Yatagarasu Series 6 - The Raven's Flourishing - Part 2: Sundering

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 6: 

The Raven's Flourishing

Author: Abe Chisato

Part 2: Sundering

The world was warm and golden, bathed in soft light.

Yukiya’s younger brother, Yukichi, laughed merrily beside him on the rice mat floor. He was clinging to Azusa’s leg, looking up at her with his thumb in his mouth.

“Look! Yukichi is standing up!” Yukiya said, pointing excitedly.

Azusa laughed. “Yes, I see that.”

Yukiya was in his room in Taruhi Village. Yukimasa, Yukiya’s father, came into the room and picked up the toddler Yukichi, lifting him over his head.

“You’ve gotten so big, Yukichi!” Yukimasa said.

“He’s almost ready to walk,” Azusa said proudly.

Yukiya jumped up and down for joy.

Yukimasa smiled at Yukichi. “He looks just like Yukima at that age, doesn’t he? He’ll grow up to be a handsome little man.”

Azusa chuckled. “They look alike, but they’re not the same. Yukichi is very stubborn. He’s more like you than me.”

Yukimasa grinned. “You think so?”

Yukiya waved his arms over his head. “Hey! What about me? Who am I like?” He ran up to his father and tugged at his pants.

Yukimasa stopped smiling. “You aren’t like me or Azusa. You’re not like anyone.”

Yukiya frowned. “Huh?”

The warm golden light in the room flickered and went out. Cold midwinter wind blew in through the window. His parents and younger brother were gone in a flash, leaving him alone in the empty room.

“F-Father…?”

Yukiya found his father in the hallway. He tried to grab his hand, but Yukimasa brushed it away. He pointed behind Yukiya. “That’s where you belong. Go to her.”

Yukiya didn’t turn around. He heard wet footsteps squelching on the wooden floor and was terrified. His family was getting farther and farther away from him, even though they weren’t moving. They receded into the distance like a mirage in the desert. Golden light shone around them, bright as starlight. Yukimasa, Azusa, Yukima, and Yukichi were all smiling.

Then Yukiya’s family turned their backs to him.

“Wait! Don’t leave me behind!” Yukiya cried out.

No one looked back. They didn’t seem to realize that Yukiya was there.

“Mother!” Yukiya yelled. “Why won’t you look at me? I’m here!”

A cold blue hand snaked over Yukiya’s shoulder and yanked him backward. He smelled the sickly-sweet scent of decay and broken earth. The hand spun him around, revealing a drowned woman with mottled blue-white skin.

“Your mother is here,” the bloated corpse rasped.

***

Yukiya’s eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright in bed.

“Sir?” Haruma, his junior colleague, asked. “Are you all right? It looked like you were having a nightmare.” His face was pinched with worry.

“I’m fine,” Yukiya said. He rubbed his forehead briefly and then got out of bed.

Haruma handed him a bamboo cup full of water.

Yukiya gulped the water down. “Thanks.” He was in the Sun Palace. It had been three months since the Forbidden Gate had opened. Since that day, dark clouds had hung over all of Yamauchi, blotting out the sun. There’d been no more major earthquakes, but the rice harvest was poor. Very few crops could grow without sunshine. There would soon be food shortages in the Palace Above the Clouds if something didn’t change.

The huge tears in the earth and sky persisted. Nazukihiko hadn’t been permitted to return to repair them. Ghost lights shone through the tears in the evenings. Rumors spread that Yamauchi itself was on the verge of collapse.

The Yatagarasu could not flee Yamauchi. There was nowhere else for them to go. More and more refugees arrived in the Palace Above the Clouds every day. It had suffered only minor damage during the earthquake.

Nazukihiko had spent most of the past three months in the mountain god’s realm. The mountain god claimed that he needed Nazukihiko to attend to his needs, but that was a lie; the mountain god had no need for food, sleep, or company. All the mountain god did all day was yell at Nazukihiko until he went hoarse. Nazukihiko wasn’t even permitted to speak, or the mountain god would start his tirade all over again.

When the mountain god grew particularly angry, the Forbidden Gate and its environs would shake for a few moments.

The Kuisaru who had led the Crown Prince to the mountain god was named Ōzaru. He observed Nazukihiko’s distress with clear delight.

Yukiya had been forbidden to accompany the Crown Prince to the mountain god’s realm since his first unfortunate visit. If the Crown Prince died, Yukiya was empowered to lead in his place. As the strategy instructor at the Keisōin, Yukiya could have taken rooms there, but he was also a Yamauchishu and the Crown Prince’s personal guard. He stayed in the Sun Palace during his off hours just in case Nazukihiko returned from the mountain god’s realm. He found it difficult to stay asleep these days. He was restless and desired activity. Doing anything would be better than sitting here twiddling his thumbs.

Not that his days weren’t busy: they were. He taught classes at the Keisōin most days. Haruma helped him keep track of his schedule and took care of sending his messages.

“I’m sorry to disturb you when you were resting,” Haruma said.

“Did something happen?”

“We have received a message from Clear Mirror Temple. It seems they have something to report to His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince in person. If possible, they would like you to accompany him as well.”

“Where is the Crown Prince now?”

“He is still in the mountain god’s realm. I have also informed Shigemaru of this message. He said that he would take over any urgent business that comes up while you are inside Clear Mirror Temple.”

“Understood. I’ll go to the temple at once. Have my horse prepared.”

“Certainly.”

Haruma saw Yukiya off a few minutes later. It was early afternoon, but the sky was dark and the wind carried a touch of frost. The city below lay in ruins. Some of the roads were clear, but most of the rebuilding efforts were focused elsewhere, on places farther away from the Forbidden Gate.

Yukiya remembered the lively, bustling harbor town he’d seen when he’d come to the capital for the first time with his father. That was gone now. The harbor town had fallen into a tear and the city around it was nothing but rubble. He drove his horse onward with single-minded focus and didn’t look down.

***

The most important things to Yukiya were his home and his family. The ruined capital was a reminder of what could happen to Taruhi Village. The worst thing was that he couldn’t stop the earth and sky from ripping apart and causing destruction; not even Nazukihiko could do that. He was powerless to protect what he valued. He couldn’t even protect Nazukihiko anymore.

His family life was complicated. He had two half-brothers; he was the only sibling with a different mother, and that mother had died shortly after his birth. There was no shortage of relatives in Taruhi Village who encouraged Yukiya to lean in to his noble heritage. Some had suggested that the Lord of Hokke should adopt him. Others spread unflattering rumors about his mother, Fuyuki, who was no longer alive to defend herself.

Yukiya was fortunate that his stepmother, Azusa, genuinely cared for him. Azusa had rarely made him feel different from her own sons, and never on purpose. His half-brothers saw him as part of the family and never brought up his different parentage.

Fuyuki’s memory painted her as a severe woman, physically frail but fiercely temperamental. The marriage between her and Yukimasa was, by all accounts, a love match, though Yukimasa had always been fond of Azusa as well. After years spent in a barren marriage, Yukimasa had taken Azusa as his second wife. Fuyuki had viewed this as an insult—Azusa was like a sister to her—and had gotten pregnant with Yukiya out of spite. She’d died hours after he was born. She’d never even held him in her arms.

Yukiya never asked his father about his mother, but he guessed that there were complicated feelings there. In his nightmare, Yukimasa had treated him with cold indifference, but his father had never treated Yukiya like that in reality. Yukiya always had his father’s attention when he needed it—but usually, that attention was negative. Yukiya had spent his childhood pretending to be stupid and incompetent. He and his father hadn’t spoken since he’d shed the façade and become the Crown Prince’s right-hand man.

It was easy to believe that Yukimasa loved Yukiya because he was his son, but Yukimasa had never truly understood his middle son. Sometimes that saddened Yukiya. If he were less clever, more innocent, genuinely childish, and desperate for his parents’ approval—would his father have bothered to get to know him then?

It didn’t matter. Yukiya couldn’t change who he was. He could only change who he appeared to be. He was good at that, but he had no interest in interacting with his own father from behind a well-crafted mask.

There were times when Yukiya wished his mother were alive. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask her. Had she really borne him out of spite, or were there other reasons? Was she hateful and selfish, or was her decision to sacrifice her life for the sake of Yukimasa’s heir—and her own—more complicated than that?

Yukiya knew very little of his birth mother, and none of it was positive. The maids and ladies-in-waiting who’d served her described her as snappish and ungrateful. Yukiya’s father had never said a word about her. Azusa defended her character whenever she was given the opportunity to do so, but she’d never given Yukiya any concrete details about his mother.

“Your mother loved you,” Azusa had said to him more than once. “She loved you more than anyone and anything. You’re the only child in this house to know the love of two mothers. She’d be delighted that you grew up to be healthy and strong.”

Yukiya loved and respected Azusa as the mother who’d raised him, but he always felt like there was more to learn about his birth mother. He’d been born with a keen intelligence that saw through people, making them easy to manipulate. Azusa was clever, but not shrewd in the same way. Neither were his brothers or his father. Yukiya suspected that he had his birth mother’s mind. His brothers had inherited Azusa’s forthright cleverness and kindliness, as he had not.

He felt deprived of that simple kind of intelligence: the kind that could look at a person as they were and desire to get to know them for the sake of simple friendship.

Yukiya couldn’t look at someone without immediately knowing how they could be used. He didn’t want to use his family, so he turned his shrewd gaze away from them. He wondered if his mother had felt the same way. His opinion of his father lowered as he aged. He could easily imagine that his mother had made use of his father for her own inscrutable reasons. His father would have had no defense against her if her mind was like Yukiya’s. Yukimasa was a mediocre man in all respects. He wasn’t built to play mind games with anyone.

It was possible for a good, honest man to be in power in Taruhi Province, a rural place far to the north of Yamauchi’s capital. Such a man would be eaten alive in Souke Territory. The Nanke family would make short work of him, and the Saike family would laugh in his face. The Touke family was known for their subtle manipulation of events; Yukiya suspected that his father was far beneath their notice. An honest man was predictable. They didn’t need to involve themselves in his affairs to steer him in the direction they wanted.

The only reason Yukimasa had come to power was that he had the Lord of Hokke’s backing—because he’d married the Lord of Hokke’s daughter. Now she was dead, and Yukiya was a living reminder of her—and an unbreakable bond to the Lord of Hokke and his family. After Yukiya died, there would be no aegis of protection from the Lord of Hokke for future generations of Yukimasa’s family. That troubled Yukiya deeply at times, but all he could do was try not to die for a very long time.

Yukiya didn’t have much in common with his father, but he felt a strange sympathy for him. He’d married twice for politics, even though there were also feelings involved. His power was loaned from the Lord of Hokke; without it, he would be nothing, and he wouldn’t be able to protect his family. Yukiya respected his father’s choices even though they weren’t the ones he would have made, because at least the family was safe. He’d grown up safely because of his father.

Yukiya wasn’t convinced that Yukimasa could continue to defend his family forever—certainly not on his own. Yukiya had never wanted to rely on the Lord of Hokke’s power and political standing for anything, so he was always thinking about ways to make Taruhi Province strong and independent—so that it could stand on its own if the worst should happen.

So that his family would be safe. Not just now, and not just while he lived: always. He would give up everything he had to keep his family safe forever.

***

Clear Mirror Temple came into view below Yukiya. Nestled among groves of tall, dark trees, the large temple complex spread out in a rough circular shape down a mountain forest slope. Prince Natsuka, the older half-brother of the Crown Prince, was the head priest of the temple. Neatly tended white sand gardens spread out around the temple buildings. Clear Mirror Temple was closer to the capital than to the Palace Above the Clouds, and it hadn’t been evacuated. The White Raven and the Archpriest had transferred Yamauchi’s religious records and personnel to Clear Mirror Temple after the Forbidden Gate had been forced open.

Yukiya flew his horse down to the temple gate, descending slowly. He was looking around for a stable when a shadow passed over his head. He looked up and saw the Crown Prince and Shigemaru approaching on horseback.

A temple servant rushed up to lead Yukiya’s horse to a stable.

“Have you been waiting long?” the Crown Prince asked Yukiya, still on his horse.

“No; I just got here,” Yukiya said. His sworn lord and his best friend were here. Nothing about their desperate situation had changed, but Yukiya felt much better for their presence.

The Crown Prince was a mess. That was new. Usually, his black hair was immaculately tied behind his head, with not a single strand out of place. Now it was half-loose and sticking to his forehead. He’d always been pale, but his confinement in the mountain god’s realm for so long had made his skin papery from dried sweat and dirt. He looked exhausted enough to collapse.

Yukiya took the reins of the Crown Prince’s horse as a just-in-case measure and looked up at him. “Please don’t fall off the horse. If you’re gonna faint, do it after.”

The Crown Prince gave him a peevish frown. He was tall, but no one would describe him as robust; his features were androgynous. The only forcefulness in him came from his personality, not from his relatively underwhelming physical presence.

“Sorry,” Yukiya said before the Crown Prince could reprimand him. “I’m just worried, is all. Be careful.”

The Crown Prince’s eyes narrowed, and then he dismounted in one smooth motion. More temple servants were coming to tend to his and Shigemaru’s horses.

Shigemaru rushed to the Crown Prince’s side as if he, too, worried that the Crown Prince would fall over. Yukiya caught his eye and shook his head, a signal to stand down and give the Crown Prince some space.

Priests came out of one of the temple buildings and gave the Crown Prince a formal greeting. Then they led the Crown Prince and his guards up a hill, carrying hanging lanterns to illuminate the narrow path.

Their destination was the Clear Mirror Temple’s archives. The large building was well-ventilated and the bookshelves were raised above the ground to protect them from moisture and pests. There were comfortable alcoves for reading and studying set into one wall. Large writing desks were uncommon furniture in Yamauchi, but the priests here made extensive use of them. The desks used chairs from the human world and not cushions on the ground.

Natsuka, Rokon, and the Archpriest were already present in the archives.

“Sorry I’m late,” Nazukihiko said.

Natsuka nodded in acknowledgment. Rokon didn’t move a muscle. The Archpriest was so tired that he swayed on his feet.

Prince Natsuka was tall and solidly built, unlike his younger brother. Frown lines had etched recent wrinkles into his face. His long hair was cut straight and even; he wore it loose over his vestments and cloth-of-gold priest’s stole. He was tall for a Yatagarasu, and his bodyguard Rokon was even taller.

Like his lord, Rokon was a priest, but he didn’t look like one. He’d been born a nobleman—a close relation to the Lord of Nanke—but he always looked like a man out of place to Yukiya. His nose was as sharp as a chisel, his canines were unusually large, and his dark eyes shone like a hawk’s. His arm muscles bulged so much that his loose priest’s robes could scarcely contain them. Those robes were red and ornamented with golden wheels—a nod to his wealthy family’s heritage that stood out in this relatively austere temple.

Rokon’s personality was as unique as his appearance. To call him arrogant and insolent would be correct, but not complete. He remained near Natsuka, leaning casually against a wall. He gave Yukiya and the others a passing glance before closing his eyes and settling himself more comfortably against the wall.

Natsuka and the Archpriest were considerably more alert. They rose from their chairs and bowed.

“Your Imperial Highness, are you ill?” the Archpriest asked.

“If you’d told us you were in such a state, we would have come to you,” Natsuka said sharply. He rushed to his brother’s side.

“Don’t waste time on me,” Nazukihiko said. “There’s no telling when that monster will summon me again.”

Yukiya bit the inside of his mouth so that he wouldn’t say something he’d regret.

The Crown Prince was permitted two guards in the mountain god’s realm. These guards took shifts and could rest, but the Crown Prince was permitted almost no rest; he’d only been back to Yamauchi a handful of times during the past few months, and then only for a few hours at a time. He spent most of those precious hours repairing tears in the sky and the earth.

It was incredibly vexing for Yukiya to watch the Crown Prince destroy himself. There was nothing he could do or say to stop it.

“Sit down, at least,” Natsuka said. He guided the Crown Prince to the chair he’d been sitting in only moments before. He examined his brother critically in the light of the temple’s lamps and frowned severely. “You’ll kill yourself at this rate. You need rest; you can’t keep going like this. Is there some way to avoid going back to the mountain god’s realm?”

The Crown Prince slowly shook his head. “If I don’t return when I’m summoned, the mountain god will retaliate.”

Shigemaru shifted from foot to foot. “You found something, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called us here. Let’s hear it. Hopefully there will be time after this for His Imperial Highness to get some rest.”

The Archpriest blinked. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He held out a hand-bound booklet to the Crown Prince. “We found the personal diary of the Archpriest who lived a hundred years ago, during Naritsuhiko’s reign.”

The year before, Kozaru had told the Crown Prince that the Yatagarasu and the Kuisaru had once served the mountain god together. The Yatagarasu had not been able to independently verify this claim, but they’d been looking for evidence of it ever since. Natsuka had taken the lead in this investigation.

It became apparent almost immediately that many records of the past were missing. Yamauchi kept suspiciously few records. Eiju, the Yellow Raven who had accompanied Naritsuhiko through the Forbidden Gate a hundred years ago, was responsible for suppressing any information that might threaten his power. He’d seized control of Yamauchi after Naritsuhiko’s disappearance.

Eiju’s responsibility for this state of affairs was readily apparent. The first official act of his reign as Yellow Raven had been the commissioning of a wide-scale survey of Yamauchi’s historical records. Yukiya had learned of this during his time as a cadet at the Keisōin. He’d believed that Eiju meant to falsify records concerning himself in an attempt to solidify his power and Nanke’s place in the imperial government. Eiju was from the Nanke family, just like the current Empress.

And Eiju had good reasons to falsify records: he’d left his emperor—and a true Golden Raven—on the other side of the Forbidden Gate to die. He’d never told anyone what had happened to Naritsuhiko.

During Eiju’s reign, all of the books and records in the Imperial Palace were moved to the Palace Above the Clouds so that scholars could review them before returning them to the Imperial Palace’s archives.

“So this diary came from the Imperial Palace originally? It came here during Eiju’s records survey?” Yukiya asked.

“We believe so,” the Archpriest said. He touched the diary’s cover with great care and reverence. “The diary was made from scrap paper. The Archpriest’s words are recorded on the back of each piece of paper. We found it while we were restoring some old books.”

The former Archpriest had small, cramped handwriting. The pages of the diary were dense with text that wasn’t always legible.

Paper was a luxury product. A hundred years ago, it was an even more precious commodity. The former Archpriest hadn’t wasted a single inch of space on his diary pages: they were crammed full.

Natsuka’s brow furrowed. “I’ve read through the whole thing. It’s awful, but thanks to it, we know why so many records are missing.”

“Why?” Nazukihiko asked.

Natsuka looked down at the diary. “Eiju used his survey of historical documents to burn books. He didn’t try to falsify records. He destroyed them outright.”

The oldest book that most Yatagarasu would ever encounter was called the Tale of Yamauchi, a quasi-historical travelogue written by an unknown author traveling through Touke Territory in the distant past. It was written so vaguely that it was impossible to figure out what had actually happened during Yamauchi’s founding. The disconnected tales within it were considered legendary.

The documents that the members of the Four Families had handed over to Eiju had never been returned. The former Archpriest claimed that these had been burned wholesale: not a single one of their books had escaped the flames.

“When old classics weren’t returned, the Four Families made a fuss,” Natsuka said. “People at the time investigated where they’d gone, but they never found them. This journal tells us for a fact that they were burned. Eiju forced the White Raven’s priests to destroy them.” He tapped an open page in the diary which detailed the burning of these texts.

The former Archpriest had opposed this, of course, but he hadn’t been able to save many records. He’d witnessed multiple book burnings. Clerks who tried to save the books were fired or imprisoned. Some were executed. The former Archpriest had shown no open defiance because he was afraid. He’d kept his diary safe for the sake of his descendants, but he’d risked no more than that.

“He hated what Eiju was doing,” Natsuka said, pointing to another page. “But he didn’t try to stop it.”

Yukiya read: He has gone mad. This is a grave wrong, and those who try to save the books are severely punished.

Some parts of the diary were redacted—likely blotted out by the author’s own hand.

“It is very fortunate for us that his diary survived,” the Archpriest said grimly.

Shigemaru blinked. “But why would Eiju burn so many books? It makes no sense.”

“If we knew why, we wouldn’t have such a hard time piecing things together,” Natsuka said wearily.

“True,” the Crown Prince said, “so we must guess. What motive explains the mass burning of books?”

Yukiya frowned slightly. “He feared that something inconvenient would survive. Something that was common knowledge, perhaps? He did all this after returning to Yamauchi from the mountain god’s sacred realm. He commanded the White Raven to carry out the book burnings. Could he have been suppressing knowledge about the mountain god’s realm? So that no one would attempt to open the Forbidden Gate?”

Records of the mountain god were particularly scarce. Most Yatagarasu were not devout; they viewed the mountain god as a legendary figure. The few records of the mountain god’s realm that existed had always been restricted reading, available only to priests, emperors, and true Golden Ravens. The priests were well-equipped to erase all traces of the mountain god from their archives, unfortunately.

“Naritsuhiko feared the mountain god,” Nazukihiko said. “That’s why he sealed the Forbidden Gate. He was trying to protect us all. And Eiju erased that? He didn’t tell anyone what had happened—and worse, he suppressed knowledge that could have aided us in understanding why the Forbidden Gate wouldn’t open?”

“It seems so,” the Archpriest said. “Knowledge of the mountain god’s existence and Naritsuhiko’s final act might have been destabilizing to his power. People would have tried to rescue Naritsuhiko if they learned what had happened to him, for starters.”

Yukiya sank deeply into thought. He knew the mountain god only in the abstract, as an object of faith. The mountain god did not dwell in Yamauchi; perhaps he never had. But true Golden Ravens had a direct connection to the mountain god, who was made of flesh and blood like everyone else. Nazukihiko was born to serve the mountain god.

In the absence of a true Golden Raven, responsibility for serving the mountain god would have fallen on the emperor and the priests. With Naritsuhiko dead, that responsibility would have shifted to Eiju.

Two complete records of the mountain god and his realm had survived Eiju’s purge: The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions and Tale of Yamauchi.

The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions was purported to be dictated by the first true Golden Raven and recorded by the first White Raven. Historical scholars had discovered that the book was a compilation of the biographies of many true Golden Ravens; none of it dated from the time of Yamauchi’s founding.

Tale of Yamauchi was a travelogue and collection of legends compiled by noble travelers in Yamauchi’s early history. The authors had made pilgrimages from temple to temple, collecting stories and legends along the way. It was roughly contemporaneous with The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions. The origin story of Yamauchi that every child knew was recorded in its pages:

Once upon a time, the mountain god descended upon this land. Water overflowed from the mountain peaks. Trees blossomed and fruited. Ears of rice bowed heavily under the weight of the ripe grain.

And when the mountain god saw the fertility of the area, he commanded a golden raven to prepare the land for his purposes.

So the golden raven divided the land among his four children.

To his first child, he gave the eastern part, which was covered in wildflowers.

To his second child, he gave the southern part, which was full of orchards.

To his third child, he gave the western part, which was rich with rice and grain.

To his fourth child, he gave the northern part, where clear water flowed continuously from the mountains.

The four children promised the golden raven that they would protect the land that had been given to them, and that their descendants would protect the land after them.

This was the beginning of the four families and the four lands, and the beginning of the imperial family—and the golden raven.

It was significant that this story made no mention of the founding of Yamauchi’s imperial line, the Souke family. Other accounts passed down from the Four Families claimed that the founder of Souke was also a child of the first true Golden Raven, but no one knew if he was the eldest son, the youngest, or one of the middle children. Historical tradition accepted that the first true Golden Raven had five children, not four.

The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions claimed that the founder of Souke was the eldest son of a true Golden Raven, so tradition had some basis in recorded history. Every Yatagarasu knew that true Golden Ravens were real, if rare; the existence of the mountain god was a matter of debate in scholarly circles. Offerings were made to the mountain god in Yamauchi’s temples, of course, but that was all seen as pageantry and empty ritual. No one seriously believed that the mountain god had a tangible existence.

There were mentions of Tengu, the ancient trading partners of the Yatagarasu, in these old texts as well. Their reality was not open to debate; many Yatagarasu had seen them and had dealings with them.

The mountain god’s reality was uncertain specifically because few Yatagarasu had ever seen him—and there were no verifiable records of him ever being physically present in Yamauchi. Only the old story that schoolchildren learned claimed that the mountain god had descended upon Yamauchi.

“Why would people knowing about the mountain god’s existence trouble Eiju?” Shigemaru asked. “Why did he care so much about keeping the secret?”

Yukiya frowned. “The mountain god is not a god, but a monster.” He’d seen the thing up close and was not impressed. That evil, ugly creature had nearly boiled his brain in his skull. He’d nearly done the same to Chihaya. The monster was powerful, but it wasn’t worthy of anyone’s worship.

The mountain god’s dark, dead eyes troubled Yukiya more than anything. There was no compassion in those eyes, only a shrewd intelligence that liked to cause harm for its own sake. The Kuisaru were enemies of the Yatagarasu, and the mountain god was their leader—the worst of a bad lot.

“This is just my opinion,” Yukiya said to the Crown Prince, “but I can’t believe that your ancestors would willingly serve a monster like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the mountain god your ancestors served and the one we saw are not the same thing.”

Shigemaru and the Archpriest wore identical frowns.

Natsuka was looking at his brother’s face. “What do you think, Nazukihiko?”

The Crown Prince looked up from his hands. “I don’t know if my ancestors served the mountain god; I can’t remember. But when I came face-to-face with him, I could not defy him. My instincts as a true Golden Raven compelled me to obey him. He also caused earthquakes and tears in the sky, which means that he has power over Yamauchi. He made our weapons useless against the Kuisaru, too. He allows me to carry my bow, but not to draw it. All the weapons of my guards have melted the moment they step foot inside the mountain god’s realm. If that creature is not the mountain god my ancestors served, then he is something very similar to that god.”

There was a silence. Then Yukiya asked, “What if the mountain god was killed by this monster?”

“Killed?” Shigemaru asked, confused.

“I’ll explain,” Yukiya said. “We don’t have records of the Kuisaru, either, but they’ve invaded Yamauchi in recent years and they’re in the mountain god’s realm. The monster commands them, doesn’t he? And he has powers that are like the mountain god’s. He’s the mountain god of the Kuisaru—not of the Yatagarasu.”

Yukiya took a deep breath and made what he thought was the obvious conclusion: “I think the Kuisaru murdered the previous mountain god and seized his power while the Yatagarasu were absent.”

The Archpriest gaped at him. “You are suggesting that the mountain god has been usurped by the Kuisaru?”

“It fits,” Yukiya said. “It explains the current state of things, and why Eiju was trying to hide references to the mountain god and his realm. It’s just a theory, but I think it’s sound.”

If Naritsuhiko had died during a Kuisaru attack on the mountain god, that also fit. It explained why Naritsuhiko had chosen to seal the Forbidden Gate before his death. He’d feared Yamauchi being invaded by the Kuisaru and their corrupted mountain god. Moved by shame and motivated by greed, Eiju would have done his best to cover his tracks so that he could remain in power and prevent people from finding out about the mountain god.

“Think about what the Kuisaru said to us,” Yukiya said. “‘You’ll look after the mountain god, yes? You should be grateful to be given another chance’—they never said that the mountain god was the one that the Yatagarasu served before. Only that we were summoned to serve the mountain god, as we did in the past.”

The Archpriest nodded thoughtfully.

Shigemaru appeared skeptical. “But Eiju was a military commander and a general, wasn’t he? Why would he keep such a dangerous situation secret from everyone? If I were in his shoes, I’d be warning everyone and preparing our defenses.”

Natsuka tapped his chin. “It is possible that he assumed that the Forbidden Gate would never be opened again.”

That was true. Neither the Kuisaru nor the mountain god had the power to open the Forbidden Gate once it was sealed shut. Only a true Golden Raven could do that. Eiju had likely been aware of that.

Nazukihiko had been tricked into opening the gate by Kozaru. The only way for him to seal it shut again would be for him to go to the other side, sacrificing his own life as Naritsuhiko had done.

The Crown Prince appeared pained. He regretted opening the Forbidden Gate. He would willingly sacrifice himself if he knew that Yamauchi would be safe as a result, but right now, his people needed his powers to heal the land. He was torn between conflicting options, none of them good.

“If the mountain god can be killed,” Nazukihiko said slowly, “does the murderer become the next mountain god?”

“I think so,” Yukiya said. “We have to protect Yamauchi, and that means we need to kill the mountain god.”

The Crown Prince laughed, high-pitched and semi-hysterical. “You’re telling me to kill the mountain god. That’s something that only I could do.”

“Yes. Kill the mountain god, and become the new mountain god.” Yukiya was prepared to assist the Crown Prince with this task, even without weapons. The Crown Prince had his powers even when he was disarmed. There had to be some way to do this.

Killing the mountain god wouldn’t solve every problem that the Yatagarasu had; they’d still need to fight the Kuisaru afterward.

One step at a time.

The Crown Prince sighed. “We need more information. There is still much we do not understand about the relationship between the mountain god and Yamauchi. We must proceed with caution and explore other possibilities.”

“Agreed. It’s better not to rush,” Natsuka said. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

The Crown Prince smiled. “If killing the mountain god is our only path forward, then I will see it through. Somehow.”

“We will protect you no matter what path you walk,” Shigemaru said.

“You shouldn’t risk yourself unnecessarily,” Natsuka said, looking between Shigemaru and Nazukihiko. “None of you are expendable.”

Shigemaru shrugged. He’d become a member of the Yamauchishu for the same reason as Yukiya: all he wanted was to protect Yamauchi. He was always prepared for the worst.

Natsuka bowed his head. “I must rely on you, Yukiya and Shigemaru, to protect my brother in my place. What power and resources I have mean nothing in the mountain god’s realm.”

“We will protect him,” Yukiya said. “Don’t worry. We won’t fail.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Black clouds swirled above the Imperial Palace.

“The mountain god has summoned me back,” Nazukihiko said.

Shigemaru yawned. “Let’s go, then.”

***

“You’re late! What have you been doing all this time?!” The mountain god was enraged and stomped around the chamber as he interrogated Nazukihiko.

“I’m very sorry,” Nazukihiko said.

“I will not hear excuses, you disloyal wretch.” He growled low in his throat.

Ōzaru approached and whispered in the mountain god’s ear, “The raven feels no remorse whatsoever for his crimes. He must have forgotten your profound magnanimity in forgiving him. What a pathetic, miserable creature.”

“Repulsive,” the mountain god spat. “I shall eliminate him and his ilk in one fell swoop!”

The mountain god’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Nazukihiko winced and kept his head down. Any protests he made would fall on deaf ears. The mountain god was happy to insult Nazukihiko and yell at him, but he never listened to a word Nazukihiko said.

The mountain god prowled through his chamber, disturbing the dusty white rags that hung from the ceiling. Whenever Nazukihiko was summoned, Ōzaru would be present, whispering venom into the mountain god’s ears.

Nazukihiko lowered his head in submission and waited. The mountain god would go hoarse eventually.

To his great surprise, the mountain god ceased his tirade and was quiet for a full minute. He didn’t dare look up.

Then the mountain god clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Ōzaru nodded sympathetically. “I doubt such a feeble-minded creature can care for the goku appropriately.”

“Goku?” Nazukihiko asked.

Ōzaru pursed his lips. “Indeed. She didn’t come on time this year. She should arrive next year. You will care for her.”

“Who or what is a goku?” Nazukihiko asked.

“Have you forgotten?” Ōzaru asked, shaking his head. “A goku is an attendant of the mountain god. She will be a human girl sacrificed to him by her village during their annual festival.” He patted the mountain god’s head fondly. “The mountain god survives through being reborn into a different body every few decades. A human woman is necessary to care for him and raise him so that he matures.”

Nazukihiko frowned, confused. The mountain god looked quite a lot like a Kuisaru; he’d assumed that the god had Kuisaru origins. Why would such a god require a human woman’s service?

Had the mountain god been born from a human mother?

Ōzaru ignored Nazukihiko’s confusion. “It would be best if the woman who bore his current incarnation could serve him, but alas, that is not possible. That woman screamed and fled at the sight of her own son—can you believe it?” Ōzaru shook his head. “So she became food for the mountain god. A final act of service.”

Nazukihiko remembered finding the woman lying dead the first time he’d come here. That woman had been the mountain god’s mother. He suppressed a shudder as he realized that the mountain god had devoured his mother’s warm corpse without a care.

Ōzaru laughed derisively. “Anyway. We’ll be getting a new goku soon. You’ll be responsible for feeding and taking care of her. Make whatever preparations you require.”

Nazukihiko was dismissed shortly after that. It was a relief to put some distance between himself and the mountain god’s overwhelming presence. His mind was in a whirl.

Ichiryū and Chihaya rushed to Nazukihiko’s side the moment he left the mountain god’s presence.

“Are you injured?” Chihaya asked.

“No,” Nazukihiko said, his voice steady. “Let’s return to Yamauchi.” He preferred spending as little time in the mountain god’s realm as possible. His people shared this preference. They couldn’t fight effectively here—all their weapons were useless.

Chihaya and Ichiryū escorted Nazukihiko through the Forbidden Gate. Nazukihiko was thinking about the goku. He’d never heard of such a thing before today. Not for the first time, he cursed the lack of his ancestors’ memories.

Natsuka hadn’t ceased his investigation since they’d last spoken; if anything, he’d redoubled his efforts to look for old documents and books that had escaped Eiju’s purge. No new revelations had come to light yet.

If answers could not be found within Yamauchi, then it was time to seek assistance from beyond its borders.

“Request a messenger!” Nazukihiko called out, his voice firm and authoritative. “Contact the Tengu. I need to speak with Junten.”

***

On the southern slope of the mountain that housed the Imperial Palace, three majestic gates stood in a row. The Central Gate, nestled at the base of the mountain, loomed over a vast valley and was connected to a bridge that linked the bustling castle town to the mountain’s heights. Above the Central Gate was the Grand Gate, perched at the mountain’s summit; this gate was most frequently used by nobles and servants of the Imperial Palace. Between these two was the Gate of the Vermilion Bird, its presence commanding and vital.

The bridge over the gorge that led to the Central Gate connected to a road that cut a straight line to the east and west. To the east, the road became gentle and winding, creating an easy path up the mountain slope. High-end shops and restaurants were clustered on that road along with a handful of residences belonging to wealthy merchants. The western road was much steeper and more punishing to traverse, and that was the road that led to the Gate of the Vermilion Bird.

The Gate of the Vermilion Bird was Yamauchi’s window to the outside world. They communicated with the Tengu via this gate. It was never locked and almost always open. Gate guardians watched over it day and night to prevent theft and other trouble.

Nazukihiko had gone through the Gate of the Vermilion Bird when he was a child to study abroad. Very few people knew that his travels beyond it were not extensive. He was a true Golden Raven; tradition dictated that he could not be far from Yamauchi for any length of time.

Yukiya accompanied Nazukihiko for his visit to the Tengu, alert for danger but also openly curious. He’d never been anywhere near the Gate of the Vermilion Bird before. The gate itself closely resembled the Grand Gate in style; there was even a carriage yard built just like the Grand Gate’s nearby.

Unlike the Grand Gate, which was orderly and tidy, the Gate of the Vermilion Bird was something of a mess. Crates and boxes were stacked haphazardly all around it. A gaggle of merchants and officials fought one another over the boxes, red-faced and shouting. Goods were loaded onto waiting carts and carriages or secured to horses. People and beasts were constantly coming and going. Guards patrolled regularly along established paths: a thread of order in the tapestry of chaos. Yukiya doubted he’d ever be able to make sense of it all.

The Gate of the Vermilion Bird had two sets of double doors, both open; the space between was a small but bustling market. Metal rails had been laid in the market so that goods could be transported from place to place easily. Carts slid across the rails, whisper-quiet.

This was where goods from the human world were unloaded and inspected. Prices and other trade negotiations were conducted in this space. There were desks and chairs positioned along one wall so that merchants could meet and discuss such things.

Junten, the King of the Tengu, sat behind a desk with his fingers steepled. He wore a red mask with a long, stylized nose, a business suit, and leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. He caught sight of Nazukihiko and waved.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Nazukihiko said.

“Indeed, you should be. You summoned me, remember? I came here as fast as I could.” He didn’t sound annoyed, but matter-of-fact. He was speaking a language that Yukiya didn’t know.

“Your Imperial Highness?” Yukiya asked.

Nazukihiko gestured to Yukiya. “Let me introduce you to my personal guard. This is Yukiya.”

“Oh!” Junten switched to the Yatagarasu language. “I’ve heard of you. I’m delighted to finally meet you.”

Yukiya returned the greeting politely.

Junten waved his hand dismissively. “There’s no reason to be so formal,” he said. “I cannot remove my mask while I’m here. It’s unbearably hot and stuffy under here. Perhaps we could retire to somewhere more comfortable? I’d like to invite you to my humble home.” He said all this loudly enough for the patrolling guards to hear.

Yukiya frowned.

“I will personally guarantee Nazukihiko’s safety,” Junten added hastily.

Yukiya nodded. “All right, then.”

“Then it’s settled. Please wait here for just a moment.” He headed for one of the carts on rails. A short man stood there wearing a mask that looked a little like a raven’s head. He wore priest robes that were a bit too large for him. His gestures as he spoke to Junten were huge and animated.

Junten beckoned Nazukihiko and Yukiya over. The short man invited Nazukihiko to get into the cart with a broad sweep of his arm. Nazukihiko got in without hesitation, so Yukiya tried not to worry. The short man jumped in after him and started operating a series of levers and dials that made the cart move across the rails.

“Wait for me here,” Nazukihiko said.

“Are you sure?” Yukiya asked.

Nazukihiko nodded.

The cart left the bustling market and moved through a dim tunnel. It clattered and shook at first, but it started moving smoothly after a few minutes. As Nazukihiko traveled in the cart, he felt the air around him change subtly; he knew that he had entered the human world.

The cart moved at a steady pace until they reached a forbidding stretch of metal wall. It looked like a dead end, but it wasn’t one. Nazukihiko and Junten jumped off the cart; Junten tapped the wall, causing it to whir to life. The wall lifted up and out of the way in motorized sections. Junten had informed Nazukihiko that this wall was called a garage door by humans.

A large warehouse opened out before them.

“We’ll be able to use electronics now,” Junten said.

“I really wish we could have electricity in Yamauchi,” Nazukihiko said. “It would make so many things easier.”

“You say that, but you ruined a cell phone the other day.”

“Yeah. The circuits all rusted out.”

“That was expensive, you know,” Junten said resentfully. He removed his mask and took a deep, cleansing breath. “Your predecessors learned that human technology doesn’t work in Yamauchi. I think we can stop testing that.”

The cart driver waved. “I’ll be in the annex. Send word when you want to go home, Nazukihiko.” He hopped off the cart.

“Thank you, Mr. Hara,” Nazukihiko said.

“Honestly. Who’s the boss around here, him or me?” Junten muttered as he tucked his mask carefully under one arm. His silver-rimmed spectacles framed lively, intelligent brown eyes. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks. If he were wearing casual clothing, he could easily be mistaken for a university student.

Sunlight streamed through the warehouse windows, warm and cheerful. It was a clear day; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Nazukihiko paused to enjoy the view for a few moments. It had been so long since he’d seen the sun in Yamauchi.

The sunlight revealed that Junten’s hair color was slightly different from what Nazukihiko remembered. “Did you dye your gray hair?” he asked.

“Hah. You say the funniest things.” His tone was light, but his eyes were hard. Nazukihiko suspected that he didn’t appreciate that question. Junten had helped him a lot as a child, so he shrugged and changed the subject.

Nazukihiko wasn’t sure why Junten seemed to care so much about his age. Plenty of people dyed their hair; there was no shame in it. Junten hadn’t visibly aged since Nazukihiko had met him; his skin was free of wrinkles and he had a youthful, exuberant personality. Simultaneously ancient and childish, Junten wore his few insecurities with ill grace.

The warehouse was near a large expanse of swampland that Nazukihiko could see through the windows. The humans called this area the Dragon Marsh. A small mountain, Mt. Ara, was visible some distance away. There was a shrine built on the peak that few humans ever visited. Nazukihiko could see red shrine gates and a winding stone staircase leading up to the mountain’s summit.

During his time studying abroad, Nazukihiko had climbed Mt. Ara a handful of times. There was an old shrine on the peak and a cave system eroded into the mountain that he’d spent some time exploring. The mountain god’s realm might connect to the human world in those caves, but he had yet to verify that in person.

A small village called Sannai was built at the foot of the mountain, nestled in the Dragon Marsh. This warehouse had a view of the village across the marsh, but it wasn’t part of Sannai. This place had been a trading post where the Tengu and Yatagarasu could meet for generations.

At first glance, the warehouse appeared drab and ordinary—that was the point. Goods passed in and out of this place with some regularity, with imports finding their way through the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. There were Tengu guards who worked in shifts to keep the way to Yamauchi safe and secret.

Mr. Hara was the warehouse’s general manager. Nazukihiko had reached out to him to arrange a meeting with Junten, the King of the Tengu. Junten was a man on the move in the human world; he never remained in one place for very long.

Junten led Nazukihiko further inside the warehouse to a furnished apartment with a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. The apartment was lavish, matching Junten’s taste. There was a brand new television in an entertainment center in the living room. One of the dining room walls was an aquarium full of brightly colored tropical fish.

Junten put a tea kettle on the stove and then leaned against his sink. “So? What on earth happened over there?”

Nazukihiko frowned. “We’ll talk over tea.” He helped Junten set the table as the water boiled on the stove. When the tea was served, Nazukihiko told Junten about the past few months in Yamauchi.

Junten remained silent, thinking. Then he said, “So you believe that the villagers are sacrificing human girls to the mountain god.”

Nazukihiko nodded. “He needs to switch bodies regularly, at fixed intervals. So he needs a woman to bear and raise him.”

“And when they’re no longer useful to him, he kills them? How stupid,” Junten said. His face twisted in disgust. “The villagers dress up human sacrifice as service to a god to ease their consciences. It’s a barbaric practice, and not something I’ve heard of before.”

“Neither have I,” Nazukihiko said. “Can you find out anything about the mountain god’s realm? Maybe there are old records of it somewhere.”

Junten shrugged. “We have some records of the past—mostly of transactions between the Yatagarasu and the Tengu. I don’t know how useful that information will be to you.”

“Anything that you can provide might be of use,” Nazukihiko said, doing his best to hide his disappointment.

“I can do some investigating on your behalf,” Junten said. “That’s one benefit of living in the human world.”

Nazukihiko lifted his head.

Junten was staring at him, his cup of tea steaming on the wooden table. “If what you’ve told me is true, then the mountain god’s realm has been corrupted in some way. I doubt that things can keep going as they are.”

“Why do you think that?” Nazukihiko asked.

“Because gods don’t eat people,” Junten said. “Not the ones I know of, anyway. Any god that does that becomes a monster. And monsters attract attention that usually gets them killed in short order.”

Nazukihiko frowned slightly; he wasn’t quite sure of what Junten meant.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand this instinctively like I do,” Junten said. “You have your own world; you don’t need to live among the humans like we Tengu do. We can’t exist without humans. They’ve more or less defined us and our capabilities.

“But the humans don’t know that the Yatagarasu exist,” Junten added. “I didn’t know until I became the King of the Tengu. Your existence is a well-kept secret. I’ve always thought that was somewhat strange. Your people are well-placed to hide, even in this modern era of technology and cameras.” He tapped his teacup gently with one claw, creating a tinkling sound. “I believe that the Yatagarasu used to have more of a presence in the human world, but that changed when the Forbidden Gate was sealed. The Yatagarasu have been mostly on their own for the better part of a century. No one remembers exactly where you came from, but you and your people have human forms, which points to humans being involved in some way. I think that you should focus on finding a way to coexist with the humans, much as we Tengu do.” He looked out the window.

Nazukihiko followed his gaze. He saw nothing but the Dragon Marsh, the water shining in the sun.

“The man-eating monster you’ve told me of is clever, for a creature of its type,” Junten said. “Fear is one way to gain reverence. But it’s not the mountain god your people once worshiped; so much seems certain. That god would have been worshiped sincerely by humans and Yatagarasu alike. Something changed—something that made the god devour his worshipers.”

Nazukihiko nodded. “So?”

“So? Gods need humans, just like we Tengu do. Without them, we don’t exist. Think of humans as a fruit tree, and non-humans as the forest creatures that rely on its yield for survival. The mountain god used to be satisfied by the fruit of the tree—until one day, when he decided to attack the tree’s roots and devour them instead. The tree withers and dies then, and there’s no more fruit. The mountain god’s greed will result in the forest’s starvation.”

Nazukihiko remembered sagecap, the drug that the Kuisaru had peddled in Yamauchi. That drug caused euphoria in small doses, but hopeless addiction in large ones. Addicts lost their ability to take human form—and eventually, they died. There was no antidote for the drug, which acted as a slow poison. No Yatagarasu who’d taken it even once had survived for long.

What if sagecap was like the greed of the mountain god, devouring the roots of a Yatagarasu’s mind and existence? That might be why Yatagarasu who took the drug lost the ability to take human form.

“Eating humans is taboo, even among the humans themselves,” Junten said. “For a god to devour humans is unnatural. The mountain god has exchanged his godhood for reverence through fear. He is certain to be slain by a hero in due course. His destruction is all but guaranteed.”

A shiver went up Nazukihiko’s spine. “What must be done to bring that destruction about?”

“Who knows?” Junten asked. “You wouldn’t understand that unless you became the mountain god yourself.” Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. “There is power in self-recognition: understanding who and what we are.” He got to his feet and looked into his aquarium. Slowly, he settled one hand atop the clean water and let it drift down. “Your people are like these fish: imprisoned within specific boundaries. You can gain power and knowledge inside your aquarium, but that power and knowledge is practically useless outside it.

“These fish also can’t feed themselves. If I forget, or if I forget to clean the tank periodically, the fish will die. I don’t even need to do anything for the fish to die; simple neglect would kill them all. Your mountain god has neglected you. If things keep going as they are, then Yamauchi will be swallowed up by the human world, along with all of your people.”

Nazukihiko said nothing. His tea had gone cold.

“You don’t need to look so glum,” Junten said. “Yamauchi’s origin is likely connected to humans in some way. If that’s the case, then the humans have always had some control over it. You don’t have the power to save your world and prevent human interference, but that might not be a bad thing.”

He sighed heavily. “Think of some way for the Yatagarasu to survive. The Kuisaru have done that, albeit badly. If the Yatagarasu lose their power and their understanding of who they are, they will be lost. That is true of every supernatural creature. Death by violence is not the worst fate that can befall us: that is oblivion—a forgetting so complete that there can be no remembering.

“What makes us who we are is not genetic heritage or divine powers, but simple self-awareness. The mountain god has forgotten himself, so he and his realm will fall. Yamauchi is connected to it and will suffer. Who knows what will happen to the Yatagarasu in the aftermath, but… well, I think you should prepare as much as you can. Self-awareness is what you must cling to now. Forget who you are, and it’s over.”

Nazukihiko smiled tightly. “I am not able to forget who I am. And I don’t want to.” He wanted to remember. What, exactly, had happened a hundred years ago? What had happened with the mountain god and the Kuisaru?

What am I? Nazukihiko thought, not for the first time.

“My problem is the memories I have lost,” Nazukihiko said.

***

“Shigemaru, it’s time to get up.”

Shigemaru jolted awake. It was dawn. Akeru stood at his bedside, looking down.

“Good morning,” Shigemaru grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning,” Akeru said.

Shigemaru had come to the Sun Palace with Sumio a few hours before. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he’d definitely needed the rest. It was time for him to go back to guard duty. He stretched as he sat up.

Sumio was in the same room, preparing for departure almost silently. Chihaya was sleeping like the dead; he’d recently returned from guarding the Forbidden Gate.

The Crown Prince had already been summoned back to the mountain god’s realm. The mountain god never let him stay in Yamauchi for long.

It had been six months since Nazukihiko had sworn to serve the mountain god. Very little had been done to fix things in Yamauchi since then. The mountain god didn’t seem to care how much the Yatagarasu or Nazukihiko suffered. Every time the monstrous being lost his temper, earthquakes shook Souke Territory. The former capital was full of dangerous cracks in the earth and sky. People spoke about the ghost lights they saw through these cracks in hushed whispers, terrified of what was happening to their homeland.

Yamauchi’s existence was hanging by a thread. If the Yatagarasu only had the Kuisaru to contend with, then they might devise a plan and fight back effectively.

There was no fighting a monster who held the existence of the world in his hands. There wasn’t any safe place to run to. The Yatagarasu were exhausted and scared, and there was no plan to save them.

Distant thunder shook the ground. Shigemaru looked up at the overcast sky through the windows. “Why can’t we just seal the Forbidden Gate again?” he asked.

“The Crown Prince tried,” Sumio said. “The mountain god is keeping it open by force. There’s no way to seal it shut.”

The Forbidden Gate was made of wood in the mountain god’s realm—at least, it had been originally. After the Crown Prince had opened the gate, the wood had changed to stone. The gate was now harder to close and to damage. Guards stationed at the Forbidden Gate in Yamauchi had all tried to close it together, but they’d failed.

The mountain god was watching the Forbidden Gate very closely. It had been sealed shut once; it seemed that the mountain god never wanted it to close again.

The human woman was supposed to arrive in the mountain god’s realm soon. The mountain god and the Kuisaru had been making preparations for her arrival for days. The room that the woman who’d died had stayed in was unusable; she’d given birth on the floor there, and the stone was covered in bloodstains that couldn’t be scrubbed out.

Nazukihiko had explored the cave system that the mountain god lived in and found a corner that might be usable for the woman. He’d been helping to clear that area out and make it livable.

Most of the mountain god’s realm was contained within these caves and tunnels. Like the mountain god, the Kuisaru preferred to live underground. Yukiya wanted to know how many Kuisaru there were in the mountain god’s realm, and how many caves and tunnels there were. Nazukihiko started making a map in secret.

Fortunately, the mountain god frowned on his servants fighting one another physically. The Yatagarasu and the Kuisaru often worked side-by-side in the caves, but they rarely spoke to one another. The Kuisaru limited their obvious hostility to rude stares. They hated the Yatagarasu, but they weren’t willing to start a fight where the mountain god could see them.

Nazukihiko’s map helped put things into perspective. The mountain god’s realm was confined to the interior of Mt. Ara. There was one entrance to the human world: a red shrine gate near a deep, cold spring. Rock walls enclosed the mountain’s summit, making it impassable from the outside. The mountain god and the Kuisaru lived within the mountain. Most of the chambers and tunnels were unused. The area connected to the Forbidden Gate saw the most traffic. The Kuisaru living and sleeping quarters were regularly manned, but the Kuisaru rarely ventured far beyond them.

The Crown Prince told his guards about the shrine gate, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to explore beyond it. He guessed that it connected to the human world, but he didn’t know precisely where. His knowledge of geography in the human world was limited.

Little by little, Nazukihiko’s map of the mountain god’s realm became more detailed. He had to be careful when he was working on it so that the Kuisaru didn’t discover what he was doing. He understood the map’s utility and why Yukiya had asked for it to be made, but it didn’t give him any new insights about his situation.

“Do you ever wonder what the mountain god used to be like?” Shigemaru asked as he pulled on his boots. He had a little time; the Crown Prince would return here briefly to collect him for his guard shift in the mountain god’s realm.

“You’re asking me?” Akeru raised an eyebrow. He was lying down, preparing to take a nap before his next guard shift.

“They say there are no records, but back at the Keisōin, we had to memorize history books, right?”

“Yeah,” Akeru said. “So? Spit it out.”

“In The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions, there’s that story about the mountain god, remember? It goes like this: ‘Once upon a time, the mountain god descended upon this land. Water overflowed from the mountain peaks. Trees blossomed and fruited. Ears of rice bowed heavily under the weight of the ripe grain.’”

Akeru nodded.

“The mountain god descended upon this land,” Shigemaru said. “That means he came here from elsewhere, doesn’t it? That’s how someone would describe it if they saw the mountain god coming to Yamauchi from somewhere.”

“You’re right,” Akeru said.

“And the mountain god only came here because the Yatagarasu guided him to Yamauchi.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Shigemaru scratched his head. “Like… I’m just comparing it to the stories I heard about the mountain god in Shimaki Village. The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions tells one story, but it doesn’t quite fit with the one I know.”

“And what’s that?” Akeru asked. He sat up so that he wouldn’t fall asleep.

Shigemaru cleared his throat. “Uh, it goes something like this. ‘A long, long time ago, the soil was sick and nothing would grow. All you could eat were nuts and earthworms. Then the mountain god came, and the soil got better and everything grew. Rain fell more often and rice started growing in the fields.’”

Akeru’s eyes widened slightly. “I’ve never heard a story like that one before.”

“I have,” Sumio said. “People in my hometown tell a similar tale.”

“What about you, Chihaya?” Shigemaru asked. He nudged Chihaya where he was sleeping. “Your sister sings a lot of story-songs, right?”

Chihaya groaned and covered his head with a blanket.

Shigemaru pulled the blanket down.

Chihaya’s younger sister, Yui, was a blind singer. She and her brother had grown up in Nanke Territory.

Shigemaru repeated his version of the story to a bleary-eyed Chihaya.

“The gist is the same,” Chihaya said. “I heard that story a lot growing up.”

Shigemaru nodded. “So, these stories—in them, there’s always someone who guides the mountain god to a part of Yamauchi that’s in trouble. And then the mountain god helps the people.”

“You notice interesting things, Shigemaru,” Sumio said. “In The Fundamental Principles of the Mountainous Regions, the mountain god gives the Golden Raven’s four children the right to rule the territories. That implies that they weren’t in control before. The mountain god picked them and the Golden Raven and empowered them to rule.”

“Exactly!” Shigemaru was nodding more enthusiastically now. “There are no bad stories about the mountain god, are there? He always helps the Yatagarasu…”

…so why was the mountain god evil now? What had happened?

Silence fell as Shigemaru and the others pondered these questions. If Yukiya was right, then the mountain god had been replaced by a monster a century ago. That meant the Yatagarasu were now serving the enemy of their own god.

“We have no choice but to kill that monster,” Sumio muttered darkly.

“Will killing him change anything?” Akeru asked. “I’m not sure.”

“If Yukiya’s theory is right, Nazukihiko should become the next mountain god,” Sumio said.

“But the Kuisaru won’t let that stand,” Akeru said.

“If it comes to that—we’ll fight with everything we’ve got.”

There was a gasp from the doorway. Masuho no Susuki stood there, covering her mouth. She calmed herself with great effort and then said, “It is almost time for His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince to return, so I brought this…” She hugged a cloth bundle to her chest.

Akeru walked over to his older sister. “You didn’t need to go out of your way to bring him a change of clothes,” he said.

Masuho no Susuki bit her lip. “My resources are limited at Shion Temple. This is the only thing I can do, so please let me do it.”

Akeru frowned.

Masuho no Susuki bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just worry. Isn’t there any way to avoid fighting? When there is violence, everyone loses.”

Akeru had no idea what to say.

Shigemaru scratched the back of his head and looked down.

Chihaya was still in his bed, looking up at the ceiling. “The Kuisaru attacked us first,” he said quietly. “The fighting started with them, and we have to defend ourselves. It doesn’t mean we want to fight. We have to.”

“Do you?” Masuho no Susuki asked. “Isn’t there another way?”

“You want us to negotiate with murderers,” Chihaya said. It wasn’t quite a question.

“I want the fighting to stop,” Masuho no Susuki said. “The longer it goes on, the more victims there are. I can’t understand it. I don’t want anyone to be hurt. Is it wrong to want peace?”

Chihaya’s jaw clenched.

Masuho no Susuki looked around the room. “Do any of you agree with me?” she asked.

Akeru understood his sister’s reasoning. No one wanted any Yatagarasu to come to harm. Unfortunately, things weren’t that simple. “Sister, we are not warriors,” he said softly. “We are protected by warriors. If we were not, we would be hurt as well. The Yatagarasu are not the aggressors in this war, but if they do not fight back, they will be slaughtered.”

Masuho no Susuki bristled. She was about to retort when the Crown Prince tapped her shoulder from behind.

“Enough, Masuho no Susuki,” Nazukihiko said. “Enough.” He had entered the Sun Palace quietly in an attempt to give his guards as much time to rest as possible.

Ichiryū and other Yamauchishu were lined up behind him, awaiting orders. They looked embarrassed at walking in on an argument.

“The human women who come to the mountain god’s realm die,” Nazukihiko said. “All of them die. If you cannot understand why we oppose a monster who murders women, then I must alter my evaluation of your thinking. So calm yourself, and cease arguing. Please.”

Masuho no Susuki pursed her lips. “All right. I wasn’t calm; I apologize for that. But I would give my life to prevent violence. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

Shigemaru coughed and thought, This isn’t good.

Sumio sighed heavily. “First Duchess of Saike, be reasonable.”

Being addressed by her formal title made Masuho no Susuki flinch. Sumio had never addressed her so formally before.

“You have no understanding of matters in the mountain god’s realm,” Sumio continued. “And you don’t understand the sacrifices that Yamauchi’s warriors make so that you and other civilians can live in safety. Your lack of gratitude and insight is unbecoming.”

Masuho no Susuki flushed scarlet. “Of course I’m grateful,” she spluttered. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up.” Sumio gave her a sharp glare. “Women have no part in this.”

The color drained from Masuho no Susuki’s face. She swallowed and then bowed deeply. She left without excusing herself. No one called her back.

“I’m sorry about that,” Nazukihiko said.

Sumio made a dismissive gesture. “It’s fine.”

“I should have talked to her,” Akeru said. “I’m sorry, too. I froze.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sumio said. “It’s time for guard duty.” He went to Nazukihiko’s side. Chihaya got up reluctantly and pulled on his boots.

As Chihaya readied his weapons, he glanced over at Sumio. “Should you really have said all that? It might have been overkill.”

“You don’t want her to get involved in what we’re doing, right?” Sumio asked.

“Of course not.”

“Masuho no Susuki’s never liked me, anyway. I don’t mind being disliked if it keeps people safe.”

“But you—” Chihaya was about to say more, but the look on Sumio’s face told him that he would hear no arguments. His mouth snapped shut.

***

It started raining in the middle of the night, cold and unforgiving. The wind blew, battering the rain against the Sun Palace’s windows.

Masuho no Susuki fled from the Sun Palace in a rush. She shivered on her horse as she flew toward Shion Temple. By the time she arrived, she was chilled to the bone.

“What in the world has happened to you?!” Kikuno asked her. She used to serve as Masuho no Susuki’s personal attendant. After Masuho no Susuki had become Hamayū’s personal attendant, Kikuno had remained in Sakura Palace to help them both manage day-to-day affairs. She assisted Masuho no Susuki in her duties in Shion Temple now.

Shion Temple had been converted into a hospital after the first terrible earthquake had rocked Yamauchi. Yamauchi’s court ladies assisted the physicians with treating the gravely injured. Masuho no Susuki had seen so many hopeless cases that she felt powerless. She did all she could to assist Hamayū and the other court ladies with their work, but the constant stream of injured and dying people entering Shion Temple made her feel like everything she did was pointless.

Hamayū did not flinch from her responsibilities. Turning Shion Temple into a hospital had been her idea, and she had made the arrangements to make it happen.

Masuho no Susuki felt like she was only consulted by others because it was customary or expected. No one needed her input here. She thought about her old life, when Kikuno would ask her what color kimono she would wear for the day. It had been easy for her to form an opinion and point to a kimono, but did decisions like that really matter? She felt like they didn’t.

None of her decisions seemed to matter these days. None of her decisions had mattered back then, either. She hadn’t even considered the process by which her clothes were created until she’d become a personal attendant: the army of dyers, tailors, weavers, and embroiderers that went into making a single outfit was staggering in size and skill. She benefited from the labor of others, but she didn’t perform labor herself. Whenever she tried to do something worthwhile, Kikuno would blush and say, “Please stay by the Princess of Sakura Palace’s side.”

Masuho no Susuki felt frustrated, and she knew she was panicking. She’d gotten into an argument with the Crown Prince’s guards because of that. She hadn’t meant to insult them or cause a fight. She was near tears, hating what she’d said and done. She told Kikuno what she’d said as she changed out of her wet clothes.

Kikuno gave her a pained smile. “There are some matters that we should leave to the men,” she said. “You shouldn’t try to discourage them.”

“I know,” Masuho no Susuki said. “But I hate fighting. I don’t want anyone else to be injured or killed. I want to do something, but there’s nothing I can do.” She shook her head. “I thought that by becoming an attendant, I could shed my past and forge my own future. But I can’t. I’m still a spoiled, selfish duchess who is ignorant of the ways of the world. It’s mortifying.”

“Why?” Kikuno asked. “There is no shame in being who you are. To expect yourself to be different is foolish.”

Masuho no Susuki smiled slightly. “So you’re saying my selfishness and ignorance aren’t things that I can change? That they’re inevitable because of my upbringing?”

“I am saying that you are who you are. If you wish to change, you can, but to expect yourself to change overnight, or all at once, is completely unreasonable. Some of your choices are certainly not selfish or ignorant.”

“They aren’t?” Masuho no Susuki asked.

“You are an attendant,” Kikuno said. “You serve another. The Princess of Sakura Palace is in residence, and she wishes to speak to you. She has need of you. If you wish to learn and be less selfish, then serve.”

Masuho no Susuki nodded. “Very well.”

Kikuno accompanied Masuho no Susuki to Hamayū’s private chamber, which was deep within Shion Temple. The room was practically bare; Hamayū had few possessions and no desire for ostentation. She used to reside in a much larger suite, but she’d moved out of it so that there would be more space in the temple to house patients. The rice mat floor was clean, but there were no rugs to soften it. Hamayū slept on the same style of futon as patients, commoners, and monks.

Some of the court ladies couldn’t bear living so austerely and had taken lodgings elsewhere in the Palace Above the Clouds. Masuho no Susuki remained stubbornly at Hamayū’s side; she would never move away from her.

“Oh, you’re here?” Hamayū asked. She sat at a writing desk with one knee raised, supporting her chin. She used an oil lamp rather than a hanging lantern because it was cheaper to operate. The harsh orange-brown light made Hamayū look like a clay doll.

“Please sit down,” Hamayū said. She gestured toward a round cushion.

Masuho no Susuki and Kikuno sat down, with Kikuno seated diagonally behind Masuho no Susuki. Masuho no Susuki knew that Hamayū had left the temple on an errand, but she had no idea what that errand was.

“May I ask where you went?” Masuho no Susuki asked.

“To the Lord of Saike’s main estate,” Hamayū said.

“To my father?” Masuho no Susuki asked.

“That’s right.” Hamayū smiled. “Your father wrote to me. He’s worried about you being in danger in Souke Territory. He wants you to come home to Saike Territory.”

Masuho no Susuki had received several letters from her father requesting her to come home. She’d ignored all of them. Was Hamayū going to command her to leave now? She hoped not.

“It took a lot of time to negotiate with him, but he finally consented to let you remain here,” Hamayū said. “On the condition that you become the Crown Prince’s concubine.”

“What?”

“This is a command, Masuho no Susuki. Return to secular life and serve as the Crown Prince’s concubine.”

Lightning flashed outside the window, followed by distant thunder. Masuho no Susuki did not move. She wasn’t certain she’d heard Hamayū correctly.

“What are you saying?” Masuho no Susuki asked hoarsely.

Hamayū gave her a sad smile. “I can’t have children. The Crown Prince needs a concubine.”

Masuho no Susuki knew that it was critical for the Crown Prince to get an heir. She hadn’t known that Hamayū was barren until this very moment, and the knowledge shocked her. Hamayū and Nazukihiko were like two puppies with opposing personalities fighting in a field of flowers: both fierce and stubborn, but in different ways. She’d found herself wondering what kind of child they would have.

Hamayū didn’t seem distressed at being unable to have children, which made Masuho no Susuki feel even worse.

“You will bear the Crown Prince’s child in my place,” Hamayū said. “Do you understand, Masuho no Susuki?”

Masuho no Susuki stared at Hamayū in a daze.

***

The goku arrived in the mountain god’s realm at the start of summer.

Nazukihiko had expected to see a young woman, but the Kuisaru brought a young girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, in a palanquin. The girl purified herself in the spring as she was told, and then she was dragged before the mountain god.

The poor girl was absolutely terrified.

Akeru had never seen a human before and was taken aback at how much she resembled a Yatagarasu in human form. She wasn’t pretty or ugly; she was a child with tears streaming down her face.

The girl tried speaking to him in a human language that Akeru didn’t understand. He could tell from her expression that she was overwhelmed by despair. She appealed to the Crown Prince—who understood her words—to send her back to her world.

The Kuisaru had said that the villagers would offer up a woman as a sacrifice; they’d never said that the sacrifice needed to consent to serve the mountain god. Clearly, this girl had not consented. If she kept crying and resisting, she might die like her predecessor.

It would be troublesome if the girl escaped, and even more troublesome if she died. The Crown Prince issued commands to his attendants to keep the girl under guard at all times.

Shigemaru hung back from the others, looking the girl up and down critically. “Amazing,” he said. “She looks just like us, doesn’t she?”

Chihaya grimaced, clearly distressed by the girl’s tears.

The day after the girl arrived, Akeru found Chihaya cooking in the Sun Palace’s kitchen. “What are you doing at this hour?” he asked.

Chihaya didn’t even raise his head.

Akeru peeked over his shoulder and saw that there was a rice ball wrapped around pickled plums in his hands.

The Crown Prince’s attendants had been providing meals for the girl, but she hadn’t touched them. Perhaps she didn’t like her rice plain? Akeru had never tried feeding her pickled plums before.

“Do you think she doesn’t like rice?”

“I don’t know,” Chihaya said.

Akeru and Chihaya knew that rice was a staple food in the human world because the Crown Prince had told them so. It seemed unlikely that the girl would dislike rice. She hadn’t said she disliked the food; she simply refused to eat it.

Chihaya formed rice balls without looking up. Both he and Shigemaru had younger sisters. Seeing the girl in such a state made them feel especially sorry for her.

Akeru sighed heavily. “We can’t be spending all of our time on this girl. We serve the Crown Prince and need to think of our own people.”

Chihaya smirked. “Sounds like something Yukiya would say.”

“He did say it,” Akeru said. “How did you know?”

“I’ve met Yukiya.”

Akeru was briefly speechless. Like Chihaya and Shigemaru, he had a sister. He didn’t like seeing the girl cry any more than they did. When he’d left the mountain god’s realm for the first time after meeting the girl, he’d been deeply troubled.

Yukiya had met him at the Forbidden Gate and noticed his expression. “Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment,” he’d said. “We’re not sworn to protect humans, but Yatagarasu.”

Akeru shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Chihaya’s smirk changed to something more muted. Akeru had known him long enough to read subtle changes in his facial expressions.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “You know how Yukiya is.”

“I do. He only said that because his own feelings are clouded. It’s a reminder to himself as much as us.”

Akeru chuckled. Yukiya never let his feelings show, not ever. “I think it’s more likely that he’s worried about our attention being split. The Crown Prince is in more danger than he’s ever been in before.”

“Both can be true at the same time.” Shigemaru popped his head into the kitchen. “I suspect that Yukiya worries about us, too. He sees our safety as his responsibility.”

Chihaya and Akeru exchanged glances.

Shigemaru waved. “Yo! It’s time to go!”

Akeru frowned. “Wait. Why do you think Yukiya is worried about us?”

“Because he said the same thing to me about the girl and feelings and stuff.”

Chihaya stared at him.

“What?” Shigemaru asked. “We talked before.”

***

After Shigemaru completed his guard shift in the mountain god’s realm, Yukiya summoned him to a room in the Sun Palace. He sat down with Shigemaru and said, “You needn’t show compassion to the girl. She has nothing to do with us.”

Shigemaru blanched. “There’s no reason to be cruel to her. What’s gotten into you? Have you been telling the others to ignore her?”

Yukiya frowned. “I don’t care what happens to her, and neither should you.”

Shigemaru shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t get you sometimes.”

Yukiya’s cold blue eyes fixed on him. “I’m concerned about you,” he said. “If something happens to that girl, you might react badly or try to intervene. That would go badly for you. I care about that.”

Shigemaru wanted to say that Yukiya was perfectly capable of caring about his own well-being as well as the girl’s, but he didn’t. Yukiya wouldn’t listen. He never listened when he was in this mood.

Shigemaru leaned forward and ruffled Yukiya’s hair, just as he’d done when Yukiya was way shorter than him.

Yukiya shrieked and jumped back. “Hey, what are you doing?! I’ve got a lecture at the Keisōin this afternoon!” He scowled, his hair an absolute mess.

Shigemaru thought that Yukiya hadn’t changed at all since they’d first met. “You should be nicer to people, or you won’t have any friends.”

“Look who’s talking,” Yukiya muttered as he fruitlessly attempted to straighten his hair. “I understand that you pity the girl. But you shouldn’t be more concerned about her than your own comrades. Remember that. It’s better not to let your emotions cloud your judgment at all. Feeling sorry for someone won’t save them. If you feed a stray dog you don’t intend to keep, it’ll rummage through the kitchen and steal your food. Pity without long-term planning is just self-gratification.”

Shigemaru put his hands on his hips, looked down, and let out an exaggerated “Hah.” He chuckled. “Tell me how you really feel, Yukiya. As for me, I see nothing wrong with acting to please myself. Maybe my pitying the girl will accomplish nothing, or maybe it will. There’s no way to know for sure, and pretending not to care makes you look like a heartless bastard.”

“People already think I’m a heartless bastard,” Yukiya pointed out. “Are you trying to warn me about my reputation getting worse?”

“The good parts of you become harder for others to see when you say cruel things. Stop pretending to be a selfish, arrogant noble; it doesn’t suit you.” He flicked Yukiya’s forehead.

Yukiya leaned back and rubbed above his nose. “Fine, Shige. I listen to you, y’know, even if I don’t always do as you say.”

***

“So, that’s what he said to me,” Shigemaru said to Akeru and Chihaya. “He’s just worried about us, so don’t take what he says too seriously.”

Chihaya looked exasperated. “Are you his mother or something?”

“I’m his friend, same as you guys.” He laughed lightly and then headed to his bed to sleep.

The rice balls that Chihaya had made returned to the kitchen late the next day untouched, just like the rest of the food they’d prepared for the girl.

No one could have predicted that the girl, who was growing weak from a lack of food, was actually plotting her escape.

On the eleventh day after the girl’s arrival, Akeru and the Crown Prince were deep in the tunnels, working on the map of the mountain god’s realm.

“Your Highness, I have terrible news!” a Yamauchishu shouted from down the tunnel. He was out of breath. “The girl is gone.”

***

Yukiya was taking a nap with Chihaya in the Sun Palace. Just as he was about to drift off, Akeru’s shout made him sit up, wide awake.

Akeru shouldn’t be here. He was supposed to be in the mountain god’s realm with the Crown Prince.

“Yukiya, you have to get up right now,” Akeru said. “Go to the mountain god’s realm.”

“What? Why?”

“The girl escaped,” Akeru said. “This is bad; this is very bad…”

Yukiya sprang out of bed, thinking, Escaped? What were the guards doing?

“I sent the guards at the Forbidden Gate in ahead of you. I’m going to the Keisōin now to call in every reinforcement I can.”

“Understood. I’ll see you in the mountain god’s realm.”

Akeru nodded, his face pale. “Be careful.”

Yukiya and Chihaya took raven form and flew toward the Forbidden Gate. Who was guarding the Crown Prince right now? And who’d been guarding the Forbidden Gate before the emergency?

Yukiya didn’t know the answer to the first question, but he did know the answer to the second question.

Shigemaru was assigned to guard the Forbidden Gate tonight.

His heart made an audible thud. A terrible feeling gnawed at his gut. He stalked through the silent White Raven’s Hall and approached the Forbidden Gate.

Before he could enter the gate, there was a flash of blinding white light in front of him.

“Huh?” he blurted out.

The ground bucked beneath his feet. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning and dropped to his knees with his eyes shut and his hands over his ears.

The earth kept shaking; this earthquake was worse than any he remembered aside from the first devastating quake that had opened the Forbidden Gate. Something terrible had happened in the mountain god’s realm.

Yukiya sprang to his feet and ran toward Chihaya.

Soldiers and priests were rushing about in confusion all around him.

“What happened? Where is His Imperial Highness?!” Yukiya demanded.

“I don’t know,” one of the soldiers said. “His Imperial Highness isn’t back yet.”

A priest who had been peering through a gap in the rampart cried, “He’s back! The Crown Prince has returned!”

Yukiya caught his breath at the sight of the Crown Prince.

Nazukihiko staggered as he walked. He was carrying someone on his back. A faint trail of smoke drifted from the carried body. The nauseating stench of burning flesh spread through the White Raven’s Hall.

Yukiya was speechless at the sight of the burned man. His entire body was black and charred. He was unusually short, which told Yukiya that this man was Sumio. His face was unrecognizable.

Nazukihiko entrusted Sumio to two guards who ran up to him. Then he collapsed to his knees.

“Your Imperial Highness!” Yukiya called out.

“I’m unharmed!” Nazukihiko called back. “There are others inside—go!” His face was drenched in sweat.

Yukiya dashed through the Forbidden Gate. The reek of burning flesh enveloped him like the world’s most horrible blanket; he gagged. He had memorized the map that the Crown Prince and the others had drawn, so he could navigate the mountain god’s realm with ease.

He looked around on the other side of the gate, but he saw no one. “Is anyone there? If you can hear me, answer!”

There was no reply.

Yukiya lit a hanging lantern as he ran. There was smoke all around, obscuring his vision. He couldn’t tell who was where, but he saw Kuisaru moving in the smoke.

And he heard laughter.

Not Yatagarasu laughter. The Kuisaru were laughing.

Yukiya broke into a cold sweat. Where was everyone? Why wasn’t anyone answering him?

“Shigemaru, where are you?!”

Yukiya tripped over something and nearly fell. He stumbled back from a horribly burned corpse. The body’s limbs were curled protectively around their head.

“No.”

The corpse had no weapons and no shield. Their clothes had burned away completely. The wreckage of a Yamauchishu sword hung from the corpse’s waist.

So this was a Yamauchishu—an Imperial Guard. The sword was melted. The hand-carved beads strung on the hilt had all come off. No Yamauchishu sword was identical to another guard’s. Yukiya was familiar enough with this one to know who it belonged to.

“No, no! Why?!”

Shigemaru lay at his feet, reduced to a lump of charcoal. His best friend was dead. He reached out to clasp Shigemaru’s blackened hand, but it crumbled away in his fingers.

Yukiya’s mind went blank. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to do anything at all. He wanted…

“Shigemaru, this is an order. Breathe, you idiot! Say, ‘Help me’—tell me that it hurts!”

There was no reply.

“Say something!”

Silence.

“This is a lie. It can’t be real.”

Yukiya screamed wordlessly until he thought his throat would split open, but Shigemaru did not return to life.

“Stop it, Yukiya. He’s dead.”

Someone grabbed his shoulder; Yukiya didn’t look to see who. “No,” he said. “It’s a lie; he’s not dead—he can’t be.”

***

By the time Chihaya caught up to Yukiya, Yukiya was no longer sane.

Charred Yatagarasu corpses lay on the ground. Yukiya clung desperately to the largest body, his eyes unfocused. He was aware of nothing but Shigemaru’s dead body in front of him. He screamed, moving his hands carefully so that pressure wouldn’t turn what remained of Shigemaru to ashes.

The Kuisaru were laughing all around them, but Chihaya tuned that out. This would be a bad time to let down his guard. He tried to get Yukiya’s attention—to reach him somehow—but Yukiya shook off his hand and kept screaming.

Chihaya paused to still his thoughts and make a plan. Yukiya would usually issue commands; with him out of commission, that responsibility fell to Chihaya.

Ichiryū emerged from the cloud of smoke and caught sight of Yukiya, who hadn’t stopped screaming. He rushed to Yukiya’s side and struck him hard across the face. “You idiot!” he spat. “You’re in command here, so command us! What are our orders?” He pointed at a pile of corpses. “Don’t tell me you intend to leave them here like this?!” He grabbed Yukiya by the collar and hauled him to his feet. “Tell us your orders, sir.”

Yukiya’s face was deathly pale and his teeth were chattering, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and even. “We’ll bring the injured back to Yamauchi,” he said. “Keep guards on our side of the gate and treat the wounded. Don’t let anyone else come to this realm without the Crown Prince’s express permission.”

“Understood, sir.” Ichiryū issued orders to Keisōin cadets. They started moving the casualties toward the Forbidden Gate.

Chihaya and Yukiya carried Shigemaru’s body. It was a difficult task; the corpse was large, unwieldy, and extremely fragile. Pieces of him fell off and crumbled to ash. They couldn’t prevent this no matter how slowly they walked.

Yukiya’s face was an expressionless mask. He muttered under his breath the whole time he carried the body, but Chihaya couldn’t quite make out what he said.

“Damn it,” Yukiya cursed. “Damn the mountain god. I will never forgive him, not for as long as I live.”

***

When Akeru returned from the Keisōin, he found a line of cloth-covered bodies in the White Raven’s Hall. The casualties recovered from the mountain god’s realm were dead. The Crown Prince had rescued Sumio, who was barely clinging to life; all of the other Yatagarasu with him in the mountain god’s realm earlier that day had perished.

Military doctors carried medical kits and examined burned and blackened corpses, speaking to one another in hushed tones. Most of the doctors were clustered around Sumio, the sole survivor of this disaster. He couldn’t be moved without causing him further harm. The plan was to keep doctors near him overnight and arrange for transport by air to Shion Temple’s hospital.

The Crown Prince told the doctors what had happened. The mountain god had learned that the girl who’d been brought to serve him had escaped, and he had blamed the Yatagarasu. He’d flown into a rage, killing almost every Yatagarasu present.

“Ōzaru, the leader of the Kuisaru, provoked the mountain god and blamed us,” the Crown Prince said. “I wasn’t given time to defend myself. I’m not injured much; focus on Sumio, please.”

The Crown Prince was understating his own wounds. His right arm and part of his shoulder were scorched black. The bones of his hand were partially exposed.

The doctors treated the Crown Prince’s burns as well as Sumio’s. Unfortunately, none of the ointments they tried healed the burns. Their condition worsened slowly, a little at a time.

“These burns aren’t ordinary,” the doctors said after a few days. They appeared shaken.

“They are not,” the Crown Prince said. “They are caused by the mountain god’s curse. I suspect that only the mountain god can heal them.”

The military doctors were struck dumb. They didn’t know how to counter curses. They’d never even heard of injuries like this being caused by magic.

If the burns kept worsening, then Sumio would soon die. The Crown Prince had longer to live, but if he didn’t at least halt the curse’s progression, he would die as well.

Akeru looked to the Crown Prince for guidance and reassurance, but found none.

The Yatagarasu would only be able to cure their leader by killing the mountain god. Akeru saw no other path forward. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

Yukiya moved to the Crown Prince’s side. “Your Imperial Highness, can you still wield a sword?” he asked.

The doctors were in an uproar over this question. “His Imperial Highness must not exert himself in his condition!”

“Don’t be absurd!”

Yukiya silenced them with a cutting gesture. “We need to know. If he had died along with all those others, our fates would already be sealed. The only Yatagarasu who is able to enter the mountain god’s domain with a weapon is His Imperial Highness. The curse is progressing; we have no way to cure his wounds. We need to act before His Imperial Highness is unable to fight at all.”

There was a silence.

The Crown Prince sighed. “I could bind the sword to my hand. I should be able to use it.”

Akeru wanted to say something—to stop this madness—but he had no better ideas.

“Then do it. There’s no other way,” Yukiya said. “All of you, make whatever preparations you require.”

Yamauchishu scattered in all directions at Yukiya’s command.

Yukiya knelt before the Crown Prince. “I will accompany you as well.”

“No. Absolutely not. If I fall, you must protect the Yatagarasu in my place.”

Yukiya grimaced. “If you fall, then the mountain god has already won. We’ve lost six Imperial Guards. It is fitting that I should go in their stead. I would go with you to hell if you asked it of me.”

The Crown Prince’s jaw tightened. He seemed calm from the outside, but he was wrestling with many of the same emotions as Yukiya. But because he was a true Golden Raven, he had a different perspective.

Yukiya was angry: angry past endurance at what had been done to his friends, his comrades.

Nazukihiko was angry, too, at what had been done to his children. All Yatagarasu were the children of the true Golden Raven. That included Yukiya. That meant he couldn’t willingly bring Yukiya into danger. He’d lost too many children already.

Akeru opened his mouth to argue with Yukiya. “Don’t be a fool,” he said. “This is no time to burden the Crown Prince with such a selfish and reckless request.”

While Akeru was speaking, a Yamauchishu ran over to the Crown Prince from the direction of the Forbidden Gate. He bowed low and said, “Your Imperial Highness, the Tengu have found the girl who escaped. They have her in custody.”

Translator's Note

The gate guardians at the Gate of the Vermilion Bird are termed shureishu, literally “guard ritual group.”

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