Yatagarasu Series 9 - The Raven's Loyalty - Part 4: Midori

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 9: 

The Raven's Loyalty

Author: Abe Chisato

Part 4: Midori

Midori was given his own room at the Minami Tachibana city estate.

The Tomihara Store was a wealthy establishment in the city and Gold Sparrow Temple was praised as one of Yamauchi’s great temples, so Midori had thought himself accustomed to a certain level of luxury. Even so, he was not prepared for what he saw at the Minami Tachibana city estate.

Gold Sparrow Temple was a glittering edifice with gold-painted walls, but the Minami Tachibana city estate was more quietly ostentatious. Gems and precious metals were rarely on display, but all of the furniture was exquisitely made and scrupulously maintained. In the garden, there was not so much as a leaf out of place. Servants and dedicated gardeners roamed the estate, keeping everything in tip-top shape.

Meals were so extravagant that they struck Midori as wasteful. A house servant brought all of them directly to Midori’s suite. Perfectly fitted clothing in subdued colors was brought in for him to wear. The Minami Tachibana family took care of him in every way: food, water, and shelter were the bare minimum of what they offered.

Midori was used to wealth, but he was not used to having it lavished on him. Before he could get used to the new state of affairs, the first of several instructors arrived. The man would be helping him train so that he could enroll in the Keisōin.

Studying was a pleasant endeavor. Midori was gratified by the praise of his academic instructors. He was quick to learn his written subjects and was given plenty of interesting books to read. He was grateful that his time at the temple hadn’t been entirely wasted, though his instructors seemed more impressed by his answers to military strategy questions than they were by his prodigious knowledge of classical literature and prayers.

Midori’s academic instructors uniformly told him that he was among the best cadets they’d ever taught. Their praise delighted Midori, who studied harder than ever.

He struggled more with physical training, naturally. He’d never picked up a sword or a bow before, and in six months he would have to spar against people who’d been training with weapons since they could walk. The skin of his hands peeled and bled. After each session he could barely stay upright. He ended up on his knees in the dojo more often than not. Compared to the abuse he’d suffered, though, the training felt easy. It was so much easier to bear suffering when there was a good reason for it.

Kimichika, Lord Yasuchika’s younger son, also benefited from the presence of the instructors. They’d originally been summoned for his sake; Midori was just a fortunate secondary recipient of their expertise. Kimichika was two years younger than Midori, but he was already taller. He’d been named Lord Yasuchika’s heir despite the fact that his older brother Michichika was still alive. He was mature for his age and carried himself like a proper nobleman at all times. Unlike the temple attendants Midori had spent so much time with, Kimichika was always calm and composed. He rarely showed emotion at all. His face was like his father’s in the sense that it was difficult to tell what either one of them was thinking at any given moment.

Midori and Kimichika sometimes shared lessons, but never as equals. They were both very aware that Midori had come here to receive training to become his brother’s attendant at the Keisōin. They’d never spoken familiarly to one another, and Midori assumed that they never would.

But once—only once—Kimichika sought out Midori in his room.

Midori was preoccupied with copying out poems and prose passages on scrap paper at the time.

Midori was generally good at classroom learning, but he still struggled to write well. The bad habits he had picked up by imitating what he saw had never left him, and his kanji characters remained stubbornly ugly no matter how hard he tried to improve them.

Kimichika spotted him struggling from the corridor and came in uninvited. “Your stroke order is wrong,” he said.

Midori thought he was being sarcastic. He wasn’t.

Kimichika stood beside him, picked up a brush, and then wrote the same sentence on a blank piece of scrap paper. His brushwork was confident and unhesitating. The characters he produced were as beautiful as the model kanji characters drawn in a writing instruction book.

Midori didn’t feel crushed by the comparison—their circumstances were too different for that—but he noticed it. Kimichika had been learning how to write properly for his entire life, but Midori had never really learned the correct way to draw kanji characters. Kimichika had probably demonstrated his skill out of simple kindness, and it was certainly helpful, so Midori thanked him.

“Thank you very much for showing me this, young master.”

“Of course,” Kimichika said. “How are your preparations for the Keisōin coming along?”

“Everything is progressing smoothly thanks to Lord Yasuchika’s efforts.”

Midori was practically certain that he was qualified to enroll in the Keisōin now, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up with the other cadets. He would be serving as Michichika’s personal attendant while completing his coursework, which meant he would have even less free time than the other cadets. If he failed, all his efforts would come to nothing. He wanted to learn as much as he could while he still had the benefit of excellent instructors.

Kimichika frowned slightly. “Value your life. If it’s a choice between killing or being killed, choose the former.”

Midori blinked. “Young master?”

“If something happens to Michichika, neither Father nor I will blame you. I don’t know how much Father has told you, but go to the Keisōin prepared for that possibility. As long as you come back safely, we can handle everything else.”

Kimichika left without saying another word.

Midori stared after him. What on earth is waiting for me at the Keisōin? he thought.

He knew almost nothing about Michichika, the person he’d been brought here to serve. Michichika hadn’t come home during the Keisōin’s long breaks. No one in the Minami Tachibana household spoke about him while Midori was in earshot. Midori had assumed that he could manage Michichika, but there was something ominous about the unknown. He shuddered and then returned to his writing practice.

***

The Keisōin had been founded as a temple at least four hundred years ago. Over time, the temple had changed to a military academy with open enrollment. Any Yatagarasu boy between the ages of fifteen and seventeen could apply for a place. Only those who passed the entrance exam were accepted into the academy. Attendance was expensive, so cadets either had wealthy families or were sponsored by noblemen.

It took three years of continuous study to become a Yamauchishu. At the end of each year, cadets had to pass a comprehensive examination, with the final year’s examination being the most difficult of all.

The three examinations were named for the three kinds of strength that the emperor who had created the academy referenced in his commencement speech:

“The foreign books say that you must learn of the unbending reed in the tempest, observe the evergreen tree standing strong in the heavy snow, and witness the great mountain in the storm.

“Understand the different kinds of strength of the reed, of the tree, and of the mountain.

“In times of peace, words of loyalty are empty; war tests oaths and few men prove true. Only troubled times reveal those who are truly loyal.

I shall confer on this place the name of Unbending Reed Temple. It shall be a place of learning for those whose loyalty is unquestionable.”

The emperor’s words on that day still guided the Keisōin’s curriculum. The three comprehensive examinations that cadets took at the end of each year were called the Trial of the Gale, the Trial of Frost, and the Trial of the Storm.

First-year cadets were called Seeds. Those who passed the Trial of the Gale at the end of the first year earned the title of Saplings. Saplings who passed the Trial of Frost became Trees. Only those who passed the Trial of the Storm became Yamauchishu.

In the past, selection criteria for cadets had been much stricter. In recent years, however, the recommendation of powerful nobles carried more weight than before.

Midori’s swordsmanship instructor explained all of this to him. Midori thought of Tsuyuwaka. Nobles who couldn’t rely on status alone to make their fortune must be coming to the Keisōin in greater numbers now. He wondered why Tsuyuwaka’s father hadn’t chosen that path for him. Becoming a Keisōin cadet seemed more honorable than being a priest’s personal attendant.

Midori also worried about his status. It was possible, even likely, that in the past he would never have been accepted into the Keisōin because of the circumstances of his birth. Fortunately, the Lord of Minami Tachibana’s wealth and power opened every locked door before him, and he passed the Keisōin’s entrance exam without trouble.

Getting into the Keisōin was only the first step. Midori had to remain there for three years and pass every trial to become a Yamauchishu. He was determined to succeed, even if he had to swallow every ounce of his pride. He expected to be treated poorly because he’d rarely been treated well since leaving the Valley.

Midori headed to the Keisōin for the start of classes when the cherry blossoms bloomed. He brought only a few possessions with him.

The day before the Keisōin’s opening ceremony, new cadets were expected to move into their dormitories and greet the senior cadets who would serve as their mentors for the coming year. Seeds and Saplings shared rooms; only Trees were given private rooms. Each Sapling was assigned two Seeds. Seeds received instruction and punishment from Saplings. When they became Saplings in turn, they instructed the Seeds assigned to them in similar ways.

Midori knew before his arrival at the Keisōin that he’d be sharing a room with Michichika and another first-year cadet. When he reached the front gates, he lined up with other new cadets to present his letters of recommendation and receive his room assignment. The other Seed assigned to Michichika’s room was a lower-ranked member of the Minami Asahatake family, which was an obscure branch of the Nanke family.

“I’m Mikiharu,” the Seed said. “You’re Midori, right?” Like Midori, Mikiharu had been briefed on his room assignment in advance.

“I am,” Midori said. “It’s nice to meet you, Mikiharu.”

Mikiharu visibly relaxed. “There’s no need to be so formal. We’re fellow cadets, after all.”

His words were magnanimous enough, but Midori felt like he was being condescending. He wasn’t about to complain about surface-level politeness, though, so he bowed.

Midori and Mikiharu went to their room to greet Michichika. When they reached their door, Midori knocked twice.

“Enter,” Michichika said, his voice muffled by the closed door.

The Minami Tachibana family was a powerful branch family of Nanke, one of the Four Families of Yamauchi. Michichika’s presence at the Keisōin was a scandal. No son of the Minami Tachibana family had ever deigned to enroll in the academy before. Like most powerful nobles, the scions of Minami Tachibana used the Shadow Rank system to select any position they wanted in the Imperial Court.

Michichika’s presence at the Keisōin was unprecedented, but his family and the Nanke family acted to limit the scandal as much as possible. Michichika’s seniors and his peers all had roommates that were attached to the Nanke family in some way. Michichika lived in the newest dormitory building in a large room furnished especially for him.

As the door opened and Midori got his first glance inside the room, he learned that the rumors about Michichika’s living conditions were not exaggerated. The dorm room was enormous and richly furnished. Michichika lived almost as well here as he would have at his family’s city estate.

Midori knelt formally in the corridor before the door. “I humbly request an audience with Sapling Michichika of the Minami Tachibana family. This year’s new Seeds have come to pay their respects. Might we be granted permission to enter?”

“Very well.” Michichika’s voice had already dropped; he had the voice of a man.

Mikiharu stepped into the room first and bowed. “I am Mikiharu, third son of the Minami Asahata family. From this day forward, I shall serve you. I beg for your forbearance, senior.”

“I am Midori, a cadet being sponsored by the Minami Tachibana family. I look forward to your instruction, Sapling Michichika.”

Midori bowed from one step behind Mikiharu.

Michichika took a seat on a low cushion in the room. “Raise your heads.”

They straightened up. Michichika sat cross-legged, waiting for them to come closer.

Midori’s first impression of Michichika was not favorable. He’d been prepared for almost anything, but Michichika’s intensity caused Midori to falter in his resolve. Michichika looked like fire given the shape of a Yatagarasu. Physically he resembled Kimichika strongly, but the fierceness of his eyes and the powerful way he carried himself gave him the aura of a walking disaster.

“Why have you come here?” Michichika asked. He was smiling slightly, but there was no amusement on his face. He was tall and broad and might be mistaken for an instructor and not a cadet. His eyes roved over Midori, appraising him—finding him unworthy. His irises shone like gold around black pupils. His attitude reminded Midori of a wild dog’s as it stalked prey through tall grass.

“Well?” Michichika asked when Midori and Mikiharu remained silent. “For what purpose have you come here?”

By rank, Mikiharu should answer first. Midori glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Mikiharu licked his lips nervously. “I am here because I wish to serve you, Lord Michichika,” he said, bowing again. “I hope to be of use to you.”

“I see. And you?”

Midori started to answer the same way Mikiharu had, but when Michichika’s eyes fixed on him, he stopped speaking. Something warned him not to lie. He had no idea why, but alarm shrilled under his skin. He must not prevaricate. Brutal honesty was the only thing Michichika would accept from him.

He had resolved never to say what he was about to say when he was still at Gold Sparrow Temple. “I want the status of a noble.” Midori looked down, cowed by the weight of Michichika’s attention.

Mikiharu blinked, surprised. He gave Midori an annoyed look, then smoothed his expression.

“I see.” Michichika nodded and showed no sign of irritation. He shifted slightly toward Mikiharu. “Well then, Mikiharu of the Minami Asahata family. You said that you intend to serve me. That means you’ll swear fealty to me, I assume?”

“Yes,” Mikiharu answered brightly.

“But the Keisōin trains those who will be loyal to the imperial family. Tomorrow at the opening ceremony, you will swear loyalty to the imperial family. A loyal servant cannot serve two masters. So where does your loyalty truly lie?”

Mikiharu stared blankly for a moment and then said, “If I become a Yamauchishu, I will serve the imperial family, of course. But I wouldn’t be here without the Minami Tachibana family’s kindness and generosity. I fully intend to repay your family in kind, Lord Michichika.”

Michichika’s eyes narrowed.

Midori shivered, though the day was warm.

“That’s not an answer,” Michichika snapped. He rose from his cushion without making a sound. Standing, he loomed over his junior cadets, casting a giant shadow.

“I asked where your true loyalty lies,” Michichika said. “You said you will serve the imperial family, and that you will serve the Minami Tachibana family as well. You also said that you would serve me—so which is it? A man cannot serve more than one master.”

Mikiharu’s shoulders shook as Michichika stepped closer to him. “Th-that is… I am loyal to you, Lord Michichika. I will serve you loyally to the best of my ability.”

“So when you swear loyalty to the imperial family tomorrow, you’ll be lying?” Michichika asked.

“No, that’s not what I meant!”

“More contradictions. It seems I cannot hold a conversation with you.” He waved Mikiharu away. “Go home. I’m done with you.”

“Go home?” Mikiharu went very still. His mouth worked soundlessly, creating excuses he was too terrified to utter.

“I cannot abide fools,” Michichika said. “You are an unpleasant person. The imperial family doesn’t deserve to receive your insincere oaths. And I won’t accept an oath of loyalty from someone who doesn’t even recognize his own dishonesty. If you wish to serve me, then leave the Keisōin at once.”

Mikiharu went pale.

Midori watched the exchange silently, barely daring to breathe. Mikiharu affected the airs of a noble, but he was only a lower noble. His family and Michichika’s were far from equal. If Mikiharu failed to gain Michichika’s favor, what would happen to him?

For whatever reason, Midori remembered Tsuyuwaka again. Midori hated Tsuyuwaka, but he also pitied him. His parents had given him over to slavery that slowly killed the mind and spirit. If he didn’t intervene, something similar might happen to Mikiharu.

Mikiharu clung desperately to the hem of Michichika’s robe. “Please! If I have offended you, I apologize. I am truly sorry. I really can serve you, Lord Michichika.”

Michichika snarled. “Enough. Be silent.”

“It’s true! I really can—”

“I told you to be silent.”

Mikiharu sailed past Midori as Michichika kicked him. He flew through the open door into the hallway and then rolled through the door that led to the garden outside. He landed violently, scattering pebbles. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t rise. He curled in on himself in the garden, gasping in pain.

Michichika had seriously injured Mikiharu with just one kick. Midori tried not to let his fear show on his face. This guy is bad news. I was warned, but I feel like I don’t know everything I should, he thought.

Michichika faced Midori calmly, like he hadn’t just kicked his roommate out the door. “You’re Midori, correct?”

“Yes.”

Michichika stared at him for what felt like hours. A cold sweat broke out on Midori’s forehead.

“You came to the Keisōin because you want a noble rank?”

“Yes.”

“Do you consider it disloyal to use me and the Keisōin for your own benefit?”

Midori knew that he must answer. Michichika wouldn’t accept silence as his response. He also couldn’t lie. He might be punished for telling the truth, but the punishment for lying would be far worse.

“I do believe it’s disloyal,” Midori said.

Michichika’s stern frown collapsed at the corners. “So you understand your position. And it doesn’t bother you?”

“As long as I do what I’m supposed to do, I see no problem. How I feel about what I’m doing hardly matters.”

“So your loyalty is meaningless? You intend to use me and the Keisōin for your own purposes? Do you think that my father and I will allow that? What do you think the Keisōin’s instructors will do if they find out your loyalty is worthless?”

“With respect, your father used me first. I agreed to be used. Now all you need to do is agree to use me. I see no issue. We’ll use each other, and hopefully we’ll benefit one another. That’s all.”

Midori felt like he was being fed a rope that he would eventually use to hang himself, but he kept speaking and he forced himself to be honest. If he lied, Michichika would know, and he would end up just like Mikiharu.

Michichika nodded in satisfaction. “I see. You’ve reasoned everything out for yourself.” He paused, then asked, “Why do you want noble status?”

“I was born and raised in poverty. Everyone looks down on me. If I become a noble, I can put a stop to that.”

“Oh?” Michichika bent down. His expression was curious now and not hostile. “That perspective never occurred to me. You value your own honor and pride above all else.” He nodded several times, saying “I see, I see.” Then he straightened up and clapped his hands.

“All right. I like you, Midori. Will you offer me your token, purely nominal loyalty?” he asked, suppressing laughter.

Mikiharu groaned from the garden, his voice drowned out by Michichika’s chuckling.

***

Mikiharu had broken ribs, so he was sent straight home.

While running errands for Michichika, Midori found out more about him from other Keisōin cadets. In the year since Michichika had come here, he had driven many potential roommates away. A senior who had shared his room had gone home within a month. Another roommate had coughed up blood; they’d been sent home to recover and had never returned.

Midori had seen what Michichika was capable of, so learning all of this didn’t surprise him. A few of Michichika’s peers had dropped out of the Keisōin because they were terrified of him. His arrogance was well-known. A senior cadet who had tried to teach Michichika a lesson with several of his friends was beaten bloody and sent home. Michichika had even beaten up an assistant instructor after an argument. When bandits had attacked the Keisōin, Michichika had driven them off single-handedly.

Michichika was the most skilled cadet of his year two years running. His practical skills were unmatched, and he had no equal in his academic subjects. He was an unrivaled genius. Many of his instructors had no idea what to do with him. Michichika reigned over the Keisōin like he owned it. Everyone lived in fear of incurring his displeasure.

“You’re his new roommate, right?” one of the administrators asked Midori after Midori had given him some of Michichika’s correspondence. “You’re in danger. Be very, very careful.”

Midori remembered Kimichika’s warning. He couldn’t say he’d come here entirely unprepared, but Michichika was unique in his experience. He chuckled at the administrator’s concern and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Life at the Keisōin matched Midori’s expectations. He went to his classes, studied, and did homework. Michichika did the same. In fact, he was a model cadet and roommate. Midori had spent his first few days terrified of what Michichika would command him to do, but Michichika never asked him for anything unreasonable. He barely bothered him at all. He didn’t subject Midori to unreasonable abuse or corporal punishment.

Everything demanded of Midori fell within the normal duties of a servant attending upon a noble. He brought in meals and helped with baths and laundry. These duties were easier than the ones he’d performed as a temple attendant.

As far as coursework went, Midori struggled in his practical subjects, as expected. He was only middling at swordsmanship. He practiced as much as he could and always woke up sore and aching. He did exceptionally well in his academic subjects, however, so much so that only Michichika got better grades than he did. He was assigned mountains of homework every night, but he didn’t have much trouble keeping up. Other cadets worked harder than Midori did and had less to show for it.

Sometimes Michichika unbalanced Midori’s internal equilibrium with questions, just like he’d done on the first day they met.

“What do you think honor is?”

“You said you were born in poverty. What does that mean?”

“What does pride mean to you, specifically? What is it worth?”

Michichika’s reactions could be unpredictable. Midori focused on answering honestly. He had no desire to end up like Mikiharu. He thought that Michichika asked him such questions out of simple curiosity. He and Michichika had led very different lives, so that curiosity made sense. Michichika listened to his answers intently and thought them over, sometimes for days, before he commented on what Midori had said. Midori felt like Michichika knew much more about him than he knew about Michichika, but he tried not to let that bother him.

Maybe I can do this, Midori thought as the days passed.

A month after Midori’s arrival at the Keisōin, the wind shifted, and everything changed.

***

“What would you have to be offered before you would consider trying to kill me?” Michichika asked Midori one day before they went to sleep.

Midori had never been asked such an unusual question before. He suppressed a yawn. “What did you just ask?”

“I asked what you would require in exchange for killing me.”

What a disturbing question.

“No matter what I was offered, I would refuse to kill you,” Midori said. “There are some things I would never do for wealth or status, and that’s one of them.”

“Ah. As I thought, you haven’t been ordered to do anything by my father.” He nodded to himself.

Midori had no idea what Michichika meant. “Your father gave me no specific commands. I was sent here to be your attendant, that’s all.”

“I believe you. He didn’t order you to kill me.”

Midori was briefly speechless. Why on earth would Lord Yasuchika command his son’s death? Then he remembered Kimichika’s warning again.

“Value your life. If it’s a choice between killing or being killed, choose the former. If something happens to Michichika, neither Father nor I will blame you. I don’t know how much Father has told you, but go to the Keisōin prepared for that possibility. As long as you come back safely, we can handle everything else.”

Michichika snorted. “So you didn’t get any orders, but someone hinted at the possibility to you, right? That I might be killed.”

Midori couldn’t lie to Michichika. Michichika could see right through him. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to answer.

“Your predecessor wasn’t like you,” Michichika said. “He received very specific instructions from my father.”

“Who was my predecessor?” Midori asked. “Another noble?” The one who’d coughed up blood and gone home? Midori remembered the rumors, but he didn’t ask Michichika about that person specifically.

“He’s dead,” Michichika said casually.

Midori’s mind went blank. “Dead? I heard he returned to his birth family,” he said.

“He died in front of me; I remember. He poisoned my evening meal. All I did was make him eat the same food. He had no tolerance for the poison. He foamed at the mouth and keeled over. I didn’t care to dispose of the body, so I suppose the academy took care of it. People think that he just went home, and I don’t care enough about rumors to put the truth out there.”

Michichika paused, then tapped his chin. “Come to think of it, there are a lot of people like your predecessor, especially here. One night when I was asleep, three thieves broke in and threatened me with swords. The other day, one of the assistant instructors targeted my neck during a mock battle. I aimed for the same place on him, and he looked shocked. Like he couldn’t believe I would dare to attack him seriously.” He laughed. “If you’re not prepared to die, you shouldn’t try to kill other people. That’s what I think.”

Midori felt cold all over. It was bad enough to learn that Lord Yasuchika had ordered Michichika’s death in the past. Having Michichika speak of it in such a detached way was almost equally disturbing. People were dead because of the conflict between Michichika and his father.

“My father must have given up on killing me, since he decided to send a watchdog instead.” Michichika surveyed Midori critically. “From my perspective, having a watchdog is more convenient. I know what motivates you. I think the time is right.”

“For what?” Midori asked. He couldn’t run now. Michichika would only follow him, and then they’d be having his conversation out in the open, where anyone could overhear.

“Hamidori.”

Midori tensed and sprang to his feet, setting his shoulders.

Michichika stared at him, eyes wide. “I heard that your father gave you the same name as your mother, who was a courtesan. He used you for his pleasure in place of your mother, didn’t he?”

Midori sneered at him before he could stop himself.

Michichika grinned mischievously like a little child. “Have I made you angry now? Marvelous.”

Goosebumps stood up on Midori’s arms as his fingers clenched and unclenched. Michichika was not a safe target for his anger. He dropped his gaze to the floor and stilled his hands, willing himself to calm down.

“What’s wrong, Hamidori? I thought you valued honor. You won’t forgive me for impugning your reputation, surely? Aren’t you mad at me?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie. Answer me honestly.” Michichika slapped him hard.

Midori stumbled backward into the wall. All the breath left his lungs as he fell to the floor. Nausea hit him before pain did. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

“Tell the truth, Hamidori. You’re angry at me, aren’t you?”

Midori tried to answer him, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Michichika slapped him again. This time, Midori sprawled face down on the floor and couldn’t move. He coughed and shuddered, certain that he would be killed if Michichika kept beating him like this.

“Yes,” Midori gasped. “Yes. I’m angry.”

“I see.” Michichika muttered under his breath.

Midori got a sinking feeling in his gut. Was Michichika planning to goad Midori into striking him first so that he could kill Midori without suffering any consequences?

“You can’t tolerate injustice, right? You must be mortified at being treated like this.”

“No.”

“You want to kill me, don’t you?”

The question stunned Midori briefly. He didn’t really want to kill Michichika. What he wanted was to have nothing to do with him for the rest of his life. Words to that effect made their way out of his mouth without his conscious permission. He was too shocked and injured to dissemble.

“What was that?”

“No,” Midori gritted out.

Michichika clicked his tongue, irritated. Then he grabbed a fistful of Midori’s hair and started walking.

Midori groaned in pain as he was dragged across the floor. “Stop!”

Michichika said nothing.

Midori had never felt so weak and helpless in his life. He had been much abused—and abused unjustly, punished for crimes he’d never committed. In the past, his anger had bolstered him, making him stronger and more resilient. Michichika’s overwhelming violence made his tenacity all but useless.

Michichika flung Midori down. He looked Midori up and down, yawning from boredom.

Midori glared up at him with anger burning in his eyes and along his limbs. He might be weak, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“Well? Do you feel like killing me now?” Michichika asked.

“No!”

“Stubborn brat.” Michichika reached for him again to drag him who knew where.

Damn it, Midori thought as he closed his eyes. There’s no escape.

***

After that, Michichika tormented Midori regularly in the evenings. He always asked the same questions, and Midori always gave him the same answers.

“Are you angry?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to kill me?”

“No.”

“After all this, why do you endure? What do you gain by this?”

If you want to die, then die. Don’t drag me into it. That was what Midori wanted to say, but he never said it. Michichika was a young man in the prime of his life; Midori doubted that Michichika had ever wanted to die. Midori assumed that bullying others was like entertainment to Michichika. Or maybe he was looking for an excuse to kill Midori.

Midori had no idea what Michichika was really thinking, but Midori knew that Michichika was trying to make him angry enough to lash out.

“I know you want to kill me,” Michichika said. “It’s written all over your face! Why do you keep lying to me?”

“I’m not lying.”

“You obviously are,” Michichika said. “Come, now. You bit a noble’s finger off. You’re no stranger to violence. My father must want me dead. If you kill me, he’ll reward you.”

Midori sighed inwardly. Even if Lord Yasuchika had commanded him to kill Michichika—and he hadn’t—Midori wouldn’t have agreed to carry out such a command. He wasn’t an unthinking tool who only did what he was told.

“You’ll be free to earn your noble rank without interference with me gone,” Michichika said. “My death would benefit you in a host of ways. We’re together constantly, so you know my weaknesses. You could kill me easily, couldn’t you? So do it. Just kill me. I know you want to.”

Some of what Michichika said resonated with Midori. A dead Michichika wouldn’t be a bully or a nuisance. He’d entertained the idea of killing Michichika countless times, but he knew that he would never act on that impulse.

There were three reasons why Midori would never kill Michichika.

The first was that Midori didn’t want to kill anyone. Murder should always be a last resort. Michichika showed no particular aversion to killing, so his sense of morality was clearly abnormal.

Sometimes Michichika said things about killing that troubled Midori. “Only the strong-willed can kill with impunity”—that was something Michichika said fairly often. Midori didn’t contradict him when he said it even though he knew that Michichika was wrong. No one could kill with impunity. There were always consequences, even for rich nobles.

The second reason was that even if he decided to try to kill Michichika, he would not succeed. Killing Michichika was impossible. Many people had already tried to kill him without success. Michichika was too paranoid to be caught off-guard and too strong to be killed in an open confrontation. If Midori ever made a sincere attempt on Michichika’s life, he would only end up dead.

The third reason was that Michichika wanted Midori to try to kill him, and Midori wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of conforming to his wishes.

Midori had sworn to endure any hardship to become a Yamauchishu. What Michichika was doing to him now fell within the scope of that oath. Midori was suffering now for the sake of a better future. He was used to denying spoiled and unreasonable nobles what they wanted, so there was something vaguely familiar and comforting about Michichika’s daily beatings. He’d suffered like this as a temple attendant, too—but on the inside, not physically.

The first night that Michichika had beaten him had rattled Midori, but his essential resilience remained intact. Sometimes he wondered if being tenacious was a positive or a negative trait. His refusal to give in to what Michichika wanted inspired his senior cadet to create increasingly painful ways to make him suffer.

Michichika smashed the inkstone Midori had been given before becoming a temple attendant before his eyes and forced him to eat the broken pieces.

Midori wept then, not because his will was broken but because he was in pain. The eye he’d injured long ago throbbed constantly these days because of Michichika’s frequent beatings. Resting made the pain subside for a little while, but it always returned and reminded him of his past mistakes.

No one at the Keisōin could help Midori. Michichika was unstoppable. Even instructors were terrified of him.

Midori spent a lot of time in the infirmary during the day. Several of the physicians there encouraged him to drop out for his own safety. Midori scoffed at them. Even if he dropped out, there’d be no escape from Michichika. Running now might buy him time, but it wouldn’t change the outcome.

Michichika was killing Midori slowly, and Midori had no idea how to stop it from happening. He was being murdered in slow motion before witnesses, and no one lifted a finger to help him. They were too afraid.

I won’t run. Midori was many things, but he’d never been a coward. He’d become a Yamauchishu if it killed him. No one and nothing would prevent him from fulfilling his oath.

***

One day, Midori awoke before dawn. Michichika was still asleep. Midori sneaked past him on tiptoes so that he could tend to his wounds in peace. Michichika had no tolerance for watching him treat himself. Midori hid a few common medicines behind the loose stone of a well close to the dorm room.

Midori reached the well and drew up a bucket, pouring blissfully cool water over his head. It was a pleasant morning, so he didn’t bother to dry himself with the towels stacked near the well. He cursed Michichika as he washed his wounds.

“Did something happen?” Instructor Seiken asked, his voice loud in the surrounding stillness.

Midori had met the new instructor the previous evening. His dignified appearance matched his rather grandiose name. Midori guessed that he was a nobleman’s son, though not a first- or second-born one. He looked young enough to be a cadet. Midori remembered that he’d been sent here by the Minami Tachibana family.

Another watchdog, Midori grumbled internally. How many people were here simply because Michichika existed?

Perhaps if Midori could shift Michichika’s attention to Instructor Seiken, Michichika would have less time to beat him in the evenings. It might be worth a try, but he doubted Instructor Seiken was capable of helping him in any way. The general impression he got from the man was that he was basically useless, much like the rest of the Keisōin instructors.

Instructor Seiken seemed genuinely appalled by the state of Midori’s face.

Midori braced himself for pointless sympathy and platitudes and waited.

But Instructor Seiken offered no sympathy or advice. He wasn’t afraid of Michichika at all, which was novel in Midori’s experience. The other instructors avoided Michichika as much as possible and never reprimanded him, but Instructor Seiken was different. He lectured Michichika for his faults, gave him detention and increasingly severe punishments meant to correct his behavior.

“You say you want to enjoy life as a cadet, yet you are not behaving like a Keisōin cadet. You are treating your fellow cadets like your personal attendants. This is not appropriate. The other cadets are not here to satisfy your childish whims.”

Instructor Seiken also reassigned Midori to a new dorm room. When Michichika learned this and demanded an explanation, Instructor Seiken said, “It is none of your concern.”

“Of course it is,” Michichika protested. “He was sent here by my father to serve as my personal attendant.”

Instructor Seiken pointed rudely at him. “That is exactly the problem. You and your father believe that you own this place. By letting your father control who you associate with, you remained shackled to his power and his expectations. If that’s what you want, you might as well return home. The purpose of the Keisōin is to learn. That includes learning the perspectives of people whose lives are not the same as yours. I have told you this before, I believe.”

Michichika nodded. “I have learned from others, Instructor Seiken.”

“Have you?” Instructor Seiken raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe that those around you are sincere while speaking to you? You terrify them. Your family’s power terrifies them. You have no peers—no one treats you as an equal. You have never had a peer, I think. You take your place in life for granted and assume that no one is smarter or more powerful or more skilled than you. Unless you make a deliberate effort to set your sense of superiority aside, no one you meet will ever be honest with you. They will not dare. To save their own skins, they will not dare. If you wish to understand others, you must make the effort to make yourself approachable.”

Michichika tilted his head, puzzled.

“I have heard you complain that the Keisōin is boring,” Instructor Seiken said. “That’s your fault. The academy is not intrinsically boring. Your life bores you because of how you comport yourself.”

There were witnesses to this conversation now; a few brave cadets had come closer to eavesdrop. Several cadets exchanged frightened glances. They were certain that Michichika would fly into a rage at any moment.

Michichika remained calm. He considered what Instructor Seiken had said and withdrew without harming anyone. He no longer bullied Midori and started attending to his own meals and laundry. People who knew his reputation were shocked to see him in the cafeteria at mealtimes. He ate and then washed his cutlery like every other cadet.

Instructor Seiken didn’t praise Michichika for acting like a normal cadet. Why should he? Michichika should have been acting that way from the start.

Midori was—at least temporarily—safe from Michichika’s wrath thanks to Instructor Seiken. He lived in a private room and had a lot more time to study and train.

Unfortunately, Michichika didn’t completely ignore Midori. Sometimes he caught him unawares and administered one of his usual beatings. When Instructor Seiken learned of this, he decided to intervene once more.

Instructor Seiken contacted the Minami Tachibana family and obtained a written note from Lord Yasuchika that excused Midori from serving Michichika at the Keisōin.

“But I became a cadet specifically to serve Michichika,” Midori said after he read the note. “What changed?” He was more bewildered than happy. How had Seiken accomplished this?

For his part, Instructor Seiken didn’t seem to think he’d done anything remarkable. He shrugged. “Most cadets don’t have personal attendants. I can’t think of a single other cadet here who does, actually. I wasn’t raised as a noble, and I’m supposed to be a fair and impartial instructor. You and Michichika are equals within these walls, socially if in no other way. So study hard and make the most of this opportunity.”

Midori understood that Instructor Seiken was going out of his way to help him, but the had no idea why. No one had tried to help him without some ulterior motive since he’d left the Valley.

Midori decided to test Instructor Seiken’s honesty by visiting his rooms one night, because the only way to be sure of something uncertain was to test it.

When Midori arrived at Instructor Seiken’s room, the door was open. Instructor Seiken wasn’t there.

Midori looked around. “How careless,” he muttered. “Something might get stolen!”

“If there’s something you want, feel free to take it,” Instructor Seiken said.

Midori jumped.

Instructor Seiken sat in a shadowy corner, sipping tea out of a porcelain cup. His room was lined with bookshelves full of finely bound books, tins of tea and bags full of sweets. Instructor Seiken’s family was not noble, but they were wealthy; Midori knew that his parents owned a prosperous shop in Yamauchi’s capital city.

Midori found Instructor Seiken’s open-handedness suspicious. Most of the wealthy people he’d met were tight-fisted. They always wanted something in exchange for their generosity.

“Don’t you worry that others will take something precious from you?” Midori asked.

Instructor Seiken smiled. “Certainly. But there’s nothing irreplaceable in this room. The things I truly value are far more important than the creature comforts gathered in here.”

Midori shrugged and then sat down for tea. He started visiting Instructor Seiken a few times a week after that to sample the instructor’s luxuries. At first he refused to enter when Seiken was present, not wanting to drive the instructor out of his rooms. Instructor Seiken told him not to concern himself about that. If Midori visited and didn’t want to talk, Instructor Seiken would sit down at his writing desk and grade papers in silence.

When Midori brought his assignments and asked about things he didn’t understand, Seiken answered him with thoughtful care. None of Midori’s questions confused him. Midori guessed that Seiken had been an exceptional cadet.

“Would you like to come out with me on the next day off?” Instructor Seiken asked one day.

Midori hesitated before saying yes. Why should he go with an instructor anywhere? But he was curious about the invitation, and eventually he accepted it.

Instructor Seiken took Midori to a military strategy study group populated by senior researchers of the Keisōin, members of the Yamauchishu and the Aerial Army of Heaven, and retired generals. The study group discussed military history and conducted training exercises to test new strategies. No Keisōin cadet had ever participated in these sessions before, but Midori wasn’t made to feel unwelcome. Instructor Seiken vouched for Midori based on his grades, and everyone accepted him.

The chance to bounce ideas off of Yamauchi’s best military minds was like a dream come true for Midori. He went with Instructor Seiken on every day off and looked forward to each new meeting of the study group.

Midori didn’t think about it at the time, but Instructor Seiken had likely brought him along to the study group to keep him away from Michichika, who could have easily hunted him down on a day off. Michichika did seek out Midori sometimes; he even visited Instructor Seiken’s room in the evenings to make sure Midori wasn’t there.

Michichika outwardly tried to conduct himself as an ordinary Keisōin cadet, but he hadn’t changed who he was on the inside. People were still terrified of him, and he used Midori as a punching bag as often as he could.

One night, Midori heard Michichika ask through the door, “Is Midori in there?”

Midori tensed and looked up from his homework. He was in Instructor Seiken’s room as usual, and Instructor Seiken was present. He mutely asked the instructor for help.

Instructor Seiken smiled at him and went to open the door. “Midori is inside doing his homework,” Seiken said calmly.

Midori couldn’t believe his ears. Why was Instructor Seiken selling him out? Had he done something wrong?

“If you’re going to use the room to do homework, you may come in as well. If there’s anything you don’t understand, I will do my best to assist you.”

Michichika snorted. “I don’t need you to help me with my homework.” He spun on his heel and went away.

***

Instructor Seiken was fair-minded. He never gave any cadet special treatment, much though Midori felt like he was being favored at times. What he offered to Midori, he offered to others, including Michichika.

One evening, Instructor Seiken came upon Michichika and Midori while Michichika was beating up Midori again. He immediately stepped between them and asked, “Why are you hitting him, Michichika?”

“Because he wouldn’t do as I said.”

“Do you always hit people who don’t do as you say?” Seiken’s eyebrows drew together. “Has no one ever told you that such behavior is wrong?”

“My feather mother told me not to treat people like this, but her reasoning made no sense,” Michichika said.

“What did she say?”

“She said that hitting someone won’t make them listen. On the contrary, it only provokes resentment. My mother said the same thing.”

“And you think they were wrong to say so? Where is your proof?”

Michichika answered Seiken and Seiken answered Michichika politely in return. Midori stood there watching them argue for what felt like a very long time.

Instructor Seiken noticed Midori standing silently in the hallway and sent him back to his room. He and Michichika kept talking as Midori walked away.

The next morning on the way to training, Midori nearly screamed when he found Michichika and Instructor Seiken standing in the exact same place he’d left them. They were still talking, but they were no longer arguing. They should have been discussing why hitting people without a reason was unacceptable, but Instructor Seiken was explaining the best way to bake sticky barley buns.

How had the topic of conversation changed so much? Midori had no idea. Michichika looked equally confused. Instructor Seiken was animated and smiling, continuing his explanation with specific gestures to underline the most important steps in the creation of barley buns.

When Instructor Seiken saw Midori, he waved and stopped speaking for a few moments.

Michichika shuddered. “He answers all my questions, so I can’t make him be quiet. Once he starts talking, he never stops.”

Instructor Seiken beamed with pride.

Michichika sighed. “I’ll stop hitting people in front of you. Fair?” he asked.

Instructor Seiken’s smile collapsed at the corners. “That’s not a satisfactory response,” he said. “You should not hit others who disagree with you simply as a matter of principle. If all you’ve learned is to be wary of my reaction to your violence, then your overall behavior pattern will not change.”

Michichika nodded firmly. “Let’s just say that I haven’t decided to fundamentally change my behavior yet. I don’t mind talking to you most of the time, though. So let’s talk again, and maybe you can change my mind.”

Instructor Seiken smiled again. He looked like he was accepting a challenge. He was about to say more, but Michichika bowed and excused himself before the instructor could command him to stay.

Midori watched him go and wondered why Michichika never met Instructor Seiken’s opposition with violence. He’d beaten up other instructors, so why not Instructor Seiken? Michichika made no sense to him.

Later that day while Midori was studying in Instructor Seiken’s room, he asked the instructor if he had some kind of trick for dealing with Michichika.

Instructor Seiken frowned slightly. “I wouldn’t call it a trick, exactly,” he said. “I don’t think Michichika wants to respond with violence, at least not most of the time. I think he was born with a desire to persuade, not threaten.”

“What makes you say that? He threatens plenty of people on a daily basis.”

“Michichika resorts to violence in response to confusion,” Instructor Seiken said. “When he doesn’t understand a person or a thing, he attacks it to eliminate what he sees as a threat. If he understands, he doesn’t attack, because he isn’t afraid of people and things that he understands. That’s also why he hates lies. Attempts to obscure the truth are seen as threats as well. At his father’s estate, he learned that beating people enforces compliance when words don’t work, but compliance isn’t what he actually wants. He likes figuring things out with words more than he enjoys lashing out with violence. If he learns how to understand what confuses him using words, he’ll stop using violence. Violence is a sub-optimal method, and he knows it. He’s not dumb. He knows that attacking others with violence makes him hated. He doesn’t care about being hated the way you or I might care, but he knows that being hated is not advantageous to him.

“In short, Michichika doesn’t resort to violence because he enjoys it for its own sake. He chooses violence when he sees no other option to get what he wants.”

Midori grimaced. “So he beats me up because he doesn’t understand me? Are you saying that it’s my fault?”

“Of course not,” Instructor Seiken said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Michichika’s failure to understand you is not because you’ve failed to answer his questions or anything like that. Even he knows that he’s not going to understand you better using violence, I think.”

“Then why does he attack me?”

“He’s a spoiled nobleman’s son, and he’s frustrated.”

“By what? Me? What is it about me that frustrates him so much?”

Instructor Seiken rubbed his chin, his eyes fixed on some distant place out the window. “He is using you to try to figure out something he doesn’t know,” he said slowly. “When I asked him about you directly, he said he wanted to find your breaking point. What could he do that would make you want to murder him?”

“Being killed because of his curiosity is the last thing I need,” Midori said. “Besides, I already want to kill him. I choose not to for my own reasons, but I’m ready to kill that bastard at any time.”

Would Midori kill Michichika to save his own life? Maybe. But he’d still prefer not to.

Instructor Seiken nodded gravely. “Exactly. That’s probably not his true motive. He’s extremely rational, believe it or not. If we could figure out what he really wants, I think he wouldn’t terrorize other people anymore.”

“Him terrorizing people is an understatement. No one likes him, and everyone’s afraid of him. He’s killed people, including my predecessor.”

Instructor Seiken frowned. “Indeed, there has already been at least one death. But you’re still alive, and shall remain alive.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The attendant who died tried to kill him. You have not, and will not. Michichika does not care about intent, only action. If you try to kill him, he will kill you. If you don’t, he may beat you, but he will let you live.”

Midori opened his mouth to contradict Instructor Seiken, but he didn’t think the man was wrong. Some instinct had warned Midori not to lie to Michichika from the start. “That’s true,” he said reluctantly.

It was also horrible. Michichika was actively trying to goad the people around him into killing him. Why? He didn’t have a death wish, or at least it didn’t seem like he did. Did he enjoy killing so much that he was deliberately creating a line of people he could kill without being punished for it?

***

Living in a separate room from Michichika allowed Midori to focus on his studies like a normal cadet. He made friends with a new roommate and started socializing with others now that he wasn’t constantly nursing his injuries.

Compared to his fellow cadets, Midori had few friends and social connections, but he didn’t have any enemies, either, aside (maybe) from Michichika. No one froze him out or refused to interact with him.

Several cadets expressed concern for Midori when he talked to them.

“You were covered in bruises and looked like you were in bad shape. I was really worried about you.”

“I heard you were being bullied by your senior roommate. That must have been rough.”

“You’re not just any cadet, right? You must have some connections since you got away from Michichika.”

“Michichika is scary as hell.”

Some of his peers were commoners who worried about Midori’s wellbeing. Others had entered the Keisōin on a noble’s recommendation and understood his situation well enough to show sympathy. No one was reckless enough to approach when Michichika’s eyes were on him, and his new friends were mostly of the fair-weather variety. Even so, Midori felt less alone with superficially friendly cadets around him. He felt like he was living out scenes from someone else’s life. For the first time, he benefited from the illusion of privilege.

Midori suspected that Instructor Seiken would be quite pleased to hear that he was making friends at the Keisōin. He lectured often about gaining an understanding of different perspectives from other cadets. Midori deliberately refrained from mentioning his new friends, not because he didn’t want Instructor Seiken to be pleased, but because he felt incredibly awkward about his situation. Some part of him still struggled to believe that he belonged in a place like this.

Instructor Seiken noticed that Midori was spending more time with the other cadets without needing to be told. He encouraged Midori to make as many friends as he could. He even sent Midori off to different study groups with offerings of tea and sweets so that he’d be guaranteed a welcome.

The more time Midori spent with his peers, the more time Michichika spent with Instructor Seiken. Michichika never went out of his way to intrude when Midori was with someone else, so Midori went weeks at a time without getting beaten up.

Concerned that favoring any one person would make that person Michichika’s next target, Midori deliberately kept his relationships shallow. This strategy worked well until the long break after the first set of exams that year. Midori was fairly popular, or at least well-known, so he was invited to Yamauchi’s capital city by several senior cadets.

Midori accepted the invitation, of course. He’d never gone to the city’s pleasure district before and he was curious about what it was like.

It was early autumn. Lanterns shaped like red leaves lined the streets of the pleasure district. Golden ornaments and decorations shone in the windows. The road rose sharply under his feet, becoming stone stairs. Brightly lit shops and brothels stood on both sides of the stairs. Courtesans danced on outdoor stages, drawing crowds of men.

Midori’s classmates were excited, shouting with delight as courtesans waved their fans at them.

Midori stood alone on the street, rooted to the spot. There was nothing outwardly strange about him being here. Keisōin cadets visited the city’s pleasure district all the time. But he wasn’t only here as a Keisōin cadet, was he? His mother had been a courtesan. She had lived here once.

The courtesans were like flowers in human form, their perfume drifting through the air. The melodious music drifting to him from the stages agitated Midori. He should not be here. This was wrong. He felt like he was in a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from.

Courtesans had raised Midori in the Valley. He remembered how the older women had been brought to tears by rude or violent clients. Midori could never hire a courtesan. He knew too much about what their lives were like.

Midori walked at the very back of the group of Keisōin cadets, nauseated and uneasy.

A courtesan on the stage smiled in his direction. Their eyes met.

A shock ran through Midori; he looked away. The first face that came to mind was not the courtesan’s, but Michichika’s.

I can’t possibly enjoy myself here, Midori thought. He felt like he was drunk, though he hadn’t consumed any alcohol. He lacked the courage to slip away from his companions, who would surely demand an explanation from him.

Midori walked toward the brothel behind his fellow cadets.

“The young gentlemen from the Keisōin have arrived!”

“Welcome, welcome!”

“The ladies are waiting for you inside. Please come in.”

The proprietor, the manager, and several workers all came out together to greet the cadets. Certain brothels gave Keisōin cadets special treatment and would entertain them for almost no pay. Midori had heard that they did this to gain the favor of future Yamauchishu.

Upstairs, a large hall had been prepared for a banquet. A tray had been set out for each cadet. Trees sat in elevated seats. Saplings sat on low cushions and Seeds sat on flat rice mats.

Midori ended up seated on a rice mat near the door that led outside.

Shamisen and biwa players entered the banquet hall, each playing instruments that looked like works of art.

“Young masters, we are so happy to see you all!” a musician said with a shy grin.

“You must be exhausted after so much studying,” another musician said.

The cadets exchanged smiles. A few invited the musicians to sit beside them.

“The exam could have been twice as difficult and I wouldn’t care. I knew I’d get a chance to see you after no matter what,” one shameless cadet said.

“You’re as beautiful as ever,” another cadet said to a courtesan whose name he knew.

Midori’s Sapling roommate chose a courtesan from among those in the hall. Most of the Seeds were still sitting on their own, however. Like Midori, many of them had never been to the pleasure district before.

“May I sit next to you?” a young courtesan asked.

Before he realized what he was doing, Midori invited the courtesan to share his tray. “Uh… sure. Please take a seat, miss.”

The girl looked to be about his age. She wore orange robes decorated with silver embroidery. The style didn’t suit her; the color made her look too pale and the cut obscured her figure completely. Her face was round, which made her look very young—too young to be in a place like this.

It had been five years since Midori had left the Valley. It felt like he’d only left yesterday. The brothel where he’d been raised in the Valley was not a very prosperous one, but that was a good thing in a lot of ways. Middling brothels were not much frequented by nobles, which made everyone’s lives easier. Midori didn’t know if any of the girls he knew had been sold to become courtesans here, but he hoped they hadn’t. It would be better for them to remain in the Valley.

It was impossible to think of the courtesans here and the ones in the Valley as the same kind of people. In the Valley, the courtesans here would be idolized figures—aspirational role models. City courtesans were educated. They could read and write and were versed in various arts, not just music. They could hold their heads high and have pride in themselves and their knowledge.

Midori didn’t know if the girl beside him had once lived in the Valley, but the idea that she could have been born there stirred his sympathy. He worried about meeting someone from his past here. The smell of the incense on her clothes reminded him of the cosmetics he’d been forced to wear at a temple attendant. He felt sick to his stomach and couldn’t eat a single bite of the delicious feast.

The girl noticed his discomfort. She poured some rice wine into a cup for him and then asked, “Sir, are you all right? Have I offended you?”

“No, not at all.” He didn’t want her to feel bad. She’d done nothing wrong. “You remind me of my little sister.”

She smiled. “I see. If you prefer someone older, I can ask one of the other women to take my place.”

As the courtesan started to rise, Midori said, “Wait.”

It wasn’t the girl’s fault that he felt ill at ease. No courtesan, no matter how skilled and beautiful, could make him enjoy himself in a place like this. Could he simply… talk to the girl? That was allowed, right? She was among the youngest of the courtesans; no one was giving her a second look now that she’d sat next to him. She also looked a bit uncomfortable, which was heartening. It helped him to think that she wasn’t used to this place yet. It was easier to be in an uncomfortable place with company that felt the same way.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to talk to you a little longer.”

The courtesan brightened. “Of course. If we are to converse more, young master, I believe we should exchange names. My name is Marisato.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marisato. My name is Midori.”

“Lord Midori,” she said with a slight smile. “This is my first time seeing Keisōin cadets, and I confess that I am a bit flustered. Will you tell me what the Keisōin is like? I am most curious.”

As the banquet continued, Midori and Marisato moved away from the loud revelers and drunk cadets to speak quietly in a corner near a window.

Midori didn’t consider himself a witty conversationalist. He didn’t know a lot of clever stories or jokes. Marisato seemed to enjoy learning about the Keisōin, which was a relief. She reacted to what he told her with just the right amount of surprise, asked thoughtful questions, and listened with apparent enjoyment.

Hours went by in a flash. Midori had worried about spending the night here, but speaking to Marisato was easy. His previous nausea and discomfort vanished. He ran out of Keisōin stories and started talking about random things: sweets he enjoyed, flowers in bloom the previous summer, picturesque places he’d seen. The conversation often took a turn for the mundane, but Midori never felt bored.

“The next time you come, please bring me that candy you like so much,” Marisato said with a slight bow. “I’d be delighted if you would share a piece with me.”

Midori nodded rapidly. He’d already scheduled a time to come and see her again. And how had that happened? He didn’t remember. She’d suggested a second visit, and he hadn’t had the heart to say no to her. He really did want to visit this place again in the future. Marisato might be young, but she was definitely a skilled courtesan.

The banquet ended near dawn. Yatagarasu couldn’t transform at night and the cadets hadn’t brought horses here, so they wouldn’t be able to get back to the Keisōin by sunrise. Trees and Saplings went with courtesans to private rooms for sleep or other entertainments. A few other cadets left the establishment to visit different brothels. Seeds had little money, so most of them wound up sleeping on futons laid out by the brothel employees in the banquet hall.

Midori wanted to go to sleep; he was exhausted. His peers kept chattering away, too excited and overstimulated to rest. Several of them discussed their experiences with the courtesan who’d shared their table. Their understanding of courtesans was so ignorant and innocent that listening to them made Midori blush.

When Midori’s fellow Seeds tried to get him to talk about his evening, he insisted that he was sleepy and pulled his futon’s blanket over himself.

The other cadets went on talking. Eventually someone suggested pretending to use the privy as a pretext to wander around and look inside the building.

“Can we just go to sleep already?” Midori mumbled from beneath his blanket.

“You’re the only one who’s tired,” a Seed said primly. “And you haven’t told us about your courtesan, have you?”

“He was with Marisato, I think,” another Seed said. “You were talking to her for a long time, and you didn’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“She was pretty cute,” the first Seed said.

“She said she’d see him next time.”

Midori groaned beneath the blanket.

***

After that, cadets who regularly went to the city’s pleasure district invited Midori to accompany them during vacation days.

There were no more grand banquets, of course—events like that were prohibitively expensive—but a few cadets together could afford a simple dinner, a few drinks, and company. The more people there were, the less each person had to pay. There wasn’t always a conveniently timed military strategy study group on all of his days off, so Midori went with the other cadets sometimes. Weighing the awkwardness of the pleasure district against the risk of running into Michichika alone, he usually chose the former.

Midori liked talking to Marisato. Courtesans couldn’t be individually hired unless there was a special event, but she often came over to say hello to Midori when he visited.

For his second visit, Midori brought the candy that he’d promised to give her. She was delighted.

“You remembered!” she said as she graciously accepted the candy.

As the visits accumulated, they started speaking of Midori’s past. He shared that he’d been born in the Valley with Marisato. He was starting to feel guilty for having Marisato entertain him in exchange for such little pay. He felt that it was better to be honest with her so that she would understand why he didn’t have much money to spend.

Marisato didn’t seem surprised by his confession. “I knew it was something like that.”

“How?” Midori asked. “Is there something odd about me?” He hadn’t spoken of the Valley to anyone in years. He didn’t think it was obvious that he came from the Valley anymore.

“There’s nothing strange about you,” Marisato said in a reassuring tone. “Only… you have excellent manners, but you’re equally polite to everyone.”

“Uh… I don’t understand,” Midori said. How would such behavior link him to the Valley?

She laughed brightly. “How can I put this? You don’t see me as a courtesan—someone to buy for an evening. You see me as your equal, as a Yatagarasu. Am I wrong? You have treated me that way since our first meeting.”

She smiled and then lowered her voice. “There are customers who treat courtesans kindly out of pity, but I suspected that you were not like that. It isn’t really proper to say this of a customer, but honestly—you remind me of my older brother.”

Midori was pleased. Those words didn’t sound like mere flattery. “In the Valley, children were family even when they weren’t related by blood,” he said. “When I first met you, I had the thought that you might have been born in the Valley, too. If you were, you might have been one of my little sisters.”

Marisato’s smile faded slightly, but she nodded.

After that night, Marisato started seeking Midori out when he visited the brothel, even when she had other customers to entertain. As soon as she heard he had arrived, she would hurry over and offer him a polite greeting.

“Thank you very much for coming,” she would say, her face flushed from happiness.

No one had ever been so delighted to see Midori before. Midori learned that the brothel madam scolded Marisato for showing favoritism. The knowledge amused him.

At the end of each visit, Marisato would say, “You simply must visit again! When will I see you next?” She would accompany him as he left, smiling up at him with sparkling eyes. She was as adorable as a puppy.

Midori’s fellow cadets were jealous of him.

“Pretty boys have it easy, huh.”

“It’s not like that,” Midori said. “I told her when we met that she was like a little sister to me, so she deliberately acts that way.”

His fellow cadets cursed at him. “You don’t get it at all! What are you, blind?”

“There’s no way a courtesan is that innocent.”

“She likes you.”

“She goes out of her way to visit you. That means a lot.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, all right? We’re just customers to them.”

“They entertain us because it’s their job.”

Midori didn’t doubt that Marisato was fond of him, but he knew that she saw him mainly as a customer. Academy cadets were future Yamauchishu. Marisato was doing what she had to do in order to secure her own livelihood. Yamauchishu were nobles, and nobles knew other nobles. Midori wasn’t rich, but he’d become richer when he became a Yamauchishu—and he’d have rich friends.

He had no interest in hiring Marisato for a courtesan’s more personal services, but he hoped that when he became a Yamauchishu, he’d be able to help her. He could hire her as a conversation partner at banquets and overpay her as much as he wanted. He wanted to show her that he was grateful for her company.

Midori never considered how his affection for Marisato might look to others.

***

“Her contract was bought out?” Midori asked, stunned. “How? When?”

Two months had passed since Midori began visiting the pleasure district on his days off. At the beginning of winter, Marisato vanished from the pleasure district.

Midori had brought good tea leaves as a gift for her. When he asked a young servant in the brothel where Marisato was, he learned that she had been sold.

“This is all quite sudden, isn’t it?”

When a courtesan’s contract was bought, she was usually given plenty of time to pack and prepare herself to move. The other courtesans should have had a party for her, and she should have had time to send letters and say farewells to all her friends. Midori had always known that she might someday be sold, but he’d thought there would be more time. She hadn’t bothered to tell him or anyone else where she was going.

“Yes. The lord’s request was that she leave this place soon as possible.”

“I see…”

“We are terribly sorry that she was unable to say farewell to you after all the favor you have shown her, Lord Midori. Marisato herself asked that we convey her thanks to you for everything.”

Midori nodded. “Of course, of course. May I ask who bought her contract?”

“I am sorry, but I can’t tell you where she is now. I can only tell you that the lord who took Marisato as his wife is from a very distinguished family. I am sure she will have an easy life now.”

Midori gave the servant a bitter smile. He knew from experience that being taken in by a wealthy family didn’t guarantee happiness. It was likely true that Marisato’s new husband was a lord, so she would have a noble rank as well as wealth. The courtesans in the city’s pleasure district were well-educated in every art and subject; their contracts were so expensive in part because they had many valuable skills. Midori knew that courtesans could also refuse to have their contracts bought, and that meant Marisato hadn’t refused.

Midori was worried about Marisato, of course, but he tried to be happy for her. Most courtesans hoped to marry a wealthy noble. She was lucky to receive such an offer when she was still so young.

“I suppose it’s for the best,” Midori said. He sighed and then handed the tea leaves he’d brought to the servant. “Please share this with all the courtesans, with my compliments.”

***

The next morning, Midori returned to the Keisōin with his fellow cadets at dawn. He alighted in front of the gate and took human form. His breath made white plumes in the air. His lips felt frozen and he was exhausted from staying out all night.

Midori had not enjoyed the previous night. Marisato’s absence was keenly felt. He’d visited the pleasure district before while Marisato was otherwise occupied, of course, but last night he kept thinking that he would never see her again. Her absence in the banquet hall wasn’t temporary this time. He decided that he would find something else to do with his days off in the future.

He turned the corner and was walking toward his dorm room when he stopped dead in his tracks.

Michichika stood outside his door, grinning. “I’ve been waiting for you, Hamidori.” He leaned against a wooden pillar near the door with his arms folded.

Midori hadn’t seen Michichika in quite some time, so it was a surprise to see him here. Midori approached slowly, more irritated than he would usually be because he was so tired. He bit back the words, “What do you want?” with great effort.

Michichika wore a woman’s kimono over his feather robe. It was brightly colored and patterned with autumn leaves.

Midori recognized that kimono. It belonged to Marisato.

“I heard you were on intimate terms with a courtesan,” Michichika said.

Midori’s blood pounded in his ears. His shoulders went rigid. “We weren’t involved in that way,” he said. His mind leaped to the obvious conclusion, but he refused to believe that Michichika had bought Marisato’s contract. He couldn’t have. It was impossible.

Michichika grinned broadly, baring his sharp canines. “I bought her. I’m sure you guessed that by now.”

Midori said nothing. His face felt numb. He stared at Michichika, who tilted his head playfully at him.

“So. Do you feel like killing me now?”

The question restored some of Midori’s usual equanimity. He used her to mess with me. Of course. I should never have expected anything different. Midori felt dizzy now, like he was about to pass out. He was too exhausted to deal with any of this.

Midori had been so careful about his friendships at the Keisōin. He’d never gotten too close to anyone because he’d feared what Michichika might do to them. He’d never even imagined that an acquaintance from the city would gain Michichika’s attention. He should have known better than to let his guard down.

“Michichika, what the hell have you done?” Midori asked, his voice low and angry.

Michichika looked… what? Disappointed?

“Oh. So you really weren’t on intimate terms with her. That’s a shame.”

“Wh—what?”

Michichika let out a grand sigh. “So I did all that for nothing.”

Midori had no idea what Michichika had seen in him to produce such disappointment. It was probably better that he thought Midori didn’t care about Marisato at all, though.

Don’t panic, Midori told himself. He couldn’t give Michichika any openings to exploit. He took a deep breath and allowed his shoulders to relax.

“All she did for me was pour me drinks,” Midori said. “Whoever told you we were intimate was misinformed.”

Michichika pouted. “I wanted to see how you’d react if I stole your woman! I should never have bought her. What a waste of money.”

“My condolences,” Midori said with obvious insincerity. “What will you do with her now?”

“Well. What should I do with her?” Michichika scratched his head roughly. “I’m not all that interested in women, but since I’ve bought her, I’d rather not waste her.” He glared at the dawn sky. “Do you want her?”

“…Huh?” Midori asked.

“I like you,” Michichika said. “No other attendant I’ve had has lasted this long. I could reward you for your loyalty by giving you the woman. She is currently in a residence I own. If you want, I could give you the entire estate.” He smiled as he warmed to his idea, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

Midori stared at him. Nothing Michichika did should shock him anymore. He wasn’t really shocked now, which made him feel worse about himself. He understood how Michichika thought too well to fall for his obvious traps.

“If I said I wanted that,” Midori said carefully, “you would just take back the estate and the woman whenever you felt like it.”

So. Do you feel like killing me now?

Midori remembered that question and all the questions just like it. It took all his strength to remain on his feet. Damn it, he was too tired for Michichika’s games right now. Michichika was fixated on making Midori want to kill him. He would do anything to provoke Midori.

“So you figured it out.” Michichika stuck out his tongue.

Something inside Midori snapped. “Enough of this, Michichika,” he said. “Give it a rest.” He stepped forward and seized Michichika by the collar. “I am sick to death of this. I won’t kill you, and I don’t want to. Understand? Why do you keep testing me when you already know that I won’t kill you? What does all of this accomplish?”

Midori waited for the blow. He expected Michichika to punch him in the face or shove him away.

But Michichika didn’t attack him. He looked Midori in the eye and said, “You’re a liar. You do want to kill me, but you won’t. Not right now. I want to know what I have to do to make you kill me.”

Midori nodded. “That’s fair. I hate you enough to kill you. I always have, since the moment we met.”

Michichika smiled. “The truth at last! Thank you for saying it. But you see, I’ve always known the truth. You always want to kill me, but you’ve never acted on that feeling. You’re an anomaly. I find you very puzzling. I want to find your limit because there’s a huge difference between people who act on their impulses and people who rein them in.”

“Idiot,” Midori spat. “Since you still don’t get it, I’ll spell it out for you. I don’t want to be a murderer. I don’t want to kill, period. I hate you and wouldn’t care if you were dead, but even if I decided to attack you, I don’t think I could kill you. I might be skilled enough to do it, or I could take you by surprise, but I still think I’d hesitate at the last moment—because I don’t want to kill anyone, even you. And I’m sick of your tests and your games. Stop this. Nothing you ever do will convince me to want to kill people.”

Michichika’s smile flashed off. “I’m sure a lot of people don’t want to kill others,” he said. “That’s not a unique reason. You say you don’t think you could do it, but you’ve never tried. And you say you don’t want any more tests or games, but your whole life is a test. You choose pride over everything else every time. That’s what makes you predictable.” He spoke like he was reciting ancient truths from a prayer scroll.

“You put up with everything because you want noble status,” Michichika said. “Everything. I’m trying to understand that. I still don’t.”

Midori stared blankly at Michichika, who was calmly analyzing Midori’s motives as if they were important to him. Midori couldn’t fathom why.

“You could kill me now and become a noble easily, but you still won’t do it,” Michichika said. “You have a hundred reasons to kill me. Anyone who found out that you’d murdered me would understand your actions. You’d barely be punished. You might not be punished at all. My father would reward you.”

Midori shook his head. “You can’t know that. No one knows what the consequences of their actions will be. I’ve already told you my reasoning. You can tell when people are lying, so you should believe me.”

Michichika frowned and shook his head. “No. You think that there’s a line you’ll never cross, but you’re wrong. I just have to find it. I have to keep looking for it.”

Midori closed his eyes. This will never stop. I’ll never get a break. He opened his eyes and then let go of Michichika’s collar. His eyes hurt. Parts of his peripheral vision were missing. He pressed his aching eyes with his palms and groaned. “It would be so much easier for me if you just dropped dead.”

“I’m not about to do that.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not gonna kill me?”

“No.”

As Midori entered his dorm room, he thought about how he could stop Michichika from inflicting more damage to him. Michichika might as well be an unstoppable force. Midori had no idea how to make him cease his ridiculous tests.

He has his answer, but he doesn’t like it. He’s going to push me until it changes.

***

In the end, Michichika decided to use Marisato as a tool to put pressure on Midori. Every time he saw Midori, he’d give him a status update on Marisato’s well-being and try to goad him into attacking.

“That girl is in love with you,” Michichika said. “And yet she was bought by me. Don’t you feel terribly sorry for her?”

Midori said nothing.

“Do you want to know how she’s doing now?”

Midori remained silent.

“I beat her sometimes, the same way I beat you,” Michichika said. “Your heart must ache for her right? If you don’t kill me, your beloved Marisato will continue to suffer.”

Silence.

“Don’t you want to rescue her? She sees you like an older brother, you know. Are you just going to let her suffer at my hands?”

Midori didn’t respond.

“So she means nothing to you? Or are you so much of a coward that you won’t face me to save her?”

Nothing Michichika said got a rise out of Midori, so he changed tactics.

“I was lying before. Marisato lives in the lap of luxury. You can’t even imagine how opulent her life is. I think she might even love me. Certainly, she cares more for me than she ever did for you. How does that make you feel?”

Midori was as still as a statue and as expressive.

“Do you hate her or me more? Oh, you don’t have to answer. Even if you were honest with me, you’d say something about how violence isn’t the way to settle disputes, and that’s boring.

“It’s your fault, you know, that’s she’s my woman now. Maybe I should let her entertain other men? That’s how she was trained, after all. If I commanded her to take other lovers, she could hardly disobey me.”

Midori was used to tuning Michichika out, but he often wished that his bully would stop talking. He didn’t believe a word Michichika said, of course, but he was concerned about Marisato, so he made inquiries about her through Instructor Seiken, since he could easily contact the Minami Tachibana family.

Michichika had spent the past year or so engaging in trade and purchasing properties. No one seemed to know exactly what he was doing with his newfound wealth. Marisato’s whereabouts were unknown.

Midori was sorry that he’d ever paid Marisato even the slightest bit of attention. It was his fault that Michichika had targeted her. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know what he could do. He didn’t even know where she was or if she was alive.

“We must get in touch with her somehow,” Instructor Seiken said.

“But we don’t know where she is.”

“Then we will find her. Let’s ask Lord Yasuchika to investigate. Michichika is earning money by mediating between merchants and nobles, so we might learn something from the merchants. I’ll leverage my family’s connections.”

Midori clung to Seiken in tears. He felt utterly helpless to save Marisato. He worried obsessively about her safety, but he couldn’t afford to let that show.

***

On a day off, Midori got up early and did homework in his room. Michichika came to visit him at mid-morning, which was not terribly unusual.

It was unusual for him to come with a gift.

Grinning, Michichika held out some sweet mochi cakes in a basket.

“What’s this?”

“A gift from that woman. Are you jealous? I’ll let you have some.”

Midori was sick of the same old bullying. He knew that if he refused Michichika’s “gift,” he’d only wind up with a mochi cake shoved in his mouth. Annoyed, he accepted one of the cakes and ate it.

All was well until he swallowed the mochi. His stomach rebelled immediately. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He folded forward and collapsed to the floor, coughing.

Michichika hadn’t beaten him black and blue for a long time… and he’d never poisoned him before. The sudden terrible pain stunned Midori briefly. He was no longer practiced at reacting to the agony that Michichika had so often inflicted upon him.

While Midori coughed on the floor, Michichika held out a bamboo tube with a look of disgust on his face. “If you don’t want to die, do as I say. Spit out everything you swallowed. Rinse your mouth with this right now, then take his pill.”

Michichika was uncharacteristically serious as he guided Midori through the steps of taking the poison’s antidote.

“I’m disappointed. I thought you had finally made your move. You really didn’t know anything, did you?”

“Didn’t know… what?”

“You haven’t noticed? The spices hide it a little, but these cakes reek of keirō.”

Keirō was the name of a poison that Midori had learned about at the Keisōin. It was very potent. It brought about a swift death with minimal suffering, so it was frequently used to execute traitorous nobles.

“That girl tried to kill me,” Michichika said. He was smiling, but there was no warmth in his voice. “She needs to be punished. Don’t you agree?”

“Stop it, Michichika.”

“Stop what? I can’t just let this slide.”

“Don’t kill her. Please. I’m begging you.”

“She tried to kill me. Why should I show her mercy?” He laughed and then left Midori’s room.

Midori tried to go after him, but the poison had weakened him. He collapsed in a pitiful heap on the floor. His hands and feet wouldn’t obey him. He tingled all over. The edges of his vision dimmed.

He had to get up. He had no time to rest. Michichika was going to kill Marisato right now. He had to find some way to save her.

But how?

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