The Twelve Kingdoms: Dreaming of Paradise

by Fuyumi Ono

  The Chousai convened the Rikkan and together they converged upon Jinjuu Manor. Finally, Shuka alone was granted an audience.

  Shuka wondered why the Chousai, the head of the Rikkan, had not himself sought an audience. But now it was obvious that Sairin could no longer leave her sickbed. Hence Shuka, the sole woman in the Rikkan, had been allowed to see her.

  She is ill. The downfall of the Shishou Dynasty had begun. Seeing Sairin's condition made it clear.

  "Daishito—" said the lady in waiting. Her unspoken message was that it was time to leave.

  Shuka stood there wordlessly, head bowed. The weeping Sairin still clung to the withered branch. Shuka nodded. She touched Sairin's hand.

  "Taiho, I have to leave now. Please rest and be well."

  Sairin looked up at her, horror in her eyes. "Shuka, you're not going to abandon me as well?"

  "There is nobody in Sai that could abandon the Taiho."

  "But His Highness has. Sai and me and everybody."

  "Oh, that can't be true. They wouldn't do that. It's just that everybody is as such loose ends and all. It won't be long until His Highness is back to his old self."

  She forced a painful smile to her lips. But Sairin shook her head forcefully. "That's not true. Not in the slightest. He said he would show me his dreams."

  "And I'm sure he will. But there are bound to be setbacks while building for a long dynasty. That's all this is."

  "You're lying!" Sairin cried out. The only vibrant thing in her drawn, enervated face was the color of her eyes, eyes that relentlessly followed her. And even they seemed colored by animosity. Shuka could not believe that this young girl, the incarnation of benevolence, could be capable of such an expression.

  "A vision of paradise—" Her hoarse voice made it sound like a curse. She tightly clasped the branch to her chest, as if clinging to her last hope.

  "Taiho, you need to rest."

  "From the start, it was nothing but a dream. And drifting farther and farther away." She grabbed Shuka's arm as if to prevent her from leaving. "Help me. It is too unbearable. I feel as if I'm being torn limb from limb."

  Shuka couldn't think of anything to say. The thin fingers dug into her flesh.

  "Taiho, please—"

  The lady in waiting intervened between them. With a look she urged her to withdraw. "Daishito, you should take your leave as well."

  Shuka bowed and turned toward the door. Behind her she heard a thin, high scream. "You're lying! You're lying! Not once have these dreams ever come true in Sai!"

  Chapter 3

  Shuka left the room, the girl's screams stinging in her ears like a whip on her back.

  How did it come to this?

  In the beginning, Shishou was an outsider whose praises she'd heard being sung. He'd been accepted into college at breakneck speed. His professors had filled his card in a mere two years.

  University graduates usually went into government service. Or rather than starting out as a clerk or undersecretary in some lowly bureaucratic post, it was also common practice to accept a military commission as a junior grade officer right out of college. Shishou had designs on a generalship, and his future was all but guaranteed.

  But Shishou hated the king and wanted no part of the government. And so he resigned his post.

  At that time, Sai was ruled by King Fu. The dynasty was coming to a close and the kingdom was crumbling. Bad governance and foolish laws followed one after the other. The criticism of the ministers only made King Fu more intemperate. Drowning his sorrows in women and alcohol, he allowed his duties to go by the wayside.

  Most of the ministers who were critical of the king were ignored or replaced. These ousted ministers offered Shishou patronage. In Yuunei, he pulled together a band of fellow sympathizers, and the voices of censure grew louder. A similar band of young activists outraged at King Fu's misrule gathered around him. Shuka counted herself among them.

  The movement led by Shishou eventually gained the support of the people. They called themselves "Kouto." During the dynasty of King Fu, it was Shishou who led the people and fought the insanities that he wrought, and fought the devastation after King Fu died.

  As soon as the flag was raised over the Rishi, Shishou went on the Shouzan. As everybody expected, Sairin chose him as the next king. This imperial accession was one that seemed right and proper. Not only Sairin, but everybody who knew Shishou believed in the new king. It was inconceivable that the dynasty should begin to founder after only twenty years.

  Shuka left the courtyard almost at a run. Back in the palace annex, the Rikkan was waiting in a high state of anxiety. Seeing her, several rose from their chairs. Feeling the weight of their expectations, Shuka looked away.

  The head of the Rikkan had, like Shuka and so many members of Kouto, entered the Imperial Court in his relative youth. With their ideals guiding them, they had banded together to fight the downfall of the kingdom. Shuka was well aware of their temperaments. The trust they placed in the new king and the expectations they had for the new court were reflections of their own hopes and aspirations. They couldn't bring themselves to admit aloud that things could have gone so badly.

  They grasped the situation from the look on Shuka's face alone. Their countenances filled with bitter mortification. Those who had risen to their feet sat down again in exhausted resignation. The silence filled with strained sighs. One of them finally arose and in a low voice urged them to leave. It was Shuka's husband, Eishuku, the Chousai.

  "Sitting here won't accomplish anything. We have confirmed the truth of what we needed to know. With these doubts settled, we must think seriously about how to address it." He looked at the rest of the Rikkan, who appeared too drained to even raise their voices in reply. "What's to be gained from giving up? Now is the time for us to roll up their sleeves and get to work."

  In response to Eishuku's scolding, the members of the Rikkan nodded. With pensive faces, they got to their feet and shuffled from the room, leaving Shuka and Eishuku behind. Eishuku finally departed as well, with Shuka hurrying to keep up.

  He asked in a low voice, "Do you think she will recover?"

  "That—of course—"

  —is a forgone conclusion, she wanted to answer, but couldn't force the words out of her mouth. Examples of a Saiho recovering from the shitsudou were few and far between.

  Shishou was the king fated to rule this kingdom. On top of that, he was Eishuku's older cousin and long-time friend. Eishuku had grown up more like Shishou's brother. Even after Shishou left their home town, their unrivaled friendship continued, and when he went to Yuunei and organized Kouto, Eishuku was the first to join. They raised the banner of righteousness and fought the destruction of the kingdom.

  They even made the Shouzan together. From the founding of the new court until now, Eishuku had been Shishou's number one supporter. He couldn't bring himself to say that Shishou had exhausted the Mandate of Heaven. Or perhaps he was simple incapable of articulating the sorrow he felt at the moment.

  As if sensing the reason for Shuka's hesitancy, Eishuku stopped in the corridor and pressed his fingers to his temples. He hung his head in obvious distress and moaned softly. Shuka couldn't think of what to say, so instead she pressed her hand against his back.

  In the adjoining courtyard, a peach tree was in full bloom. The flowers petals danced and scattered in the wind, like a dreamworld dissolving. There was something terribly sad about the sight.

  Dreaming of Paradise—

  It may have all been a dream. Thirty years before, Shuka was nothing more than an angry young student outraged at the mismanaged reign of King Fu. When she moved to Yuunei to attend the district academy, she joined Kouto and met Shishou.

  There they had nursed a single dream. They believed that if everyone shared that dream and saw it through to fruition then Eden awaited them. The glorious past they shared together, arguing through the night about the world they would make, leading the people against King Fu's corrupt rule and then a
gainst the devastation that followed.

  During those heady times, Shuka and Eishuku had pledged to stand behind Shishou all the way. Shuka was twenty-two, Eishuku twenty-six, and Shishou twenty-five. A mere three years later, Shishou was placed upon the throne.

  Thinking back about it now, it seemed like an impossible dream. They had been so alive and so young—surrounded, it seemed, in a brilliant white light that was now painful to behold.

  Eishuku finally raised his head. "What do you think we should do next, Shuka?"

  "Whether or not the Taiho recovers all depends on whether Shishou can be brought back in accordance with the Way. If we could somehow remonstrate with him—"

  "And how would we do that?"

  Shuka didn't have a ready answer.

  "What would we remonstrate with him about? Where has Shishou gone wrong?"

  Shuka only shook her head. If I knew that—

  "We don't know what to remonstrate with him about, yet we're supposed to take him to task? Shishou?"

  Shuka had no counter-argument here either. Had Shishou, like King Fu, abandoned the government for a life of debauchery, or if he was committing outrages against the people, she could understand the source of the shitsudou. There would be something for them to criticize.

  But since his coronation, Shishou had devoted himself whole-heartedly to the job. As far as Shuka could see, he hadn't deviated from the Way since acceding to the throne. From every possible appearance, the kingdom appeared to be on the right track, and Shishou's deportment suggested no possible reason for the shitsudou.

  Yet when she directed her attention elsewhere, that Sairin would be suffering the shitsudou became obvious. The Imperial Court remained frayed at the edges. The land remained in distress and the people impoverished. Despite a reign of little more than twenty years, critical voices could be heard among his subjects.

  This was because Sairin was not well, it was said, and rumors of the shitsudou soon abounded. Clearly Sai was failing.

  Shishou must know that as well. Sairin's already fair features had faded and grown paler. Since the New Year, she'd increasingly voiced complaints about her condition. Shishou had expressed the proper alarm, but took it as a divine trial that would soon enough be surmounted. They need only stick to the straight and narrow and work harder and Sairin's condition would improve. The kingdom would right itself.

  Heaven, he had lectured the ministers encouragingly, was giving them these trials in order to test their mettle.

  Shuka looked away from her husband and stared at the dreamlike scene of the falling peach petals. The dream was taking its leave of them, like spring lingered too long in the gardens, the petals eventually scattering and fading away.

  Chapter 4

  The next day, the Privy Council began in a gloomy mood. The six ministers met in the antechamber of the Imperial Court. They sat there in silence, eyes not meeting. Despite the imposition of a code of silence, news of Sairin's condition was being whispered about. And the accusing glances were directed at the one person who had met with Sairin face-to-face: Shuka.

  Eishuku hadn't returned to the ministerial residence the night before. Shuka didn't know whether this was due to the demands of his work, or because he'd been conferring with Shishou. Seeking him out in the antechamber, she found him slumped over in a corner of the antechamber, eyes downcast. He looked depressed.

  The gong rang, bringing the meeting to order. The ministers lined up and solemnly proceeded from the antechamber into the Gaiden. Nobody spoke as they walked down the short corridor. It was not a long walk to the Gaiden, but by the time they arrived the tension covered them like a blanket.

  They entered the Gaiden and arranged themselves in a line and knelt down. The tenseness all around them felt like needles jabbed into the skin.

  Nobody dared looked directly at the throne. The gong sounded a different tone. The pearl curtain was lowered. The ministers all realized that they had been holding their breaths. Behind the curtain the figure of the king appeared, the man who had ostensibly departed from the Divine Will.

  The sound of the slight rustling of fabric echoed around the room, cutting the silence like a knife. The gong rang again and the curtain was raised before the kneeling ministers. Shuka did not wish to raise her forehead from the floor. At this moment, nothing could be more trying than beholding Shisho's face.

  But the command came from the Taisai of the Ministry of Heaven to raise their heads and Shuka found herself looking directly at the throne. There her faltering gaze met the jet black throne and Shishou seated upon it.

  The sight struck her like a blow to the chest. He was wearing a black and yellow silk jacket. Seated in the throne encrusted with mother-of-pearl, arrayed against a folding screen covered with gold leaf, Shishou appeared as stunning as always. His well-exercised physique, his intelligent mien, eyes still brimming with ambition, bright with the majesty of his office.

  The Taisai's order was followed by three strikes of the gong. Eishuku rose to his feet to read the meeting's itinerary. Before he could begin, Shishou held up his hand. He gazed down upon the ministers. Then his deep, ringing voice rang out in tones as crisp and clear as when he'd led Kouto.

  "The Taiho's health has again prevented her from attending today's session." Addressing the ministers specifically, he said, "I've been hearing many disquieting rumors about the Taiho's condition. The Rikkan appears to be gripped by doubts sufficient to bring the Imperial Court to a standstill. And yet, as I have stated time and again, there is no reason for us to slow our pace or retreat."

  Illustration

  The eyes of all the ministers remained focused on Shishou.

  "Is it possible that governing a kingdom should be an easy thing? Do you think we could march merrily forward with no obstacles in our way and no uncertainties holding us back? If all our paths were straight and even, would a government ever lose its way? Would a king ever stray from the Way? The road ahead will only grow more difficult."

  Shishou added forcefully, "However, I have seen the kingdom as it should be. That is the belief that propelled me on the Shouzan, and according to which I received the Mandate of Heaven. Ever since then, I have been surveying the road leading us to that ideal. Losing sight of that ideal is as good as parting from the Way. But I have seen what our kingdom can become, and I shall be laying the groundwork that will take us there. No matter how rough the terrain may be, do not doubt that we are headed in the right direction. If you question the strength of my convictions, it cannot be because I am confused in the slightest about our goals. It is because your ideals have faltered in the face of the steep and precipitous climb that awaits us."

  Shuka caught her breath. Her ideals were indeed in a state of flux. And that was because of the irreconcilable reality before her. She could beat her head against that wall and it would not budge. She could not erase the question in her mind—that the ideals held out to them had been flawed from the onset.

  As if he could read her mind, Shishou's gaze singled her out in the front row of ministers. A slight smile came to his lips. "I have not wavered in the slightest. I see as clearly as I ever have—what should have been clear to you as well all along."

  Shishou glanced at the row of ministers kneeling there in the Gaiden. Shishou said in a strong, self-assured voice, "There will be no yielding to despair or confusion. Our will must not be broken!"

  As if battered by his words, the Daishikou kneeling next to Shuka bent his body even lower. The robes of the kowtowing ministers to her right and left rustled like falling leaves. Only the image of profound discouragement on the exhausted Eishuku's face swam into the vision of the bewildered Shuka.

  He turned his face away, sighed, and then glanced over his shoulder at the ministers. His eyes met hers. He subtly shook his head

  With a great sense of sorrow, Shuka lowered her head. So that's that. Eishuku must have visited Shishou the night before. They would have spent the night hashing over Sai's problems and Sairin's
condition. Her crushing realization was that Shishou's pronouncement must be the product of the night's discussion.

  Any doubts about Shishou or misgivings about his ideals would be put down to disappointed expectations and a lack of fortitude.

  And yet— Shuka had seen Sairin. If she wasn't suffering from the shitsudou, then what? This incarnation of charity had cursed Shuka from her sickbed—with a look that spoke more of a heart filled with hate.

  Chapter 5

  Shuka persevered through the Privy Council, feeling like a cold, black lump was lodged in the pit of her stomach. Sitting in Shishou's field of view alone was unbearable. Even after the Privy Council had concluded and she was out of his presence, her anxieties grew all the keener. She returned to the manse overwhelmed by the oppressive gloom surrounding her.

  "Welcome home," said Seiki, her valet, upon her arrival at the residence. And then, "Are you all right?" He'd probably been informed about her return by the watchman. He had prepared two cups of tea. They sat down and he studied her face. "You look even worse than when you left."

  "I'm okay. Just a little tired."

  "Oh, is that it?" he replied in an unconvinced tone of voice. He placed the teacup on the table. Mumbling something about the air being bad and the light being too strong, he hurried around opening the windows. Then he turned down the wick on the lamp, moved the folding screens around, and generally straightened up the room.

  Seiki had a small, round frame, and the way he flitted about the room reminded Shuka of a pudgy sparrow. She finally was able to sit back and take a breath. He'd always had that uncanny ability to put her at ease.