Yatagarasu Series
Volume 9:
The Raven's Loyalty
Author: Abe Chisato
Part 2: Seiken
Kiyora was the second son of Shichikiyo, a merchant. Shichikiyo owned of a large medicinal herb shop in Yamauchi’s capital. Kiyora’s older brother was much older than him, so he was doted on as the family baby. His parents and his brother lavished him with affection.
His older brother had many exceptional qualities. By the time Kiyora was ten, it was clear to everyone that he and he alone would be their father’s heir. Kiyora was a second son and was largely free to choose his own future. He could remain at home helping his brother or marry the daughter of one of their business connections.
The reason Kiyora chose to join the Yamauchishu was simple: he wanted to establish himself in an environment that was entirely unconnected to his family. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to understand his capabilities and failings if he always remained at home.
His father’s shop was located in the capital’s bustling merchant district. There was another shop down the street that sold illustrated books full of the exploits of the Yamauchishu. They were dignified, fierce, and gained the equivalent of noble status when they joined, even if they’d started out as commoners. Kiyora had been drawn to the Yamauchishu since childhood. He was not unique in that; many sons of commoners dreamed of testing their luck at the Keisōin in the hope that they would be selected to serve among the Yamauchishu.
Kiyora’s family supported his dreams. They hired a retired Yamauchishu to train him. Kiyora had genuine aptitude for combat and the Six Subjects that were required learning at the Keisōin. His family wasn’t rich enough for him to skip the long, long line of commoners seeking entry to the Keisōin, but Kiyora commanded himself to be patient.
His father secured the backing of the Minami Tachibana family to sponsor Kiyora. Kiyora enrolled in the Keisōin at the age of seventeen, just before the academy’s age cutoff limit.
The Keisōin proved to be an equalizing place, which was what Kiyora had hoped for. Commoners rubbed shoulders with noblemen and learned the same subjects. He found himself in a fairly fortunate position. His family had no expectations of him, as noble cadets often did, and he’d come to the Keisōin with previous training. His first year posed no real difficulties. He missed his comfortable home. Some poor cadets teased him for his wealth. No one really hated him, though, and he was glad to be there, working toward his dream.
Noble cadets could be insufferable at times, but most of the cadets were commoners like him. He enjoyed complaining with his fellows about the nobles’ excesses. The best-performing cadets were almost always commoners like himself.
Kiyora learned that he was lucky. Being a rich commoner was perhaps the best life available in Yamauchi. He saw the noble cadets’ anxieties up close, and he witnessed the material suffering of other commoners who were driven by desperation to succeed to save themselves and their families from poverty. He learned that everyone, noble and commoner, had problems and difficulties to overcome.
The Keisōin taught him more than he’d expected, and Kiyora was grateful for that. He enjoyed getting to know the other cadets and thought a lot about the future. Graduates of the Keisōin might spend their entire school career as friends but wind up as rivals if they decided to serve different lords post-graduation. He observed these relationships with fascination.
***
The first shadow fell over Kiyora’s life when he was still at the Keisōin.
A new emperor assumed the throne, Natsumihiko. The only emperor Kiyora had ever known until then was Emperor Natsuhiko, who had always governed well. His policies were reasonable, his attendants enjoyed serving him, and he was admired by many warriors and generals.
Emperor Natsumihiko was nothing like him.
Natsumihiko was the youngest son of Souke, elevated to his position after the deaths of his elder brothers. He was not prepared to govern, and it showed.
The imperial family paid close attention to the Keisōin, of course. The Yamauchishu served the imperial family directly. Natsumihiko’s late elder brothers had both come to the Keisōin while they were alive, but Natsumihiko never visited. He regarded the Yamauchishu as a nuisance and ignored the Keisōin completely.
Many mourned the sudden deaths of the elder princes. Some suspected conspiracy or malfeasance. Emperor Natsumihiko was viewed coldly by most. Even those who tried to serve him faithfully failed to gain his favor. He scarcely spoke to the Yamauchishu who’d sworn to serve him. He didn’t thank them for their efforts. He accepted their service as if it were only natural, and he never, ever let his guard down. He was paranoid by nature and trusted no one.
The previous emperor had considered the Yamauchishu to be his most trusted attendants. Disappointment rippled through the Keisōin at Emperor Natsumihiko’s attitude towards his guards.
Emperor Natsuhiko had worried about the unreliable Natsumihiko. He had taken an active role in educating Prince Natsuka, who was said to be like him in every way. Unfortunately, Natsuka was too young to reign when Emperor Natsuhiko died, or things in Yamauchi would have been very different.
By any standard, Emperor Natsumihiko’s rule was a failure. He couldn’t compromise with anyone or understand the perspectives of others. As long as Natsuhiko was alive, nothing terrible would happen, but who knew how many of the Yamauchishu would want to remain Yamauchishu after his death?
It might be better to serve a different noble family rather than the imperial family. No one in the Keisōin said this aloud, but the sentiment was everywhere and obvious.
Kiyora had chosen to become a Yamauchishu in an environment that was hostile to Yamauchishu, but he wasn’t going to give up on his dream just because the future appeared difficult.
Many other noble cadets who graduated from the Keisōin opted to become Yamauchishu as well, but everyone Kiyora knew felt open dissatisfaction with the newly enthroned Golden Raven.
Kiyora couldn’t seriously swear loyalty to a lord who had never even shown his face to him. If the Keisōin instructors who had taught him learned that he’d never seen the emperor in person, they would probably faint. If someone told him to throw his life away for Natsumihiko’s sake, he would refuse. He was a bad and disloyal Yamauchishu because he was given no reason to be good and loyal.
Loyal or not, Kiyora was a Yamauchishu. Yamauchishu were permitted to enter the Imperial Palace and were dispatched to all corners of Yamauchi. Some disliked being sent to the provinces, but Kiyora loved to travel. He enjoyed seeing places he’d never been and meeting new people. He was determined to see as much of Yamauchi as possible before he was forced into retirement.
After retiring from service as a Yamauchishu, Kiyora thought that he might serve the Minami Tachibana family, who had sponsored his education.
The Minami Tachibana family was a branch family of Nanke. Everyone knew that the Nanke family was important and powerful. Not everyone knew that the Minami Tachibana family had more material resources than they did. Kiyora had met the Lord of Minami Tachibana several times face-to-face, and the man was always scrupulously polite. He had his own aims, of course; it was beneficial to him to have a Yamauchishu in his debt. Kiyora hoped that when he retired from service, the Minami Tachibana family would be pleased to hire him.
Harboring such ulterior motives, Kiyora headed straight for the Minami Tachibana family’s estate after graduation from the Keisōin. He wanted to report that he had become one of the Yamauchishu.
The Lord of the Minami Tachibana family didn’t live in Nanke Territory, but in Souke Territory. His estate was a grand residence in no way inferior to the Nanke family’s city residence, which was close by.
Ordinarily, nobles who served in the Imperial Court built their homes on the slopes of Souke Territory’s central mountain. Lower- and middle-ranking noble residences were often built clinging to the rock face, the buildings connected by bridges.
The Minami Tachibana family’s mansion sat on a spacious rock shelf. A stone passage built along the mountain slope led straight to the gate. The mansion had been here just as long as the Nanke family’s mansion. The family had power and wealth, and they weren’t shy about showing it.
Kiyora had sent a message ahead to convey his intentions. He wished to pay his respects to the Lord of Minami Tachibana, who had graciously agreed to receive him.
Unfortunately, when Kiyora arrived, the Lord of Minami Tachibana was engaged with another visitor. He was led politely into a parlor and asked to wait.
“I’m terribly sorry to have kept you,” the aged steward said.
“Not at all, sir,” Kiyora replied with easy composure. “I am honored that the Lord of Minami Tachibana has agreed to meet me at all.”
“You are kind to say so,” the steward said. “It seems you will have to wait a little while longer. While you wait, how about taking a stroll in the garden? The cherry blossoms are in full bloom.”
Kiyora nodded. “Thank you. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
The estate’s garden was to the south of the mansion. It was large and well-tended. Every spring flower was in bloom; cherry blossoms fluttered to the ground and swirled around his feet. The past few days had been overcast, but today the sky was clear. Vivid yellow roses made a cheerful ring around the pond. Cherry petals floated on the water’s surface, creating ripples that warped from the wind.
Kiyora enjoyed exploring the garden. He decided that he would remain there until someone came to fetch him inside. He didn’t discover a single weed anywhere. He admired this at first, but the absence of even helpful weeds like shepherd’s purse gave him pause. The garden was almost too perfect, too fussy. The absence of any wild growth suggested that the gardener was a severe and irritable person.
“You, there! Are you one of the Yamauchishu?”
Kiyora looked up at a cherry tree and saw a young man sitting on a broad branch. His face was half-hidden by other branches. The hand extending from the sleeve of his casual hunting robe pointed to the red cord wrapped around Kiyora’s ceremonial sword.
The Yamauchishu sword was new to Kiyora, granted to him at his graduation scant hours before. To someone accustomed to the bamboo practice swords used by Keisōin cadets, it felt heavy. The red cord wrapped around the hilt was made from spider silk thread. It would soften with age and use, but the new cord still felt stiff and coarse under Kiyora’s fingers.
The young man showed no embarrassment and offered him no courtesy, so Kiyora guessed that he was a noble.
“Yes, I am,” Kiyora said. He didn’t look away from the young man.
The young man stopped pointing at him and then shrugged. “Huh.” He jumped down from the tree. The branch sprang back; cherry blossoms burst from it and fell in a rough spiral.
The young man landed in the middle of the spiral, directly in front of Kiyora. It was hard to tell his exact age, but Kiyora wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d already had his coming-of-age ceremony. He was tall—taller than Kiyora—and everything about him seemed to have been built on a larger-than-normal scale. The bridge of his nose was unusually high, creating a hawk-like look. His canine teeth flashed white when he smiled. His dark hair was tied back sloppily behind his head. There was a hint of childish roundness in his face, but his arms were muscular. He looked like he was just settling into a growth spurt, perhaps the last one he’d ever have.
Kiyora wouldn’t have described him as handsome or refined, but he had the kind of arresting presence that made it impossible to look away from him.
He was likely a member of the Minami Tachibana household, and he was permitted to climb the trees…
Kiyora stifled a gasp. This must be Michichika, the Lord of Minami Tachibana’s oldest son and heir. He hesitated—should he kneel? No. No, he had noble status now; he was a Yamauchishu. He bowed politely in greeting.
“I take it you are Lord Michichika of the Minami Tachibana family. I am Kiyora, and I became a Yamauchishu today.”
“You’re the youngest son of Shichikiyo, the guy who runs that medicinal herb shop, right?”
“Yes. That is correct,” Kiyora said, surprised to be recognized.
“Hmph. That’s hard to believe. Why did you become a Yamauchishu, anyway? The emperor you’ll swear service to isn’t worthy of it.” He tilted his head.
“Indeed, as things are now, I cannot swear loyalty to the emperor,” Kiyora said cautiously.
Michichika snorted. “You don’t even deny it? Some Yamauchishu you are.”
“I am also sworn to tell the truth,” Kiyora said with a touch of asperity. “I’ve never met His Imperial Majesty. Maybe I would be loyal to him if I met him. I don’t know for sure.”
“That’s a terrible argument, and you’re waffling. Why did you decide to be a Yamauchishu if you didn’t intend to give the emperor loyal service?”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“The Yamauchishu looked cool, so…”
Michichika snorted. “And no one ever questioned your motives?”
Kiyora reddened. “No one ever told me my motives were bad or anything.”
The boy gave him a sarcastic smile, but his eyes blazed with hatred. He thought of Kiyora as a traitor.
“I heard that only those who are truly loyal can become Yamauchishu, but… What do they even teach at the Keisōin these days?”
“I learned how things actually work,” Kiyora said. “We learned how our service should be, but everyone knows that things aren’t like that anymore.”
The boy blinked, round-eyed. “What do you mean?”
That was a difficult question to answer. It was clear that Michichika’s way of thinking was rather rigid, which was common in children and young people. He could rattle off definitions he’d read in textbooks or talk about Imperial Court gossip, but that felt like the wrong approach.
What was benevolence? What was righteousness? What were propriety, wisdom, loyalty, and trust? People of every social position attended the Keisōin, and all of them would give different answers to these questions. Even when they were taught the same things, their interpretations differed wildly.
Kiyora valued understanding the perspectives of his peers more than being able to answer a question himself.
“Cadets come from all over Yamauchi—rich, poor, or in between. Each cadet bears their own burdens and has their own opinions. By interacting with others who are different from them, their views become more specific and refined. I learned more there than can be learned from books. I can’t explain it well; you’ll have to go to the Keisōin yourself if you want to know more. I don’t know how long a traitor like me will remain a Yamauchishu, but I do not regret being a cadet at the Keisōin.”
“No,” Michichika said. “Why would you? I am convinced that you had valuable experiences there.”
The Keisōin’s purpose was to train Yamauchishu, not to provide sociological or political lessons. Kiyora understood that, but he also knew that he would never have resisted the prevailing narrative of Yamauchi’s nobles if he’d never gone to the Keisōin.
Michichika nodded slowly. “Interesting.” He sounded less hostile now and more curious.
“Yes, it was a very interesting place.”
“I would like to go to the Keisōin, too.”
Kiyora didn’t take the boy’s words seriously. At the time, almost all nobles who planned to become Yamauchishu were from the Hokke family. There were only a handful of fallen nobles who couldn’t use the Imperial Court’s Shadow Rank system to claim a place for themselves. From a commoner’s point of view, becoming a Yamauchishu was aspirational, but nobles were different. Most of them didn’t want to learn how to fight, and they balked at self-sacrificing service to the emperor.
“I’m sure you would be an excellent cadet,” Kiyora said pleasantly.
He didn’t think for a moment that Michichika would actually enter the Keisōin, but he wasn’t flattering the boy. He could tell that Michichika was uncommonly intelligent.
Before Michichika could reply, a manservant came to call Kiyora inside, and the conversation ceased.
Kiyora bowed politely and left the garden.
***
Kiyora forgot about that brief encounter in the garden. He continued his service as a Yamauchishu and ran into no particular problems. He’d gotten good grades at the Keisōin, so he was selected to become one of Emperor Natsumihiko’s personal guards.
The emperor, true to the rumors, treated Kiyora and his other guards coldly. Kiyora’s fellow Yamauchishu spoke of their dissatisfaction openly to him, showing far less restraint than they had as cadets at the Keisōin.
Kiyora tried to be a loyal guard, but the more he tried, the worse the emperor’s attitude became. His compatriots were restless and unsettled. This could not continue.
The Keisōin’s new Commandant showed his impatience with the emperor more publicly than anyone else. It was customary for the Keisōin’s Commandant to be replaced with a change of reigning emperor, but Emperor Natsumihiko showed no interest in such things. Shōkaku was selected by Natsumihiko’s grandfather on his grandson’s behalf. He was a serious man, and he wanted to build rapport with the new emperor desperately. All of his efforts were rebuffed.
Shōkaku had been an instructor at the Keisōin for many years before becoming the academy’s Commandant. Kiyora had been in his classes and knew him as a genial man who was never particularly strict. Shōkaku hadn’t originally been in the running to become the Keisōin’s next Commandant, but the previous instructor selected for the role had bowed out after the death of the eldest prince, whom he’d been close friends with. Shōkaku had no ambition to become the Commandant, and he often acted like the role had been thrust upon him without his consent. That might have been the truth; Kiyora didn’t know how and why he’d been selected.
Despite the turbulent circumstances of his appointment, Shōkaku made every effort to build trust with Emperor Natsumihiko.
Unfortunately, the emperor seemed not to understand the situation at all. He treated Shōkaku harshly, and morale among the Yamauchishu declined sharply in response.
Kiyora was proud to be a Yamauchishu, but that pride was tarnished. Cadets currently in training dropped out of the Keisōin in disgust. Only hot-blooded fools without other options or upstart commoners like Kiyora attended the Keisōin willingly now. No one gossiped about the emperor—military discipline prevented that—but privately, the Yamauchishu knew that their days of honorable and glorious service were over. They served the emperor in name only.
A few years into his insincere service, Kiyora received a summons from the Lord of Minami Tachibana. Such summons were neither rare nor commonplace; Kiyora had visited the main estate of the family to pay his respects during festivals and holidays several times over the years.
This time, though, the Lord of Minami Tachibana had summoned him with a letter written in his own hand. That was very peculiar. Kiyora was curious, but not worried. The Lord of Minami Tachibana was a consummate politician. He likely knew about the difficulties the Yamauchishu were currently experiencing. Perhaps he was concerned about Kiyora’s future? That seemed unlikely, but not impossible.
It was almost summer. The cherry blossoms had long since bloomed and were now sporting dark green leaves. Kiyora entered the Minami Tachibana city estate and announced his arrival. Usually he was made to wait, but this time he was guided to the Lord of Minami Tachibana immediately.
Yasuchika, the Lord of Minami Tachibana, and his son sat at a table in the lord’s parlor. This boy was not Michichika, but a younger boy who resembled him. He was tall and fit like Michichika, but he was gloomy and sullen, which didn’t describe his older brother at all. He introduced himself as Kimichika, Michichika’s younger brother by three years. Lord Yasuchika had recently appointed Kimichika as his heir.
“Huh?” Kiyora blurted out.
“Lord Kimichika shall be the next Lord of Minami Tachibana,” Lord Yasuchika said.
Kiyora shook his head. “But I thought… that is, isn’t Lord Michichika your heir?”
Lord Yasuchika sighed heavily. “He is now at the Keisōin.”
Kiyora was stunned.
“Lord Michichika is a Keisōin cadet? Why?”
“I was hoping you might explain that to me, Kiyora,” Lord Yasuchika said.
Kiyora’s thoughts churned. He remembered speaking to Michichika about the Keisōin once, and very briefly. “Surely you don’t believe that I influenced him to become a cadet? I mentioned the Keisōin only once when I spoke to him some years ago.”
The conversation had been nothing to Kiyora. Trivial. He had a hundred such insignificant talks with other people every day. He’d only spoken to Michichika because it would have been discourteous to ignore him.
Lord Yasuchika nodded coldly. “Indeed, you have influenced him. After speaking to you in the garden, he decided that he wanted to go to the Keisōin.”
“Oh, my…” This was an outrage. Kiyora placed a hand over his chest to calm his agitated breathing. “Forgive me. I did not intend… that is, if I said something like that, I beg for your mercy, Lord Yasuchika.”
“There is no need for that,” Lord Yasuchika said. “I summoned you because I am grateful. I am not angry.”
Kiyora said nothing. Everything he knew about Michichika painted him as a capable heir. Why had he decided to throw his secure future away to go to the Keisōin? His younger brother should be there in his place.
Lord Yasuchika narrowed his eyes. “Do not concern yourself regarding Michichika,” he said. “He will not succeed me as my heir. All I wish for now is for him to die as soon as possible.”
***
Michichika was Yasuchika’s long-awaited first child. He was the son of Yasuchika’s wife, not a concubine, so he was descended from two powerful noble families. At birth, his future seemed bright and happy.
The boy was doomed by his intelligence. At first, this was seen as a blessing. He could fluently recite difficult verses taught to him, and he understood politics and relationships instinctively, as if it were second nature. He memorized the faces and names of new servants in hours, not days or weeks. When taken to social gatherings with other nobles, he behaved like the adults around him. He was never childlike, not really.
Michichika was outstanding even among noble children his same age. People did nothing but praise him.
The first person to voice doubt to Yasuchika was his wife—Michichika’s mother.
“Don’t you think he’s strange?” she asked one day. “He is certainly very clever, but there are times when he is too clever, don’t you think?” She turned her face away.
Yasuchika had no idea what she was talking about. He’d always been proud of his son. “He’s smart. What’s wrong with that?”
“I feel as though his emotions are not developing. He is too rational.”
When he asked her to explain further, she said that she found it difficult to converse with their son normally about day-to-day life.
Michichika was a perfect child. He always did exactly as he was told. When he was asked a question, he answered it clearly and concisely.
Yasuchika had never struggled to communicate with Michichika. He laughed and said, “I still don’t see the problem. He behaves the way he is taught to behave. How can we complain about that?”
Most of the conversations Yasuchika had with Michichika were one-sided. He gave his son instructions for noble behavior. Michichika absorbed it all effortlessly.
It was inarguable that Michichika only ever did what he was told. Yasuchika had never considered that problematic. Didn’t every parent want an obedient child?
“His wet nurse noticed before I did,” Michichika’s mother said. “I didn’t understand what was wrong, either—not until Kimichika was born. You can see it more easily when you compare them. Michichika is uncommonly intelligent, but he has no compassion for others. It’s almost like he has no feelings at all.”
Michichika could memorize difficult classics that even adults struggled with in an afternoon, and yet he had no idea what the servant beside him was thinking. He had no desire for that knowledge, either. He didn’t find people interesting.
Yasuchika thought that perhaps Michichika was aping professional distance. He didn’t have close relationships with his servants, so why should his son? He spoke to Michichika about being kinder and more approachable, but Michichika didn’t understand what he meant. He made no attempt whatsoever to change.
People were afraid of Michichika. He was still a child, but his nurse and his feather mother were terrified of being in his presence.
Yasuchika’s wife had brought her concerns to her husband because of an incident that had required her immediate attention.
Until quite recently, Michichika’s feather mother, Menotogo, had been raising a baby swallow that had fallen from its nest, keeping it in her room. She had cared for it diligently, and it was almost ready to fly away again. Before she could release the swallow, Michichika found it—and killed it.
Menotogo asked Michichika why he would do such a thing.
“Because it was noisy,” he said without a scrap of hesitation.
Menotogo’s room was far from Michichika’s. She attended upon him when necessary and never neglected her duties. While walking in the garden, Michichika had come across the baby swallow by chance. When it began chirping, thinking it would be given food, he had been annoyed by the noise, so he’d crushed it in his hand.
When Menotogo heard this, she burst into tears and scolded him harshly.
Michichika didn’t care. On the contrary, when Menotogo kept crying, he said, “You’re noisy,” and then slammed her face into the ground. The poor woman fainted. The fall broke her two front teeth.
Kimichika’s stunned nurse scolded Michichika. He kicked her away and silenced her with violence as well.
Such incidents couldn’t be overlooked. Kimichika’s nurse had reported what she’d seen to Yasuchika’s wife, hoping that Michichika’s birth mother would reprimand her son directly.
Michichika’s mother was stunned by her report. She summoned Michichika and heard his version of events, but she couldn’t make sense of what he said.
“Even when I said it was noisy, it would not stop. All I did was make it quiet. Why are you so angry with me, Mother?” he asked, bewildered.
They looked at each other, equally confused but for very different reasons. Michichika was acting like she was being unreasonable.
“The baby bird wasn’t chirping in your room, was it? All you had to do was move away.”
“Why must I?” he asked. “It could have moved as well. This house is mine, isn’t it?”
“That is correct; it is your house, but you’re not the only one living in it. Since you will become the master of this house, you must consider others who live and serve here.”
“Why?” he asked, clear-eyed and focused. “I behaved properly as the master of the house, exactly as I have been taught. The house’s servants and other inhabitants should respect me. The bird disobeyed me, so why must I show it consideration?”
“Should a master punish his servants and retainers with violence? Of course not. Defiance does not mean that tyranny is permitted. Even the lowest peasant will resent you if you treat them cruelly.”
“Then they can leave, and I can get new servants. What’s the problem?”
Menotogo had been assigned to Michichika since his birth, but he showed no distress at the idea of replacing her. It seemed like he didn’t value her at all.
Michichika’s mother frowned. “Servants and attendants are people, just as we are. They have feelings and desires, and if you do not care about them, no one will serve you.”
Michichika scoffed. “That won’t happen. Our family is too powerful. Everyone wants to serve us.”
“Even if that were true, they would be serving you because of our family’s power. They would not be serving you directly, because they would not like or trust you.”
“What’s wrong with that? I am Michichika of the Minami Tachibana family. Service to me and service to my family are the same thing, aren’t they?”
Michichika’s mother considered this. “Then… what if I said I no longer wished to see you? What would you do?”
Her son shrugged. “If you don’t want to see me, then we won’t meet. Is it more complicated than that?”
Michichika’s mother blinked. “If… If I could no longer see you, I would be very sad. Wouldn’t you feel the same way?”
Michichika shrugged. “Why should I? You would be sad, but I might feel something different.”
His mother was briefly speechless. She understood now that her eldest son did not—could not?—form emotional attachments to other people. He felt nothing for his most loyal attendant. He felt nothing for her, even though she was his mother. Did he have any feelings at all? She couldn’t bear to contemplate that.
Michichika’s mother met with her husband to tell him what she’d learned. Michichika was focused only on himself; no one and nothing else mattered. Kimichika, who was only four, had more compassion for others. She begged her husband to make Michichika understand the responsibilities of the Lord of Minami Tachibana. A lord without loyal attendants and servants was no lord at all.
Yasuchika was somewhat shaken by this unexpected flaw in his otherwise ideal heir. His wife was a steady and capable woman, not prone to histrionics or displays of emotion. He trusted her judgment completely.
“Thank you for telling me this. Leave the rest to me,” he said to her.
“Thank you. I pray that you will be successful in teaching him what he needs to know.” She smiled slightly and then bowed her head. “I beg of you. Do everything in your power to make him understand.”
Yasuchika didn’t quite believe that his eldest son had said and done such monstrous things, but he was determined to follow through with his wife’s request. If Michichika couldn’t comprehend things emotionally, then Yasuchika would appeal to reason and logic.
That didn’t work, either.
Yasuchika stared down at his son in amazement. “What on earth are you thinking? A lord must always treat his servants and retainers with respect. You’re acting like an inhumane tyrant.”
“No I’m not,” Michichika said. “I haven’t. My servants are just that: servants. Those who fail to respect and obey me are not fit to serve me. They do not know their place.”
“So a servant is never allowed to gainsay or disobey you, even when you are wrong? With that kind of attitude, how will you interact with other nobles?”
Michichika gave this question some thought. “If a servant corrects an error, that is acceptable, but that is not what happened, Father. Kimichika’s nurse and Menotogo only shouted at me. I didn’t interpret their actions as correcting an error. Why would I treat them the same as other nobles when they are not noble?”
“You fool!”
There were problems that couldn’t be resolved by status. Michichika’s attitude toward others made him worse than unlikable. Other people would loathe him, if they didn’t already—and hated nobles had short lives.
“You must treat your servants with courtesy,” Yasuchika said in a measured tone. “They can make your life better or worse by their actions.”
Michichika tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”
“For example, they might damage your stirrup and cause you to fall from your horse.”
“Then I would transform and save myself.”
“They could poison your food.”
“I have knowledge of a great many poisons, Father.”
“They may gang up on you and beat you with clubs.”
“I have trained in swordsmanship. I could cut them down.”
“Are you saying that anyone who doesn’t obey you may be put to death without consequences?”
“I am properly conducting myself as a lord. Servants who try to kill their master should die. Let me ask you this: what value does a disobedient servant have? Why must they not be killed? There are plenty of people who can be servants. They are easily replaced.”
Yasuchika was at a loss for words. He decided to hire a skilled former Yamauchishu as an instructor for Michichika. He didn’t want his heir to cut down everyone in the household one day. He never would have believed that was a possibility until today.
The new instructor was a veteran who had spent twenty years instructing boys who wished to enroll in the Keisōin.
When told of Michichika’s difficulties, the instructor said sternly, “The young lord has never been bested by someone more skilled than he is. He likely believes himself to be the cleverest and strongest boy in the world. He is gifted and has known nothing but praise, so he does not understand that there are people stronger and better than him. He must learn this lesson, and then he will come to his senses and see reason.”
Heartened by these words, Yasuchika officially appointed him as Michichika’s new swordsmanship instructor. He was an excellent teacher who gave Michichika his full attention. He taught unstintingly, teaching Michichika all he knew. When they sparred, he defeated Michichika soundly, unlike all previous swordsmanship instructors. He disciplined Michichika severely whenever he behaved badly or harmed a servant.
“Does it hurt, young lord? But the one there whom you just struck surely suffered far more. Because of his position, he cannot defy you and fight back. You must come to know his pain, so that you learn never to strike out against a servant in anger.”
Michichika expressed mild surprise at being disciplined for the first time in his life. He never complained. His swordsmanship improved by leaps and bounds; he went to the dojo to train every morning. He studied and practiced independently as well, trying to learn all he could—archery, horsemanship, everything. His instructor assisted him with these endeavors when asked.
Michichika stopped abusing his servants and attendants as the days passed. He stopped saying disturbing, coldly rational things as well. Relieved by how calm and reasonable he had become, Yasuchika allowed himself to be proud of his heir once more.
That pride didn’t last. When he looked back on this time of his life, Yasuchika considered it a brief and pleasant illusion, cruelly shattered by harsh reality.
The day that Michichika lost his status as heir dawned as usual. There was nothing at all strange about the morning. Yasuchika went to his study to look over some papers. After about an hour, he received word that Michichika’s swordsmanship instructor had been gravely injured in the dojo.
Rushing over in a panic, he found the man being carried out through the sliding wooden doors, unconscious. His face was swollen. Blood flowed from his mouth and nose, and there were bruises all over his arms and chest.
At first Yasuchika thought that these injuries had been caused by a training accident, but he was wrong.
Every morning, Michichika and his swordsmanship instructor went to the dojo to spar. That day, Michichika had defeated his instructor for the first time. Michichika had not been injured at all. He stood in the corner of the dojo, idly tapping his shoulder with the flat of his blade.
“Michichika, what on earth happened?”
“I won.”
“You won?”
“We were sparring. I can finally win now!” Michichika cracked his neck with a self-satisfied air.
Yasuchika was aghast. “You—you did this to him? On purpose? Why?”
“Perhaps my instructor has simply grown weaker with age? I think that I have grown stronger recently, too.”
“No, no. That’s not what I’m asking. I am asking why you injured him to that extent!”
Michichika nodded. “My instructor said: ‘One who rules by force is in turn ruled by a greater force.’ So I thought that I should become a force greater than anything else.” He said this as if he were reciting an imperial edict, inflexible and impossible to contradict.
One who rules by force is in turn ruled by a greater force.
Michichika had overpowered his instructor. He was stronger than the man now.
“Thanks to my instructor, I have become much stronger and more skilled,” Michichika said. He laughed.
Yasuchika stared at him as if he’d never seen him before. His eldest son was only twelve years old—still growing. He was already almost obscenely tall and muscular. His eyes were cold and cruel even when he smiled.
He could kill me right now if he wanted to, Yasuchika thought. I wouldn’t stand a chance against him.
When had his son become so terrifying? He had willingly given this monster even greater power, though that was not his intent.
Driven by urgency, Yasuchika summoned more martial artists to replace the instructor. Michichika defeated them all, treating each of them as a test of strength. He laughed whenever he won, gloating over his victims with evident glee. Even when facing multiple opponents at once, Michichika never lost. He honed himself on his opponents, growing stronger with every fight.
Those defeated and wounded by Michichika were all in agreement. They said almost the same things to Yasuchika.
“That boy is a genius.”
“He is very strong and extraordinarily intelligent.”
“It’s frightening to think that he is still a child.”
“He will only grow stronger from here.”
One unfortunate man had his arm broken by a single strike of Michichika’s wooden sword. Another’s knee joint was crushed; he could no longer walk. Another had his face smashed in by Michichika’s fist.
Michichika never showed his martial arts instructors any mercy. No instructor of martial arts, no matter how skilled, could defeat him.
When the wave of martial artists ceased, Michichika became bored with training.
“Does ‘greater power’ also refer to political power?” he asked his father. “Perhaps I should set my sights on the Golden Raven next.” He said this casually, with no special emphasis.
Yasuchika felt like he had plunged into a midwinter pond.
“Stop this, Michichika. You will be the Lord of Minami Tachibana. Why do you believe that you need more power?”
“Natsumihiko neglects his responsibilities. Replacing him is reasonable.”
“Just because you can do something does not mean you should! Do you realize what would happen if you did such a thing?”
“I would be the Golden Raven, of course. There are any number of ways to accomplish that. I think I could probably manage it fairly well.”
Yasuchika shuddered. Michichika never said anything he didn’t mean. If his son wanted to become the Golden Raven, he would.
“And what would you do if you became the Golden Raven? Wouldn’t ruling be bothersome to you?”
“I would simply do as I please.”
“As you please—and what does that mean?”
Michichika looked up at the sky with a childish gesture that didn’t suit his large frame. “Who knows?” he murmured absently. “When I was aiming to defeat my instructor, I had purpose. But now, there is nothing for me to do. I am so idle I can hardly stand it. Perhaps I would enjoy being the Golden Raven. It’s worth trying, I think.”
Yasuchika had to stop his son at all costs. He needed to protect himself, the rest of his family, and Yamauchi as a whole.
Fortunately, Kimichika was a healthy child, so he didn’t have to worry about who would succeed him.
The Minami Tachibana family possessed knowledge of a secret poison that had almost no taste or smell. The method of preparation was handed down from one Lord of Minami Tachibana to another. Michichika should have no knowledge of the poison.
Yasuchika had never imagined that he would use such a thing on his own child, but if he was going to use it, he had to use it now.
He mixed the poison into the strongly seasoned soup at dinner. A maid who knew nothing of his plans carried the tray to Michichika.
Yasuchika’s sorrow could not be consoled. If he didn’t fear his son so much, he never would have done this. He was Michichika’s father, and that made him responsible for Michichika’s actions—and his future. He couldn’t allow his son to destroy everything.
Forgive me, Michichika.
With one hand over his pounding heart, Yasuchika listened for Michichika’s scream.
It never came.
Footsteps on the veranda outside his room warned him of an impending visitor.
“It is written in the Book of Filial Piety: ‘A son or daughter must worry about their parents’ illnesses,’” Michichika said in a loud, clear voice. “It also says this: ‘The body, hair, and skin are received from one’s father and mother. Refusal to injure or wound them is the foundation of filial piety.’”
The hair on Yasuchika’s arms stood on end.
“‘To establish oneself and follow the Way, leaving one’s name to posterity and thereby bringing honor to one’s father and mother—that is the goal of filial piety.’”
Michichika opened the door. He held the poisoned bowl of soup in his hand.
There was no time to flee.
“So why?” Michichika asked his silent father with apparent puzzlement. “I have honored you, Father, just as I was taught. I should be a source of pride to you. I am healthy and I am growing and learning so that I can make a name for myself. So why are you trying to kill me?”
Michichika appeared wholly innocent. What answer could Yasuchika give him?
“What a foolish question,” he said. “I am not trying to kill you.”
Michichika frowned. “But this is poisoned.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I can tell. And this poison is one that only you know how to prepare, Father.” Michichika sat down in front of Yasuchika and placed the vermilion-lacquered bowl between them. “Since you claim that you put nothing in it, go ahead and drink it.”
He offered the bowl to his father.
Yasuchika could barely breathe. “Why should I do such a thing? Return to your room at once.”
“Return to my room? Why?” Michichika’s eyebrows drew together. “Why will you not give me a clear answer?”
“Return to your room,” Yasuchika repeated. He watched his son’s back as he departed. When he was gone, he slumped on his cushion.
One who rules by force is in turn ruled by a greater force.
Yasuchika had made a fatal mistake. Michichika might kill him tomorrow. He had to do something about him quickly.
But how? Yasuchika didn’t know what could stop his son now.
The next day, Michichika spoke with a young member of the Yamauchishu who had come to visit. After that, he became keenly interested in the Keisōin.
***
“It seems that you made the Keisōin sound interesting to him,” Yasuchika said to Kiyora.
Before replacing the Golden Raven, Michichika wanted an education. Yasuchika used his interest in the Keisōin as an opportunity to disinherit him and send him away to the military academy. Kimichika was now Yasuchika’s heir.
Yasuchika hired several people to keep watch over Michichika at the Keisōin. However, none of them could endure sharing a room with him. One cadet a year above him ruined his health by dealing regularly with Michichika and left the Keisōin. A peer assigned to the same room soon fell ill and suffered incapacitation.
Michichika remained at the Keisōin, even during breaks. He passed his first trial and became a second-year cadet. Two younger cadets assigned to share his room had been hired by Yasuchika to keep an eye on him, but one of them went home almost immediately.
“No one knows how long this will continue. The thought that he might change his mind at any moment makes it impossible for me to live in peace. He could drop out today, for all I know, and start plotting to take the Golden Raven’s place. My son is a beast without honor,” he said. “He brings nothing but calamity to those around him. Perhaps it would have been better if he’d never been born.”
“My lord?” Kiyora asked. “May I speak?”
Yasuchika nodded.
“I believe you may have judged Lord Michichika too harshly,” Kiyora said. He couldn’t imagine hearing his father speak of him in the same way. His father had never disciplined him physically. Violence was not part of his family dynamic. As a young man he’d struck his elder brother in a rage, and instead of fighting back, his brother had calmly explained why reacting with violence was wrong. His family had explained that to him many times in different ways until he understood.
Kiyora knew that not every child was obedient and reasonable—certainly not all the time. Some children resisted doing what they were told because they couldn’t understand the reason why. Yasuchika was more like his son than he realized. He’d been trying to coerce Michichika with the threat of physical harm for his entire life.
As he sat there before his benefactor, Kiyora felt nothing but pity for Lord Michichika. He was still a child—an overgrown one, perhaps, but even so. His parents had used his substantial gifts to twist him out of shape. His father had just said it might have been better if he’d never been born—and what did that say about Yasuchika’s parenting? Nothing positive.
Kiyora was angry at Yasuchika—angry past endurance—but he couldn’t show it.
Yasuchika gave him an exasperated look. “You doubt me,” he said. “I see it. In that case, try educating Michichika for yourself. You’ll see how he is firsthand.”
Kiyora’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How would I even do that?”
“You would become an instructor at the Keisōin.”
Kiyora gaped.
“No one I send manages to keep an eye on Michichika for long,” Yasuchika said. “And I can’t just leave him to his own devices; that would be irresponsible.”
Kiyora nodded hesitantly. “Uh… all right. I’ll do it.” He made this decision rashly because of his pity for Yasuchika’s son. In any other situation, he would have rejected the Lord of Minami Tachibana’s suggestion out of hand.
He’d never considered teaching at the Keisōin before. Now that the possibility was real, he wondered why not. Teaching didn’t intimidate him. Maybe he’d be a good instructor. He could envision himself educating Keisōin cadets easily, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place.
“Very well.” The Lord of Minami Tachibana nodded. “I shall make the necessary arrangements.”
Kiyora’s agreement made Yasuchika’s plans easier to implement. It was clear that he intended to foist the Michichika problem onto Kiyora. Kiyora found that he didn’t really mind. He wanted to help Michichika if he could.
Kimichika had remained silent for the entire meeting. He gave Kiyora a slight bow as he left.
Kiyora looked back at Yasuchika’s second son with mixed feelings. He could only solve one problem at a time.
***
The Lord of Minami Tachibana acted swiftly. Within a few days, notice was sent to the Keisōin and the Yamauchishu. Kiyora resigned from his position honorably and without ceremony on the date that Yasuchika had decided for him.
When Kiyora returned his sword, he didn’t feel the slightest trace of regret. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps he should have never become a Yamauchishu. Maybe he was always destined for something else.
Instructors at the Keisōin were priests in all but name. Taking religious vows made marriage difficult. Kiyora was told that he wouldn’t have to take vows as an assistant instructor, but Kiyora chose to become a full instructor. He’d already spent years as a purposeless Yamauchishu. He knew that he wouldn’t leave this path easily. If possible, he wanted to remain a Keisōin instructor for the rest of his life.
Kiyora’s family was devastated. His parents had been planning his marriage for months, and he’d dashed all those plans without a second thought. He hadn’t even consulted them. He had several confusing conversations with his parents before things settled down.
In the end, Kiyora’s family chose not to abandon or disown him. Priest or not, they claimed him as family. His parents made Kiyora promise that he would contact them if he ever needed help, and then they gave their blessing for him to start his new career at the Keisōin. They knew that he’d been offered a prestigious position. He was a merchant’s son, and now he would be teaching the next generation of Yamauchishu. It was almost too good to be true.
Kiyora often reflected that those who were fortunate were not necessarily happy. He considered himself contented most of the time. He’d chosen his own path, and he enjoyed many benefits—status, wealth, and influential friends.
Despite all this, Kiyora considered his upbringing to be the most fortunate stroke of luck he’d had in life. His parents and his siblings were always on his side. He’d seen firsthand that many Keisōin cadets didn’t have such support. Now he was placed to provide that support, even for the most wretched commoner cadets. He considered it his mission and his calling to create an equal playing field for all the cadets that he taught.
When Kiyora took his religious vows, he adopted the priest name of Seiken. Commandant Shōkaku, who had known him while he was a cadet, had suggested the name to him.
“I am sure that you, of all people, will be able to live up to such a name. You will begin as an assistant instructor. Depending on your work, we shall formally accept you as a full instructor.”
“I thank you for your guidance, Commandant.” Instructor Seiken bowed low.
He was young for an instructor. He never thought he’d return to the place he’d graduated from only a few years before.
***
After unpacking his personal belongings in his room, Seiken toured the Keisōin to greet his fellow instructors. He also asked about Michichika.
What he learned defied sense. Michichika was a model cadet, but he was also everyone’s problem. The other instructors praised him and then criticized him, sometimes in the same sentence.
“Michichika is an excellent cadet. I have never seen him make a mistake in his written subjects.”
“His practical skills are outstanding as well. Lately the quality of graduating cadets has been declining, but he would easily earn top honors even when our standards were much higher.”
“But he’s a problem child.”
“Can you even call him a problem child? He breaks people.”
“He doesn’t care if they’re seniors or peers.”
“Even full instructors are in danger. There was that assistant instructor who tried to correct him and got beaten instead, do you remember?”
“That fellow had his throat crushed, didn’t he?”
“The cadet who shared his room collapsed, coughing up blood. He went home to recover and never came back. I wonder what became of him…”
“There was also the time he killed the bandits who broke in single-handedly.”
“He kills without hesitation.”
“It’s hard to believe he is a noble cadet sometimes.”
Michichika’s academic excellence was unquestioned, but opinions on his character were uniformly negative. Several instructors told Seiken that Michichika had only one roommate now, and everyone expected him to drop out any day.
Michichika’s roommate was named Midori. Seiken was curious about Midori and decided to seek him out, but there was no need for that. When Michichika learned that Seiken had become an instructor, he came to see him at dinner. Midori was with him.
“So you came? Father must be short on pawns these days.”
Michichika had grown since Seiken had seen him last.
“I am glad to see you well,” Seiken said mildly. “Are you enjoying your time here?”
“Now that you’ve come, maybe I will,” Michichika said brazenly. “So far, I do not find it very interesting. At least I am not idle, as I was at home. This is how I pass the time now,” he said.
Michichika yanked Midori in front of him. Midori was a much shorter boy with long black hair and delicate features. There was no emotion on his face at all. He looked like Michichika’s total opposite. He was more like a fragile ceremonial doll than a strong military cadet.
“This is Hamidori.”
“Hamidori?” Seiken asked. He’d heard the cadet’s name as Midori before, when he was speaking to the other instructors.
“Only Michichika calls me Hamidori. I would be grateful if you would call me Midori, Instructor Seiken,” the boy said politely. His face didn’t shift, and his voice had no inflection. He really was like a doll come to life.
***
The following morning, Seiken woke before the sun rose. Feeling disinclined to go back to sleep, he dressed quickly and decided to wander around the Keisōin until breakfast. He’d spent most of the previous day talking to his fellow instructors.
It had been several years since he had last been to the Keisōin. Seiken felt nostalgic taking in all the familiar sights and sounds, but he was also searching for the unfamiliar. Had anything changed since he’d been away? He’d arrived in the middle of a school term and felt a little out of place. He walked through the grounds and gardens and considered what he would do next.
It was a clear and beautiful summer morning. It had rained the previous night, so the air was crisp and smelled clean. As Seiken wandered aimlessly, enjoying himself more than he’d anticipated, he came across a cadet standing by a well not too far from the cadet dormitories. It was too early for morning training.
The cadet poured a bucket of water over his sweaty face, choking and spluttering.
A cool breeze made Seiken shiver. This wasn’t the best morning to be wet. The cadet might get sick. He walked briskly toward the cadet.
“Him… I’ll kill that bastard!” the cadet snarled. The well carried his voice to Seiken.
The cadet’s tone was pure venom. He was all but vomiting hatred and vitriol. He slammed his fist against the cover placed over the well. The bamboo sprang up with a sharp clatter.
Only then did he notice that Seiken was standing there.
The cadet was Midori, Michichika’s roommate.
“Did something happen?” Seiken asked.
Midori looked cowed. He flinched and looked away.
Seiken noticed that he was covered in bruises from head to toe. What had happened to this boy?
“Don’t ask that,” Midori said in a clipped tone. “Are you an idiot? You know what happened.”
Where had Midori’s meekness from their first meeting gone? His eyes flashed. Angry and terrified, he looked more vital and human than he ever had to Seiken before.
Seiken nodded cautiously. “I guess that Michichika is responsible.”
“I can still do this. I won’t run away.”
Seiken remembered his time as a cadet. Like Midori, he’d come here only because he was sponsored by the Minami Tachibana family. If he failed—if the Lord of Minami Tachibana became displeased with him—he would lose his place. He had no choice but to endure.
When Seiken was a cadet, he could have done nothing to help Midori. Now he was an instructor, here at the Lord of Minami Tachibana’s command. He considered his options for a few moments and then said, “You don’t have to run away from the Keisōin. But you should run away from Michichika.”
“Huh?” Midori frowned. “What are you talking about? Doing one is the same as doing the other.”
“Now that I’m here, I’m saying there’s no need for you to stay in the same room as Michichika. I’ll arrange a different room for you immediately. You’re a cadet, and you’re here to learn.”
“You can’t do that,” Midori snapped. “Neither can I.”
“But—”
“The Lord of Minami Tachibana gave me orders. I have to look after that thing.”
“This is the Keisōin. The Lord of Minami Tachibana is not present to observe you. Michichika clearly does not need or relish your company. Why is there any need for you to take care of him? If the Lord of Minami Tachibana complains, direct him to me.”
Midori was taken aback. “But… that bastard won’t accept it.” He sounded more uncertain now, like he wanted to believe Seiken but didn’t dare.
“My room is number 17 in the instructors’ dormitory. Do you know where that is? It’s right in front of the frog statue.”
Midori narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Seiken gave him a friendly smile. “If you ever need a place to run to, feel free to use it. I always keep it unlocked. If having someone else in the room bothers you, you may throw me out. Unlike children, adults have plenty of places they can run to.”
Midori’s mouth hung open. “Are you insane?”
“I assure you that I am of sound mind.”
“Michichika might go on a rampage.”
“I do not understand why he resorts to violence so often, but we have no obligation to yield to his violence.”
“He might kill you.”
“Don’t underestimate adults. Until just a few days ago, I was still an active Yamauchishu. I won’t be defeated easily.”
Midori stared intently at Seiken’s face. When he saw that he was serious, the sharpness in his eyes softened and his eyebrows drooped. “You talk to me like I’m a child, but I already had my coming-of-age ceremony.”
“The difference between adults and children is not just age. Adults don’t have to insist that they’re not children to others. You’re still a child and a cadet, so you should rely on your instructors, who are adults.” He thumped his chest.
The sun was rising, spreading warmth all around.
Translator's Notes
Shepherd’s purse (capsella bursa-pastoris) is a common, fast-growing weed known for its distinctive heart-shaped seed pods, resembling a shepherd’s pouch. It has a rosette of lobed leaves and small white flowers, and is used in herbal medicine for stopping bleeding, though it can have side effects in large amounts. It thrives in disturbed soil and can be managed through cultivation, mulching, or herbicides.
In Japanese, seiken means “pure and wise.”
No comments:
Post a Comment