Yatagarasu Series
Volume 1:
Ravens Shouldn't
Wear Kimono
Author: Chisato Abe
Part 2: Summer
Section 3
Listen to this chapter!
“I am truly, deeply sorry!”
One of the Yamauchishu thrust the boy’s head to the floor as he apologized over and over again.
This was a formal audience in Wisteria Hall. The Empress was present, as was Princess Fujinami. Both sat behind bamboo screens.
“You are Sumio of the Yamauchishu, is that correct?” Empress Oumurasaki asked calmly from her raised throne. “It is a crime for men to set foot in Sakura Palace without permission. I understand that this boy is underage, but he must still be punished for this transgression. Why did he do such a thing?”
Sumio nodded in acknowledgment. He had been the first of the Yamauchishu to arrive at the cooling platform during the disturbance. He had an unusually dark complexion and was somewhat short for an imperial guard, but his eyes were sharp and wary, and he carried himself like a warrior.
“I thank you for the opportunity to speak,” Sumio said. “First, I feel it is important to understand that this attendant had no ill intent. This was an embarrassing accident for both Sakura Palace and the Crown Prince.”
“An accident? Explain your meaning,” the Empress said.
“Yes. The attendant will explain it himself.”
The boy nodded cautiously. He was sweating from nerves. He didn’t seem accustomed to high-stress situations like this one. He knew that he must speak, but he appeared confused about how to proceed.
“When I entered Sakura Palace, I was with the Crown Prince,” the boy said. “I was given the honor of accompanying him to the afternoon ceremony.”
“Where is my brother now?” Princess Fujinami asked. “His schedule was confirmed in advance. He should be here by now.”
The boy nodded. “Yes, Princess Fujinami. That is why I am here now. I bear a letter to you from His Majesty the Crown Prince. It is an urgent message, so I transformed and flew here. I’m not used to flying, though. I got tired and stopped to rest my wings. I thought I would rest outside the palace and then present myself to you with the message. By the time I realized that I had already entered the grounds of Sakura Palace, it was too late for me to retreat.” He was almost in tears as he explained what had happened.
Sumio spoke up to cover the boy’s lapse in stoic decorum. “The Crown Prince can confirm this state of events,” he said. “Before any request for aid came from Sakura Palace, I had received a message from the Crown Prince. It said, ‘My attendant will be flying to Sakura Palace, so please do not mistakenly capture him.’ If he had entered through the Midsummer Gate, there would have been no problem. I ask for leniency in this matter, given the circumstances.”
The assembled personages of Wisteria Hall had more interest in the Crown Prince’s message to Princess Fujinami than they did in the wretched boy.
One of the Empress’ ladies-in-waiting asked, “What became of the letter that the attendant carried? The one from the Crown Prince to Princess Fujinami? Was it lost or damaged?”
The boy shook his head. “No. I carried it in a sealed letter box. The letter should be fine.” He produced the slim box from a pocket sleeve. It was lacquered and secured with a purple silk ribbon. He presented the box to Princess Fujinami.
Takimoto, Princess Fujinami’s attendant, accepted the letter on the princess’ behalf. She slipped behind the bamboo screen that Fujinami sat behind and gave her the letter box.
Princess Fujinami opened the letter box. There was a single piece of pale purple paper inside. Fujinami read her brother’s message, and then sighed in disappointment.
“What is it?” the Empress asked.
“It seems that my brother will not be able to come to Sakura Palace today.”
“That is… unfortunate.”
This was supposed to be a grand opportunity for all the duchesses to meet the Crown Prince in person, and vice versa. Having this chance ripped away so suddenly was a severe disappointment.
The boy sensed the darkening mood of Wisteria Hall and became even more nervous, if possible. “Um, so… what will happen to me?”
The Empress sighed. “You are an attendant of the Crown Prince, and you have not yet come of age. The fault for the message’s unfortunate delivery falls on the Crown Prince, not you. We cannot reprimand a child with corporal punishment. Tell the Crown Prince that he owes us a favor.”
The boy’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. I apologize for the trouble I have caused.” He bowed low once more, and then Sumio helped him to his feet and escorted him out of Wisteria Hall.
“To think that such a thing would happen,” Ukogi said, clicking her tongue. “I would have preferred for you to find out about all this in some other way.”
“What do you mean?” Asebi asked. She hadn’t spoken a word while the boy was being questioned, but Wisteria Hall was now bubbling with whispered conversations. “I never knew people turned into horses… or is it the other way around? Are they all the same? Are they Yatagarasu?” she asked, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar word.
“Yes.”
“But what does that mean?” Asebi asked.
Ukogi raised an eyebrow. “I suppose we must start somewhere. Horses are… related to the Yatagarasu, you could say. Once we were all part of the same family, very long ago. Nobles can spend their entire lives without transforming once. For most common people, that isn’t possible. There are those like the Yamauchishu and the Fujimiyaren who only assume their bird forms to fight or in times of emergency. But there are many more people who work as horses for a living, unable to find other work. That’s why calling someone a horse became an insult to people of lower status.”
This was truly shocking. Asebi had always thought that a horse was just a horse, and a Yatagarasu noble was just a Yatagarasu noble. Class stratification and prejudices were as horrifying to her as the boy’s transformation into a bird had been.
“No way! How could anyone possibly change into a bird?” Asebi asked.
“You could too, if you really wanted to,” Hamayū said smoothly.
Asebi gaped at her. Hamayū shrugged.
“Why do you think we’re born from eggs? We’re related to birds. Isn’t that obvious?” Hamayū asked.
Ukogi nodded. “Indeed. That is why the people entrusted with raising children in the palace are called ‘feather mothers.’ They take the place of the birth mother, holding the egg and warming it with their wings. They protect the eggs as if they were their own, in their feathered forms. Hence the term ‘feather mother.’”
“I… I really, truly didn’t know any of this,” Asebi said, blushing in embarrassment.
“Well, nobles don’t like to admit that they have a wild bird nature,” Hamayū said. “It’s understandable that they’d want to hide it, but…” her voice trailed off.
“But… what?” Asebi asked.
Hamayū looked at Asebi with an exasperated expression. “You know that the Emperor’s formal title is Golden Raven, right? The Golden Raven is at the top of the pecking order among Yatagarasu nobles. It’s less well known that the full formal title is Substitute Golden Raven. In the past, the Golden Raven was not decided by birthright. It is now just accepted that the Emperor is a stand-in for a true Golden Raven.”
Asebi frowned in confusion. She didn’t understand the functional distinction between the true Golden Raven and a stand-in or a substitute.
Hamayū laughed at Asebi’s puckered frown. “The Golden Raven is not a Yatagarasu noble,” Hamayū said. “It is a completely different kind of creature. Previous Emperors have all believed that, at least.”
“A completely different kind of creature?” Asebi echoed.
Hamayū explained some of the history and context that Asebi was lacking.
Yatagarasu nobles had a strong connection to the daily cycle of sunrise and sunset. There was a common legend that stated that Yatagarasu were direct descendants of the sun. They lost their ability to transform at night, and if they accidentally remained in bird form after sunset, they would lose their vision.
But that wasn’t true of a Kin'u—a true Golden Raven. Kin'u could fly freely at night with no consequences. They could transform at will at any time of day. Historical records had marked the births of true Golden Ravens in the imperial family, though such births were rare. One Golden Raven might be born in three generations.
Because true Golden Ravens were so rare, they became the next Emperors of Yamauchi by default as a matter of law, regardless of who their parents were or how many elder siblings they had. It had been a long time since the last true Golden Raven was born, so this law was perceived as somewhat antiquated. That was why the birth of the current Crown Prince—a true Golden Raven—had caused such an uproar in the imperial court. Emperors had been decided by birthright inheritance for generations—until now.
“So, the Crown Prince is—”
“—a true Golden Raven. Yes. At least, that’s the rumor. To think that you came here to be his potential bride without even knowing that much, Duchess Asebi,” Masuho no Susuki said coldly. “It boggles the mind.”
Asebi blanched. She’d been paying so much attention to Hamayū’s explanation that she hadn’t noticed the Nishiie duchess’ approach. “Masuho no Susuki…”
Masuho no Susuki gave Hamayū a sour frown. “You missed a few things,” she said. “For one thing, Yatagarasu nobles and wild Yatagarasu are totally different. If you can’t even tell the difference, then there is definitely something strange about you as a noblewoman.”1 Her tone was sharp, edged with thorns.
Asebi saw no reason for Masuho no Susuki to speak in such a hostile tone. “Yatagarasu are Yatagarasu,” she said. “There was a time when people who work as horses now were the same as us, right?”
“The moment they assumed the form of a bird, they became different from us! Isn’t that obvious?” Masuho no Susuki asked, her voice growing louder and less controlled as she spoke. “That is the bare minimum that you should know as a duchess! I am sorry, but I must disparage the quality of your education. You lack the refinement expected of someone who would associate with the Crown Prince.”
“Masuho no Susuki,” Shiratama cut in quietly, “enough. There is no need for you to be so harsh with her.”
Masuho no Susuki shook her head. “I am not wrong. Her education is lacking. It’s possible that even some of the common people know more than her about certain things. She’s no better than a karasudayū.” She sneered in contempt.
Asebi gasped internally at hearing the unknown word karasudayū again. “Excuse me, but what is a karasudayū?”
“You don’t know the old story?” Hamayū asked. She glared openly at Masuho no Susuki and Chanohana. Then she raised one finger and pointed at the ceiling. “There’s a picture of one up there. You’ll see several paintings of them in Sakura Palace. That depicts the origin of karasudayū.”
“Oh,” Asebi said. “And what is that origin?”
“Long ago, before Sakura Palace was built, there was a princess from a fallen family. She found an injured bird and nursed the bird back to health. When the bird recovered, she asked the princess what she wished for as a token of gratitude. The princess replied that she wanted to meet a young prince that she had seen once before. She longed for a reunion, even if it would only last a moment.
“One day, while the princess was bathing, the bird took the princess’ robes in her beak and deliberately flew past the young prince. Curious, the prince chased after the bird and discovered the princess as she was drying her hair. The prince was instantly smitten, and he proposed to the princess on the spot.
“But when the bird saw the princess dressed in her wedding finery, she immediately forgot the kindness she had received and regretted bringing the couple together. The bird then plotted to break off the engagement. She transformed into a beautiful woman who looked very like the princess. The bird tried to seduce the young prince, hoping to make the princess forsake him.
“But the young prince was already deeply in love with the true princess, so he paid the impostor no attention. For her part, the princess refused to believe any of the scandalous rumors that the bird was spreading about the young prince.
“In the end, the bird tried to kidnap the princess and escape, but the prince caught the bird, tied her wings, and cast her off a cliff. The palace built atop that cliff was dedicated to the true princess. This is the origin of both Sakura Palace and karasudayū.”
“I see,” Asebi said, nodding. The term karasudayū described the wicked bird’s disguise.
“The commoners know this story, too,” Hamayū said. “There are several plays based on it. It’s considered a classic.”
Masuho no Susuki sneered in contempt. “Since you probably don’t know, I’ll tell you. A karasudayū is a person who hides their true, ugly self behind a beautiful façade. As the bird’s lies were exposed, everyone learned how false and deceitful she was. The bird becomes a source of comic relief in the play because her lies are so obvious that they’re amusing.”
Chanohana approached Asebi as Masuho no Susuki was speaking. She gave Asebi a critical appraisal, looking her up and down. “Well, well. This one has some musical talent, but that’s all. She is much like a karasudayū. The Crown Prince will not take any interest in her. She has no reason to carry herself with pride.” Chanohana nodded to herself. “I believe you should see one of the karasudayū plays yourself, Duchess Asebi,” she said. “It will be good for you to watch and understand your many shortcomings.”
The sharp sound of Ukogi knocking Chanohana’s fan out of her hand startled Asebi. Chanohana’s eyes went wide as the fan slipped from her chubby hand.
“How dare you?!” Chanohana cried out. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“I could ask the same thing!” Ukogi yelled back. “Apologize to Duchess Asebi at once!”
“You are the ones at fault, trying to compete with Duchess Shiratama! The Empress herself said that there was a karasudayū in the palace! I merely spoke on behalf of the Empress and the duchess I serve. I have said nothing insulting.”
“Enough, both of you. Please calm down,” Kikuno interjected. She stepped between the two, who looked ready to come to blows.
“The Empress can speak for herself,” Hamayū said lightly.
Chanohana and Ukogi snapped back to their senses. They glanced up at the raised dais where the Empress sat. They saw the shadow of the slow movement of a fan from behind the bamboo screen that concealed the Empress from view.
“I say, that was a far more interesting spectacle than any karasudayū play I’ve ever seen,” the Empress said. She laughed.
Ukogi reddened. So did Chanohana. They looked down at their feet in shame.
“With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty,” Chanohana began.
The Empress cut her off immediately. “It is not respectful to speak for someone who is present. Do not drag my good name into your petty quarrels.”
Chanohana’s mouth closed sharply.
“You misrepresent my words with malice,” the Empress continued. “I have never said that Duchess Asebi was a karasudayū. The karasudayū could just as easily be your mistress, the Duchess of Hokke. I am astonished at your carelessness.”
Chanohana’s jaw dropped. “What is your meaning, Your Imperial Majesty?”
“You know what I said. Do not make me repeat myself. Consider my words carefully.” With that, Empress Oumurasaki rose swiftly and silently to her feet. She left Wisteria Hall in haste.
Ukogi exchanged uncomfortable glances with Chanohana, Hamayū and Masuho no Susuki. Only then did she realize that Asebi was missing.
“Duchess Asebi?” Ukogi asked. “Where did Duchess Asebi go?”
Hamayū pointed her chin in the direction of the Spring Hall. “She left when you two started fighting. Poor girl.”
“Masuho no Susuki and Chanohana, at least have the grace to be ashamed of yourselves,” Princess Fujinami fumed. She’d remained silent until now, but she hadn’t left the hall.
All the color drained from Chanohana’s face as she took in Princess Fujinami’s enraged expression.
Masuho no Susuki remained sullenly silent and made no response to Princess Fujinami’s reprimand.
Translator's Notes
1 Yamagarasu (山烏) and miyagarasu (宮烏) make another appearance here, with a bit more context. The first term is the derogatory descriptor used to describe the simple clothes on Asebi’s doll. The second referred to noble or imperial clothing on Masuho no Susuki’s doll. Yamagarasu more broadly is a pejorative adjective for poor or common people, and miyagarasu is a positive adjective reserved entirely for Yatagarasu nobles. ↩
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