Yatagarasu Series
Volume 7:
The Raven's Paradise
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 4: The Underground
“Tell me about the human world,” Tobi said at breakfast the following morning. He puffed out his chest and straightened his shoulders like a king commanding his subjects.
Yorito, Hajime, Chihaya, and a cluster of children ate companionably with their bowls and chopsticks balanced on their knees. They sat on rocks for their meal, just as they had at dinner.
Yorito set down his empty bowl carefully. “Is this your price for allowing us to stay?”
Tobi shrugged and then barraged him with questions. Yorito could answer most of them, but Tobi asked about things he’d never even heard of before. Tobi had shown interest in the human world’s language from the start, so perhaps that shouldn’t be terribly surprising.
“You’re an interpreter, right? And that old guy over there is a human?” Tobi pointed at Hajime.
Before Yorito could answer, Hajime tilted his head. “What?”
“I knew it.” Tobi’s eyes went wide. “Amazing. I’ve never seen a live human before.”
News from the human world barely reached the Underground at the best of times. Stories about it were rare. Tobi doubted he’d see a human with his own eyes ever again after this.
“I’m interested in the human world, but Chihaya never talks about it, and when he does, he’s terrible at explaining.”
“Sorry I’m terrible,” Chihaya muttered, not sounding sorry at all.
Tobi ignored him. “Teach me the human world’s language while you’re here,” he said to Hajime.
“Well, the thing is—”
“Everyone has a job in the Underground,” Tobi said with great authority. “I just told you yours.”
Yorito wasn’t opposed to telling the children about the human world, but he was in the middle of a mission. He didn’t want to inconvenience Hajime with side quests.
He relayed Tobi’s request to Hajime, who had been watching the exchange in silence.
“Sure,” Hajime said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not? He seems determined, and I see no harm in it.” He shrugged. “If that’s what he wants for letting us stay, he can have it. That seems fair.”
After breakfast, Yorito and Hajime gave Tobi his first human world language lesson.
***
The place Tobi chose for the lesson was a cave on the lowest level of the Underground, which was quite a bit more spacious than the other levels. The chamber they used was narrower than the dining hall but had a high ceiling. The acoustics were excellent, so it was a suitable space for learning the sounds of a new language.
About forty children had gathered, drawn by curiosity. Among them were Kuma, Taka, and Mitsu.
Hajime settled onto a rocky ledge, propped his cheek on his hand, and said to Yorito, “Go on, then.”
“Me?”
Yorito had intended to devote himself to interpreting. Being put on the spot flustered him.
“I don’t really know what these kids would find interesting about my world. You go first and get things started.”
Yorito found himself propelled, more or less forcibly, to the front of the assembled children. He coughed. “Well. I was in the human world for about three years and only returned recently. It’s a vast place, and there are countless things I found fascinating and strange. If you tell me what you’d most like to know, I’ll do my best to answer.”
The children looked at one another. He was starting to think that asking for questions right away had been a mistake when Kuma leaped to his feet.
“What was the most delicious food in the human world?” he asked.
The children burst out laughing.
Yorito laughed too, and felt his shoulders drop. “Let me think. Personally, hamburgers really surprised me with how good they were.”
“Ham what?”
“A hamburger. It’s a food that originated in a very distant part of the human world. To make it, you take meat seasoned with salty and sweet sauce along with crisp, leafy vegetables, and place all that between two halves of something like a baked, fluffy, steamed rice cake. The meat juices and vegetables are sometimes topped with other sauces.” He paused. “The first time I ate one, I was shocked. It was very, very good.”
“That sounds amazing,” someone murmured.
“Could we make something like that in Yamauchi?” Kuma asked, his eyes shining.
“I’m not certain. Something similar, perhaps.”
“Then teach us how to make it!”
After that, the questions flowed freely.
“What kinds of animals are there?”
“Is it true there’s a mirror that lets you talk to someone no matter how far away they are?”
“I heard there’s a castle made of silver and glass taller than a mountain!”
“Please, one at a time,” Yorito said. Light from the arrow slits above illuminated this cavern with steady light. The children listened to Yorito with wide eyes and smiles. Yorito felt like a performer in a theater.
Tobi leaned forward and asked more questions than anyone. He wrote down everything Yorito said in his notebook with his silver-capped pencil. His studious dedication gave him the air of an anthropologist or sociologist. He wrote quickly and furiously like he feared that the information would escape.
“You said earlier the human world is vast. How big is it, really?”
“That’s difficult to explain, but—the human world is a globe. That means it’s a big sphere.”
“A what?”
“The human world is so large that the surface of a ball-like sphere feels completely flat when you’re standing on it.”
Astonished murmurs echoed in the hall.
“No way! Humans live on a giant ball?”
“If the ground is round, then it must be really thick, too! How far down can you dig?”
“I don’t believe it!”
“I don’t really understand it either,” Yorito said with a slight smile. He didn’t know enough about human geology or geography to answer all the children’s questions about them. “The human world is very, very large though. Different humans live in different places and they speak hundreds of different languages. Their lands are separated by lakes so wide it takes months to sail over them.”
The children whispered to one another, awed and confused.
Tobi raised his hand again, his face serious.
“If there are lots of different groups in the human world, don’t they fight?”
“They do. To be honest, that surprised me more than anything else when I first went out there.” Human wars were devastating events. Thousands of people could die in a single day. “The humans outside possess weapons that could kill every Yatagarasu in Yamauchi easily. It’s terrifying to contemplate.”
“If we got into a fight with humans, we wouldn’t stand a chance,” Tobi said quietly. His face had gone pale.
“That’s right. So we need to get along with them.”
Every head in the room turned from Yorito to Hajime, who was sitting beside him. Hajime rolled his eyes.
“But they’re basically friendly,” Yorito added quickly. “There’s no need to worry too much about humans attacking us.”
“Can human weapons be brought into Yamauchi?” Mitsu asked, her voice clear and high.
“You think of frightening things, but human weapons can’t be used here. We’ve tried importing many of them in the past, but they break or rust or become unusable very quickly. Even simple gunpowder becomes too damp to function within moments. This is believed to be an effect of the barrier that protects Yamauchi.” He smiled to reassure her. “It must be the will of the mountain god. He wishes to preserve our peace.” He looked out at the children. “The Kuisaru are a serious problem, it’s true. But Yamauchi is peaceful and beautiful. Going out into the human world showed me that more clearly than anything else. The people of Yamauchi are fortunate to have been born here.”
The mood of the room suddenly soured.
“My dad was killed by Red Cords,” a boy muttered.
The children looked away from Yorito, who struggled not to panic. He was about to say something—anything—when Sanji appeared in the entrance to the cavern.
“Hey! It’s fine to play for a little while, but it’s time to get to work. Jobs don’t do themselves.”
“Oops,” a girl said sheepishly.
“I forgot!” a boy said.
The children dispersed to perform their tasks: hauling water, standing watch, or cleaning.
“We’ll meet here again tomorrow,” Tobi called out.
“Tomorrow for sure,” several children called back to him.
Yorito was left with a flat, dissatisfied feeling. He didn’t feel like he’d taught the children very much about the human world. The question of what to do next was unresolved.
Tobi, who had stayed behind, came toward Hajime and Yorito at a quick pace.
“Good morning, good afternoon!” He addressed Hajime in careful, halting Japanese, then looked anxiously at Chihaya as if he wanted to ask if he’d gotten it right.
“Yeah, hello,” Hajime replied in Japanese with easy warmth. “Tobi, you’re good at Japanese.”
Tobi looked to Chihaya immediately and asked, “What does that mean?”
“He says you’re good at human world language.”
Tobi’s face lit up. “Aigato!” he lisped, and laughed. “Teach me more!”
Chihaya’s expression was pained.
Yorito stepped in before he could respond. “Lord Tobi, why do you want to learn the human world language so much?”
Wanting to know about an unfamiliar world was understandable enough, but Tobi’s questions were all centered on language and communication.
Tobi looked up at Yorito. “I want to be able to talk to humans someday on equal footing.”
Yorito blinked. “But you’re the leader of the Underground. You won’t have many opportunities to speak with people from the human world.”
Tobi shook his head. “You don’t understand me. I want to learn it because I’m the leader of the Underground. I think it’s important.” He pulled out his pencil—manufactured in the human world—and held it up. “I know things. Back in the old days, almost nobody studied abroad. Lately, all the important people study abroad. And imported things like this? Back then, only nobles could use them, but now they trickle down to us, too.” He looked at the pencil. “Yamauchi and the human world are going to have more trade in the future. I’m sure of it.”
He glanced at Hajime. “A human has even come here. One day, humans will travel back and forth between Yamauchi and their world freely. The nobles will try to exploit everything good that could come of that, and I won’t let them. I want to learn human language so that I can negotiate good deals for us directly.”
Tobi’s imagined future was wide of the mark—the Yellow Raven was trying to isolate Yamauchi, not expand trade relations. But he wasn’t wrong about the past twenty years, or the present. Yamauchi had expanded its program of studying abroad, and Hajime was here.
“In that case,” Yorito said carefully, “I think you should study the classics first.”
Tobi squinted. “Why?”
“Even commoners can serve in the Imperial Court if they pass the civil service examination. Depending on how hard you work, formal study abroad isn’t out of reach, either. If physical ability is your emphasis, the Keisōin is also an option.” He paused. “The Yellow Raven’s personal attendant is of commoner birth. The Yellow Raven doesn’t concern himself with a person’s origins. If you want to help the people of the Underground, the most effective path would be to rise within the Imperial Court yourself and propose those policies from the inside. If that’s what you want, I can help you.”
Tobi’s mouth fell open. “You—you’re telling me to become a government official?”
“It may seem counterintuitive, but all real change is slow, and it comes from inside the system. Trying to change things from the outside is usually violent and unsuccessful in the long run.”
“No, no, that’s not…” Tobi scratched his head, bewildered. “Listen. You don’t seem to understand who I am. I’m the boss of the Underground! The Yellow Raven took everything from me! I hate the Yellow Raven! I might end up leading the opposition against him someday. And you’re telling me to join his Imperial Court?” He stared at Yorito, enraged and horrified. “Are you out of your mind?”
Tobi didn’t know that the food and medicine for the Underground came, in the end, from the Yellow Raven’s hand.
Yorito kept his voice even as he said, “The Yellow Raven is compassionate and worthy of your respect. You can criticize a man and his policies without killing him. After you’ve studied more, you’ll have a better picture of what kind of man he is. If you stay shut up in a place like this, you’ll never find out the truth.”
Tobi was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “You really love the Yellow Raven, don’t you?” He shook his head and sighed. “I will never join the Imperial Court. I’ll rebel against the Yellow Raven, and nothing you say will stop me.” He folded his arms. “So consider that. Whatever you teach me might be used against the Yellow Raven and your precious Imperial Court someday. What you’re doing right now could be seen as betrayal.” His eyes were sharp, but no longer angry.
“That won’t change what I tell you,” Yorito said. “I consider education very important, and so does the Yellow Raven. You deserve a good education, regardless of how you feel about the Yellow Raven. You might change your mind about things as you learn. Hatred and ignorance are a terrible combination.” He nodded. “A true noble acts for the good of others, regardless of his own self-interest.”
Tobi stared at him as if he were a new species of insect. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then looked helplessly at Chihaya. “Are all nobles like this?” he asked.
“Yeah. They’re aliens,” Chihaya said, sounding amused. He straightened up from the rock he had been leaning against, then turned to Hajime, who had been sitting quietly through the entire exchange in the Yatagarasu language.
“Hajime?” Chihaya asked.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll show you around, if you’re interested.”
“Definitely.” Hajime stood up with an effortful grunt.
Chihaya glanced back at Yorito and switched languages. “You say Tobi doesn’t understand Yukiya. But if you ask me, you’re the one who doesn’t understand him.”
Yorito frowned.
Chihaya snorted. “Come with us. I’ll show you a side of him that you know nothing about.”
***
“The Yellow Raven attacked this place eight years ago,” Chihaya said. He carried a torch aloft through a dark and drafty tunnel, speaking Japanese as he walked. Behind him were Tobi, Hajime, and Yorito. The rock walls pressed in from both sides. Yorito could hear Chihaya clearly, even at the end of the line. “The nobles called it ‘putting the slums in order.’ In reality, it was a one-sided war.”
After the current Golden Raven’s ascension, the long-standing non-aggression pact between the Imperial Court and the Underground had been broken. Sessai had stepped forward to negotiate on the young emperor’s behalf, since he had dealt directly with King Saku of the Underground before.
Unfortunately, Sessai and the Underground hadn’t been able to reach a peaceful agreement.
“Negotiations broke down. Sessai ordered the Valley destroyed. The boss of the Underground at that time refused his demands, and Sessai punished him for it.”
First came eviction orders for the Valley’s gambling dens and brothels, all declared illegal. The operation was large-scale and abrupt. Many people resisted.
“Things kept deteriorating from there. Violence broke out in the Valley as people tried to defend themselves.”
The Aerial Army of Heaven was sent into the Valley. Men who resisted them were cut down. Women were seized and taken to the city.
The bosses of the Valley were outraged. They fled to the Underground with their people, since it was a natural fortress. The bosses prepared to face the Aerial Army of Heaven in battle.
The Underground had food stockpiles and abundant water from wells. The passages formed a maze that confounded outsiders. Provisions could be smuggled in from outside, and emergency escape routes were secured. Armed fighters prepared large stores of arrows and boiling oil at the arrow slits and took up positions to wait for the Imperial Court’s soldiers.
Even if they couldn’t win, they believed they wouldn’t lose.
“But Sessai didn’t do them the courtesy of fighting honestly.” Chihaya glanced back at Hajime. “What do you think he did?”
Hajime shrugged. “If I were going for a quick, easy victory… hmm… He poisoned the water or the food, didn’t he?”
“The Yellow Raven planted his spies in the Valley,” Chihaya said. “He had them dump laxatives into the largest water source.” He paused. “And he poisoned the bosses’ food.”
“All at the same time?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nasty.”
Chihaya shrugged. “It’s hard to fight when you’re shitting yourself and your leaders are dying. The poison used had a delayed effect, so the Underground bosses collapsed in the middle of an extremely messy battle. The Yellow Raven sent an envoy. He said he would provide an antidote to counteract the poison’s effects.”
Hajime made a sound of reluctant appreciation. “And in exchange for that, he wanted them to surrender?”
“The bosses refused, of course,” Chihaya said. “They tried their own antidotes, but nothing worked. Everyone was poisoned by the laxatives, including women and children, not just fighters. The Valley was easy to suppress,” Chihaya said without enthusiasm. “Tobi fought to the bitter end and was killed in battle.”
Tobi raised his head and cocked an ear. He nodded. “The previous boss—right before he died, he gave me his name. Tell Hajime that.”
Chihaya translated quickly.
Hajime asked, “What do you mean?”
“I was a foundling. I don’t even know what my real parents looked like. But in the Valley, there were plenty of people like that, so everyone there was like family. Everyone who was killed or taken away was family to me.”
When the Valley was attacked, Tobi had been about five years old.
“When the soldiers came pouring into the Underground, I was near the previous boss. He was writhing in pain—it was already over. He told the women to run. I wasn’t poisoned because I drank different water, so I was fine. I said I’d fight alongside him.” He shook his head. “He laughed at me. Called me a ‘brat with luck and guts.’ He told me to rebuild the Valley and lead the Underground in his place.”
Tobi was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “The previous boss—he didn’t give me his name because he thought I’d be a great leader or anything like that. He gave me his name to protect me.” He said this without bitterness or sorrow. “Tobi was a real leader. Even King Saku respected him. He’d probably been thinking about his own successor for a while, but anyone he might have picked had already been poisoned. I think he was acting on instinct, but I didn’t know that at the time. I took him seriously and told him I’d do it. ‘Leave everything to me,’ I said. And he laughed again. He guided me to the edge of the Valley and helped smuggle me out. Then he turned and fought the Aerial Army of Heaven.”
After that, Tobi and the others who had barely escaped hid in the mountains surrounding Yamauchi’s capital city. It took nearly a year for the Aerial Army of Heaven to withdraw from the Valley.
When Tobi finally returned to the Valley and the Underground, he was greeted by only the wounded, the ill, the very young, and the very old. There were no fighting men left. Prisoners taken in battle had suffered excommunication, becoming horses against their will. Many women had been taken away to the capital.
“Since then, we’ve been doing our best to survive here,” Tobi said, walking slowly. His voice echoed, making it sound lonely and forlorn. “There were a few men left—injured, of course—but the soldiers came and took them all away. It’s hard to rebuild without strong people to help. The Yellow Raven is a heartless bastard.” His voice was low and angry. “My older brothers. Babies who don’t even know what’s happening yet… They took them, too. You say he’s merciful and compassionate, but I don’t believe it. Not for a moment.”
These last words were directed at Yorito.
Yorito considered his response before saying, “The Yellow Raven followed proper procedures. He punished those who failed to comply. He did nothing illegal, if we consult the laws of Yamauchi.”
Eviction warnings had been issued to the Valley well in advance of the invasion. Those who refused to move had been given opportunities to surrender. Even the elder Tobi might have survived, if he had made the right choice. The Yellow Raven’s suppression of the Valley had been humane in all its particulars.
Tobi stopped and turned around. He shoved the stumbling Hajime to the side without looking at him and fixed his angry eyes on Yorito. “Just for being in the Valley, they cut off their legs and turned them into horses. And on top of that, they took women and babies who didn’t do anything wrong. You call that ‘proper procedures?’”
“The women who were taken were given proper occupations after rehabilitation. The babies are being carefully raised at appropriate facilities. If you believe they were simply trampled without recourse, you are mistaken. When people barricade themselves in a place like this—which is effectively a fortified stronghold—and refuse repeated warnings, that constitutes resistance to imperial authority. They made that determination for themselves.”
“Bullshit!” Tobi cried out.
Hajime, caught between the two of them, watched the escalating exchange with a carefully neutral expression.
“We were defending ourselves from violent attack!” Tobi shouted. “How does that constitute rebellion? We weren’t harming anyone!”
“The Valley’s existence was the problem. When outlaws gather in one place and public order deteriorates, it is entirely natural for the government to act.”
Tobi opened his mouth to respond, but Chihaya beat him to it.
“It wasn’t a matter of public order.” Chihaya, who should have been at the front, had stopped and turned around. “The Yellow Raven didn’t go after the Valley to maintain public order. There was a more pressing problem.”
“A more pressing problem?” Yorito asked.
Chihaya pointed his chin toward the tunnel’s depths and held up his torch. They were in a cavern with a high ceiling. Aside from the passage behind them, there was no other way in or out. A huge boulder jutted from one wall. It was a different color than the stones around it and had clearly been brought here from elsewhere.
Chihaya walked into the cavern and set his torch in an iron bracket affixed to the irregular stone wall. As the space brightened, Yorito noticed that several thick ropes, nearly rotted through, were wound around the boulder, and that an iron-reinforced beam lay on the ground beside it.
“What is this?” Yorito asked.
Chihaya laid his palm flat against the boulder. “Hajime, this is the Third Gate.”
“The Third Gate?” Yorito asked.
Chihaya spoke in Japanese, ignoring Yorito entirely. “The Third Gate leads into and out of Yamauchi. It connects Yamauchi to the human world.”
“A third one?” Hajime tilted his head. “So there are three ways in and out of Yamauchi?”
Chihaya nodded, then turned to Yorito. “Explain it.”
Providing a detailed explanation in Japanese would be difficult, but Hajime was watching him with genuine interest. It would not be sensible to refuse Chihaya’s order.
“There are three gates connecting the human world and Yamauchi,” Yorito began. “The first is the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. We use it to conduct trade with the Tengu. Those who travel abroad also go through that gate. It is the gate you used to enter Yamauchi, Mr. Yasuhara.
“The second is the Forbidden Gate, which leads from Yamauchi to the mountain god’s sacred realm on Mt. Ara. It is currently sealed shut, but it was used many times by our previous emperor and his attendants. Officially, these are the only two gates into and out of Yamauchi.
“Since the Forbidden Gate is sealed shut, the only gate in common use is the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. However, rumors have persisted that there might be other gates unknown to the Imperial Court.” He paused. “That is what the Third Gate is.”
Iron and salt could not be easily obtained within Yamauchi. There were ways to produce more of each, but the raw materials needed had to be imported from the human world, and that importation—along with processing and distribution—was strictly controlled by the Imperial Court.
In the past, cheap iron and salt had flooded the market suddenly and caused prices to drop sharply. Their source had been traced to the Underground. For a time, rumors spread that the Underground possessed a Third Gate that no one in the Imperial Court knew of.
“In the end, it was concluded that the Underground had simply sold stockpiles it had been quietly accumulating, and that the Third Gate was fictional,” Yorito said.
“The Third Gate exists,” Chihaya said. “We’re standing right in front of it.”
Hajime stared at the sealed wall. “It’s there?”
“Yes. There was a cave here until it was sealed off.”
“The cave just disappeared?”
“During the great war, we discovered several routes that the Kuisaru used to enter Yamauchi. But those passages—like the Forbidden Gate—led to the mountain god’s realm. When the mountain god sealed the Forbidden Gate, those passages vanished at the same time.”
The passages had been guarded closely by the Imperial Court. Warriors had been posted to watch for surviving Kuisaru. That was how the Yatagarasu knew that the other passages had disappeared.
But the Underground’s Third Gate did not disappear.
“Sessai wanted the Third Gate,” Chihaya said in Japanese. “That’s why he attacked the Valley.”
“Why?” Hajime asked. “The Imperial Court has the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. Why go to the trouble of taking another gate, especially when he couldn’t be sure that it even existed?”
“The Third Gate is used differently,” Chihaya said.
“How?” Yorito asked. He thought he understood what Chihaya meant, but he hoped he was wrong. “Wait… are you saying that the Yellow Raven is using the Third Gate to smuggle in human goods and currency?” he asked in the language of the Yatagarasu.
Chihaya glanced at him, smiling slightly. “He’s cautious by nature. Even after learning that the cave was blocked, he suspected it was a false trail and that the real Third Gate was somewhere else. But you’re not wrong about the Third Gate’s uses.”
Yorito was silent.
“In Japanese, please,” Hajime said.
Yorito composed himself and then said in Japanese, “Acquiring human currency became a matter of urgency for us some years ago, when more Yatagarasu started going out into the human world. Until then, trade with the human world had been monopolized entirely by the Tengu. Even arrangements for studying abroad were made through the Tengu, at significant cost. Independent activity outside the Tengu’s channels began to seem desirable. That is when the Yatagarasu decided to acquire human currency for ourselves.”
The early solution had seemed obvious: export gold. Gold was plentiful in Yamauchi’s mines; the human world prized the metal far more than Yatagarasu did. For a time, this strategy worked well for amassing wealth.
Then something strange happened.
After a certain quantity had been taken outside of Yamauchi, gold that had been exposed to the air of the human world became worthless stone. It never reverted. From that point on, any gold taken out of Yamauchi underwent the same change.
Only then did they discover that the Tengu had tried the same thing years earlier, run into the same problem, and abandoned the strategy. The Yellow Raven had tried variations on the same strategy, but the result was always the same.
“So all gold from Yamauchi becomes worthless once it leaves?” Hajime asked.
“No,” Yorito said. “Strangely enough, small quantities taken out as ornamentation sometimes don’t change. It’s happened several times, but no one knows why.”
Was it the quantity? The container? Some characteristic of the individual carrying it? The method of transport? Every conceivable variable had been tested.
“After extensive verification, the conclusion reached was that the Yamauchi’s barrier magic has its own will. This will operates like a customs office in the human world. There are rules for what can come in and what can go out of Yamauchi, and the barrier enforces those rules.”
“Rules again,” Hajime said dismissively.
“We know that there are rules,” Yorito said. “We don’t always know what they are, because sometimes, they change.”
The current working hypothesis was that the rules were connected to intent somehow. The Tengu had been trying to acquire Yamauchi’s gold at prices far below its human world value. The Yatagarasu who had successfully taken gold out had gotten greedy the next time. It seemed that Yamauchi’s barrier magic disapproved of greed.
An ornament that had made it out unchanged had been a family heirloom. Its carrier hadn’t had any intention of selling it. The barrier magic had not disapproved, so the heirloom had remained unchanged.
There was also a case of someone unknowingly carrying a bag containing gold through the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. They had found stones in their bag on the other side.
Even for the Yatagarasu, the rules weren’t always clear. Those who studied abroad learned that the rules governing Yamauchi and the rules governing the human world were different. They were warned that the Yatagarasu didn’t know what might endanger their own existence. Entering the human world as a Yatagarasu was always a risk. Yatagarasu who studied abroad were test subjects. They were learning the rules for the sake of those who followed them.
“Having an unregulated gate that leads to the human world is a major security concern,” Yorito said. “Imagine how much gold or other valuables you could smuggle out of Yamauchi without anyone being the wiser.”
Hajime gave him a vague, half-interested nod.
Chihaya spoke in the language of the Yatagarasu next. “When he was young, Yukiya met with King Saku. I don’t know what was said, but that meeting convinced him of the Third Gate’s existence. He believed that the Third Gate operated without the rules of the other gates, and became determined to find it.
“He intended to approach King Saku first, but by that time all authority over the Valley and the Underground had passed to Tobi, who refused to negotiate with imperial officials.
“Further investigation revealed why: King Saku, rumored to be living in quiet retirement somewhere in the Underground, was gone. He had almost certainly been dead for years. His death was concealed because his reputation served as a deterrent against the Imperial Court.
“Tobi refused to acknowledge the Third Gate’s existence,” Chihaya said, “so Yukiya decided to take the Valley by force, lacking other options. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t find the Third Gate. He searched everywhere, of course. He found nothing. He used the excuse of preserving public order as a shield. He broke a long-standing nonaggression pact with the Valley and devoted expensive military resources to the campaign, and in the end, he didn’t even get what he wanted.” He glanced at Hajime. “That was devastating to him. He almost never fails.”
Yorito forgot to translate. “It wasn’t a failure,” he said in the Yatagarasu language.
Chihaya raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”
“It may be true that acquiring the Third Gate was among his objectives, but it wasn’t his only one. The Underground, in its current form, has produced significant benefits for the Imperial Court.
“For example?”
“The social welfare system has expanded significantly for all of Yamauchi’s citizens.”
Tobi grunted, indignant. Chihaya held up one hand to stop him from speaking. “Go on.”
Yorito looked Chihaya in the eye. “You said maintaining public order was only an excuse. That may be how it looks from the Underground’s side of things. But it is an undeniable fact that the Valley was a breeding ground for criminal activity. People who committed crimes elsewhere fled and hid there. Courtesans were so poor that they couldn’t eat unless they stole, and most of the profits they earned went straight into the bosses’ pockets and into illegal gambling operations.” He kept his voice steady. “I cannot call the Valley an honest or peaceful community. You and Tobi both romanticize how things were.”
Chihaya’s expression didn’t shift. “Perhaps,” he said.
“The men who did not resist and accepted the Imperial Court’s offer are living contented lives. Those who were made into horses were, without exception, the ones who chose to meet force with force. Those horses are now building embankments, cultivating fields, and working for the benefit of Yamauchi and its people.
“Compared to their dissolute past of exploiting the weak and living on the wrong side of the law, what they do now is incomparably more productive. As for those women who had no choice but to sell their bodies, the Imperial Court provided proper livelihoods for them. Their work now contributes to Yamauchi, and they do not starve. I cannot call this outcome a failure. The Yellow Raven saved the Valley by destroying it.”
Tobi snorted. “Some salvation this is.”
Yorito stopped speaking. Tobi was looking at him, not with anger, but with fear in his eyes.
Chihaya’s smile was mirthless, but his eyes were laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Yorito asked.
“I was thinking of politicians and their spin,” Chihaya said. “What happened to the Valley was a tragedy. Your version spins the story differently and gives it the kind of happy ending you want, but it’s not strictly true. I can see why Yukiya picked you to be his successor.”
The bitter sarcasm in his tone was obvious, and Yorito bristled.
“Hey, can I ask something?” Hajime asked in Japanese.
Yorito nodded, glad for the distraction. Hajime had been left out of the last several minutes’ exchange due to the language barrier. He was watching Tobi, Yorito, and Chihaya with an inscrutable expression on his face.
“I don’t really follow what’s going on, but you two go from zero to furious the moment the Yellow Raven comes up in conversation.”
“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” Yorito muttered.
“That’s fine. But once things settle down, could you tell me what you’ve been talking about? You forget to translate when you get worked up.” He didn’t sound reproachful. He was just making an observation.
Yorito relayed the gist of what they’d said briefly to Hajime. “We were speaking of the transformation of the Valley and the Underground after the attack. Yamauchi’s social safety net has vastly improved. The suppression of the Valley was performed using humane means.”
Chihaya, who understood Japanese perfectly well, coughed and looked away.
Yorito felt a tic jump in his jaw.
Hajime nodded decisively. “Okay. I can tell you don’t agree. But yelling at each other doesn’t settle anything, does it?” He looked around the cavern. “If you want to know which of you is right, why not go and look?”
Yorito blinked. “Look at what, exactly?”
“These humane policies of the Yellow Raven’s that you’ve described. Go see how things are for yourself.” He scratched his chin. “If things are as you say, then you should be able to show me, right?”
***
“Listen to me, Mr. Yasuhara. If we go outside with only a handful of guards and get attacked, we won’t stand a chance.”
They were walking through the tunnels again.
“You’ve done nothing but complain since we got here,” Hajime said.
“Are you aware of how unreasonable what you’re asking actually is?” Yorito muttered this under his breath and kept walking behind Hajime. Over the past few days, he had grown completely accustomed to the uneven footing of the cave passages. Now that they were planning to leave, his steps felt heavy.
It was noon on their third day in the Underground. They’d spent the first day getting a general tour of the tunnels and passages and had given language lessons to the children. The second day had passed in much the same way. Today, Hajime had awakened early, and Yorito had been attending to his various demands since dawn.
Yesterday, while half-listening to the argument between Chihaya and Yorito, Hajime had said that he wanted to visit the work sites where the Underground’s former residents now labored.
From Yorito’s perspective, there was nothing objectionable about making the visit. He understood that the former residents were now living productive lives, and there was nothing at those sites that would cause problems for the Yellow Raven’s reputation. But if Hajime was willing to go sightseeing, why had he insisted on staying in the Underground in the first place?
The correct approach was obviously to obtain formal permission from the Imperial Court, arrange a proper escort, and conduct an inspection of the work sites through legitimate channels.
Yorito’s suggestion that they return to the Imperial Court first had been dismissed by Hajime immediately.
“I don’t want that.”
Chihaya had held a faint hope that Hajime might side with Yorito on this, but he hadn’t tried to change Hajime’s mind. He’d only said, “We’ll take the safest route.”
The previous night, Yorito and Chihaya had gone over their options.
“Going to these places directly is far too dangerous. Disguising ourselves is possible, but Mr. Yasuhara can’t speak our language. If his identity were exposed with only the two of us as guards, we’d be in serious trouble. We’ll need to find more trustworthy escorts somewhere.” Ideally from the Yamauchishu, but if not, at least several capable members of the Aerial Army of Heaven.
The Underground wasn’t exactly safe for Hajime, but he was hidden here. In the city, he would be exposed and vulnerable. The Kuisaru that had attacked him still hadn’t been caught. Entering the city openly would be suicide.
Unfortunately, Hajime disliked anyone operating under the Yellow Raven’s authority.
“What about Clear Mirror Temple?” Chihaya suggested.
Clear Mirror Temple had no direct ties to the imperial government. It served the common people, handling complaints about local administration, petitions for debt relief, soup kitchens for the poor, support for orphans, and free lodgings for pilgrims who couldn’t afford inns.
“The leader of the temple is a reasonable man. If we explain the situation, he’ll probably lend us some temple guards as an escort.”
Even if an escort couldn’t be arranged, having the protection of a noble with ties to the Imperial Court, but who wasn’t part of it, would give them a reasonably safe place to shelter. When they presented this plan to Hajime that morning, he agreed.
With Chihaya leading, the group set off toward Clear Mirror Temple. They walked at Hajime’s pace, which was quite slow. Light appeared ahead of them, and then they were out of the Underground.
According to Chihaya, Clear Mirror Temple wouldn’t take long to reach by air. Even if they were attacked while traveling, they would be safe when they entered the temple grounds. The militant monks standing watch would respond to any threats without delay.
Yorito had passed the secret phrase indicating their destination to one of the Yellow Raven’s spies that morning at breakfast. In all likelihood, members of the Yamauchishu were already in the area.
They were about to take off when Chihaya stopped moving. He turned and looked at Yorito. “Well. What do we do about that?” he muttered.
At least one child had followed them. Their footsteps were audible in the tunnels and caverns.
“I know you’re there. What do you want?” Chihaya asked.
Startled footsteps scrambled away. “Well… if you found me out, it can’t be helped!” Tobi came out of the shadows. “I didn’t hear anything about you leaving. You’re supposed to get my permission first, you know.”
He was doing his best to sound authoritative, but his eyebrow twitched from nervousness. “You’re not going home, right? You haven’t finished paying for your stay yet. I’ve only just met a human for the first time ever, and Hajime barely even says anything!” He sulked like a wet puppy.
Yorito had no idea how to respond.
“We intend to come back,” Chihaya said calmly.
Tobi’s head snapped up. “Really? When?”
“‘I didn’t say when.”
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere unrelated to you and the Underground.”
Hajime laughed. “You can come with us, kid, if you want. You might see some old friends.”
Tobi blinked his large eyes. Then he asked in halting Japanese, “I will come?”
Hajime nodded. “If you want to, you can.”
Chihaya did not look pleased. “We can’t encourage him,” he said flatly, switching to the Yatagarasu language. “We’re going to a women’s workshop and an embankment work site.” He lowered his voice. “You’re going to see things you won’t want to see.”
“I don’t think it will be that bad,” Yorito said. “If anything, I think that seeing the Yellow Raven’s policies in action might be a good learning experience for Tobi.”
“I’m going! I’m going!”
Tobi had already moved close to Hajime. He took Hajime’s hand and pumped it up and down with both of his own. “Thank you so much!” Tobi yelled in passable Japanese.
The handshake was one of the first things drilled into any Yatagarasu preparing to go abroad. It was a basic diplomatic gesture of the human world. The show of open hands expressed goodwill and peaceful intentions.
Tobi used his handshake in that way now, formally extending his goodwill as the leader of the Underground to a representative of the human world.
“I want to get along with humans. Someday, I want there to be an equal relationship between us. I think that would strengthen both the Underground and the human world.” He turned to Chihaya shamelessly. “Could you translate that for Hajime, please?”
Chihaya’s expression soured.
Yorito stepped in and translated.
“Is it all right for you to leave the Underground?” Chihaya asked. “Who’ll lead your people when you’re gone?”
“It’ll be fine,” Tobi said. “Sanji’s there.”
“You may not have thought about this, but if you get caught outside and can’t make it back…” Chihaya trailed off.
“Ah. That’d be a bit of a problem,” Tobi said quietly. Then he looked up at Yorito. “Yo, Red Cord! You owe me, right? So you have to keep me safe.”
“Is that how you ask someone for help?”
“I helped you, didn’t I? And you didn’t even ask first.”
“You could at least ask politely.”
Tobi pouted. “Please take me with you. There, I asked nicely.” Tobi was determined to go. Nothing and no one could dissuade him.
Yorito shrugged. “Fine, then. How are we going to fly?”
The original plan had been for Yorito to carry Hajime in raven form while Chihaya kept watch around them. If Yorito carried Hajime and Chihaya carried Tobi and they were attacked on the way, they would be severely hampered.
“Can’t we just walk there together?” Hajime asked.
Yorito understood his reluctance to fly, but he ignored it.
“I’ll follow you on my own,” Tobi said. “Just fly like I’m not there.”
Yorito hesitated. “We’ll be going quite fast.”
“I can keep up.”
He sounded so sure of himself that Yorito decided to believe him. Then he lashed Hajime to his back with a rope, hoisted him up, and then transformed.
Almost simultaneously, he sensed Chihaya and Tobi transforming behind him. He launched off the ground.
Hajime’s urgent complaints were drowned out by the wind.
Tobi was as good as his word. Yorito flew so fast that he was certain no child would be able to keep up, but Tobi managed it somehow, lagging but always staying in sight.
Clear Mirror Temple was built on a mountain slope. They passed over a wide road lined with shops and stately mansions until they reached the steep path leading up to the temple grounds. Still flying, they followed the path from above. Commoners and pilgrims flew nearby or walked below in human form. Petitioners could come to the temple in raven form as long as they had the proper identification sash and forms issued at the nearby security checkpoint.
They were flying in without a sash or papers, so Yorito was a bit concerned that they would be intercepted and detained by suspicious temple guards. Sure enough, guards flew up to meet them as they entered Clear Mirror Temple’s environs. Yorito presented his sword—which served as a substitute identification marker—with some tension.
Yamauchishu in the area had laid the groundwork for him. The guards waved them all through.
When they descended, Yorito and Chihaya returned to human form. They were admitted quickly and without further scrutiny.
Entering the temple with guards on either side of them, the group was ushered into an audience hall where they were permitted to sit and take a break.
“The head priest wishes to meet you. Please wait here,” a priest said politely to them. When he returned scant minutes later, he led them to the storehouse near the head priest’s quarters, not to the main hall as would be customary. The furnishings were not ornate, but they were large and solidly built.
Tobi looked like a fish out of water. He settled cross-legged on the floor with determined casualness. “So, who’s the top dog around here?” he asked.
“Clear Mirror Temple has been led by a member of the Souke family for generations. The current head priest is the former emperor’s elder brother.”
Taking religious vows within Yamauchi meant shedding one’s family affiliation to serve the mountain god. Without the emperor’s express permission, a religious man or woman pledged to the mountain god could not marry or have children.
After the great war, the current head priest had committed himself energetically to relief work for the poor. He was widely respected among the common people and was said to be fair-minded.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Natsuka, the head priest, said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried easily in the chamber. He was tall and broad, with straight-backed posture despite the gray streaks in his hair. He was middle-aged, not yet old, and his appearance was scrupulously neat, with not a hair out of place. He must have been handsome as a young man. Like the Yellow Raven, he wore a priest’s stole over his robes.
The Yellow Raven pretended to be an accommodating and reasonable man, but Natsuka was not made from the same mold. He looked more like a man who was impossible to please. Yorito didn’t think his appearance matched his mild-mannered reputation at all.
Yorito sat up straighter. Tobi stayed quiet. Chihaya gave Natsuka a slight nod in greeting, which Natsuka received without comment or acknowledgment.
Natsuka looked over the group, then moved directly toward Hajime.
“I am Natsuka of Clear Mirror Temple. You are Yasuhara Hajime, correct?” He didn’t seem impressed that a human was standing before him—or surprised. “I’ve heard about you. They say you want to keep your distance from the Yellow Raven.”
Yorito translated this.
“He’s slippery as an eel; I can’t trust him. Isn’t half of what he says a lie?” Hajime asked.
Yorito hesitated over how to render this.
Chihaya translated what he’d said word-for-word.
Natsuka laughed. “Only half? You are too generous.”
“What do you think of him?” Hajime asked.
Yorito translated the question.
Natsuka’s expression became serious. “I don’t like him. I often find myself opposed to him in political matters, and I think his methods are more than a little problematic.” He paused, glancing briefly at Yorito. “You’re the Yellow Raven’s man, aren’t you? I don’t mind if you report this conversation back to him.”
Yorito was caught off guard. “Um, I mean, sir…”
“That was a joke,” Natsuka said. He didn’t smile. He returned his attention to Hajime. “With all that said, the Yellow Raven never acts out of personal self-interest. He is a slave to necessity.” He said this slowly and deliberately. “The rationality of his policies must be acknowledged, even when his methods are far from rational or conventional.”
Tobi lifted his head. “You think what he’s doing is right?” he asked.
Natsuka looked at Tobi. “Do you?” he asked.
Tobi set his jaw. “My name is Tobi. I’m the boss of the Underground.”
Natsuka’s eyes widened slightly. He gave Tobi a grave nod. “I see. So you are the successor of the first Tobi.”
“Are you surprised to see me?”
“I’m not. My apologies for being slow to pay my respects to the Underground’s new boss. I’m glad you’re here.”
Tobi couldn’t conceal his own surprise. “I thought you would make fun of me,” he said. He’d never expected to receive a respectful greeting from a lord of the Souke family.
Natsuka’s lips quirked upward. “Why would I do that? When I was a young man, I met the previous Tobi, and he and King Saku gave me a thorough trouncing. I was never the same after. They were strict and imposing men.”
Clear Mirror Temple had its own dealings with the Underground, as it was deeply involved in assisting Yamauchi’s suffering poor. The temple provided shelter to refugees, including criminals on the run. Natsuka and Clear Mirror Temple had always honored the non-aggression pact between the Valley and the Imperial Court, even after Yukiya had broken it.
“At first, they paid me no mind whatsoever. In the end, I like to think we understood one another. Certainly, we could converse without trouble, but it took a long time for us to reach that point.”
Natsuka had become head priest of Clear Mirror Temple as a young man for political reasons, but his family was determined not to let him drop out of the line of succession. His mother had been the empress at the time, and she had wanted him to become the next emperor. He hadn’t considered policies for helping the poor until much later in his tenure.
The great war had brought Natsuka’s priorities into sharp focus. His disastrous first meeting with the Underground’s leadership was a constant source of shame, but it was undeniable that the Underground needed aid. Natsuka pushed past first impressions and provided that aid, never once considering his own pride. He stepped back from politics entirely and devoted all his time and resources to helping the common people of Yamauchi. Through that work, he eventually earned King Saku’s and Tobi’s respect.
“I used to speak to the previous Tobi frequently,” Natsuka said. “I often lamented that he wasn’t an official in the Imperial Court. He was an eminently sensible man.” He paused. “King Saku respected my work, but he never respected me. I suspect he could never quite forget his first impression. But I was fortunate enough to be given a rare opportunity to speak with him at length once. I asked him why he had decided to rule the Underground. He said: ‘Because you palace ravens are incompetent. There was no law that would save me, so I made one that would.’
“His answer shamed me. I could say nothing to contradict him. King Saku was a very old man, but he maintained his dignity to the end. He was the kind of man that everyone wanted to bow to, even me. Tobi was a remarkable man, but not in the same way. He was a skilled administrator and fighter, but I do not think the Underground and the Valley would have ever functioned as a unified society without King Saku’s leadership and influence. When I heard his death had been concealed for some years, I was not surprised.”
Imperial Court nobles had centuries of accumulated laws and influence backing them. The bosses of the Underground had nothing but force of will. Without King Saku, what would become of the Valley?
“I asked him, at the end of our conversation, what he intended to do. He said, ‘I made this place because I wanted a world that played by my own rules. I couldn’t care less about what happens to it after I’m dead.’ I asked him if he would care if the Valley were destroyed. He said he wouldn’t. ‘If they can’t manage it themselves, it should be smashed to pieces sooner rather than later.’ And then he told me to create the world I wanted, just as he had,” Natsuka said solemnly.
Tobi was hanging on his every word. He’d met King Saku only once, and he’d never heard him speak in person.
Natsuka sighed heavily. “Things are what they are. You will decide what becomes of the Underground from here. Steel your resolve, young Tobi.”
Tobi nodded, and then he smiled. “You didn’t have to tell me that. I’m already resolved. I’ll do what I have to do.”
Natsuka smiled back, quietly satisfied.
“Now, then. I hear you want to see some work sites. I’ll make the arrangements. Feel free to take a look around here.”
Before Yorito could remember to request an escort, Natsuka added, “I’ll assign temple guards to you. If anything happens, return here at once. I’ll give you as much assistance as I can.”
He began to rise, then paused. His gaze shifted to Hajime.
“If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to hear your honest opinion of things afterward. I’m curious about how it all looks to someone from the human world.”
Yōrō, somewhat perversely, means “care for the elderly.” This is clearly part of the name of a flying insect, however; the full name of the poison is yōrōhamushi no doku, literally “poison of the flying yōrō insect.”
Like most Japanese names, Hajime’s name kanji can be pronounced in multiple ways, and the name Hajime is common enough to have dozens of distinct spellings. More confusingly, the word (not name) hajime means “first” or “beginning,” a meaning related to the saku kanji meaning “new moon,” which marks the beginning of the lunar cycle. There’s a double pun here; Hajime’s name can also be read as Saku.
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