“She was a dancer. Even Shigemaru and I, who came to find Akeru, were captivated by her,” Ichiryū added.

The three of them turned toward Akeru.

“Got it, Akeru? That’s all that happened.”

***

After Yukiya and the others walked away, Chihaya sighed deeply. “Sorry about that. They’re an unruly bunch, and you must be tired from all the work you did today.”

“I’m fine! Actually, I’m glad I could talk to them. I didn’t know you had such fun friends!”

“They aren’t my friends.”

“You’re saying that again? You’re so stubborn, and you’re not a good liar.” Yui chuckled.

Chihaya’s chest felt tight. He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Another musician dressed similarly to Yui came over to her. “It’s your turn.”

Chihaya didn’t want to let her go yet, but he helped guide Yui backstage. “I’m on summer break starting tomorrow.”

“I know. You’ll be working as a live-in servant, right? Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” Yui smiled, but she looked lonely.

“I’ll come visit as much as I can.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can take time off.”

“I’ll be waiting, then.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too, brother. Keep calm and keep going.” She smiled. “I don’t want to hear about you doing anything rash.”

Chihaya picked up Yui’s biwa from where she’d left it nearby and passed it to her. She walked out onto the stage. The musicians waiting there gave him a grateful nod.

Chihaya turned and left before Yui had finished taking her place on the stage. He hadn’t expected Ichiryū and the others to find out about Yui. He couldn’t know for sure if they were being honest with him, but at least they’d promised to keep quiet about it. He had to get back to the Keisōin before any other cadets saw him here. He took back alleys to avoid being seen.

The festival’s hustle and bustle faded behind him as he walked. The shops used these backstreets to store their usual signage and equipment during the festival. Signboards, bamboo poles for hanging lanterns, broken lanterns, and dishes were scattered everywhere.

It would be hard to walk through the mess, but the streets were lit brightly enough for him to see his way forward. The scent of cooking oil washed over him—he was in smell of a kitchen.

Chihaya felt like he was being followed. He stopped. Someone was watching him. He spun around fast enough to catch sight of a shadowy figure panicking and fleeing behind a building.

“What do you want?” Chihaya asked.

He heard a gasp. A moment later, Akeru came out of the shadows.

“Why are you following me? To ambush me?”

“Nothing so dishonorable. I just wanted to talk to you without anyone else around,” Akeru said awkwardly.

“Talk?”

“Yes. I was taught physiognomy as part of my education for the Imperial Court.”

Chihaya looked at him with suspicion. What was he trying to say?

Akeru frowned sourly. “That girl and you. You aren’t related, right?”

“What?”

“I can tell just by looking at you two. Siblings don’t always look alike, but they always have some physical resemblance to one another. But you and that girl look totally different. Am I wrong?”

Akeru already knew Chihaya had a sister; he’d learned that when his followers had investigated Chihaya’s background after the duel. But Yui and Chihaya were clearly unrelated. Akeru explained what he’d found in Chihaya’s family registry and asked if it might have been forged.

“You’re lying to us, aren’t you?”

Chihaya didn’t answer. He couldn’t tell what Akeru was thinking.

Akeru’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re in the Keisōin under a false name—a false identity. What the hell are you planning?”

“That’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Now that I know about it, it does! Tell me why! I’ll have to tell the Keisōin instructors otherwise!” Akeru’s face fell. “I don’t want to be your enemy.”

“It sure seems like you do,” Chihaya said. “You followed me and investigated me. That’s not something a friend would do.”

“Why are you still going on about that? If you aren’t going to give me any answers, then I’ll have to ask her instead.” Akeru turned his back to Chihaya.

Chihaya pulled his ceremonial sword free of his belt and grabbed the weapon, scabbard and all. He didn’t hesitate—he swung downward, aiming for the back of Akeru’s head.

The scabbard dug into the wall of the nearest building with a loud thump.

Akeru had barely managed to twist his body out of the way before the ceremonial sword made contact with his head. He stared at Chihaya in disbelief. “What did you…”

Akeru was too stunned to even think about drawing his own blade. A palace raven like him probably couldn’t even imagine a mountain raven actually pointing his weapon at him. They’re all the same, Chihaya thought.

Anger roiled inside Chihaya. Rage always made him calm and cautious. Some part of him pitied Akeru for lacking the life experience he needed to defend himself in this situation. He hadn’t even tried to counterattack.

As Chihaya raised his ceremonial sword to strike Akeru again, Yukiya rushed into the alley. “Wait!” he cried out. “Wait, Chihaya!” He opened his arms wide, standing in front of Chihaya to protect Akeru.

“Get out of the way.”

“Nope.”

“I grant no mercy to anyone who would harm Yui.”

“That’s not Akeru’s intention. You’re not gonna kill him, right? Calm down.” Yukiya tried to push down Chihaya’s weapon.

Chihaya shook him off by reflex, breaking Yukiya’s balance. The boy cried out as he stumbled. He reached out to Chihaya’s sleeve and grabbed it.

Chihaya felt a tingle as the muscles of his arm contracted. He barely had time to notice the pain. Yukiya twisted his wrist and then pulled the ceremonial sword from his hand.

Chihaya didn’t think—he kicked the ground, jumping free of Yukiya’s grasp and turning around.

This little bastard, Chihaya thought. He moved to strike Yukiya in the face with the back of his hand as he spun.

Yukiya ducked low. He extended one leg in an attempt to trip Chihaya, but that didn’t work—Chihaya had enough room to leap away. He backed up two or three steps to recover his balance as Yukiya tumbled backwards.

Yukiya was back on his feet almost instantly.

Chihaya and Yukiya faced one another wordlessly and out of breath, watching warily for the next move. Yukiya wasn’t standing in a typical fighting stance. He was lower to the ground, making him more difficult to shift. Chihaya hadn’t seen Yukiya fight in that stance before, but it looked like it would be effective and practical. Yukiya’s grounded stance would work against Chihaya’s superior height, and the end result would probably be them both on the ground with their clothes and faces full of back alley trash.

After that short pause, Chihaya went on the offensive.

He threw a straight punch that Yukiya blocked with the palm of his hand, grazing Chihaya’s fist. Chihaya realized that Yukiya was planning to grab his arm again, so he used the momentum of the punch to pull him up and forward. He aimed a roundhouse kick at Yukiya’s temple. Yukiya bent his upper body slightly to dodge.

Then Chihaya was off-balance, but Yukiya didn’t exploit that. Oddly enough, he backed off immediately.

Yukiya was intentionally letting him attack first and aiming for his joints. He’d dodge Chihaya’s attacks and then strike small, vulnerable places to lock up his joints and exhaust his energy. This was a dirty way to fight, not honorable at all, but there was no doubt that it was effective.

Chihaya watched Yukiya’s movements, noting his exceptional reaction time. He seemed to know where the next strike was coming from before Chihaya even started moving. He tried another attack.

Yukiya blocked it. Yukiya blocked everything. He slid Chihaya’s ceremonial sword out of his hands and tossed it further down the alley.

Chihaya was wearing himself down against Yukiya’s precise strikes. Aching and sore, his anger retreated from him. This wasn’t a fight he could win.

It was hard to believe that Chihaya was losing to Yukiya in a fight. Yukiya never won his duels in the dojo. He rarely won at sparring… but winning against him was difficult. He was hard to hit for everyone, not just for Chihaya.

Chihaya was used to defeating his opponents without much effort. It was rare for him to struggle this much just to land one hit. Yukiya might be the only Keisōin cadet that I can’t hit, Chihaya thought grimly. A shiver went down his spine.

Yukiya almost grappled him.

Chihaya clicked his tongue as he jumped back.

They glared at each other.

“Are you done yet?” Ichiryū asked in an irritated tone.

Yukiya forced a smile as he gasped for air. “I mean, sure? I only wanted to talk.”

“That’s a lie. You’re enjoying this,” Ichiryū shot back.

“There’s not much room for enjoyment when you’re facing the Seeds’ best martial artist.” Yukiya took a deep breath and smoothly returned to his low stance.

Chihaya made himself take a look at this situation from the outside. It all struck him as vaguely ridiculous. Chihaya and Yukiya were fighting in the street while Ichiryū watched them, sitting on a pile of lumber. Akeru watched them from the opposite side of the street, silent and apprehensive.

“Yukiya! If you can move like that, how about doing it during class, huh?” Shigemaru complained. He was sitting on the same lumber pile as Ichiryū, in the shadows.

“Don’t bother encouraging him,” Ichiryū said, resigned. “This is his specialty. He pretends to be weak, letting his opponent attack over and over again to tire themselves out. Then he beats the shit out of them.” Ichiryū’s eyes were dark and terrifying.

Shigemaru gasped. “He beat the shit out of you?”

“Yeah. I picked a fight with him once. He beat me up so badly that it changed my outlook on life.”

“So that’s why you were so scared on our first day…” Shigemaru’s tone was redolent with sympathy.

Yukiya’s ceremonial sword was in his hands, sheathed. Yukiya meant him no harm, not really. Chihaya had known that from the start.

Akeru stood a few steps behind Yukiya, as pale as a sheet. The boy had used the chance to run away from him. Chihaya had calmed down, but he hadn’t forgiven Akeru for what he’d said. Chihaya glared at him, making Akeru tremble in fear.

“It was his mistake to word it like a threat, but Akeru isn’t a bad guy. Here.” Yukiya picked up Chihaya’s ceremonial sword and offered it back to him. “He says things that come out wrong sometimes. I think that’s his sister’s influence. He’s kind to women in general. If you’d asked him not to talk to Yui, he wouldn’t have. And he definitely wouldn’t force Yui to answer any of his questions.”

“I get that you lost your temper, but you shouldn’t hit others with the ceremonial sword,” Ichiryū said. “It may look like a normal sword, but we’re not supposed to use them to hurt people.”

Just how long had they all been listening? What had they all heard? Did it matter?

Chihaya sighed. “Yui doesn’t know,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Yukiya asked.

“She doesn’t know that we aren’t blood-related.”

***

“Kō, is that you out there?” the woman called out to him cajolingly.

Kō jumped. “Is the egg okay? Don’t you need to warm it up?”

“It’ll be fine. It’s just for a little while. That said, I’m sure you’ve been told not to come here.” She smiled.

Kō ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good boy. Come in. I’ll give you special permission for today.”

Boys weren’t supposed to enter the maternity room. All new eggs were laid there, and there they would remain until the new nestlings hatched. Kō knew that there were no boys allowed, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Nui was the daughter of family friends. She’d gotten married a few months ago and laid her first egg soon after. Her husband was a farmer and another acquaintance. It didn’t feel like much had changed since Nui’s marriage. Everyone was always talking about how Nui would be a mother soon, but Kō didn’t really understand what that meant.

The maternity room’s floor was covered in sun-warmed straw. Kō poked his head inside cautiously. Mothers spent most of their time in raven form after laying their eggs. Nui sat in the middle of the room, resting with her egg in her lap. She was in her human form at the moment.

“You can touch the egg if you want, Kō. You’ll be this baby’s honorary older brother, after all.”

Kō reached out to the egg, tracing the white shell gently with his entire palm. The eggshell was slightly rough to the touch. Sunlight spilled in through the skylight and windows, making the shell shine a milky white. The color reminded Kō of very pale skin.

“So the baby comes out of the egg?” Kō asked.

“Yes! But chicks aren’t born with their down feathers, so they won’t be cute. At least not at first.”

“I knew that already.” Kō had once seen newborn sparrow chicks. They’d looked like pale pink lizards to him. When he’d checked on them a few days later, they’d become much fluffier. “Nui, you took care of me when I was a chick, too, didn’t you? Mom told me! She said it’s my turn to watch over your baby.”

“I see. You’ll be a very responsible older brother, Kō.”

“And you’ll be a responsible mom, too!” Kō said brightly.

Nui gently caressed her egg, her eyes full of love.

That was when Kō understood what being a mother would mean for Nui.

After that day, Kō sneaked into the maternity room at least a few times a week. He spent most of his days gathering cotton in the fields with the other farmers, but he was short and small, so he could usually sneak away for a little while without anyone noticing that he was gone.

Kō’s childhood was impoverished and characterized by hard work, but he would still call those days happy. There were problems under the surface, of course, but his parents did a good job of shielding him from trouble. He was born in Hae Province in Nanke Territory. The province was famous for its cotton production. It had the best climate for growing cotton in all of Yamauchi. Almost all of the cotton used to clothe Souke Territory’s citizenry originated in Nanke Territory.

The family that owned the cotton fields where Kō’s family worked was the wealthiest in the province and had the Territory’s largest fields. They’d come from Souke Territory generations ago and were known for the splendid quality of the cotton goods they produced. Nobles from other provinces greatly respected them.

Perhaps this wealthy family would earn less respect if how they treated their workforce was more widely known. Farmers all worked under the family, renting the land they worked from their lord. No one ever escaped this work loop; all owners of large fields operated in a similar way. Kō and his family were feudal serfs in all but name. The wealthy family saw their workers as slaves, not as fellow Yatagarasu.

The worst member of this wealthy family, by far, was the landowner’s only son. He took things out of workers’ hands if he wanted them for himself and never returned anything. He kidnapped people, including the farmers’ wives and daughters. These crimes would be punished elsewhere, but everyone turned a blind eye here. Sometimes he victimized people beyond his family’s land holdings as well, though this was rare.

One day, just when their egg was about to hatch, Nui’s husband was taken away.

That day, Kō was helping with the harvest in the fields. The farmers were spread out, working in different sections. A strange group of men spilled out of the landowner’s residence. They immediately captured Nui’s husband, who clearly had no idea what was happening.

The strange men shouted, “Where can we find this man’s family?”

Something was wrong. Turning his back on their angry yelling, Kō secretly left the fields behind. He ran toward the maternity room—to Nui.

Nui was in her raven form incubating her egg when Kō rushed in. She saw Kō standing there out of breath and instantly transformed into her human shape.

“Kō? What’s wrong?”

Kō didn’t know how to explain. He barely understood what was happening himself. “Nui! Some strange men came and they took your husband with them.”

“They took my husband?” Nui whispered. Her face went pale.

“They’re also looking for you, Nui.”

Nui quickly stood up and took a cloth hanging from the wall. She wrapped the egg in it. “Kō, we have to leave. Right now.”

“But your egg! Isn’t it bad if it gets cold right before hatching?”

Nui shook her head before Kō finished asking his question. “They might kill this child if the egg stays here.” Nui covered the wrapped egg with a layer of straw and then wrapped more cloth around it. Then she used another strip of cloth to tie a strap to the egg, which she slung around the front of her body. Carefully, she shifted the egg to her back, making sure it wouldn’t slip free of its wrappings.

Her work was interrupted by noise just outside the maternity room. Kō pressed his eye against a small hole in the wall. There were well-dressed men outside.

“Nui, look!”

Nui peeked through the hole and then stepped back, reeling. She was frozen, her egg resting on her back.

“It’s hopeless. They’ll get us as soon as we leave. We have no time,” she whispered. Her shoulders shook. “I have to do something!”

Kō extended his hand to support her, egg and all.

Nui’s eyes opened wide. Wordlessly, she removed the egg from her own back and started securing it to Kō’s back instead.

“Nui, what are you doing?”

Nui’s hands kept moving.

“Listen. There’s a loose floorboard. I won’t fit under the floor, but you and the egg are small enough. You must hurry back to your mother’s house. Don’t let anyone else find you.”

“To my mother’s? Not to your house, Nui?”

Nui nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. You must not go to my house, no matter what. Understood?” Nui asked him. Her face was terrifying in that moment: frightened and determined all at once.

Kō gave her a firm nod. “Yes.”

“You’re a good boy, Kō.”

Nui stuck her fingers into the gap between two floorboards and pulled one of them out. They passed the egg through the hole first. Kō crawled in right after it.

Before Nui placed the floorboard back in its place, Kō saw her eyes one last time. She was crying. “Kō, please take care of my child.”

The floorboard closed over Kō and the egg with a muffled thump, and then there was darkness.

Kō heard knocking and shouting at the maternity room’s door. “Is Shōji’s wife here? Come out right now!”

“Who’s out there? Men aren’t allowed in maternity rooms. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? I’m in no fit state to go anywhere,” Nui yelled. She sounded annoyed, not frightened.

“The wives of criminals are no longer Yatagarasu,” he spat back.

A lower, calmer voice added, “Nui, you have to come out. If you don’t, they’ll burn this place with you in it.”

Kō had been busy tying the egg to his back again, trying to make as little noise as possible. The idea of fire here horrified him. He also recognized the second man’s voice.

“Master?” Nui asked.

“I’ll ask you once more. Come out.”

There was a silence, and then Kō heard the sliding door open. In the meantime, he confirmed the egg was secure and started to move. He came out of the back of the maternity room under the foundation and hid in some shrubbery just behind the building. He saw men moving inside the maternity room through the windows.

“Where’s the egg?” one of the men asked.

“I was in here because it’s my time of the month. I don’t have an egg.”

“Mm,” the man said with clear indifference.

“Why make a scene here, in all places?” Nui asked. “Since when is Shōji a criminal? I can’t believe that.”

“Your husband assaulted and robbed a guest of the residence last evening.”

“What? My husband would never do such a thing!” Nui yelled.

“For a mountain raven, the penalty for the murder of a village raven is death. His relatives are to be excommunicated.”

They were telling Nui that she would become a horse against her will.

“Wait! There has to be some misunderstanding,” Nui said.

“Take your raven form now, girl. We don’t have all day. There are more people left to punish.”

“Are you planning to cut my third leg right here!? The provincial governor hasn’t even investigated the case, has he?”

“The provincial governor has entrusted me with this case. I’ve already completed my investigation and assessment. All that’s left is catching the criminals and punishing them.”

The man who said this wasn’t anything like the rude, angry men who’d first approached the maternity room. He oozed arrogance. The clothing he wore could have bought half the fields that Kō worked in every day. They were dyed light indigo—a dye so expensive that Kō hadn’t seen that color of fabric before today.

This man was Nui’s master, and Kō’s—the owner of the entire estate.

Nui’s gaze was fixed on the stone-faced landowner. “You’re monsters.”

The landowner shrugged. “It’s the law. Give up. If you still refuse to take raven form, I don’t mind putting you down right here instead.”

The rude men accompanying the landowner drew their swords.

Nui transformed into a raven, screaming. Four of the men moved to hold her down by the wings and two of her legs, exposing the third. She writhed in pain. Another soldier raised his sword.

With a single merciless slash, Nui’s third leg was cut away.

Nui’s pained screams echoed in Kō’s ears as he fled. He would never forget that day, not ever.

***

Kō didn’t remember how he got home after that. He knew that he’d stuck to the bushes and trees to remain hidden, but he hadn’t paid very much attention to where he was going. His entire focus was on protecting the egg and avoiding discovery.

The memory of Nui screaming in pain as her bloody leg fell to the floor lingered, surfacing at unpredictable times and making him freeze. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. It wasn’t safe to do either of those things. The last thing he saw before fleeing the maternity room was Nui with a rope around her neck. The landowner would take her back to the residence, and after that, he would never see Nui again.

The chick born from Nui’s egg became Kō’s little sister.

Maybe it was because the egg wasn’t warm enough just before hatching, but the girl—Yui—was very frail. Her eyesight was limited; she was barely able to make out light from dark. While the other farmers probably guessed her real identity, nobody ever mentioned it.

Shōji was beheaded after that. He wasn’t even given a chance to explain himself. His parents were excommunicated. It was obvious to everyone that he’d been wrongly accused.

If the landowner ever found out that Shōji’s daughter was still alive, she would be taken and excommunicated just like the rest of his relatives. There were rats among the farmers, people selfish enough to be the landowner’s eyes, but even they didn’t stoop so low as to sell out a poor little girl who would probably die soon anyway.

The landowner’s son’s tyranny only worsened after that terrible day. Violence became a daily occurrence in the fields. Many workers were forced to become horses based on increasingly flimsy pretexts.

The overworked farmers became ill and desperate. Many tried to run, and when they were inevitably caught, they were executed for disobedience and their families were excommunicated.

Soon, there were too few workers to make the fields productive. More Yatagarasu arrived from elsewhere to replace the old workforce. Kō was too young to know for certain where they came from, but he heard rumors that the provincial governor was responsible for sending the new farmers.

The farmers had nowhere to go. Their days were spent slowly waiting for death. Yui wasn’t even five years old when Kō’s parents died. His mother had fallen ill from overwork, and his father took a break to take care of her. He was excommunicated. Shaken by his loss, Kō’s mother had died of grief. Kō’s father—now a horse forever—was taken away. He had no idea where.

Kō and Yui were raised and protected by the other farmers as a matter of necessity. Despite their horrifying circumstances, Yui grew into a cheerful and gentle little girl. She’d always try her best to do any job within her capacity. She’d often sing while separating cotton seeds from the fibers, her voice like a lark’s. Everyone loved her, not just Kō. Kō told himself that he could endure anything as long as she was happy.

And then the landowner’s son had assaulted Yui and changed everything.

Yui was only eight years old at the time.

Those were the actions of a beast, not a person. Kō had often wished that the landowner’s family would die, but this was the first time he’d ever wanted to kill someone with his own hands. He took a rock as big as a fist and smashed the man’s head in. Then he fled into the mountains with Yui.

The first days of their flight were hard. They drank swamp water and ate wild fruit from gnarled mountain trees. Kō feared every step forward, but he was also relieved to be in a place where he and Yui weren’t in danger of being beaten or worse. He saw horses with soldiers on their backs fly over them many times, his anxiety skyrocketing whenever he noticed them combing the hills in search of them.

Kō found that life as a fugitive suited him far more than his previous life as a farmer. He worried sometimes about the people he’d left behind, though. What had happened to the people who’d told them to escape? Was the landowner’s son really dead? How would he take care of Yui now? He was so worried for her, but he never said a word about that. He didn’t want Yui to worry, too.

The provincial governor and the landowner were close friends. Everyone in the area knew that much. Kō could tell them that the landowner’s son was to blame and that Yui was his victim, but he knew that he would not be spared from the law’s cruel justice. Neither would Yui. If they ever returned, they would both be killed. The best they could hope for was excommunication.

Kō didn’t care about what would happen to him, not really, but he wanted to save Yui no matter what that cost him.

Ten days after they first ran away from the cotton fields, their pursuers finally caught up to them. Kō resisted to no avail—he was knocked unconscious. By the time he woke up again, he was trapped inside a prison cell. Yui was nowhere to be seen.

He yelled, calling for Yui. Nobody came. He shouted himself hoarse, and nobody came. It looked like he was somewhere underground. There was no light source anywhere, so it was impossible to guess the time. He didn’t know how long he spent in the darkness, shouting and desperate, before a light appeared.

“Where’s Yui?” Kō asked. He gripped the bars of his cell and squeezed.

“You have a lot of energy. You never stop shouting,” a man said. He carried a lit candle in one hand.

Kō couldn’t make out much of the man’s appearance; the candlelight was too weak. “If you put a finger on my sister, I’ll kill you!”

“Fine, fine. I’m not sure you realize the position you’re in.” The man gestured expansively. “That is to say, you’re not exactly placed well to issue threats, are you? If you care about your sister, you should cooperate.”

Kō swallowed down the angry yell that nearly spilled out of him and gave the man a cold glare.

“Now, now, relax. We’re keeping the girl in a much nicer place than this. She isn’t eating, though. She’s very worried about you.”

So Yui was safe. Kō relaxed a little when he heard that. Even so, he had no reason to be optimistic about their situation.

“Oh, I almost forgot. About that idiot you attacked—”

Kō held his breath.

“He survived.”

Kō found it difficult to describe how he felt when the man told him that. He wished that the landowner’s son was dead, even if that meant he’d be executed. The fact that he was alive meant that Kō might also live… but the kind of life he’d have made him feel cold and empty and abandoned. Better to die if it meant a man like that was dead… but he wasn’t. So what would happen now?

Kō’s main concern was still Yui’s safety. He would die to save her if he had to.

“You care about your sister a lot,” the man said. He smiled slightly.

Kō glared at him. “What will happen to Yui?”

“That depends on you.”

“On me?”

“Indeed,” the man answered. His grin widened. “I could help you, if you like.” His teeth shone yellow-white in the light of the candle.

Kō didn’t learn about this until much later, but the soldiers who’d caught him and Yui in the mountains weren’t the provincial governor’s forces. In fact, the place they were in wasn’t the Hae provincial governor’s main residence, but one of the outposts protected by the Lord of Nanke’s army.

Rumors of the siblings who’d managed to evade capture for ten whole days were a popular topic of discussion among Nanke’s government officials. Kō had also fought well enough to impress the men who’d captured him. Members of the Nanke family who’d been present during their capture had commented on Kō’s talent.

“A Yamauchishu… captured us?” Kō asked.

“The imperial family’s guards, yes. You made quite the impression fighting off all those soldiers. It would be a waste to excommunicate someone with potential like yours. So, as long as you’re willing, I’ll prepare a new census registration for both you and your sister.”

“Why?”

“You were only trying to save your sister, weren’t you? The landowner, his son, and the provincial governor are the ones to blame for neglecting their duties and abusing their people. Your actions are worthy of commendation, not punishment. You’re worth saving.”

Kō couldn’t believe what the man was saying. It sounded too good to be true. “You’re a palace raven. Why would you side with someone like me, someone who’s harmed a fellow palace raven?”

“That landowner is a self-proclaimed palace raven. He lost his noble status a long time ago,” the man said. “A true palace raven highly treasures those under his wings. It’s our fundamental duty. You could say that it’s what makes us who we are.” He spoke quietly, almost reverently. “There’s no higher honor for us than sponsoring someone like you to become a Yamauchishu.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone who protects those under your wings. Yes. So, do you want to give it a try?”

There was no reason to refuse the deal. Kō accepted the man’s offer and was let out of prison. He and his sister were given fine clothes and rooms in the nearby Nanke estate. They could eat delicious food and bathe every day.

“That’s a lot better.” The man nodded with satisfaction as he looked over the siblings after their first bath and meal. “You have been reborn, here in this place. We must prepare your new family registry, so I’ll think up a new name for you.”

“Does Yui need a new name, too?” Kō asked.

The man smiled softly. “We can keep it as ‘Yui’ if you like. It’s just a girl’s name, after all. It won’t be too much of an issue. The actual problem is your name.”

“But I don’t care about it.”

“That won’t do. Your name is Kō, right?” the man asked, his chin resting on his hand.

“The master gave me that name when my parents had just arrived at the cotton fields, or so I’ve been told.”

“And that’s why it’ll be better to change it.” The man stared into space for a short while, and then he nodded to himself. “Let’s make your name Chihaya, then. To wish for good fortune in battle.”

Kō became Chihaya from then on.

Their savior was Yasuchika, the Lord of the Minami Tachibana family. The Minami Tachibana family were vassals of the Nanke family, and their main estate was built close to the Lord of Nanke’s main estate. Chihaya and Yui were given rooms in the Lord of Nanke’s estate, not Yasuchika’s, which showed how closely Nanke and Minami Tachibana were allied.

“My youngest son is preparing to enroll in the Keisōin as well,” Yasuchika told Chihaya. “Go and learn with him. If you both manage to become part of the Yamauchishu, you’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good. I’ll be entrusting my son’s safety in the Keisōin to you.”

Kimichika was Yasuchika’s youngest son.

Chihaya felt indebted to the Minami Tachibana family and was determined to reciprocate, so he did his best to get along with Kimichika. Kimichika was a spoiled brat, but he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the landowner’s vile son.

The Minami Tachibana were high nobility, so Chihaya and Yui lived in luxury. He had no complaints about the food or clothes given to them. He thought that the Minami Tachibana family were good people as a rule—or at least, better people than he was used to serving. They were capable of mercy.

Chihaya’s naivete didn’t last long.

***

“What do you mean, my lord?” Chihaya and Yui had been summoned by Yasuchika. “You’re sending Yui to the Valley?!”

“Calm down, Chihaya. I have no plans to make her work as a prostitute.” Yasuchika smoked his pipe, blowing rings. “And you’re misunderstanding me. I’m not sending her to a brothel; she’s going to an entertainment parlor. It’s where artists who’ve retired from the pleasure districts live and prostitutes-to-be train their artistic skills.”

To Chihaya, those were the same thing. He saw no difference between an entertainment parlor and a brothel.

“Think about it. Yui can’t do much here at the mansion due to her eyesight. In the entertainment parlor, there are people who can teach her how to sing and play the biwa. If she learns those, she could find a job.”

“And where would she find a job outside the brothels? Even if she only plans to work in one as a musician, if a guest asked for her, she wouldn’t be in a position to refuse.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. This entertainment parlor is backed by the Minami Tachibana family and only exists to provide workers for our brothels. We don’t own actual brothels in the Valley.” He shrugged. “Besides, she is a blind mountain raven. No palace raven would consider her to be a woman worth noticing.”

Chihaya was at a loss for words.

Yui bowed her head. “Please, let me go.”

“Yui!” Chihaya yelled in consternation.

“There’s no work for me here. It’s been bothering me for quite a while. I want to make myself useful.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yasuchika said. “I’ll have you go after the preparations are complete. That’s all I had to say. You can go.” He set his pipe down and moved to his writing desk.

Chihaya walked with Yui back to their rooms. “Why did you tell him you wanted to go yourself? You’ve no idea what you just agreed to!”

“There’s no ginning for me to do here. I don’t have any other skills but singing. I also want to do something for you.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” Chihaya shouted.

Yui flinched. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“Shut up and listen to me. You don’t understand what’s going on here.”

“Your little sister seems to have a much better grasp on the situation than you do,” Kimichika cut in.

Chihaya’s mouth snapped shut. “Lord Kimichika.”

“Those who don’t work don’t eat, you know. My father is the one who decides whether or not your sister stays here, not you.” Kimichika walked down the hallway toward them with his arms folded. “It’s a palace raven’s duty to provide for the unfortunate, but charity isn’t free. There was no point in saving you both if you’re going to be a drain on resources. Yui is useless here, which means she can’t stay here. Where can she be useful? That’s why my father decided to send her to the entertainment parlor.”

“Shut up,” Chihaya said. He’d never fought with Kimichika before. “Life has done nothing but take from Yui since she was born. Now she’ll be forced to sell her body, too? No. I won’t stand for it.”

Kimichika was utterly indifferent to Chihaya’s anger. “And? Since when do your circumstances concern me? The Minami Tachibana family took pity on you. You have no right to complain. In fact, you should be thanking us.”

That was when Chihaya knew that all palace ravens were the same. He hadn’t found a better life for himself and Yui. All he’d gotten for them was a slightly larger cage. The Minami Tachibana family was wealthier than the landowner and had more scraps to give away, but that was the only difference Chihaya saw.

“I wonder. Had you been born a mountain raven, would you have said the same?”

Chihaya’s heartbroken question was met with Kimichika’s confusion. “What are you blabbering about? I’m not a mountain raven.”

Palace ravens and mountain ravens were different species to people like Kimichika. They weren’t at all the same.

***

“So I decided to never expect anything out of them,” Chihaya said.

After the fight, they’d hurried back to the Keisōin. Fortunately, none of the instructors had noticed Chihaya’s absence. Chihaya hadn’t had time to clean the main lecture hall yet, of course.

The cadets all decided to work together on cleaning the main lecture hall. Chihaya told them his story while they worked. Night had turned into morning by the time Chihaya finished his story.

“It’s like Akeru said, we’re not blood-related. But she’s still my sister. Kimichika brings her up every chance he gets. If I openly defy him, I have no idea what he’ll do.” Yui was Kimichika’s hostage. “But I know now that you guys wouldn’t harm a woman, at least.”

The cadets paused in their cleaning, rags in hand. Chihaya had just said that he trusted them.

“I expect you all to leave Yui and me alone.” Chihaya gathered everyone’s rags in a bucket and left the main lecture hall.

Akeru sat on the floor. He remembered the offer he’d made to Chihaya and felt the blood drain from his face. He understood the Minami Tachibana family’s reasoning all too well.

“Yukiya,” Akeru said, staring at the wooden floor. “You asked me once what would happen if I became His Imperial Highness’ vassal and made a terrible mistake.”

“I did.”

“I tried to use my power in the right way this time, but I still made a mistake.”

Yukiya gave him a meaningful look. “Go on.”

Akeru shook his head sadly. “Saving him shouldn’t incur a debt.” Akeru understood that Chihaya felt used. All he’d wanted was to be saved from a terrible situation that the wealthy and privileged had placed him in in the first place. Nothing about Chihaya’s situation was fair. Akeru had tried to help out of halfhearted benevolence. He’d assumed that Chihaya would be grateful to him. He’d expected reciprocation—to make use of Chihaya somehow. That expectation had been subconscious, but that didn’t make it better.

Yasuchika had asked Chihaya to become a Yamauchishu in exchange for his help. Akeru had offered Chihaya his aid out of goodwill. They’d both offered the same thing in different packaging.

Sunlight shone through the door Chihaya had left open. Its radiance was almost blinding. “I can help him as an equal, or I can use him as a noble. I see no other options.”

Ichiryū and Shigemaru said nothing to this. Yukiya smiled slightly. “And you’re gonna try the first option?”

“I’m a noble. I can’t change who I am.” Akeru paused. “I only have one option, don’t I?” Akeru glanced sideways at Yukiya, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“I see. You can leave the paperwork to me. I’ll need your money, though. What’s our budget, Akeru?”

“As much as you need.”

“Nobles are terrifying,” Shigemaru said. “Even when they’re trying to be nice and dependable. Still.”

“You’d better not be planning anything too crazy,” Ichiryū said.

“Sapling Ichiryū, are you saying you won’t help?”

“I never said that,” Ichiryū said. “I wouldn’t be a real man if I stepped down while others stepped up around me.”

“Ichiryū is awesome,” Shigemaru said.

Yukiya nodded to the Sapling in gratitude. “That makes things easier for us. It would be hard for Seeds to defy orders from a Sapling. Now our project has a suitable figurehead.”

Ichiryū frowned. “Wait, what?”

Yukiya said the most terrifying things with a smile.

***

“Hey, Chihaya! Hurry up, we need you in the parlor.”

Chihaya was drawing water from the well. He stopped what he was doing and faced the man who’d come to fetch him. He’d never gotten an order to go to the parlor before.

“There’s a customer who’s interested in you,” the man said.

“What?” Chihaya was caught completely off-guard.

“Don’t worry.” The man laughed. " He doesn’t want you for that. He’s a naïve young lord from Touke. He said he wanted to chat with someone his age working at the inn. I told him it was a bad idea, that you weren’t the talkative sort, but he said that was fine with him.”

Chihaya had no way to refuse. The man owned the inn where he was working during the summer. He headed to the parlor.

The people waiting in the room were familiar. Chihaya was sorely tempted to turn on his heel and escape.

“Wait! Wait!”

“Don’t run away!”

Shigemaru and Yukiya stopped Chihaya before he could leave. They were dressed as servants from a good family. Akeru was dressed as a young lord. He sat in the middle of the parlor like he owned the place. He wore a luxurious long-sleeved kimono decorated with a flying phoenix pattern. The hakama were striped in five different colors. Chihaya had never seen such an eclectic outfit before. He wondered if nobles from Touke actually dressed like that. The outfit was tacky beyond belief.

“Is that what you wear outside the Keisōin?”

“No way, you idiot! This is a disguise,” Akeru said. He blushed a bit and looked away.

“He’s a merchant who struck it rich in Touke,” Shigemaru said. “That’s the story.”

Chihaya examined Akeru more closely. He’d dyed his red hair black and styled it as a tradesman would.

“I didn’t know enough about commoner styles to choose the clothes myself. We asked for Sapling Ichiryū’s help,” Akeru said.

Chihaya didn’t think that Akeru’s usual clothes were much more muted than these, but he wisely kept silent.

Akeru glared at the phoenix-patterned sleeves for a few moments. Then he pulled himself together. “Look at this.” Akeru pulled a piece of paper from the breast pocket of his kimono and offered it to Chihaya.

Chihaya gave him a questioning look, but he accepted the paper.

“It’s the contract for your sister’s custody,” Akeru said impassively.

“Akeru paid for it. Yui will be able to leave the entertainment parlor if she wants to,” Shigemaru said.

“We used the fact that Yui was at a brothel,” Yukiya explained. “We got the contract the same way people purchase freedom for prostitutes. We had to sneak around a little to get it done. Kimichika shouldn’t know that Yui’s contract has changed hands yet.”

Chihaya stared at them in disbelief.

“I came here today to trade with you,” Akeru said. He reclined on his cushion. “If you accept my terms, I’ll give this to you. Yui will be a free woman. If you refuse to comply, she’ll be my property.”

“Isn’t that blackmail?”

“It is. I don’t care what you think. How much do you think this contract cost? I won’t be parting with it for free, you impoverished simpleton. If you want to save your sister, you need to accept Saike’s help.”

Chihaya clenched his fist. “This is what you call help?”

What would be forced on them this time? Loyalty dressed as gratitude? Free labor to repay the debt?

Akeru snorted. “Don’t make me laugh.” He opened his fan dramatically. “Who would help someone as intolerable as you? You can plead for my assistance, but it’s not going to happen. I’m just another arrogant palace raven incapable of thinking of anybody but myself.” He burst out laughing.

Chihaya found Akeru’s motives horrifying. What was the point of all this? Chihaya didn’t get a chance to ask.

“Nobles have their own problems to deal with,” Yukiya said. “Chihaya, you’re in a battle between factions right now.” He opened his arms as wide as possible. “Saike and Nanke are opposed. Akeru is trying to weaken Kimichika’s side.”

“They don’t want you as their enemy,” Shigemaru added. He pointed at Akeru and Yukiya. “Worst case scenario, you’d end up as Kimichika’s underling and we’d cross blades in the future. You’re too strong, so that’s the last thing we want.”

“It would be great if you could serve Akeru,” Yukiya said.

“But I don’t want you to serve me,” Akeru said. He covered his face with his fan. “I couldn’t trust you to do it, for one. I’m not brave enough to have someone like you at my side. You hate all nobles equally. What if, one day, you decided to kill me in my sleep?”

Yukiya shrugged. “There you have it. You don’t have to serve either one of us. All we want is for you to stop serving Kimichika.”

“It’s a roundabout way of getting you out from under Minami Tachibana’s thumb, but it should work,” Shigemaru added.

Yukiya and Shigemaru sounded like village ravens selling a new, untested product.

“You don’t need to worry about retribution,” Yukiya said. “We’ll make it clear that Saike forced your hand. No one will retaliate or second-guess your decision.”

“In other words, these guys want to be your friends,” Shigemaru said. “They don’t think they can do that unless your problems are solved, so they’re solving them.”

Akeru’s fan snapped shut. “Wait a minute! You’re making it sound like I went to all this trouble because I want to befriend Chihaya.”

“Eh, wasn’t that the whole idea?”

“I’m not so morally bankrupt that I’d buy friendship with money!”

Chihaya sighed heavily.

There was a long silence as Yukiya, Akeru, and Shigemaru waited for Chihaya’s decision. When Chihaya said nothing, Akeru ventured, “You don’t owe any loyalty to the Minami Tachibana family. Palace ravens, me included, are just using your circumstances for their own ends. It’s normal and rational for you to hate us.”

“I’m not loyal to the Minami Tachibana family,” Chihaya said bluntly.

Akeru winced.

“I don’t care what your motives are. You’re going to use me because that’s what nobles do.” He snorted. “You and Kimichika are doing the same thing, but not for the same reasons. You’re not like Kimichika—none of you are.”

“What does that mean?” Akeru asked.

“You’re not my enemies,” Chihaya said. “The Minami Tachibana family is.”

Yukiya and Shigemaru cheered in unison, shaking the floorboards with their jumping feet.

“One thing, though. I’ll pay you back for this contract.”

“Do you have any idea how many years that will take?” Akeru asked. He was smiling. His fan concealed tears running down his cheeks.

Chihaya nodded. “I do. I guess we’ll be seeing each other for a long time. You won’t get rid of me until I own the contract fair and square.” He grinned.

Shigemaru paused in his manic cheering. “I think Chihaya smiled.”

“Chihaya never smiles,” Yukiya said. He looked closely at Chihaya’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Will the sun rise in the west tomorrow?”

Yukiya and Shigemaru jumped around the room like monkeys. Akeru was trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Chihaya’s rare smile flashed off. He was unimpressed by the collective idiocy on display.

***

“Kimichika has no idea yet, right?” Shigemaru asked quite a while later.

Akeru nodded. “Chihaya and Yui are now under Saike’s protection. He can’t touch them. If he puts a finger on either one of them, he’ll be in a world of hurt.”

“We’re talking about Kimichika, though. He’s not smart enough to plan ahead and predict consequences. He resents Chihaya personally because of some perceived ungratefulness, right? What should we do about that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Yukiya asked cheerfully. “We face him head-on.”

“How?” Akeru asked.

“A fight.”

“A fight, right?”

Chihaya and Shigemaru answered at the same time. Akeru’s eye twitched.

“Why else would we need Ichiryū’s help?” Yukiya asked. “He’ll be useful, so let’s exploit—er, humbly rely on him.”

“Yukiya, you’re saying the things that nobles don’t say out loud,” Akeru said.

“Maybe more nobles should do that,” Yukiya said. “My patience is growing thin. We’ll get our chance soon. Let’s make the most of it.”

***

Summer ended. It was time for the cadets return after their long break. Early autumn was unseasonably hot, though clouds blocked the bright sun more often than not during the day.

Instructor Suikan’s attitude toward Yukiya hadn’t changed at all. He was always Yukiya’s opponent during strategy games. The other cadets had gotten sick of watching their matches. Instructor Suikan treated his games against Yukiya as some kind of sacred duty that he needed to fulfill.

“The rebel base of operations is the temple. The suppression forces total forty men. One General, two Officers. A quarter of the soldiers have Horses. Scouts and Spies are available. The rebel forces consist of one General, no Officers, and fifty Peasants with no weapons. Scouts and Spies are available.”

Suikan’s eyes roved over the map as he decided on his strategy for this campaign.

“This map represents the occupation of Deer Cry Temple in Ariake Province in Saike Territory. The events take place during the first month of the year. The Emperor commands you to suppress the revolt.”

Instructor Suikan stared at Yukiya, who was standing on the other side of the map. They performed their customary polite greetings and then started the game. Instructor Suikan never pulled his punches while playing, even though his opponent was only a Seed. He’d played through many complex maps with Yukiya and had started including Spies in every scenario since the start of the new semester. Battles on the map were intricate affairs with complex outcomes.

The newly added Spies were difficult to counter. They were like Scouts but had greater range. A Scout couldn’t infiltrate an enemy camp, but a Spy could. Spies were also invisible to enemy eyes unless the enemy actively decided to search for them at specific coordinates on the map. The result of these searches was determined by a roll of the dice.

Spies did have a few drawbacks, however. They were slower than Scouts, which theoretically made it possible to track them and root them out before they caused trouble. Yukiya was fond of playing the long game, so his use of Spies wasn’t particularly sophisticated. He seeded the battlefield with Scouts and Spies and hoped for the best.

Since his first inglorious defeat, Yukiya had used tried-and-true strategies that focused on defense almost exclusively. He played by the book, giving Instructor Suikan no opening to attack him. Not that these strategies mattered—Yukiya still lost. At the end of each match, as time ran down, Yukiya would panic, and that panicking would cause a floundering that led to the defeat of his forces. He would either run out of time to clinch victory or he would panic and send his forces at Instructor Suikan in a suicide run. He always lost in one of those two ways.

“Scout 2, move to B3. Cavalry 2 to 7, disperse in two rows of three.”

As usual, Yukiya started by building up a defensive formation for his General. He was hunkering down for a prolonged battle.

Fine. If that was what he wanted, then Instructor Suikan would let him have his test of endurance.

Instructor Suikan prepared for the Spies’ advancement, diligently performing searches around the map while flawlessly setting up his forces. His defenses would be perfect before the first day changed to night. He finished moving his own pieces and announced the end of his turn.

“I win,” Yukiya said calmly. He sounded bored.

Instructor Suikan wanted to protest, but he checked over the map first.

The referee had frozen at Yukiya’s unexpected announcement. The other cadets pointed at different pieces on the map and whispered to one another, trying to make sense of what Yukiya had said.

“It can’t be…” Instructor Suikan gasped, his eyes drifting toward the assistant instructor who was keeping score. The man was as pale as a sheet.

“Referee, please verify the result,” Yukiya said.

The scorekeeper passed his record to the referee. The referee looked from the paper to the map and back, comparing the score with the pieces on the map. His mouth was wide open in a shocked O. He held up his arm and pointed in Yukiya’s direction.

“The result is verified. The winner is cadet Yukiya.”

Yukiya’s forces had taken the enemy General’s head off.

“Give me the Spies’ movements,” Instructor Suikan said quietly.

The referee pulled three Spies off the map.

Suikan had found the first one during the match. The second one was more or less where he’d thought it would be, based on logic. He would have sent a Spy to the same location if he’d been playing Yukiya’s side of the game.

The third Spy, however…

The referee inched closer and closer to Instructor Suikan, Spy pieces still in hand. He called out the coordinates of Instructor Suikan’s main camp—right behind his General. It was impossible for his General to escape from the Spy.

Sneak attacks like this rarely succeeded in strategy games. They were always a gamble. Everything needed to fall perfectly into place for them to work.

How had this happened? Instructor Suikan hadn’t let his guard down. He hadn’t expected Yukiya to send his Spies out so far from his main camp so early in the game, but he’d performed thorough searches to catch those Spies before they could harm him. How had he missed this?

Instructor Suikan violently grabbed the scorekeeper’s papers out of the referee’s hands. He read them over thoroughly, once and then twice. Yukiya’s third Spy had moved through the narrow dead spaces between Suikan’s armies with the precision of a thread passing through the eye of a needle. The piece had moved as if Yukiya knew exactly which squares would be invisible to Instructor Suikan in the coming turns.

There was no other way to explain it. The Spy’s moves were inefficient and clumsy, like a drunkard stumbling across a battlefield. Yukiya couldn’t possibly have moved his Spy in such a way if he didn’t know how Instructor Suikan would move in advance. He’d moved back and forth, alternating between retreating and advancing, until he’d successfully invaded Suikan’s camp.

It was purposeful. Yukiya had to have moved like that because he could accurately predict the range of Instructor Suikan’s searches. But how had he done that? The range was decided by dice rolls. There was no way to predict the result of random rolls.

The cadets’ whispering became a dull roar. The result of the game would stand. Yukiya had won against Instructor Suikan.

Assistant instructors examined the map, looking just as dismayed as Instructor Suikan felt.

Yukiya sat alone in the middle of the chaos, as calm as ever. “Instructor Suikan, remember what you told me before?” he asked. “The weak have no right to speak. If you believe yourself to be right and don’t want people to look down on you, then don’t speak from a place of weakness. Have I regained my right to speak?” Yukiya gave him a fearless smile. “I’m not sure you’re fit to be an instructor at the Keisōin. You just lost to a Seed that hasn’t even studied strategy for a year.”

The commotion in the room died down immediately. The silence was deafening. “Instructor Suikan, please resign from your position. That’s probably for the best. You’re too weak to beat a Seed, so you have no right to speak here.”

***

“You cheated.” Kimichika approached Yukiya and Shigemaru with anger in his eyes.

Shigemaru shrank back from Kimichika’s wrath.

Yukiya remained calm and collected. “Are you talking to me?”

“Don’t play innocent. The instructors are in an uproar right now.”

Yukiya and Shigemaru had been on their way to the dining hall for lunch when Kimichika and all the other Nanke-affiliated nobles surrounded them. Rumors had already spread throughout the entire Keisōin. A Seed had defeated the strategy Instructor in a game that very morning and had asked for the instructor’s resignation.

Kimichika was in shock. Instructor Suikan favored him and shielded him from the consequences of his bad behavior. Seeing him challenged so publicly had enraged Kimichika so much that he forced a confrontation with Yukiya in the dining hall.

“You did cheat, right?”

“Of course he didn’t. You think Yukiya cheated just because he won? He’s lost a ton of times against Instructor Suikan,” Shigemaru said.

Kimichika glared at him. “I checked the score. The way it happened is just weird. You can’t win like that normally.”

Shigemaru was well aware of that. That morning, Yukiya had said, “It’s time to pick my battles” before he’d gone to strategy class. Shigemaru didn’t know exactly how Yukiya had won, but he did know that Yukiya had orchestrated the win somehow.

That meant Yukiya had, somehow, cheated. That was the only explanation. But the referee and scorekeeper were assistant instructors who had no reason to help Yukiya. Nobody could figure out what Yukiya had done.

Kimichika’s fury was unrelenting. “What’s wrong with you? You win by cheating and have the gall to ask an instructor to resign?”

“I didn’t cheat. I’m not you, you know.”

“Not me? What are you implying? That I’m a cheater?”

“You became a Sapling despite your terrible scores in the theory classes, or so I’ve heard. Instructor Suikan favors you. Maybe that’s why you’re so angry now? If Instructor Suikan leaves, that means you’ll have to drop out sooner or later.”

Kimichika fell for Yukiya’s blatant provocation hook, line, and sinker. “Lies and slander! Who told you such things?”

“Sapling Ichiryū.”

“He’s right there.” Shigemaru pointed into the crowd. It parted, revealing Ichiryū, Akeru, and Chihaya. Akeru and Chihaya were both straining to hold Ichiryū back so that he wouldn’t attack Kimichika—or Yukiya. It was hard to tell who he was glaring at.

“So it was you who spouted that rubbish!” Kimichika howled at Ichiryū.

Ichiryū muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Why does this always happen to me?”

“Sapling Ichiryū isn’t the only one who thinks there’s a problem. We do, too,” Akeru said. His face was flushed pink.

Chihaya nodded in agreement. “Even if you didn’t cheat on the exams, I don’t think you’re fit to be a cadet. And I say that as someone who used to serve you and knows you well.” It was rare for Chihaya to string so many words together in a line.

“Chihaya, whose side are you on?”

“Ichiryū’s.”

“The Minami Tachibana family saved you from becoming a horse! You wouldn’t even be here if not for me! You and your sister would have died of starvation without my family’s help, you ungrateful scum!”

Akeru’s expression twisted. “To think, I was like him once. Yikes.”

“You’re not like that anymore,” Chihaya said.

Akeru gave him a faint nod. He faced Kimichika squarely, drawing upon all of his dignity as a scion of Saike. “Circumstances change, Kimichika. I bought Yui’s contract. Chihaya doesn’t owe your family anything anymore.”

“That’s impossible.” Kimichika snorted.

“It’s the truth. And it’s too late for you to do anything about it.”

“That can’t be… He owes my father and me a huge debt.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Akeru said patiently. “He owes me a huge debt now. The people you saved hate you so much that they’d rather swear loyalty to another master than pay you back.”

Before Kimichika could respond, Yukiya’s laughter interrupted them.

Yukiya stopped laughing with visible effort. “I can’t believe Kimichika is really our senior. I’m not trying to make fun of you, Kimichika; I just don’t get it. Maybe I’m dumb or something.” The light of mischief danced in his eyes. “I can understand being born lacking certain skills and aptitudes—there’s not much to be done about that. But that’s not the main problem. That would be your garbage personality. Sapling Ichiryū is a hundred times more worthy of respect as our senior than you. I hope you realize that this situation is all your fault.”

Kimichika punched Yukiya in the face.

Yukiya dodged before he could be hit.

People in the crowd shouted, “Brawl!” and then the fight was on.

The crowd didn’t disperse, though they backed up to give Yukiya and the others some room. A few people ran away to tell the instructors what was happening.

Kimichika’s followers clustered around him like barnacles clinging to a rock. Yukiya counted ten people on his side. Ichiryū had brought along some of the more martially inclined members of the study group for this fight, so the odds were more or less even.

Shigemaru hung back, watching the fight and jumping in when others needed support. Kimichika was a capable enough fighter, and he might have won against Yukiya’s side if his opponent wasn’t an enraged Chihaya.

Chihaya kicked Kimichika down without mercy or pity. He didn’t use his ceremonial sword even when Kimichika drew his.

Shigemaru hoped Chihaya would remember his promise to Ichiryū. Killing Kimichika here wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Chihaya.

Shigemaru jumped into the fight to push away two Saplings on Kimichika’s side. Yukiya’s laughter reached him through the sounds of the fight.

“Stop trying to hit me and hit me!” Yukiya yelled. “That was weak! And slow! Look, a fly landed on your fist mid-punch. Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

Yukiya had blocked or dodged every attack directed his way with manic glee. Kimichika kept trying and failing to strike him with his ceremonial sword. Yukiya looked for his opening and then used it to joint-lock Kimichika, forcing him down to the ground. Kimichika couldn’t get to his feet because his knees refused to bend.

“Argh!”

“Are you all right?” Yukiya asked. “I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?” Yukiya followed this up with a kick to Kimichika’s back.

Chihaya sank his heel into the nape of Kimichika’s neck.

“Leave this to me,” Yukiya said to him.

Chihaya nodded and then backed up. He sprinted toward Akeru and the fighters around him. Yukiya moved to stand in front of Kimichika, taking the spot that Chihaya had just vacated.

“Fuck you! You’re the Crown Prince’s lapdog!” Kimichika spat venomously.

Yukiya grinned. “That’s better than you. You aren’t worthy of being anyone’s dog.”

Kimichika slashed his ceremonial sword at Yukiya’s legs. Yukiya jumped over the strike, landing gracefully. He pulled Kimichika up by the arm and then kicked the ground, launching himself upward to trip Kimichika with their combined momentum. Yukiya crashed to the ground, dragging Kimichika with him.

Shigemaru wasn’t close to the action, but he heard the sickening snap of joint strain and dislocated bones. Kimichika’s scream made Shigemaru’s eardrums pop. Yukiya didn’t release him.

“How does it feel to be bitten by a little lapdog like me? You constantly pick on us Seeds, but your extra year of training doesn’t make you any better than we are. If you’d been less of an ass, I might have taken pity on you and made this quick.” He laughed again, but there was no mirth in it this time, only anger.

Shigemaru downed the two Saplings he’d been fighting. He was ready to intervene if the situation demanded it, but Yukiya didn’t need his help. He reveled in tormenting Kimichika.

“Um… maybe that’s enough?” Shigemaru asked. “I don’t see what we’ll gain by drawing this out, Yukiya.”

Yukiya looked up at him in surprise. “If you say so, Shige. I guess we’ll leave things here.”

Yukiya stood up and walked away. Kimichika stayed on the ground. He was drenched in cold sweat and clutching his badly injured arm. A limping Akeru approached them both.

“Shigemaru, Yukiya. Are you hurt?”

“No. How about everyone else?”

“Bruises, mostly. Our opponents are hurt worse. Chihaya took them all down.”

Did that mean they’d won? Shigemaru didn’t feel like they had.

“What is going on here?” Instructor Seiken asked. His voice echoed in the dining hall.

Shigemaru faced the instructor. He was leading many assistant instructors, who were all lined up behind him. One man stood beside him—a man that most of the cadets recognized from the Keisōin’s opening ceremony.

Kimichika let out a muffled yelp.

“You gotta be kidding me. What’s he doing here?” Ichiryū asked, terrified.

Rokon stood at Instructor Seiken’s side. He was Kimichika’s older brother and Prince Natsuka’s personal guard.

Kimichika was in rotten shape. Yukiya had beaten him black and blue. New bruises were forming on his face.

“Who started this?” Instructor Seiken asked. He examined Kimichika closely. He already had an idea of what had happened here.

Yukiya raised his hand.

Shigemaru had expected him to pin the blame on Ichiryū. He gave Yukiya a sidelong glance. Yukiya gave him a brief smile.

“I did,” Yukiya admitted. “Lord Rokon, my apologies for causing harm to your esteemed brother.”

“I don’t need your apology,” Rokon said gruffly. “I’m aware of the situation at the Keisōin. Including the fact that a certain someone snatched my family’s servant away.”

“Brother.” Kimichika pleaded for help, groveling on the ground. “Please punish them. They forgot their place and rank and dared to insult Prince Natsuka. I couldn’t let them get away with that!”

“Indeed, you could not.”

Kimichika’s expression softened.

Rokon walked briskly toward him and kicked his own brother in the face. The impact sent some of Kimichika’s teeth flying along with his body.

“Kimichika! Are you all right?” Instructor Suikan took Kimichika in his arms and helped him sit up.

Rokon shook his head in disappointment.

“Brave of you to say all that. From what I hear, you’re the one who’s forgotten your place.” Rokon looked down at Kimichika. “You declared yourself part of Prince Natsuka’s Faction and made a show of your contempt toward His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince within the Keisōin. Did you honestly think you’d be allowed to become a Yamauchishu by showing open disloyalty to the Crown Prince?”

“What are you saying? Brother, didn’t you—”

“Shut up!” This time, Rokon slapped Kimichika silent.

“Enough, Michichika!” Instructor Seiken moved to protect Kimichika. Rokon returned his glare without blinking.

“These are family matters. It’s not your place to get involved.”

“This is the Keisōin, and he’s a cadet,” Instructor Seiken said. “I have every right to defend a cadet.”

Rokon looked amused. “Have you forgotten why I’m here today? Kimichika has been expelled from the Keisōin.”

Shock paralyzed the cadets in the dining hall.

“Brother…?”

“From this moment on, he isn’t a cadet. Oh, and I almost forgot. I have some words for the actual cadets.” He cleared his throat.

The crowd froze out of sheer fear. The cadets were all terrified of him.

“I don’t know what my brother has blathered on about, but Prince Natsuka’s loyalty to His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince is genuine. If you keep ignoring his wishes and imposing your own desires on Prince Natsuka, you’ll end up like my brother there.”

Rokon seized Kimichika by the hair and pulled him up. Blood dripped out of Kimichika’s mouth.

“Sorry for all the trouble,” Rokon said casually.

“Stop!” Instructor Seiken commanded.

Rokon ignored him. He dragged Kimichika out of the Keisōin and didn’t look back once.

***

“I hope you know why we’ve called you here, cadet.”

“I do.”

Yukiya sat before the Keisōin’s Commandant, bold and brave.

The Commandant had heard all the rumors about this Seed. He’d been the Crown Prince’s personal attendant before he’d enrolled in the Keisōin. He and Yukiya sat in the classroom where Seeds learned their strategy coursework. Instructors Kashin, Seiken, and Suikan were all present.

The Commandant knew the circumstances that had led to Yukiya’s brawl with Kimichika, but there were many things that he didn’t know or understand. His first line of questioning focused on the strategy game Yukiya had won that morning.

“I’ve seen the score of your game this morning, and I’m just as surprised as everyone else. You planned to use that Spy piece as an assassin from the start, didn’t you?” the Commandant asked.

“That’s right,” Yukiya said.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but we can’t figure out how you managed to win like this. It’s as if you knew what number would be rolled next. We thought that perhaps you arranged for the dice to fall on certain numbers, but the assistant instructor in charge of rolling the dice insists that he never colluded with you on anything.”

“The assistant instructor wasn’t trying to make me win, and he didn’t falsify anything either,” Yukiya said. His expression was slightly troubled. “Please take a look. I’m going to roll a one.”

Yukiya picked up a die that someone had left on the map in the center of the room. Then he rolled it on the desk. Just as he said, the result was a one.

“See? It’s very simple. The Valley’s gamblers use this trick,” Yukiya said. “You turn the face you want upwards and pinch the die like this as you throw it. It will roll exactly three times if done correctly. It looks like rolling the dice normally, but this method allows anyone to determine the result of their roll with near certainty.”

Yukiya had met that assistant instructor before in the Valley’s gambling dens. He’d recognized him immediately. “He used to go to the Valley around four times a month. I think the gamblers there probably taught him how to do this trick.”

“Then that means—”

“Yes, it’s just as you think. He was practicing during classes.” His job was to sit at the desk and roll the dice, then record the results. Under the mask of dutiful work, he’d started to play around with the dice, probably out of boredom. Strategy games could go on for hours. “He was really bad at it at first. When I first joined the Keisōin, he didn’t succeed that often, but he’s gotten a lot better recently. More often than not, he actually gets his intended roll. At worst, the dice rolls one more time, or one less. I knew that.”

“Wait. Are you implying you knew what number he was trying to get?”

“Yes, of course. That part was easy.” Yukiya poked the die. “Records of previous games are freely available. He always tried to roll the numbers from the strategy game immediately before the one he was playing, just in the opposite order.”

Instructor Suikan groaned at Yukiya’s explanation. Instructor Kashin was speechless. Instructor Seiken gave Yukiya a pondering kind of look. “How could you possibly have noticed that?”

“His eye movements. He was looking at something before rolling the dice. I took a peek at his desk when he was cleaning up once.”

“But you have no way of seeing those game records on his desk in the middle of a game, do you?”

“No, but I can remember the patterns I saw and guess based on those. I pay attention to my fellow cadets’ games, after all,” Yukiya said casually. “Anyone could have done what I did.”

The Commandant rubbed his temples to soothe his growing headache.

“I can’t accept this. That’s not how strategy games are played,” Instructor Kashin said.

“It’s not?” Yukiya smirked. “Strategy games are battles of the mind. We’re not supposed to use our environment to our advantage? Why not?” He paused. “Real-life situations are unfair. The Kuisaru attacked us without warning, using general ignorance of the tears in reality to make their way here. We can’t expect our opponents to play fair; why should we? We need to use all the advantages we have to keep Yamauchi safe.”

Instructor Kashin struggled to come up with answers to Yukiya’s questions. “You may be right, but you were wrong to request your instructor’s resignation in front of the class. That act was meant to humiliate your teacher, who you’re supposed to respect.”

“And why should Yukiya respect him?” Rokon asked. He stood in the doorway of the classroom, a looming shadow.

“Michichika!” Instructor Suikan yelled Rokon’s birth name.

Rokon bared his teeth. He walked over the map toward the instructors.

“Where is Kimichika?”

“I sent him to the Minami Tachibana family’s main residence. They’re probably treating his injuries by now. He’ll be fine.”

Instructor Suikan let out a deep sigh of relief and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Leaving all that aside—what did you mean?” Instructor Kashin asked Rokon. “Why shouldn’t Yukiya respect Instructor Suikan as his teacher?”

Rokon pointed to Yukiya’s chest. “This whelp is more qualified than the lot of you to run this place. That’s why.”

“Lord Rokon,” Yukiya said, “I never asked to run anything.”

Rokon ignored him. “I know I’m right.” He laughed merrily and stood on his heels. “Yukiya, you little shit, you’re already running things. The fact that they haven’t noticed just proves they’re incompetent.”

The instructors reacted to this in different ways. Suikan looked at the ceiling. Seiken sighed deeply, sinking farther into his cushion. Kashin’s slight frown meant that he was thinking hard about something.

“Huh. Maybe the lot of you did figure something out, then,” Rokon said.

The Commandant had been left behind.

Kashin shook his head. “I felt like something was off with him, yeah. I knew he was capable of doing a lot more than he did, but I figured he was just slacking off. Are you saying he plotted all this?”

“I mean exactly what I said.” Rokon opened his arms wide. “Yukiya enrolled in the Keisōin for two reasons. The first was to ferret out traitors to the Crown Prince. The second was to recruit promising cadets to the Crown Prince’s side.” Rokon turned to Yukiya. “You’ve done all that and more, haven’t you?”

Yukiya didn’t say anything.

“You all got some instructions from the Crown Prince about this year’s dormitory arrangements, didn’t you? I took a look at the records. The messenger came from the Crown Prince, but the arrangements were all Yukiya’s doing.”

There were a few people who’d caught Yukiya’s attention before their arrival at the Keisōin.

The first person was Shigemaru of Shimaki Province, a cadet of commoner origin. His scores were second only to Chihaya’s in the practical section of the entrance exam. Shigemaru’s physical prowess was beyond question and he had no problematic noblemen backing him. That plus his reason for enrolling made Yukiya think he would be easy to recruit to the Crown Prince’s faction. The only black mark against him was that his theory scores were abysmal. Yukiya had decided to share a room with him so that he could help Shigemaru study.

The second person was Akeru of Saike, whose circumstances were similar to Yukiya’s. He was already in the Crown Prince’s faction, but his attitude was a problem. He’d aced both the theory and practical parts of the entrance exam, but it wasn’t clear if he’d manage to maintain that excellence long-term. Yukiya had been concerned that he would drop out and use the Shadow Rank system like so many cadets in the Keisōin did before starting their third year. Yukiya’s main strategy with Akeru was to fix his personality issues and bolster his long-term planning so that he wouldn’t burn himself out before graduation.

The third person was Chihaya, a commoner in service to the Minami Tachibana family. He had good scores in both the practical and theory sections of the entrance exam even though he had almost no education. Chihaya had limitless potential. Yukiya figured that he could easily use Chihaya’s little sister to help bring him into the Crown Prince’s faction.

“Which is exactly why he got the girl’s contract from me in advance, so that he could act as soon as the opportunity presented itself,” Rokon said.

“But that means…” Instructor Seiken gulped.

“Yukiya owned this contract before the Seeds took their first lesson. Yes.”

Yukiya had bought Yui’s freedom before any cadets had entered the Keisōin that year. He could have given the contract to her at any time, but he hadn’t. He’d waited for the right moment so that he could guarantee Chihaya’s recruitment.

“Such a caring friend, don’t you think?” Rokon asked acidly.

Yukiya remained silent.

“And there was a fourth person who caught Yukiya’s attention, too,” Rokon said. “My brother. He asked me if he could make use of him. Of course I agreed. His plans are always great fun.”

Kimichika’s identity as the leader of Prince Natsuka’s faction in the Keisōin was more fabricated than real. Before Yukiya’s provocations and Rokon’s orders from home, Kimichika had been a lot like Akeru with the same personality issues.

But then Rokon had pushed Kimichika to act as the leader of Prince Natsuka’s faction during a time of unrest in the Imperial Court. Kimichika had gathered sympathizers, exposing cadets who weren’t loyal to the Crown Prince.

“A cadet’s beliefs are usually those of the family supporting him,” Rokon said. “We exposed a lot of traitors this year. My brother played his part perfectly.”

The conflict between factions at the Keisōin had grown worse over time. The Crown Prince and Prince Natsuka opposed Yukiya’s methods, so Rokon simply didn’t tell them what was happening. He and Yukiya worked together to expose and punish traitors. They’d decided to make an example out of Kimichika from the start. If all went well, there wouldn’t be any idiots left at the Keisōin willing to ally themselves with Prince Natsuka.

“Things would’ve worked out better if an instructor hadn’t tried to protect my brother,” Rokon said.

Instructor Suikan grimaced.

“You knew Rokon and I were planning something,” Yukiya said. “When did you figure it out?”

“I always knew. Your answers on the entrance exam were abnormal. I’ve been keeping a close eye on you from the beginning.”

Instructor Suikan knew that Yukiya had lost strategy games against him on purpose. He wasn’t making use of his full talents. It was clear from his answers on the entrance exam that he’d been studying military strategy for years already. His suspicions about Yukiya grew when he learned about the fight with Kimichika in the dining hall.

“You weren’t punished for that encounter because Instructor Seiken was there. I heard later that you intentionally provoked Kimichika into attacking you.” At that point, it became clear to Instructor Suikan that Yukiya was trying to cause an escalation of the faction conflict in the Keisōin.

That was also why Instructor Suikan kept challenging Yukiya to strategy games.

“We haven’t gotten to talk to one another honestly before now,” Yukiya said. “I knew what you were trying to do by beating me, especially that first time. It was a warning. You were trying to tell me that you wouldn’t let things go my way. That you’d fight me every step. You were trying to isolate me and keep me from strengthening my faction. We all see how well that worked.”

“Your plans were crude,” Instructor Suikan said. “Surely there was a cleverer way to root out Prince Natsuka’s supporters. Even if my actions had caused you to drop out, that wouldn’t matter. You could return to being the Crown Prince’s personal attendant. You don’t need to graduate from the Keisōin to be useful to your lord.

“That’s not the case for other cadets here,” Instructor Suikan said. He spoke more loudly as he went on; he was almost shouting now. “Many cadets don’t have anywhere else to go. And you used those poor kids as you pleased just to achieve your goals. Those cadets deserve to have all the same opportunities as you, and they’ve lost them thanks to your poor planning.” He tore his hair. " Who cares if their families are politically opposed to your side? You had no right to take away their futures. They’re the second and third sons of low-ranking nobility. There’s no position waiting for them in the Imperial Court. Think of the commoner cadets as well—graduating from the Keisōin might be their only chance to earn a better life for themselves and their families. Did you consider any of that at all?”

Kimichika’s downfall left a power vacuum in the Keisōin. It was likely that his followers would drop out. People who’d relied on those cadets for safety or assistance would drop out, too. Instructor Suikan was worried sick about these cadets. He felt like he’d failed them.

“You’re so old, but so naïve,” Rokon said.

“Silence, you cold-hearted bastard! How could you punish Kimichika like that? He’s your own brother!” He shifted in his seat so that he faced Yukiya head-on. “And you. How could you do this to your fellow cadets?”

“Well,” Yukiya drawled, “if you remember, you said I was unworthy of being called a Keisōin cadet. I’ll speak to you as the Crown Prince’s personal attendant, then, so that we can address one another with respect.” He nodded to himself. “All of you instructors—don’t you know what the Keisōin is for? And have you forgotten that Yamauchishu tried to assassinate the Crown Prince less than two years ago?

“It’s clear that the Yamauchishu is corrupt. That’s your responsibility, not mine. All of you are at fault. I came here to fix your mistakes. If you’d fixed things yourself, I never would have needed to take matters into my own hands.” He looked the Commandant in the eye. “Why aren’t you doing your duty, sir? Why are you driving the Keisōin into the ground? You’re graduating traitors and placing them in the Imperial Court.”

“I—” The Commandant sighed deeply. “Every Commandant of the Keisōin serves the reigning emperor. It is my duty to run the Keisōin in accordance with His Imperial Majesty’s wishes.”

“What were the Emperor’s orders for you, then?” Yukiya asked.

“His Majesty has given orders to me only once in his entire reign.”

The Emperor loathed the Yamauchishu. That sentiment extended to the Keisōin’s Commandant. The Commandant had seen the Emperor only once. He’d been summoned to the Imperial Hall at the beginning of his tenure at the Keisōin. He’d greeted the Emperor, who had acknowledged the greeting from behind a bamboo screen.

One of the Emperor’s secretaries spoke to the Commandant for the entire meeting. The Emperor didn’t say a single word.

“You are to treat Prince Natsuka as the Crown Prince, not His Imperial Highness.” Those were the secretary’s orders to the Commandant.

“Your Majesty, is that truly what you want?” The command blatantly disregarded the previous emperor’s wishes.

The secretary listened to the Emperor’s whispered reply. “He says you may do as you please,” she said curtly.

The Commandant left the meeting with his mandate hopelessly muddled. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, and so the faction lines of the Imperial Court spilled over into the Keisōin, which had been apolitical up to that point.

“That Yamauchishu would attempt to assassinate His Imperial Highness should be unthinkable. We were not punished, however. His Imperial Majesty didn’t even send us a message about that,” the Commandant said.

“His Imperial Majesty ordered you to treat Natsuka as his heir and do as you please, and that’s led to all this trouble,” Yukiya said. “I don’t know whether to praise you for your loyalty or beat you for your idiocy.”

“I have only one lord, and that is His Imperial Majesty. I cannot go against his wishes.”

Yukiya considered that. “My lord is the true Golden Raven. I’ll obey his orders over any of yours, and I’ve got no reason to listen to the Emperor.” He looked at Instructor Suikan, who bit his lip in frustration. “His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince is the only one who can protect Yamauchi against the Kuisaru.”

He addressed the Commandant again. “The Yamauchishu who raised their swords against the Crown Prince could just as easily assassinate your precious Emperor. And then where would we be? Yamauchi’s power structure would collapse, and it would be all your fault. Open your eyes and see reason. We’re facing a real threat here, not just silly faction politics. We have literal monsters on our doorstep, and you’re all here playing strategy games and training traitors to kill the imperial family. You should be ashamed. I’m furious with all of you.”

Yukiya’s eyes lingered on the face of every instructor. “The Crown Prince has requested meetings with you all many times. You’ve never granted him an audience, not once. You’re using the Emperor’s command as a shield while the world falls into chaos all around you. How many people have already lost promising futures because of your inaction? The men who attacked the Crown Prince didn’t have to be traitors. You could have changed their fate. You didn’t. Commandant, your loyalty to the Emperor makes you a traitor to your country. If you don’t see that now, nothing I say will ever make you realize how badly you’ve screwed up here.”

“Enough.” Instructor Seiken raised his hand to halt Yukiya’s torrent of hostility. “I’m sure the Commandant gets the message. You’re not empowered to speak on the Crown Prince’s behalf. You are his attendant, not his voice.”

Yukiya nodded slowly. “That’s true. I overstepped a little. My apologies.” Yukiya bowed his head.

“I have a question for you,” Instructor Seiken said. “You are correct that Instructor Suikan treated you as an outsider to the Keisōin. I did not, however. I have always treated you like any other cadet.”

“That’s right,” Yukiya said. “What’s your question?”

“I believe that you have also treated your fellow cadets in a similar manner—as individuals, and perhaps friends. You used them for their own benefit—because you care about them. Based on your actions, I cannot believe you wanted to use them solely for what you expected to get out of them. Do you believe that you must become a monster to fight the monsters that we face?”

“You think I’m a monster, Instructor Seiken?” Yukiya asked. His composure slipped for the briefest of moments. Right then, he looked like the boy he was, not the tactician he’d been forced to become.

Instructor Seiken looked at him like a man mourning who Yukiya used to be—or perhaps the man that he could have been. “I don’t think you like using people, Yukiya. And I don’t think you’re a monster, despite the viciousness of some of your tactics. Don’t forget who you are while you’re trying to save others.”

“I might not have a choice,” Yukiya said. He looked Instructor Seiken in the eye. “The only thing that matters in strategy is winning.”

***

The moon was huge tonight. Shigemaru looked up at it as he took a stroll across the Keisōin’s grounds. He didn’t know how he and his friends would be punished for the brawl yet, so he decided to enjoy his free time while he still had some. Yukiya’s group had all treated their injuries and scattered, hoping to make it slightly more difficult for the instructors to issue a group punishment.

Only Yukiya had been summoned by the Commandant. Shigemaru was worried sick about him. He’d been gone for hours.

Shigemaru took a roundabout path to the strategy classroom where Yukiya had been summoned. He couldn’t sit around doing nothing while his friend was in trouble. He’d warned Ichiryū and Chihaya where he was going in case they needed to mount a rescue later.

The night air smelled of sun-warmed dirt and dew-covered grass. The full moon hung overhead, a rich yellow color like an egg yolk.

Shigemaru was almost to the strategy classroom when he spotted Yukiya walking in the shadows between buildings. He sprinted over to him.

“Hey! That took forever. You must be exhausted.”

“Shige.” Yukiya’s head snapped up. He appeared dazed.

He must feel like shit, Shigemaru thought. He held out the package he’d been carrying. “You’re hungry, right? I grabbed this for you from the dining hall.”

“Oh. Thanks—you didn’t have to do that.” Yukiya attempted his usual smile, but it came out wrong. Forced.

Shigemaru didn’t like that one bit.

Yukiya sat down on a low stone fence and unwrapped cold rice balls, which he picked at slowly. The more Shigemaru watched him, the more certain he was that something was terribly wrong.

“Did they lay into you that bad?”

“They did.”

“What did they say?”

“They got mad at me. Told me my personality sucks.”

Shigemaru doubted the instructors had used those exact words, but Yukiya’s summaries of coursework were usually right. He doubted Yukiya had misunderstood the instructors’ intent. He wanted to help Yukiya feel better, but he wasn’t sure how.

Inspiration didn’t strike, so Shigemaru settled for basic honesty. “Well, it does suck.”

Yukiya choked on a rice ball. “Ow. Et tu, Shige?”

Joking was a familiar deflection, but Shigemaru saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. He pretended that he hadn’t seen that. If Yukiya wanted to talk about something more seriously, he would. “I mean, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Shigemaru’s first impression of Yukiya had been mostly positive. He’d seemed like a nice, cheerful kid who didn’t think through most of what he said or did. But first impressions were deceptive. Yukiya was too clever by half. He could be vindictive against enemies. He was capable of lying to his friends.

“Uh…” Yukiya trailed off. He looked even more miserable than before.

“We’re talking past each other, I think,” Shigemaru said. “My fault, sorry. What I mean is, Akeru, Chihaya, Ichiryū, Kippei, me—everyone. We all know what you’re like, and we hang out with you anyway. Everyone has their good and bad points, right? You have some really good points and some really bad points, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Shige, you’re only saying that because you don’t know everything about me.”

“Everyone has secrets, too. What matters is seeing the good in people and deciding if that’s worth your time.” Shigemaru’s attempts at cheering Yukiya up weren’t working. “Sometimes you remind me of a little kid who’s been sent on an errand alone.”

“Huh?” Yukiya looked up, confused.

Shigemaru laughed. “I didn’t say that because you’re short. It’s that look on your face—like you know where you need to go and what you need to do, so you’re not about to cry or anything. But there are no adults with you, so you feel lonely and scared. There’s no one around who you can trust to help you. That must be hard.”

Yukiya said nothing for a long while.

Shigemaru looked at Yukiya and thought about Eita, who he’d never see again. He’d been such a brave little boy, and Shigemaru hadn’t saved him. He’d come too late to save anyone.

“I’m not smart,” Shigemaru said. “Not like you. I don’t know what errand you’ve given yourself. I don’t know where you’re trying to go. But I can tell that you’re doing everything you can. Your errand is really important to you.” He reached out and messed up Yukiya’s hair. “I’m not your family—I’m not even an adult yet—but I’ll help you. Okay? Whatever it is you need to do, I’m here to help you. You don’t have to be lonely. And if you’re scared, we can be brave together. I won’t abandon you.”

“You won’t, Shige?”

“Nope. And I’m not the only one with you. You’ve got other people who’ll help you, too. They might complain, but they’ll come along with you anyway. More people than you think, I’m sure—though it might take you a while to find them all.” He smiled.

Yukiya looked down dejectedly at a rice ball. He nodded shakily.

“We’ve got your back, Yukiya.”

After a long silence, Yukiya whispered, “Thanks, Shige.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s head back before Ichiryū pitches a fit.”

Translator's Notes

We’ve seen Kanu has an era name or measurement of time in previous books. This era name is Meiki (meaning “bright tortoise”). If Yamauchi changes era names based on historical Japanese rules, then the current Emperor’s regnal name is Kanu and the previous true Golden Raven’s regnal name was Meiki.

A biwa is a Japanese lute, similar to the koto but with a different shape and sound. The main difference between a biwa and a koto is their form: the biwa is a short-necked, pear-shaped lute (like a Japanese guitar/lute), often used for dramatic storytelling with a plectrum, while the koto is a long, plucked zither or harp-like instrument with many strings (usually 13) and movable bridges.

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