by Fuyumi Ono
“You can be one mean little kid.”
“Not as bad as you, Gankyuu. Do you think we’ll meet up with Rikou and the goushi?”
“Dunno. We’ll figure out something.” Gankyuu carefully folded the shawl. They still had a few miles to go before it’d become necessary. “Seeing that we had the good fortune to run into one of the gods of the Gyokkei, running into the goushi should be a piece of cake.”
“That’s right. I am an extremely lucky person. That luck saved you too, wouldn’t you say, Gankyuu?” Shushou smiled as she fastened the travel packs to the saddle.
Gankyuu climbed into the saddle and reached down for her. “Considering what we’ve gone though up to this point, I’m getting you to Mt. Hou no matter what. We’ll think about what comes next after that.”
“If the empress business doesn’t work out, I am going to become a koushu. How about you take me on as an apprentice, Gankyuu?”
He said with a wry smile, “You do have parents, don’t you, Shushou?”
“Of course I do.”
“You don’t like them?” Gankyuu asked as they descended along the bank of the stream.
“It’s not that I don’t. But I really can’t respect them. Their way of coping with life is to put more bars on the windows and hire more bodyguards. When I ask them why they don’t go on the Shouzan, they laugh and say they’re just humble merchants.”
“Aren’t they very wealthy merchants?”
“The commodities trade alone is huge. My father has every other government official in Renshou on the take and exploits the chaos to expand his trading opportunities. He recruits refugees and makes them indentured servants. Using that dirt-cheap labor, he beats down the price of grain in distressed farming areas, corners the market, and jacks up the prices in places where people are on the verge of starvation. There’s nothing to admire about a man like that.”
“Oh.”
“Since I’ve been a member of the family all along, it’d make sense to stick around for the long haul. It’s not like I don’t feel a sense of obligation for being given a life so much better than most other people. But when I turn eighteen and receive my allotment, I’m leaving home. My brothers sold their allotments and joined the family business. Not me.”
Shushou twisted around and glanced up at Gankyuu. “If I became your apprentice, I wouldn’t have to wait until I was eighteen.”
“Becoming an apprentice may be out of your reach even now. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about what you’ll do as empress?”
“As empress—” Shushou muttered to herself, turning to look at Gankyuu again. “How about this? If I don’t, then you take me on as your apprentice. If I do, then you become my retainer.”
Gankyuu grinned. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. People are dying in Renshou, getting attacked by youma. Once you’ve seen Ken, it makes sense why. Renshou isn’t prepared to deal with youma in the slightest. If the whole kingdom were as well defended as Ken, and even half the koushu were available to teach people the best ways to deal with youma, the casualties would go down a whole lot.”
Gankyuu only shook his head. “That’s not something you need to worry about. Once the throne is filled, the youma will go away.”
“Yeah, what everybody says. It speaks volumes that nobody was prepared for the destruction. When there’s an emperor and life is good, people only care about making their way up in the world. They don’t seriously consider the downside until the throne is vacant.”
“Of course.”
“If I become empress, the goushi will be out of a job. If they all become shushi, they’ll produce a surplus and the market for kijuu will collapse. In that case, joining the civil service will pay a lot better, no?”
“Government work isn’t exactly suited to my temperament.”
“Then I’ll hire you as a goushi. The kingdom’s been going downhill for a while now. The place is overrun with harpies a lot nastier than mere youma. When you’re not working as my bodyguard, you can travel here to the Yellow Sea and hunt kijuu for me. Hunting kijuu will be more enjoyable once I make you a wizard. At least you’ll fare better the next time a youma takes a swipe at you with its talons.”
“Well, I’ll think about it.”
Is this the child or the adult? Gankyuu mused to himself. It was undoubtedly the child who, aroused by the ruin around her, impulsively decided to go on the Shouzan. But successfully executing such an audacious plan was an extraordinary achievement for any adult, let alone a child.
“Oh, that’s right,” Shushou piped up. “Those bastards who prowl about Ken hunting other people’s kijuu, they’re first on my agenda.”
Gankyuu laughed out loud.
At that moment, “Ahoy!” called out a third voice. They looked up to see a kijuu galloping down the slope of a nearby hill. The kijuu was a suugu.
“Wow! It’s Seisai. Rikou came to meet us.”
“He did a good job of finding us, considering how far we’ve come from where we fought it out with that harpy.”
“Indeed. Maybe he tracked our scent.”
Shushou laughed and raised her arm. The suugu covered the rest of the slope with a flying jump and landed a few yards away from the haku.
“You two seem to have made it through okay.”
Shushou puffed out her chest a bit. “Because I was there. You’re looking good too, Rikou. Did you meet up with the goushi?”
“Without you, though.”
“And a good thing, too.”
Rikou chuckled. He dismounted and patted the suugu on the neck. Seisai leapt high into the air, landed on the top of the hill, looked over the other side and then back at them.
“The goushi? They came all the way here?”
“Yep,” Rikou said with a nod.
“They sure didn’t have any trouble finding us. I was saying how maybe they followed our scent.”
“Your scent? Well, there is that. What with all the commotion, it wasn’t hard tracking you down.”
Shushou tilted her head to the side and peered back at Gankyuu. Gankyuu appeared no less confused than her. Rikou didn’t say anything more. He reached up. The still perplexed Shushou took his hand and climbed out of the saddle.
Urging Gankyuu forward, Rikou asked. “How’s that leg of yours?”
“It’s fine, thanks again to Shushou’s good luck. What’s going on?”
Rikou said with a sly grin, “A big commotion.” He gave the haku a grateful pat on the neck. “Nice to see you in one piece too.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I do think myself more suited to a haku. It’d be fine with me if you want to take back the suugu.”
“I wouldn’t mind but I think the haku would.”
Shushou bit back a laugh. “Oh, that’s not it. The haku is special.”
“Don’t ask,” Gankyuu said, as Rikou led them forward.
“Because he’s got the best name in the whole world. A shushi like Gankyuu can never let him go.”
“I told you—” Gankyuu started to say. At the top of the hill, Seisai waved his magnificently long tail.
“They’re here.”
Rikou narrowed his eyes. A cloud of dust rose up beyond the hill. A rokushoku came over the top of the hill, followed by a whole company of kijuu. With Seisai in the lead, they nimbly descended the steep slope.
Shushou gaped at the sight. So did Gankyuu. Crowded among the plainly attired goushi were women in brightly-colored kimonos. Stranger still, one of the thirty or so kijuu riders was a man she didn’t recognize. He was astride a youma. Not a kijuu, clearly a youma. His golden hair flashed beneath the azure sky like a wave of polished copper.
Gankyuu and Shushou were momentarily at a loss for words.
“Gankyuu, that’s—”
“He most likely is.”
Shushou turned to Rikou. “Why in the world is the kirin coming here?”
“I can only think of one good reason.”
“One good reason?”
Gankyuu took in
the approaching company and grinned. “Yeah, they’re here to meet us.”
“Meet us? What for?”
“What do you think?”
“But who?”
Rikou chuckled. “I was born in Sou. And Gankyuu—”
“I was born in Ryuu. And I’m pretty sure the haku was born in the Yellow Sea.”
“But—” Shushou sputtered.
Rikou clapped her on the shoulder. “Alas, only one person here was born in Kyou.”
“You can’t be serious.” Shushou clung to Gankyuu’s side. “What am I supposed to do?”
Gankyuu patted the dumbfounded girl on the back. “You and your luck reeled in a wizard and now a kirin. What is there left to say?”
A girl with the kind of good fortune that could reel in an entire kingdom. There was only one thing left to say: But of course.
“Go.”
Gankyuu gave her a gentle push. She took two steps and looked back in confusion. Leaning against the haku, Gankyuu pointed with his finger. Rikou smiled and motioned with his hand for her to keep going.
She nodded and walked on, meeting the company at the base of the hill.
The goushi were there, Kinhaku among them, along with an anxious Shoutan. The women she didn’t recognize must be wizardesses from Mt. Hou.
Shushou stood there paralyzed. They all dismounted and knelt on the ground. It’d make sense if they were bowing to the kirin. But why were the wizardesses and the goushi bowing to her?
Only the man with a bright, friendly face and the head of copper hair remained in the saddle. For a long minute, he took in the girl in front of him. His eyes narrowed. He smiled with relief and joy. He dismounted. Despite his large, sturdy frame, he moved with an effortless grace, alighting on the ground without a sound.
“Um—” said the bewildered Shushou.
He walked up to her and knelt down. “I have come to see you,” he said with another genuine smile, the words ringing with faint and haunting reverberations.
“Um, me?”
“Yes, you.”
The expression on his face struck her as that of a man who had just met with the most extraordinary stroke of good luck.
“Really?”
He nodded. “I could sense your Imperial spirit all the way from Mt. Hou.”
Shushou took a good hard look at him. She’d commandeered Keika’s kimono, run away from home on a moukyoku, left Renshou in the middle of winter, and crossed Kyou to the Yellow Sea. Looking back on it now, she realized she’d covered a staggering distance.
In that moment, an irrepressible impulse arose from the back of her brain. Shushou raised her right hand. The company watched in amazement and winced in unison as the little girl biffed the big man across the top of his head.
“Then why didn’t you show up when I was born, you darned silly fool!”
The kirin looked up at her in stunned disbelief. The girl’s young cheeks flushed bright red. Her shoulders dropped and she let out a long breath. A smile rose to her lips.
The kirin smiled as well, from the bottom of his heart, and bowed his head low to the ground.
Postscript
A small black dot appeared high in the skies above the Yellow Sea.
It headed due south, gliding above the Sea of Clouds, crossed the Kongou Mountains, and emerged into the skies over the Red Sea at the southern tip of the Yellow Sea.
The black dot continued on its southward path across the bright blue waters. A day and a night later it came to the borders of Sou, the southernmost of the eight contiguous kingdoms. Maintaining the same trajectory, it finally disappeared over the horizon toward Ryuukou, the imperial capital.
Seikan Palace snaked along the peaks of the Mt. Ryuukou, the capital of Sou. This was the imperial residence of the renowned Emperor of Sou.
Rising more prominently above the Sea of Clouds than the mountain summit itself, the alabaster palaces jutting out over the water, the multistoried pagodas, the gardens, and the white stone bridges and corridors connecting them came together to form a single palace structure.
Abutting the inner palace at the very back was the Enshin, the compound that constituted the imperial living quarters. A large courtyard bordered a calm pool of water in which reflected the shimmering arc of the Milky Way.
A court lady quietly appeared on the portico surrounding the courtyard. She knelt and bowed to the woman standing there.
“Ah, Taiho, there you are.”
The Taiho turned and smiled softly. Her golden hair was streaked with silver. The court lady bowed lower.
“His Excellency has returned.”
“Oh?” the Taiho said in her crystal clear voice. She thanked the court lady and proceeded to Jinjuu Manor.
The living foundation of this long-lived dynasty, she was officially known as Sourin. She had placed the present Emperor of Sou on the throne.
It was a fair distance from Jinjuu Manor to the main hall of the Rokuchou. Sourin declined an offer to have a boat summoned and instead crossed through Jinjuu Manor to the Rokuchou at the back of the inner palace. She bowed and entered the room.
Flanked by several assistants, the emperor was changing out of his ceremonial traveling robes.
“Welcome back, Your Highness.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, Shoushou,” he said with a broad smile.
He was a man in his fifties, a big man in fine physical condition. The uncommon Emperor of Sou who’d bestowed on Sourin the name of Shoushou. Or it might be said that doing so was part and parcel of being an uncommon man.
“How fares Kou Province?” she asked with a welcoming nod.
“The harbor is coming along splendidly,” he answered with a jolly grin.
Having shed his formal attire, he strode deeper into the building. She followed him. The custom of the Rokuchou being assigned to the emperor as his main residence and Jinjuu manor being assigned to the kirin was not followed in Sou. The emperor and the kirin resided in Tenshou Manor in the middle of the expansive Koukyuu, otherwise known as “the palace at the back.”
Ministers and bureaucrats were forbidden from the Koukyuu. Only a select number of attendants and the emperor’s closest relatives lived there.
“Just what you’d expect of engineers from the Kingdom of En. You should see the anchorage they built, Shoushou.”
“It must really be something.”
“Yes,” he said, with a strong hint of pride.
His name was Ro Senshin. Shoushou found him in Kou Province, where he was managing a large harbor inn. Her visit scared the living daylights out of him. But that too was a story from a very long time ago.
Word had already been sent, so when the two of them arrived at Tenshou manor, his bodyguards were waiting for them. (As he paid them out of his own funds, “bodyguard” was probably the best word.) They opened the doors with amiable bows.
Walking through Tenjin Manor to the Seiden, Senshin talked to Shoushou about the changes taking place in his beloved harbor town. Inside the Seiden, three people were seated around the big table. They stood as soon as Senshin came in and bowed.
Their official titles were Queen Sou, Prince Eisei, and Princess Bun (often shortened to “Bunki”).
“Welcome home,” the three intoned in proper and dignified voices.
Though her bow was a tad more respectful than the rest, Bunki was the first to raise her head and ask, “Your Highness, how was Kou Province?”
Senshin nodded and sat down. “Kou is doing splendidly. Now, let’s see: one, two, three, and Shoushou makes four. We’re missing the fifth. Where is that prodigal son of ours?”
He looked at the queen. She sighed deeply. “Not only has he not come home, but we haven’t the slightest idea what he’s been up to these days.”
Senshin echoed his wife’s sigh. “He goes missing for a full six months at a time.”
“And yet knowing that, you indulge his whims and let him fly about free as a bird.”
“After giving my broth
er a kijuu like that, did you expect him to show up anytime soon?”
Assailed by his son on his left and his daughter on his right, Senshin slumped back in his chair and groaned.
“Stop it, you two,” scolded Shoushou. “I told you before, your poor father can’t defend himself when you gang up on him like that.”
“Did you now?” Senshin wondered aloud, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
Bunki thrust out her hand. “‘More importantly, father, where are our souvenirs?”
“Ah.” Senshin reached into his pockets and drew out the packages. Shoushou watched, smiling, as they unwrapped the presents.
The emperor of the Kingdom of Sou built a dynasty that had lasted five hundred years. Only the emperor of the Kingdom of En approached the length of his reign and the acclaim he was accorded across the Twelve Kingdoms.
Though few knew that the emperor was not, in fact, one person.
To be sure, Shoushou, the kirin of Sou, had chosen a single man, Senshin, to be emperor. But a single man did not built the dynasty he led.
When Shoushou first sought out Senshin in her search for an emperor, he was the master of an inn in a run-down harbor town. The fame of the inn reached beyond the borders of the town thanks to the management of Senshin and his wife, Meiki, and their three children.
Senshin was a pillar of his community and the head of his family, a bighearted, clearheaded man not given to impulsive behavior. He consulted with his wife and children about everything and respected their opinions. Half of the inn’s success he credited to them and endeavored to keep them involved every step along the way.
He brought that system with him when he ascended to the throne, the only substantial change being that now Shoushou joined in the consultations.
Meiki and his children did not hold any actual ministerial portfolios. Aside from being officially titled queen, prince, and princess, they did not participate in the affairs of the imperial court, and were widely thought to pass their time quietly in the Koukyuu.
In fact, the four of them exercised imperial authority equal to that of the emperor.
Well, to be precise, three-and-a-half of them, Shoushou thought, and smiled to herself.