by Fuyumi Ono
A bubble of laughter welled up.
“Right back at you. To us, personally, it don’t much matter who the phoenix is. But when it comes to riding on the wings of the phoenix and the smooth sailing we’ve all been waiting for, it can’t help but matter.”
Kinhaku glanced at the faces of the men around him. “To be sure, the girl’s not necessarily the one. Keep a close eye those going on the Shouzan. Don’t drop that phoenix. Loose the fledgling and the bill for all this good fortune will come due in a flash.”
Chapter 20
[3-4] Descending the slope, the crumbling trees and loose stones made each step a precarious one. Reaching the bottom, the firmly-rooted vegetation grew taller. The leaves were streaked with strange bands of purple, the boughs twisted into curious shapes. But the muck and leaf litter underfoot firmed up.
The travelers breathed a collective sigh of relief.
They emerged from the forest. Now a marsh confronted them. Trees thick with lumpy leaves and bushes sporting needle-like branches dotted the landscape. The path detoured around the marsh at first, but then turned toward the shore and sank beneath the murky water. It surfaced again on the banks of the opposite shore that now looked quite far away.
Where the path submerged, at some point someone had laid down stepping stones, the centers hollowed out like a wagon furrow in a road. On the marshland beyond the opposite shore sat a small mountain of rocks and perhaps a pile of chopped-down trees, vestiges of abandoned efforts to complete the walkway.
Instead of firewood, that day the goushi had gathered stones along the way. Now they threw them into the marsh. Most sank into the mud and out of sight. But one managed to poke a corner above the surface of the water.
The intent, it seemed, was that if every person going on the Shouzan made a similar contribution, at some point a passable road would emerge.
Shushou tossed in her collection of pebbles. Kinhaku bound the legs of his employer’s horse and those of his retinue with strips of cloth and secured them with thin leather straps. Shushou watched with mixed emotions, not sure whether or how much Kinhaku and Gankyuu deserved her loathing.
Kinhaku was protecting his employer. But if rendering that protection required beckoning youma and accepting the casualties that followed, wasn’t that going too far? Based on the steps they were willing to take, the safety of anybody but their employers didn’t factor into the equation.
And yet they’re guarding people who are going to Mt. Hou.
If his employer knew what his goushi had done, he would surely be furious. Or maybe he’d shrug it off the way adults did, means justified by the ends.
“This stinks,” Shushou said to herself. She really hated feeling this way. But the undeniable fact was she that she’d safely made it this far because of the goushi and koushu.
She still hadn’t resolved this moral dilemma when Gankyuu called to her. They crossed the marsh a step ahead of the others and waited on the far shore for the rest to catch up.
Kinhaku finished his preparations and stepped into the marsh. Catching up with him from behind, Shitsu Kiwa and his party mimicked Kinhaku’s movements. Kiwa’s followers descended into the marsh. Clambering to the first stepping stone, one raised a scream.
Shushou glanced up at Gankyuu. “I don’t believe it. There are youma in the marsh?”
There was a touch of the inquisitor in Shushou question. Gankyuu curtly responded, “No.”
In fact, the bellowing man had scampered atop a tree trunk. Though clearly in pain, he was in no fear for his life. A moment later the horse behind him reared.
“There something in the water.”
“Leeches, it would appear.”
Shushou glared at him. “Another one of those things you knew and said nothing about?”
“There wouldn’t be a point.”
“What kind of person are you?”
“A little late to be asking questions like that. I suppose you want me to say something like: There are leeches in the marsh. They bite. If you don’t wrap your legs with leather when you’re wading through the water, it’s gonna hurt.”
“Yes.”
“How very kind of you. And all the people who didn’t happen to bring along the right kind of leather straps, what about them?”
“They, um—”
“Or you could just laugh at them: We have kijuu, so it’s not a problem for us. Too bad for you. Would that make you feel better?”
Shushou stared daggers at him but swallowed her anger. “Couldn’t you at least ferry across the people on foot with the haku and suugu?”
“Don’t spout nonsense. The last thing we want is all of them turning to us every time the going gets tough. That’s one habit easier to not make than to break. Push comes to shove, I’m taking just you and running away fast.”
“But—”
“What’s up?” said Kinhaku, climbing the bank from the marsh.
“The young lady thinks we should be rushing to everybody’s aid.”
“That’s crazy.”
Shushou let out a loud sigh. “Now that you mention it, cooperation is not a word found in your vocabulary.”
Kinhaku held his sides and laughed.
“What?”
“Cooperation is the kind of word incompetents toss around when they find themselves up the creek without a paddle. I understand the sentiment, Miss, but people who can helping out people who can’t does not, by itself, qualify as cooperation. The word you’re looking for in that case is baggage.”
Shushou fixed her glare on Kinhaku. “I see. How koushu think is becoming quite clear to me.”
They made camp that evening on the rise of a hill in one of the expected clearings. The days had grown longer during the journey. Within the ever-present forest, it wasn’t that noticeable. But after dinner, it was still light enough to walk around.
Even taking a casual stroll warmed up Shushou enough to roll up her sleeves.
She eventually headed over to where Shitsu Kiwa was preparing dinner. There was the wagon and carriage his retinue had struggled so valiantly to haul along, with the tent pitched off the back. The fire was smaller and much less noticeable. Kiwa had eventually taken to heart the example set by the koushu.
“Well, if it isn’t Shushou!” The man himself called out to her. Kiwa was seated next to the fire. “Finally succumbed to the temptations of tent life?”
“Oh, no. Seems some of your attendants got hurt crossing the swamp.”
“Yes, those strange leeches. The men on foot got bit all over.” He added with a sigh, “And the horses too.”
“Shitsu-san, why didn’t you ask the goushi about the best way to cross the swamp?”
Kiwa blinked in surprise at the question. “I knew the goushi wrapped their legs with leather. We observed and copied what they did, but didn’t have the same kind of leather straps on hand. We ended up with a few injuries as a result.”
A smile rose to his round, full face. “Chodai and his group went off searching for a detour. They haven’t arrived yet. For their own safety, I hope they make it before it gets too dark.”
“If there was somebody here who knew more about the Yellow Sea than Gankyuu, I’d be asking him about the safest way to make the journey.”
“They’re not likely to tell you, these goushi.”
“That’s not necessarily the case. Gankyuu goes to them for advice all the time.”
“Gankyuu is a corpse hunter. They’re birds of a feather.”
“That’s not it. Really. Other people do the same thing, not just Gankyuu. Instead of just copying what they do, asking them straight out seems to me the fastest way to get the whole story. That way, everybody can travel as safely as possible.”
Kiwa raised his ring-festooned hands. “Shushou, you see, I had one my stewards go around and make subtle inquiries. But the goushi’s answers never got to the point. It might be better to simply hire one, even at this late date. But they are all committed to seeing their employers t
he rest of the way, and won’t collect the balance of their fees if they don’t. I’ve invited them over, their employers included, for dinner. Offered to share my tent. But even Gankyuu turns a deaf ear.”
“That he does.”
“I understand where the goushi are coming from. If everybody knew what they knew, the value of their services would go down. It wouldn’t be good for business. I hate to say it, but if amateurs like us don’t suffer a little now and then, the goushi will lose face in front of their employers. If going to Mt. Hou and coming back again was that easy, they wouldn’t be so eager to cough up the rest of their fees.”
“That could have something to do with it.”
“However sordid it may seem to you, Shushou, it’s not personal. It’s business.”
Shushou pinched her brows and Kiwa continued. “That’s why I didn’t hire a goushi in the first place. Those going to the Yellow Sea for commercial reasons can stand to get their hands a little dirty. Nothing wrong with that. Like I said, it’s business. Except that employing such measures to protect myself, I couldn’t look Kyouki in the face when I arrived on Mt. Hou. That’s why I choose to rely on myself as much as possible.”
Kiwa smiled and asked if there was anything bothering her, if there was anything she needed. “Not at all,” Shushou answered.
That was when word came that Ren Chodai had finally shown up. Shushou got to her feet, bid Kiwa goodnight, and went over to see for herself. Along the way, she spotted a group of goushi tussling with one of the travelers, but ignored them and instead looked for Chodai amongst the arrivals.
“Ren-san—”
A pinched expression on his face, Chodai was supervising as his attendants pitched the tent. He turned to the sound of her voice. Recognizing her his brow furrowed.
“What?” he said.
“Did you find a detour?”
“Well—” he prevaricated. But some of his retinue were holding their legs and moaning so clearly they hadn’t fully skirted the swamp.
“The goushi know a lot about the Yellow Sea. Why not ask for their opinion?”
Chodai plainly scowled. “The Lord God Creator doesn’t need people who can’t take a simple journey without depending on strangers.”
“But the Lord God Creator doesn’t need people who are dead, either. You could ask the goushi for their travel tips, or at least observe them and do what they do. Couldn’t you avoid the worse of the dangers that way? That’s what Shitsu-san does. He’s suffered fewer dead and injured than you as a result.”
Chodai hiked up his eyebrows. “Are you saying that I don’t measure up to Kiwa?”
“No—I—that’s not what I meant.”
“I am crossing the Yellow Sea by my own wits and reason. That’s the best way I can prove my worthiness to be emperor.”
“I see,” Shushou muttered, and turned to leave. “While I understand such obstinacy, it’s a pity your retinue has to suffer for it.”
Shushou intended to beat a quick retreat. She felt her temper rising. Chodai was free to be as stubborn as the mood struck him, go searching for detours all day long. Except his attendants were the ones scouting out the unfamiliar terrain.
“The emperor has to be a heroic figure,” Chodai voice chased after her, raw with barely-constrained anger.
Shushou stopped and looked back at him.
“Isn’t it the most preeminent of a kingdom’s citizens who becomes emperor? What man who bends his knee to another could be considered preeminent?”
“My professor at school used to say that the man who cannot respect others will himself never be so respected.”
“So you’re saying to be like Kiwa and respect the goushi by copying what they do? If respect is what you mean, wouldn’t the natural thing be to try and stand toe-to-toe with them? The goushi have a detailed knowledge of the Yellow Sea. Because it’s their occupation. But if you respect the goushi, the proper response is to learn what it takes to cross the Yellow Sea like them. Not curry favor and ape what they do and lower yourself to the level of their underlings.”
Shushou stared up at Chodai’s thin face.
“I respect the goushi’s knowledge of the Yellow Sea. But right now, where we are, they have no intention of rushing to the aid of those in harm’s way. And I have no intention of begging for their help. Simply because they have a more thorough knowledge of the Yellow Sea in no way obliges them to take on the burdens of those less informed.”
“I know. I know that very well.”
“Why they cannot is understandable. Their job is to protect their employers. But it is true that travelers unaccustomed to the Yellow Sea require the assistance of those who know it well, like the goushi. If the goushi can’t provide that knowledge, then I will. Alas, I do not know what they know. So I must learn through repeated trial and error.”
“Would asking them be faster than trial and error?”
“When you were in school, did your professors only give you the answers to every question on the test?”
“Ah, um, no.” Shushou sighed. With a wave of her hand she said, “Sorry for being a bee in your bonnet,” and spun on her heels.
She hadn’t gotten far before running into Rikou. “It’s getting dark, Miss. Gankyuu is fit to be tied.”
“Well, then we can apologize to him together,” Shushou quipped. But as she fell in beside Rikou she let out a long breath.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s just so very complicated, everything about all this.”
Chapter 21
[3-5] Given that the Yellow Sea was not a place made for human habitation, traveling there entailed certain hardships. This made perfect sense to Shushou. No proper roads, no inns, no shops. Youma roamed at will. Spending a single night in the Yellow Sea put the strongest man’s life at risk.
“That’s what I heard,” Shushou said, leaning forward as she climbed the seemingly endless slope.
The fact was, there were roads in the Yellow Sea, like the one she was walking on right then.
“What’s that?” Rikou said.
Shushou shrugged. “I heard there weren’t any roads in the Yellow Sea. So I thought it’d been like entering uncharted wilderness. I once went to the mountains to gather chestnuts. We had to push through the undergrowth, clear branches out the way, grab onto the trunks of trees on the way up and cling to clumps of grass on the way down. I thought it’d be something like that. The biggest problem was losing your sense of direction. You had to find somebody who knew the mountains like the back of his hand and wheedle out of him the best way to figure out where you were and where you should be going.”
“Oh, really?”
Rikou grinned at her. Shushou flashed him a wry smile in turn and sighed.
“But the Yellow Sea has roads. At least up to this point, it’s not like I’ve been thinking about how much better things would be if there were a real highway. Much worse is walking and walking and never arriving anywhere like a city or town.”
“How’s that?”
“If you’re walking on a real highway and get tired, you can look for the nearest town. Necessities can be picked up along the way. If you’re hungry, you can buy something to eat. If you’re thirsty, you can stop at a village and borrow of bucket of water from a well. But that’s not what I’m talking about. On my way to Ken, I often slept in the crawl spaces of mausoleums. I thought that camping out in the Yellow Sea would be something like that. But the two have nothing in common. When you camp out along a highway, there’s always a town nearby where you can stock up on supplies.”
Shushou leaned over to pick up a promising piece of firewood.
Kinhaku said, half in surprise, half in jest, “A road isn’t a flat strip of land that goes on and on. A road is the road and what surrounds it, where travelers harbor no fear of starving to death or dying of thirst, where they can rest when they get tired. By that definition, there definitely are no roads in the Yellow Sea.”
For the past two days, Kinhak
u and his companions had been here, there, and everywhere, and always in shouting distance. More than that, the groups with koushu guides had clearly begun to close ranks.
“You’ve got a lot of pluck. So that’s the kind of thing you ponder while walking through the Yellow Sea?”
“Of course. How does one become a goushi or shushi?”
Kinhaku gave Shushou a startled look. “A strange thing to express an interest in. Thinking of becoming one when you grow up?”
Shushou said, giving Gankyuu a sharp, sidelong glance in the process, “Well, becoming empress takes precedence. But, sure. If being empress isn’t in the cards then being a shushi doesn’t sound half bad.”
Kinhaku burst out laughing. Walking alongside Shushou, Rikou chortled as well.
“Go ahead and laugh. And then you can tell me that shushi are unique among the koushu and that just wanting to be one doesn’t make it so.”
Whenever Shushou said she wanted to become something, the grownups around her would smile and said exactly that.
“Adults always think of themselves first. Say you want to catch a lot of kijuu and become a stable master and they laugh and say you’re being childish. They claim that wanting something doesn’t make it so. But say you want to try for a government position that simply requires graduating from a university and they’ll tell you that becoming a government official isn’t something you should worry your little head about at your age. It really starts to gets on your nerves.”
“That’s not what I was going to say and not why I laughed,” Kinhaku said with a smile and a wave of his hand. “It’s just that weighing your options like that, empress on one hand and shushi on the other, caught me off guard. You like kijuu, Shushou?”
“I do. That’s why a shushi or a wrangler would be a good profession. Truth is, training kijuu is something I’d like to try. But adults won’t tell you how to become a wrangler. How do you?”
“First of all, your parents have to be itinerants.”
“You mean it comes down to your parents?” Shushou glanced at the annoyed-looking Gankyuu, who nodded.
Kinhaku only chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what it comes down to. Your parents become itinerants or refugees. In order to put food in their mouths, they sell their kid to the master of a goushi or shushi guild house. You apprentice as a kid and become a koushu as a adult.”