Yatagarasu Series
Volume 1:
Ravens Shouldn't
Wear Kimono
Author: Chisato Abe
Part 4: Winter
Section 1
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The name “Shiratama” has quite a story behind it.1
Shiratama was a dazzlingly beautiful young girl, raised to be as strong and lovely as her name. She shone with radiant elegance wherever she went.
Compared to Yamauchi’s other domains, Hokke had few products to export. Its soil was rocky and its climate was cold, so it was difficult for people to make a living via agriculture. The north made its money through warfare. Many sons grew up to be warriors because they had few other choices.
Hokke contributed more soldiers and guards to the imperial family’s ranks than any other noble family in Yamauchi. Hokke embraced this tradition, placing great importance and honor on military affairs. In the imperial court, it was commonly said that court nobles from Hokke had rough manners and lacked appreciation for culture and refinement. Most male court nobles serving Saike or Touke had a concubine or three in addition to their wives, but in Hokke this was rare. Fidelity and loyalty, so important in military culture, bled over into social life in Hokke.
Because of this rare kind of loyalty, men from other lands spread rumors that the women of Hokke were less beautiful than elsewhere. The rumors became so widespread that Hokke internalized them. Even their own court nobles would claim that women were lovelier elsewhere. This wrongheaded idea was used to justify the fact that no Emperor had married a Hokke duchess in many generations.
The court nobles of Hokke eventually tired of hearing rumors disparaging the beauty of their women. They resorted to a rather desperate measure to put an end to those rumors: they bought the freedom of the most celebrated courtesan in the imperial city’s pleasure district and wed her to the Lord of Hokke.
Shiratama’s mother was called Mutsu no Hana.2 When Mutsu no Hana was born, she resembled her father far more than her mother. She went to Sakura Palace as a duchess, but she was not selected as the Emperor’s bride.
Mutsu no Hana suffered from the curse of high expectations. The disappointment of the Hokke family was immense when Mutsu no Hana wasn’t chosen. They had elevated a courtesan, and all for nothing.
In this atmosphere of frustration and profound disappointment, Shiratama was born. Shiratama was a beautifully picturesque infant. She had huge eyes, lustrous black hair, and pure white skin. Her head was perfectly round. She shone like a precious jewel. From birth, people said she was the spitting image of her courtesan grandmother.
Mutsu no Hana had wed into a branch family of Hokke after her return from Sakura Palace. After Shiratama’s birth, she was called back to Hokke’s main estate. Shiratama became the adopted daughter of the Lord of Hokke.
Shiratama’s beauty was unusual in Hokke and afforded her special treatment that she didn’t understand until she was much older. Her military family guarded her like a clam protects a precious pearl. She became famous throughout Hokke territory and then throughout Yamauchi for her exceptional loveliness. When she turned thirteen, it was formally decided that she would go to Sakura Palace as the third duchess of Hokke.
When her father informed her of this, Shiratama didn’t show any surprise. Instead, she thought, So the time has finally come. She bowed her head with a sense of solemnity. Before she’d had any awareness of the outside world at all, she’d been told that she would go to Sakura Palace someday. Far from feeling that thirteen was too young, she felt as if she had been waiting too long for this day to arrive.
As the day of her departure approached, preparations became increasingly hectic. Much had been done already, but it always seemed like more needed doing. Her maids and ladies-in-waiting rushed to and fro like bubbles as they packed everything for Shiratama.
Shiratama tired of the hustle and bustle and slipped away to a quiet corner. She leaned against a railing on a walkway and sighed.
“Are you tired, duchess?” a young man asked. He was in the garden below her, looking up at the walkway. He gave her a wry grin. This young man was Kazumi. He was the son of a gardener who had served Hokke for most of his life.
Their social statuses were much different, but Kazumi had been Shiratama’s friend before she’d understood what social status meant. They had often met in this quiet place in the garden. Very few people ever came here.
Kazumi congratulated her for being selected to go to Sakura Palace. “I wanted to tell you before, but…” He looked down.
Shiratama covered her ears with her hands. “No more congratulations!” she said. “I’m so sick of them. I’ve heard it all before, and hearing it from you doesn’t make me happy at all.” She sulked and then took her hands away from her ears. She expected Kazumi to offer her comforting words, as usual. She waited for him to approach—to reach up and pat the top of her head in a soothing gesture—but that gesture never came.
“Kazumi?” she asked.
“Duchess.” There was pain in his voice.
Shiratama looked up, startled.
Kazumi was looking at her through weary eyes. His expression was more severe than she’d ever seen it before.
Shiratama suddenly felt uneasy. She wondered if she had said something wrong. As she panicked, Kazumi quietly stepped away from the railing. His expression remained solemn and forbidding as he said, “This will be the last time we meet like this.”
Shiratama’s eyes widened in shock. She drew in a sharp breath. “Why?” she asked. “Why shouldn’t we see one another again?” Her voice was breathy and choppy. She paused and took a deeper breath. When she spoke again, her tone was steadier. She sounded much more sure of herself. “You’ve always served Hokke and my father faithfully, tending to the gardens and the trees. There must be many other tasks you do that I don’t even know about, right?”
She paused. Her voice wavered as she asked, “Are you saying you’re going to quit all of that too?”
Kazumi shook his head and replied, “No. I intend to continue serving Hokke just as I always have.”
“Then there’s no problem,” Shiratama declared firmly. “You’re my friend, right? My only ally. There are sure to be many hardships ahead as I prepare to enter the palace.” She looked down at him: her hanging over the railing, him on the ground below. “Or are you going to abandon me?”
That question sounded like an accusation—or a curse.
“Abandon… no, duchess,” Kazumi said. Each word sounded squeezed, like he didn’t want to say them. “You don’t understand. Now that your formal entry into the palace has been decided, a grand coming-of-age ceremony will be held soon. Duchess, you will be an adult woman then.”
Shiratama hadn’t expected this response. Her brows furrowed. “That… That’s true, I suppose,” she said. “But for you, nothing will really change, will it? We’re not supposed to meet now, and we do. To be alone together with a man who has already come of age is forbidden.” She tried to laugh this off, thinking, Why worry about it now?
Kazumi stared up at her intently. “I have only met with you up until now because you have not come of age,” he said. His voice was quiet, his tone calm and gentle. “You once said that you considered me to be your equal. Do you remember? You told me that there was no need to feel intimidated by anyone, and that I should stand tall and with confidence.”
Shiratama looked away, seeming unsure. “Yes, of course. I still think that, even now.”
“If that’s the case, then why do you believe that we will be able to meet when we are both adults?”
The question stung Shiratama. Her shoulders trembled.
Kazumi noticed her reaction, but he did not stop speaking. “Children are forgiven almost anything. If a young child meets with a man, there might be some excuse or reason for it. But for an unmarried duchess to meet with a man alone—that is completely unacceptable.”
“But,” Shiratama pleaded desperately, “Chanohana and the other ladies-in-waiting meet with you sometimes, don’t they?”
Kazumi grimaced. “To them, I am not a man. I am a tool, like a broom or a spade.” He kept speaking calmly, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness in his voice that Shiratama had never heard before.
“Kazumi? What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s nothing,” Kazumi replied curtly. “You think of me as they do. Just a tool. That saddened me for a moment. That’s all.”
Shiratama was taken aback. She hadn’t known that Chanohana and the other ladies-in-waiting treated Kazumi poorly, so she hadn’t known what effect her words would have on him. “Are you saying we can’t see each other as equals anymore? Ever?”
“I’m disappointed,” Kazumi said. “I thought you did see me as an equal, but apparently that was never so.”
Shiratama felt like she was about to cry. “You don’t have to say that. I only—”
“Only what? Did you think you’d be able to keep me with you when you go to Sakura Palace, as if I were your favorite doll?”
That remark finally made Shiratama lose her temper. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t think of a single good comeback. She stood up straight, pushed away from the railing and spun on her heel. She started walking away.
“This is goodbye,” Kazumi said to her back.
Shiratama froze.
“Please take good care of yourself,” Kazumi said softly. All trace of his earlier anger and disappointment was gone like it had never existed.
Shiratama wanted Kazumi to try to stop her from leaving, but now she understood that he wouldn’t do that. He’d never do that again. She was only sulking, and he knew it. Usually, he would call her back and cheer her up. She’d always relied on him to do that. But this time, he wouldn’t prevent her from going. This really was goodbye.
If Shiratama insisted on being stubborn now, she knew she would never see Kazumi again. Never, ever.
She hadn’t understood what entering the imperial palace really meant until that moment. It meant turning her back on everything in her old life. After she went to Sakura Palace, she wouldn’t get to see Kazumi anymore. She was stunned by this sudden understanding. She’d never thought about losing anything when she entered the imperial court. She was supposed to gain everything her family lacked, not lose what was most precious to her.
“Wait,” Shiratama said before she even turned around.
Kazumi was still in the garden. “Duchess.”
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“If this is the last time,” she said as she walked back to the railing, “then I want to see your flowers.”
Kazumi’s eyes widened in surprise. He blinked.
“Yes, yours. You mentioned them before. I want to see them.”
Kazumi dreamed of tending his own garden in the future. That was impossible for him now; he owned no land. He’d found a place where wild grasses and flowers grew thick and he took care of it as if it were his own. Of course, the care wasn’t anything elaborate. He hadn’t planted any new flowers. At first glance, the place he’d chosen looked like an ordinary field. He often talked about how he removed broken branches and carefully weeded out strong, spindly grasses. The little patch of ground was something he was proud of.
He had never shown it to anyone or brought anyone there before, but he’d told Shiratama that he wished she could see it more than once.
“Please,” Shiratama said.
“But…”
“Please, I beg you. Take me there.” She was on the verge of tears.
Kazumi hesitated.
“Please,” Shiratama repeated, pressing her hands together. “If you say no, I will never be able to see your flowers. I don’t want to have any regrets about leaving Hokke. The only thing I truly wish to see before I leave is the flowers you’ve spoken of so often. And after I have seen your flowers…” Her lower lip trembled. “I will never see you again. Never, not even once.”
Kazumi’s eyes widened further. Then he shook out his shoulders, inhaling deeply and letting out a long breath. His troubled expression faded, replaced by his usual smile. “I understand, duchess,” he said. “I will take you to see my flowers. So that you have no regrets. I will come to pick you up about half an hour before dawn tomorrow morning.” He paused, then added, “Wait for me.”
Shiratama didn’t sleep a wink that night. She went to her window and looked up, willing the sun to rise faster. She noticed a shadow standing underneath the window and jumped in surprise. “Kazumi?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
“Yes, duchess,” Kazumi said. His voice was muffled.
Shiratama slipped out of her room through the window. Kazumi carried a basket large enough to hold a person on his back. The shadow she’d seen earlier had been cast by the basket, not Kazumi. The basket was woven of wisteria vines and looked sturdy. The inside was lined with padded cotton.
“Please get in the basket, duchess,” Kazumi said.
Shiratama acquiesced immediately, understanding the purpose of the basket at once. She got in without a word. Kazumi lifted the basket and left the area quietly. No one noticed them. He passed through Hokke’s vast gardens and grounds, ducking between shrubs and keeping to little-used paths. Once, he stopped to speak to some guards in a friendly way. Shiratama kept silent.
Kazumi and Shiratama didn’t speak as Kazumi walked. When they reached the edge of the estate's grounds, Kazumi set the basket down.
“I’m sorry,” Kazumi said. “This is the only basket I have that’s big enough. It’s usually used for carrying firewood. Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
Shiratama shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
The sun was rising, but still half-hidden, so the air was cool. Shiratama took a deep breath, drawing in the clean air and letting it out. “My breath is white,” she said.
“It is,” Kazumi said.
Shiratama giggled. Kazumi laughed with her. All the tension they’d felt while sneaking away melted into the morning mist.
“It’s a little cold,” Kazumi said. “I brought you a padded jacket. Please wear it so that you don’t catch a chill.” He pulled out a many-layered padded cloth jacket and wrapped it around Shiratama.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome. We’re almost there,” Kazumi said.
Shiratama got back in the basket and Kazumi lifted her up again. They traveled in silence, heading toward Kazumi’s field.
Shiratama didn’t feel guilty or embarrassed about being carried by Kazumi. His closeness and the warmth of his back that she felt through the basket were comforting. She almost fell asleep.
“Duchess,” Kazumi said in a tight voice.
Shiratama’s eyes fluttered open. How long had it been since she’d put the jacket on? She couldn’t tell. She lifted her head. “Are we there already?”
“Yes. From here, it’s just a short walk. I’ll help you down.” Kazumi carefully lowered the basket containing Shiratama and opened it. Shiratama was barefoot, so he took out a pair of soft sandals for her to wear. The sandals appeared to be woven from scraps of cloth. Shiratama sat on the edge of the basket and extended her feet elegantly. Kazumi placed the sandals on her feet and then offered her his hand.
“Come on,” Kazumi said. “We’re close.”
Shiratama accepted his hand without a moment of hesitation. Her legs were cramped from sitting in the basket for so long. Kazumi noticed this and didn’t rush her. He matched her pace as they walked down a slight hill. The footing was uneven in places, so Shiratama was grateful that Kazumi had chosen to carry her most of the way here. Kazumi guided her past wobbly stones and slippery moss as they made their way toward their destination.
Most of Shiratama’s attention was on her feet so that she wouldn’t fall. She looked up once and noticed that the world around her had brightened considerably since dawn.
They entered a large clearing with trees growing sparsely around it. A gentle mountain slope sharpened into a tumbling cliff in the distance. The landscape struck Shiratama as unusually well-balanced: no tree, flower or blade of grass seemed out of place where it was. Flowering shrubs blossomed near her feet. The delicate petals of the flowers were weighed down with dew.
Shiratama felt a sense of harmony and peace as she took in the beauty of her surroundings. She gasped in admiration.
Kazumi sent a quiet, easy laugh her way. “I’m glad you like it, but this isn’t what I wanted you to see,” he said. “Come. We’re nearly there.”
Shiratama looked at everything as they passed, her eyes open and curious. They went a little way down the mountain slope with the sun at their backs. The bright light of the sun shone on the trees before her. The trees stood wreathed in pristine light, looking like they’d dressed themselves for a ball. Flowering shrubs grew in their shade. The flowers were all white and glistening. The last of the morning dew evaporated from the flower petals as the sunlight brightened.
The flowers grew from delicate branches and sparkled in the sun. A breeze ruffled the flowers, making them sway gracefully like little dancers. The blossoms were more beautiful than any jewel Shiratama had ever seen. Droplets of dew reflected rainbow colors when the sun kissed them. Wind-scattered dew shone like gold as it fell to earth. She felt as if there was a song inside each drop of dew, each blooming white petal. The mountain slope before her eyes felt like a magical place.
Shiratama cried out at the sight, overcome by emotion. The cool breeze made a bit of color rise to her cheeks. She had no words for what she saw.
Kazumi watched Shiratama’s cheeks bloom rose-colored and smiled, but only for a brief moment. Shiratama didn’t look at him. She was too enraptured by the view.
“So… do you like it?”
Shiratama tore her gaze away from the scene before her and faced Kazumi. She nodded, smiling as if she were about to cry. “I like it. Very much. Your garden is the most beautiful one in the whole world.”
Kazumi knelt down in front of Shiratama, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Duchess,” he said to the ground under her feet.
Shiratama blinked at his sudden solemnity.
Still kneeling, Kazumi cupped his hands around Shiratama’s. He looked up at her face and said, “I love you, duchess.” His words floated in the space between them like a gossamer thread.
It took a few moments for Kazumi’s declaration to sink in. Even after it did, Shiratama had no idea how to respond. She held his gaze, looking into his eyes as if she’d find the right thing to say in them.
“The first time I saw you, I was twelve, and you had just turned nine, I think.” Kazumi spoke quietly, but steadily. “I had accompanied my father that day; he was going to teach me some of his tasks. We were in the village, and I saw you in the middle of a throng of servants and ladies-in-waiting. You looked so small then. The peach trees were all blooming. The flowers were the same color as your cheeks. I thought that I had never seen anyone so beautiful in my life before. You said this place was the most beautiful in the world, but to me, the most beautiful place is the one where you are. Just seeing you that day made me happy. Before long, I began to visit the inner chambers of the estate every day, using the excuse of adding seasonal flowers to the mosquito incense. I just wanted to catch a glimpse of you. That went on until you noticed me.”
Shiratama nodded slowly, remembering.
“I found one of your folded paper cranes inside an incense burner and almost lost my nerve,” Kazumi said. “I felt like I’d discovered something that you wanted to keep hidden. I was afraid.” He frowned, furrowing his brows slightly. “But when I heard that you had fallen ill, I couldn’t stay away. That was the first time I brought flowers just for you.”
“Wintersweet,” Shiratama murmured softly. “They were such little flowers. I remember. And that was also the first time you showed yourself to me.”3
"Yes, that’s right. I brought you that wintersweet from this garden. Back then, the shrub was still small. I thought it would be a shame to break off a large branch. So when you said the small branch was enough, I was happy. I felt your kindness, your inner beauty. I was glad. I love you,” Kazumi whispered again. “For a long time now, I have cared only for you.”
Birds chirped in the trees growing along the mountainside. The early morning sky had been pale, but it burnished richly as the sun rose higher.
“I never intended to tell you how I felt,” Kazumi said. “I got sick of feeling sorry for myself, I suppose.” He looked down: shy, not embarrassed. “Shiratama… will you run away with me? Just as we are?”
He had asked her to run away with him without using honorifics. He’d addressed her as an equal, not a duchess.
“We might be poor, but I promise I will make you happy. I swear on my life that I will do everything I can to make it so.” He grasped her hands tightly in his and looked up at her. The joy and reminiscence in his eyes had darkened to grim seriousness.
Shiratama gazed at Kazumi with new eyes. When had Kazumi become so grown-up? She had noticed him growing taller, of course, and acting more like an adult, but she’d never considered him a grown man before today. He’d lost all the soft roundness in his cheeks during his last growth spurt. He was a head taller than she was, with long limbs and graceful movements. The new, sharper lines of his face gave the impression of strength. In his eyes, Shiratama sensed a youthful passion.
The boy who had once brought her a branch of wintersweet flowers had grown into a fine young man. And yet, he had not changed in any way that mattered. He was the same Kazumi she’d always known. She was certain that he would give his all and even risk his life for her. No matter how poor they might be, he would work desperately and do anything to see her happy. She could easily imagine him enduring any hardship for her sake.
Shiratama did not move or speak for a long moment. She was neither surprised nor shaken by these new revelations about Kazumi. She understood Kazumi’s feelings, but she was not swept away by them. Even Shiratama herself couldn’t fully explain it, but deep within her a certain resolve—a kind of unshakable determination—had already taken root.
Shiratama looked into Kazumi’s eyes and said softly, “Thank you. But I’m sorry. Even if I run away with you, I won’t find happiness.”
Kazumi squeezed Shiratama’s hands in his. He didn’t look away from her. Surprisingly, there was no sign of disappointment in his eyes. A different, bittersweet emotion lodged there, but he didn’t seem sad.
“I knew you’d say that,” Kazumi said. “But remember this: there’s at least one man in Yamauchi willing to give his life to you. My feelings won’t change. At the end of my life, I’ll feel the same way about you as I do now.”
Kazumi sprang to his feet, all energy, and let go of Shiratama’s hands. “We’re almost out of time. Let’s hurry back before Chanohana notices anything amiss.” He spun neatly on his heel and stretched out his arms.
In the time it took Shiratama to blink, Kazumi transformed into a large raven. His body was covered in jet-black feathers and his arms were wide wings. His mouth was a beak, so it was hard to read his expression. There was a light in his eyes like joy or freedom. Shiratama thought that he was happy, but it was hard to be sure.
Translator's Notes
1 白珠: Shiratama means “pearl”: white + ball or sphere.↩
2 六つの花: Mutsu no Hana means “six flowers.↩
3 唐梅: In the language of flowers, wintersweet symbolizes kindness, guidance, foresight, independence, perseverance, fortitude, and faithfulness. These meanings stem from its ability to bloom with a sweet fragrance in the cold of winter, representing its gentle nature, its ability to bloom when other plants cannot, and the enduring qualities of such a plant. ↩
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