by Fuyumi Ono
Or perhaps--and as she examined the state of her own being, the thought send chills down her spine--the impurities gathering within Taiki's shadow were not solely external, but came from themselves.
Sanshi drove away all those who attempted to do Taiki harm. And every time she sensed the golden glow corroding and dimming. But as far as she was concerned, she didn't have a choice.
She was his foster mother, born from the golden fruit at the same time as he, and destined to share the entirety of his life with him. When the end of his days arrived, so would hers as well. Such was the extent to which she lived her life through him. Taiki chose the king and then descended from the place of his birth to become the Saiho. Even though no longer the child that Sanshi had raised, she lived to serve him as she always had.
Gouran was no different. To be sure, Gouran had not been born for Taiki's sake. But the covenant that bound them was as fast as that binding Taiki and Sanshi. The covenant between kirin and shirei was on a par with that between king and kirin. So not only Sanshi, but Gouran as well existed to protect and serve Taiki.
How long could they stand by silently and watch injury pile upon injury? If according to the Taiki's command, or for the king whom Taiki served with all his heart and soul, they could endure and even approve of the suffering he incurred. But no such reasons were forthcoming.
Only a warning at first. Those who showed him any disrespect had to understand that a price must be paid. But the incivilities did not cease. Sanshi had no choice but to impress upon them what a grievous mistake it was to take Taiki for granted. Reason compelled her and Gouran to condone his imprisonment and the abuse of his jailers, but not because he had lost any of his dignity or divinity.
In particular, attempts to compound his injuries with malice aforethought were deserving of death. The law notwithstanding, injuring the Saiho was a capital offense. There were no mitigating circumstances.
But remove one threat and there were more malcontents where that one came from. They came, it seemed, out of the woodwork. Every time they disposed of one, their patience and forbearance ran thinner. With every contest, the malice of his persecutors increasing, Sanshi and Gouran sensed the golden hues of Taiki's shadow growing muddier. The muddier it became, the weaker the psychic streams became.
Even if this was in part the fault of Sanshi and Gouran, she didn't know how else to deal with the threats. How long must it continue?
If there was one thing that rescued her at all from the depths of despair, it was the joy that Taiki evinced when, spurred by one impetus or another, she reached out to touch and console. Unfortunately, Taiki remembered nothing about Sanshi or Mt. Hou or Tai. And yet he had not forgotten the touch of her hand.
I am always with you. I am always by your side.
Whenever she comforted him, a small ray of light brightened the darkness, and Sanshi felt, however slightly, that her efforts were being rewarded.
"I shall protect you, come what may," she whispered.
Within the gloom, though, she was gradually losing form. Sanshi was not aware of this herself--that she was gradually losing control of herself. Her thoughts constricted and hardened. In such a state, it did not occur to her in the slightest that the impurities were attaching to herself as well.
And neither was she aware that these changes were occurring to herself and to Taiki. Or rather, he had noticed the many "accidents" happening around him, but put them down to echoes from the wrinkle in time that had brought him to this here and now.
For as long as he could remember, he'd suspected there was something "off" about him. He was conscious as well of the strange feeling--the knowledge, even--that for a strange creature as himself to exist, his environment must be somehow amiss. He felt he was a disappointment to those around him and a bewildering burden. These feelings grew year by year, blossoming into a conviction.
He really was an alien here, a source of unease to his surrounding. A bad seed. The rift in time and space that at some point had cut him free from this world grew so deep that he could finally no longer turn his eyes from its reality. At a certain point in time, the frantic efforts of his mother to bridge the divide between them no longer proved sufficient.
He was cast adrift, and he understood the necessity of his isolation. Calamities struck those connected to him. The rumors were about that he was cursed, rumors that became attached to his character. He had no choice but to accept that he was a dangerous creature, a stroke of bad luck upon his environment.
And he accepted this with an almost uncanny sense of resignation.
He did wonder now and then where these feelings sprang from. When he was small, always being the odd child out was very painful and disheartening. However, now the fact struck him as neither painful nor disheartening.
Perhaps because of that comforting presence. At some point he had come to realize that something like spirits tended to him with their warm assurances. Hence, his isolation was isolating in all senses of the word. When it came to associating with others--namely, when it came to avoiding drawing others into danger and considering the distress when such things actually occurred--avoiding such relationships was so many more times preferable.
But more than that, many orders of magnitude deeper within him, something was breaking down and falling apart.
I don't belong here.
The feelings haunted his mind. Except that no particular sense of suffering accompanied these thoughts. At some point in time he had already come to fully accept that realization.
As a child, nothing weighed on his conscience more than when his mother wept because of him. Even now it stung at his heart. But whenever he grieved for his mother, the impression descended upon him that his life was that much more precious. More than his mother, more than his family, he should be concerned for his own welfare.
Growing with every passing year, this impression eclipsed the anguish and the inward turning of his thoughts. He was forgetting something of supreme importance. Something of great importance that he positively could not put behind him.
During this time, living his life with no purpose in mind, he grew into the knowledge that some part of him was missing and lost beyond all repair.
Why couldn't he remember?
That lost year. The love and longing for what he'd possessed during that important lost year grew day by day, the growing distance between now and then filled only by a growing despair.
He had to return.
But to where?
Part Five
pon her return from Mt. Hou, Youko found Shoukei waiting for her in the Seishin.
"Youko, you've got an unusual visitor."
"A visitor?" Youko queried.
Shoukei nodded, explaining that shortly after her departure for Mt. Hou, an envoy had come to the capital seeking an audience with the Royal Kei. "Her passport bore the seal of the Royal Han on the reverse, and she asked to meet with you. As you weren't present, she took up lodgings at a manse in Gyouten. She left with us this letter of introduction from the Royal Han."
Youko took the letter with a puzzled look. Han and Kei had not enjoyed diplomatic relations in the past. This perhaps concerned the matter the Royal En and Enki had been communicating with them about.
A faint fragrance and the sight of beautiful calligraphy greeted her upon opening the letter. The cool black ink and the light blue paper together imparted a sense of great refinement. But Youko took a deep breath and shifted her stance.
"Do you want me to read it?" Shoukei softly suggested.
"No. Let me give it my best shot."
Youko battled with the prose. According to established form, it began with a seasonal greeting. Then what seemed to be an apology for rudely sending an envoy in place of the Royal Han. Above informing her that the missive from the Royal En had been received and that they would spare no effort, he had a request to make. He wished to arrange a meeting with the general from Tai residing at the palace.
"Seems to be requesting
a meeting with Risai. Is he asking to send a servant to the manse, or asking to meet with the envoy in the manse?"
Youko showed the letter to Shoukei. Shoukei glanced over it and blinked. "No. He wishes for the general to be sent to the manse. The meeting is for personal reasons only, so we shouldn't read anything of a life or death nature into it." Shoukei added, the surprised evident on her face, "That must mean the Royal Han himself is residing at a manse in Gyouten!"
"Unbelievable," Youko muttered to herself. "Sounds damned forward of him to me."
"Business as usual. But if he says this involves nothing of a life or death nature, the meeting with the general probably does concern a private matter."
"Which is?"
"The letter doesn't say. I'm only guessing, but the implication is that as far as his visit here is concerned, he wishes us to look the other way. The letter also asks us not to inform the general of the writer's identity. It concludes on that note."
"So it says, but Risai is hardly in a condition to traipsing off to a manse in Gyouten."
"Then our only option is to send a messenger to explain the situation. We should discuss it with the Taiho and Chousai and see what develops."
Youko nodded. A quick meeting with Keiki and Koukan was arranged. The circumstances would be spelled out, and the only option was for the Royal Han to come to Kinpa Palace. Shoukei was dispatched to the manse with a private communiqué in hand: Risai was still too indisposed to move, and as waiting until she healed sufficient was out of the question, would he please come to Kinpa Palace instead?
The composition of the letter, however, was the cause of much consternation.
"It can't be some run-of-the-mill bit of correspondence," Shoukei firmly declared, holding up the letter from the Royal Han. "Look at this. It should be obvious. This is a person with exquisite tastes. We can't treat him like a commoner."
"Even if you're right, my penmanship still stinks." Youko still hadn't gotten used to writing with a brush. She was quite self-conscious about the rough look of her characters.
"That's why this must be handled with all due consideration. Dash off a note on whatever piece of paper happens to be lying around and it'll look like something destined for the trash bin, no?"
"It's that important?"
"It is. That's why if you use overly pretentious paper, it'll come across as rather undignified instead. It must be unaffected and in good taste. I'll hunt something up while you practice your handwriting with this."
Youko sighed and set to copying the mockup Shoukei had prepared. And then, after quite a number of attempts, finally produced a clean version on the paper Shoukei had come up with. The letter in hand, Shoukei ventured down to the city at dusk. When she got back it was night. She wore a curious expression on her face.
"What's up?"
"Ah, well. Tomorrow they shall be visiting the palace. If they came as official guests of honor, the protocols would demand a lot of time and bother. So they repeatedly stressed that this be treated as a personal visit."
"Oh. So what kind of person is the Royal Han?"
The Royal Han had reigned for three hundred years, the longest dynasty after the southern kingdom of Sou and the northeast kingdom of En.
Shoukei gazed up at the ceiling, a somewhat perplexed expression on her face. "An individual of complete refinement. As far as I can tell."
"Huh," Youko replied.
Shoukei answered with a clever smile. "You'll understand once you meet."
The next day, as promised, word came from the Ministry of State that visitors had arrived from Han. Youko was taking care of business that had piled up during her trip to Mt. Hou. With a minimum of formalities, she left for the Outer Palace.
One of the manors adjoining the Outer Palace was reserved for welcoming guests. Entering the hall, Youko saw two people waiting for her. One was a tall and stately lady who appeared to be in her late twenties. The other was a girl perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Glancing at the young woman, whose countenance showed no particularly unique features, Youko briefly paused. She looked familiar.
She resembled a girl Youko knew . Of course they couldn't be the same person. That girl Youko knew was dead. Still, the similarity in their appearances made her heart hurt.
The girl curtsied. Returning Youko's curious look, she said with a polite bow, "Thank you for overlooking the abrupt nature of our arrival and honoring us with your presence. We are truly and deeply grateful to present ourselves as the most humble servants of the Royal Han."
With that, the girl curtsied to the woman behind her. Youko turned her attention to her as well. Was this in fact the Royal Han? With an air of serene formality, the woman nodded. Youko found herself a bit taken aback. There was nothing pompous about her. At a glance, though modestly attired, she was a strikingly attractive woman. Looking closer, though she wore her kimono and floral jewelry without a breath of pretense, they were quite splendid articles.
And yet the slender and well-proportioned frame struck Youko as nothing if not that of a man. And still a perfect fit for the attire. Of course. Just as Shoukei had said. An individual of complete refinement. Youko was flustered as to where to direct her gaze.
The girl smiled at her. "The Royal Han wishes to share a few words with you."
Youko nodded, taking this to mean they wished the room cleared. She turned to the Registrar. "Tell the Minister of Protocol to show our honored guests--"
The girl shook her head. "I'm sorry, but whenever and wherever possible, we would prefer to avoid pomp and circumstance. There is no need to disturb the ministers."
"But--"
"If you wouldn't mind. Otherwise, I'm afraid the Royal Han would be most displeased with me."
"Well, then. Given your leave, I welcome you as my personal guests. This way, please."
The Registrar raised an aggravated voice of protest, but Youko silenced him with a look. As she led the girl from the Outer Palace, the Minister of Protocol could be heard to mutter in aggrieved tones that Han must be a land replete with ill-bred people.
"I'm afraid the manners of my retainers are not all they should be," Youko apologized.
The girl smiled. "Only because His Highness has only barely made Your Highness's acquaintance."
There was something about her Youko couldn't put her finger on. Her figure itself should not draw undue attention, and yet she possessed a kind of magnetic brilliance about her. The one aspect that Youko's friend, buried in a corner of Ei Province, had not shared.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just that you remind me of somebody I used to know."
"I see," the girl smiled.
The other "envoy" said nothing, but followed close behind, a fixed expression on his face, not saying a word. Not only did he have an almost strangely unobtrusive sense about him, but his movements flowed along with remarkable grace. He must be the Royal Han, Youko confusedly thought as she escorted them alone.
Walking to the Inner Palace, they ran into Keiki, headed toward the Outer Palace at practically a run.
"Oh, Keiki. This is--"
She stopped mid-sentence as Keiki, quite unlike himself, gaped. "Your Highness, this is--"
"A servant of the Royal Han," the girl interrupted with a smile and a bow.
Youko looked amazed as an obviously flustered Keiki did the same. "The Han Taiho, I presume?"
"What?" Youko blurted out.
The girl placed her finger to her lips. "Shhh."
Youko looked back at her with new eyes. Her long hair was glossy black. Youko had never seen another kirin like her. A chance smile came to the lips of the tall person following close behind.
"And where are you taking us?" the girl asked in her carefree manner.
With a start, Youko collected herself and pointed out the garden enclosed by the Inner Palace. The expansive garden reached through the Inner Palace to the library, opposite the Guest Palace. The arbors and pavilions dotting the gardens stood like hideaway cabins among
the knolls and hillocks.
Youko led them to one of the abodes and dismissed the servants. The place having been secured, the girl took hold of the collar of her robe. With movement that resembled removing a singlet, she removed a hitherto invisible headdress, revealing the bright sheen of transparent, golden hair.
She turned to the dumbfounded Youko and bowed. "I'm sorry for startling you. Let me greet you on a more proper footling. I am Hanrin."
She didn't resemble the girl Youko once knew in the least. Hanrin was, to be sure, the most beautiful creature Youko had ever beheld. She draped across her arm the garb she had removed from her head, a kind of fabric like delicate gauze.
"Oh," she said. "This is a koseisan. As my true appearance would only get the ministers all in a tizzy, I borrowed it from His Highness. You seemed to have been somewhat taken aback. Did I appear as somebody familiar to you?"
"Ah, yes."
"Somebody important to the Royal Kei?" Hanrin's smile resembled a blossoming flower. "That is one of the attributes of the koseisan. Those who look upon it see a reflection of what the heart desires. I do not perceive this when I look in the mirror, and apparently neither does the Taiho."
"That is because I detected the aura of a kirin," Keiki sighed and bowed. "In any rate, let me take this opportunity to welcome you. I believe this is the first time we have formally met."
"Indeed," she answered with a nod. "I'm pleased to meet you as well." She all but tossed her lithe form into the nearest chair. "And how should I address the Royal Kei?"
"Well, my first name is Youko, and--"
"Good. Then I shall call you Youko. The old grandma that I am, I've gotten so I can't tell one Royal Kei from the other. How about you, Keiki? There a nickname you prefer?"
"No, Ma'am."
