Yatagarasu Series 9 - The Raven's Loyalty - Part 5: Michichika

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 9: 

The Raven's Loyalty

Author: Abe Chisato

Part 5: Michichika

This world is arranged for the benefit of fools, Michichika thought as his swordsmanship instructor beat him into the dirt.

“One who rules by force is in turn ruled by a greater force,” Michichika’s swordsmanship instructor said.

As he pondered this, Michichika reflected that his instructors and his father had often taught him contradictory lessons. This lesson about force and power was a case in point. He’d read about power in the classics as well. Those wise sages constantly contradicted one another. He couldn’t believe that all of their wisdom was true, because much of it couldn’t be simultaneously true. The truth was complicated; Michichika understood that, but he also firmly believed that truth was objective and should be consistent.

The books Michichika had read since childhood uniformly condemned seeking power for its own sake while also declaring that might made right and that being powerful was noble and correct. They condemned fame while asserting that those without it were worthless. They said that a ruler who valued his servants would always be a ruler and that servants must always conduct themselves as if their ruler were worthy of their service, even if they were not. Michichika knew from recent history that servants regularly betrayed their masters. Sometimes traitorous servants became rulers in their own right. The classics never said anything about that.

Once or twice, Michichika made himself ask about the contradictions that troubled him so. His instructor of poetry thought over his questions and then smiled. “An astute observation, young master. You are correct that the classics contradict one another, because they were written by different people with different ways of thinking. Through their writings, they sought the truth, but they didn’t always find it. Some believe that there is more than one truth.”

“Do you?” Michichika asked, not liking the instructor’s answer at all.

“Perhaps. It is undeniable that all of the classics cannot be true at the same time. They are meant to guide your search for the truth, not to tell you explicitly what the truth is.”

The instructor’s vague answers made Michichika feel restless. If truth was not objective—if everyone had their own truth—then what was the point of seeking it?

“In that case, why study? What if I can’t tell what is right and what is wrong? If there is no definitive answer, what am I supposed to use as a model?”

“You must consider what you learn and act in the way that you believe is right.”

Michichika was taken aback by the gravity of what the instructor had just said.

“Studying is not useless,” the instructor continued. “The books given to you have stood the test of time. They are taught to you and other students because many other people have decided that they have value. They represent ideals and introduce ideas about how things should be.”

“But reality is not ideal,” Michichika protested. He shook his head.

“Correct,” the instructor said, “but that does not mean ideals are useless. You must examine the ideas presented to you and decide if you agree with them or not. The books you study contain more distinct ideas than any one man will have in his entire lifetime. Someday you will cease to be a formal student, and at that time you will be expected to act on your own ideas of what is right and wrong. What you learn now is foundational. You will use this knowledge to decide how you will live your life. That is why nobles learn poetry and prose first, because the process of sifting through ideas is lifelong. The sooner you start, the more ideas you can learn about.”

Michichika was convinced by this answer, though it didn’t put all his doubts to rest. He applied himself diligently to his studies because he wanted to learn the truth, but he didn’t entirely understand how he was supposed to go about doing that. He respected his poetry instructor as a wise man who always answered every question honestly and thoroughly. The instructor’s death from old age was a blow to the young Michichika. He would rarely encounter such a cogent and caring teacher again in his life.

***

Unfortunately, the instructor’s successor was inferior in all ways. He could explain various interpretations of poems and prose, but he was not a big picture thinker; he couldn’t explain why understanding interpretations was important. Whenever Michichika posed a broad question, the new instructor became lost in pointless details.

It didn’t help that the new instructor was an insufferable brown-noser.

“Young master, you are an outstanding student!”

Michichika’s father loved hearing this, of course, but Michichika had little use for praise. His former instructor had asked more of him and praised him less. He hoped he wasn’t becoming dumber by attending the new instructor’s classes.

Despite his growing dissatisfaction, his former instructor’s lessons remained with him. It was up to him to decide right and wrong for himself based on what he learned. He had an excellent memory, so he found it easy to research different perspectives. But memorizing ideas was not the same as understanding them, and Michichika was often frustrated at himself and others.

When Michichika tried testing his understanding of right and wrong, his parents punished him. They had often praised him in the past, so their opposition made no sense to him. His mother lamented that he lacked compassion and his father expressed outrage that his brilliant son could not comprehend such simple things.

No one bothered to explain why they were upset, as his former instructor might have done. Michichika remained in the dark, frightened of making yet another wrong step.

When Michichika asked for detailed explanations, his mother told him that his feelings were underdeveloped, whatever that meant.

Michichika thought of relationships as transactions: people helped each other because they wanted to be helped in return. That basic idea was the foundation of everything he knew about interpersonal interactions.

A lord received obedience from servants in exchange for offering them benefits.

The maids fawned over his mother because serving her was advantageous to them, not because they had any particular affection for her.

Even so, his mother entertained the illusion that her good relationship with her servants was due to her own virtue and good moral character. She issued the completely misguided instruction that Michichika should copy her example.

If the world’s power systems were dependent upon the presence or absence of virtue in a leader, political upheavals would never happen. Michichika wanted servants who shared his worldview and his interests. As long as his servants understood him, no problems should arise.

Michichika’s father told him that things were not so simple. “Look around you,” he said. “Your servants might understand you, but they do not like you.”

“They don’t have to like me,” Michichika said. “You and Mother are the only ones who insist that they must. Anyone who is dissatisfied can leave my service at any time. I am not forcing anyone to serve me. Why should I change my behavior because they dislike me? If I did that, I would be demeaning myself for the sake of their comfort. That doesn’t seem like proper conduct for a nobleman.”

His father had no rebuttal to those specific statements, but he reminded Michichika of the lesson that his swordsmanship instructor had given him: “One who rules by force is in turn ruled by a greater force.”

Michichika frowned at him and said nothing. He was often angry because people around him didn’t understand how he thought. Other people were far more foolish and simple-minded than he was. They lived according to their interests like everyone else, but they pretended to be selfless and kind for inscrutable reasons. It was like there was a list of invisible rules somewhere that everyone could read except him.

Lord Yasuchika was Michichika’s father, but he didn’t strike Michichika as a deep thinker. He showed no sign of wondering how the world really worked. Few people wondered about such things the same way Michichika did. He had to live his life surrounded by such incurious people.

Why bother? Michichika thought. He thought this often. Why should he take life and its workings seriously when no one else did? The thought that he would have to live among intellectually stunted idiots until his eventual death disgusted him.

Michichika was lost in a kind of perverse self-pity when his father tried to assassinate him for the first time. Very little surprised Michichika, but that got his attention. His father had invested time and resources into him for more than a decade, and he’d never expressed hostility before. What had changed? Why was his father so willing to lose his investment? How would his father benefit from his premature death?

People were supposed to act based on self-interest, yet his father’s actions deviated from that. Was his belief that the world was essentially transactional wrong? Or was there a hidden benefit to killing Michichika that he simply hadn’t noticed?

He wanted to know his father’s motives, but his father refused to answer his questions. His father stubbornly refused to even admit that he had tried to kill him. His actions were incomprehensible. What was he thinking? Michichika could only guess.

Michichika had never wanted to kill anyone before. If he discovered his father’s reasoning and presented him with it, would his father finally be honest with him? He thought that might be the case, but days passed without him making any kind of progress at understanding his father’s reason for trying to assassinate him.

Thinking that broadening his experience and knowledge might be one way forward, he spent time in the city’s pleasure district and in back alleys. He also meddled with some trade routes and investments to earn his own money.

These activities confirmed to him that the world was transactional. He didn’t know how else the world could run. Everything he saw was based on giving and taking for the sake of mutual advantage.

He couldn’t understand why his father had tried to kill him.

As he was thinking about what to do to protect himself, Kiyora, a newly appointed Yamauchishu, visited the Minami Tachibana city estate.

“Cadets come from all over Yamauchi—rich, poor, or in between,” Kiyora told Michichika. “Each cadet bears their own burdens and their own opinions. By interacting with others who are different from them, their own 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. How interesting.”

“Yes, it was a very interesting place.”

“I would like to go to the Keisōin, too.”

The way Kiyora spoke of the Keisōin sparked joy in Michichika. He’d spent such a long time being frustrated and bored. He wanted joy and to learn about new and interesting things. If Kiyora was to be believed, Michichika was quite ignorant of the world. It wasn’t a terrible idea to change his surroundings and try learning somewhere new.

From birth, Michichika had been told that he was the heir of the Lord of Minami Tachibana. The responsibilities that came with that role had been instilled in him since he could walk. Now that he had something of an education and some life experience, inheriting his father’s title and properties held limited appeal.

His father had tried to kill him. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if Michichika ran away.

When Michichika expressed his wish to enter the Keisōin, his father granted his permission immediately.

***

Unfortunately, the Keisōin was not as interesting a place as Michichika had imagined. He had no opportunities to learn about other people’s perspectives as Kiyora had claimed. That was disappointing. He amused himself with thwarting assassination attempts, of which there were many. His father sent many people to try to kill him. None of the assassins tried the same way twice.

Attendants assigned to Michichika by his father tried to poison him or break his neck. They were perfect test subjects for studying murderous intent in other people. When he caught people trying to kill him, he didn’t kill them right away. Instead, he asked them questions.

Murder was a crime. The classical texts he’d read also claimed that it left a moral stain on the soul. No one should approach murder casually. There had to be specific and compelling reasons to even attempt murder. What had prompted them to act? What kind of deal had they struck with his father? What had been offered to them? Why had they agreed to kill him when they didn’t even know who he was?

Since the assassins were prepared to kill, they should also be prepared to be killed. So much was only logical. Yet none of the assassins who came after him wanted or expected to be killed. Michichika found that very strange.

Then he remembered that most people were fools. He need not concern himself with the motives or the reasoning of idiots. Everyone knew that fools reasoned poorly; that was why they were fools. Listening to their answers to his questions usually disappointed Michichika. He couldn’t discover his father’s thinking by interrogating the flawed tools he had sent.

After a number of his father’s agents had fled or died, their replacements chose smarter tactics. They waited for Michichika to be alone and tried to cut his throat in his sleep. Once, three men armed with daggers attacked him in the middle of the night.

It was easy to kill them. People thought that they were bandits who’d targeted him because he was wealthy, but he knew better. There were no bandits around the Keisōin; the academy was well-defended on the outside and attacking the well-trained instructors and cadets on the inside would be insane. Someone had let his attackers in.

Michichika found his experiences with murder enlightening. He’d expected to be wracked with guilt for killing the assassins who’d come after him, but he wasn’t. The three “bandits” were the first people he killed intentionally, and he felt no guilt or remorse for his actions.

The classics had lied to him again; he’d expected that becoming a murderer would change him somehow. He understood now why some people decided to kill others for a living. Those people must be like him.

What would his father do now? After the bandit attack, things were quiet at the Keisōin for months. He expected more assassins to arrive when he became a Sapling, but the attendants who came to be his roommates had not been ordered to kill him.

Since the attendants weren’t here to kill him, Michichika had no reason to kill them. He’d also missed having an attendant, so it was convenient to let one of them stay—the more honest one. The other attendant was totally useless, so Michichika sent him away without delay.

Midori was unique in Michichika’s experience. He was strong-willed, capable, and intelligent. The qualities surprised Michichika; he knew that Midori was a courtesan’s son from the Valley. Midori answered Michichika’s questions honestly, and his lack of timidity made him easy to talk to. He was a hard worker and well-trained attendant.

Michichika also approved of Midori’s motives. He had no greed for wealth or luxury—all he wanted was respect. Michichika liked that he was consistent in his actions and easy to understand, for the most part. He wasn’t an illogical fool. Michichika benefited from learning Midori’s perspective, as Kiyora had said he would. He and Midori had lived completely different lives and rarely interpreted actions and events in the same way.

After he figured out how Midori thought, he decided to continue his experiments about murderous intent.

Midori was of humble birth. He made no attempt to hide his ambition to rise in the world by using Michichika. Michichika thought that Midori would kill him if he would benefit from it.

But Midori never tried to kill him. Not once. He didn’t run away or attack him, either. He endured all kinds of abuse as if he were stoic. He obviously wanted to kill Michichika, but he didn’t act on that desire.

At first, Michichika thought that Midori had decided to go along with everything to get him to drop his guard. As time passed and Midori never took advantage of him during his most vulnerable moments, he was forced to reconsider.

Midori feared Michichika. He wouldn’t attack him because he feared to die himself. That made a lot of sense to Michichika.

Michichika had never met anyone like Midori before. Midori glared at him with hatred in his eyes, but he caused Michichika no harm. Michichika felt compelled to test the limits of his restraint. He loved watching Midori angry with him, because Midori angry was like a different person—smarter, more animated, more vital and alive.

Even Instructor Seiken noticed Midori and took him under his wing. Michichika was not surprised by that. Midori was beautiful in his own way.

Michichika had Midori’s past investigated because he was so curious about him. That was when he learned that Midori’s name at birth was Hamidori. Midori disliked being called that; it was his dead mother’s name. Michichika thought Hamidori suited him better than Midori, though, so he never called him by any other name.

And so their relationship was established. Michichika wanted to know Hamidori’s limits and tormented him constantly. Hamidori endured everything he was subjected to with stubbornness and grace. Michichika had never met anyone as stubborn as Hamidori.

The situation reached an impasse. Michichika was out of ideas to test Hamidori, and Hamidori was simply unbreakable. That was when Kiyora—now Instructor Seiken—arrived at the Keisōin.

Michichika knew that Seiken was one of his father’s tools, but he was interesting like Hamidori was interesting. He wasn’t afraid of Michichika at all, and he willingly answered all of Michichika’s questions, no matter how ludicrous they were. They spent entire nights in spirited debate.

“What would I have to do to convince you to kill me?”

This was one of Michichika’s usual questions. Seiken answered with complete candor. “We must start with the fact that, at this moment, I do not want to kill you. If I was ever pushed to kill you, I am certain that I would regret it for the rest of my life.” He paused, considering. “I believe that if I ever did try to kill you, it would be because you killed or harmed someone very dear to me. But you’re also very important to me, so I intend to prevent such conflict. No one should have to make such a terrible choice.”

Seiken was the son of a wealthy merchant. He’d earned noble status for himself by graduating from the Keisōin with top marks. He was content with his situation and had no desire to climb higher. Nothing the Lord of Minami Tachibana could offer would tempt him. The only thing that would make him turn on Michichika was Michichika’s own betrayal. If Michichika harmed someone important to him, Seiken might retaliate by killing him.

“So if I leave the people you care about alone, you’ll never try to kill me?”

“That is correct.”

Michichika knew that Seiken was telling the truth. It would be too risky to test Seiken, so he redoubled his efforts in Hamidori’s direction.

Since Seiken’s arrival, Hamidori had been moved to a separate room. His daily contact with Michichika was greatly reduced. Michichika spoke with Seiken more and more. Hamidori began spending time with his fellow cadets.

Michichika discovered that Hamidori was making frequent trips to the pleasure district. He learned that Hamidori was infatuated with a particular courtesan.

If his beloved courtesan were taken from him, Hamidori would surely fly into a rage. Anyone would.

Michichika bought the courtesan’s contract and waited in anticipation.

He didn’t get the response he had expected.

Hamidori went pale when Michichika told him what he’d done, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t seem angry at all. Michichika had expected more of a reaction. He was disappointed and wished he hadn’t wasted the money buying the courtesan.

It did seem like Hamidori had formed some kind relationship with her, so perhaps Michichika could still make use of her somehow. The courtesan herself tried to poison him, which was a stroke of luck. He knew immediately that she’d poisoned the mochi cakes she’d made for him, of course.

It’s been so long since someone tried poison, Michichika thought. He felt a wave of nostalgia as he accepted the basket of mochi cakes from the courtesan.

“These are poisoned, aren’t they?” he asked the girl.

“Of course not!” The courtesan looked affronted.

Michichika considered making her eat one of the mochi cakes, but she wouldn’t be able to answer questions if she was dead. Michichika suspected that she was working with Hamidori somehow. He knew that Hamidori had tried to send her messages several times… maybe a secret message had gotten through?

With a spring in his step, Michichika brought the basket of poisoned mochi cakes to Hamidori’s room. He’d finally discovered Hamidori’s breaking point.

On his way out of the estate where he was keeping the courtesan, Michichika noticed a man following him. Perhaps the courtesan wanted a witness to confirm the success of the poisoning. He memorized the man’s face and decided to investigate later.

Hamidori had nothing to do with the poisoning. The courtesan had acted on her own.

Exasperated and a little impressed, Michichika thought again about what he needed to do to make Hamidori want to kill him.

At least there was no need for him to spare the courtesan now. She’d tried to kill him, and he could prove it. He could use her however he wanted now.

Instructor Seiken had said that if he were ever to kill Michichika, it would be because Michichika had tried to kill someone he loved. Maybe Hamidori was the same? He accepted violence against his person with stubbornness and patience, but he might not be able to tolerate violence against others.

Michichika decided to try torturing the courtesan in front of Hamidori. He didn’t totally understand why she’d tried to kill him so soon. He’d given her lavish quarters and the run of one of his properties. Michichika guessed that his father had gotten to her somehow. He must have promised her some kind of reward. He could interrogate the courtesan and find out for sure. Doing that in front of Hamidori would get him two things he wanted: information, and Hamidori’s murderous rage.

With that in mind, he returned to the estate where he’d stashed the courtesan. When he arrived, she was gone. Michichika didn’t panic. He had a general idea of how she’d escaped. She had cost him a lot of money, so he wasn’t about to just let her go.

How irksome, Michichika thought as he left the estate again.

***

“Midori! Hey, are you all right?” a cadet asked. He was bending over Midori. Midori couldn’t remember his name.

Midori felt lighter than air and cold through. How long had he been unconscious? Was he already too late to save Marisato? He looked toward the window and saw that it wasn’t too much past noon. He’d been out for minutes, not hours.

“Damn it.” Midori sat up. He muttered curses under his breath and wiped the sweat from his face.

Michichika was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, are you okay? Did Michichika get you again?” the cadet asked.

“Tell Instructor Seiken, ‘Marisato poisoned me.’ He’ll understand. Hurry, please.”

“Uh… okay.” The cadet nodded, but he looked confused. He got up and left the room, glancing back at Midori once to make sure he wasn’t going to pass out again.

Midori couldn’t search for Michichika at random; he’d never find him. He guessed that Michichika was going after Marisato, and he knew roughly where that was. He’d been trying to get messages to Marisato for weeks.

The poison itself was the most important clue he had to Michichika’s current whereabouts. Keirō was a poison used by nobles, for nobles. Marisato couldn’t have prepared it on her own. Someone had given it to her and incited her to kill Michichika.

It didn’t take a genius to reason that Lord Yasuchika was the mastermind behind this assassination attempt.

Midori picked himself up off the floor and flew to the Lord of Minami Tachibana’s city estate.

“You there, stop!” a mounted estate guard called out to Midori.

Midori flashed his Keisōin sash, which caused the guard to give him space.

“You can’t just go past us,” the guard said. “Come with me. You need to request an appointment before entering this estate.”

Midori nodded rapidly. The guard escorted him to the ground and to the front doors of the estate. Midori didn’t wait; he ignored the guard and several others in front of the door and rushed straight into the garden.

The garden was withered and bleak this afternoon, the dead plants bleached white in the light of the westering sun. Guards and soldiers swarmed around Midori, but he paid no attention to them.

“You there—aren’t you Midori?” a soldier asked. “This conduct is unbecoming of a Keisōin cadet. Explain yourself!”

Midori recognized the soldier as one of his sparring partners in swordsmanship. The man had trained with him, Michichika and Kimichika occasionally.

“I have an urgent message for the Lord of Minami Tachibana,” Midori gasped out.

“The lord is busy. Tell us your business.”

“There’s no time. This concerns Michichika. I must have an audience with the Lord of Minami Tachibana at once.”

Lord Yasuchika appeared in the garden, drawn by the commotion. “Midori? Why are you here?”

Midori pushed guards and soldiers aside and stood before Yasuchika. He didn’t bow or kneel.

“You ordered Marisato to kill Michichika,” Midori said.

Yasuchika’s eyebrow twitched.

“Michichika knows. He intends to kill her. Please tell him that she has already escaped, and that you are hiding her. If that is not the case, then I beg you to protect her.”

“What are you talking about?” Lord Yasuchika asked.

“You feign ignorance?” Midori asked. He was almost screaming. The soldiers leveled their spears at him.

As Midori faced the duplicitous Lord of Minami Tachibana, he understood Michichika’s desire to strike people down in a rage. Midori glared at the guards and prepared to attack…

…but then Kimichika threw open the sliding door that led to the garden. “Cease,” he said as he stepped onto the wooden veranda. “My father did not contact the courtesan. I did.”

Kimichika held Midori’s gaze without flinching.

Midori was dumbfounded. “Young master…you gave Marisato the poison? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? My brother never lets people near him like that. I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to make use of a woman he bought. He’s never bought a courtesan before. I thought to test him, that’s all.”

“That… that’s not what I mean!” Midori’s thoughts raced a mile a minute. Kimichika didn’t generally seek conflict. He always seemed calm and unruffled. Michichika was no longer his father’s heir, so Kimichika shouldn’t feel threatened by his brother at all.

“Why would you try to kill Michichika?” Midori asked.

Kimichika rolled his eyes. “You have to ask? My elder brother is a stain on the Minami Tachibana family. Leaving him alive will bring us nothing but harm. If he can be eliminated, he should be.”

So Kimichika hadn’t done this because he feared losing his position. If he felt guilty or remorseful, he showed no sign of it. He genuinely believed that it would be dangerous to let Michichika live.

“I was trying to deal with him for your sake,” Kimichika added. “He causes trouble at the Keisōin. I wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. I’ve heard that he bullies you mercilessly. You should be grateful, Midori.”

Midori flinched. He’d never seen much resemblance between Kimichika and Michichika before, but he saw it now. They didn’t look alike, but they were the same on the inside. Midori knew Michichika better than anyone. Kimichika’s gentler exterior had fooled him once, but he saw through it now.

“What has happened to Marisato?” Midori asked quietly.

“She escaped.”

Kimichika told Midori that after the assassination attempt was made, the plan was to move Marisato elsewhere. When Kimichika’s people arrived to move her, she was gone. The soldiers who’d been entrusted with her protection were found unconscious on the grounds of the estate. There was no trace of Marisato anywhere.

“I received a message just now,” Kimichika said. “Marisato fled to the Valley. And it seems that my brother has gone after her.”

“The Valley…” Midori’s shoulders tensed. He understood Marisato’s desperation. She’d tried to kill a noble. There was nowhere else for her to go now but the Valley.

Lord Yasuchika stepped forward. “You received this message from the Valley?” he asked.

“Yes, just a moment ago. This is a serious matter, so I thought I should consult you before replying, Father. I haven’t replied yet. Michichika is causing trouble in the Valley now, unsurprisingly. He’s been secured by the bosses there, and they sent a message to us, since he’s noble. The bosses don’t want this situation to get messier than it already is.”

“They’ve secured him? You’re certain?” Lord Yasuchika asked.

“Yes. He got into a brawl that was broken up by some bystanders. A few people are seriously injured. The Valley is insisting on some kind of reparations before they return him.”

Lord Yasuchika nodded. “This is a good opportunity for us, then.” There was a cruel light in his eyes. “Put this in your message: if they take care of him, we will reward them however they wish.”

“Understood,” Kimichika said.

Midori was stunned. The Lord of Minami Tachibana and his youngest son had just proposed to kill Michichika again, right in front of him. “This is insane,” he said in a voice barely heard. Midori hated nobles. He brushed the soldiers around him away and turned his back on the Lord of Minami Tachibana. Then he walked out of the garden.

“Midori, where do you think you’re going?” Kimichika called out.

“To the valley. I have to bring Marisato back.”

“There’s no need for you to go. Return to the Keisōin. You can go to fetch her after Michichika is dealt with. I’ll officially take you as one of my attendants, so you’ll be under my command from now on.”

Midori spun around sharply. “Who the hell would serve the likes of you, you bastard?!”

He transformed and flew toward the Valley. He didn’t glance back once.

***

“Oh! You look important. Good. I was sick of waiting for someone worthy,” Michichika said as Tobi stepped into the middle of a street brawl.

Tobi had been summoned here by his underlings—all ruffians who he considered capable fighters. Some had broken arms and black eyes. Others could barely walk, they were so badly beaten.

Standing calmly in the middle of it all was a tall young man carrying a bamboo practice sword that rested casually against his shoulder. Tobi knew that kind of sword was only carried by Keisōin cadets. He was impressed that the young man had wreaked such havoc using only a practice weapon.

“You’ve got some skill,” Tobi said as he came closer.

“Are these guys your underlings? For men who make their living with their fists, they’re weak,” the young man said.

“I can’t argue with that. I’ll have to beat some backbone into them,” he said with a slight smile. “I’m Tobi. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m the boss of all the people you’ve beaten up.”

“I’ve heard of you,” the young man said. “You’re one of the more powerful bosses, I think. Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet me. I’m Michichika of the Minami Tachibana family.”

Tobi blinked. He recognized Michichika’s name—any of the bosses would. Worse, he remembered encountering Michichika once before, though not in person. Michichika had caused a stir a few years back by winning a lot of money in a gambling den in a suspicious way. Michichika was a legitimate son of one of the city’s most powerful nobles, so Tobi couldn’t just order him beaten or killed. He couldn’t say he was happy to see Michichika in the Valley now.

“Why is a nobleman slumming it in the Valley?” Tobi asked, deliberately casual.

“One of the courtesans I own committed a grave crime and fled here. I have come to retrieve her.”

“A grave crime?”

“She put poison in my food. I almost died.”

“I see. You’re well within your rights to bring her back, then. Why beat up these others?”

Michichika sneered. “These people had the nerve to say that it was my fault that I was poisoned.” Michichika displayed his indignation with an overly theatrical gesture. “I’ll have you know that I behaved properly toward this woman as her master. I never once raised a hand against her. Yet these people picked a fight with me, saying I was not fit to be her master.”

Tobi surveyed his fallen underlings silently for a few moments.

One of the underlings who had come to fetch him trembled and said, “Ridiculous. From what we heard, his behavior toward the woman was terrible. We can’t just hand her over without asking questions. He tried to drag her off before we could get you to make a decision. We were just trying to stop him until you got here, boss.”

“You believe the woman, then?”

“We tried to hear his side too, but he didn’t talk. He attacked us!”

Michichika snorted. “Hah. You put hands on me first.” He glared at the fallen brawlers. “That man started it,” he said, pointing to a man on the ground who was hunched in on himself. He folded his arms. “I think he’s related to the woman or something. He was dead set on killing me before I said a word, so I decided that there was no reason to show mercy. I only acted to protect myself.”

“And this is the result,” Tobi said.

“I own that woman,” Michichika said. “And she poisoned me, her kind master! Will you try to protect her from me, too?”

“If you were actually a kind master, she wouldn’t have tried to poison you,” Tobi said.

Michichika burst out laughing. “I didn’t expect to find a Valley boss who was so chivalrous. We are in the Valley. Everything is for sale, including human lives. Surely you know that? I bought that woman’s life, and it is mine. She betrayed me because one of my enemies offered her a reward. That is what happened. Perhaps she learned this pattern of behavior in the Valley. It makes sense to betray anyone if the payout is high enough.”

Tobi bristled.

“What are you implying, you bastard?” a man on the ground asked.

“He’s mocking us!” another shouted.

“He’s talking to me,” Tobi said in the clipped tone. “The rest of you, keep your mouths shut.”

Michichika shrugged. “You value money over morals. You know it and I know it, so give the woman to me and I’ll be on my way.” He gave Tobi a fierce grin. “I can prove that the woman tried to kill me, if you want. It’s my right to punish her as I see fit.”

Tobi had no idea how to resolve this situation. If anyone else had traipsed into the Valley and caused so much damage, Tobi would punish them severely. He shook his head as he considered his meager options for making the problem of Michichika go away. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the Lord of Minami Tachibana, but he also couldn’t cower at the name of a noble. If he caved to Michichika’s demands, he would look weak in front of his men.

King Saku had come to the Valley and instated his own brand of justice because the world above was corrupt. Tobi believed in the Valley’s laws wholeheartedly. They applied to everyone, rich or poor, noble or common. Tobi couldn’t allow Michichika to leave the Valley unpunished with the courtesan who’d fled to this place for protection. No one would choose to follow him if he did that.

“I understand your side of the story,” Tobi said, hand-selecting every word, “but I haven’t heard the courtesan’s side. Bring her to me.”

“Yes, sir,” an underling said. He scurried off to fetch the woman.

“Have you got any tea?” Michichika asked. “I’d like some while we wait.”

He was the picture of arrogance. Tobi wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone he hated more.

***

Midori reached the Valley minutes before sunset. He transformed and descended before the sun slipped behind the ridge of Souke Territory’s central mountain.

The Valley was lined with flimsy paper lanterns hanging in rows. The smells of cheap, burning oil and unwashed people hung in the air. Midori felt like he was coming home, but he had no time to indulge in nostalgia.

Some people noticed Midori’s practice sword and tried to pick a fight with him. He ignored them, running past them when they gave chase.

Midori had come up with a plan while flying to the Valley. Each part of the Valley was ruled by a different boss. He had to find out where Marisato had gone for help first before he did anything else. Some bosses were much more reasonable than others. Midori suspected that Marisato had gone to the largest brothel in the Valley, since that was where nobles went to pluck courtesans out of the Valley to bring them to the world above. Marisato was a courtesan and would certainly know of the place. The boss of that part of the Valley was Tobi, one of the most powerful bosses. He thought it likely that Marisato would appeal to Tobi for help.

The brothel he was looking for was very large and had multiple stories, so it was easy to find. Midori reached it quickly, but the bouncers wouldn’t let him inside. Midori pleaded with them to step aside.

Being a Keisōin cadet worked in his favor. The bouncers didn’t assume that he was here to cause trouble, but they didn’t just let him in, either. They called the brothel madam and instructed Midori to wait.

The brothel madam was an old woman who reminded Midori of the brothel madam he’d called granny during his childhood. Despite her advanced age, she was unbowed. Her eyes were sharp and clear.

“What business do you have here?” the brothel madam asked.

“My name is Midori. I’m a Keisōin cadet. Has a courtesan named Marisato come here recently?”

The brothel madam noted his practice sword and grimaced. “I don’t know. You should go home now, Keisōin cadet.”

Midori was certain that Marisato was somewhere inside. The brothel madam must be lying, but confronting her now would accomplish nothing. He bowed and said, “I have connections to the Minami Tachibana family. Please tell her that I’ve come to help her. She will recognize my name.”

“I told you I don’t know her,” the old woman said. She shooed him away.

Midori held his ground. “It is my fault that she was bought by Michichika of the Minami Tachibana family. I will do anything to save her. Please… please just tell her that I’m here.”

The old woman stared blankly at him for a few seconds. “Are you her lover?” she asked.

“No. But Michichika, the man who bought her, thought I was. She needs help now because of that misunderstanding.” He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth, either. He hoped that the brothel madam couldn’t tell that he was holding something back.

The old woman gave him an unimpressed look. “Fine. Hand over that bamboo sword—you’ll get it back if you behave. And follow me.”

Midori handed over his practice weapon without a second thought.

The old woman nodded her approval and then led Midori into the brothel. Several bouncers followed them through the doors. Midori had expected that, though, so he didn’t complain.

This place was the Valley’s economic heart. Every vice and avenue of trade with the world outside passed through here. There were guards everywhere Midori looked. As the old woman led him through a bewildering maze of passageways, Midori realized that he’d stepped into a fortress. Anyone who tried invade this place would be stymied by the layout of the inside. The road that led to the brothel’s entrance was perfectly straight and inviting, but the inside of the brothel was hostile to outsiders.

Midori’s nervousness grew with every step forward. He could be killed here, and no one would ever know. It wasn’t normal for even a prosperous brothel to employ so many guards and soldiers. He caught sight of the chamber where the Valley bosses met once a month to do business and gasped in dismay. He’d known this brothel was important, but he hadn’t known that it was so vital politically.

The old woman stopped before the chamber doors and asked a guard to lead them further into the labyrinthine building. The guard nodded and started walking, leading them to a torch-lit passage.

Shortly later, they reached their destination, which was a modest-sized audience hall hewn from stone. An imposing man sat on a raised seat near one wall—one of the Valley bosses, most likely. Several other men were clustered around him, speaking in hushed voices.

“Tobi, do you have a moment?” the brothel madam asked.

“What is it, granny?” Tobi asked. He sounded tired. “Who do you have with you?”

“According to him, he’s the one who caused this mess. That’s why I brought him over.”

Tobi’s eyebrows drew together as the old woman approached him. “How did he cause this?” he asked.

“He’s not Marisato’s lover, but the young master who came here assumed he was,” the old woman whispered in Tobi’s ear.

Midori stepped forward and knelt at a respectful distance from Tobi’s seat. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance. I have come from the Minami Tachibana family’s city estate. My name is Midori, and I’m a Keisōin cadet.”

“The Minami Tachibana family just sent a messenger here,” Tobi said.

“They did?” Midori asked. “I do not know what that messenger said, but I cannot imagine anyone is more familiar with the circumstances of this case than I am. I beg you to show mercy to Marisato. None of this is her fault.”

“The Valley’s judgments must be fair,” Tobi said. “I will learn the truth and then make my own ruling. Don’t you dare lie to me, boy.”

Midori paled, but he nodded.

“I’ll tell you this before I listen to your story: the Minami Tachibana family has said that they have no objection to us disposing of Michichika here. As for Marisato, they say they will protect her if we send her back, which they are insisting on.”

Midori wasn’t surprised to hear the contents of the message. He’d been there when Kimichika and his father had decided that they wanted Michichika to die in the Valley.

Tobi and the brothel madam watched Midori’s face carefully, noting his reaction. Midori wished he could see himself from the outside.

“Marisato says that Michichika subjected her to terrible abuse, and that she finally couldn’t endure it any longer and poisoned him. She panicked and fled here after her poisoning attempt was discovered.” Tobi narrowed his eyes. “Here’s the problem. Michichika insists he never laid a hand on Marisato. If what he says is true, it means that his family and Marisato have joined forces to try and kill him. They failed, so now they’re trying to give us cleanup duty and finish what they started. It all smells fishy to me, so I had the old lady examine Marisato.”

Tobi reached into his breast pocket for a report written on a piece of paper. His expression was grim. “Marisato says that the young master tormented her as a hobby, and that it was routine for him to punch and kick her. Sometimes he tore off her nails or burned her skin with hot tongs. She claimed all this, but she has no visible injuries. She must be lying.”

“She’s not lying,” Midori said before he could think. “She wouldn’t…”

Tobi looked amused. “So you’re defending her?”

“No. She really isn’t lying. It’s just… Michichika didn’t abuse her that way, but he was hurting others in those ways. Me, for example.” Midori stood up slowly and peeled his feather robe away from his chest.

Even in the dim light, his half-healed scars were visible.

Tobi gazed at Midori’s bare chest impassively. “I see. She was saying that what was done to you was done to her. I think I understand her motives better now.”

“Huh?”

“She’s pregnant,” Tobi said.

The brothel madam laughed. “That’s right. She’s carrying an egg right now.”

“What?” Midori asked.

“It’s your child, isn’t it?” Tobi asked, his tone teasing.

Midori didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t know what he should say to help Marisato.

In that brief instant, the old woman saw straight through his confusion. “What, so that’s not it? I was certain that your disloyalty had been discovered. I thought you meant to kill the brat so that there’d be no evidence.”

“No,” Midori choked out. “No, I would never do that, never. I’ve never tried to kill Michichika, either. I’m not disloyal.” His voice boomed in the hall.

“Bring the girl here,” Tobi commanded his subordinates.

***

The brothel madam went away. A few minutes later, Marisato arrived in the hall. She was thinner than Midori remembered, and her radiant smile was gone. She looked exhausted and embittered.

“Marisato…” Midori called her name before he could stop himself.

Marisato stopped dead where she stood. “Midori?”

Tobi told her that he knew she had lied about the physical abuse she’d suffered. He also said he knew about her child.

Marisato’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Lord Michichika has told me how he treats Midori. He enjoyed watching my reaction. That’s how I learned why he bought my contract, too; he told me. He doesn’t care about me at all, not even a little. He bought me out of spite, to hurt Midori. I worried that he’d subject the child to terrible things if I remained on that estate.”

“That’s why you tried to kill Michichika?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And now?” Tobi asked.

Marisato groaned. “I want to protect this child, nothing more.”

Tobi sighed heavily. “You should never have agreed to have your contract bought by the Minami Tachibana family,” he said sternly. “We’re all in this mess now because of your stupidity, girl. You never considered the possibility that you’d be used against your friends?”

Chastened by his words, Marisato stayed silent.

Midori bit his lip.

Even if Michichika was cast out—or dead—Marisato’s child would be considered his, and that meant they were a member of the Minami Tachibana family. That family put little value on human life, so there was a distinct possibility that the child would be killed before it hatched or shortly after. Lord Yasuchika had no reason to let Marisato’s child live.

“Please allow me to speak,” Midori said. He was thinking of his foster mothers, the women of the brothel he’d grown up in.

Tobi gave a light nod. “Go ahead.”

“Um… couldn’t we say that the child is mine, and not Michichika’s?”

Marisato lifted her head.

Midori didn’t look at her. He focused his appeal on Tobi. “If you want money, I will pay. As much as you want. Keep Marisato in the Valley and give her guards for protection. She can raise the chick here in safety.”

Marisato pursed her lips. “What a selfish plan. Have I no say in this?”

Midori was surprised by her objection. Marisato was glaring at him now, her eyes burning with anger. He’d never seen her like this before. She was no innocent girl, but a scheming and manipulative woman. The contrast between her false and true faces could not be more stark.

Marisato stroked her belly and said, “You might think you’re being kind, but you’re just an outsider sticking his nose in other people’s business. You and I are not connected in any way. I will not allow you to claim this child as your own; absolutely not. This child is a noble, and they will live as a noble.” She laughed.

Midori was so stunned by her lack of understanding that he could say nothing. Her laugh was such a complicated thing, not joyful, but strangely triumphant. She had planned at least part of this herself. Tobi was right; he was here now because Marisato had made a stupid choice—a selfish choice. One that could easily get her and her child killed.

“Lord Kimichika already knows I’m pregnant,” Marisato said. “He promised that when Lord Michichika is called to the side of the mountain god, he will legitimize the child. He can do that, and he will.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Midori’s voice cracked. “He tried to assassinate his brother! How can you believe that the child will be safe? He will silence you both. You’re far better off here. At least the bosses can be trusted to help you.”

“No, that’s not true,” Marisato said firmly. She looked at Midori with pity and contempt in her gaze. “Someone as fortunate as you could never understand how I feel.”

Midori flinched. Fortunate? Me? He felt like the earth would yawn and swallow him up.

He’d spent months pitying Marisato for being a courtesan, but he was aware that she had a better standard of living than the courtesans of the Valley who’d raised him. She was unfortunate, but he’d never thought she was wretched. He’d thought that he understood her hardship and her stubborn pride better than other men did. He’d hoped that she’d liked him because he’d always treated her with respect and not for any other reason.

Being called fortunate shocked Midori to his core. When had he flown so far from the Valley? Had he forgotten what it was like to be born and raised here? To live with all those cast down by the world above?

Midori opened his mouth to speak, but he had no idea what to say.

Midori’s contempt softened. She faced Tobi and bowed. “I am grateful for your protection,” she said. “I will repay your kindness in the future without fail. Please allow me to accompany the messenger to the Minami Tachibana city estate.”

“This boy is right, you know,” Tobi said. “You might be killed—you and your child.”

“If that happens, it will be my fault for trusting the wrong people,” Marisato said.

Tobi thought things over for a short while. Then he said, “The Valley exists to champion the weak and the downtrodden. Help is offered to those who seek it. If you believe that you do not require our assistance, then you’re free to go, Marisato.”

Marisato bowed more deeply and then straightened up.

Midori could do nothing. Marisato’s fate was decided. He closed his eyes briefly and remembered that there was still one more problem to solve.

“What will you do with Michichika?” Midori asked.

Tobi snorted as he shifted in his seat.

“Will you kill him, Tobi?”

Tobi didn’t answer immediately. He frowned down at Midori. “Don’t tell me that you want him to live after everything he did to you.”

“Not at all. I want him to die as quickly as possible, and I hope it hurts.” Midori had always been honest. He hadn’t murdered Michichika even though he richly deserved it, but he wasn’t obligated to lie about how much he loathed the Keisōin’s most infamous bully.

“It’s just—”

Midori hated Michichika, but that didn’t mean Michichika should die in the Valley on his father’s orders. Was anyone so cruel that they deserved that?

“Boss, we’ve got trouble,” a man said from the doorway.

There was a commotion in the hall outside, and then another man entered. “King Saku wants to see you,” he said. “Come to the main hall at once.” He was out of breath.

“The King wants to see me?” Tobi asked.

“He does.”

Tobi rose from his seat with a scowl.

The messenger glanced briefly at Midori. “Oh. And he said to bring that one with you.”

***

Tobi led Midori through even more tunnels until they reached a hall that was twice as large as the one they’d come from. Along one wall stood an elaborately painted screen that shone with gold leaf. Rice mats were laid out in a circle around this screen; the Valley’s bosses sat here during their shared monthly meetings. King Saku’s seat was higher up and concealed by the screen.

Not all of the bosses were present when Midori and Tobi arrived. Only two men were seated on the rice mats. Their entourages remained standing close to the door.

Midori saw no sign of King Saku in the hall. The seat behind the screen was empty.

“Did I keep you waiting?” a querulous old man asked in a low voice.

Tobi bowed. “King Saku.”

The seated bosses rose to their feet and also bowed.

King Saku was a silver-haired man with a severe expression. Midori had heard many stories about him. He’d assumed that the man would be a giant, larger than life, but he was somewhat slender and frail-looking. His smile was as defiant as Michichika’s. King Saku was old even when Midori was born, but age had not yet dimmed his essential vitality.

Tobi’s entourage guided Midori to a seat behind Tobi’s.

The attention of everyone in the hall sharpened on King Saku as he took his seat. King Saku turned his smile on everyone and then said, “We have guests from the world above today, so I expect all of you louts to be on your best behavior.” He clapped his hands.

Michichika appeared in the doorway. Midori had expected him to have a guard escort or at least to have his hands tied together, but he was free and unaccompanied. He carried himself like he belonged in the hall and didn’t deign to bow to King Saku or any of the Valley’s bosses.

Michichika was in his element. If the rough-looking men all around him made him nervous, he showed no sign of it.

Midori’s heart pounded loudly in his ears as Michichika was led toward King Saku.

“It seems things have gotten a little out of hand,” Michichika said.

“Indeed,” King Saku said. “I didn’t want these problems, you understand, but you’ve brought them to my door. So let’s skip the preamble and cut right to the heart of the matter: you’re going to die here, boy.”

Michichika blinked slowly several times. “You’re King Saku of the Underground. I suppose my father’s bought your compliance the same way he does everyone else’s.” He shrugged.

The men around Michichika bristled at his mocking tone.

King Saku laughed merrily. “Perhaps, but that is a separate matter. Will you plead that you deserve to live and say that no one here bears a grudge against you?”

“A grudge? What kind of grudge?” Michichika asked.

King Saku stopped laughing. “I asked about those present, but we should also consider those who are absent. Three of my bosses have gone missing this year. You killed them, didn’t you? No, don’t answer; we already know it was you.”

Michichika took a step back from King Saku. “They were bandits. That’s what I assumed, anyway. They broke into the Keisōin about a year ago and attacked me. Those men were yours?” Then he smiled. “Of course! That’s why they were so reckless. It’s a shame my father bought them off. They were brave.”

“Their families want revenge,” King Saku said.

“Yes, I suppose they would.”

“And then there’s the gambling incident from two years ago. You cheated my people out of a lot of money,” one of the Valley bosses cut in. “Not only that, but you wrecked the gambling den—you and your companions. I had to rebuild it. I haven’t forgotten that. At the time, we held back out of consideration for the Minami Tachibana family, but they’re not protecting you anymore. Your family has abandoned you, boy, and it’s time for you to pay your debts to the Valley.”

“I am owed something as well,” Tobi said wearily. “This boy beat a dozen of my brawlers so badly that they can barely walk. Some of them might never heal. He’s owed a bit of pain from my people.”

“You went a bit too far with your mischief, boy,” King Saku said. “I called you here because I want to listen to what you have to say in your own defense. I can’t devise a suitable punishment for you unless I know the whole story. If you have something to say, say it now.”

“You’re determined to punish me?” Michichika asked. “Don’t be absurd. Even if I accepted that you have power over me, I’ll never accept a punishment from you. Any punishment you give me will accomplish nothing, anyway. You said I’m here to die—so what? Killing me just means you’re corrupt enough to take my father’s money to kill me. He had to catch me in one of his traps eventually.”

King Saku nodded. “That’s why you’re going to die. We have no reason to let you live.” He didn’t sound angry at Michichika. He raised his hand, and then the men standing near the door lifted their weapons.

A group of men wearing white headbands emerged from behind King Saku’s throne and surrounded Michichika. They pointed their short spears right at him.

Michichika looked around, taking in the size of the space, the number of his attackers, and the weapons they held.

The bosses’ entourage all drew their weapons. Several carried daggers in their sleeves. A few readied short bows. In the confined space, a stray arrow could easily hit an ally, but the men didn’t hesitate.

These men were nothing like the ruffians who guarded the brothel where Midori had grown up. They were trained fighters who were used to bloodshed.

Michichika, as skilled as he was, couldn’t possibly win against all of them. He was weaponless now. To even stand a chance in this fight, he’d need to steal a weapon, which meant getting close to someone and engaging in unarmed combat. If he attempted that, the likely outcome would be a poisoned arrow in his back. He was outmaneuvered, and he knew it.

Even if Michichika somehow fought off all of these attackers and fled, this place was a maze that was crawling with guards and soldiers. He was as good as dead.

Midori arrived at much the same conclusion for the same reasons.

Michichika faced King Saku squarely. “You call yourself the King of the Underground,” he said. “I thought you’d have more finesse, but it seems like you just solve every problem with brute force.”

King Saku grinned. “You misunderstand the Valley and the Underground,” he said. “Violence is a livelihood here. My methods are effective, which is all that should concern you at the moment, boy.”

Michichika addressed the fighters in the hall next. “Anyone who helps me will never have to work again,” he said. “I’ll pay you enough gold for you to be rich for the rest of your life.”

“Don’t push your luck, you noble little shit,” one fighter jeered.

No one offered to help Michichika.

Michichika frowned. “I see. No traitors here, huh?”

“Unfortunately for you, no,” King Saku said.

Michichika faced King Saku again. “If you truly intend to kill me, then I will resist. At least some of your people will suffer. Some might die.”

“Naturally.”

“You don’t care about that?”

“I don’t care. We’ll keep chipping away at you until you’re dead.”

“I could kill you,” Michichika said.

King Saku grinned broadly. “You can try. I like your spirit, boy. It’s too bad you’re not walking out of here alive.”

Midori rested his head in his hands. If he did nothing, Michichika would die. He might die, too—who knew what would happen to him now?

His mind kept circling around one question: Did Michichika deserve to die here? He definitely deserved to die in general, but this manner of death… It was not just. It was not fair.

“Wait,” Midori said.

Tobi tried to silence him, but he shook the man off and ran toward King Saku, showing his hands in the hope that he wouldn’t be attacked. Ignoring the wide-eyed Michichika and the angry men pointing spears at him, he knelt before King Saku.

“I know some things that should be shared,” he said. “Those three bosses—I know for a fact that they attacked Michichika first. There were witnesses who said that they attacked while he was sleeping. It is not fair to punish him for defending himself in that case.”

The spearmen were about to stab Midori, but King Saku gestured for them to freeze. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Midori, a Keisōin cadet.”

“Michichika has beaten you senseless countless times, and yet you defend him?”

“I’m not defending him,” Midori said. “I wouldn’t mind if he died. But the only reason I’m alive now is because I never tried to kill him. He doesn’t kill anyone if they don’t give him a reason to. That’s his line, and he’s never crossed it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I want to know why you want to kill him,” Midori said, his voice tinged with desperation. “It is not just to kill him here and now.”

Midori believed that the Valley was essentially just and right. He had to believe that. He didn’t want the Valley to be a place where people were killed senselessly and without cause.

If Michichika was going to be killed here, he wanted that death to be the result of a just and fair process. Having him die because of a stupid, ugly quarrel between nobles would be profoundly unsatisfying.

“You hold the Valley in high regard,” King Saku said gravely. “You’re correct. It is not just. This is disgraceful for us, who pride ourselves on our strength. It is cowardice to stab a man in the back because you failed to kill him in a duel. What we are doing right now is picking a fight with someone who has only reacted to our own actions. Michichika has never attacked us directly himself. Consequently, it is unjust to kill him here.”

“Does that mean—”

“No. He will still die. There are plenty of reasons why he deserves death.”

Midori stared blankly up at King Saku.

King Saku laughed cheerfully. “You and that idiot over there both suffer from a few common misconceptions. You assume that the Valley is ruled by reason and logic. It’s not. It’s ruled by me.”

Midori flinched.

Michichika asked, “Huh?”

“Our governance of the Valley appears reasonable for the most part, so you assume it is,” King Saku said. “The reason Michichika will die is that he flouts my authority. Not killing him for that would make me appear weak in the eyes of those I rule.” His tone was mild and patient.

Midori felt like the air itself was getting heavier as he listened to King Saku condemn Michichika.

“Hey, Michichika,” King Saku said. “You disrespect me and my authority, but that’s a habit for you, isn’t it? You don’t respect anything or anyone except yourself. You just do whatever you want, don’t you? You never think about others. I don’t like that about you, and that’s why I’m going to have you killed here.”

Michichika slowly blinked. “I’ve never really…” He trailed off and then scratched his head, defeated in every way that mattered. “I’ve never thought about it that way. It’s true that I just do whatever I want, but…”

“Did you think that, given your status, you would be forgiven for your conduct?”

Michichika said nothing. He looked at King Saku impassively and said, “Of course I don’t expect to be forgiven. I’ve never asked for forgiveness.”

“You said that any punishment I give you will accomplish nothing. If you meant to emphasize that there is no karmic justice in retribution, you’re correct. The mountain god doesn’t punish evil people or reward good people. Only people punish other people. That’s all there is, and that is my role here: to distribute punishments and rewards as I see fit.”

Michichika listened without interrupting. Then he muttered, “One who rules by force is in turn ruled by a greater force.” He stood up straighter and said, “When I first heard that, I thought it was a stupid thing to say, but maybe I’ve been the idiot all along?”

He straightened his shoulders. “I thought I was a good noble and a good son. I couldn’t understand why my father tried to kill me the first time he tried. And no matter how many times I asked why, no one would answer me. Do you know the reason?”

“Your old man hates you. That’s probably the reason,” King Saku said casually. “Those who hold power are easily resented. Authority is one form of power, but it’s not the concept of power itself. Power needs support to be real. Your father fights to protect his base of support, and you don’t even realize that such a thing exists. I can imagine how irritated he is with you.”

“Power needs support,” Michichika repeated speculatively.

“Do you understand that now? The situation you’re in is a prime example,” King Saku said, gesturing to his subordinates. “If all these men entered the room knowing nothing about either of us except that we opposed each other, they would still choose to follow me over you.”

“Why?”

“You don’t behave like a leader. You are a rogue individual with no one supporting you.”

“Oh.”

“You’re also unfortunate enough to be a discarded noble in the Valley,” King Saku said. “Nobles are strong where you come from, right? But not here. We have no nobles here. Everyone is born equal—and weak. We cannot survive without helping one another. Cooperation is our strength. You’ve never had to cooperate with a single other person, and that’s why you grew up to be a heartless bastard.

“But now your family has abandoned you, and you are weak for the first time in your life,” King Saku drawled.

Michichika tilted his head slightly, his eyes vacant. “Am I weak?”

“You’re about to die, so I’d say so.”

“That’s true.” Michichika nodded. Then he lifted his face to the sky and let out a long sigh. “I can’t argue with that,” he said. “I can’t complain even though you’re going to kill me. How irksome.”

King Saku laughed. “You’re still a boy. It’s good that you understand the situation you’re in. It’ll be much easier for everyone if you do as you’re told and hold still.” His gaze shifted to Midori. “You… you’re Hamidori’s son, are you not?”

“You knew my mother?” Midori asked.

“You are like she was. She was very strong-willed, you see. To think that you would be here in the Valley after she escaped here with you… perhaps this is the fate she desired for you.”

Midori felt like King Saku was staring right through him.

King Saku took a dagger from his breast pocket and tossed it to him. “Out of everyone here, the one most suited to make Michichika suffer is you. You punishing him would be fair and just.” He raised his hand and then lowered it in an imperious gesture. “Stab him.”

Midori gaped in shock. “M-me?”

“That’s right. That’s what fits best with the logic and justice you keep harping on about.”

“But killing him is—”

“I’m compromising for your sake. Depending on where you stab, he might live.”

“Huh?”

King Saku laughed again and then faced Michichika. “If you move the wrong way, I’ll definitely kill you. You’d rather have a chance at living, right? So sit still and take the punishment you’ve earned.”

Michichika grinned wryly and spread his arms, no threat in him.

Midori didn’t move.

One of the young men in Tobi’s entourage picked up the dagger from the floor, forced Midori to his feet, and shoved it into his hands.

Midori looked back and forth between the dagger and Michichika.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Midori asked softly. “I said I didn’t want to. I said it over and over—that I hated it, and that you should stop. But you didn’t stop. You even dragged Marisato into this…”

Michichika blinked, but he didn’t argue back.

“Apologize.” Midori looked him in the eyes. He had always wanted to make Michichika apologize for all the things he’d done, but he’d never dared to command him to do it. Until now, Michichika would have brushed such a demand to the side. He would have asked why he should apologize.

But now…

“I’m sorry,” Michichika said. “I was wrong. There’s no reason why I did what I did, but it was all wrong. I know that now. If I’m going to be stabbed by anyone, you have the most justification. So go ahead.”

Michichika didn’t look or sound particularly apologetic, but he also didn’t move to threaten Midori or anyone else.

Midori stood still with the dagger in his hand, feeling completely ridiculous. “No,” he said. “I won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Michichika asked.

Midori threw the dagger down. Why was everyone always trying to get him to kill Michichika?

Michichika’s eyes widened.

“Shut up!” Midori shouted. “I hate you. I want you to die as painfully as possible, but I’m not going to kill you. Got that? Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not that I can’t kill you. I just won’t. You’ll probably never understand the difference as long as you live.”

He glared sharply toward King Saku. “You said that it would be just and fair for me to punish him, King Saku. I have decided not to kill him. So please, end this farce. I beg of you.”

King Saku appeared amused, like a man watching a play. “Bring in our guest,” he said languidly.

Before Midori could process what was happening, Instructor Seiken was hauled forward from behind a gold-painted folding screen. He was bound and gagged.

Midori gasped. “Instructor Seiken!”

He ran over to the instructor. The men around Seiken stepped away from him after cutting his hands free and removing the gag. His mouth, bright red, looked painfully raw.

“Why are you here?” Midori asked.

“You’re not the only one who came here to beg them to spare Michichika’s life,” King Saku said.

Instructor Seiken coughed and spluttered.

“He came as a messenger from the Keisōin. He was making a fuss about wanting his cadet back, so I had him silenced for a bit. I don’t care if Michichika dies immediately. We’re not in a hurry here. The good instructor here was so earnest that I had him brought in to see all this before I made my final decision regarding his fate.”

“And what is your decision, King Saku?” Midori asked.

“In this world, there are people whose only path forward in life is death. They march toward death and bring it to those around them,” King Saku said. “Many people can’t avoid that ending for themselves. The Valley takes in castoffs like that—people with nowhere else to go who would die anywhere else. I wanted to know if Michichika was like us, or if we would have to kill him to shut his family up.”

“No matter what kind of person he is, Michichika doesn’t deserve to die,” Instructor Seiken rasped.

Midori was startled, but he didn’t interrupt.

Seiken stood up straight and faced King Saku. “I’m sure the Valley is full of despicable villains that I can’t even imagine. But no one is born evil. Evil is made, not born. Children are not to blame for their nature. The fault falls on the adults who raised and guided them.”

“A predictable response from a teacher.” King Saku chuckled. “I can see a use for a person like you wherever you go, but Michichika has no utility and no place in life. Isn’t that reason enough to kill him?” His smile was not sarcastic, but full of genuine glee.

The veins stood out on Seiken’s forehead.

King Saku regarded him as if he were an angry kitten. “I have decided otherwise, however. Let me be clear: I cannot send Michichika back to the world above without any punishment, but I am willing to spare his life because of Midori’s and Instructor Seiken’s pleas. I will take an arm, and we will all be satisfied.”

“No,” Instructor Seiken said inflexibly. “Take my arm instead.”

Michichika’s jaw dropped.

Tobi’s entourage and others in the room whispered to one another in alarm.

King Saku’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? I’ll be taking your dominant arm.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Instructor Seiken!” Midori yelled. “Don’t do this! All of this is Michichika’s fault, so let him be punished. He deserves to be taught a lesson. You don’t deserve to be punished at all!”

“I can’t allow that,” Seiken said mildly. “I’d be a poor teacher if I sat by and watched a cadet’s arm be cut off.” He slipped his hand out of one sleeve and prepared a makeshift tourniquet with his feather robe.

“That won’t do,” King Saku said. “The feather robe can unravel if the owner can’t concentrate because of the pain. Someone lend this man some woven cloth.”

One of the young men hesitantly offered his sash to Instructor Seiken.

“Thank you for your kindness.” Seiken smiled and then wrapped his upper arm tightly with the cloth.

People moved around him like agitated bees in a hive. Some took torches down from the wall. Others used them to heat their blades. Still others brought in straw mats and medicine.

Midori swallowed heavily.

“What… what’s happening?” Michichika asked. He stood alone in the center of the chaos, utterly bewildered. “Why are you helping me? What do you get out of it?” he asked Seiken.

Seiken laughed. “Nothing at all,” he said. “But I’m choosing to do this anyway. It’s a matter of principle.”

“No one loses an arm because of principles,” Michichika spat. “You must benefit from this in some way. Power, if it’s real, is supported. You’re using this to gain support and sympathy for yourself, aren’t you?”

Seiken shrugged. “If it helps you to think of things in terms of loss and gain, then explain my behavior as a hobby. I am a hobbyist of principles. I do this because it is my habit.”

“That makes even less sense,” Michichika said.

Seiken shifted his gaze from Michichika to Midori. “Midori will not kill you. To save your arm, I will cut off my own. Do you know why?”

“I don’t know,” Michichika said.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Seiken said speculatively. “Keep thinking about it. The complexity of the thought exercise should teach you something.”

Michichika fell silent and looked at his feet.

Seiken laughed again. “The world is more complicated than you think, and the human heart is unfathomable. That’s why they’re so interesting. You never know what might happen. Anything is possible.”

Michichika’s eyes widened. There was a light in them that could have signaled curiosity—or fear. Before he could speak, the preparations around them were completed.

Midori pleaded with King Saku’s men to step back and stop this madness, but they kept coming. A few young men dragged Midori away from Seiken so that he couldn’t interfere.

Seiken stepped forward and offered his arm. “Do it.”

Seiken’s arm was swiftly cut off by King Saku’s men.

***

Seiken lost his right arm from the shoulder down. Immediately afterward, he developed a high fever and nearly died. Midori wept at his bedside until he recovered.

After that, Seiken returned to the Keisōin and kept teaching. The Minami Tachibana family didn’t reproach Seiken for his actions, but neither did they reward him.

Marisato was taken in by the Minami Tachibana family. She settled into the role of a concubine to Lord Yasuchika, and the child she bore was granted a family registry as his third son. Given their positions, Midori would likely never be able to associate closely with Marisato again. All he could do now was pray that she would be happy.

As for Michichika… after Seiken lost his arm, Michichika never lashed out violently toward others. Midori didn’t know what he and his father had negotiated, but he noticed that there were no more assassins sent after Michichika.

Michichika cured of violence was simply brilliant. He apologized to his peers and instructors for his past rudeness and began to treat his juniors with respect. He was a perfect cadet. During the Trees’ year, he was greatly liked by the Seeds, who knew nothing of his atrocities from previous years. Many people wanted to serve Michichika and his family in the future because of his conduct.

Midori could scarcely tolerate watching all this fawning. Seeing the change in Michichika made him feel like he was grinding bitter insects in his teeth. He knew that no one’s true nature could change so easily. Michichika’s behavior had improved, but deep down, he was still the same person. That meant he was still as cruel as before to those he deemed useless and that he placed no value whatsoever on human life. He hid these pieces of himself better, but Midori had no doubt that they were still there, lurking beneath the surface of his skin. Everyone else might be deceived, but not Midori.

Michichika graduated at the top of his class in the Keisōin. No trace of the problem child he’d been remained in him. He no longer acted violently toward Midori or anyone else… with one exception.

Midori’s eyesight worsened over time because of the injury he’d given himself when he was young. The vision in his injured eye was nearly gone, and his other eye was strained as he tried to compensate for it. He managed to make it to graduation without being found out, but his performance in swordsmanship, archery that required shooting down moving targets, and mounted mock battles steadily declined.

After graduation, Midori joined the Yamauchishu and believed himself safe. Then Michichika visited him one day and poked him in his injured eye.

Midori screamed and cursed him while tending to his eye.

Michichika pulled a face. “If I hadn’t done that, you’d never quit the Yamauchishu.”

His words proved prophetic. Midori’s eye kept getting worse and worse, and eventually he was forced to retire from active service. It was fortunate that he was permitted to serve as an instructor at the Keisōin thanks to his high marks in strategy class. Seiken guided him during his first few years of teaching as an assistant instructor until he was accepted as a full instructor.

All Midori had ever wanted from the Keisōin was noble status. He’d never wanted to be a Yamauchishu for its own sake, so teaching at the Keisōin suited him fine. He liked and respected Seiken, so he followed in his footsteps, took religious vows, and became a full-time Keisōin instructor.

Midori took Suikan as his priesthood name.^ Seiken had come up with it for him. Considering his anxiety about his eyesight, it was probably for the best that he was now able to live in the familiar Keisōin for the rest of his life, if he so chose.

When he was accepted as an assistant instructor, he was furious when Michichika sent him a pair of spectacles to mark the occasion. The glasses were delivered to the Keisōin in a paulownia box lined with silk. The rims were inlaid with clear green stones. A silver chain formed a loop so that Suikan could wear the glasses around his neck.

Seiken smiled, amused, when he saw Suikan so out of sorts.

“How dare he come here and do this,” Suikan fumed. “He has no right.”

Seiken examined the spectacles. “The shop that these come from deals in the finest products of the capital. If you take these there, they should be able to make fine adjustments to help you see better. It’s a major establishment, so I’m sure the bill can be sent to Michichika. You could go on your next day off.”

“The thought that these came from him makes me sick.”

“Oh? You dislike them?”

“Objects bear no guilt, so I will accept them,” he said, grimacing.

Seiken laughed brightly.

Michichika occasionally visited the Keisōin after he graduated. Suikan did his best to avoid him, but Seiken welcomed his visits and spent as much time as he could leisurely drinking tea with him.

One time, when Suikan went to Seiken’s room to have him check over a lecture’s content, he ran into Michichika in the hallway and nearly screamed.

Michichika paid no attention to his reaction. “I’ve been wandering all this time, you know,” he said with artificial good cheer. “I’m looking for the right one to serve, and I think I finally found him.”

Michichika is not capable of serving anyone, Suikan thought but didn’t say. He nodded to indicate that he was listening. “Good for you. Who is this person, then?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Michichika grinned from ear to ear. “Prince Natsuka. He was recently deposed as Crown Prince and stepped down in favor of his younger brother. Have you heard of him?”

Translator's Note

Suikan means “green” (the kanji is the same as the one used in Midori when Yasuchika granted him a new name) and “lenient” or “gentle.” The latter kanji contains the radical “to see” rather prominently in the bottom half.

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