Yatagarasu Series
Volume 1:
Ravens Shouldn't
Wear Kimono
Author: Chisato Abe
Part 4: Winter
Section 2
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Shiratama rode on Kazumi’s feathered back as they flew back to the Hokke estate. She hugged him around the middle, feeling his soft feathers under her fingers. She thought only of him on the journey back home.
They returned and went about their lives without anyone ever finding out what they’d done. After that day, Kazumi didn’t come to see her anymore. He left her flowers, as he had before. Shiratama’s eyes lingered on the mosquito incense burners when she passed them, thinking she’d catch a glimpse of Kazumi, but she never did.
Shiratama’s days were full of preparations for her departure to Sakura Palace. On the morning when all was in readiness, Shiratama received words of farewell from the Lord of Hokke and his wife.
“Our family’s long-cherished hope of having someone enter the Imperial Court now rests on your shoulders. We’re counting on you,” the Lord of Hokke said firmly, his eyes shining with expectation.
“There will surely be hardships ahead, but please take care of yourself,” his wife said gently.
The Lord of Hokke turned toward his wife and then laughed heartily. “No need to worry,” he said. “I’m sure the Crown Prince will love our Shiratama. As long as the young prince cares for her, I am sure that Shiratama can face any challenge.”
The thought that flashed through Shiratama’s mind in that moment was something she could never voice aloud. For the first time, Shiratama felt resentment toward Kazumi. He had planted the seed of something too great and terrible for her to bear within her. Even if the Crown Prince did come to love her, Kazumi’s love came first. Her hands and her heart were full of Kazumi’s feelings, and she could not let them go. She had no love to give to the Crown Prince, either; her own emotions were tangled up with Kazumi’s so that she could hardly feel anything else.
Shiratama was supposed to love the Crown Prince, but now, she wasn’t sure she could. A single tear fell down her cheek. She smoothed her expression and smiled up at her adoptive father. “Your words are more than I deserve,” she said.
The Lord of Hokke nodded in approval. “Are you so happy that you shed a tear? You don’t have to cry, Shiratama. There will be countless opportunities for you to savor happiness from now on. If you are happy, you should smile.”
Shiratama replied, “Yes.” Another traitorous tear coursed down her other cheek. Now that she was crying, she couldn’t stop.
By the time Shiratama reached Sakura Palace, she had steeled herself against further displays of emotion like that. She had resolved to abandon everything. She had nothing left to lose. If she could not enter the Imperial Court, she would lose her life’s purpose and her family’s support. Failure was not an option.
Shortly after her arrival, Shiratama wrote a letter home to Hokke. She asked the Lord of Hokke to investigate the other duchesses in detail. Hokke was known for its warriors, and warriors had specialized training. They could open doors that were closed to most others. The Lord of Hokke read Shiratama’s letter and provided her with as much information as he could from various sources. He also agreed to send her anything else he learned.
If there was anything Shiratama took pride in, it was that she had nothing to hide. She suspected that the duchesses from the other families all carried some sort of secret or source of shame. She alone had lived a spotless life untainted by any sort of scandal.
Reports from the Lord of Hokke soon arrived at Sakura Palace. The first one read, One of our own has infiltrated the ranks of the Yamauchishu.
Chanohana read the letter over before passing it to Shiratama. “Oh, the Yamauchishu?” she asked in a lively voice. “This must mean one of our warriors was specially appointed to join the imperial guards. That is a great honor.”
“If so, perhaps we’ll be able to get more information about the Crown Prince himself,” Shiratama said. She was quite pleased.
Chanohana skimmed over the rest of the letter and frowned. “Hm, no.”
“No?” Shiratama asked.
“One of our warriors didn’t join,” Chanohana said. “What a muddle—it seems that a servant of Hokke has been hired as a menial worker at the Keisoin,” she explained. Her excitement was evident as she added, “From now on, we should be able to receive reports through that connection.”
“A servant of Hokke?” Shiratama asked slowly.
Chanohana found nothing strange about Shiratama’s question. She nodded shallowly and then said, “Yes. Apparently, he is the son of a gardener. His name is Kazumi. He seems to be about three years older than you.” Chanohana said this with obvious delight, adding, “From now on, whenever he brings us good news, I’ll be sure to offer words of appreciation.”
***
The letter Chanohana was reading had come from Kazumi himself. He sent Shiratama all kinds of useful information from inside the Keisoin. In less than a month, she had what she needed to negotiate with Duchess Hamayū of Nanke.
“You want me to give up on entering the imperial court?” Hamayū asked with one eyebrow arched. To say she was skeptical would be an understatement.
“Yes, that’s right. In exchange, Hokke will promise to support Nanke’s interests.”
Of course, this was a blatant lie. Even if Shiratama did manage to wed the Crown Prince, Hokke would never actually side with Nanke. But this was Sakura Palace, and Shiratama was empowered by Hokke to offer whatever she needed to in order to win. She didn’t expect Hamayū to capitulate to her demands easily. This was just an opening volley. Shiratama was testing Hamayū, and Hamayū knew it.
“No, that’s not possible,” Hamayū said flatly. “This isn’t even worth discussing. I doubt the Lord of Hokke would take any decisive action to assist Nanke even with your say-so. Come back when you have a formal agreement that guarantees Hokke’s support, and we’ll talk then.” She waved Shiratama off carelessly.
Shiratama decided to play her trump card. “In that case, would it be all right if I told Princess Fujinami about your origins?”
Hamayū’s lips pursed. She faced Shiratama calmly and smoothed her expression to an unreadable mask. “Hokke’s spies are getting quicker in gathering their information. I should have expected that.”
“Yes,” Shiratama said. “I know you never intended to enter the imperial court in the first place. Why not make it official? If I were to publicize your origins now, it would cause nothing but trouble for you and Nanke.”
Hamayū’s mask slipped for a split second, revealing a sliver of hesitation—or fear.
Shiratama pressed her advantage. “If you would allow me to enter the imperial court without interference, I can promise to reciprocate in kind. Hokke can help Nanke by keeping Saike in check.”
“What about Touke?” Hamayū asked. “Asebi might be the most troublesome thorn in your path.” She was no longer dismissive or aloof.
Shiratama believed that Hamayū was wrong about Asebi. Sakura Palace was a battlefield, and Asebi was not fit to be a soldier on it. She felt no pangs of conscience about what she had to do. She felt triumphant. She faced Hamayū wearing a forced expression of confusion that would fool no one.
“What are you saying? Asebi is a simple country girl. Rumors that she is a karasudayū are already swirling around her. Even if she is somewhat skilled in music, she’s not a rival for us.”
Hamayū shook her head. “That’s precisely the problem. Touke does not stake its family’s fate or fortune on ascending to the throne. They are so skilled in politics that they don’t need to do that.”
Shiratama hadn’t known that Nanke rated Touke so highly before. She shrugged, pretending nonchalance.
Hamayū sighed. “Nanke and Saike have power, but that power is bound up in promises of neutrality. They cannot act openly against others without breaking their word and causing more problems. Touke has made no such promises. From the outside, they appear to have no aspirations to power at all. It is impossible to bend them this way or that using political pressure alone. I can do little to affect Touke. No one can.”
Asebi’s smiling face flashed through Shiratama’s mind. A chill ran down her spine. Asebi seemed so carefree and unconcerned, so different from Shiratama herself. A surge of resentment nearly made Shiratama falter. She kept herself calm and still by force of will.
“So what is to be done?” Hamayū asked. “Even if Hokke allies with Nanke, all we can do is hamper the Saike family in covert ways.”
“That’s more than enough,” Shiratama said. She gave Hamayū a chilly smile. “I will crush Asebi myself.”
***
After that meeting, many things happened.
A letter from the Crown Prince had been intercepted by someone inside Sakura Palace. At first, Shiratama suspected Asebi, but Asebi wasn’t responsible for correspondence going missing. Shiratama learned that Asebi probably wasn’t smart enough to disrupt messages even if she wanted to.
Still, Shiratama continued to threaten Asebi. She insulted her and harassed her in every way she could think of. Every time Asebi cried, Shiratama grew more irritated. She cursed Asebi for not leaving Sakura Palace already. She’d had plenty of opportunities to go.
Shiratama despised herself for hating Asebi so much. There were times when she could scarcely recognize herself because of all the terrible things she’d done.
Every night, when the other ladies-in-waiting had fallen asleep and the hour grew late, Shiratama quietly rose and made her way to the moon-viewing platform in the Winter Hall.
The other halls had special areas set aside for the appreciation of flowers or autumn leaves. The Winter Hall was different. There were no special plants here. Instead, a moon-viewing platform provided a panoramic view of the mountains and the large lake that spread out at the foot of the largest peak in the nearby mountain range. Sakura Palace had been built into a tall mountain surrounded by slightly shorter peaks. The other mountains blocked the view of the lake in every Hall aside from the Winter Hall.
Shiratama slid open the door to the moon-viewing platform. Cold air flowed through the door and lifted the hem of her nightgown slightly. Shiratama took a step out onto the moon-viewing platform, but quickly drew her foot back. The treated wood of the platform was as cold as ice. Daunted but not deterred, Shiratama sat down on the very edge of the platform. She lowered herself onto a short set of stairs that went down to a round glass window and looked up at the sky.
The night was cloudy, but the moonlight was bright enough to break through the cloud cover. The lake below was perfectly still. The mountains were so quiet. It was as if all living things had ceased to exist.
Thin clouds drifted slowly across the sky, occasionally revealing the outline of the moon.
Shiratama thought, I want to die. The realization came on suddenly, but it felt right to her. She hated herself so much right now that she wanted to kill herself. She stared at the lake as if she’d been enchanted to stillness. She made no move to act on her realization.
She could jump. It wouldn’t be hard.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted death. She’d never died before. What she really wanted was to stop living forever.
But Shiratama was not in charge of her own life. She didn’t have the right to do as she wished.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she whispered. Frustrated at not being able to control anything in her life, Shiratama buried her face in her arms.
“If you stay there, you’ll catch a cold.”
Shiratama’s eyes flew open.
The voice was familiar. But Kazumi shouldn’t be here.
She lifted her head fearfully, as if moving too fast would force her back into the real world where she was all alone.
“Shiratama.”
Shiratama got to her feet slowly, the cold stinging her feet. She saw a shadow limned by moonlight standing in the room that led to the moon-viewing platform.
“No,” she said. She wanted a lamp—she wanted to see—but she also didn’t want to confirm the identity of the person standing there.
The clouds parted, and the moon shone a brilliant white. The moon’s reflection appeared on the surface of the lake, twinned on the water and in the sky. White light shone on the feet of the intruder in the Winter Hall. He stepped forward into the light.
“Kazumi?” Shiratama asked.
Is this a joke? Why are you here? There were so many things she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t leave her throat.
Kazumi wasn’t stunned like she was. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I was guided here in secret. When I told him that I wanted to see you one more time, no matter what, he agreed to help.” He spoke quietly, but he didn’t appear nervous or even unsettled. “The truth is, I never intended to see you again. Because you said that even if you were with me, you wouldn’t be happy.”
Kazumi raised his voice and looked straight into Shiratama’s eyes. “I came because you aren’t happy now, and you won’t be happy if things continue as they are.”
Shiratama looked at Kazumi as if he were a fantastical apparition that would soon vanish. “Are you here because I cannot enter the imperial court?” she asked.
“No, that’s not it.” Kazumi shook his head, appearing somewhat frustrated. “You read my letters, didn’t you? I didn’t write a single lie. The prince has never mentioned you, not even once. Even if he were to marry you, he would not cherish you. You won’t find happiness in the imperial court.”
“I can and I will!” Shiratama shouted. “At the very least, I will make him happy even if I am not!” She set her shoulders and flung her words at Kazumi like an accusation. “You tell me the Crown Prince doesn’t love me? I know that already! So what? I can’t solve that problem by running away from it.”
She took a deep breath and bit back the tears gathering in her eyes. “Compared to you and my ladies-in-waiting, I have lived a life of indescribable luxury and privilege. I have been cherished and protected like a white pearl in a clam shell. Why is that, do you think? I don’t have the skills of a gardener like you, nor have I worked myself to the bone like the maids. Why have I been allowed to have such a privileged life? Why am I pampered so much even though I’ve done nothing, and why do you think no one criticizes me for that?”
Kazumi was about to open his mouth to answer. Shiratama pitched forward into the room and clung to him desperately before he could speak.
“Everyone thinks I will enter the imperial court.” Tears she could no longer suppress rolled down her cheeks. “It is my duty. My responsibility. If I ran away just because the Crown Prince doesn’t love me, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I would be betraying everyone in Hokke. I would be a thief.”
Kazumi had no response for Shiratama’s bitter self-reproach. “Shiratama…”
“It’s all right if the Crown Prince doesn’t love me. My happiness is entering the imperial court. By doing so, I can repay everyone in Hokke for their care. This is something that I absolutely must do.” Shiratama said all this in a single breath, her face lowered.
Shiratama felt her resolve crystallizing within her. She’d never said all of this aloud to anyone. Saying it made her understand herself better. She knew now why she could never have control over her own life. She wasn’t allowed to die. Death was not permitted to her because her life and choices were not her own. Until she entered the imperial court and fulfilled all of her family’s dreams, her life would not be hers to live.
Enough already, Shiratama thought. Enough. There’s only one way forward.
“I’ve done so many things that I’m ashamed to face you,” Shiratama said. “The Shiratama you once loved doesn’t exist anymore. You don’t know just how terrible I’ve been, do you?” She had become crueler since she’d come here. She didn’t deserve someone as kind as Kazumi.
“So please, just forget about me. Find your own happiness with a good woman,” she whispered, keeping her head down. Her voice broke from the pain of holding so much in for so long.
“You were never so pathetic before,” Kazumi said.
Shiratama blinked in surprise. “Pathetic?” She didn’t think of herself that way. The descriptor seemed inapt.
Kazumi’s face was tight from anguish. His eyes were full of compassion.
A chill went through Shiratama’s whole body; she shivered in his embrace.
“Right now, you are pathetic,” Kazumi said. “Yes.” He rested one hand softly on her shoulder. “I’ll say what you can’t or won’t: you’re pathetic. Pitiful. Why do you have to sacrifice yourself for your family? Why do you have to play the villain to get what you want? Maybe you’ll say that I don’t understand, or that I’m missing something, but this is how I see you. What duty do you have? For what reason do you have it? Where does your resolve come from? You’re miserable. How could anything be worth your own happiness?”
Kazumi had anticipated her objections. Shiratama was at a loss for words.
“Listen. I’m not here because you led me on or forced me to come. Didn’t I tell you? I love you.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her own hand. He laced their fingers together.
Kazumi’s expression shifted into something more solid and resolute. “Just admit it already. I love you. And you love me too.”
Shiratama gasped. Her eyes widened briefly before she looked away. “That’s not true,” she said, but there was no conviction behind it. “I am the Crown Prince’s woman. I can’t just—”
“Stop interpreting things that way,” Kazumi said, cutting her off. “The prince doesn’t want you. Should I just kidnap you?”
The suggestion was so unexpected that Shiratama was half-convinced she’d heard him wrong.
Kazumi grinned at Shiratama’s stunned, blank expression. “You look like a kid when you do that,” he said, smiling. “I really do love you.”
Shiratama blinked. “You shouldn’t make bad jokes.”
“I’m not joking,” Kazumi said. “If you won’t say ‘yes,’ then I have no choice but to kidnap you.”
“If you even try something like that, you’ll be killed! We don’t even know what would happen if anyone found out you’re here right now.”
“So you’re worried about my safety?” Kazumi asked. His grin widened.
Shiratama blushed. “Don’t say obvious things; it makes you look stupid.” Kazumi didn’t understand her or her situation at all. She despaired of making him comprehend just how much danger he was in.
“If you’re worried about me, please come with me,” he said. “You don’t need to be trapped here. Run away with me.”
“If I could have done that back then, I wouldn’t have suffered for so long,” Shiratama snapped. “What makes you think I can do that now?”
“It’s not too late. I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain. Even if you hate me, I’ll take you with me.”
Shiratama looked up, startled.
“But I won’t force you,” Kazumi said. “Please say you’ll come with me.”
“I—” Shiratama’s shoulders shook. “I—I love you, too! But what am I supposed to do about it?!” She’d said that too loud. She covered her mouth with her sleeve and gasped.
Surprise washed over Kazumi like a wave, but he recovered quickly. When Shiratama tried to pull away from him, he kept his hand in hers.
“No… I can’t,” Shiratama said. “Forget what I just said. I cannot go with you.” She was pale and shivering, but as certain as she’d ever been.
Kazumi let go of Shiratama’s hand and let his arm fall to his side. “I understand,” he said.
Shiratama had expected him to fight her. But Kazumi just stood there, tall and quiet and strangely dignified.
“I won’t force you to come with me,” Kazumi said. “On the next moonless night, after everyone has gone to sleep, come to the stable beside the cherry blossom viewing stage inside Sakura Palace. I will be there waiting for you.”
Shiratama frowned to keep her anxiety from showing too much on her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I want you to come with me of your own free will.” His tone wasn’t particularly forceful, but Shiratama was briefly terrified.
Shiratama shook her head slowly. “That’s impossible. I won’t go,” she said in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper.
Kazumi gave her a genuine, melting smile. “No, you will come. I know it.”
He left the room and went out onto the moon-viewing platform, climbing through the round window on the way. Before he left, he looked back at Shiratama one last time.
“I’ll wait for you. You told me that you love me. I’m no longer afraid of anything. I will wait, no matter how long it takes.”
Kazumi jumped down from the moon-viewing platform. Startled, Shiratama rushed to the railing and looked down, but Kazumi was nowhere to be seen.
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