“Come closer,” his father said without looking up as he made another mark on the parchment.
Hikaru padded across the floor, his footsteps muffled by the soft bamboo flooring and his socked feet. He knelt down in front of his father, head pressed to the ground and palms flat against the rough tatami mats. He waited for his father’s signal, listening to the soft exhale of his own breath.
“Rise, my son,” Lord Kaedemori said.
Hikaru sat up, folded his hands in his lap, and looked to his father. Lord Kaedemori did not look up but focused on his writing. Lord Kaedemori’s once black hair had gone silver in recent years, with a few strands of black shot through it. The tight topknot flaunted his receding hair. Long and nimble fingers made intricate characters on the paper. Hikaru tried to read the document upside down but found it impossible. After finishing the final line, his father set aside his ink and brush and then looked down at his oldest son.
“How many men died in the forest?”
Hikaru swallowed past a lump in his throat. “One dead and three missing… Father.”
“Why did you take the forest road?”
Hikaru fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I thought it would be quicker…”
His father stood up to loom over Hikaru. Hikaru tilted his head, meeting his father’s severe expression, which pinned him in place.
Then Lord Kaedemori said, “You did not consider bandits that might be waiting or that your men would be unable to maneuver to protect you?”
“I did not.” Hikaru bowed his head.
“Look at me.”
Hikaru’s head snapped up.
His father stared down at him with an expression made of ice. “If you are to lead this clan, you cannot make these sorts of mistakes. If you had died, the treaty would have suffered.”
His casual dismissal of Hikaru’s life was nothing new. He had a place, as the oldest son, to inherit the clan, to become the elder. That was all he mattered to his father. If Lord Kaedemori held any affection for Hikaru, he never showed it.
“I understand. I will do better next time.” He bowed low, mostly as an excuse to avoid his father’s penetrating gaze.
“If there is a next time. I could always disinherit you and put your brother in your place.”
“If you wish it, Father.” He felt his father’s glare on the top of his skull, but he dared not meet his gaze.
His father took a seat once more. “I trust all the other arrangements went as planned?”
Now this was something Hikaru could take pride in. “It was just as I expected, the squabble about territory lines and compensation. But in the end we came to an agreement that we could both be satisfied with.” He smiled, but his father’s blank expression wiped the smile right off his face.
“You have done well, Hikaru.”
He fought the smile that threatened to crack his features once more. His father so rarely gave praise, it was an unexpected delight to have him do so. It almost soothed the bitter sting of his father’s earlier disappointment.
“You are excused.” His father turned his attention back to his parchment.
Hikaru bowed to his father once more and hurried out of the room.
It was not until he was down the hall that he exhaled. His meeting with his father had gone better than expected. He had expected to be chastised for leading four of his father’s warriors to their deaths. Deep in thought, Hikaru did not see his brother Hotaru approaching from the opposite way.
“Hikaru! Welcome home, brother,” Hotaru said with a forced levity.
Hikaru plastered a smile on his face for his brother’s benefit. “Brother.”
“You’re back from the Fujikawas’ already? I thought these sorts of things took longer to manage,” Hotaru said.
“Did you come to see if I had failed?” Hikaru replied, hard-pressed to hide his rancor.
Hotaru returned a false smile of his own. Like most of their interactions, this one was laced with barbs. Hotaru was often intent on tearing Hikaru down. It seemed to be his life goal. “Not at all. I heard there was some trouble on your way back. A few of the men in the yard are telling wild tales about an enormous boar that tore apart half of your guard.” He laughed. “The more they drink, the wilder the tales get. I think upon the last telling they were saying that you ran away like a dog with your tail between your legs.”
Hikaru flinched internally. He would not let his brother have the benefit of seeing how his words cut him. He would remember those men’s names until he died. They had died in his service because of his mistake. “Three men are dead, brother, is that really something to laugh about?”
His brother’s smile faltered but only a bit. It was a small triumph. “I’m off to speak with father. He summoned me. The servant who relayed the message said it was urgent. Perhaps he already spoke with you?”
Hikaru bit his tongue to keep from spitting another ill-timed reply. His brother loved to flaunt their father’s favor. Even though Hotaru was Lord Kaedemori’s second oldest son and born to his second wife, Lord Kaedemori still gave Hotaru preferential treatment over Hikaru, his firstborn. Only age-old tradition had saved Hikaru from being passed up as the heir to the Kaedemori clan. Some days he wished his brother would inherit instead of him. Hotaru won the men’s love with little effort, and he was an accomplished swordsman, everything a father looked for in a son. He had all the makings of a great leader, while Hikaru garnered disappointment and scorn from his men. And got them killed.
“I did not think so, why would he share such information with you?” Hotaru smiled as he brushed past Hikaru.
Hikaru watched his brother head for their father’s chamber, his thoughts churning with anger and bitterness. A dozen too-late retorts came to mind but withered on the vine. As usual, his brother knew when to leave to inflict the most damage.
Hotaru slid into their father’s chamber and wiped the smile off his face. Lord Kaedemori would not appreciate a cheeky grin. In the past, Hotaru had made the mistake of smiling in front of his father and earned a tongue-lashing for it—lords of good standing did not grin like a Tanuki. Lord Kaedemori glanced up as Hotaru crossed the room. His expression was unreadable but for the faint shade of disappointment that turned down the corners of his mouth just a bit more than usual. Once again, Hikaru had failed to meet their father’s expectations and it was up to Hotaru to pick up the pieces. He knelt down in front of his father, hands arranged perfectly on the tatami as he bowed low. He pressed his head to the ground and then looked into his father’s dark eyes. How many times had he looked there, searching for affection, a sign of favor or praise?
“Is something troubling you, Father?” he asked.
Lord Kaedemori stared down at his second son. He was made of ice and no amount of affection could melt him. Like a fool, Hotaru kept trying, no matter if his fingers turned black from frostbite and he froze his own heart in the process. Hotaru would keep on trying to win over his father until he saw what talent he was squandering in him.
“I heard about the deaths.” Hotaru paused, thinking of the men he had trained and fought with, his brothers in arms. They had lost their lives due to his brother’s ineptitude. “The men are telling some tall tales about Yokai. Perhaps I should speak with them, have them hold their tongues?”
“That will not be necessary.” His father spoke at last, his voice as frigid as a winter storm.
Hotaru clamped his mouth shut and buried his feelings. But his father did not summon him on a whim. What could be more important than the death of their clansmen? “Why have you summoned me, Father?” His anger made his tone sharp, a mistake. Lord Kaedemori glared at him and Hotaru looked away. Speaking like a child would never earn Hotaru his father’s respect.
Lord Kaedemori folded his hands on the table in front of him. “The signing of the treaty is unprecedented. Never before have two clans come together as we have with the Fujikawas. Now that all eyes are upon us, we must prepare for what comes next.”
&nb
sp; “What comes next?” Excitement bubbled up; had his time come at last to prove his worth? His father had been dangling a marriage in front of his nose for months. Had he chosen someone at last? Would he be married to some lord’s daughter and thereby strengthen the clan?
“People fear what they do not understand. The other clans will seek to undermine us; they will plot and plan to topple our clan. The men’s training should be increased and the guard doubled.”
Hotaru deflated. “I thought perhaps now would be the time to send letters to other clans and inquire about my marriage.”
“That will come in time.”
The answer was unsatisfactory. Hotaru had been patient. He had waited for ages and obeyed all of his father’s orders. He’d delayed marrying, focusing on increasing his talent with a blade and strategy. He let Hikaru pretend at being a lord, and watched him flounder time and time again. Now men had died, good men, young men who should have served the clan until they were old and gray. They were in a time of peace, for now. Signing the treaty had secured an ally in the Fujikawas, but it created half a dozen enemies among the other clans. Hikaru did not have the authority or the knowledge to defend their clan; surely his father could see that. “I do not mean to speak out of turn, Father,” Hotaru said.
“Then halt your tongue.”
He closed his mouth, but the words boiled inside him, writhing like a snake. Hikaru was not fit to rule; with no ambition and no skill with a sword, he was not the leader they needed. Hotaru had both and more. He alone of Lord Kaedemori’s sons was the most fit to rule, and it was time his father saw it.
“Father, Hikaru is no leader. The men do not trust him. He is weak and—”
“You speak treason, son.”
Hotaru clenched his jaw shut hard enough to crack his teeth. Father is blinded by tradition. Why can’t he see I am meant to rule?
“There is an order to things. Hikaru is my firstborn by my first wife and so he shall inherit.”
Unless he dies. The thought scared him and stole the breath from his lungs. What dark corner of his heart had such a vile thing been born from? He never wished harm on his brother, no matter how much he frustrated him. They verbally sparred often but only because he thought Hikaru unfit to rule, but wishing his brother’s death, unthinkable, heinous, treasonous. Desperation was chasing his thoughts down dark corridors. He clenched his hands into fists to hide their shaking. I will find another way to rule that does not create bloodshed.
Out loud he said, “Yes, Father.”
3
The warrior in the mask approached Rin. His movements were slow but deliberate.
Rin snarled at Akio, “You cannot do this, you will start a war with the Dragon!”
“I would only start a war if he had sent you himself. He will not risk war over one foolish girl.” Akio grinned.
The warrior did not reach for his weapon. He thought she would come quietly. That was his first mistake. Rin unleashed her inner fox fire. Like taking the stopper out of a jar, she felt the energy flow to every part of her body, bones twisted and reformed, white hair burst from follicles, and she tripled in size, her head brushing against the ceiling. In her true form, she was nearly eye to eye with Akio, and the warriors were the size of dolls. Though size meant little if the masked warrior had a greater spiritual energy than her, as she suspected. Whatever form he hid beneath that mask must be terrifying.
“Oh, so you show your true colors, Kitsune.” Akio laughed.
She responded by lunging at him, teeth bared and a ball of fire building in her throat, prepared to burst from behind her lips. Before she could so much as leap over the table between them, the warrior collided with her side, sending her careening across the room, and slammed her against a wall. She twisted and snapped at the warrior, unleashing the ball of fire, which whizzed past his shoulder and singed a nearby column. He swung a sword with liquid grace, both deadly and beautiful. She jumped backwards as the blade grazed against her underbelly, shearing a few hairs off. She landed with teeth bared and a second fireball billowing in her gut.
The masked guard stood between her and the guardian, but the door at the back of the chamber lay open. Rin knew better than to fight a battle she could not win, so she ran for the door instead. Akio shouted for her capture and guards ran to block the exit. Unlike the masked warrior, they were inferior in power. She unleashed her fox fire, setting them ablaze. They screamed as they beat upon their bodies, falling on the ground, rolling about to put out the flames. She leapt over them and out into the hallway.
The palace was a maze of twisted corridors. When she had arrived, the hallway had no doors; now there were ten different doors, at least, and three different hallways. Picking a door at random, she found a courtyard garden dominated by a jasmine bush the size of a tree. There were only two choices: one to the left and one to the right. When she looked over her shoulder to see if she was being pursued, the door she had come through disappeared. She took the pathway to the left and found another door-lined hallway. She ran down the corridor, chose a door at random again and found a covered walkway. She went through three more doors, down five halls, only to end up back at the same courtyard with the overlarge jasmine bush.
Rin turned to go to the right again. She must have made a wrong turn somewhere; she was certain she had seen the main courtyard at one point.
“You should turn left,” said a monotone voice from behind her.
She spun in place, teeth bared and tails flickering with flame whipping behind her.
“The trick to escaping this palace is you must always choose the path to the left,” the warrior in the mask said.
“Why would you help me?” Rin asked, her voice a rumble. Flames flickered at her feet, and the fire in her gut burned, itching to be unleashed.
“Go, before Akio realizes.”
Rin eyed him for a moment. She had no reason to trust him, so she decided to turn right. He jumped in front of her, blocking her from going through the right-hand doorway.
“Go to the left, or I will fight you, and if I do, we both know you will lose.”
She growled but did as she was told. She backed towards the left passageway, not taking her eyes off him. When she was certain he would not attack before she could get away safely, she turned and fled down the hall. When she came to two passageways side by side once more, she considered going to the right but decided against it. After a few more left turns, she emerged at the front entryway. She leapt across the bridge and into the forest and into the night.
4
Hikaru went back to his private rooms, dismissed his servants and started to undress on his own. As he stripped off his outer robe, his brother’s taunts gave him pause. That led to thoughts of his shameful actions in the forest. I couldn’t even protect myself. If that strange woman hadn’t intervened, I would be dead.
Hikaru turned to face his veranda. The sliding doors opened onto his garden. The manicured bushes were shaped and perfect, not a stray branch in sight and not a single leaf lingered on the ground. I must have imagined the ears and tail, and surely that boar was not as big as I remember it. He stood for a moment, gazing up at the sliver of moon in the sky, his memories playing in his mind’s eye. He was never one for fanciful exaggerations; he was a man of learning and reason. I cannot be sure until I go and look again. He moved before he could change his mind. Urgency hurried his feet as he stormed down the hallway, through the inner rings of the palace and into the outer circle, where the stables were housed.
A group of warriors dallied about between rounds of guard duty as he approached. A few leaned against the side of the building.
One warrior, who had his back to Hikaru, was in the middle of a story. He spread his arms out wide as he said, “I’m telling you, it had tusks as big as me. And the noise it made turned your bowels to liquid.”
A second warrior laughed. “This sounds like an old wives’ tale.”
“I’m telling the truth, it was massive,” the first man
protested.
The others spotted Hikaru watching them. They stood up straight but more out of obligation than any sense of respect for Hikaru.
“I wish to ride; bring my horse,” Hikaru said.
They hesitated a moment, as if considering whether or not to obey his command. He could see the resentment bubbling beneath the surface. The accusation in their eyes that pinned their friends’ deaths upon him. He wanted to apologize, but the words failed him. He was no good at speaking with others unless it was about books.
“Yes, my lord,” said the man nearest to the stable doors.
Hikaru walked away to stand in the courtyard. When he turned his back, the men spoke in low tones to one another. The night air felt cool against his flushed cheeks. He fought the urge to shift from foot to foot. From the furtive glances in his direction, he knew they were talking about him. Just then the stable master emerged with his horse in tow. Hikaru swung into the saddle in a rush to make his departure to avoid any more uncomfortable stares. As he hurried through the palace gates, he did not notice the angry glares that followed him.
Rokuro watched Lord Hikaru ride out the gates with a scowl. He grasped the hilt of his sword; if he did not value his life and that of his men, he would chase after him and run the arrogant lord through. These were dangerous thoughts, spoken aloud and his head would soon be parted from his shoulders. The others stared at him, his brothers in arms, four less than they had been that morning. They looked to him, as lieutenant, for guidance, and he should set an example. In their eyes, he saw his own thoughts. They wanted vengeance. Treason was like a weed, and as much as he’d like to see Lord Hikaru die as his brothers had—ripped apart, bloody, and broken—if he acted, his men would suffer. He already had the memories of his brothers’ deaths on his conscience, he would not add the rest of them to the list. Or his soul would not rest, even after death. As it was, the violent ends of the four would haunt his dreams. No, Rokuro would not find his vengeance through rash acts.
Kitsune: A Little Mermaid Retelling Page 2