Color Gallery

Copyrights and Credits

Maps

Prologue

Prologue

SNOW WAS FALLING.

The sky gleamed white overhead, dotted with the wispy gray forms of descending snowflakes. The whiteness poured from the heavens as if it were a stream, blanketing the land with visible alacrity.

He watched as the large, heavy flakes—which appeared to him like fluffy crystals—nestled gently against his shoulder. One after another, they slid from his shoulder to his arm, and then onto his bright red palm, where they melted into clear water.

His breath was colder than the snow. When he turned his neck—slender like that of all children—his breath left a visible white trail, stinging his eyes further with frost.

He had been standing in the north garden for an hour now.

His small hands and exposed knees had turned a bright, boiling red. He could no longer feel anything on his skin, not even when he rubbed his hands or hugged himself. At some point unknown to him, he had fallen into a daze, his mind lost to the ceaseless chill.

In the corner of the small garden stood a time-worn storehouse that had fallen into disuse. The cracks in the dirt walls made for a dismal sight. The main building, the storehouse, and an earthen wall covered him on three sides, but this was hardly a boon against the windless chill.

Nothing here could be described as garden trees. Irises bloomed when summer approached, but at that present moment, only white covered the naked dirt.

“Stubborn boy.” Even after marrying into the family so many years ago, his grandmother still hadn’t lost her nasally Kansai lilt. “He doesn’t cry at all, even when he should. At least then he would be normal.”

“You mustn’t speak so harshly, Mother-in-Law.”

“He’s willful because the rest of you spoil him.”

“But—”

“Parents these days are too soft on their children. A bit of discipline is good for them.”

“But, Mother-in-Law, what if he catches a cold?”

“Kids don’t catch colds from a bit of snow. He’s not coming back inside until he apologizes properly, do you hear me?”

He simply stood there, unmoving.

It all started from a trivial issue: Who was responsible for spilling water over the bathroom floor? His younger brother accused him, while he said that he had not done it, which only made sense to him since he had no recollection of it. His grandmother was always telling him not to lie, so he could not lie about being the culprit.

“Own up and apologize, and this will be over,” his grandmother had said sternly.

But he could only reiterate that he didn’t do it.

“If you didn’t do it, who did?”

He answered that he did not know, because that was the truth. It was the only thing he could say.

“Why are you so obstinate?”

His grandmother seemed convinced that this was just a child’s willfulness. Although he did not understand the meaning of the word, he did know that his grandmother resented him for being “obstinate.”

The reason he did not cry was because he was confused. His grandmother wanted an apology from him, but if he did say sorry, he would be telling a lie, which she hated the most. Unable to figure out what he was supposed to do, he did nothing at all.

The hallway was directly ahead of him. The sliding door at the other end was only half covered in glass, which meant that he could see his mother and grandmother arguing in the tearoom. It felt awful seeing them fight. His mother would always lose the argument and go off to clean the bathroom. There, he knew, she would secretly cry.

A thought vaguely crossed his mind as he stood there: I wonder if she’ll cry again this time.

His legs started to feel numb. When he leaned on one leg, it made his knee feel stiff. There was no feeling in his limbs, but if he forced them to move anyway, a cold pain would stab through him. He could tell that the wet droplets of melted snow were rolling down his shins.

Just when he let out a child’s heavy, exaggerated sigh, he felt wind against his neck—not a cold, cutting wind, but a warm, gentle breeze.

He looked around, assuming that somebody must have opened a door for him out of pity. Yet as far as he could see, even the windows were shut tightly. The glass in front of the tearoom was fogged up from the warmth inside.

He craned his neck, searching his surroundings once more. Even now, he could feel the warm breeze against his skin.

When his eyes fell upon the storehouse to his side, he blinked for a moment in utter stupor. Through the very slight gap between the storehouse and the earthen walls, he saw two pale objects reaching out toward him.

They were human arms. Cadaverous white skin was exposed all the way up to where the shoulder sockets presumably would have been, and they were reaching out from the shadow of the storehouse. Although he could not see the owner of the arms, he assumed that they were hiding in the shadows.

It was so very, very peculiar.

The gap between the storehouse and wall was very slight, small enough to make his little brother cry yesterday when his baseball fell inside of it, and he couldn’t fish it out. He and his brother were both small, but even they couldn’t get more than an arm inside the gap. What he saw looked like an adult arm, which made him wonder how it had even gotten in there in the first place.

The arm moved below the elbow in a swiveling motion. Sensing that he was being beckoned, the boy took a step forward. His numb, frozen knees groaned in so much agony that it was a wonder that they did not make an audible noise.

It occurred to him that he was not afraid, and it was because the warm breeze flowed from there. He was cold, after all, and he was genuinely befuddled over what he should do—so he answered the arm’s summons.

By this point, snow carpeted the ground entirely, and his tiny feet left plain prints behind him.

The white sky was transforming into an inky black.

The short winter’s day was drawing to a close.

Chapter One

Chapter One

1

NOBODY KNEW WHERE LIFE ORIGINATED FROM. This was especially the case for nonhuman life.

Awareness came to her without forewarning. All of a sudden, there was life. When her eyes opened, she found herself underneath a white tree branch with only one word in her brain:

Taiki.

The word flowered into her mind as her body stirred, and with it came the understanding of everything—who she was, what she existed for, and the most important thing of all:

Taiki.

Even now, after sitting up, the thought continued to flow from her brain like a stream of water. She twisted her upper body so that it could take in as much of the stream as possible. She thrust her face up toward the sky and closed her eyes, tears running down the side of her head and into her still-wet hair.

When she forced her limp legs into motion, the tips of her feet brushed against the damp earth, along with some kind of golden fragment. It was the remnants of the shell that had encased her until moments ago, as well as the source of the water now seeping into the soil. The egg from which she had hatched had shattered on the ground some distance away from the branch.

For a while, she stared at the pieces, and then her eyes slid up. White branches that looked as if they were made of silver loomed directly overhead, attached to the distant, sturdy bedrock. Multiple golden fruits protruded from the branches. She knew without being told that they were eggs that had yet to bear their fruit, much like hers not so long ago.

This was how life was born.

Taiki.

She forced her limbs to stand up. Then the tears flowed. It was nothing more than an involuntary reaction to protect her eyes from their first contact with the outside world, but to her, the warm sensation sliding down her face was exactly how it felt to accept that one word into her body.

Taiki. Taiki. The tears sprouted as she called out that name.

As she straightened up, a branch got tangled in her hair. She used her two arms—separate from her four legs planted on the ground—to free herself.

“You have hatched, I see.”

She looked in the direction of the sudden voice. Darkness shrouded her surroundings, the only source of light being the white branches overhead.

As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she realized that she was inside a cave—an immensely enormous one, at that. It was semicircular in shape, and the white branches hung down in the middle, draping over the girl. To be precise, they were roots, not branches. They protruded from the bedrock, splitting off from the center of the unfathomably tall ceiling and reaching all the way down to her feet.

She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. “A fine nyokai you are,” came the dignified-sounding voice.

She looked again. This time, she found the speaker easily. It was an old woman with a hunched back, standing not too far from where she stood. Her height only came up to about the girl’s chest. The woman strained to reach her twiglike arms around the girl’s back and started stroking her drenched hair.

“You are female,” she said as her hand went to the girl’s cheek. “You have the head of a fish,” she said, tapping the girl’s arm, “and the torso of a human.”

Her arms, still wrapped around the girl, gently prodded her lower back.

“Your lower body is that of a leopard, and your tail is a lizard’s. A fine blend indeed.”

Lightly, the old woman patted the area between the girl’s upper and lower back, which was tense and strained.

“Don’t cry so much, my dear. Come this way.”

The girl followed her as instructed. Tears spilled with each step, creating wet splotches on the parched ground.

Slowly, after a very long time, she crossed the cavern and spotted a staircase where the bedrock of the ceiling sloped and curved, blending with the rocks by her feet.

“I shall name you Sanshi,” the old woman spoke up finally, her voice a murmur. “It will be written with the characters for ‘fish’ and ‘girl.’ Henceforth, you shall be known by this name.”

As the girl silently went up the dark, narrow stone steps, she heard the old woman continue to speak. “Your surname shall be Haku. Such is the rule for every nyokai born on Mount Hou.”

Ascending the winding staircase, the girl abruptly spotted a source of light.

“You are bequeathed with a surname because of the weight of your duty. Remember that well.”

The girl nodded. What the duty was, she did not need to ask. As she carved its significance into her heart, she silently ascended further. Before long, her vision expanded. At some point, the stone steps had fanned out, revealing a gaping square hole.

The girl stopped.

From the angle upon which she gazed up through the hole, she could see the faint blue light of the distant sky along with a dazzlingly white tree reaching up toward the heavens. It completely dominated her vision. Her tears, which had only just stopped, sprang forth anew.

The old woman slapped her back.

“Head for the sky.”

The girl ran with her freshly born legs.

She reached the very top of the steps and bounded into the light of the sun. Her eyes watery from the piercing light, she ran straight toward the tree.

She was born from a root. In contrast to the long, delicate branches, the tree itself was low and broad. Upon the mossy bedrock, the tree stood proudly against the sky, its pure white branches bearing one single golden fruit.

“Taiki.” For the very first time, the girl’s voice escaped her throat.

This fruit hung in the exact same position where her fruit had been on the corresponding root from which she had sprouted. It was still a tiny thing, large enough to place in one’s hands. Her skin, still wet despite the strength of the sun, prickled sharply as she scooped up the fruit with both hands and pressed it against her cheek.

The tears did not stop.

“Taiki…”

Sanshi accepted life in this world.

2

THE YELLOW SEA SAT AT THE CENTER OF THE world. Although it was called a sea, no water flowed there, only time and wind. Beyond that lay endless desert and foliage, a swampland, and a chain of rocky mountains.

In the very center of the Yellow Sea stood a range of particularly tall peaks, including what was known as the Five Great Mountains. The middle one was Mount Suu, and the four mountains around it were called Mount Hou, Mount Ka, Mount Kaku, and Mount Kou. In days long past, Mount Hou was once known as Mount Tai, though its name changed whenever there was a calamitous episode in history. Its current name had been in use for a thousand years.

The Five Great Mountains were collectively referred to as the domain of the Queen Mother of the West, and Mount Hou was said to belong to the Consort King. Opinions varied on who ruled over the remaining four mountains. Regardless of the truth of the matter, the Five Great Mountains were home to the female deities and sages.

Each one of the Five Great Mountains was tall enough to pierce the heavens, though the bases of the mountains were uniformly sparse. The Yellow Sea—with its peculiar assortment of greenery, rocks, and water—formed the lay of the land, and the wind blew without end.

Only Mount Hou was distinct in that it had a small palace halfway up the peak, known as Houro Palace. This was the sole dwelling place of those who lived on Mount Hou, and by extension, the Five Great Mountains.

“Oh, a poppy?” Teiei muttered, crouching. She fixed her eyes on several opium poppy petals floating in the spring.

Youka, who was two paces behind her, stopped as well. She was struck by the beauty of the red petals against the water’s clear surface. “I wonder if they came from a garden somewhere,” she mused aloud.

Teiei nodded in response as she fished out the petals. “I suppose the wind must have blown them over.” After a pause, she added, “The wind has been strange today.”

Youka nodded too. She looked up, craning her neck.

Mount Hou had an unusual shape for a mountain. The plateau upon which Houro Palace was situated was like a maze of mossy rocks. It was hard to imagine that they could even stand properly, given that they were filled with holes and balanced precariously. Even the shorter rocks were three times the size of a human. The path weaving its way around the rocks was just barely wide enough for the two women to walk shoulder to shoulder.

From her stationary position in the middle of the road, Youka watched as Teiei carefully scooped out the petals.

Youka was a sage. Although she looked like an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girl, one could never tell a sage’s age from her appearance. The women themselves no longer remembered when or how they had ascended to sagehood, a testament to how long they had lived upon Mount Hou. Among the fifty sage women living there, none had been on the mountain as long as Teiei.

Youka, by contrast, was the newest sage to join the throng. She had once been a perfectly average farmgirl, yet for whatever reason, she found herself unsuited to human society. At the age of thirteen, she swore the vow of sagehood, forsaking the way of grain for the Queen Mother of the West. Only very recently, after three years of devout praying at the shrine, did she fulfill her vows and ascend to the Five Great Mountains.

Accordingly, Youka had not been at Mount Hou for very long. Only half a month had passed since she’d completed her studies at Mount Suu and moved to Houro Palace, but even she could discern that there was something strange in the wind that day. Normally, it was a gentle breeze, but at that moment, it blew fiercely and swiftly. The wind would soar up toward the sky only to immediately swirl back down like a maelstrom. Nothing in the sky suggested such weather either. Despite the wispy clouds, the air itself felt heavy and oppressive.

“Is this some kind of omen, perhaps?” Youka asked Teiei, who cocked her head in response.

“Who’s to say? The divinations this morning did not suggest any unusual events. In any case, let us finish collecting the water.”

“Right.”

Youka dipped her bucket into the spring.

It was called the Kaidou Spring. It carved out a place for itself at the base of the rocks, and a cluster of cheesewood flowers hung over it. It was not the only spring at Houro Palace, of course. Nobody was eccentric enough to count them all, but there were enough for some of them to require names.

Seasons did not apply to Mount Hou, where the flowers bloomed year-round. Right at that very moment, in fact, the small white cheesewood flowers fell into the spring, creating bubbles on the water’s surface. The aroma spread to the water, and it even bled into the buckets at some unknown point.

The cheesewood-scented water would be used to cleanse a wooden effigy of the Consort King, the deity that protected Mount Hou. Youka scooped up the water, avoiding the flowers as she did so, and then set off for Taishin Shrine, the part of Houro Palace where the statue was situated.

Teiei stopped her, smiling. “Where are you going?”

“Huh? Um, the Consort King’s…”

Teiei laughed out loud. “That is not the way to the shrine. You still haven’t remembered the path?”

As Youka glanced between the three branching paths on the road, her face turned slightly red. “So…it would seem.”

With its many rocks and forking paths, Mount Hou felt like a labyrinth. In fact, it was designed to be one. Only the residents of Houro Palace knew how to navigate it. The sages knew which of the countless paths to take, which river streams were good for laundry, which pools were good for bathing, and which springs were best to draw water from. They also knew where the sunny meadows were, along with the flower and vegetable gardens. Finding their way to a specific small shrine was perfectly doable for them—except for a total newcomer like Youka, in whose case all bets were off.

“Why do I have to put up with all of this hassle?” Youka muttered and sighed, to which Teiei smiled.

“It is to protect the lords of Mount Hou. I am sure you can tolerate a bit of inconvenience.”

The winding paths existed to ward off invaders. Nobody could ride a horse over the rocks. Youjyuu—beasts of supernatural origin—might be able to manage it, but they were not permitted to enter Houro Palace, with only a few notable exceptions. Also, given the narrowness of the roads that wound around the rocks, a visitor would have to dismount their horse and enter the palace on foot.

One step inside would tell them that this place was unambiguously a maze. The tall rocks obscured one’s view. Given how many different routes and tunnels there were, anyone was bound to lose their way on the meandering stone-paved paths among the damp, mossy rocks.

Only those who knew Houro Palace intimately would be able to arrive at the plateau that housed one particular tree—the only one of its kind.

“Ah, yes. I figured as much.”

Concealed deep within the labyrinth was the Shashinboku, the tree that bore fruit to the Kirin.

In this world, every living being—be they human or animal—came from white trees, but there was only one tree that bore the Kirin—the Shashinboku on Mount Hou. For this reason, Mount Hou was considered a holy land. Houro Palace existed for the Kirin, a place for them and the sages who served them to live. Accordingly, the Kirin were known as the lords of Mount Hou.

Teiei nodded. “It is a weighty responsibility, attending to the Kirin. Yet there is no happier task in this world. When the fruit of Tai hatches, you too shall lend your assistance, Youka. You must take the utmost care.”

Youka’s eyes sparkled at those words. “I can help too? Really?”

To be perfectly frank, Youka had been a little disgruntled with her lot. The sage women of Mount Hou were sworn to attend to the Kirin. Aside from that, they were just saddled with household chores. Although there was currently a young Kirin at Mount Hou, Youka was not allowed near him because she was still so new to her duty.

Teiei laughed. “But you have to remember your way around first.”

“Right.” Youka nodded eagerly.

Just the other day, the Shashinboku had produced a Kirin’s fruit. This one corresponded to Tai. Youka recalled what she knew about this still very tiny fruit—it would take ten months for it to mature and hatch into a Kirin. She could only imagine how precious a newborn Kirin would be. Just thinking about attending to such a tiny little Kirin heightened her anticipation.

At that moment, another poppy petal flew over from somewhere, disturbing the spring’s surface.

3

“AN OPIUM POPPY, HM?” CAME A SUDDEN VOICE.

Teiei stopped scooping the petals, turning around as a woman emerged from a building near the Kaidou Spring called the Kaidou Pavilion.

Youka cocked her head in bemusement at the sight of her, for she did not recognize her face. She could have been young still, or she might be past middle age already—it was impossible to say. She also wore different clothing and accessories from the sage women. Youka could at least say that she appeared to be a highborn woman.

“Your Holiness.” Teiei hurriedly prostrated herself. Startled, Youka did the same.

This woman was the leader of the female sages who lived at Houro Palace: Gyokuyou, Her Holiness the Immortal Lady of Jade.

“I expect that the wind blew the flowers over from a poppy garden,” Teiei remarked.

With a beautifully serene countenance, Gyokuyou peered at the sky through the gaps in the rocks. “A strange wind blows.”

“Indeed,” Teiei replied.

For a short while, Gyokuyou’s shapely eyebrows creased into a frown as she stared at the sky, though she quickly lowered her gaze toward Youka. “Youka—that was your name, yes? Have you grown accustomed to Mount Hou?”

Youka became flustered at being addressed. Back when she still lived on the lower plane, she had thought of Gyokuyou as a figure of legend; that was how vast the gap was between them. Gyokuyou was a goddess, and she quite literally dwelled above the clouds. It was only natural that Youka would feel shaken at being spoken to by such an esteemed individual.

“Y-yes, I have…” Youka stuttered.

“Although she still gets lost,” Teiei added with a smile.

Youka turned red all the way to her ears.

Gyokuyou laughed, a pleasant sound to hear. “It happens to every newcomer. Even Teiei was stumped for directions back in the day. Give it time.”

Youka glanced at Teiei, who was smiling merrily.

“Indeed,” Teiei said. “Her powers of recollection far surpass mine. And she works very hard too, with nary a complaint.”

Gyokuyou smiled. “How marvelous.”

Youka turned even redder. “Sh-she’s exaggerating. I get told off all the time…”

“That will stop as you grow more accustomed to your duties. Do not be disheartened.”

“O-okay.” Youka lowered her head so deeply that her chin hit the ground, a sight which Gyokuyou evidently found amusing. Teiei smiled too as she watched the young sage.

Then Gyokuyou’s eyes turned to Teiei. “I hear Tai’s nyokai has hatched.”

“So it would seem.”

Gyokuyou was usually absent from Houro Palace, though she would make entrances seemingly out of nowhere. Teiei had no inkling of where Gyokuyou usually spent her time, or from whence she would arrive. She was a bit of an enigma, but the sages collectively agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to pry.

“What is her name?” asked Gyokuyou.

“Sanshi, I believe.”

“Where is Sanshi right now?”

“Underneath the Shashinboku. She refuses to step away.”

At this, Gyokuyou’s distinctive red lips lifted into a smile. “They’re always ardently devoted, the nyokai.”

Teiei nodded, smiling as well.

The Kirin had no parents. This role went instead to female ayakashi known as nyokai, who were born at the Shashinboku’s roots. The nyokai would hatch on the same night her corresponding Kirin fruit sprouted, and she would spend the next ten months watching the fruit grow on its branch.

“So, will it be a Taiki or a Tairin?” Teiei asked. Only the nyokai knew the gender of the unborn Kirin.

“A Taiki, apparently.”

“I see.”

It was an ancient tradition to append the name of the Kirin’s country with “ki” if it was male or “rin” if it was female. The Kirin in question was “Taiki,” because he was the male Kirin of the Kingdom of Tai.

Gyokuyou gave a single nod and began venturing down the road toward the Shashinboku. Youka and Teiei watched her go, bowing deeply all the while.

Right then, all of a sudden, the air shook. A blast of wind surged across the path, bowling Teiei over before she even had time to let out a cry of surprise. Youka screamed as she fell over. The earth’s rumbling reverberated through the rocks, creating an eerie bellow throughout the maze.

“What the—?” Youka cried out in befuddlement.

Teiei didn’t have an answer for her.

This was no mere storm or earthquake by anyone’s reckoning. Had that been the case, the divinations would certainly have predicted it. Even more fundamentally, the gods protected Mount Hou against natural disasters.

“Get to the temple, Your Holiness.” Gripping the stone steps, Teiei forced her head up. Even in her confusion, she felt compelled to prioritize their leader’s safety.

Gyokuyou stood motionless, her eyes fixed upward.

At some point, the sky had turned red. Crimson clouds billowed overhead, draping over the sky like layers of gauze.

“A Shoku…!”

Totally unconcerned by the ongoing rumbling, Gyokuyou stared at the dancing light in the sky. The blast of wind failed to knock her off her feet, perhaps due to her divinity—not that Teiei had time to be impressed by that.

“A Shoku…” Youka could tell that the air itself was twisting and writhing as if in agony. Every time the wind changed, the red clouds swirled restlessly overhead.

Over time, the clouds steadily thinned, and Youka saw something that looked like a mirage.

It was a vision of a land far beyond the sea.

“It can’t be…” Teiei gasped.

A land that could not possibly exist in this world was trying to make contact.

A flurry of thin, beautiful cheesewood flowers scattered in the wind and pelted Teiei like stones.

“Ahh! What about the Tai fruit?!”

4

LYING FLAT ON THE GROUND, SANSHI FELT THE moist moss brush against her skin as she gazed up raptly at the fruit on the white branch.

Taiki’s fruit would ripen in ten months. At that point, the Kirin—Sanshi’s master—would hatch. The thought of witnessing that moment sent a tremor of emotion through her body.

As she gazed up at the lustrous golden fruit with a mixture of joy and pride, the attack came.

At first, Sanshi had no idea what was happening. The air warped, surged, and shattered. Red clouds began dancing across the sky as if someone had pulled a curtain over it. Terror assailed her, enough to make her very body tremble, and the word “Shoku” finally came to her mind.

Sanshi immediately sprang to her feet, only for a blast of wind to whip her back down. Ordinarily, no amount of wind would ever move the white branch, and yet now it swayed audibly.

With a scream, Sanshi clung to the branch. When she used her grip to lift up her body against the wind, her hair tangled with the other branches. She could feel it being yanked and torn, but the pain was of little concern in the face of her duty. I have to protect it. The thought pounded her brain.

She fixed her eyes on one spot immediately above her, but it was there that the atmosphere warped.

“Taiki!”

The howling wind battered her body. The warped atmosphere contorted even further, and she could see the distortion starting to swallow the branch up.

“Stop…!”

The small golden fruit was being dragged away. Sanshi could only watch as the fruit that she was meant to pluck in ten months’ time—and not a moment sooner—twisted off the branch.

“Somebody!”

Her bloody arm, shredded by branches, reached out wildly. She was but a fingertip gap away from the golden fruit—a length that seemed so heartbreakingly distant.

“Somebody, please! Stop it!” Sanshi screamed.

But her wish went unheard. At the tip of her straining fingers, the golden fruit disappeared into the distortion.

For the very first time since she was born, Sanshi cried out something that was not Taiki’s name. Her abject scream reached no one, another exercise of hopeless futility.

It all ended as abruptly as it began.

Sanshi gazed up vacantly at the white branch, now absent of its golden light. Its sole fruit had vanished entirely.

“Sanshi!”

Cries rang out in all directions as Sanshi spotted multiple sages dashing toward her.

Gyokuyou was the first to arrive, proffering a hand. “Oh… Sanshi…”

Sanshi clung to Gyokuyou’s arm.

First, she cried out a name. Then, she screamed and shouted. After that, she sobbed plaintively.

“How could this have happened?” Gyokuyou put her arms around the newborn nyokai, stroking her tangled hair and lacerated body. “Why now of all times? Just when the Kirin’s fruit had sprouted…”

The nyokai in her arms was wailing. A nyokai’s devotion to her Kirin ran deep, as evident in their tendency to spend the entire ten months underneath the tree. Gyokuyou could only imagine Sanshi’s pain at losing her Kirin right before her eyes.

“Do not weep so, Sanshi.” Gyokuyou patted the nyokai’s back. “This is not the end… Make no mistake, we will find Taiki,” she murmured, half to herself, “as quickly as possible.”

“Your Holiness…” Teiei spoke up.

Gyokuyou nodded at her. “Take the Vermilion Bird and investigate where the Shoku is headed in utmost haste.”

“Understood.”

“You have until moonrise. Gather the sages and prepare to open the gate.”

“At once, Your Holiness.”

The sages dispersed. Gyokuyou turned a despondent gaze to the sky.

There was no hint of the golden fruit as far as the eye could see.

They discovered that the Shoku had manifested in the west part of the Yellow Sea and that it was breaking off to the east.

A divine power protected the Five Great Mountains, and this was especially the case for Houro Palace. Despite this fact, every single flower at the palace had scattered. The kingdoms afflicted by the Shoku reported grievous casualties, but the sages of Mount Hou were too distracted by the loss of the Kirin to be moved by the tragedy. To them, nothing could be more important.

The question was where the fruit went after the Shoku swallowed it.

The Shoku connected this world to one that could not exist here, lands called Hourai and Kunlun. It was said that they were situated at the very ends of the world. Regardless of the veracity of these legends, a barrier that humans could not perceive or pass through existed between these worlds. Only a Shoku or a Gogou gate channeling the moon’s mystical power could connect the two worlds.

A sea known as the Kyokai surrounded this world. If the Shoku had traveled eastward, then Taiki had probably crossed the Kyokai to the ends of the world and washed up in Hourai.

Although humans could not take this journey across worlds, the sages were no ordinary humans. Dozens of sages used the open gate to cross the Kyokai at Gyokuyou’s command, but they found not even a trace of the Kirin’s whereabouts.

Taiki was gone.

For many, many long days afterward, one could spot Sanshi wandering the eastern parts of Mount Hou and the Yellow Sea.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

1

PASSING THROUGH A TUNNEL OF LYONIA FLOWERS, Youka bumped into Sanshi. The tunnel emerged into a small, round open area carpeted in soft, green grass. The white flowers clung to the slanted rocks, and a ring of them hung over the tunnel’s circular entrance like a bamboo screen.

Youka had gingerly parted the screen and begun to descend the slope when she spotted Sanshi. She put her pail of water from the Kaidou Spring down at her feet.

Nimbly, the nyokai dashed down the rocks that no horse could traverse. Although it was not unusual in and of itself for Sanshi to come down the slope, it had been a long time since Youka had last seen her.

“You’re back, Sanshi.”

The nyokai was prone to wandering the eastern lands beyond the maze, often for a whole month at a time. Every sage at Houro Palace knew what she was looking for. Her face looked weary to the point of exhaustion.

“Perfect timing. I just drew some water. Why don’t you sit down right there?” said Youka.

Sanshi obediently crossed her leopard legs and rested her pure white body beneath the lyonias.

“You were gone for quite a while this time. Did you go all the way to the end of the Yellow Sea?”

Sanshi was probably eager to cross the Four Vajra Mountains, which surrounded the Yellow Sea, and head even further east. However, no living creature could cross those peaks—some kind of mechanism prevented it.

“Here you go. Drink up.”

Youka handed the bucket to Sanshi, who obediently brought it to her lips. After a while, Sanshi lifted her head, signaling that she was done. Youka took back the bucket, produced a bit of cloth from her sleeve, and soaked it in the water. She wrung it lightly and used it to dab Sanshi’s legs. She could feel the heat in them through her hands.

“Gosh, they’ve gotten so swollen.”

Youka wrapped the cloth around Sanshi’s claws, prompting the nyokai to close her perfectly round eyes and rest her head lightly against a bush of lyonias. The flowers scattered like snow under the weight.

At one point, the lyonias here had been completely uprooted and destroyed. Not a single one of them survived.

That was over ten years ago now.

“Feels nice, right? You shouldn’t go out on such long trips.”

Sanshi did not respond to that, though Youka hardly minded. She was used to it by now.

There was a great Shoku ten years ago. Although the divinity of the Five Great Mountains spared them from cataclysmic change, the Shoku was powerful enough to alter the very landscape of the areas beyond—and tear a fruit off the white tree.

The nyokai screamed back then. She wailed and sobbed. And from that day forth, she never made another sound.

Youka wiped Sanshi’s limbs down. “I bet you’re still aching. Let’s cool you down in the river,” she said, tipping the now warm water out onto the ground.

Sanshi stood up and started hobbling—but not down the path to the river. She was heading back to the roots of the white tree. Youka knew this, but she could not bring herself to stop her. She understood how Sanshi felt. When a tiny fruit sprouted on the Kirin’s tree, Youka had been told to attend to the Kirin when it hatched.

Humans living on the lower plane seldom had the opportunity to encounter a Kirin. After ascending to sagehood and taking up her station at Mount Hou, Youka’s duty to attend to Taiki would have been her very first time seeing a Kirin up close.

Now that the fruit had been swept away, Youka had lost her purpose. Much like how Sanshi’s breasts, absent of a child to provide for, were now mere protrusions with the appearance of a female torso, Youka’s hands had nothing to do. She was left with only an itch that would not fade, similar to Sanshi’s swollen leopard legs.

After ten years, none of the sages believed that Taiki would ever return. They were convinced that a new Tai fruit would sprout on the Shashinboku soon enough. The sages said this would signal the death of the lost Kirin in the other world.

Youka had not given up, though. In the same way Sanshi continued to wander the east, Youka continued doing what she could for Taiki. She prayed for his health and prepared every tiny object in case he ever arrived. She studied everything that could possibly be useful for serving a Kirin. She just couldn’t bear sitting around idly. It was because of this that she understood Sanshi’s feelings painfully well. For her part, Sanshi did not warm up to any of the sages save for Youka.

Youka watched as the nyokai’s limping white figure disappeared from view, then picked up her bucket. Just as she turned around to refill the water, the screen of lyonias rustled, and a sage poked her head out from the tunnel.

“Has Sanshi come this way?” the sage asked.

Youka’s eyes turned to the path Sanshi had taken mere moments ago. There was no trace of her anymore. “She’s gone to the tree.”

“Could you hurry and chase after her?”

“I was getting water.”

“It’s an order from Her Holiness.”

Youka’s eyes widened.

“It seems she’s figured out where Taiki is.”

2

YOUKA CHASED DOWN SANSHI AND HURRIED OVER to the Hakki Pavilion, where Gyokuyou awaited her.

Every building in Houro Palace was shaped like a gazebo or a hermit’s refuge. The rocks helped fend against the wind, although that was rarely a concern in the temperate climate of the mountains. Admittedly, they provided useful cover from the rain.

Youka dashed down the path, ascended the white stone steps up to the fifth floor, and emerged onto a floor similarly paved with white stone. Teiei happened to be running into the shrine at that same moment.

“I have brought Sanshi.”

Youka prostrated herself on the wide, octagonal floor. Gyokuyou, who sat in a chair overhanging the balcony, nodded.

Teiei, similarly prostrated next to Youka, lifted her head. “You reported that the fruit of Tai has been located?”

“The Kirin of En found him,” Gyokuyou said.

“So Taiki really has been found?” asked Teiei.

It was borderline miraculous. All the sages on Mount Hou had given up. In the history of Mount Hou, no Kirin had ever returned after a ten-year disappearance. Although there were cases of Kirin washing up in Hourai, they were all found in less than half that time. To Teiei, ten was a mind-boggling number of years.

Gyokuyou gave a tranquil smile. “So it would seem.” She paused. “He crossed to the other side. As a Taika, his appearance changed, but a Kirin is able to sense a fellow Kirin. I asked the Kirin of each kingdom to cross the Kyokai and look for Taiki whenever they were unburdened by their duties to their nation. Today, I finally received an answer.”

The fruit blown away by the Shoku had ended up in a woman’s womb in the other world. Cases like this were known as “Taika.”

“And it was En-Taiho who answered the call?”

Gyokuyou brought a fan made of lapis lazuli chips to her mouth and smiled. “He has been frequenting the other side as of late. I suspected that he would be the one to locate Taiki, and indeed he was.”

Although it was a bit uncouth for a Kirin to take such frequent excursions to far-off lands, it was hard to reproach him given the outcome.

“He said that he found a Kirin in Hourai. The only Kirin who is unaccounted for is Taiki, so it must be him.”

“Right,” Teiei said tremulously. It would mean that the Kirin was truly returning to their graces. “I suppose we should gather the sages and—”

“No need,” Gyokuyou interrupted Teiei.

“But—”

Gyokuyou shook her head before turning to look at Sanshi, who stood dazed behind Youka and Teiei. Gyokuyou put her fan down on the table, then spread her arms wide.

“Sanshi,” she declared. “Come here.”

Sanshi staggered toward Gyokuyou.

“See? I did not lie when I said that we would find him.” Gyokuyou took Sanshi’s hand. “I hope you can forgive that it was a little late,” she said, patting Sanshi’s hand. “There is a door by the trunk of the Shashinboku. Go there and pluck the fruit with your own hands.”

The white nyokai’s round face grew more teary-eyed by the second, but now was not the time for crying. Instead, she turned around and broke off into a sprint right then and there. Through warm, crinkled eyes, Gyokuyou watched her go. After Sanshi sprang out of the Hakki Pavilion and turned a corner, Gyokuyou turned to Teiei with a sunny smile.

“The season for festivities has finally arrived.”

Sanshi ran. She ran to the tree where she was born, which had been the place she rested ever since. A young girl stood next to the tree, pointing near her feet. There was a round patch there, illuminated by a white light.

The sages were already at the scene. Without sparing so much as a glance at the onlooking women, Sanshi dashed straight for the girl.

The Shashinboku stood atop an enormous mossy rock on the cliff. The girl was exactly one step away from the base of the tree. A silver ring encircled her feet, which, upon drawing nearer, Sanshi realized was actually a snake. The silver-scaled snake had curled itself into a ball, its mouth holding one of its two tails.

The creature gave off a faint gleam and its body surrounded a round light that appeared to be sprouting from somewhere below the moss.

When Sanshi stopped, the girl smiled and extended her dainty right hand toward her. The snake’s other tail was wrapped around one of her left fingers.

“Sanshi is your name, yes?”

Sanshi looked at the girl, then at the ring of light produced by the snake. It was about as wide as her outspread arms, and beyond it lay white nothingness. In the depths of this faint tunnel of light was a round, gaping hole. Peering inside, Sanshi saw a building with unfamiliar architecture, an open space that appeared to be a garden, and a round, golden light. As far as Sanshi was concerned, however, she was satisfied.

Taiki.

She could tell that the light was Taiki. It was the one thing she could never be mistaken about.

“You may come inside, but you must ensure never to let go of my hand,” said the girl.

Her face was not one Sanshi knew, but it hardly mattered at that moment. Gripping the girl’s hand, Sanshi trod boldly into the light. A frigid air blew around her as cold white lyonia flowers scattered at the tunnel’s entrance.

When she took her final step inside the light, she felt as if she was being blown gently into the air. The earth disappeared beneath her feet. As Sanshi’s body drifted toward the exit, the other girl followed behind her.

“Go on. Walk as far as you can,” the girl said.

Sanshi started walking. When she arrived at the very edge of the exit, she reached out her arms.

All she could see were the dancing white flowers against the inky black atmosphere, along with a round, golden light. On closer inspection, the light had the appearance of a small child, but as far as Sanshi’s eyes told her, it was a fruit—the fruit she should have plucked from the white branch ten years ago. Lustrous gold, and large enough to cradle in her arms…

However much Sanshi strained her fingers, she could not reach the golden light. Channeling all her strength into her arms, she leaned forward as far as she could go, grasping at the frigid air. When she beckoned at the fruit, it drifted her way, reaching out for Sanshi’s hand of its own accord.

How long had she dreamed of this moment?

Sanshi’s fingers closed firmly around the fruit. Pulling it close took no effort at all—it practically fell into her arms.

3

WHEN THE BOY WALKED UP TO THE WHITE hand, it grabbed his wrist without hesitation. The hand felt so very warm against his frigid skin.

All he wanted to do was check to see how a person could hide in the narrow space between the storehouse and the wall, yet the moment he drew near, the view became hazy, as if a watery film covered his eyes. Objects lost their outlines, becoming blurs against the backdrop.

When he reached out his arm on instinct, fumbling for something to latch on to, he felt something close around his wrist. The next moment, his body lifted into the air, and he felt himself being dragged away.

An instant later, he was in a white space, thick with something that possessed no color. Although he had no way of knowing where he was, the boy got the impression that he was within some kind of sphere. Somewhere comfortable. Warmth flooded him upon entry, and an even warmer breeze started blowing from somewhere.

He no longer felt the hard ground beneath his feet, though he did not feel as if he was stepping on something soft either. He wondered if this was what it was like to stand upon a cloud.

He could sense someone very close by, firmly gripping his hand, but he could not see their body. He thought he could see a milky white figure flitting about inside the haze, but it could have been his imagination.

As he stood there for a spell, dazed, the hand on his wrist pulled him again. For some reason, he felt no fear at all, so he let the hand drag him without any resistance. It pulled him through the space of a very short corridor until he eventually broke out into the outdoor world, as if poking his head above water.

The sudden feeling of sunlight against his skin dumbfounded the boy.

Before his eyes lay the trunk of a totally unfamiliar tree. Not only was it pure white, but it reflected light as if it were made of metal. Despite its thick length, it was not particularly tall, causing the white branches to fan out sideways and droop at the edges. A peculiar backdrop lay beyond the branches—an array of rocks that had turned green from moss, and a crowd of women in foreign-looking clothing watching from a distance.

And the strangest thing of all was the appearance of the girl who held his hand.

Parts of her looked human while other parts appeared closer to a tiger or leopard. Her face was oddly featureless, and her round eyes opened widely with no particular expression. It should have been a horrifying sight, and yet for some reason, he was unafraid. If anything, he could see kindness in her eyes.

“Taiki.” The half-beast woman spoke, breaking the silence. He could not understand the word, nor could he have known that it was her first utterance in ten years. “Taiki.”

She stroked his hair with a soft hand. Meanwhile, tears sprang from her moist, round eyes.

The boy found himself holding her hand and peering at her face, the same way he always did with his mother. “Did something sad happen?” he asked.

She shook her head. The way she meant it less as a way of saying “no” and more as if to indicate “don’t worry about me” reminded him so very much of his mother.

“Is that Taiki? This boy?”

The sound of this voice made him finally realize that there was a peculiar fervor happening around the tree. The women chattered among themselves about something. As he wondered what was going on, one of the women approached him.

“How unusual,” she said after a pause.

“Who are you?”

The woman knelt in front of him. “I am Gyokuyou,” she said. “It has been hundreds of years since I last saw hair like yours.”

She ran a hand through his hair. “A black Kirin. How very unusual indeed.”

“Is it weird?”

The boy looked up—not at the woman in front of him but at the half-beast girl standing at his side, still gripping his hand. A part of him already understood that this girl was someone whom he could deeply depend on.

The woman in front of him shook her head silently once again. “It is not weird, of course. It is something to be happy about,” she said. “I am sure you were given a name on the other side, but here you will be called Taiki.”

“Taiki? Why?”

“It is tradition.”

“What is this place? I was in the garden just a minute ago.” He was not so young that he failed to understand the abnormality of the situation, but he was not old enough to be shaken and aghast.

“This is Mount Hou, the place you were always meant to be.”

“I…don’t really get it.”

“You will understand in time.” The woman paused. “This is Sanshi. Sanshi Haku is her name. She will be there for you if you need anything.”

The boy looked up at the girl next to him.

“Sanshi…”

Then Gyokuyou directed her gaze even further to the side. “That lady over there is Ren-Taiho.”

Near the trunk of the tree stood a girl with golden hair. When the boy followed Gyokuyou’s eyes toward the girl, a white snake happened to be wrapping itself around her arm, transforming into a silver bracelet. The snake had two tails, and each one turned into what appeared to be rings connected to the bracelet by silver chains. The boy was too surprised to be certain of what he saw, however.

“She deserves thanks for graciously lending us her treasured artifact. It was thanks to her that we could dispatch Sanshi to retrieve you, Taiki.”

The boy looked up at the smiling girl and then at Sanshi. Sanshi nodded, prompting the boy to lower his head obediently.

“Thank you very much.”

The girl merely smiled in response. Gyokuyou watched on, satisfied, then abruptly stood up and turned to leave.

“Excuse me, um, Gyokuyou…san.”

“Taiki,” said Sanshi. “You must…”

He looked up at her.

She continued falteringly, “You must…refer to her with ‘sama.’”

He nodded. Strangely enough, her words inspired no confusion in him. Even when she referred to him by the unfamiliar “Taiki,” the name fit him like a glove when it came from her lips.

“Gyokuyou-sama…there are a lot of things that feel strange to me.” He was not able to express his confusion very eloquently.

Gyokuyou simply smiled. “Listen well to Sanshi, and she will get you settled in before long.”

He looked up at Sanshi, who smiled back at him. He couldn’t tell exactly because of her expressionless face, but he got the strong impression that it was a smile.

“Okay,” he said.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back harder in reply.

4

“SANSHI, SANSHI,” ONE OF THE SAGE WOMEN called out. “Let me have a good look at the boy.”

“Come this way, Taiki,” said another. “I shall present you with clothing.”

“He wants water, not clothes. Or maybe a peach.”

“How about a plum or a pear?”

As soon as Gyokuyou and the girl with the bracelet left, the sages crowded around Taiki, leaving him at a loss. Although he could tell from their smiles that they were welcoming him, he was well out of his element.

He gripped Sanshi’s hand tightly and clung to her arm, inspiring a wave of unflattering comments from the sages.

“Look at that, he’s joined at the hip with Sanshi.”

“Don’t hog him, Sanshi.”

“Taiki, may I ask that you come this way?” said Teiei, noticing Taiki’s bewilderment. Then, she told the sages, “Calm yourselves. You’re overwhelming Taiki. Give him some space and leave him to Sanshi for now.”

Finally, she turned to Youka, who was standing next to her.

“You will accompany him,” Teiei said. “The Rosen Pavilion should do.”

She knew that the young sage had been preparing the Rosen Pavilion for Taiki’s arrival for many long years. Youka looked back at Teiei, her expression briefly overcome with emotion, then nodded deeply.

Youka walked up to the child. She crouched before him so that their eyes were level and peered at his face.

“It gladdens my heart to see you return,” she said finally. “Allow me to express my deepest joy.”

Taiki felt Sanshi’s protective hold on his shoulders loosen. At her gentle nudging, he locked eyes with the girl on her knees.

“Who…are you?” he asked.

“My name is Youka.”

“Youka-sama—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the other women broke out into laughter. Youka smiled too.

“Please call me Youka. The only person you will ever need to address as ‘sama’ is Her Holiness.”

“Her Holiness?”

“That would be Gyokuyou-sama.”

Taiki craned his head up at Sanshi, who nodded. It was only then that he accepted Youka’s words.

“Okay, then, Youka. What’s your job? Why did I end up here?”

“I am a sage who lives on Mount Hou—that’s where we are right now. And you, Taiki, are a lord of Mount Hou. You were born here, as a matter of fact.”

Taiki’s eyes went wide. For a while, he stared at Youka.

“I was…born here?”

“Yes.” Youka nodded. “This is your ancestral home, so to speak.”

“But—” Taiki began.

Youka cut him off, shaking her head. “You were missing this whole time. You got caught in a natural disaster and were swept away into another world. To be quite frank…we were looking for you.”

It was difficult to tell whether Youka’s expression was happy or forlorn.

“We’ve worried about you for a long time,” she continued. “I couldn’t be happier to see your return. You really did come back to us.”

Taiki simply looked back at Youka’s face, not saying a word. So I didn’t belong in that family after all, he thought. Everything made sense now—why his grandmother despised him, and why he always felt out of place as if there was something strange about him. That one statement explained it all.

To be perfectly honest, he’d never really gotten along well with his family. Although he never wanted to cause discord, an unbridgeable rift existed between them no matter how he acted. Like many children his age, he often wondered if he was an outsider—and this time, it turned out to be true.

“Is Sanshi my real mother?” He spoke up finally, voicing his tentative suspicion.

He looked at Sanshi and Youka, but they both shook their heads.

“Sanshi is your retainer,” Youka explained. “She is there to serve you. As for me, I am but a humble seeker of enlightenment—a sage, to be precise. My role is to perform the odd jobs necessary for you to live comfortably.”

“Okay, so where is my real mother…?”

Youka cast her eyes up toward the branches overhead. “You were born from the fruit of this tree. You were blessed by the Lord Above.”

Taiki turned his head up. Naturally, no fruit hung on the silver branches, nor did he see any flowers or leaves.

At this point in his life, he did not know how life was conceived, so he did not feel any real objection to what Youka was saying. He was convinced that when it was the right season, these branches would be filled with red fruit—probably large ones, enough to fit a person when they split wide open. Although it did seem like a strange way of being born, he’d always had the vague sense that he was different from all the other people somehow. If that was because of the circumstances behind his birth, then it wasn’t so difficult to accept.

So that’s what happened.

He had come from elsewhere, and that was why his grandmother hated him and his mother was always upset. He had never been able to make his grandmother or his parents happy because he was born from a fruit…which also meant that he had no real parents. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but the fact of the matter was that he never had a mother and father to begin with.

The thought trickled down into his chest, reaffirming something that he had always somehow vaguely believed. It did not occur to him that this was some kind of mistake…but it did leave him with a terrible heartache.

“Is something the matter?” asked Youka.

He clamped his lips and shook his head. Sanshi put her arms around him soothingly, and he responded by clinging to her body with all his might.

He understood.

My parents didn’t have me.

Countless fragments of memory flitted through his brain: his grandmother who was always angry with him, his father’s reprimands, how he had never lived up to their expectations no matter how hard he tried, how his mother was always arguing with his grandmother and father and always wound up crying alone, and how his younger brother would get scolded like he did and then blame it on him.

“It’s a problem,” the young teacher at school had said, “that he’s not even a bit friendly with his classmates.” She had looked at him with eyes of bewilderment.

“I think it’s concerning that he hasn’t made a single friend at his age.”

The deep wrinkles on his grandmother’s mouth curled. “Why won’t he make friends?”

“You’ve got it wrong, Mother-in-Law. The other children have been leaving him out.”

“Well, that just means there’s something wrong with his temperament. Isn’t there any way for him to make friends—properly?”

“Onii-chan’s a scaredy-cat. That’s why nobody makes friends with him.”

“Hush, boy. You’re always picking on people smaller than you. You and your brother ended up like this because your mother coddles you both. It’s no way to raise children.”

“But, Mother-in-Law—”

His grandmother’s reprimands always ended up being directed at his mother. It was why she would always cry alone.

“Why are you like this?” His father sighed at him, and he never knew how to respond. “Can’t you pull yourself together? You don’t want another tongue-lashing from your grandma.”

There was nothing he could say beyond “I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, Onii-chan. Don’t you get that it’s your fault they’re always yelling at me? When Grandma yells at you, I get yelled at too.”

“Sorry” was his only refrain.

Even when he tried his best in his own way, nothing ever changed. He could never figure out why nothing seemed to work. The idea occurred to him that his very existence was a cause for discomfort within the family. If only he wasn’t around, then everyone would get along.

My guess was right. He was an outsider. I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Looking back on his family life, he got the impression that it was a warm environment. His father and mother had loved each other. His grandmother doted on his younger brother. Perhaps if he had tried a little harder, he could have done things better, and nobody would have become angry or upset.

But I’m never going back there again.

Tears trickled from his eyes—not because of homesickness but because of sorrow.

The boy had already accepted that their parting was final.

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

1

“ARE YOU AWAKE…?”

Taiki’s eyes fluttered open at Sanshi’s voice.

For a while, he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was some kind of design etched into the milky white stone. He could see birds in each of the four corners linked intricately by grass and flowers, all of which bordered a round carving in the middle. Although the carvings themselves had no color, the ceiling was embedded with an array of colorful stones.

“What bird is that?” he asked, pointing to one of the birds in the corners.

“I’m not sure…” Sanshi sounded sheepish.

“Hmm,” he hummed under his breath. Honestly, he wasn’t that curious about the bird’s name. He was just a little embarrassed remembering how much he had cried the day before, even though he was meant to be a big boy now. “What time is it?”

He mustered the nerve to look in Sanshi’s direction. This was a small room—although that being said, it was only a tad bit smaller than his study. A thin and very pretty futon sat upon the floor, boxed in by cushions and pillows. Small rocks were embedded in the upper part of the stone walls, which had some kind of tree drawn across them.

The room only had three walls. A curtain comprised of multiple layers of fabric replaced stone as a divider. When Taiki pulled the curtain up, Sanshi was standing right there, her head tilted in puzzlement.

“What am I supposed to do now? Is there no school?” he asked.

Something told Taiki that his life would be completely different now. No longer would he have to wake up to an alarm, change his clothes, wash his face, eat breakfast, and go to school. That, at least, he knew for certain.

“What do I do?” he repeated himself.

“Nothing,” Sanshi said, with a shake of her head. “Do you wish to go back to sleep?”

From this answer, Taiki learned that it did not matter to her whether he stayed in bed or got up. What he could not tell was whether this was just a temporary grace period or if he would always be allowed this luxury.

“I’ll get up.”

Taiki lifted himself up from the corner of the room where he lay. He could tell that Sanshi was standing and that she was slightly elevated from the floor. Beyond the curtain stood several fretted doors through which he could see into a separate room.

Filled with curiosity, he inspected both rooms within view. He had cried an embarrassing amount the day before and had fallen asleep right there under the tree. After that, they brought him to this room, and he had no opportunity to explore it since.

His room seemed to him a relaxing little place. The other room looked comfortable too. It didn’t appear to have walls; instead, there was a white stone handrail within arm’s reach of a slab of mossy rocks outside. The light seeping through the crack between the rock wall and the building gave the moss a luscious sheen. The way grass and small trees clung to the rock face, spilling into the room, gave the whole place an interesting flavor.

Sanshi returned to Taiki’s room with a bucket and cup in hand. She took a step down to a sunken corner of the room and put down the bucket on a table there. Then, as she called out his name, she scooted closer, practically rolling across the futon in her eagerness.

“Good morning,” he said.

In response, Sanshi simply smiled and beckoned Taiki to sit down on the edge of his futon. He did so obediently. Although he realized that he was not wearing a stitch of clothing, it didn’t particularly bother him. Given that Sanshi, Youka, and all the other women were wearing unfamiliar-looking clothes, he assumed that his previous attire was not appropriate here.

Despite his nudity, he did not feel cold, though the air was not hot either. The weather in this place was perfect right now.

Sanshi washed him in a slightly unorthodox manner. Although he felt somewhat embarrassed about being treated like a small child, he let her do as she wished. Afterward, Sanshi took the bucket away and returned with an armful of clothes. He thought it looked vaguely like the kimono his grandmother wore.

Sanshi worked wordlessly the whole time, even as she dressed him. Although he took note of her reticence, nothing about the silence felt awkward. After she had finished, she led him by the hand into the neighboring room, where a table with breakfast awaited.

Youka was standing close by.

“Good morning, Youka,” he said to her, prompting a cheerful smile in return.

“Good morning to you too. Did you have a nice rest?”

“Mm-hmm. Did you make breakfast for me, Youka?” Taiki said.

“No, I didn’t. There are other people whose job it is to prepare the meals.”

Taiki cocked his head. “So, um, do those people do the cleaning too?”

“Indeed they do. Now eat up before it gets cold, all right?”

Taiki got the impression that he’d turned into a rich kid. He did actually know some kids who lived somewhat like this, but it still felt odd.

When Youka passed him some long, white chopsticks, he took stock of the unfamiliar food. He looked at Youka and Sanshi. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Sanshi does not eat food. As for me, I had my breakfast earlier,” Youka said.

“But I can’t eat all this by myself.” The table was piled with dishes.

“Don’t worry if you can’t finish it all,” said Youka.

“Um, don’t tell me everyone else ate already because I slept in.”

Youka smiled. “As I mentioned, Sanshi does not eat food. Her species does not need it. As for me, my standing is too humble for me to partake in a meal with you.”

Taiki was puzzled. He knew the word “standing,” but he found it a difficult idea to wrap his head around. “We can’t eat together? Even when I haven’t slept in?”

“Correct.”

Taiki looked down at the table in unease.

“Is something the matter?” Youka asked, noticing his silence.

“I get it if that’s how things are done around here, but…”

“Yes?”

Taiki looked up at Youka, who was standing like a soldier behind him.

“It feels, well, a little weird to me…um.” He twisted his head, trying to find the right words. “If eating by myself is my punishment for sleeping in, I guess I can put up with it. But it feels strange to eat by myself when I’m not the only person in the room. I think the food will taste nicer if we’re all eating together.”

Youka let out a little noise of surprise and smiled. She gave him a nod of understanding before directing her next words toward the partitioning screen to the side of the room. It turned out that there was another room behind the screen.

“Take a break and come over here. Taiki is inviting you to breakfast.”

2

AFTER BREAKFAST, YOUKA TOOK HIM OUTSIDE. He held Sanshi’s hand as he left the building.

What he saw left him momentarily stunned—the building had no fencing to speak of. Even the entrance had only a partitioning screen; there were no doors. The stone steps went down three floors, leading into a small pathway in lieu of a garden or gate. If he squinted, the area in front of the steps looked ever so slightly wider than the path it trailed off into, but anyone would be immediately confronted with rock walls as soon as they exited the building.

The rocks were so tall that even craning his neck wasn’t enough to see the sky. The wall of rocks boxed in the pathway on all sides, making it look less like a road and more like a tiny alleyway. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that the building he had just exited was the lowest object in view. It really did look like a tiny house hidden away between a bunch of skyscrapers.

“What a strange place,” Taiki muttered under his breath, prompting Youka to smile.

“You think so?” she asked.

“This might be a weird question to ask, but where is this place?”

Youka tilted her head. “This is Mount Hou.”

“No, um, that’s not what I mean…” Taiki looked for the right words to express his confusion. “I don’t remember a place like this in my neighborhood. I was wondering how far this is from my house,” he tried again. “Where in Japan is this? Are we in another country?”

Although Youka wasn’t speaking a foreign language, there were so many unusual things about this place that it was hard to imagine that it was in Japan.

“Or am I in a different world completely?” Like he had gone through the wardrobe.

Youka cocked her head as if she did not quite know how to answer. “I believe that is the case,” she said finally.

“I see…”

It was a terribly peculiar feeling. Everything he saw looked like the real world, but it was so different from the world he remembered. He had a hard time wrapping his head around it.

The more he pondered, the more he found himself confused about what “the real world” even was. Taiki sighed and decided to stop thinking about it.

“Are there no wide and flat areas around here?” he asked.

“There are. I’ll give you a tour,” said Youka, breaking out into a walk. Her eyes went to the building behind them. “This is the Rosen Pavilion. I prepared it as your place of residence.”

“So it’s my house, then?”

“Yes. Once you get a little more used to Mount Hou, feel free to tell me about other pavilions that strike your fancy.”

“You don’t mind if I move house?”

Youka gave an easygoing laugh. “Oh, no. You’re the master of Houro Palace. You can use whatever building you like.”

It was Taiki’s turn to cock his head. Meanwhile, they followed the narrow path up to a crossroads between a gently sloping hill and a tunnel. “I…don’t really understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Is Houro Palace this whole place?”

“That it is.”

“Why am I the master?”

Taiki was utterly confused. Youka, Sanshi, and the other ladies were all older than him. One of those ladies, Gyokuyou, gave off a sort of intimidating aura. He did not understand why they called him the master, and apparently, he could order them around. It all seemed out of whack no matter how much he tried to understand.

Youka smiled somewhat sheepishly. “It is because you are a Kirin.”

“What’s a Kirin?”

“A Kirin is a creature born from that tree you saw yesterday.”

A light bulb went off inside him. “So there are other kids born the same way.”

“Yes. There are eleven other Kirin besides you, Taiki.”

“So that makes twelve, including me?”

“Correct. Ren-Taiho, whom you met yesterday, is also a Kirin.”

“The lady with the bracelet?”

“Indeed.”

“Will I see her again?”

Youka shook her head. “Ren-Taiho has finished her business here.”

This was a terrible shame, he thought. If only he hadn’t been such a mess, crying and falling asleep, they could have had a proper chat.

“What about the others? Where are they? Can I meet them?”

Youka smiled. “They’ve already descended to their kingdoms, but you can meet them at any time after you’ve descended too.”

“Descended?”

“When you choose a monarch and descend Mount Hou.”

“A monarch… So there are kings and queens around here?”

“Yes. Your monarch will be your master.”

“What do you mean by master?”

“A Kirin chooses their monarch and dedicates their life to serving them. Until then, Mount Hou is at your disposal.”

Taiki got to thinking. If it would be his job to serve a monarch, then maybe all of this was some kind of training for that. With his prospects broadened, he felt less of the restless confusion that had been stewing in him since yesterday.

“But am I cut out for such an important job, I wonder?”

“Oh, my,” Youka muttered with an audible chuckle. “Of course you are, Taiki. Because you’re a Kirin.”

“Is it a Kirin’s job to serve a king or queen?”

“Indeed.”

“Is it the same for the other Kirin?”

Youka nodded and started folding her fingers. “There are twelve kingdoms on this side. Each one has a king or queen, and there are twelve Kirin for the twelve monarchs. That’s how it’s been for eons.”

“Huh…”

“But right now, there are only eleven rulers. The king of the northeast Kingdom of Tai passed away ten years ago, and the next ruler hasn’t been decided.”

“What about the Kirin of Tai?”

Youka laughed and looked directly at Taiki’s face. “He’s here right now, isn’t he?”

It took a moment for him to realize what she was saying. “Me?”

“Indeed. You are the Kirin of Tai, which is why you are called Taiki. It will be up to you to choose the next king or queen. The Kirin exist to make that decision.”

Taiki blinked. “Is it really a good idea to leave something that important up to me?”

Youka nodded deeply. “It is a decision that only you can make.” Then she said, “Look, Taiki. This is the mulberry garden.”

3

IT DID NOT TAKE LONG AT ALL FOR TAIKI TO GROW accustomed to life on Mount Hou. Everyone wore strange clothes and followed strange customs, and vegetables were the only food on the menu. For most people in his situation, it would raise an eyebrow, but Taiki was not old enough to get hung up on it. Nothing particularly bothered him unless it was actively unpleasant, so he took the oddities in stride.

If there was one thing he struggled to get used to, it was how his very appearance had changed. The mirrors here did not show things as clearly as the ones in his house, but even taking that into account, the face staring back at him was clearly not his own. He had never had a habit of scrutinizing himself in the mirror, so he found it hard to explain exactly how he looked different, but he could tell that he looked like someone else. He had no idea how it worked, but he must have undergone some kind of transformation when he went through that path of white light.

He got used to his position before long. At the moment, all he really wanted out of life was to sleep in during the mornings and go to bed whenever he wanted. In the intervening times, he would be served by the sage women and would wander around Mount Hou. He asked Sanshi and the sages all sorts of questions, mostly about things relevant to his day-to-day existence.

Even the sages, who had watched over Taiki with warmth and trepidation for his well-being, soon eased up.

“I was worried about how things would turn out,” said one of the sages as she beat a dried piece of clothing over some jasmine flowers, fanning their strong scent. “We’ve never had a Kirin live away from Mount Hou for ten years.”

Youka frowned slightly in the woman’s direction. “A Kirin’s a Kirin, no matter how long they’ve been away. It would be silly if he has changed.”

“I suppose so,” a different sage said with a laugh as she folded up the clothing in her arms. It now carried a pleasing aroma of jasmine. “But still, he has his quirks. That’s what growing up in Hourai does for you—oh, don’t give me that, Youka. I don’t mean it in a bad way.”

Youka piled up the folded clothes on top of each other and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not letting you get away with calling him weird. Sure, he’s more easygoing than the Kirin who grew up on Mount Hou, but that’s a good thing in my book.”

Several sages broke out into giggles as they brought in more clothes. “You’re obsessed with Taiki, Youka.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Youka huffed.

The other sages skipped over to her, put the clothes down by her feet, then left—but not before they got in a cheeky comment first.

Teiei, who was watching all of this, laughed too. “Don’t tease Youka so much.”

The sages at Mount Hou were generally a cheerful bunch. But after the Kirin—their reason for being here—disappeared, they became somewhat listless. And with the Kirin’s whereabouts unknown until just a very short while ago, their spirits only fell further.

More often than not, Mount Hou was without a Kirin. In those times, the sages were reduced to merely drawing water, doing laundry, and weaving clothes, which was hardly anything to get excited about. Things were different now that a Kirin was in their midst. The sages had regained their pep, and even without their duties, they found the Kirin endearing. Every Kirin was lovable and irreplaceable, but this one was particularly popular among them.

In all truth, none of the sages made sport of Youka’s feelings. Every single one of the near fifty of their number adored Taiki to bits. The fact that they called her “obsessed” was simply because they were a bit jealous that Taiki had become so deeply attached to a junior sage over them.

“Youka!” came the distinctively clear voice of a child.

The sages all stopped their chores and looked in the voice’s direction. Taiki came bounding down the narrow path toward the open area where they stood.

“Give me somewhere to hide!” Taiki said, panting. He sprang at Youka and hid behind her back.

“Taiki’s obsessed with Youka too.”

“You can say that again.”

The sages tittered as they covered Taiki with their laundry. A mountain of clothing swiftly obscured the tiny body nestled between Youka and the jasmine bush.

The sages were still giggling when something abruptly cut off the sunlight streaming in their direction. The nyokai, who appeared like a white silhouette atop the rocks, soon descended in their direction. At this, everyone present pointed to the east path.

“He’s over that way, Sanshi,” said one sage.

“If you’re looking for Taiki, that’s where he went,” said another.

Sanshi, however, would never lose sight of Taiki. “He’s not beating me.”

She went straight to Youka and peeled off the mountain of clothes behind her to reveal Taiki, tucked into a ball.

With an exaggerated sigh, he raised his head. “You found me.”

He plopped himself on the ground in front of Sanshi’s forefeet, his breathing still ragged. Sanshi patted his head before handing the bundle of laundry to a nearby sage.

The group of them laughed.

“There’s no fooling Sanshi’s eyes.”

“Seems like it.”

Their cheeks flushed red with merriment. Anyone would gaze fondly upon the child in a baggy Hou robe crouched at Sanshi’s feet. Perhaps they were all“obsessed.” After all, Taiki had become the target of far more endearment than previous Kirin they’d served on the mountain.

Joining in on the laughter, Youka stroked Taiki’s hair. It had grown longer since his return, and his sweat had it currently plastered to his forehead. Gently, she brushed his hair away from his face.

Most Kirin had golden hair—or manes, to be precise. Taiki’s was the color of steel. Although this was as clear an indication as any that he was no regular Kirin, it was no reason to grant him special respect.

“Look, it’s time for your bath. It’s almost sundown.”

A Kirin occupied a much higher position than the sages, but because they cared for him like their own child, they instinctively dropped the formalities. Even their leader, Her Holiness the Lady of Jade, tended to act that way, so it would have been rather hypocritical of her to criticize.

“Fortunately, we’ve got plenty of clothes right here. We’ll come to you as soon as we’re done here.”

“Okay.” Taiki nodded, standing up. “Let’s go, Sanshi.”

The sages watched with smiling eyes as Sanshi led Taiki away by the hand.

“She’s the biggest Taiki-lover here.”

“That’s for sure.”

They all nodded in agreement, not feeling particularly vexed by this truth. Unlike the sages, Sanshi existed solely for Taiki’s sake. The sages weren’t going to get upset about being left out. They were lucky, in fact, to have bumped into Taiki right before sundown. Whoever saw him right before dinner would get to dine with him. This was a new unspoken rule at Mount Hou.

4

AFTER THEY FOLDED THE CLOTHES, WHICH STILL had the whiff of sunlight and jasmine about them, Youka and the others separated Taiki’s belongings from the rest of the pile and headed for the river.

As soon as they turned a corner, they heard peals of laughter from a pool in the Rosen Pavilion’s vicinity. There Taiki was, chasing Sanshi’s tail, bobbing in and out of the water all the while. Sanshi’s tail was perched high—Taiki lunged for it and missed, plunging into the water. As soon as he lifted his head, he noticed Youka’s group and waved.

“We’ve come to get you,” Youka said cheerfully.

“Thanks!”

One of the sages laid out Taiki’s clothes for him on the cliff. As he emerged from the water, another sage stood over him and wrapped a towel around his small body.

“I can do it myself.”

“No, your back is wet,” she declared, wiping the drops from his pale skin. Although Taiki was reluctant to have others do things for him, everyone wanted to touch him—it was as simple as that.

Another sage put on his clothes while Youka brushed his hair.

“I’m fine already,” Taiki said.

“Look, your hair’s still wet.”

Taiki fingered his hair through the gaps in his clothing. It was a difficult color to describe—not quite black or silver. “Isn’t my hair too long?”

“It’s still on the short end,” said Youka.

Taiki looked up at her in puzzlement. “Isn’t it weird to grow my hair out like a girl?”

“It’s normal to let it grow until it stops of its own accord, although I can give it a trim for you.”

“Is it bad to cut it short?”

“You’re welcome to do it if you want to look terrible when you transform.”

That word gave him pause. “Transform?”

Youka combed her fingers through his now mostly dry hair. “Well, you’re a Kirin. You can change into your Kirin form.”

“By ‘Kirin,’ you mean the animal?” That was the Japanese spelling for “giraffe,” after all.

“That’s right.”

Taiki pondered this. When he heard that he was a Kirin, he thought it was a special word for people who grew from trees. Judging by what Youka was saying, it sounded like there was more to it than that.

“Am I actually an animal?”

It was a bit of a perplexing situation. Humans were a type of animal too, but the connotation was slightly different.

“But of course.”

“And so is Ren-Taiho, the girl I met that one time?”

“Indeed.”

This confused Taiki even more. Was he like a werewolf or something? Transforming into a wolf was one thing, but it would definitely feel weird to turn into a creature with such a long neck.

At this point, Taiki still had no idea what kind of creature a “Kirin” actually was.

As Teiei watched Taiki and the sages with a chuckle, she noticed the look of perplexion on Taiki’s face. “Oh,” she muttered. “You probably have trouble understanding it since you’ve never transformed before, Taiki. Your hair is different from ours. Yours is a mane.”

Taiki nodded at this. He recalled that giraffes had manes along their necks.

Beckoning Taiki over, Teiei gently touched the middle of the boy’s forehead, close to his hairline. Taiki experienced a deeply unpleasant, restless feeling.

“You have a very slight protrusion here,” Teiei said.

Taiki’s fingers raced to his forehead. Just like Teiei said, there was a tiny bump. He only realized its presence when he stroked it.

“That is your horn. A Kirin’s horn is very important, so you must treat yours with care. It felt bad when I touched it, right?”

“Just a bit,” Taiki said hesitantly.

“You needn’t be stoic about it. The Kirin inherently dislike having their horns touched. The older you get, the more you will dislike it. You’ll definitely learn to avoid it. Not even Sanshi will be an exception.”

Come to think of it, Taiki thought, I never did like it when people stroked my forehead. He got the urge to run away even when his mother did it.

“So I really am a Kirin,” he said.

“Of course you are,” Youka interjected, looking mildly astonished at his surprise. “It will all make sense to you when you transform, I’m sure.”

“How do you transform?” asked Taiki.

Youka took on a contemplative look. “I’m not sure. If you had grown up on Mount Hou since the time of your birth, it would have come to you naturally. A Kirin stays in their Kirin form until they’ve reached a certain age.” She paused thoughtfully. “Were you in your human form growing up in Hourai?” Although Youka did not know much about Hourai, there had been cases of Kirin who returned from Hourai in the past, so she was at least familiar with it in passing.

“I wonder if I’ll feel bad…when I transform.”

“I don’t think you will. No Kirin dislikes the process.”

“It’s not weird, is it?”

“Not in the least,” Youka said, running her fingers through his hair. “You’re a little different from your average Kirin, Taiki. Most of them have golden manes like Ren-Taiho. You’re a black Kirin. Black Kirin are rare… I can’t wait to see your Kirin form. Your mane is such a beautiful color—I’m sure your Kirin form will be just as pretty.”

“But I can’t imagine how I’d do it.”

“That is a pickle…” Youka sighed. “I can’t wrap my head around it either. I’m not a Kirin—I don’t know what it means to transform. Perhaps you should ask Her Holiness when you have the chance.”

“Okay…” Taiki nodded, not looking entirely convinced.

Teiei frowned inwardly at the sight. Ten years was a long time—having been raised as a human, would Taiki be able to transform when the time came? There was no precedent for Kirin who couldn’t transform, but it would be woeful indeed for Taiki if he was the first. Gyokuyou would probably have the answers, but she was not someone you could easily walk up to and strike up a chat.

Furthermore, Taiki did not have that much time left.

Wrenching her gaze away from Taiki and Youka’s pleasant conversation, Teiei looked up at the sky, which was now starting to look unsettled.

Fortunately, the spring equinox had already passed, but the humans would definitely ascend the mountain during the summer solstice.

Would an incomplete Kirin, incapable of transformation, be able to choose a ruler?

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

1

TAIKI TRUDGED ALONG THE LANE. SINCE HE HAD no destination in mind, he did not watch where he was going, though with Sanshi by his side, there was no chance of getting lost. Besides, Taiki was completely ignorant of the geography outside the immediate vicinity of the Rosen Pavilion, his place of residence.

As he walked along aimlessly, he spotted a gate blocking the way up ahead. The doors were shut tight, cutting off the road completely.

This gate marked the end of Houro Palace. It took a fair amount of time to reach it if one plotted a straight course. He must have been deep in thought to stay on his feet for such a length of time.

Taiki said nothing, simply letting out a sigh. The gate was only sealed with a bolt, so he could have opened it easily if he wanted to, but the sages had told him never to go outside. At the same time, he did not feel like heading back. He looked over his shoulder at Sanshi, who was following him silently.

“Sanshi,” he said, reaching his arms out for her, “take me up there.”

Sanshi nodded and picked Taiki up. An ordinary woman would have found it difficult to lift a boy of Taiki’s age, but ever since his return to Mount Hou, he was lighter than he looked. Perhaps the unusual change in his appearance had something to do with it. In any case, Sanshi lifted Taiki with no apparent effort before kicking off lightly against the rock wall and bounding toward the top.

From a higher vantage point, Houro Palace looked exactly like a labyrinth. Upon first glance, it appeared to be nothing but endless lines of rocky walls. The paths that snaked their way between the rocks were nestled deep within the gaps.

On closer inspection, however, Taiki could see the rocks made way for a few slightly more open spaces. These were marked by the azure lights upon the rooftops of the palace’s individual pavilions. Patches of dense woods could be seen, with roads winding their way through the trees before splitting off into numerous branching paths. Many of these paths crossed, making the maze appear like a net. Eventually, though, they converged into a singular path that ended abruptly at a small gate.

And at the end of this enormous labyrinth stood a single white tree, its silver branches shining brilliantly in the sunlight.

Wrapped in Sanshi’s arms, Taiki gazed at the tree for a while. Houro Palace fanned out below him. The Shashinboku was on a far east plateau, and nothing lay further beyond it save for a sheer cliff. It made the plateau look like a coastal cape facing into a void.

At the very end of the dizzyingly long fall from the clifftop lay an endless stretch of wasteland. The terrain was too unwieldy for humans to traverse, and the rocks jutted up so sharply that even Sanshi would have had trouble finding her footing.

At the precipice of the plateau on which the white tree stood, the labyrinth fanned out at a very gentle downward slope. It was connected to the north by a forbidding mountain peak, which formed a colossal wall. With its sheer cliffs and a spire reaching high into the heavens, even Sanshi would be hard-pressed to scale it. To the south, the rocky landscape stretched eastward.

In other words, this labyrinth existed midway up the enormous mountain, carving out a place for itself in a fanlike shape. One side continued up into the heavens, while the other faced a cliff that trailed downward into a cluster of jutting rocks. Houro Palace was situated on a massive rock ledge sandwiched between the two extremes. The only way to reach the plateau where the Shashinboku stood was to pass through the gate and correctly navigate the sprawling labyrinth.

And there’s more, thought Taiki as he let go of Sanshi’s hand. From the very top of the rocks, he looked over his shoulder beyond the gate, where the labyrinth stretched on yet further. The fan-shaped ledge upon which the maze was situated sloped downward, its face expanding the lower it descended. The path wound all the way up into the peak and down to the rocky foot of the mountain. The outer and inner labyrinths were so intricately intertwined that it was impossible to tell them apart even from this vantage point.

On the other hand, the outer labyrinth was far easier to navigate than the inner one. The roads were much wider, and so were the open spaces that dotted the landscape. Even without a guide, Taiki figured that it was probably not too difficult to reach where he was standing so long as one tracked the sun’s position.

As he surveyed the view, lost in thought, he noticed a green ceramic sheen quite some distance away at the foot of the rocks.

“Sanshi, what’s that?”

Her round eyes looked where he was pointing. “Hoto Palace…”

“There are palaces outside the gates too?”

Sanshi nodded. “It is a separate residence associated with the main palace.”

“I see…”

Taiki sat down on top of the rock, taking in the sight of the green maze for a while. A swift wind blew atop the rocks. Despite there being no large body of water as far as he could see, his nose detected a sea scent.

After enjoying the breeze for a while, Sanshi asked gently, “What…is the matter?”

Given how rare it was for Sanshi to speak of her own accord, Taiki really must have been stuck in his thoughts. He lifted his gaze from the labyrinth outside and looked at Sanshi. “Do you look the way you do because you transformed? Or were you born that way?”

Gently, Sanshi stroked Taiki’s head. “Nyokai cannot transform. It is an uncommon power.”

“I see…”

“It is difficult to change one’s form. Although some youma are capable of it, they wield superlative mystical powers—even compared to a king or queen.”

“What are youma?”

“It is what we call beings who possess supernatural powers and do not follow the way of the heavens.”

“Do nyokai count as youma?”

Sanshi shook her head. “A nyokai lies precisely in the middle between human and youjyuu, a supernatural beast. They may also be referred to as ninyou or youjin. The females born on Mount Hou are distinct and are given the special name of ‘nyokai.’”

“So…would a Kirin be considered a youjyuu?”

Sanshi gave an expression that only Taiki could tell was a smile. “It is true that they are beasts that possess supernatural powers. But no, a Kirin is not called a youjyuu. It would be more correct to call them shinjyuu—divine beasts.”

“Why’s that?”

“The only beings higher than the Kirin in this world are the gods and the rulers. You specifically, Taiki, only need to answer to the ruler of Tai, the Queen Mother of the West, and the Lord Above.”

“I…don’t really get it.”

Sanshi ran her fingers through Taiki’s hair. “Then how about you remember it like this? The Queen Mother of the West and the Lord Above are beings that never mingle with people of the mortal plane. You will never meet them.” She took a breath and continued, “And so the only person you bow down to is the ruler of Tai.”

“Nobody else? Isn’t Gyokuyou-sama more important than I am?”

“The reason you are allowed to call her by her name is because you are of equal standing. The ‘sama’ is a way of showing respect.”

“This is making my brain hurt.”

“Do you find it difficult to understand?”

“Mm-hmm.” Taiki looked down at the view at his feet. Then, after inhaling the breeze for a short while, he asked Sanshi, “How do I…transform?”

Sanshi cast her eyes to the side once more at Taiki’s slightly forlorn face.

“It is a power you were born with. I am sure that it will come to you when you have need of it.”

“I’m not so sure…” Taiki buried his head.

Many of the sages poked fun at him, saying it was about time he showed off his black Kirin form. Aware of the deep affection the sages had for him, Taiki wanted to appease them by transforming. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to go about it.

“You needn’t rush. You are growing up just fine, Taiki.”

“If you say so…”

Just as Sanshi cradled his head in her arms, Taiki spotted two human shapes in the maze at Hoto Palace.

“Sanshi,” he said quietly, “there are people.”

Sanshi looked in the same direction and nodded. “I suppose they are sage women carrying out the incense ceremony. They carry flowers and incense for the altar at Hoto Palace.”

“Let’s go back with them, Sanshi.”

Taiki was incapable of getting down from the rocks and onto the path below himself. Sanshi stood up, about to hold him in her arms—but at that instant, she looked up sharply.

“What’s the matter?” Taiki asked hesitantly.

No sooner did the question leave his lips than Sanshi disappeared into a crevice, almost as if it had swallowed her whole.

“Sanshi?”

“Don’t move from where you are.”

Her voice—hard with tension—was the only thing he heard. He could not tell where it came from, only that it was vaguely nearby.

Taiki stiffened. This was all completely new to him—Sanshi frowning, that scary tone of voice, and the mysterious power. He could sense that something had happened for the first time since he came to Mount Hou.

As his eyes darted about, Taiki instinctively held his breath. Clinging to the slender, jagged rocks, he craned his neck in an attempt to search for the missing Sanshi.

Something grazed his face.

“Huh?”

He could tell that something airborne had swooped past, grazing the side of his face as it went.

The next moment, he felt something wrap around his hands. A powerful force abruptly pried his hands off the rock and pulled his entire body away from the summit—and toward the outside.

For one brief, ephemeral moment, Taiki’s eyes took in the thin chains wrapped around his hands and the weight in front of him.

Then, Taiki’s body launched into the air.

Something—someone—had dragged him off the rock.

2

“GOT ’EM!” A LOUD, COARSE VOICE RANG OUT, causing Taiki’s eyes to spring open.

In an instant, he recalled what had happened—that he had fallen off the rock and into the forbidden land outside. Just as he was trying to figure out how exactly he had fallen, he heard a muffled grunt. His gaze swiveled up from where he had fallen on the ground just in time to see red splatters across the pale-colored sky.

That looks like…blood. As that thought crossed his mind, Taiki abruptly felt his body go cold. He instantly froze.

For the first time since he came to Mount Hou, Taiki recalled something he had never been given a reason to dwell on—a certain idiosyncrasy of his.

I can’t help it, no matter what I do.

Although he felt nothing from his own injury, just watching someone else shed blood was enough to make his breath catch in his throat in abject terror. He wanted to close his eyes, but even his eyelids were frozen. It was as if he had forgotten how to breathe. Only his heart moved, beating to its very limit. His eyes, having lost their focus, kept witnessing the moment of bloodshed over and over.

I was standing on the rock. Then something wrapped around his hands and pulled him down. He could still feel it on his hands—thin, wirelike chains.

Taiki could tell that he had fallen and was now lying on the jagged ground in a terribly unnatural posture, his back flat against the earth and his neck straining in an arched fashion. He could not possibly have been unharmed after falling from a rock with so many ledges and protrusions—especially not from such a great height—and yet he could not tell if he was injured, or if he had miraculously come out with only tiny scrapes.

He felt only two things: his racing pulse, and the bone-chilling cold past his hands and legs. His mind was in a daze, as if sick with the flu, and the image of striking red blood would not disappear. So vivid was its color that for the moment, he could not even tell what exactly he was seeing, nor could he determine what had transpired.

Although it occurred to him to shake his head and clear his thoughts, he was unable to even blink. He wondered if his injuries were responsible for his immobility. Was it because of the blood he just saw?

What on earth had just happened?

“Monster!”

When he heard the rough voice, he finally understood what his eyes were showing him.

It was a man—a large man holding a wide-bladed sword in one of his hands.

And he was using this sword to slash at Sanshi.

“You think I’d let a ninyou best me?! Back to the Yellow Sea with you!”

He brought the sword down with terrifying ferocity.

Sanshi! Taiki’s scream never left his throat.

The white sword traced an arc in the air, grazing Sanshi as it fell. Sanshi’s arm reached out, tearing at the man’s windpipe and drowning her nails in red. A heartbeat later, blood shot from Sanshi’s grazed arm.

Stop! Taiki scrunched his eyelids shut so tightly that they might never open again. He could no longer even sense his breath or his pulse.

As much as he wanted to keep his eyes shut, a sudden ferocious yank on his hands forced them open in alarm. Before he could even grasp what was going on, he fell off the rock he had been precariously balancing on.

His back slammed hard against the ground. Before he could gasp, something tugged his arms, pulling him into an upright position. Opening his eyes again, he saw his arms raised up in the air, bound by thin chains. They were connected to the man—he held them in the hand that wasn’t grasping the sword. Every time the man moved, Taiki felt his shoulders and elbows groan in protest, practically about to pop out of their very sockets. His legs dragged against the rocky surface, scratched from the collisions.

As he faced off against Sanshi with one hand, the man looked at Taiki with distinct irritation. “What are you?” he demanded. “What’s with that hair?”

Taiki could not even muster a reply to this reproachful comment.

Meanwhile, Sanshi charged at the man. He swung his blade crudely and kicked her, prompting red blood to spill across Sanshi’s white body once more.

The man cast Taiki another sideways glance, his rugged face twisted in fury. “Damn you, brat! You’re not a Kirin?!”

A Kirin? Of course Taiki was a Kirin. Everyone said so. Should he say that?

But wait—Sanshi was more important. At that moment, she was…

Ah… There’s so much blood…

Whenever the man moved, he dragged Taiki’s entire upper body by the arm. It felt excruciating, like his insides were about to burst.

“And here I thought you were a Kirin! I can’t believe you’re just some brat. And you even brought an annoying ninyou with you!”

The man’s sword flashed down on Sanshi’s arm, spraying more blood. When Sanshi leaped back, the man stepped forward, dragging Taiki once again. This time, a corner of a rock gouged his chest.

“How did you even get inside Mount Hou, ninyou?! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

The sword grazed Sanshi in its downward swing before cutting into the rocks.

Sanshi…

Her white body was now flecked with red.

Run, Sanshi…!

If only he had the voice to scream.

3

“STOP IT RIGHT THERE!” A VOICE SUDDENLY RANG out with an almost scream-like fervor. Taiki’s eyes fluttered open.

“How dare you… How dare you?!”

“Taiki!”

He heard footsteps pounding toward him. The pale, aghast face of a sage sprang into view.

“How…how awful! Taiki!”

The sage ran toward him, her arms outstretched. At that moment, tears sprang from his eyes. When she wrapped her warm arms around him, a pleasant aroma wafted into his nostrils. If he died here, he would be content.

“What absurdity is this?!” the sage cried at the man. “Desist, Sanshi!”

“Oh, so she’s your dog, eh?! Make her back off!” the man yelled.

“I’ll take no orders from you, vulgar fiend!”

At the sound of this furious rebuke, Taiki looked up. The voice sounded like Teiei’s, but he had never heard it so impassioned.

The man, for his part, also gazed at her in a slight daze. Sanshi glared at her newfound nemesis fiercely.

“Desist, Sanshi. You cannot stand beside Taiki with a bloodied face. Calm yourself,” Teiei said to Sanshi before sweeping her head up gracefully and peering down her nose at the man. “For what purpose did you commit such an ignoble act against Taiki?”

“Taiki?” The man looked at the child currently clinging to another sage woman. “So that brat—I mean, child—is actually Taiki?”

“Of course he is. Since ancient times, the only children on Mount Hou are its lords. Which brings me back to my question: Why did you act so barbarously toward Mount Hou’s lord?”

The man’s face lit up with a smile. “Taiki! It was him! I nabbed him!” He took a step forward.

Teiei held up her arms in front of the man, bracing herself for a fight. “Answer the question. I will not allow you to come any closer. Tell me your reason first.”

“Because I caught him! Me!”

“That is not an answer. Or perhaps you would like a demonstration of a Mount Hou sage’s powers?”

The man replied with an amiable smile. “The name’s Goson. An official of Ba, Kingdom of Tai. I came because I heard the rumors about Taiki returning to Mount Hou.”

“No man by that name has permission to participate in the Ascendance at Hoto Palace.”

“Oh? Looks like I got ahead of myself. I couldn’t wait, so I went on ahead to check out Houro Palace. Sorry if that was impolite of me. But the fact remains—I caught him.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

The man’s eyes widened. “I mean, I caught Taiki. I’m sorry about breaking etiquette and doing things in a way that’s inconvenient for you lot at Mount Hou, but I wanted Taiki,” he said, breaking out into a broad grin. “And now I’m the king of Tai.”

Taiki could feel the sage trembling as she held him in her arms. Her shaking must have been infectious, because Teiei’s shoulders quivered as well.

“You…fool!” Teiei shouted so intensely that the man took half a step back. “I cannot believe that the province of Ba would allow such a witless ignoramus of a man to be an official!”

The man took another half step back.

“You know nothing of Taiki. Did you really think that you could treat a venerable lord of Mount Hou like some wild game in the Yellow Sea? Foolish does not even begin to describe you! You call yourself the king of Tai? How absurd. Quickly now, make yourself scarce before the heavens smite you!”

“But—”

“Cease your prattling! If you dare open your filthy mouth any further, I shall take it upon myself to tear you limb from limb.”

The man’s mouth hung open, speechless, before he dumbly closed it.

The sage holding Taiki stood up. Carefully, she undid the chains around his arms and stroked the skin underneath. She ran her fingers down his cheek and through his hair as she peered deeply into his face. Even now, he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, you poor dear. You’ve had a terrible experience. Come, I’ll take you to the pavilion.”

“What about Sanshi?” Taiki asked, peering at the nyokai standing dejectedly beside him.

The sage shook her head. “Do not worry about her right now. You must leave her be. Now come.”

Many things about this situation went over his head, but he understood, at least, that Sanshi had sustained those injuries in her efforts to protect him. As much as he wanted to check on her, thank her for her help, and tend to her wounds, just looking at her blood-smeared body was enough to seize his heart in terror. He was utterly frozen, unable to take even a step toward her. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

With painful reluctance, he allowed himself to be carried away. Every part of his body groaned in pain, and every step made him want to cry.

They encountered Youka very shortly after passing through the gate. An entire group of sages came running up toward them; when they saw Taiki’s state, they screamed. The sage carrying him explained what had happened, at which point half the group ran off outside the gate.

“What a horrid man!” Youka exclaimed, throwing a glare in the gate’s general direction. The anger in her frown soon turned into distress as she reached her arms out for Taiki. “I feel awful for you, Taiki. You must have been so scared. How are you feeling?”

“Sanshi, she’s—”

Youka nodded knowingly. “Sanshi is in no great danger. Even when a nyokai’s wounds look grave, they heal up right away. What about your injuries, Taiki?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s get back to the pavilion for now.” Then Youka added, “Sanshi will come back once she’s clean. Don’t worry about her.”

Only then did Taiki finally nod.

“Don’t make such a sad face,” Youka said. “I know you can’t help it—as a species, the Kirin abhor blood. Some even fall ill at the smell of it.”

“Is that…true? It happens to other Kirin too?”

“That’s right. So you mustn’t let it get to you, Taiki. Let’s tend to Sanshi when she gets back.”

“Okay…”

When he reached his hands out for Youka, she picked him up.

The sages in the group took turns carrying him all the way back to the Rosen Pavilion.

4

IN THE PRIVATE QUARTERS DEEP WITHIN THE ROSEN Pavilion, Youka dipped the small Kirin into a large tub filled with warm water and herbal medicine. As she carefully washed Taiki’s body, inspecting every last nook and cranny along the way, she asked him for his recount of events. The more she listened, the more disgruntled she became. On more than one occasion, she exclaimed, “The brute!”

“What do you suppose happened?” Taiki asked. Admittedly, he had trouble understanding the sequence of events. He looked up at Youka, confusion and unease written across his face.

Youka mustered a smile for him. “I was careless. I did not keep a close enough eye on things because the spring equinox had already passed. Please forgive my negligence.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Youka.”

“Yes, it was. I should have explained everything to you properly.” She sighed. “I’m so glad your injuries aren’t serious. I’m sure Sanshi did a great job protecting you when you fell from that rock. You ought to show your appreciation for her when she gets back.”

“I will…”

“And you must promise me—never go out the gate without any sages with you. Sanshi doesn’t count for this. Please promise me that you won’t go near the gate at all.”

“I won’t,” said Taiki.

Youka nodded at this. She spread out a towel and wrapped Taiki up as soon as he got out of the water, then promptly carried him to the futon at the farthest end of the bedchamber. She peeled down the bedcovers and gently placed his small body inside.

She stayed silent for a while.

“The Kirin choose their monarch,” she said finally.

“How do they do that? Wouldn’t the next one be the prince or princess?”

“No. Kings and queens are chosen by the Kirin.”

“I…don’t really understand.”

“It’s hard for me to understand as well, since I’m not a Kirin. But to put it as simply as possible, the Lord Above ordains the kings and queens. He is the world’s highest being, and he chooses the best person to be monarch by comparing the traits of all kinds of people.”

“Uh-huh,” responded Taiki after some hesitation.

“The Lord Above passed that mantle to the Kirin. Oh, but it’s not as if he whispers the answer into your ear. The Kirin just know who is meant to rule as soon as they meet them. They have a divine revelation.”

“What kind of divine revelation?”

“No one knows except for the Kirin themselves. A Kirin will always know. Even a young Kirin will do the job handsomely.”

“Okay…”

“From now on, there will be many people climbing Mount Hou who believe themselves fit to rule. They will try to meet with you so that you can make your decision.”

“Like…that man today?”

Youka nodded. She put down the towel she had used to wipe his hair and started putting on his undergarments.

“That’s right. Many people will come. It will happen…let’s see, after the summer solstice.”

“Why then?”

“Mount Hou lies in the center of the Yellow Sea. Normally, people pass into the Yellow Sea, but it does have four gates that make it possible. These gates only open on the spring and fall equinoxes, and on the summer and winter solstices.” These were known as the Days of Safe Passage. On every other day, each gate was guarded to the teeth.

“They only get one day?”

“Yes, from noon of that day until noon of the next.” Youka paused. “The spring equinox occurred very shortly after you arrived, so I assumed that it was too soon for anyone attempting the Ascendance. That was where we were negligent, for which I beg your forgiveness.”

“It’s fine…”

“I expect that man managed to make it just in time for the spring equinox. The real climbing season will begin after the summer solstice.”

“I see…”

“Even the quickest traveler will take half a month to get here from the four gates. Once they’re inside, they can’t leave until the next time the gates open. So everyone aiming for Mount Hou sets up camp around Hoto Palace and waits until they can return. Youma and youjyuu roam the Yellow Sea, but they cannot enter Mount Hou, making it a safe haven. There will be so many people that they could make a small town.”

“That many? Will I really be able to tell which one is the monarch?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll know because of your divine revelation. Without the revelation, not even the most magnificent individual is fit to be king or queen.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Unfortunately, some of those people are fools like that man from today. Violent fiends under the mistaken impression that to be ruler they need only catch a Kirin or make one kneel to them.”

“Is that why Houro Palace is deep inside a maze?”

“I believe so. In fact, some halfwits have it in their heads to sneak inside and abduct the Kirin when they hear one is born.”

“Right…”

“When it is time for you to venture outside, we will accompany you for your safety. So please don’t go outside by yourself until then. Make sure you stay vigilant, even when you are indoors.”

“Okay…”

Youka smiled and stroked his hair.

“When a Kirin receives their divine revelation, they will prostrate themselves in front of their monarch—it is against their natures to kneel to anyone else. In fact, the Kirin are the only ones exempt from prostrating in the shrines of the Lord Above and the Queen Mother of the West.”

“Wow…”

“When you find your liege, you will swear a vow of fealty. You will never turn your back on your monarch or leave their side, nor will you ever disobey their orders.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If your chosen one says they allow it, then you will press your forehead—your horn—against their foot. That is when they will become the ruler of Tai, in your case. From then on, you will be called Tai-Taiho.”

“That sounds intimidating,” Taiki said diffidently, to which Youka smiled.

“Do you think so?” she said. “When you choose your monarch, you will climb even higher up Mount Hou. There is a shrine dedicated to the Queen Mother of the West—that is where you will take your king or queen.”

“How would I do that? Not even Sanshi can climb that high.”

Youka’s smile broadened. “When the time comes, the path will open for you. You will ascend to the shrine, receive the Mandate of Heaven, and descend to the Kingdom of Tai. You must never tell anyone your mandate. It is for the Kirin and the monarch’s ears only.”

“Okay.”

“Beautiful clouds called Zuiun will pave the entire way from Mount Hou to Tai. You will ride them down to the kingdom.”

“And then?” Taiki asked hesitantly.

“Hm?” Youka looked back at Taiki.

The boy grimaced. “What happens after that? Do I have to live in Tai?”

“Of course you do.”

“Then I won’t be able to see you anymore?” Taiki looked close to tears. “Not Sanshi? Not Teiei? Not any of the other sages?”

“Oh, my,” Youka muttered to herself in surprise before wrapping her arms around the boy sitting on the futon. “Right… We may not meet again. But Sanshi will never leave your side. She will always be with you.”

“Am I allowed to not choose a monarch?”

“Choosing one is a Kirin’s sworn duty.” Youka stroked the boy’s back as he clung to her with his slender arms. “You must become a fine Kirin who chooses an equally fine ruler. We have watched you grow on Mount Hou, and we will witness what kind of Kirin you become.”

Given that Mount Hou operated like a nursery for Kirin, it was for the best that they did not return after they set out for the world. The sages kept their fetters to a minimum so that they could attend to whichever new Kirin was born—such was their sole duty.

But for now, Taiki did not need to know that.

“Taiki,” Youka said, “it is our one wish that you admirably fulfill your duty.”

Taiki nodded—as if willing himself to agree.

5

SUMMER FINALLY APPROACHED—ACCORDING TO the calendar. The weather never changed on Mount Hou itself. To put it another way, the summer solstice drew near. On the longest day of the year, Reikon Gate—the southwest gate in the Yellow Sea—would open its doors.

“Shall I fasten your hair, Taiki?” Teiei called out to Taiki. She spotted him dipping his hair deep into the river, as if attempting to scoop out a pebble from the bottom. Then, he smoothed his hair back. He did this repeatedly, showing some clear agitation in the task.

“Okay,” said Taiki as he sat at the water’s edge.

Teiei undid a decorative string at the sash on her robe and tied up the steel-colored hair before her. Taiki’s straight, level hair had now grown out to his back. Even tying it up did little to contain it.

“Can’t you cut my fringe, at least?”

“I can if you absolutely insist on it. But you mustn’t blame me if you regret it later.”

“It’s long enough already.”

Teiei chuckled lightly at the nervousness in Taiki’s words. “It will not suffice when you become a Kirin. It must be long to match the proportions of your transformed state. You might think it is long now, but there is still much room for it to grow.”

“If only I could transform at least once, just to see. Then I’d know for certain.”

“Even without testing it, you can trust our knowledge,” Teiei said. “There you go. All done.”

Plop. Taiki dropped back into the water. Teiei watched him with smiling eyes.

“Are you aware of what happened to the Sairin?” she said.

“Sairin? No.”

“A long time ago, there was a Sairin who was very particular about her appearance.”

“If she had ‘rin’ in her name, she must have been a female Kirin from Sai.”

“That is correct. This Sairin envied the sage women and insisted on styling her hair in the same manner.”

“With hairpins and everything?”

Teiei nodded as she resumed sewing. “Indeed. She used oils to fasten her hair immaculately and arranged it with colorful hairpins. But one day, there was a sudden downpour, making her transform on instinct. When she tried to return to the palace, her mane was still tied up and her head was thrown back. It was impossible for her to walk straight.”

Taiki giggled. “That must have hurt.”

“I expect so. That’s a cautionary tale for you. Don’t have your hair tied up when you turn into a Kirin or else you’ll get a nasty shock.”

“You can say that again.”

Teiei laughed along with Taiki, then turned her gaze back to her hands.

Ever since the appearance of Goson—the man from the Ba Prefecture—the sages ensured that there was always at least one or two of them in Taiki’s midst at all times. Since it was ingrained in the nyokai to single-mindedly devote themselves to their master’s protection, they were prone to resorting to violence first, which would only distress Taiki.

As a matter of fact, the scent of blood had not washed off Sanshi by the end of that eventful day, which Taiki failed to mention to the sages. And so when she slept beside him as usual, he broke out into a fever the next day, causing quite the commotion.

If only he had a Shirei or two, Teiei thought to herself.

Sanshi alone was far from enough to guard Taiki. At times like these, Teiei cursed those missing ten years. The Yellow Sea surrounding the Five Great Mountains housed a great many youma. Under normal circumstances, a Kirin ventured bit by bit into the Yellow Sea, where they would tame the youma and make them into Shirei. They started by trying to win over the minor youma at the base of the Five Great Mountains.

Taiki doesn’t have time for that…

To make matters worse, Taiki himself did not know how to convert a youma. Teiei could not teach him. A Kirin was supposed to be born with this knowledge.

If only he were gone for five years, not ten.

The Kirin were born in beast form and remained that way for the next five years. During that time, their horns did not grow in, nor could they speak the language or understand the sage women. In that sense, they were like freshly hatched chicks. However, a chick was born not knowing how to fly, while a Kirin knew how to run through the sky straight out of the fruit. A Kirin hatchling followed only their nyokai. They roamed freely around the Five Great Mountains and frolicked with the youma. The nyokai’s milk sustained them, and neither injuries nor bloodshed shook them.

Although they varied somewhat as individuals, a Kirin began to occasionally adopt human form after about five years. They learned the human tongue and started flipping between human and beast form until the day came when the tip of their horn appeared on their forehand. It was around this time they were weaned off milk and took human form by default.

Therefore, by the time a Kirin was weaned, they generally knew how to transform and convert youma. Nobody needed to teach them a thing. Although they would not be considered mature until their horns were fully grown, they possessed all the abilities of a Kirin, which made it a prime time to announce their existence to the world. After their weaning, the news would be delivered to their native land (although they were not technically born there, it was what they called it). Shrines across the kingdom would raise the Kirin’s flag, signaling that the monarch’s selection had begun in earnest and prompting those who believed themselves worthy to take the trek up Mount Hou.

Teiei sighed. Taiki was no longer a hatchling. The day he returned, his native land—the Kingdom of Tai—raised the Kirin’s flag. There was no taking it back now. He had to go through with the selection without being able to transform or having any Shirei to protect him—things that came naturally to a Kirin.

“What to do…?”

Taiki must have heard Teiei’s mutterings, because he looked up with an inquisitive expression. She shook her head in response.

It was best not to tell him. Given how the conversation about transformation had gone, it would only make him anxious. Besides, none of the sages could tell him how to do those things. The last thing she wanted was to depress him after his cheer had finally returned. He was crestfallen when Youka told him that he would not be able to return to Mount Hou after he chose his monarch. The approach of the summer solstice made him visibly melancholy, enough to unsettle the sages watching over him. He only calmed down when he found out that the ruler of Tai would not necessarily be among this batch of climbers and that some Kirin ventured out of Mount Hou to look for their monarch themselves after failing to find them in the climbing seasons for years.

“If we were to do something, now would be the best time…”

Fortunately, nobody was currently around Hoto Palace. The only person who made it through the gate on the spring equinox was that Goson man. After a sound scolding from the sages, he was given the coldest of shoulders and sent down the mountain without any food or water. He would have to wait until the Reikon Gate opened on the next Day of Safe Passage, which was no easy task when camping outside, fending off youma and youjyuu. Even if he did manage to survive, he would be a laughingstock to the next batch of travelers—not that Teiei had any sympathy for him whatsoever.

The status quo would change on the summer solstice, at which point Hoto Palace would be swarming with people. Although there was still time to take Taiki to the Yellow Sea, which could trigger his instincts for handling youma, Taiki had lost the resilience of a wild hatchling. It was also possible that he could face a threat to his life, which made the prospect hard to consider.

“Is something on your mind, Teiei?”

Looking up at the sound of Taiki’s voice, Teiei saw him looking at her face in concern.

“No,” she said after some hesitation.

“Is there something about me that worries you?”

Teiei smiled. Taiki knew already that the only things that could worry a sage woman were Kirin-related. It made her happy to see how sharp his mind was. So, too, did it warm her heart to see his kindness and consideration for the sages.

“Not at all,” she said.

“But—”

“I was just getting fed up with my needlework. I hate to admit it, but it’s not my forte.”

“Can I help?”

“You’re a dear—I appreciate the thought. But if you were to get better at sewing than me, I would have to hide my face in shame. Don’t you worry about me. Focus on your own amusement.”

As she smiled and stroked his head, a thought occurred to her. Maybe it would be a good idea to have him meet another Kirin, at least.

Surely a fellow Kirin would be able to teach him things beyond the capacity of a sage woman or Sanshi.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

1

“GYOKUYOU-SAMA!” TAIKI EXCLAIMED.

The luncheon hour had just passed at the Rosen Pavilion. Gyokuyou came striding into the humble five-room pavilion as a young man with golden hair followed behind her. Teiei wasted no time before prostrating before them. Even that felt like an inadequate way to express her awe. Gyokuyou has been so considerate.

“You’ve grown up since we last met.” Gyokuyou smiled, running her fingers through Taiki’s hair. “Your mane’s gotten quite long now… Have you been in good health?”

“Yes,” Taiki chirped in reply before his eyes trailed to the young man behind Gyokuyou. It was very rare to see men on Mount Hou. The last one he saw was Goson, which was quite a while ago.

“This is Kei-Taiho—Keiki, he is called.”

Taiki’s eyes widened. “Is he a Kirin?”

Gyokuyou nodded. Keiki gave a short bow in greeting.

For a short while, Taiki gazed up at Keiki’s blank face. Although he seemed somewhat reticent, Taiki was glad to meet a fellow Kirin. Truthfully speaking, even though he could accept that he was a Kirin, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around what it meant to be one.

Gyokuyou’s eyes swept across the sage women. “The Rosen Pavilion seems to be quite the hive of activity as of late.”

Youka hurriedly bowed her head. “Please excuse us. Taiki was loath to attend mealtimes on his lonesome…”

Gyokuyou laughed. “Be at ease. Taiki is the master of Mount Hou at present. Let him do as he wishes.”

“Very well.”

“Kei-Taiho will be staying here for a short while. Prepare his lodgings for him.”

“As you command.” The sages bowed in unison.

Satisfied, Gyokuyou took Taiki’s hand. “I have heard that an imprudent fellow caused quite some distress. That must have been a terrible experience. Were you hurt?”

“No.”

“That is good to hear.” With a smile, Gyokuyou bade Taiki to sit and then shot a glance at Keiki, nudging him to do the same. “Kei-Taiho has come to Mount Hou to see you.”

“Is that so?” Taiki looked at Keiki, but the other Kirin merely gave an expressionless nod in reply.

“Both of you were born on Mount Hou, which makes you brothers in a sense. Kei-Taiho will stay on Mount Hou for a while, and he will provide you with the guidance of an older brother.”

“Okay.” Taiki smiled and made direct eye contact with Keiki. “Have you had lunch already, Kei-Taiho?”

“Yes,” was all the taciturn Kirin said.

“How about some tea, then?”

“I respectfully decline.”

Taiki tilted his head. “Which pavilion do you want to stay in?”

“When last I was here, I lived at Shiren Pavilion.”

“Are you going there now? Mind if I come with you?”

“Do as you wish.”

Keiki stood up. Taiki followed suit. As he trotted after Keiki, he looked back over his shoulder at Gyokuyou. “Gyokuyou-sama, are you planning on taking a break? Or do you have other business to attend to?”

Gyokuyou smiled. “Nothing so pressing that it would prevent me from having dinner with you, Taiki, if that suits you.”

“Oh, good!” Taiki beamed, then hurried off after Keiki. Gyokuyou and the sages watched him warmly.

When the two Kirin had disappeared, Teiei spoke hesitantly to Gyokuyou. “If you may permit my rudeness…”

“Don’t be shy. Speak up.”

“I fear that Kei-Taiho may not have the most agreeable disposition. He is…well… Keiki is…”

She did not have to finish her sentence.

Gyokuyou let out a hearty laugh. “True, he is a stick in the mud.”

Teiei fell silent. Keiki had been born and raised on Mount Hou very shortly before Taiki’s appearance, so she knew his personality well. The polite thing to do was disagree, but unfortunately, she had no basis for rebuttal.

“I was thinking of asking Ren-Taiho, given her previous connection with Taiki, but her kingdom is going through a turbulent period right now. I couldn’t simply borrow the Taiho at a moment’s notice. She turned me down when I asked her not too long ago.”

Teiei simply nodded. She had indeed heard the rumors of Ren’s civil strife.

“Thinking about it, I realized that Kei-Taiho is closest to Taiki in age. Although his country is similarly in discord, I think it would be good for them to learn from each other. I hope Taiki’s easygoing attitude can rub off on him.”

Teiei responded with an exceedingly faint grimace. “Right.”

Gyokuyou gave another light chuckle before the smile abruptly faded from her face. “The queen of Kei has a slight tendency to overthink matters. Given Kei-Taiho’s personality, the queen might be feeling pressured. He could stand to learn from Taiki’s flexibility…”

Teiei bowed in silence.

Even outside Mount Hou, the seeds of doubt seemed never-ending.

2

ACCOMPANIED BY A SAGE WOMAN, TAIKI WALKED after Keiki. It was not easy for him to catch up to a fully grown adult, and it certainly did not help that Keiki did nothing to relax his stride. By the time they arrived at the Shiren Pavilion, Taiki was panting.

The Shiren Pavilion was constructed similarly to the Rosen Pavilion. When Keiki strode inside, he took a bit of time touring the rooms, apparently lost in thought. Taiki stayed silent, figuring that the Kirin was probably feeling nostalgic.

After he had finished walking through each room, Keiki took a seat in the middle room. Taiki kept quiet beside him. Although there was furniture, the sages were cleaning up the cloth covers and ornaments. As he watched them bustle about in the corner of his eye, Keiki appeared to be in deep recollection.

Feeling as if he had been completely forgotten, Taiki steadily became more unnerved. Keiki’s expression did not exactly invite conversation, but he felt awkward just standing around twiddling his thumbs. He was at such a loss, in fact, that the sage who came in with a tea set felt like his personal savior.

“I apologize for all the mess. Please help yourself to some tea,” she said, placing the tea set on the table and passing Keiki a cup. “You’ll make things difficult for Taiki if you stay quiet like that.”

“Oh…” Keiki looked at Taiki, as if he had finally remembered his presence. “My apologies.”

His expressionless face dipped as his head performed a slight bow.

“Um… Am I in your way?” asked Taiki nervously. “I can leave if you want.”

It was the sage, not Keiki, who answered him. “Oh, no, not at all. Now why don’t you have some tea as well, Taiki?”

She pulled out a seat for him. Still feeling rather lost, Taiki sat down, but the whole scene could not have been more uncomfortable.

“Um… Where do you live, Kei-Taiho?” Taiki asked.

“Kei.”

“What kind of place is Kei?”

“It is the kingdom in the east,” Keiki answered indifferently.

With that, his mouth clamped shut, which left Taiki none the wiser about what kind of country Kei was.

“Did you stay at Mount Hou too, Kei-Taiho?”

“Yes.”

“Did you live there since you were born? I only came recently.”

“Since I was born.”

“How long were you there for?”

“Until two years ago.”

“Is that when you chose your monarch?”

“I met her a year ago.”

“Aha,” Taiki muttered to himself. “So that means you left Mount Hou two years ago to find her.”

“That’s right.”

“So, um…” Taiki peered at the flower-scented tea. “How exactly does it work, choosing a ruler? Youka said something about a divine revelation, but I don’t really get it…”

Keiki’s reply could only be described as curt. “You’ll know it when it happens.”

“Will I definitely be able to choose?”

“Yes. That’s what it means to be a Kirin.”

“Is it okay if I don’t know what a divine revelation is?”

“It is difficult to explain it in words. You will understand when you meet your king or queen.”

“I won’t pick the wrong person or overlook the actual monarch, will I?”

“You will not. They will have Ouki.”

“Ouki?”

Keiki nodded, expressionless. “The aura of a ruler. You could say it’s the atmosphere around them. At any rate, you will be able to tell that they are unlike others.”

“Apparently, I’m different from an ordinary Kirin. Will I still be able to tell? I won’t have a different way of choosing than the others?”

“I don’t know. I am not aware of any other black Kirin.”

Taiki sighed, completely stumped. A faint bead of sweat collected on his forehead. He had been so eager to meet a fellow Kirin, but now that one was right in front of him, he felt just as lost as ever. How could that be?

“Kei-Taiho, how did you find your queen after you left Mount Hou?”

Picking someone out of a selection brought to him was one thing, but how on earth did one go about searching for someone without knowing where they were?

“I relied on Ouki.”

“Do you mean you met with all kinds of people and tested to see if they had it?”

“Even when the person with Ouki is not there in front of you, you can still feel it vaguely. So I went in the direction in which I felt the Ouki.”

Yet another inscrutable concept to Taiki. “Oh…I see… Can you transform, Kei-Taiho?”

“All Kirin can transform.”

“I can’t do it… I don’t know how…”

Keiki looked at Taiki with his vivid purple eyes. “Do you need to be told how to raise your hand? How to walk?”

“No.”

“It is the same principle. I cannot explain how to transform, and I do not think you would understand even if I did put it into words.”

“Right…” Taiki felt crestfallen. It was starting to sound like he might never be able to transform.

Silence came over them. Sensing that Keiki would not speak out of his own volition, Taiki stood up. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to see Sanshi.

“Sorry for taking up your precious time,” Taiki said.

When he bowed his head, he got a wordless nod in response.

“Will you be around for dinner?” asked Taiki.

“If that is what Gyokuyou-sama wishes.”

“Right.” Taiki hesitated and then added, “I really am sorry for being annoying. Please excuse me.”

“Okay.”

With one last bow, Taiki turned around and hurried out of the pavilion. Before he even made it to the steps leading outside, however, tears spilled from his eyes. He felt utterly woeful, and his feet came to a stop.

The sage chased after him. “Taiki!” he heard her cry.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Its warmth and weight only made him feel more wretched.

“I might not be a Kirin,” he said.

“You are a Kirin. I know it.”

The soft hands drew him into an embrace.

“If I am a Kirin, then I’m a pathetic excuse for one.”

“That’s not true either, Taiki.”

“It has to be true.” Taiki clung to the sage. “I’m sorry.”

He was pathetic. All he did was receive other people’s love—without ever once meeting their expectations.

3

“HOW DID YOU TURN OUT TO BE SUCH A HOPELESS child?”

It was what his grandmother always said.

“You’re fine as you are,” his mother would say as she patted him with a hand that felt just as warm as the sage’s. “You don’t have to worry about what Grandmother says. You’re a kind boy—it’s fine if you stay as you are. You make me happy.”

But if that was true, why was she always, always crying?

Whenever he said, “I’m sorry,” she would say, “You don’t have to apologize.” She would give him a teary smile and gently stroke his back.

“You don’t have to worry.”

It was the same thing all over again from the sage. With her warm touch, she led Taiki by the hand back to the Rosen Pavilion. Youka and Teiei comforted him in the exact same way.

“You needn’t rush yourself.”

“She’s right. It doesn’t matter whether you can transform or not—you’re definitely a Kirin. There’s nothing to worry about at all.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“Goodness, Kei-Taiho is so childish.”

“Grandmother has a quick temper, that’s all.”

“Don’t cry. We don’t mind one bit if you can’t transform.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“She’s right. You shouldn’t let this get you down.” Sanshi joined in consoling him. She stroked his mane before picking him up in her arms and fixing her gaze on his face. “Shall we go outside? There is a nice evening breeze.”

Their kindness only made things more painful for him. Their warm hands and soft voices intensified his woe.

“Off you go now, Taiki,” said Youka as she put on his hou robe. “Be sure to come back by dinner. I’m sure it will be fun, since Her Holiness will be there as well.”

She waved him out of the pavilion. Even after Sanshi carried him out, the tears would not stop.

“Look what you’ve done, Kei-Taiho,” Gyokuyou sighed. Keiki stood beside her in the Shiren Pavilion, looking glum. “Taiki is still very young. How could you make him cry?”

“It was not my intent to bully him.”

“I know, but couldn’t you have chosen your words more carefully?”

“I merely told the truth. I cannot explain how to transform.”

Gyokuyou sighed again. “That’s unfortunate. Taiki has spent a long time in Hourai through no fault of his own. What comes naturally to you does not come naturally to him. You should be more…”

“Then he should speak with En-Taiho, who was born in Hourai as well. I was not meant for this task.”

“Keiki,” Gyokuyou chided, “I asked you. I thought this would be good for both of you.”

“But I—”

“Did you think I was unaware of what ails you?” Gyokuyou said flatly.

It was Keiki’s turn to sigh heavily. He thought of his queen, left behind in his native land.

Keiki’s master was a merchant’s daughter with a very normal upbringing. Put generously, she was a sensitive woman—or, more uncharitably, she was mentally fragile. Accepting the throne was an impossible task for her. Day by day, she withered, abandoning the administration as she hid away in her palace. Neither scolding nor praise did the slightest bit of good, and she even went out of her way to shun Keiki.

“To be sure, you did not say the wrong thing,” said Gyokuyou. “But you must learn that the right method is not always the best method.”

Keiki was perplexed. How could the truth steer him wrong?

“First, you must learn to be considerate of other people’s feelings. Taiki has an easygoing personality. If you make him afraid of you, then you have no hope of soothing the queen of Kei’s nerves.”

Keiki sighed again.

“Where is Taiki?” Keiki asked a sage woman he happened to encounter on the road.

She pointed to the outskirts of Houro Palace. “At the daylily grove,” she said, then fixed him with a look. “Make sure not to bully him, okay?”

Everyone he asked along the way had the same thing to say, which Keiki found very disheartening. “That’s not my intent.”

“Even if you don’t mean it, you have a way of sounding cold, Kei-Taiho.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was all he could say.

Gloomily, Keiki listened to all the barbed comments until he finally arrived at an open field of blooming daylilies. He stopped walking at the sight of a white nyokai sitting cross-legged in the field of yellow. Taiki crouched nearby, clinging to the nyokai’s leopard-like body.

Watching him, Keiki thought, He’s a strange Kirin.

There was no doubt in Keiki’s mind that Taiki was a Kirin, but the unusual color of his mane stood out as a distinct oddity. There were other things too. Being unfamiliar with children, Keiki thought that Taiki’s small body and slender limbs belonged to a different species altogether. Looking at Taiki’s drooped shoulders and the way he curled himself into a ball, Keiki felt a nagging feeling in his chest that was almost impossible to relax.

As Keiki wavered on whether to call out to Taiki, the nyokai swiveled her gaze to him first. Noticing where she was looking, Taiki looked over his shoulder as well. His dark eyes widened in confusion before he hurriedly wiped his face with his sleeve. Standing up, he bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, no,” replied Keiki, before hastening to add, “I should apologize to you. I am told my words were cold…”

“Not at all.” Taiki shook his head. Keiki found it mysterious how such a slender neck could support his head. “It’s not your fault that I’m a disappointment.”

“That’s not…” Keiki took a breath and tried again. “May I sit near you?”

“Go ahead.”

Keiki sat down next to Taiki, prompting the younger Kirin to take a seat as well. Keiki looked at the nyokai as she took a few steps away and bowed.

“Are you Taiki’s nyokai?” Keiki asked.

“Yes. My name is Sanshi.”

“You are a good ninyou,” Keiki said, prompting Taiki to blink.

“Is there a difference between good and bad nyokai?” asked Taiki.

“There is. A good ninyou has many different beasts mixed into their form, like Sanshi.” Then, turning to Sanshi, Keiki said, “Give me some space. I wish to speak with Taiki.”

Sanshi bowed deeply and walked off toward the path, though she remained within view. Watching her, Keiki frowned slightly.

“She is a good ninyou, but her power is still untapped,” he muttered.

Taiki cocked his head at this, causing his mane to brush against the daylilies. The flowers swayed from the movement.

“I suppose it is because your power has not yet been unleashed,” Keiki went on. “Nyokai have a strong bond with their master. If a Kirin falls ill, so do they.”

“Am I…sick?”

“That was just an example.” But Taiki’s comment did give Keiki some pause. “I suppose your situation could be akin to an illness.”

“Is that so…?”

Taiki’s head visibly drooped.

Keiki sighed at the sight. The nagging feeling would not go away.

4

FOR A WHILE, KEIKI SEARCHED FOR A CONVERSATION starter as the child looked silently at his toes.

“May I ask why you cried earlier?” he asked finally. It might have been a rude question, but Gyokuyou had told Keiki to understand Taiki’s feelings.

“I’m sorry.” The tiny Kirin shrank up.

“I don’t want you to apologize. I want to know the reason.”

Taiki looked morose. After a pause, he said, “Because I’m pathetic.”

“How so?”

“I started thinking, ‘What if I’m never able to transform?’ The sages all said I can do it. They’re waiting for it.”

“Is their curiosity that deep?” Keiki asked.

Taiki lifted his head with uncertainty. “Yes. They’re all so good to me, but I can’t do what’s expected of me. I’m only allowed to live in Mount Hou because I’m a Kirin. I want to at least do something to make them happy, to thank them for being so nice. But when I thought I’ll never be able to do that, I felt so bad…” New tears wet his eyelashes as he spoke.

“Do not cry,” said Keiki. “The sages will scold me again.”

Taiki blinked. “You get scolded, Kei-Taiho?”

“Yes. The sages never hold back around the Kirin.”

This brought a warm smile to Taiki’s face.

“Do not worry yourself on their account,” Keiki went on. “The sages exist to help you. You are their master.”

“But…” Taiki said in a low voice as he hung his head again. “I can’t do anything without them. I don’t want to become the kind of person who needs everything done for him.”

“You are a strange one, Taiki.”

“Am I…?”

Taiki’s voice once again sounded forlorn, prompting Keiki to panic mildly. Good grief, he thought. He wondered what Gyokuyou was thinking. This was why he said he was unsuited for this.

“I am not reproaching you,” Keiki said.

“Okay…” Taiki nodded and then muttered, “I was the same way at home.”

“Home?”

“Mm-hmm. My home in Hourai.” The boy was silent for a moment before he continued, “I was never able to make my grandmother or my mom happy. I was always screwing up and making Grandmother mad at me, and then Mom and Dad would just sigh.”

Keiki remembered the Shoku that took Taiki to Hourai. He had still been living on Mount Hou at the time.

“Sanshi came for me, and then at Mount Hou I found out that Houro Palace was my real home. I thought, ‘That explains it.’ The reason why I wasn’t any good was because I wasn’t their real child… But now the same thing’s happening all over again. Nobody’s scolding me or crying because of something I did wrong, but I still can’t make anyone happy. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m even really a Kirin. I shouldn’t be at Houro Palace if I’m not a Kirin. And that would mean I don’t belong here either.”

It was only then that it sank in for Keiki that Taiki had lived somewhere else for ten years. Even Keiki felt wistful when he was away from Mount Hou. It occurred to him that if he were a smaller creature, more prone to crying and feeling depressed, the separation would hit much harder.

“You are a Kirin,” Keiki said to Taiki. “Of that, there is no question.”

“How can you be sure?”

“A Kirin can always discern a fellow Kirin. You most certainly have the presence of a Kirin.”

Taiki looked up at Keiki.

“It is like a golden light. I can see it clearly around you,” Keiki said.

Taiki looked around himself, then stared around Keiki. “I…can’t see it.”

“I suppose it is because you have yet to tap into your power. You are a Kirin, without a doubt.”

“So it’s not a mistake for me to be at Mount Hou? Even if I can’t do anything a Kirin is supposed to do?”

“It is no mistake.”

“Thank goodness,” Taiki muttered, blinking again.

“I wonder,” Keiki said slowly, “if you are homesick for your house in Hourai.”

Taiki hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “Sometimes. It makes me feel bad for the sages.”

“I do not have a mother, so I cannot relate to your feelings…but do you love your mother?”

The queen of Kei loved her dead mother dearly. She missed her old home very much, and sometimes, with hurt in her eyes, she told Keiki to turn her back into a normal girl.

“You don’t have a mother, Kei-Taiho?” Taiki asked.

“It is normal for Kirin not to have mothers.”

“So I was lucky to have one.”

“In exchange, we have our nyokai and the sage women.” Keiki paused. “But you had a mother, Taiki. I suppose you want to see her?”

Taiki did not respond. He simply looked down at his feet.

“You don’t have to hide your feelings from the sages,” Keiki said.

He received a very small nod in reply.

“But I’m not her real child,” Taiki said, “so I can’t see her…”

“Is that so…?”

“The sages are so nice to me. Feeling sad about my mother is my punishment for letting them down.”

“That can’t be right,” Keiki said.

“You really think so?”

“I’m confident in it.”

Taiki began to weep quietly. He hugged his knees and buried his head between them. This left Keiki completely at a loss. It was once again his fault that Taiki was crying.

“Erm…Taiki.”

“I’m sorry,” Taiki said in a muffled voice.

His small body appeared to shrink up even further. His steel-colored hair hung low, exposing his slender neck to the elements. Even his knees, which he hugged tightly, appeared to look cold, and so did his shoulders. After some hesitation, Keiki put his hand on Taiki’s shoulder.

Taiki said again, “I’m sorry…”

Another apology that Keiki had no idea how to respond to. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said, at which point Taiki started bawling.

When Keiki drew Taiki close, the same way the sages had done not so long ago, Taiki clung to him. It was only natural that Keiki felt sorry for the young Kirin, given his evident distress, but he also felt a sort of warm fondness. When he tried stroking Taiki, the boy clung to him even harder.

Taiki said between sobs, “I want to…go home…”

“I know.”

“And see…my mom…”

When Keiki heard this, he understood that for the young Kirin, this was true sorrow.

5

THE SKY TURNED CRIMSON. AS THE SUN DESCENDED in the west, the Sea of Clouds reflected its light, giving off an ethereal sheen. Harsh sunlight and long shadows blended throughout the labyrinth all the while.

As he walked through the labyrinth holding Keiki’s hand, Taiki thought of his hometown. It was fun playing in the maze. He got used to a life without school pretty much straight away. Given that he was never good at playing with friends to begin with, it didn’t take him long to get over the loneliness of not having children his own age around.

Not to mention that Sanshi and the sages were so kind to him. Here, his grandmother would never lose her temper and shout at him, nor would he have to watch her butt heads with his mother. He would never have to see his mother cry afterward or both his parents fight late into the night. No more would his father call him up to his room in the aftermath and tell him off with a sigh.

The sages said that he had come home. There was no doubt in their minds that this was the place he belonged. The sages were warm, always happy to see him around, and nice to him about everything. He could tell that they were truly glad from the bottom of their hearts to see him return.

It was why he felt awful about feeling homesick for the place he had never belonged—and yet memories still flitted through his mind.

He got the impression that the hallways of that old house were even more fun to play in than the maze, now that it was at the forefront of his recollections. The garden was prettier than any of the maze’s fields. Instead of being surrounded by sage women, it was far better when he was the odd one out, watching his classmates play from afar.

In his mind, his family members were all far kinder to him than Sanshi or any of the sages.

He wondered if they were having dinner about now. Were his mother, his grandmother, and his younger brother all sitting around the table together? When would his father get home from work? Would he come back early and let his family wash his broad back?

Thinking back on it now, every moment was so heartbreakingly precious.

Were the hydrangeas in the garden in bloom? Had his grandmother set up the sunshade? Would his mother hide in the bathroom after a fight? Would his brother go off to wash his hands by himself in the middle of the night?

Were they thinking about him at all, even just a little? It would break his heart if they had forgotten him. Or what if they were happy about his absence? That would be even more miserable.

The worst prospect of all was if they were sad about him being gone.

“Taiki.”

Keiki’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. Realizing that he was on the verge of tears, Taiki blinked hurriedly. “Yes?”

“Shall we head back to the Shiren Pavilion for a short while?”

Taiki looked up at Keiki’s face. Keiki’s expression was as immovable as ever, but there was warmth in the large hand he used to squeeze Taiki’s.

“But what about Gyokuyou-sama?” Taiki asked.

“It will only be a short detour.”

Taiki hesitated and said, “Okay.”

Keiki went straight for the Shiren Pavilion, where he told the sage women who came out to greet them to stand aside. Pulling Taiki by the hand, he strode into the bedroom deeper within. There was a small garden to the east, which was cut off at the far end by a rocky cliff. The evening sun shone against the rock wall, giving a rich sheen to the moss growing there. This light bathed the whole room in the colors of the sunset.

Keiki gave Taiki’s hand a light pat before letting go. Standing in the middle of the room, he lifted his head ever so slightly and closed his eyes. Before Taiki even had the time to cock his head and ask himself what was going on, something happened.

It was like watching an uncanny film. Keiki’s body warped shape and melted in much the same way as glass or metal. The mass he left behind was a vivid golden color—it stretched and grew as if being pulled in multiple directions. At the same time, it seemed to flip positions with Keiki’s clothes. Before Taiki could even make a noise, the head of a beast emerged.

“Ah.”

It all took place within a fleeting second. The clothes on the beast’s body fell to the ground with an audible sound. The beast then lowered his head slightly and turned to look at Taiki.

Those purple eyes were unchanged. So, too, was the golden hair—no, mane. His neck had definitely not grown any longer. He looked daintier than a horse, perhaps more like a deer. Although there were patterns on his warm yellow body, they were restricted to his back. They seemed less like patterns and more like a complex arrangement of fur that seemed to change color depending on the angle.

“A Kirin,” Taiki breathed.

Keiki looked absolutely nothing like a giraffe, despite the Japanese word for one being spelled the same. Taiki could tell that he was a different creature altogether. His face was not as long as a horse’s, being closer to a deer’s proportions. The horn branching off from his forehead further emphasized that impression. On the other hand, the horn was shorter than that of a deer, and there was only one of them. It was pearl colored with a hint of yellow rather than white, and the evening light gave it a crimson sheen.

The golden mane that ran down his supple and gracefully curved neck was rather short, considering that his hair in human form ran all the way down to his knees. It seemed wispier too, and it swayed in the wind, looking like a golden flame.

He had hooves like a horse, and unlike a deer, he had a long tail, which was like a cross between a horse’s and a bull’s. It was slender at the base, which once again distinguished him from a horse, but the hair was longer and more luscious than a bull’s tail.

“Kei-Taiho,” gasped Taiki. “Is that…your Kirin form?”

“It is,” replied Keiki.

Taiki had not expected his voice to sound exactly the same as his human form. “I thought it was a different creature.”

“Did you?”

Coming closer, Taiki saw that Keiki was a large creature. Although he had a slim and elegant look about him, he was only one degree smaller than a horse. A part of Taiki wanted to stroke his glossy fur, but knowing that it was Keiki, he hesitated.

“I never imagined that it would be so pretty,” Taiki remarked.

As Taiki stood there in a daze, Keiki lowered his head and moved his nose in Taiki’s direction. “Does this please you?”

“Uh-huh.” Taiki could tell that his cheeks were red. “Can I be like this too?”

“Yes, although given that you are a black Kirin, you will be a different color.”

“I…see.” Taiki wondered how it would feel to turn into a creature like this. “Do your front legs feel like hands?”

“No. My front legs are my front legs. When I transform, it feels as if my hands have been replaced.”

“Is it the same with your horn and tail?”

“I hardly feel my tail. My horn generally feels as if it has been lit with a flame. It is a dense concentration of energy.” Keiki paused. “Ah, yes. When you transform, it will feel as if you are concentrating energy into your forehead.”

Taiki tried copying Keiki by closing his eyes and concentrating on his forehead. Sadly, though, nothing happened. Taiki sighed. “It would have been too good to be true if I could just magically do it now.”

“There is no need to rush.”

“I know.” Taiki changed the subject. “I suppose you’re really fast in that form.”

“Yes. Kirin can also run through the skies of the Yellow Sea. When you ride the wind, you can move faster than any bird. Should the mood strike you, you can run laps around the entire world.”

Taiki hesitated, then asked, “Would I be able to go to Hourai too? I heard it was somewhere far off into the east.”

“You can, should you wish it.”

Taiki blinked. He wondered how nice it would feel to become such a beautiful creature, capable of galloping across the skies. And if he did learn how to transform, then he could always give his old home a quick visit if the loneliness ever became too much for him.

“You may ride on my back tomorrow if you like,” said Keiki.

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, then, you go on ahead to the pavilion. Gyokuyou-sama is waiting for you. I will follow you soon after.”

“Okay.” Taiki bowed his head deeply. “Thank you very much, Kei-Taiho.”

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

1

“I WAS WORRIED WHEN THEY WERE GONE FOR A whole hour, but…”

Youka paused her sewing. Taiki had grown quite a bit since arriving at Mount Hou, which necessitated alterations to his clothing.

“I’m glad Taiki and Kei-Taiho get along now.”

Her conversational partner, a fellow sage, was similarly busy with needlework. When she smiled, Youka smiled back at her.

She would never forget Taiki’s face when he bounded into the pavilion, saying that Keiki had shown him his Kirin form. Taiki was so thrilled at the prospect of riding on Keiki’s back that it took him half the night to fall asleep. Then, when he came back the next day with windswept hair, he was so giddy that it was a struggle getting him into bed.

“Her Holiness was right on the mark,” one of the sages said with a giggle.

“These days, Kei-Taiho’s been taking a leaf out of Taiki’s book and showing consideration for others. It’s such an unusual sight.”

“You can say that again. Oh, but he’s as stone-faced about it as always.”

Keiki had lived on Mount Hou for a long time. As a result, the sages had no qualms about cutting him down a peg.

“But that’s fine, I suppose. This was way overdue.”

“Absolutely.”

Light chuckling broke out across the field. The merriment was interrupted by the sound of small footsteps bounding across the path.

“Welcome home,” said the sages.

“I’m back,” Taiki said as he ran toward them. His long hair was in a tangle, though his pale face sparkled regardless. Two ayakashi stood at his side: One was Sanshi, and the other was Hankyo, a youma who served as Keiki’s Shirei.

“Where did you go today?” asked Youka.

“Mount Ka. There were a lot of weird birds around.”

Upon seeing Taiki’s beaming face, Youka could not restrain a smile of her own. Taiki was now thoroughly attached to Keiki, even though none of the sages had ever imagined that Keiki could garner that kind of fondness from any child.

“That is good to hear,” Youka said.

“He said he’ll take me to the Yellow Sea tomorrow. He promised to show me how to convert a youma,” Taiki said.

“Oh, goodness,” Youka attempted to cut in, only for Hankyo to laugh.

“Don’t worry. We will accompany them.”

“Oh… Well, that’s all right, then.”

There was nothing to fear if Keiki’s Shirei was coming along. Even as she nodded, however, Youka felt a vague sense of unease. A nonzero number of Kirin had perished in the Yellow Sea in the past. Youma attacked both humans and Kirin indiscriminately.

“All right, let’s get you into a bath,” Youka said, attempting to clear her head. “Dinner will be soon.”

“Okay!” Taiki nodded before turning to Sanshi and Hankyo. “Let’s go.”

As she watched Taiki run off with the two ayakashi at his hip, Youka put down her sewing and stood up.

“What’s the matter?” asked Keiki.

Youka arrived at the Shiren Pavilion at the precise same moment when Keiki emerged from the spring at the Shiren cave. The water from this cave flowed down toward a lotus pond in front of the pavilion.

“I hear you’ll be taking Taiki to the Yellow Sea,” Youka said.

“Is that your issue?” Keiki said curtly as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair. “Be at ease. My Shirei will guard Taiki well.”

“But—”

Keiki grimaced. “You spoil Taiki.”

“Taiki is ten in human years, but as a Kirin, he is hardly older than a hatchling.”

“You mustn’t speak so.” Leaning against the pavilion’s entrance, Keiki gazed down at the lotus pond. “The summer solstice is only half a month away.”

Youka’s head drooped.

“I saw the Reikon Gate not long ago,” Keiki went on. “There are already over fifty people there.”

“That many?”

Keiki nodded.

“I thought that perhaps it was still too early for there to be multiple Ascendance attempts, given that the Reikon Gate is in the opposite direction of Tai. But it would seem that a sizable number of people have been traveling between the four gates as they wait for the Kirin’s flag to be raised.”

In Taiki’s native land, the Kirin’s flag was raised on the very day of his return. Although it took some time for the shrines to raise the flags in practice, the order was handed down on the day. This occurred one month before the spring equinox. Ordinarily, anyone who came running to the Yellow Sea after seeing the flag would not have arrived by the Day of Safe Passage.

The next Day of Safe Passage, the summer solstice, would be upon them in half a month, and the Reikon Gate in the southwest corner of the Yellow Sea would open accordingly. Tai was situated in the northeast part of the world, which meant that the entire Yellow Sea stood between it and the open gate. Taking a detour around the Yellow Sea and arriving at the Reikon Gate in time for the solstice was a supremely difficult task.

On the other hand, the world had no shortage of people with high ambitions. These individuals would go around the Vajra Mountains so that they could pass through the gates upon the nearest Day of Safe Passage—and they did this regardless of whether the Kirin’s flag was raised. It generally took years after a Kirin was born to develop the sense for choosing a monarch, and given that every Kirin grew at a different rate, nobody could say when exactly the flag would be raised. Some people traveled around the Vajra Mountains year-round during this period.

In Taiki’s case, he was not even at Mount Hou for the first spring equinox. When the Shoku swept him away, there was no announcement of his absence. The residents of Houro Palace spent the whole time looking for him, expecting that he would return. As far as the sages of Mount Hou were concerned, this period of waiting counted as him being there.

Thus, throughout all those years of no ruler being chosen, it was business as usual for those who traveled from gate to gate. It did not even occur to them that the first people to perform the Ascendance were not necessarily guaranteed to become ruler. It was their single-minded desire to obtain the Kirin and claim the throne that kept them traveling without end.

No ordinary horse could reach the corresponding gate in time for every Day of Safe Passage. The year-round travelers had mounts specifically bred to successfully complete the journey, and they could cover a distance that took a month and a half on foot in a third of the time. Although it rarely took only half a month to ascend the mountain, it would not be long after the summer solstice when Hoto Palace received its first climbers.

“I want him to get a Shirei by the summer solstice,” Keiki said.

Those who circled the four gates tended to have a rather high opinion of themselves, which also meant that they were prone to aggression. There was nothing to fear as long as they followed procedure, but their conceit could cause problems. The man the sages expelled from Mount Hou, Goson, belonged to that category. The sages were wariest of the first wave of climbers.

Keiki added, “I cannot stay away from my kingdom for too long. It has not been long since the queen’s ascension, and it will be many months yet before Kei regains its stability.”

Youka paused. “You’re very kind toward Taiki,” she commented with a smile, but this only made Keiki’s face draw into a scowl.

“I’ll get scolded again if I’m not.”

“Is that really what you think?” Youka chuckled, then gave Keiki a bow. “Please take good care of him.”

“I won’t let any harm come to him. I don’t want comments from every sage I meet.”

“Very well. I’ll hold you to that.”

2

“HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?” ASKED KEIKI, PRESENTING Taiki with a creature that looked like a rabbit.

They stood at the threshold of the Yellow Sea. In the hazy boundary between the base of the Five Great Mountains and the edge of the Yellow Sea lay a wasteland where only shrubs grew. The beast in Keiki’s hands looked like a rabbit with short ears—or like a large, thin rat.

“Jyakko? Or Hiso?” Taiki asked, obediently putting his hands around the youma. Underneath its soft fur, he could hear its steady heartbeat.

“Jyakko.”

This faltering reply came not from Keiki but from the youma. The tiny creature had become Keiki’s Shirei just a moment ago.

“Hiso is its species name as a youma. Its name is Jyakko,” Keiki explained. “Let’s see… It is written with the characters for ‘sparrow’ and ‘barbarian.’”

Nodding at Keiki’s explanation, Taiki tickled Jyakko’s throat. “Nice to meet you.”

In lieu of a response, Jyakko let out a high-pitchedsqueak.

“It’s not good at speaking yet, huh,” Taiki commented.

“Hardly any youma this small can converse,” Keiki said. “It takes all their effort to produce a single word.”

A few moments ago, Taiki had pointed out Jyakko watching them from beneath a shrub. When Jyakko turned to flee, Keiki performed some kind of chant and stared down the youma for a while when it turned around. Then, Keiki said some more inscrutable words, and the moment he said Jyakko’s name, the youma came voluntarily to Keiki’s feet.

This comprised the entirety of the conversion process. For Taiki, who had been imagining something more fraught and tense, the anticlimactic moment left him somewhat deflated.

“Is it always this easy?” he asked.

Keiki shook his head. “It was straightforward because the Hiso is a small species. This would not work on a large youma. I have had to stare down some youma for half a day before.”

“That long?” Taiki looked back at him in surprise.

Keiki nodded and picked up Jyakko, giving the youma a light stroke before placing it on Hankyo’s back. Jyakko frolicked around Hankyo’s ear.

“That was how long it took for Hankyo. Catching him was a test of patience.”

“Ohh…”

Hankyo was lying down on a rocky stretch with a serene expression, allowing Jyakko full access to his ear.

“It looked like you were just staring each other down,” Taiki commented.

Keiki gave a wry smile. “That’s exactly what it was. If I were to relax for a moment, the youma would break eye contact and run away. Or it might attack me.”

Taiki nodded meekly.

“Whoever becomes distracted first loses. It is only a trifle when you are up against a small creature whose inclination is to run, but against a large youma, your life is forfeit. If, at the moment you make eye contact, you believe that you are outmatched, then it is best to run away before it becomes a staring contest—although that is difficult when you are not in your transformed state.”

“Right…”

Taiki’s face fell, which prompted Keiki to hurriedly add, “Do not worry. Your nyokai will buy you time.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for her?”

Keiki’s lips turned up into a strained smile. “Your nyokai will tell you if the youma is too much for you before you encounter it. If you are attentive, you can perceive their presence yourself. Being perceptive to hostility is a beast’s instinct.”

This stunned Taiki somewhat, but he then broke out into an awkward laugh. “Oh, right, I am a beast, aren’t I? It’s easy to forget.”

“It hardly matters if you forget.”

“Right.” Taiki paused. “How did you come up with the name Jyakko?”

Keiki glanced at Jyakko. The youma would serve no use as a Shirei. He would have to let it go in the palace gardens. “I did not devise that name. It merely…occurred to me.”

Taiki cocked his head in confusion.

“When your opponent loses the stare-down, the aura around them slackens. At that moment, you can read the youma’s name. I cannot explain it precisely, but I believe that is how it works. It is as if something clicks in your mind. When you call out that name, the youma will obediently come to you. From that point forth, they will never leave their Kirin’s side. They will only be released upon the Kirin’s death,” Keiki said with a faint smile. “The characters are chosen not for their meaning but for the pronunciation.”

“It sounded like you were chanting magic words.”

“They are not an essential part of the process. They merely serve to assist.”

“Huh…”

Taiki looked as if he still had questions. Bidding him to sit on the dry rocks, Keiki took a seat beside him.

“When you make a youma your Shirei, you do so by exchanging a pact—or perhaps it would be more apt to call it a restraint.”

“A restraint…”

Keiki nodded. “The youma lie outside the laws of the heavens. When they become Shirei, they agree to join the ranks of the heavens, never to leave again.”

“I…don’t really get it.” Taiki sighed. “Sorry…”

Hearing Taiki’s glum tone, Keiki hastened to add, “It is nothing to apologize for. Your reaction is understandable.”

“Okay…”

“The Lord Above created this world. He decided the laws of the heavens so that the people could be happy. So why, then, do people perish and fall ill? Why are there youma, who attack people? Why are there natural disasters? Is it because of the foresight of the heavens, or is there something that surpasses its prescience? Either way, they are obstacles to the fortunes bestowed by the Lord Above.”

Taiki gave this a bit of thought and nodded.

“Regardless, it is impossible to grasp the actions of the heavens. However, much like death exists in opposition to life, it would seem that there are a set of laws counter to those of the heavens.”

“Like light and shadow?”

“That is a very good analogy. There are a great many ayakashi, we Kirin included. If the Kirin exist to help the people, then, likewise, there are ayakashi that exist to harm them.”

“That would be the youma, right? And that’s why they exist outside the laws.”

“Precisely.”

Keiki smiled faintly.

“So you get them to abide by the laws? Through converting?” Taiki asked.

“That is the short of it. To use your analogy, the youma are creatures of shadow. In order to use them as servants, they must be brought into the light and restrained so that they never return to the shadows.”

“Okay. But how do you do that?” Taiki sighed again.

“It is difficult to put into words. I cannot understand it readily myself, to be frank with you. But I believe it is a kind of aura. To bring a youma under one’s control requires a strong will. However, you cannot accomplish it simply by wishing hard enough.”

Taiki’s expression turned completely perplexed at this.

“How about you think of it like this?” said Keiki after some thought. “The Kirin have a certain ‘power.’ The strength of this power differs depending on the Kirin. Nevertheless, it is a power that all Kirin possess.”

“Is this power what lets a Kirin transform?”

“Yes. Because it is a power, wishes have little bearing. No matter how strongly you wish for something, it will not amount to anything if your power is slight. That is the best way I can explain it.”

“So it’s like muscle strength. How fast you can run.”

“Yes. Precisely.” Keiki sighed in relief.

But Taiki was still perplexed. “Isn’t it hard to use your power to bind the youma to the light? What if you relax your guard for a moment? Wouldn’t the youma slip out of its restraint?”

Keiki sighed again, prompting another “Sorry” from Taiki.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Keiki hesitated. “This might be difficult for you to hear, Taiki,” he said, lowering his tone. “Please don’t be upset about this. The Shirei eat Kirin.”

“What…?”

“To be precise, they eat their corpses. When the Shirei eat the Kirin, they obtain the Kirin’s power for themselves.”

Keiki turned to look at Hankyo. With an expressionless face, Hankyo looked away, his large head pointed at his feet. It was impossible to tell what he was feeling based on this action.

Keiki forced a smile. “Do not worry. Hankyo would never attack you. Kirin are beings of the light. Youma are beings of the shadow. They cannot take a Kirin’s power unless it is given to them.”

“R-right.”

“Kirin use their power to suppress the youma, to drag them from the shadows and into the light. Given that the youma possess strength of their own, it takes a corresponding amount of power to bring them into the fold. You can measure a Kirin’s power by their capacity to convert strong youma.”

“Okay…”

“Considering that they will receive the Kirin’s power after death, the youma make their decision on entering the Kirin’s service based on how much power they will ultimately receive.”

“I kind of get it now,” Taiki said hesitantly.

“No youma will refuse servitude once it has been successfully drawn into the light. That is how much power they are promised to receive.”

“And that’s why you call it a pact?”

“Indeed. The chains are necessary to bind a creature of shadow to the light. It is also a means of protection.”

“So that they can live in the light?”

“Yes. The name is the protecting chain that connects a Kirin to their Shirei. Kirin use their auras to draw out youma and read their names. By bequeathing that name back onto the youma, the Kirin makes the youma their servant. In turn, the youma uses its aura to gauge the Kirin’s strength, and by receiving a name, it receives a claim to the Kirin’s future corpse. Such is conversion, in short.”

“So when the Kirin passes away, the youma eats their corpse, gains new power, and goes back to the wild…”

“In exchange, the Shirei will never disobey their Kirin for the duration of their servitude. They protect their Kirin and would never harm their master.”

Taiki squinted at Hankyo. Although he seemed easygoing, no other creature was more unfathomable. Hankyo glanced away, avoiding Taiki’s gaze, and the impasse continued until all of a sudden his jaw snapped wide open.

Taiki cowered instinctively. Hankyo let out a leisurely yawn and chuckled.

“Hankyo,” Keiki chided him, before turning to Taiki with a stiff smile. “As a matter of fact, adult Kirin use somewhat underhanded tactics. Taiki, are you aware of cleromancy?”

“Are you talking about fortune-telling?”

“It would not be incorrect to describe it as such.” Keiki paused before continuing, “When hunting a particularly powerful youma, the Kirin borrow the powers of cleromancy, astrology, and feng shui. However, these powers require years of study. The sage women would be happy to teach you, but you would not master them in a day or two.”

“Right.”

“To ensure that the youma is at its weakest and the Kirin is at their strongest, the Kirin choose the day, the terrain, the direction, and the youma to convert,” Keiki said. “That is not to say that it is impossible to catch youma without preparation. The same applies for the incantation. It is not as useful as cleromancy and astrology, but you can make do without them. They are simply helpful aids. When you grow accustomed to them, they become habitual in the sense that you might feel at a disadvantage if you were not to use them, but that is all.”

“So I don’t have to go out of my way to learn them?”

“You might as well. Even a small amount of knowledge could prove useful.”

Taiki nodded at this, so Keiki put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, sitting him up straight.

“First, you must correct your posture. Be mindful of it at all times.”

“Okay.”

“There are two types of ki: seiki, which signifies life, and shiki, which signifies death. Before noon is seiki, and afternoon is shiki. When converting a youma, it is best to do it before noon, during the hours of seiki. When you breathe in through your nose, you produce seiki. Shiki is exhaled through the mouth. You must ensure that you breathe in the direction you seek and never the opposite. When you exhale, you must try to do it as softly as possible. That is another thing to be mindful of as you go about your daily life. You will never internalize it otherwise.”

“I breathe in through my nose and breathe out through my mouth. Got it.”

“You must use the uho walk to avoid the youma.”

Keiki demonstrated the unique manner of walking for Taiki.

There was more: Taiki needed to practice brushing his teeth together, known as koushi. This would help him avoid eye contact with youma. Gnashing his right teeth together in particular was known as the tsuitenban technique. The meitenko technique was for focusing ki, and it involved producing a sound with one’s front teeth.

Taiki sighed. “Do I have to remember all of this?”

“It will come to you quickly. Mastering it will require training and discipline, but the sages will teach you if you ask.”

“Okay.”

“I used the Nine Hand Seals to stop Jyakko. Give me your hand.”

Taiki held out his hands as Keiki instructed.

“This is the sword seal. Ready your hands at your hips, perform a sword-drawing motion, and make four vertical cuts and five horizontal cuts.”

Keiki took Taiki’s hand and moved it as a demonstration.

“Now say ‘Rin, byou, tou, sha, kai, jin, retsu, zen, gyou.’”

Taiki did not say the string of words. “This is really hard,” he said instead.

“You will get used to it with a bit of practice. Make sure you draw with a straight hand.” Keiki paused. “You can chant an incantation when the opposing youma loses its aura, though this requires cleromancy knowledge. The only ones you need to remember for now are these: ‘Shinchoku meichoku, tensei chisei. Jinkun seikun, fuo fudaku. Kimi koubuku, onmyou wagou. Kyuu kyuu nyo ritsu ryou.’”

Taiki looked up at Keiki in total bafflement, prompting the older Kirin to grimace.

“It means ‘Convert the apparition, harmonize the forces of yin and yang, and follow the command at once.’”

“Um…okay.”

“Then put your right hand on the top of your head and thrust out your palm to receive the heavens’ will. Point at your feet with your left hand and call out the youma’s name. Sometimes, only the pronunciation will come to you, and on other occasions, the written characters will appear for you as well. All of this is instinctual to a Kirin.”

“Okay.”

Taiki exhaled. Keiki lowered his hand from Taiki’s shoulders and patted the small Kirin on his back.

“We still have time before we enter shiki. Try the techniques I taught you against the small youma.”

Taiki nodded, but in the end, he failed to stop a single youma with his chants.

3

THE SUMMER SOLSTICE WAS UPON THEM.

Sanshi cradled the child fast asleep in his bedchamber. Taiki had been at the Yellow Sea last night—or, more precisely, until the early hours of the morning—and was now unconscious in Sanshi’s arms. Looking at his guileless sleeping face, it was hard to disturb him, but it was getting around the time that he would regret not being woken up.

“Taiki, are you awake?” asked Youka, pulling up the curtain. When she peered inside, her face split into an awkward grin. “Oh, dear,” she laughed, turning to Sanshi. “He had a big day, it seems. How did it go?”

Sanshi shook her head at Youka’s question.

They had wandered the Yellow Sea until dawn, but Taiki never once managed to catch a youma. Even though Keiki and the sage women had drawn lots for cleromancy, the youma would avoid eye contact and slip away. Though they did not verbalize it, both Keiki and Sanshi knew that Taiki’s aura was lacking.

Youka seemed to chew on this information. “I see. I suppose he would be in low spirits.” After some hesitation, she said, “I feel bad for asking this, but he needs to be woken up.”

Sanshi nodded. She rocked Taiki again and called out his name gently.

Youka opened the curtains wide, letting light stream inside. “Taiki, it’s time for you to wake up. Kei-Taiho will be leaving today.”

“Mmm…” Taiki finally stirred. He turned over in the bed, which was soon followed by another snore.

“Oh, dear…”

“How precious.” A voice sounded behind Youka and Sanshi.

The two women hurriedly turned around to the entrance of the bedchamber. “Your Holiness.”

Gyokuyou smiled lusciously. “You seem to be having trouble waking him.”

“He was up late last night. I ask that you let him sleep in.” This was uttered by Keiki, who was standing behind Gyokuyou.

Now Youka was completely flustered. “I apologize for my rudeness, but Taiki—you must wake up.”

“Leave him be. Let him rest,” Keiki declared.

Yet Youka shook her head firmly. “If he sleeps in, he will be disappointed later.”

Sanshi nodded too. She knew the reason why Taiki forced himself to stay awake even after he came home entirely exhausted. Firmly, she rocked his body.

“Taiki… Taiki.”

On the third shake, Taiki’s eyes finally fluttered open. He blinked as if blinded by the light—and immediately sprang up.

“Where’s Taiho?” he asked.

Sanshi stroked his hair. “He’s still here.”

Taiki blinked. His eyes fell on the adults peering at him on his bed and fighting to stifle their smiles. He bowed his head, his face bright red.

“Sorry…! Good morning!”

“Your Holiness, Taiho, I do apologize. He is not generally like this,” said Youka as she passed Gyokuyou a teacup, which she accepted with a smile.

“He seems to idolize you quite a lot,” Gyokuyou said, eyeing Keiki. “Things appear to have gone well.”

Keiki looked glum.

“Were you useful, Kei-Taiho?” Gyokuyou went on.

Youka smiled in a way that did not reach her eyes, and Keiki sighed.

“I apologize that I was of little help,” he said.

“I know how hard it is to teach something that comes naturally to you.” Gyokuyou paused, then said, “I’m satisfied that you’ve learned to speak kindly.”

Keiki’s glumness only deepened. Just as Gyokuyou broke into a laugh, Taiki came in with Sanshi, having finished getting dressed.

“Please excuse me,” Taiki said.

Keiki put his teacup on the table before standing up and performing a bow. “Taiki, I must be getting home.”

The child looked up at Keiki with red eyes. “Is it already time for you to go?”

“I cannot be away from my country for too long. I apologize that I could not be of more help to you.”

“Not at all. I’m the one who should apologize for not being a good student.”

“That was certainly not the case.”

“Take care,” Taiki said hesitantly.

“You too.”

“I will.”

Taiki looked up at Keiki with a scrunched-up expression, as if he was trying to hold back tears. Keiki returned the gaze and gently placed his hand on Taiki’s head. “Do not fret… Kirin are created by the heavens. The Lord Above will do right by you.”

“Right…”

“I hope that you can meet your ruler soon. When you descend to your native land, Kei will be across the Kyokai. We will have other opportunities to cross paths,” said Keiki.

Taiki gripped Keiki’s sleeve with his small hands. “Really?”

Keiki smiled, gladdened by Taiki’s unspoken desire for them to meet again. “I promise. When you go to your native land, I will come straight to you to celebrate.”

At this, Taiki’s face broke out into a glowing smile. “Okay!”

Keiki would have liked to stay until Taiki had at least acquired a Shirei, or until the meetings with the aspiring monarchs had calmed down, but that was too much to ask. Keiki had left his country unoccupied for long enough. He’d left a message beforehand that he would be away until the summer solstice at the latest.

After a pause, Taiki asked, “Where will you be setting off from?”

“The Hakki Pavilion.”

“Can I stay with you until you get there?”

Keiki smiled. “Of course. Shall I call Hankyo and Jyakko?”

“Okay.”

Gyokuyou stood up as well, her eyes flitting between the two very differently sized Kirin. “Taiki, are you getting along with Kei-Taiho’s Shirei?”

“Hankyo plays with me a lot.”

“That is good to hear.” She smiled and turned to Keiki, who had his hand on the small Kirin’s shoulder. “I’m glad for you as well, Kei-Taiho. It would seem that you have learned something of the art of kindness.”

“But…” Taiki looked up at Gyokuyou. “Kei-Taiho was nice to me from the very start.”

Gyokuyou and Youka exchanged glances at Taiki’s completely earnest-sounding tone. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Taiki declared, prompting Gyokuyou to smile. Keiki, for his part, seemed to have very mixed feelings, judging by his expression. The sages standing in the corner of the room failed to restrain their giggles—Youka first and foremost among them.

Naturally, none of the sages—not even Gyokuyou herself—could have foreseen that Keiki’s clumsy kindness would cause Jyokaku, queen of Kei, to stray from her path.

But that is a story for another day.

4

ALTHOUGH TAIKI APPEARED SOMEWHAT DOWN-hearted following Keiki’s departure, he did not have the time to stay glum. The day after the summer solstice, the sage women took shifts lining the path all the way up to Hoto Palace. They performed lavish incense offerings and dressed themselves up in resplendent clothing. The palace’s interior and Taiki’s robes were similarly opulent.

The festivities had begun on Mount Hou.

Taiki sat upon a rock near the Shashinboku. Within the labyrinth, the wind carried the scent of flowers, but upon the rock, only the smell of the sea reached his nose. It was a terribly peculiar phenomenon.

Something was approaching from the southwest.

Taiki recalled how the Yellow Sea had appeared from atop Keiki’s transformed back. Mount Hou consisted of green rocks that traced their way down to the base of the mountain in an intricate pattern. Although the rock maze appeared convoluted at first glance, there was only one path up to Hoto Palace. The countless Ascendances of distant years past had left their indelible mark.

The existence of only one path meant that there was only one way to reach Mount Hou. Atop a short flight of stone steps at the mountain’s base stood an enormous gate which had no doors, only pillars and a roof. Naturally, there were no walls or enclosures around, but this also meant that the gate was the sole means of entry.

The roads from the other three directions converged onto it. They cut through the Yellow Sea, and much like the road to Mount Hou, these paths showed signs of use across many long years. The rocks were worn away by footprints, and there were footholds etched on the sheer slopes. Stepping stones bridged the swamps and rivers, and stone monuments dotted the wastelands. Log bridges covered the crevasses, and the woodlands were filled with trimmed branches, creating a narrow pathway around the trees.

The paths extended to the four gates at the end of the Yellow Sea. One of those gates, the Reikon Gate in the southwest corner, had already opened and closed. Taiki wondered about the travelers who had passed through it on the summer solstice—where were they now? The journey could not have been easy, given that the Yellow Sea was home to youma and youjyuu. Given that everyone passed through the gate on the same day, people formed caravan-like groups to protect each other from danger. Taiki had even heard that some people worked as mercenaries of sorts, offering guard services for a fee.

“I’m nervous…” Taiki muttered, his chin resting on his knees as he hugged himself.

Sanshi, who sat next to him, spoke up quietly. “Do not be afraid.”

“I know…”

It was like a premonition.

Just as he was playing and practicing the simple cleromancy technique the sage women had taught him, he happened to look up. At that moment, he felt an ache in his chest. When he recalled that he was looking to the southwest, where the Reikon Gate lay, something like a chill ran down his spine. He felt his pulse quicken.

It was not a good premonition by any means. Whatever was approaching him, it was something to be feared.

“I wonder if I can do the job properly.”

“You certainly will,” was all Sanshi could say. More than the strength in her words, it was the sound of the wind that lingered in Taiki’s ears.

“Do you suppose the ruler of Tai is on their way?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s too soon for them to be here, right?”

“Would you rather the monarch not be here?”

“Yeah…”

Sanshi peered at her master as he hugged his knees, evidently tense.

Was he upset at the idea of leaving Mount Hou because the king or queen was here, or was he afraid of being tested? Either way, Sanshi could feel Taiki’s trepidation about the passing of the summer solstice, so much so that it hurt to be in his proximity.

Those who attempted the Ascendance either believed themselves to be worthy rulers or were recommended by their peers. In fact, the overwhelming majority of kings and queens came through the Ascendance.

Perhaps Taiki feared the very idea of someone possessing the right to rule. By choosing a monarch, a Kirin shouldered the burden of an entire nation, while the monarch was responsible for the Kirin’s life through their own decisions. If the king or queen strayed off the path, the consequences would fall on the Kirin who chose them. Their erring would make the Kirin fall ill, a sickness known as Shitsudou. Once afflicted, there was almost no way of curing it; it was a grave illness indeed. Thus, it could be said that a monarch held their Kirin’s very life in their hands.

Entrusting one’s life to another person was a terrifying prospect.

“Nobody can climb the mountain that quickly…” Taiki said, more to convince himself than anything. Sanshi stayed silent.

Taiki had no Shirei, nor could he transform. He was only dimly aware of himself as a Kirin. It was understandable for Taiki to suffer a crisis of confidence, and Sanshi could not blame him for being ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

“Kei-Taiho, he…” Sanshi began.

Taiki looked at her, tearing his gaze away from the southwest.

“He said that the heavens will do right by you.”

Taiki looked up at the sky once more. His face in profile exposed a child’s determination.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly.

The wind blew above the rocks with unrelenting swiftness.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

1

“TAIKI, PLEASE COME OUT TO THE OTHER PALACE today.”

When Teiei finally said this over breakfast, not much time at all had passed since the summer solstice.

The day has arrived, thought Taiki as he put down his chopsticks.

“Okay,” he said.

That morning, Sanshi woke him up earlier than usual. The clothes she prepared for him were unusually extravagant, which made him vaguely suspect what was going to happen.

Youka patted him lightly on the back. “You needn’t be so nervous.”

“Are you coming too?” he asked her.

Youka smiled. “I will. I’ll be with you the whole way.”

“Sanshi too?” he asked, expecting the answer to be no.

Surprisingly, however, Teiei nodded. “Of course.” But then she paused. “However, she will be concealed. Although you will not be able to see her, rest assured that she will remain close by your side.”

Taiki sighed in disappointment. “Concealed” meant she would quite literally be hiding. She could not be able to hold his hand or pat him on the back.

“Okay,” he said eventually.

Surrounded by ten sage women—Teiei and Youka among them—Taiki walked along the path until he stopped at the gate of Houro Palace.

The sages took to the fore, lifting the bolt off the gate.

He recalled that the outer labyrinth was sparse and desolate, but when the gate swung open, the scenery had completely changed. Color abounded in the vast green grassland connecting the rows of rocks. People had set up tents, and there were countless flags raised high in the sky. Horses, strange beasts, and their associated harnesses and saddles were attached to makeshift stakes and fences. And there were people of all appearances and walks of life around.

Taiki was confronted with a town.

When he flinched involuntarily at the sight, Teiei took his hand. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Come, now, steady your breathing and ready yourself.”

Nodding with his eyes, Taiki straightened up and took a deep breath.

With Teiei pulling him by the hand, Taiki took a step forward. The men standing at a nearby tent noticed him at the same time. When they knelt to the ground, it caused a ripple effect; soon enough, everyone in the grassland murmured and followed suit.

Keeping a firm grip on Teiei’s hand, Taiki gazed fixedly at the bobbing hairpins on the sage women in front of him, trying to stave off the gnawing feeling accompanying all those countless staring eyes.

“Are you okay?” Youka gently asked behind him.

“Yeah.” Taiki paused. “Am I allowed to speak?”

“There’s no issue with that. Do as your heart dictates.”

“Okay.”

Apparently, this ceremony wasn’t as stuffy as he had assumed. This thought gave Taiki a bit of breathing room.

“Is this all of them?”

“No,” Teiei answered. “Over half of these people are attendants.”

“Oh, good.”

Scanning the crowd, Taiki saw many people wearing armor. There were quite a few youths around, although he saw a lot of elderly people as well. Most were men, but there was no shortage of women.

“There’s a lot of women.”

Teiei smiled at this comment. It was more of a strained smile than her usual one, which suggested that she was nervous in her own way.

“Of course. Would you rather serve a king or a queen, Taiki?”

“I don’t know.”

Stone paved the way from the gate to Hoto Palace. On both sides of the path, a great many adults were on their knees, heads pointed at the ground. Taiki thought that it made for a deeply unnatural sight.

“Why is everyone sitting?”

“That is the etiquette.” Teiei had long come to accept that Taiki had trouble wrapping his head around the concept of social division.

“Do I haveto say hello to them?”

“Not for now. If someone strikes your interest, you may initiate a conversation by telling them to stand.”

“We’re allowed to talk?”

“After the incense ceremony, yes. I’m sure you’ll be able to hear plenty of unusual stories.”

Taiki went silent for a moment. “There are lots of big beasts.”

“Those are youjyuu. They serve as mounts.”

“I see…”

One beast looked like a tiger, another resembled a lion, and others reminded him of horses and bulls.

“Do youjyuu have to be converted too?”

“Youjyuu are captured by hunters. They can become obedient with training.” At this point, Teiei decided to change the subject. “Now then, watch your step. You must give thanks at the altar when you go inside.”

Taiki turned his wandering eyes back to his front, facing Hoto Palace.

Unlike almost all the other buildings, Hoto Palace had walls on all four sides. When Taiki strode inside, he no longer felt the gazes upon him, which brought him considerable relief.

The interior consisted of a large open room with a tall ceiling. An altar stood directly at the fore. The atmosphere felt very similar to the main part of a Buddhist temple. Taiki bowed as Teiei instructed before walking up to the altar and placing incense there. Then, the sages led him to the right of the altar onto an elevated platform, which was about eight tatami mats across and wide in Japanese architectural terms. A wall stood behind the platform, surrounded on three sides by hanging bamboo blinds. The blind directly facing the front was currently raised, revealing a chair. When Taiki sat down, he could see everything from the entrance of Hoto Palace to the altar.

As he quietly watched the sage women carry out the incense ceremony, he felt stares on his back. Looking at the palace entrance, he saw a large crowd had gathered there.

When they completed the ceremony, nearly all the sage women stepped up onto the altar and lowered the bamboo blinds, which elicited a great sigh from him.

“You may relax now,” Teiei said with a smile.

“It was nerve-racking having so many people watch me,” Taiki said.

“You’ll get used to it before long.”

“Can’t I call for Sanshi?”

“You may when the blinds are down,” Teiei said.

When Taiki summoned Sanshi, she instantly appeared from under his feet. Only when she wrapped her leopard arms around his head, as if praising him for a job well done, did he finally relax. Her arms felt ever so warm.

“I could tell how nervous you were. You don’t need to be so stiff,” Teiei said with a small smile.

“I know that in my head,” Taiki said. Then, he asked, “What happens now?”

“Those who have made the Ascendance will give their offerings. You are free to gaze upon them until they leave. Alternatively, if you grow tired of this place, you may go outside and converse with the climbers.”

As Teiei said this, someone came inside the palace to offer incense. The first person walked up to the altar and carried out the motions with a strange stiffness.

“Taiki, do you feel any Ouki?” Teiei whispered into his ear.

Taiki shook his head. He meant that to say “I don’t know,” but Teiei seemed understanding.

“You must stay here for a while, Taiki.”

“I suppose this is how I check to see if anyone is a monarch.”

“Correct. Please whisper to us if the king or queen appears.”

“Okay…”

The man, having finished offering the incense, returned to the front of the altar. When he bowed and sat on his knees, Taiki saw that the man was about the age of his father. He had the large build of a sumo wrestler. Taiki concentrated on his senses as he listened to the man converse with the sage women below the altar. The divine revelation—or whatever it was—did not appear to manifest, although he had no way of telling.

When Teiei shot him a questioning look, he responded with a shake of his head.

Nothing resembling divine revelation happened that day.

2

TAIKI OBEDIENTLY WATCHED THE CEREMONY, though he grew weary of it by the second day.

On the fourth day, he made up his mind to venture outside.

The ceremony was carried out only in a short span of time before noon. Taiki observed it from his seat on the platform. At first, it was novel to watch all the people with their distinct outfits and body types—it was so rare to see anyone but the sage women in his day-to-day life, after all—but his body soon ached from maintaining his sitting position. He was glad that he was permitted to leave before noon, but it still meant a lot of time spent just sitting.

“May I go outside?”

All the sage women on the platform visibly brightened at Taiki’s question. They must have been bored themselves.

“Of course you may.” Youka beamed.

“Were you, um, waiting for me to say that?”

“Not necessarily.” Youka laughed. “But it is true that I was a little bored. It’s my sixth time this morning seeing Sir Pumpkin’s face.”

The sages broke out into snickers.

There were some repeat visitors across the day. The man who came in on the first day was a prime example of that—he showed up for an incense ceremony ten times every single day until Taiki finally left. Apparently, he was some kind of official, although his round, red face made him look like a pumpkin, leading the sages to secretly dub him “Sir Pumpkin.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay outside?” Taiki asked.

It was Teiei’s turn to smile. “You’ll be fine. We’ll come with you, and there are plenty of people around. Even if there was another person of dubious character, the others would intervene on your behalf. Everybody wants to be in your good graces, after all.”

The sages had already expelled ten foolish individuals who had tried to sneak into Houro Palace, though they saw no need to tell Taiki about that.

“I see,” Taiki said quietly.

“I suppose you’ll be swamped with greetings, though I doubt that it will be as painful as sitting here all day. Oh, but you must keep your conversations short, or you may be subjected to terribly long spiels.”

“Conversations? I can talk with them?”

“Let’s see. If you happen to find your monarch, then tradition dictates that you bow before them and—”

“‘I will never leave your side, nor shall I disobey your orders. I swear an oath of fealty,’ right?”

Teiei nodded. “Yes.”

“What if they’re not the monarch?”

“It is currently the summer solstice, so going by tradition, you should say, ‘I wish you well for the day of the equinox.’ If you are speaking during the equinox, then you would say, ‘I wish you well for the day of the solstice.’”

“So I’m basically saying, ‘I hope you’ll be okay for the next Day of Safe Passage.’”

“Indeed.”

“What do I do if I don’t know whether they’re the monarch?”

Teiei’s smile broadened. “That would never happen.”

“Can Sanshi come with me?”

“If she is concealed, yes. However, you must take care never to call for her out in the open. She will frighten the horses and youjyuu.”

The sages below the platform cast envious looks up in Taiki’s direction as he stepped outside, surrounded by the sage women. The women waiting below would have to watch the people carrying out the incense ceremonies and interact with them.

Ascendance season was a grand celebration for the aspiring monarchs, but as far as the sage women were concerned, it was just another festival. The sages regretted little about their station, although their lifespans were so long that they eventually grew weary of living. Every one of them spent a great deal of time on their appearance following the summer solstice, and this was not solely to make themselves look dignified. They unabashedly made fun of the men who attempted the Ascendance, all while keeping a straight face. For some sage women, the teasing turned into more serious flirtations in due course, and they would descend the mountain along with their chosen man.

Taiki’s effort toward a change of scenery was immediately spoiled when the aforementioned subject of teasing—Sir Pumpkin—came sprinting at him the moment he stepped outside. He must have been lurking right near the palace, for his speed was altogether impressive.

With an audible thump, he fell to his knees. So vigorous was his prostration that his chin whacked the ground. The sage women were unable to hold back their laughter, and the same went for the people who were not quite as hasty as Sir Pumpkin in leaving their tents.

“G-good tidings to you, lord of Mount Hou.” The man’s voice was amusingly breathless in his fervor. “I am Rohaku, Minister of War for the Sui Province of Tai. I, erm, hail from the Nanyou County of the Ba Province, and I—”

He spoke rapidly, keeping his face planted on the ground. To make matters worse, he was so flustered that he stumbled frequently over his words, which meant that Taiki took in almost nothing from his lengthy spiel.

“It is the highest of honors to be in your exalted presence. May you be blessed in all things, my lord!”

Taiki shot Youka a helpless look, and she looked back with raised eyebrows. Reading the implicit message in her eyes, Taiki spoke to the prostrating man. “I wish you well for the day of the equinox.”

The man’s head sprang up from the dirt, and his large shoulders visibly drooped. “I…I see… I see how it is,” he muttered, dejected.

Stifling a laugh, Youka patted Taiki on the back. “There, that’s how you do it. Now keep that up as you walk around.”

The man kept looking back the whole time he was ushered away. Once he was some distance off, one of the sages whispered to Taiki, “He went on for ages before you stopped him, Taiki. It really had me thinking, ‘Wait, really? Is he the one?’”

“I didn’t know when to interrupt,” Taiki said sheepishly.

“Well, thank goodness. You’d be wasted on a master like him.”

She seemed deeply relieved, which made Taiki cock his head.

“Was he a bad egg?”

“If you had a divine revelation, that question would be irrelevant. But if, say, that Pumpkin were the king, then Tai would lose some of its dignity and standing. The ruler does not need to be a standout beauty, but appearances do count for something. Let’s hope for someone with a bit more sophistication, at least.”

“Oh… Is that how it works?”

Youka laughed. “Oh, dear, don’t ask that with such a straight face. The divine revelation is the only thing that matters at the end of the day.”

The other sages wasted no time in making their jabs at her.

“Oh, really, Youka? You say that, but has there ever been someone who wasn’t a looker in the history of all the monarchs?”

“Yes, a ruler’s grace shows through their appearance. They’ve got to have a majestic look about them.”

“The people are watching,” Youka whispered in a low voice, prompting the sages to immediately fall quiet. Chuckling at this, Youka turned to Taiki and stooped for him. “Pay no heed to their thoughtless comments, Taiki. You just need to wait for your divine revelation.”

“Okay,” Taiki mumbled.

3

WAVES OF PEOPLE ENCIRCLED HIM. MANY people subjected Taiki to long-winded speeches, though he felt no changes within him.

Over three hundred attempted the Ascendance this time, attendants included. Although it was the masters who made their bid for the throne, the servants had just as much opportunity to make an impression.

Some people came running over to Taiki as soon as they spotted him, while others were dissuaded by the disapproving looks from the sages. The sages told them that the Kirin would know if there was a ruler among them without even needing to converse, though Taiki detected no sign of a revelation. Whether they spoke to him or not, the people gave Taiki the same expectant look, and he felt just as bad about letting them down.

When there was a break in the crowd, Taiki let out a deep sigh. Youka peered at his face inquisitively. “Are you weary?”

“No, not yet. But I’ve seen a lot of people’s faces in a short time.”

“It is past noon now, so how about we return to Hoto Palace? I’m sure you’d like a break. Or would you like to return to Houro Palace for the day?”

Taiki hesitated and then said, “Yeah.”

As he nodded, his eyes instinctively swept over the crowd. Something made his gaze stop.

“Youka,” he said abruptly, tugging her hand. “There’s a dog with wings.”

Outside a nearby tent, an enormous dog mingled with the horses. A small group of men and women were attending to it.

“That is a Tenba. Would you like to have a closer look at it?”

“You don’t mind?”

“It’s perfectly fine,” said Youka, pulling Taiki along by the hand toward the tent that the dog was tethered to.

It was a large dog with a white body and black head. Its short wings, folded against its back, made for a beautiful sight.

“Ah, it is one of the lords of Mount Hou. I am glad to see you in good health.”

A beefily built woman broke off from the group attending to the dog. She approached Taiki and Youka and got straight onto her knees to greet them.

“Is this Tenba your mount?” asked Youka.

“That would be correct.”

“Would you be willing to show it to the lord?”

“With pleasure.”

Smiling, the woman urged Taiki and Youka to approach the Tenba. Youka patted Taiki on the back. Nervously, he stepped near and saw that the Tenba was even bigger than his eyes had initially suggested.

“It’s huge…” he muttered.

The woman, who appeared to be the master of the group, knelt down again near the Tenba. “Nevertheless, it is small for a Tenba,” she responded.

“Please stand,” said Taiki. After a pause, he added, “Can I touch it?”

“Thank you very much.” Standing up, the woman said, “You may stroke it if you wish. This one is very obedient.”

With a bit of hesitation, Taiki reached out his hand. The sleek fur was coarser than it looked. When Taiki stroked the Tenba’s neck, it closed its eyes, apparently soothed by the sensation.

“It’s really well trained… What’s its name?”

“It goes by the name of Hien.”

“Hien,” he called out to the Tenba, prompting it to rub the lower part of its ears against his hand, its eyes still closed. “It won’t bite?” Taiki asked the woman.

“You are perfectly safe. Among youjyuu, Tenba have very mild temperaments. Hien has a particularly gentle disposition. He knows which people he is not meant to bite.”

“He’s smart.”

Taiki chatted with the woman for a while. He asked simple questions like how she found Hien, how she trained him, and how it felt to ride him. The woman gave clear answers. Despite her mild-mannered choice of words and tone of voice, there was a crispness to her responses that made Taiki think that a certain strength flowed beneath the surface.

Taiki still had trouble determining an adult’s age based on appearance. Although he could not tell how old this woman was, she did seem quite a bit older than Youka and Teiei—but perhaps that was because of the way she carried herself. She felt so different from the sage women that even their ages seemed like worlds apart.

The sage women generally had graceful and vibrant appearances. This was especially the case at present, when they wore vivid-looking kimono and beautiful hairpins. In contrast, this woman wore men’s clothes with subdued colors. She let her brown hair hang loose, and there were no accessories on her person. She was also quite tall, and there was no hint of delicacy in her movements. Although Taiki thought she was pretty, her beauty was a very different type than that of Gyokuyou and the sages.

“Thank you very much,” Taiki said after some time, reluctantly pulling his hand away from Hien’s neck.

“It was not a problem at all. Hien was happy too.”

“May I ask where you came from?”

“I hail from the Jyou Province. My name is Risai, general of the Jyou Provincial Army. My family name is Ryuushi.”

Taiki’s eyes widened slightly.

Every kingdom had nine provinces. The lord of each province controlled their own military, called the Provincial Lord’s Army—or the Provincial Army for short. The size of this army differed depending on the province’s size, ranging between two to four divisions. It also stood to reason that each province had only two to four generals.

“Wow, so you’re a general.” This explained why she felt so different from the sage women.

“That I am, to the best of my meager ability.”

She seemed like such a good-hearted person, which made it somewhat difficult to let her down. Even so, Taiki felt nothing resembling a divine revelation when he beheld her.

“I wish you well for the day of the equinox,” he said eventually.

A slightly self-effacing smile came upon Risai’s lips, but that was the extent of her reaction. She quickly resumed her previous smile and bowed in his direction. “My thanks. I wish you the best of health yourself, my lord.”

“Thank you very much.” Choosing was difficult. The fact that the divine revelation appeared to have no correlation with Taiki’s likes or dislikes made it all the more bittersweet. “Um… Can I see Hien again some other time?”

Risai smiled without a hint of reservation. “Of course you may. Just say the word.”

4

AFTER HE PARTED WAYS WITH THE TENBA AND walked a lap around the area, a fight broke out just when Taiki was about to return to the palace.

A crowd had formed just up ahead. When the sages whispered around to ask what was happening, someone shouted that it was a fight. Taiki instantly clung to Youka’s sleeve.

Violence of any description sparked fear on a visceral level for him. It was the same kind of feeling he got from seeing blood. It was not that he was scared of being struck—it was the very act of striking another person that he found abhorrent, and he could not help but shrink in fright at those who committed such acts.

“What is the meaning of this disturbance?” a sage woman asked reproachfully.

The people fell on their knees upon noticing them.

“Um… Well…”

Given the master of Mount Hou’s instinctual dislike of blood and violence, any form of bloodshed was strictly forbidden. Depending on the reason for the fight, it was even grounds for throwing the perpetrators off Mount Hou.

“Good grief, this is why you can never be too careful around the people of Tai. They can be so hotheaded,” a sage grumbled to herself as she faced the crowd.

Every kingdom had its own national character, one could say. Tai’s people were famous for their tempers. A nation’s Kirin was generally meant to inherit that trait, but there were exceptions to every rule.

“Cease this! Where do you think you are?!”

The crowd split at the sage’s shout, revealing two men at the nexus.

One was huge, possessing a boulder-like frame and brandishing a longsword. The other had a sterling physique too, despite his smaller stature. Although he carried a sword at his hip, it was not drawn. Instead, he chose to wield his fists. Even so, one could tell at a glance that the shorter man was winning.

This man drew Taiki’s eyes. His black armor stood in contrast against his white hair. His skin was heavily suntanned. He was tall, and both his physique and movements evoked the litheness of a wild beast.

Before the sages even had time to run in and intervene, the duel drew to a close. The shorter man’s fist slid right past the giant’s sword and connected soundly against his brawny frame. The giant fell to the ground but was unable to rise.

The victor’s gaze swept imperiously over his opponent’s prone body. “Do not draw your sword in a lord of Mount Hou’s abode. Apologize to him.” No hint of agitation tainted his movements, nor was there any in his voice. Upon making this cold utterance, the man turned around—and met eyes with Taiki.

His irises were a deep crimson red.

Like blood.

Taiki shrank back, instinctively grabbing Youka’s sleeve. The sight of this man evoked his fear.

Yet before Taiki could pull on Youka’s hand and flee, the man approached him first. He got on his knees and said, “I was unaware of your presence.”

His eyes softened, and in that moment, he appeared slightly less severe. It was enough for Taiki to suppress his urge to flee on the spot, at least. Even so, he kept a firm grip on Youka’s sleeve.

“I beg your forgiveness for my ill-mannered behavior,” the man said.

Taiki could not muster a reply.

Youka confronted the man in his stead. “You must refrain from fighting on Mount Hou.”

“My deepest apologies.”

Youka kept her hands around Taiki’s body, and she moved them in a soothing fashion. She stroked his back lightly and gave him a gentle nudge forward.

“It’s fine now. The fight has ended and nobody was injured,” she said, mostly for Taiki’s benefit.

Taiki nodded. He was too frightened of the man before him to even speak.

The man on his knees looked older than Risai. Perhaps he appeared that way because of his white hair, which had a bluish sheen and hung from a simple low ponytail. He had sharp, clean-cut features and intelligent eyes which peered directly at Taiki with a piercing intensity.

The man’s lips curled into a faintly self-deprecating smile. “I appear to have frightened you. My apologies.”

“Oh, no…” Taiki finally found his voice. “I was just a bit surprised… Where did you come from?”

“Kouki, my lord. I am General Saku of the Forbidden Troops of Tai.”

The crowd stirred lightly at this, indicating that this man was perhaps something of a celebrity.

The Forbidden Troops operated directly under the ruler’s control. They were called the Six Armies, for they consisted of three armies plus another three under the Kirin’s command at the province of the kingdom’s capital city. Given a Kirin’s characteristics, they were unfit to command a military, so the ruler controlled the army in their stead—hence why the Six Armies were also called the Royal Army.

“My birth name is Sou. My courtesy name is Gyousou.”

His unswerving gaze sent a chill down Taiki’s spine. Seized by the compulsive desire to say something, Taiki settled for verbalizing the obvious.

“So you’re a general, huh?”

This man struck a terribly stern image, a far cry from Risai’s mild-mannered demeanor. Taiki had no way of knowing whether it came down to their individual personalities or if that was the difference between the generals of the Forbidden Troops and the provincial armies.

“That is so, for the sword is my only talent.”

So Gyousou said, but Taiki could tell that the man was confident in all manner of areas. He brimmed with an almost blinding amount of aura.

Taiki was gripped with the powerful urge to flee.

As with all the other times, he checked to see if anything had changed about himself before furtively tugging on Youka’s sleeve.

“I wish you well for the day of the equinox,” he said finally. It was the only thing he could manage.

He bowed slightly, cutting off eye contact, so he did not see what expression Gyousou made.

Slight murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“So it wasn’t Saku, huh?” somebody said.

It was from this that Taiki learned that the man was recognized as the king of Tai among his peers.

5

“GYOUSOU? OH, YOU MEAN GENERAL SAKU OF the Royal Army, yes?” said Risai, the female general, in response to Taiki’s question.

The day after they became acquainted, the Kirin went over to visit Hien. There was no hint of disappointment in her warm welcome. As the sage women chatted with Risai’s attendants, Taiki and Risai sat near Hien.

“You’re a general too, Risai-dono. Are you acquainted with him?”

Risai responded in the negative. “I might be a general, but I serve in a provincial lord’s army. As a general who serves directly under the king, Gyousou-dono and I occupy very different standings.”

She was basically saying that a general of a provincial army was worlds apart from a general of the Forbidden Troops. The latter could ascend to the palace and interact with the monarch directly. They even wielded political influence by participating in the court councils. A general of a provincial army was but a simple soldier, while a general of the Forbidden Troops was something like a vassal to the monarch.

“So he’s famous, then?”

“He is. They say he’s impressive with the sword, and the soldiers place a great deal of confidence in him. I have also heard that although he tends to be stern and heavy-handed, he is knowledgeable in both books and etiquette,” said Risai, meeting Taiki’s gaze. “Have you an interest in him?”

Taiki hesitated and said, “I saw him fighting yesterday…”

Risai hummed in understanding. “I heard some reckless fool raised Gyousou-dono’s ire. Now, here’s the thing—that fellow was more in the wrong. From what I hear, he was very insulting. Gyousou-dono is not so quick to start duels otherwise.”

“Oh, really…?”

Risai met Taiki’s gaze squarely. “Is Gyousou-dono the king?”

Taiki hurriedly shook his head. “Oh, no. I was just… I got this very scary feeling from him…”

Surprisingly, a look of slight disappointment crossed Risai’s face. “Oh…so it wasn’t Gyousou-dono…”

“I heard someone say that yesterday.”

Risai laughed. “He might be inflexible, but he is not a scary person. I imagine he’s an upstanding individual. To gain the respect of the 12,500 soldiers in his army is no mean feat. Although he has no shortage of enemies, his allies revere him more than anyone…which is why it is a shame.”

“Are you an ally of Gyousou-dono?” Taiki asked.

Risai ruffled Hien’s fur. “I am. Although we have never met, I respect his accomplishments as a fellow military commander. If he were the king, I would not have questioned it.”

“Is he that strong?”

Risai nodded. “They say that in the field of swordplay, Gyousou is second only to the king of En.”

“Wow…”

“Although Gyousou-dono is not the only qualified individual, the people hold him in high esteem. It is rare to find someone with both military strength and a benevolent heart.”

Taiki nodded, even as his mind whispered, But I didn’t have a divine revelation…

“What a shame indeed.” Risai spoke with sincere frankness.

Anyone involved with the military knew that General Saku of the Forbidden Troops was a man of exceptional talent. He was appointed to the position at an unusually young age, and the people spoke well of his success at quelling the civil unrest at the time. The other kingdoms had no shortage of generals who were simply strong or generals who were simply benevolent. The fact that General Saku possessed both qualities made him such a rarity that his reputation preceded him even beyond his homeland.

In fact, there were some attempting the Ascendance who, upon rushing to the Rekon Gate and learning that Gyousou was among their ranks, assumed that the throne was beyond their grasp.

Risai came here because her peers encouraged her with compliments, saying that she was a very warmhearted and capable general. By all measures, she was a worthy candidate. Even so, if Gyousou’s reputation was to be believed, then Risai had to frankly admit that she was outmatched.

“Alas…” she muttered.

This prompted Taiki to speak up hesitantly. “I think you would have been a good queen, Risai-dono.”

Risai broke out into a broad grin. “What an honor to hear. Thank you for the kind words.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m truly flattered that you would say so, but you mustn’t let your heart sway you so easily. Some may try to curry favor with you to climb the social ladder.”

Taiki cocked his head at her teasing gaze. “Surely not.”

“Why would you say that? There are many who harbor such ambitions. Some have undergone the Ascendance not because they believed from the outset that they would be chosen, but so that they could make connections with you and the next ruler.”

“People do that?”

“Yes, unfortunately. I myself might harbor hopes that I will be called to the Royal Army when you descend to Tai.”

Taiki tilted his head. “You’re not that kind of person…I think.”

Risai’s smile widened further. “You certainly know how to compliment.”

“Does it really make you that happy to hear?”

“But of course.” Risai laughed and stood up, flicking straw off her clothes. “Your attendants appear to be absorbed in conversation. Would you like to walk around with me?”

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

1

“MAY I GO OUTSIDE, YOUKA?” TAIKI ASKED DIFFIDENTLY the moment they arrived at Hoto Palace.

Youka chuckled. “Go right ahead. Are you going to see Risai-dono again?”

“Is that not allowed…?”

“Oh, there’s no problem. She seems to be of good character. Besides, she is a general, so I am sure her skills can be counted on if the unexpected were to happen.”

With permission granted, Taiki left the palace, surrounded by the sage women whose turn it was to accompany him.

Much like Taiki, the sages came to be more familiar with the aspiring rulers as the days passed. One by one, they stopped to chat with people passing by, causing the numbers around Taiki to dwindle. Even Youka stopped when she spotted Risai’s tent so that she could strike up a conversation with an attendant.

Taiki ran the remaining distance. Although fewer people accosted him to make introductions now, there was still no end of people who approached him to talk about something or other. He had learned that moving quickly was the best way to avoid capture.

“Risai-dono,” he called out to the general as she emerged from her tent.

“Come this way,” she said.

“Did you know I was coming?”

“Hien made a happy sound at your approach.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. Perhaps he sees you as his master.”

“No way.”

“I wouldn’t write off the possibility, although I haven’t asked directly, seeing as youjyuu do not speak.” Risai laughed as she patted Hien’s head. “Well? What are your thoughts, Hien?”

The Tenba whipped his head away from her, preferring to nuzzle Taiki’s chest.

Risai made a self-effacing grin. “See? What did I tell you?”

After combing Hien’s fur for a while, Taiki went out for a walk with Risai until midday. She answered Taiki’s questions in detail and patiently explained everything unusual that he pointed out to her.

Risai introduced him to her acquaintances as well. She appeared to have gotten to know them after they attempted the Ascendance, but every single one of them seemed like a good person. Taiki had no reservations walking around with Risai; it was always good fun.

“I suppose everyone here is a citizen of Tai, right? There’s nobody from any of the other kingdoms?” Taiki asked casually as they walked around an open field surrounded by spring water gushing from the rocks.

Risai chuckled lightly. “Of course. The ruler of Tai is always one of its citizens.”

“Oh, so there’s a rule?”

“Were you unaware?” Risai asked, looking slightly astonished.

“I was living in Hourai until very recently, so there’s a lot I don’t know.”

“Ah.” Risai nodded. “Is that so? Apologies for my rudeness. But yes, there is a rule that a kingdom’s ruler must be born there.”

“So that means everyone here came from Tai?”

“Not necessarily. You only need to be born there.”

“Ohhh…”

As Taiki walked along, his hand in Risai’s, his feet came to a sudden stop.

“Risai-dono, there’s a very pretty animal over there,” he said, turning to gawk.

Risai nodded. “Ah, that’s a Suugu. It is a splendid creature indeed.”

It looked a lot like a tiger, and its fur had a peculiar multicolored sheen that reached all the way to the tip of its magnificently long tail. Unlike the Tenba, which gave off a gentle impression, this creature radiated raw, ferocious strength.

“Suugu are at the apex of the youjyuu. They can run across the entire country in a single day.”

“Whoa.”

The sages had told Taiki that crossing the country took a month on horseback.

“And they are very clever and loyal to their masters. Given how fierce they are, there is no better animal to take to the battlefield.” Risai approached the Suugu, entranced. “I hope I can tame a Suugu myself.”

“Really? But don’t you already have Hien?”

“Yes. Hien is tame and adorable, but his sweet temper makes him less suited to a battlefield. I am a military commander, and I must prioritize those needs above all else.”

“I…see.”

“I hope I can find a Suugu on the way home from Mount Hou.”

“Would you catch it and take it with you?”

Risai flashed him a smile. “That’s the plan. I wanted to meet you, of course, but that was another thing I was looking forward to, to be honest.”

“Oh, I see…”

“I could purchase one out of pocket, but youjyuu don’t respect masters who buy them with money.” Risai paused. “No, even if that were not the case, I would still want to catch a youjyuu with my own ability.”

“That makes sense.”

Risai smiled and nodded, then called out to the tent where the Suguu was tethered. “Excuse me, is the owner of this Suguu present?”

“If you are referring to Keito, I am his rider.” A sudden voice came from behind them. Risai swung around, unable to conceal her surprise. She made a gesture as if bracing herself for battle.

“Gyousou-dono…”

It was the man from before. He wasn’t wearing his armor today, yet he had not forgotten to keep a sword at his hip. It was impossible to forget his icelike hair and crimson irises.

Risai’s eyes flitted between Taiki and Gyousou once, then she straightened up. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is…”

“Risai-dono of the Jyuu Provincial Army,” Gyousou said with a chuckle.

Risai’s eyes widened slightly. “How—?”

“You appear unaware of your illustrious reputation.”

“I knew it,” Taiki blurted out, prompting both Risai and Gyousou to glance over at him. “Oh…sorry.”

“What did you mean by that?” Gyousou asked Taiki, looking amused.

“Well… I thought that Risai-dono had to be a great general. I kind of just figured…”

Risai looked at Gyousou, her face somewhat red. “The lord has a habit of flattering me.”

“Oh, come now.” Gyousou laughed. “He has a sharp eye. Indeed, the people rejoiced when Risai-dono joined the Jyou Provincial Army.”

“He is exaggerating, lord.”

At some point, Risai began to blush furiously, which made for an amusing sight. Gyousou could not help but chuckle at it too.

Seeing him up close and smiling, it was hard for Taiki to think of the man as such a terrifying person.

2

“SO WHAT BUSINESS DID YOU HAVE WITH KEITO?”Gyousou asked, looking at Taiki and Risai.

“The lord wishes to behold him,” said Risai.

“I have no objections, nor does Keito.” Gyousou pointed at the Suugu.

Taiki walked closer. What stood out to him about the Suugu, even more than its overall appearance, was its eyes. The colors were unbelievably rich and beautiful.

“Um… Did you happen to catch this Suugu yourself, Gyousou-dono?”

“Yes. I’ve no fondness for purchasing youjyuu.”

“How did you manage it? Isn’t it dangerous to catch a youjyuu?”

Gyousou’s lip abruptly curled upward. Taiki flinched slightly. For some unknown reason, Gyousou’s broad smile filled Taiki with dread.

“When we put shackles on wild beasts and turn them into mounts, we must pay the appropriate price, lest it be unfair.”

“Um… Right.”

Gyousou stroked Keito fondly. His intimidating smile swiftly disappeared. “I caught and tamed this Suugu. He and my sword are my treasures.”

Risai seemed surprised. “You trained him yourself?”

“With great effort. The trainer did a poor job, so Keito will not heed anyone but me,” Gyousou said with a small laugh before looking at Taiki. “Do not reach out your hand carelessly. Keito does listen well, but it is better to be safe than sorry.”

“Right,” Taiki said meekly.

“By the way…” Risai turned to Gyousou. “I heard that you received your sword from the previous king of Tai.”

“That I did.”

“It is a very famous sword, from what I hear.”

“Well, it is certainly capable of cutting things.” To Gyousou, that was all that mattered. A sword was a tool, not an ornament. Taking this thought to its logical conclusion, Taiki could not help but shrink up. As a military man, Gyousou carried this sword to block other swords trying to cut him—as well as to cut things himself.

“Then I suppose…you received it for your achievements?” Taiki asked tremblingly.

Gyousou shook his head. “Not for any military feat. Once, His Majesty requested that I duel the king of En.”

“Did you win?”

“I lost.” Gyousou laughed without a care in the world. “I won only one out of three matches. Nevertheless, His Majesty was delighted that I scored any points at all, and so he bequeathed the sword to me.” He paused, then added, “It is not for slaying people. That is why I regard it as a treasure.”

“I guess the king of En must be really strong, right?”

“If you would permit me to be blunt…” Once again, the smile so frightening to Taiki appeared on Gyousou’s face. “The man had a five-hundred-year head start. Equal the playing field, and I would not be bested.” The utterance betrayed a blindingly intense confidence.

Gyousou was not so frightening when he engaged in small talk, but every once in a while, he made a face that made Taiki flinch.

“I would like a Suugu too, you see…” Risai remarked, looking at Keito.

“I know a good hunting spot,” Gyousou responded casually. “I can take you there.”

“Is that all right with you?”

“My business has ended here as well. I was looking to pass the time until the Day of Safe Passage by searching for Suugu.”

“Even though you already have Keito?”

“If I had another Suugu, I could give Keito a rest for half the journey. Three is more than enough, but I would like two.”

“I understand how you feel. And you’re fine not keeping your hunting grounds a secret?”

“It would be poor sport to keep something like that hidden. The hunt is fair game for anyone.”

“There might be none left, given time.”

Gyousou smiled thinly. “What’s there to worry about? They will only be caught by a worthy master.”

Once they had parted ways with Gyousou, Taiki let out a deep sigh. He realized how horribly nervous he had been throughout that conversation.

“What’s the matter?” asked Risai.

“Nothing…”

Risai peered at Taiki’s face. “Are you afraid of Gyousou-dono?”

“You seem fine, Risai-dono.”

“I think he would make a formidable foe.” She paused. “Yes, he is the kind of person who makes others nervous, if I may speak frankly.”

“You too, then?”

“He possesses a frighteningly large aura. It is similar to how one might relax around what they believe is a dog, only to realize that it is actually a wolf.”

That encapsulated Taiki’s feelings perfectly. “You understand it well.”

Risai muttered, “He’s exactly as the rumors said. His aura is not that of an ordinary man… What a pity it is that he is not the king.”

“You really think so?” Taiki thought that Gyousou was altogether too frightening.

Risai nodded. “A good king is not necessarily someone with an agreeable personality. A ruler who is too softhearted or modest could lead their kingdom astray… Gyousou-dono would have been a fine choice.”

“Is that what you really think, Risai-dono?” Taiki looked up at her.

Risai responded with a self-effacing smile. “Now that I have met Gyousou-dono, I feel ashamed of myself for so brazenly attempting the Ascendance. He is far, far beyond my league.”

3

“IT APPEARS THAT THERE WAS NO RULER IN THIS Ascendance,” Youka said a month and a half after the summer solstice.

The aspiring monarchs did not all come in groups. Some of them climbed the mountain all by themselves without any form of company, while others traveled only with a single attendant. Those people arrived at Hoto Palace significantly later, almost as if they were an afterthought. However, even after accounting for the latecomers, the well of new faces had truly dried up.

“Oh, so does that mean I don’t have to go to Hoto Palace tomorrow?” asked Taiki.

Youka nodded as she arranged Taiki’s bed.

The moon shone high in the sky that night, and the insects gave brief, fleeting chirps. Sanshi silently dressed Taiki.

“Yes,” said Youka. “Let’s close the gate to the palace. That should tell everybody to stop hoping.”

“What happens after that?”

“Whatever you like. If you want to go outside and play, then by all means, go ahead.”

“I’m allowed?”

“I don’t mind. There will be other people around. You have Gyousou-dono and Risai-dono, don’t you? There should be nothing to worry about as long as they accompany you. You’ll have Sanshi as well.”

Ever since that day, Taiki found himself constantly crossing paths with Gyousou. After getting Risai’s permission to play with Hien, Taiki would visit Gyousou. It had become a habit at some point. As always, there were times when Taiki got the chills around him, but he was used to that feeling by now. At this point, he felt that it would be a waste not to interact with him when men were such a rare sight on Mount Hou.

“Um…” Taiki looked up at Youka with doe eyes. “Risai-dono and Gyousou-dono said they’re going to the Yellow Sea tomorrow to look for Suugu.”

Youka’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”

“I’m…not allowed to go with them…am I?”

Although Risai had invited him, he told her that the sage women were guaranteed to say no.

Youka exchanged glances with Teiei, who was standing in the corner of the room, before letting out a sigh.

“We’ll let you go just this once. It is rare for you to ask for something, after all. But you mustn’t let yourself get hurt, you hear? It would make our blood run cold.”

Taiki beamed. “Okay!”

In the early hours of the morning, when the sky seemed closer to midnight than daybreak, Taiki sprinted all the way from Hoto Palace to Risai’s tent. The world was still cloaked in darkness, and he could hardly see anybody around, but there were enough campfires for Taiki to navigate the area.

“Risai-dono!”

“Ah, my lord.”

As she fastened a saddle on Hien, Risai looked over her shoulder at Taiki.

Taiki also saw Gyousou there, already dressed in armor and pulling Keito by a lead. Risai, too, was in armor; it was Taiki’s first time seeing her in such garb.

When Risai spotted the sages behind Taiki, she bowed her head lightly.

“They said I could go,” Taiki explained.

Risai smiled. “That is good to hear.”

“Can I ride Hien?”

“Of course.”

Having finally caught up to the young Kirin, Teiei performed a neat bow. “Taiki is irreplaceable. I leave him in your care, Risai-dono, Gyousou-dono.”

Risai and Gyousou bowed deeply in return.

“I trust you both to take him out, so I expect that the lord will be in no danger even if the unexpected were to happen. I apologize for imposing, but I ask that you bring him back by noon.”

“That is fine by me,” Risai said.

Teiei nodded, then her eyes noted that the Tenba and Suugu were the only other living creatures in view. “You are not bringing any of your followers with you?”

“A round trip by midday would be impossible on horseback,” Risai said sheepishly.

Teiei frowned. The Yellow Sea was a genuinely dangerous area. Although the Five Great Mountains were shielded from threats, such was not the case for the Yellow Sea, home to countless youma. Youjyuu were obedient to their masters after capture and training, but the wild ones tended to attack humans.

That wasn’t even to mention the countless other threats lurking beyond the youma—namely quicksand, poisonous swamps, and mountains with an abundance of falling rocks.

“Can you promise that you will return the lord entirely unscathed?” Teiei asked.

Risai nodded deeply. “I vow that he will face no injury.”

“As much as we would like to accompany him, the sages cannot descend the Five Great Mountains without permission from Her Holiness. Be wary of danger. The lord’s safety must come first even while you are hunting. And you must take care to avoid bloodshed as well. Can you promise that?”

“Oh… Well, yes.”

Teiei continued, ignoring Risai’s perplexed expression. “If you absolutely must strike a youma with your sword, the other one of you must escape with the lord…even if that means leaving you behind.”

Taiki thought that this was a bit much. “Teiei…” He tugged lightly at Teiei’s sleeve, but then—

“This is not a pleasure jaunt.” It was Gyousou who spoke. That severe expression, so unique to him, crossed his face. “To hunt youjyuu, you cannot simply wander the edges of the Yellow Sea. One cannot minimize the danger. I invited him because I am confident that I can protect him. You may be sages of Mount Hou, but you stress your point too strongly. It is an insult.”

Teiei’s eyes cast Gyousou an imperious gaze. “You have a lot of confidence in yourself. Can you say that it is not arrogance?”

To this, Gyousou’s eyes responded with even greater intensity. “I am merely telling you not to worry. The lord is my kingdom’s Kirin. Do you believe that there is anyone who prays for the lord’s safety more deeply than the people of Tai? What if I said that was arrogance on your part?”

Their glares met only briefly before Teiei averted her gaze.

“True,” she said finally. “I did entrust him to you.”

“Indeed you did.”

As he watched Teiei walk away, Gyousou took the reins of his Suugu.

“The sun rises,” he said at length. “Let us go forth, Risai-dono.”

4

TAIKI WAS SURPRISED. FOR ALL THE TENBA’S swiftness, he felt barely any turbulence as a rider. When it jumped between rocks, dashed across flat terrain, or leaped over fallen trees, the sensation was so smooth that he could hardly imagine he was atop an animal’s back. Hien also appeared to have strong night vision, for he never dropped his speed, even in areas where the rocks and trees blocked the moonlight.

“How is it?” asked Risai, breaking the silence. She was hugging Taiki from behind as she gripped the reins.

Taiki looked back over his shoulder at her. “It’s like riding a Kirin.”

Risai’s eyes turned wide. “Have you ridden a Kirin before?”

“Yes.” Taiki hesitated. “Is that weird?”

Risai smiled sheepishly. “It is a most extraordinary thing to experience. Well, then, now I am embarrassed. I would never have imagined that Hien would be compared to a Kirin.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. Perhaps you attach less weight to Kirin because you are one yourself. The mere thought of riding a Kirin intimidates me greatly.”

“Oh, I see…” So that’s how it is, Taiki thought. Although he had felt bewildered at the idea of riding on Keiki’s back, knowing that he was a person, Taiki had not realized that it was a completely unusual thing to do.

“Just sharing a saddle with you is an extraordinary experience for me,” laughed Risai.

Looking up at her smiling face, Taiki tilted his head. He wondered if this was just how people felt about Kirin. He glanced to his side, looking for another opinion. Keito was running very close by, though Gyousou’s stern expression showed no indication that he had been listening in on the conversation.

Not for the first time, that frightening aura seemed to emanate from Gyousou. He must have been furious at Teiei’s words.

The elation Taiki felt from riding the Tenba immediately dissipated.

He knew he was the reason behind this man’s frightening mood.

Delving into the Yellow Sea, Hien and Keito dashed nimbly across the rocky terrain to the base of Mount Kou, the northern peak of the Five Great Mountains.

Gyousou went on ahead and dismounted from Keito near a hill of sharp, brutal-looking rocks. The moon was still out.

“Is this the place, Gyousou-dono?” Risai asked, stopping Hien.

Gyousou nodded wordlessly.

As Risai picked Taiki up from Hien’s back and put him down on the ground, Taiki kept his eyes on Gyousou’s face, observing him from the side. His aura had not softened one bit.

“Um…Gyousou-dono…”

“Yes, what is it?” Gyousou’s voice had a cold sense of detachment to it. He did not even look back at Taiki as he undid his saddle.

Taiki bowed his head toward Gyousou’s back. “I’m sorry about what the sage said to you…before.”

Gyousou’s hands stopped, and the man let out a sigh. The aura around him abruptly withered.

“It is nothing you need to apologize for.”

“No, um…I really do feel bad for you and Risai-dono.”

Risai laughed as she started a campfire in the shade of a rock. “Don’t worry about it. It is only understandable that the sages would fret over you.”

“No, you see,” said Taiki, looking between the two generals, “I’m a sick Kirin.”

Feeling both their gazes upon him, Taiki turned red.

“In a manner of speaking, I mean…” Earnestly, he searched for the right words. “The thing is, Teiei wasn’t looking down on either of you. She was worried about me because I’m not very dependable.”

Risai smiled gently. “You are an irreplaceable individual, my lord. You mustn’t think so poorly of yourself.”

Taiki shook his head. “No. The reason they worry about me is because I can’t do the things that other Kirin can do. I’m sure of it. You see, I…don’t have a Shirei.”

Gyousou and Risai’s eyes both widened. For a moment, they exchanged glances.

Given a Kirin’s aversion to blood, they could not take up weapons and fight. This was true whether they faced a youma or a wild animal. It was up to the Shirei to protect the Kirin in their stead, so it was common for a Kirin to have many of them at their disposal. Not having a Shirei meant that Taiki had no way of protecting himself.

“And that’s not all. I can’t transform either.”

Gyousou and Risai looked even more surprised by this.

“I’m supposed to have a lot of Shirei who can protect me, but I don’t. I’m supposed to be able to turn into my Kirin form and run if I’m in danger, but I can’t do that either.”

It was slightly embarrassing to admit his foibles. Taiki could not help but shrink up. “And that’s why the sages worry about me all the time. They even called over Kei’s Taiho to cure me.”

How much grief had he given the people around him? And yet they loved him so deeply in spite of it all. Just thinking about it made his heart ache.

“Taiho really did his best to teach me things, but I was still hopeless. And so—”

Gyousou’s large hand patted Taiki lightly on the head.

Looking up, Taiki saw that Gyousou’s gaze was gentle. This man, who could be so terribly frightening at times, was just as capable of kindness—enough to make Taiki’s mind go blank.

“We were never counting on your Shirei from the outset. You mustn’t fret.”

“Um…I do have a nyokai, at least.”

Gyousou smiled. “That is good to hear.”

His hand stroked Taiki’s head—it felt so much larger than Keiki’s.

For a moment, Taiki was lost for words.

“Okay,” he said.

5

“WHAT ARE YOU USING FOR BAIT?” TAIKI ASKED Risai as she set up traps.

“Precious stones. Suugu are particularly fond of agate.” Risai showed him an agate stone as large as a chicken’s egg.

“Whoa, do they eat these?” Taiki asked.

Risai laughed. “It is like catnip to them.”

“Ohh…”

Risai placed the agate in Taiki’s hand before turning to Gyousou. “I’ll lure them here.”

Risai climbed onto the Tenba.

“What do you have in mind?” Gyousou asked.

“I’ll go scatter agate shards,” Risai replied as she mounted Hien once more. “Gyousou-dono, I leave the lord to you.”

“Got it.”

With that, Hien took a giant leap, practically flying across the dirt. By this point, Taiki could see a tiny pinprick of light in the eastern sky.

Hunts were most effective at night. Apparently, youjyuu were less likely to roam about when the sun was up. Although it was not yet dawn, the hour was still less than ideal. The fact that they chose this time was a testament to how much the generals prioritized Taiki’s safety.

Gyousou tied a rope around a stake he had driven between the rocks. When he was done, he tapped his hand lightly, stood up, and walked over to Keito, who was sprawled out napping on a rock near the fire.

“Would you like to rest here, lord?” Gyousou asked Taiki.

“Yes.”

Gyousou leaned against Keito and pointed to his side. Taiki took that as his cue to sit down beside him.

“Do you think we’ll catch one?” Taiki asked.

“We’ll see. It depends on luck.”

“Did you catch Keito here?”

Gyousou nodded. “It was on my sixth time passing through on a Day of Safe Passage.”

“Was it tough?”

“Yes, to be frank. I had trouble setting up the traps.”

For a short while, Taiki let his mind wander, wondering how that complicated array of chains and ropes was supposed to work.

“Are you afraid of me, my lord?”

Taiki looked up at Gyousou, surprised at the sudden question.

“No… Um…”

“Sometimes, you recoil when you look at me. I was wondering if perhaps I have the smell of death upon me.”

“Not at all.”

“Then something about me must frighten a Kirin.” Gyousou grimaced slightly. “They say that Kirin are creatures of benevolence. It would seem that the benevolent find me repulsive.”

“That’s not—”

“I suppose this is what I should expect, being a military man. My profession is far from benevolent… My lord, if there is something you find deficient in me, I urge you to say it. I want to know what I lack.” Gyousou’s voice was barely above a whisper, melting inexorably into the night.

Taiki was flustered. “I, um, don’t think that’s the case.”

Gyousou cast Taiki an inquisitive look.

“I think that maybe, um… It has something to do…with the color of your eyes. They remind me of blood…”

“I appreciate your concern, but you needn’t hold back for my sake,” he said, quietly yet strongly.

Taiki returned Gyousou’s gaze. “I…can’t explain it well.”

“You can say anything. I do not mind.”

“I’m…pretty sure that I have a weak spirit. The sages are always telling me that my aura is lacking, and I should be more confident in myself, but this is just the way I am.”

Gyousou looked at Taiki, not saying anything.

“You are full of confidence, Gyousou-dono. I don’t really know what ‘aura’ actually is, but I’m sure that’s got to be your aura. There’s like, this…presence about you that makes you look strong.” Taiki hesitated. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Gyousou nodded.

“And that’s what makes me nervous. It’s a bit different from envy.” Taiki looked at the fire near Keito. “You know how fire can be warm and bright, but it’s scary when it’s too strong? I can’t help but shrink up in the same way… That’s what I think, at least.”

Not even Taiki himself could adequately explain what drove his fear.

“It’s not because I’m pathetic, and it’s different from the feeling I get when something’s about to get violent. And it’s not quite how I feel when I see blood either…”

However much he searched his vocabulary, nothing struck him as the right word. The frustration made him want to cry.

“It’s not a bad feeling, per se. Big fires can be scary, but also pretty, right? It’s like that. I think you’re amazing, but at the same time, I can’t help but shrink up, and so…”

The palm of Gyousou’s hand fell on Taiki’s head.

“Don’t cry.”

“Sorry…”

“I was the one who imposed. My apologies.”

“Oh, no…”

Gyousou smiled gently, stroking Taiki’s hair. “You are a good child, my lord.”

“No, that is… Um…”

“You are kind and sincere. You will be good for the Kingdom of Tai.”

“Do you really think so?”

Gyousou nodded. As he moved his hand from Taiki’s hair to his shoulder, his eyes flickered to the campfire.

Gyousou said nothing after that, so Taiki fell silent as well, shifting away from Keito and leaning on Gyousou instead.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

1

“GYOUSOU-DONO!”

Crackles of fire danced. Risai had returned, brandishing a torchlight. Riding on Hien’s back, she sped toward the rock landing. The eastern sky was finally beginning to turn white.

“Gyousou-dono, I have discovered a strange hole,” Risai said.

“A hole?” Gyousou stood up.

“It is near a swampland some short distance away. I spotted footprints going in and out of it, and I was wondering if perhaps it was a Suugu.”

“It could be a nest.”

“I suspect so.”

“Let’s go.”

Risai picked Taiki up and put him on Hien. Likewise, Gyousou mounted Keito.

The hole was in the corner of a swampland nestled between the rocks, filled with an indefinable mixture of dark-colored water and mud. A patch of overgrown, miserable-looking grass paved the ground quite some distance away from the water’s edge. Disembarking onto the grass, Taiki saw multiple sets of footprints leading up to the hole under the torchlight.

Gyousou stopped Keito and examined the Suugu’s fresh footprints. They were significantly smaller than the other set of tracks.

“It might not be a Suugu. But what is it, I wonder?” Risai said, dismounting Hien and peering into the hole.

The entrance loomed as large as Risai was tall, though it was less of a hole and more of an assembly of sizable rocks forming a tunnel in the gaps between them. The tunnel soon took a turn, making it impossible to see much further ahead.

“I dipped inside a short while ago, but it seems to go deep,” Risai said. “Shall we enter?”

“There might be a dragon,” Gyousou commented.

“Ah, right, that reminds me. There is a dragon palace at the bottom of the Yellow Sea,” Risai remarked.

Gyousou followed Risai’s gaze into the hole. “That’s what they say, but no one can speak to how true that is.”

“It does seem a little small for a pathway to the bottom of the sea.”

“What shall we do, then?” Gyousou asked slowly.

Risai seemed a little perplexed. “You aren’t going inside?”

Instead of answering her, Gyousou turned to look at Taiki. “What would you have usdo?”

“Um… I don’t know.”

“Then I suppose we can take a short look inside,” Gyousou said.

Risai already had her feet in the entrance. “I’ll scout ahead. I leave the lord to you, Gyousou-dono.”

“Very well.”

Seized by a light pinprick of anxiety, Taiki looked up at Gyousou. “Um…”

“Are you afraid?”

Taiki tried to shake his head but stopped. He answered honestly, “A little.”

“Is something the matter?”

Risai was already going around the corner.

“I’ll go after her,” Gyousou announced crisply. “My lord, do not leave my side.”

“Okay…”

It felt as if the winding path penetrated the ground beneath the rocky mountain itself. For every short increment they descended, they came across another twist in the tunnel. Although there was no wind, the flaming torches swayed—proof that air flowed through here. There was nothing in the way of branching pathways.

“What a long path,” Gyousou said, his voice echoing on end.

Risai, walking some distance ahead, stopped in her tracks. “There’s a dead end.”

She pointed at a small open area ahead. It was on a lower elevation than the tunnel they had been traversing—the drop was about Taiki’s full height.

Risai jumped down and surveyed the bumpy terrain.

“Strange,” she mused after a pause. “There’s nothing here.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Gyousou. “I can smell it faintly.”

Taiki frowned. He could smell the scent too—it was a foul odor indeed. Something about it gave him a vague sense of unease.

Risai went up and down the rocks across the floor before stooping over a rock jutting out from the wall. As he watched her back recede into the distance, one step at a time, a terrible sense of dread rolled down Taiki’s spine.

“Oh, there’s another hole that goes even further downward,” Risai said.

“That must be it.”

Holding Taiki in his arms, Gyousou jumped down the ledge. When he climbed up a rock, the hole Risai was peering at came into view.

And in that dark hole…

“Something’s…there,” Taiki muttered.

“What?” Gyousou and Risai both glanced over at Taiki.

A trembling sensation raced up Taiki’s legs. His pulse quickened. An ominous sensation clawed at him. “Let’s go back,” he said falteringly. “This feels…bad.”

“What’s the matter?”

Taiki pulled on Gyousou’s hand and reached out for Risai with the other. “You shouldn’t be in that spot.”

Risai exchanged glances with Gyousou before smiling and putting her hand on the hole’s rim. “I’m just looking to see what’s inside.”

“No,” Taiki insisted. “No, you shouldn’t.” He tried running over to Risai to stop her, but the moment he took a step, something emerged from the rocks to impede him.

“You mustn’t go there.”

“Sanshi!”

Gyousou put his hand on his sword’s hilt at the ninyou’s sudden appearance, but when Taiki himself put his arms around her, Gyousou’s grip slackened. He understood that this was the nyokai whom Taiki had mentioned.

Risai, too, gaped in surprise at the white ninyou’s entrance. With her hand still on the rock, she half turned her body toward Taiki.

That was the moment when something coiled around Risai’s arm.

She did not cry out. The scream belonged to the child in Gyousou’s proximity.

“Risai!”

Risai plunged headfirst into the hole, surprise written across her features. For a very brief moment, the sight of her floundering legs seared in Taiki’s vision. By the time he snapped to his senses, Risai was gone.

“Risai!”

Taiki’s wail was met with the echoes of a scream from inside the hole’s depths.

2

GYOUSOU SPRINTED ACROSS THE ROCKY LANDING—all the way up to the hole that had swallowed Risai. Judging by its dark depths, it appeared to be quite a steep drop.

“Gyousou-dono!” Taiki exclaimed.

“Sanshi, take the lord and run. Return to Mount Hou on Keito.”

Sanshi nodded at this, but Taiki was already scrambling toward Gyousou.

“Taiki, you mustn’t!” Sanshi leaped over to the sprinting child, stopping him with her arms.

“But Risai-dono is—!” Taiki pointed at the hole, only for Gyousou to stop him with his gaze.

“Leave Risai to me. Go outside, my lord.”

“I can’t!”

Instead of responding to Taiki’s shout, Gyousou jumped down the hole. Taiki slipped past Sanshi’s arms.

“Taiki!”

Taiki ran for the hole, almost stumbling from his sheer momentum. Swatting away Sanshi’s hand as she reached out for him, he leaped into the hole without a second thought.

Something told him that Gyousou was the one person he couldn’t let into the hole. This thought pounded in his brain like an absolute command.

It was a steep drop, but Sanshi circled ahead to catch him.

“Taiki.” She said his name firmly.

“No! I won’t run!”

Sanshi involuntarily retracted the hand she had been trying to place on Taiki’s body. For some reason, after that shout, she was unable to defy him.

What’s going on? she thought.

For a moment, Sanshi looked at her hand, forgetting about the situation entirely.

Although Taiki was Sanshi’s master, her priority right now was his safety above anything else. Her imperative was to take Taiki away from the danger—whatever it was—and leave, even if it meant ignoring his orders and adopting force.

And yet when she tried to stop Taiki, he dodged her arm so easily. Then, by pure instinct, she pulled her hand back; even now, it stayed in a retracted position. Why?

For his part, Taiki could not spare a moment to worry about Sanshi.

Inside the hole was a wide expanse that looked all too similar to a limestone cave. The torch in Gyousou’s hand served as the only source of light, making it impossible to determine the hole’s depth.

Taiki saw Gyousou’s back directly in front of him, his sword unsheathed. Not far from his feet lay Risai’s prone body.

And then there was the enormous, hulking shadow towering over her.

It looked like a mass of pure darkness. A part of it hung off its main body, resembling a sickle—and it moved straight for Risai.

“A Toutetsu!” The shriek belonged to Sanshi. How can this be? She fixed her eyes on the youma. Was it even appropriate to call it a mere youma? Not only did the ayakashi’s power surpass the bounds of convention, the fact that it was seldom ever seen made it a figment of legend.

Sanshi was helpless. No being in this world could hope to protect something from a Toutetsu.

Risai lifted her head—the only part of her body she could move. “Run, my lord!”

“I can’t!” Taiki shrieked.

Gyousou nudged Taiki. “You are necessary to Tai. You cannot die here!”

A scream rose from Taiki’s throat. “I cannot run!”

The looming sickle knocked Risai down, then struck Gyousou in the same motion, sending him flying to the side. When Gyousou collapsed on the ground, the Toutetsu scratched the top of his head before lifting its sickle even higher.

Taiki needed to stop it. He had to stop that terrifying weapon of destruction.

But how?

His body moved before his mind did. He performed the sword seal, making a sword-drawing motion.

“Rin, byou, tou, sha, kai, jin, retsu, zen, gyou!”

If I can just stop it…

The shadow halted in its tracks.

Then…what?

He tried the koushi—but he was trembling too much to brush his teeth together in the precise way.

Part of the darkness turned around to face him. A pair of eyes gleamed in the torchlight, close to the ground.

Their gazes met.

They looked at each other.

“Run,” he said, his eyes still locked with the figure in the darkness. How long could he hold out? “Sanshi, take Risai-dono.”

Sanshi gasped. “Taiki…”

“Do it!” Taiki commanded.

It’s happening again, Sanshi thought, grinding her teeth. She was physically unable to defy Taiki.

Sanshi darted toward Risai. She picked up the woman’s fallen, bleeding body and ran back toward the entrance of the hole, casting a quick glance at Taiki as she jumped outside.

“Gyousou-dono,” he said, quietly yet firmly, “you have to run now—while you have the chance.”

Gyousou was not in Taiki’s field of vision. He could not check whether he was injured. The two bloodred eyes before him consumed his entire focus.

“Please…!”

A low voice responded to him. “I cannot.”

Taiki did not have the mental resources to make another entreaty.

He was realizing for the first time that there was real weight in their gazes—the power to push and pull.

With the clash of these two powers, it felt like time itself within the cavern came to a standstill.

3

I’M SWEATING.

Taiki had no way of telling how much time had passed since the staring contest began. He could feel the sweat from his forehead running down to the bridge of his nose. He directed all of his focus toward taking light, steady breaths.

My forehead… At some point unknown to him, his brow had gotten itchy. Something hot and hard was lodged there. Was it really sweat making his face protest in pain?

My eyes…they’re already… He had lost his vision long ago. He was simply relying on his power to concentrate his gaze on where he thought the Toutetsu’s eyes were, pulling them toward him. He no longer even possessed the capacity to discern the power’s direction.

The time… How long had it been? This question had unconsciously bothered Taiki for a while now.

How much longer…will it take? He had no inkling why this thought tugged on him.

All of a sudden, he sensed a pull of resistance—as if something was impeding the power he was channeling forward. Sticking to him.

The time… Why was he so fixated on the time?

As the feeling of resistance grew, Taiki’s eyes turned wide.

He figured out why.

And at that precise moment of clarity, his forehead felt as if it were being torn apart. His breath caught in his throat—a violent, scorching sensation.

The Toutetsu’s gaze wavered. The sticky sensation intensified. Taiki’s power was no longer able to suppress his opponent. The dreaded moment was fast approaching…

When the time of seiki turned to shiki.

“Gyousou-dono…”

Was Gyousou here or not? If he was here, where was he?

“Run, please…”

Taiki knew one thing for sure: He could not hold out much longer.

A quiet voice sounded behind his back. “I’m afraid I cannot. My legs will not move.”

The young Kirin’s eyes turned wide. He was distracted—right when the hours of shiki began.

“I am wounded. I cannot move.” A sharp pause for breath, and then… “Save me!”

In an instant, Taiki’s withering aura ignited anew.

The deadlock resumed, the balance of powers even more precarious this time.

Sweat… It poured down his forehead.

There’s…no other way. Taiki could feel Gyousou’s presence. The man’s body did not move, but his gaze was fixed upon Taiki.

I have to catch the Toutetsu.

Gyousou was immobile. Likewise, Taiki stayed pinned to the spot.

I have to… The thought occurred to him for the first time. I have to make this Toutetsu submit to me.

All of a sudden, the darkness moved—Taiki sensed it. The pulling sensation wavered ever so slightly. It was the very smallest of openings.

Become my Shirei.

The Toutetsu’s power diminished further.

It was just a blink of a moment. In that single fraction of time in which he had the advantage, Taiki’s vision blurred from the sweat over his eyes.

He could see his opponent poised in a rigid stance, its deadly weapon still raised. Underneath the power of Taiki’s gaze, the darkness began to change shape. It trembled, withered, and warped into an enormous, solid mass—large enough to fill the cavern.

Taiki felt no fear. He had another opening. He felt as if his limbs had been freed of metallic restraints.

“Submit…”

The darkness condensed further, this time into the shape of an unreasonably large bull.

Then into a tiger.

Then an eagle.

Then a serpent.

It had a myriad of forms—a testament to its uncanny powers.

At long last, it took the form of a small dog sitting upright.

“Become my Shirei…”

Taiki’s hand, pointed toward the cavernous ceiling, received the will of the heavens. In an instant, the force that had been pushing against Taiki’s gaze dissipated. With all sense of resistance gone, something came bounding straight out of him. With the will of the heavens in his palms, Taiki felt an enormous power course through him, freed of its shackles.

“Convert the apparition, harmonize the forces of yin and yang.”

A deluge of sounds rushed from his palm and into his mind. Crashing. Twisting. Roaring. Thundering. A maelstrom of cacophony swirled in his head, forming fragments of a picture.

A person. Playing. Leaving. Wind. A flag, fluttering. A whip, cracking, striking. Water—flowing.

“Follow the command at once!” Pure intuition moved Taiki’s lips. “Desist! Gouran!”

The dog stood up. Although its form was hazy, Taiki thought that it looked like a shiba inu. The darkness shrank further with each step it took in Taiki’s direction, until a coat of brown fur eventually came into view.

It would be nice if it were a puppy, Taiki thought. Brown, but with white paws…

And the being transformed into exactly that.

When it came to Taiki’s feet, it sat upright once more. By now, it looked hardly any different from any shiba inu of Taiki’s former country.

“Gouran,” Taiki murmured, crouching.

The pup looked up at Taiki as it wagged its tail. Taiki reached out his hand, and a warm tongue licked his fingers.

Taiki picked up the puppy and held it in his arms. Only then did the strength in his legs give way, and he sat upon the floor.

4

“I CAN’T…BELIEVE IT.”

In that moment, it truly hit him that he was not human. Not human, not animal, but something else. A part of an unfathomably great power.

I’m not human. He was a Kirin—he understood that now for certain. I wasn’t human after all…

He felt in his very bones what it meantto be the creature known as a Kirin. Being part of the heavens, they comprehended its will and were capable of manifesting it in a tangible form.

Before, confusion had reigned within him. Some part of him had never believed that he was anything other than himself. At last, he understood—what he perceived as “himself” was but the framework for a creature that far surpassed those boundaries. This creature possessed a direct link to the heavens, channeling vast power into his meager shell of a body.

“I, too, am in disbelief…” A raspy voice rang out abruptly, finally snapping Taiki back to his senses. He remembered that he was not the only person here.

Hurriedly, Taiki turned around and saw Gyousou sitting between the rocks with a dazed expression. “To think that there was a Kirin capable of apprehending a Toutetsu…”

Taiki stood up on his wobbly legs. They trembled so much that just walking in a straight line was a trial.

“How are you?” Gyousou asked. “Are you injured?”

“No…”

Holding Gouran in his arms, Taiki plopped himself down next to Gyousou. Stooping his body, he brought his head close so that he could check the severity of Gyousou’s wounds. The torchlight had already run out, but while the vicinity was dark, it was not pitch-black. Light appeared to spill through the cracks between the rocks.

Gyousou’s body showed no blemishes.

“Are you hurt? Is anything broken?” Taiki looked up at Gyousou, who shook his head.

“Nothing is broken. I am not injured anywhere.”

Gyousou’s bloodred eyes brewed with emotion. Then, he said, “I apologize for uttering a falsehood.”

Taiki tilted his head in confusion; then, the meaning of Gyousou’s words dawned on him. “Gyousou-dono…”

When Taiki had urged Gyousou to run, Gyousou realized something—that to move would be a mistake. It would cause Taiki’s concentration to waver, and that single moment would decide the showdown. Gyousou could not give the Kirin a moment to relax his concentration when he was so entirely focused on holding the Toutetsu at bay.

And so Gyousou refused to budge. He understood beyond a shadow of doubt that distracting the Kirin was the worst thing to do. Instead, he sat very still, stifling his presence, and simply gazed upon Taiki.

As he silently watched the young boy subdue the legendary youma through some inscrutable means, Gyousou came to understand what Taiki called “aura.” What else could one call this unseen thing that filled the cavern completely? This was probably that same feeling Taiki had described about him.

Gyousou found himself afraid of the child in front of him, an involuntary sensation that surprised even himself. “Thank you very much for saving me.”

“Oh, no.” Taiki shook his head.

If Taiki had not been covering Gyousou, Gouran’s aura would probably have devoured Taiki. On the other hand, Gyousou would have perished alongside him if Taiki’s spirit had flagged. It took considerable nerve to simply sit still without attempting to run or move. Taiki had to marvel at it.

“I should be the one thanking you… Gyousou-dono, you’re incredible…”

“You should be directing those words at yourself.” Gyousou smiled as he ruffled Taiki’s sweat-drenched hair. “You did well… I see that Tai has a good Kirin to its name.”

Taiki looked up at the man, meeting his gentle gaze.

I’m a Kirin, no two ways about it…

There was true, genuine kindness in the hand that stroked him. However, Gyousou’s show of appreciation only made Taiki feel as though there was a gaping hole in his chest.

Then that means…Gyousou-dono is definitely not the king.

5

“MY GOODNESS, WHAT HAPPENED?”

Teiei bit her nails hard. Youka stood next to her, her face long since devoid of color.

“Risai-dono is still out cold!”

Risai’s attendants were all beside themselves in a panic.

At the crack of dawn, the ninyou returned with an injured, unconscious Risai in her arms. Then, after putting Risai down, said ninyou ran off without a word of explanation.

If that wasn’t enough to confound the attendants, the sage women added fuel to the fire with their laundry list of complaints. Their master—normally the voice of reason in situations like these—was still no closer to waking, even as evening approached.

“We sent Taiki out with Risai-dono because we trusted her, but look at this! How can she return while Taiki is still nowhere to be seen?”

The attendants couldn’t say anything to that. All they could do was prostrate themselves at the sages’ feet.

“Suppose this is the absolute worst-case scenario. You and that woman will have to pay with your lives.”

Just as the sages began to get carried away by the flames of self-righteous anger, a sudden commotion resounded outside.

“What’s going on?” Teiei asked, looking around.

One of the sages pointed in the distance. “Teiei! That’s…a Suugu!”

Teiei gasped. “Gyousou-dono!”

She saw a Suugu dashing toward her, its fur sparkling in the sunlight and its long tail trailing like a whip.

A Tenba followed behind it. One of Risai’s followers shouted, “Hien!”

The two beasts leaped right over a nearby tent and landed soundlessly near the crowd. When the Suugu’s riders—Gyousou and the small boy in his arms—came into view, a round of cheers rang out.

“Gyousou!” Teiei waded through the crowd and sprinted for the Suugu. “Explain yourself! What is going o—?!”

Gyousou shushed her mid-shout.

“Taiki—”

“Is asleep. I ask that you do not wake him,” Gyousou said softly.

Teiei crept closer. The boy was sleeping soundly in Gyousou’s arms, showing no hint of dreadful injury, or even any particular signs of duress.

Only then did the tension escape Teiei. “He is…unharmed…”

Gyousou dismounted, still holding Taiki. “Allow me to take him back to the palace, if you don’t mind.”

“Before that, I need to ask you what happened. You may not get off lightly depending on the answer.”

Gyousou laughed. “The lord has merely worn himself out. He fell asleep as soon as he got on Keito.”

“And your tardiness?” Teiei asked sharply. “You promised that you would return by noon. Don’t wriggle your way out of this.”

“My apologies. May I take him back to the palace? I cannot bear to wake him. I’ll explain on the way.”

There seemed to be an implication in his words, prompting Teiei to look around her surroundings. Noticing the crowd watching in interest, she quickly mustered a nod.

“Right. Please do.”

Teiei told the sages to head for the gates, leading the way for them.

After ushering Gyousou toward Houro Palace and beginning the trek through the labyrinth, she said, “Now, then. Explain.”

“He needed the time to carry out the conversion.”

Teiei’s eyes turned wide as saucers. Youka and the other sages behind her immediately buzzed with excitement.

“Taiki was converting a youma?”

“The lord told me himself that he had no Shirei,” Gyousou said.

“Indeed…that is so. About that—”

“I will tell no one, naturally. I could not bear for others to look down upon Tai. Besides, the lord has already rectified that issue.”

Teiei’s eyes flitted between the smiling man and the sleeping boy. “You mean…?”

“He did a magnificent job bringing a Shirei under his wing. He stared the youma down before dawn.”

Teiei sighed deeply—her relief had many layers. “So…that’s what happened. I jumped to conclusions and spoke wrongly to you. My apologies.”

“I’m not offended.” Gyousou laughed.

Teiei’s eyes went to the boy in his arms. His sleeping face had a slightly unhealthy pallor, perhaps because of his sheer exhaustion. Not that this was a big deal—a good rest would probably restore him.

If he had successfully converted a youma, then transforming was certainly within his power as well. This meant that the lord of Mount Hou was rid of all his malaises. If he had no insecurities left, then there was no further need to speak words of comfort as a stopgap measure.

Teiei murmured, “I’m so glad…”

“He is worthy of his name as a black Kirin.” Gyousou added, “He subdued a Toutetsu.”

For a moment, Teiei stared back at Gyousou. “What did you just say?”

“I said that he made a Toutetsu into his Shirei.”

“Don’t be ridiculous…”

Gasps resounded among the sages, hardly indistinguishable from shrieks. It was the natural reaction—no Toutetsu had ever become a Shirei. They were not the kind of youma a Kirin could easily convert.

“I was surprised too.” Gyousou’s gaze dropped to the child in his arms. Taiki must have been in a deep sleep, because his entire body up to the tips of his eyelashes was deathly still. “Even if his divination skills happened to work well on this occasion, it is clear that he is no ordinary Kirin… I fear for the future.”

“Excuse me?”

“I apologize if I caused offense—I mean no ill intent. I was merely expressing my worry about what he might do unconsciously, given his superlative powers.”

Teiei frowned again.

“I suppose this may be a good opportunity for him to gain confidence in himself,” Gyousou went on. “My impression is that he exerted his power in his desperation to protect me. I see the danger if he is unmotivated in the absence of something to protect.”

“Right…”

“For someone in possession of such an abundance of power, his aura is very subdued. I wonder if it is because of his lack of self-confidence, or perhaps something else entirely… Either way, his future growth is both promising and worrying.”

“There is nothing for you to worry about,” Teiei said.

“I can only hope that is true… Perhaps it is impermissible for me to say this as a citizen of Tai, but I think that it is best for the lord to remain on Mount Hou for as long as possible, for his own sake.”

Teiei stared hard at Gyousou. This man understood the Way. His insight was so keen, in fact, that it was a pity that he lacked the divine right of kings.

Gyousou glanced at the child in his arms. “But I must say, he is a magnificent Kirin… What a pity.”

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

1

“HOW ARE YOU DOING, RISAI-DONO?”

When Taiki peered inside the tent, Risai sat up for him.

“My lord…”

The tent was by no means luxurious, given that Risai’s attendants packed as little as possible for a long journey. The interior was also extremely bare bones, containing only the most basic of essentials. A thin, light cloth was draped inside, enough to give the owner some privacy. Then again, it was all that was needed, considering the fair weather on Mount Hou. In that sense, it was a fairly large tent.

Risai got up from her simple bed, pulled a jacket toward herself, and put it over her body.

Taiki tried to stop her. “Oh, please don’t get up,” he said, handing a cup of water to an attendant inside the tent. “The sages sent me down here today—have this.”

Risai adjusted her clothing just enough to be presentable before bowing her head graciously. “Thank you very much.”

The attendant encouraged Taiki to come further inside. Taiki sat down near Risai and peered at her face. “How are your injuries?”

“My pain has gone away entirely, thanks to the sage water.”

Taiki sighed. “That’s good to hear.” He cocked his head. “I hope they don’t leave scars.”

Risai laughed. “Please don’t worry on my part. I’ve had the sage water, and I myself am a humble sage, so even a formidable-looking injury is perfectly manageable.”

Taiki blinked in confusion at Risai. “You’re a sage, Risai-dono?”

“Being a general, even one for a provincial army, I was inducted into sagehood. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to serve the lord.”

“Why’s that?”

It was Risai’s turn to be surprised. “You aren’t aware? The provincial lords are also sages. Nobody can enter a lord’s palace unless they are a sage, and because the lords live such long lives, anyone who serves closely at their side cannot be an ordinary person either.”

“Huh…”

Taiki’s genuine puzzlement astonished Risai. She had heard that this Kirin lived in Hourai until very recently—were there no sages in Hourai?

“The divine sages have infinite lifespans,” she said.

“Is that how it works?”

Risai sighed lightly. “You’re one of them too, my lord. Did you know that?”

“Wait, so I’m immortal too?” Taiki remarked.

“You are. The kings and queens are part of the Divine Registry, so when anyone becomes monarch, they stop aging and will no longer die of ordinary means. At least, they will not perish from illness or any such thing.”

“Oh, I see.”

“The Kirin, too, are creatures of the gods. Like the monarchs, they do not age or suffer from common illness. Their bodies are also sturdy against injuries, which means that they are seldom killed. On the other hand, Kirin are susceptible to a unique illness.”

Taiki’s eyes sprang wide from this, and for a moment, he appeared to contemplate something. “Okay, so am I going to be this age forever?”

“I have heard that you will stop aging once you reach adulthood.”

“That…seems kind of weird…”

“The sage women also don’t age or fall ill, so they can devote themselves entirely to your education. Anyway, that’s how it works.”

“Huh.”

“The monarchs appoint the sages. Generally speaking, their close attendants, the provincial lords, and their retainers are all sages.”

“I guess that makes sense. It would be weird if only the ruler had a long lifespan.”

Risai smiled sheepishly. “Who can say? I don’t know the reasoning behind it.” She paused, then continued, “Likewise, the sages do not die of natural causes—but that only applies to the period of time in which they are sages. Unlike those who are part of the Divine Registry, people can come and go from the throngs of sagehood. Those who become sages can also stop being sages.”

“If you stop being a sage, will you start aging normally again?”

“That’s right, although hardly anyone quits out of their own volition. For example, I was inducted into sagehood when I was graciously allowed the position of general. If I were to quit this role or be made to step down, then I would have to leave the sagehood as well. Those who are granted provisional sagehood to work for their liege are called earthly immortals.”

“Oh, I see…”

“There are other sages who don’t fall into that category, like those who take the vow of sagehood by themselves or those who are appointed by a monarch yet don’t serve them. They are called flying immortals. The sage women of Mount Hou are flying immortals.”

“That makes sense…” Taiki said with a sigh. “Once, I asked Teiei how old she was, and she said she didn’t know. Maybe she lived such a long time that she really doesn’t remember anymore.”

“Perhaps so.” Risai chuckled lightly. “In any case, you needn’t worry too much about my condition. I am sturdier than most.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“But that’s enough about me. How are you faring, my lord? Have you recovered?”

“Yep, I’m all good. I was just tired and a bit startled from seeing blood. I really wanted to come visit you sooner, but the sage women wouldn’t let me outside the palace.”

“I…can’t apologize enough.”

Taiki peered at Risai’s shamed expression. “It wasn’t your fault. It all happened because I’m a Kirin.”

“Oh, no…”

Risai shook her head, though she did not elaborate.

She had underestimated the Yellow Sea. It had escaped her mind that the youma living there were far stronger than a person of her caliber could handle. She had rashly believed that she could cut down even the strongest among them, which led to her lapse in vigilance.

And she couldn’t deny that part of it was because Gyousou was there, a fellow general. A stubborn part of her wanted him to see her as a dauntless person who could knowingly and unflinchingly walk into the jaws of danger.

“I’m truly sorry,” she said.

“Um… It really wasn’t your fault, Risai-dono. Nobody knew that a Toutetsu was in a place like that. Besides, you put yourself in danger so that I could escape. It was because you shielded me that I was able to make that Toutetsu my Shirei,” Taiki insisted heatedly.

Risai gazed back at the fervent child. “You are too kind, my lord.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

Risai smiled at his serious expression. “Anyway, allow me to thank you for the sage water. I should be fit to descend the mountain on the day of the equinox.”

Taiki’s eyes widened slightly.

“You’re…going down the mountain…”

It should have been obvious when he thought about it. Risai did not live on Mount Hou like the sage women did. On the next Day of Safe Passage, the fall equinox, the Reison Gate in the southeast corner of the Yellow Sea would open.

Counting backward, Taiki realized that Risai would only be on Mount Hou for another half month.

And that meant…

Taiki left Risai’s tent and gave perfunctory responses to everyone who called out to him as he walked along, when his feet came to a halt.

That meant…

2

“IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?”

It was Gyousou who snapped Taiki back to his senses with the firm feeling of his hand against Taiki’s shoulder. Apparently, Taiki had been walking the usual path without even thinking.

“Oh… Gyousou-dono.”

Taiki’s thoughts continued on the same track: Gyousou, too, would only be here for so long. The very idea of it shook him terribly. Risai—and Gyousou—would leave the mountain the way they came.

Embarrassed by how his mind had wandered, Taiki forced a smile, which was swiftly eclipsed by a frown at the sight of Gyousou’s black armor. Gyousou had worn it when they first met on Mount Hou, and again on the day they went hunting for a Suugu. He had not worn it on any other occasion.

“Has your health recovered?” asked Gyousou.

“Mm-hmm,” Taiki mumbled.

“Is something wrong? You look uneasy.”

For a moment, Taiki hesitated. Then, a sigh escaped his lips. “I was thinking that there’s only one month left until the fall equinox…”

Gyousou nodded in understanding. “It is time for people to make their descent. There are discussions at the moment on which day to leave. Those who lack confidence in their skills will be relying on strength of numbers.”

“I see,” Taiki said, his eyes taking in Gyousou’s appearance once more. “Has something happened? You’re all suited up.”

“Oh, this is…” Gyousou cut himself off mid-sentence. He knelt in front of Taiki. “I count myself fortunate that our paths crossed. I will be descending the mountain today.”

“Huh…?”

Taiki gazed back at Gyousou vacantly. He felt as if his blood ran cold—Gyousou’s words shook him that deeply.

“I was just about to say my farewells to Risai-dono,” Gyousou went on.

“Today…?”

Gyousou smiled nonchalantly. “Yes. As I intend to search for a Suugu on the road, numerous other people have asked to accompany me… I thought that perhaps I would miss my opportunity to say my goodbyes to you. I am glad I saw you.”

Looking around, Taiki saw that Gyousou’s tent was already gone. So, too, was the stake to which his mount had been tethered. The ground was perfectly level now.

“But it’s so early…”

“I have horses traveling with me this time. If we don’t leave now, we won’t reach the Yellow Sea by nightfall.”

“But the Yellow Sea is dangerous at night.”

Gyousou laughed as he stood up. “The Suugu are nocturnal. If we are to hunt them, then we must travel at night.”

That’s dangerous, Taiki thought, but he swiftly remembered that Gyousou was a veteran Suugu hunter. The man had ventured into the Yellow Sea for such purposes on multiple occasions. It was how he had managed to catch Keito.

“You haven’t given up, I see,” Taiki finally managed to say.

“I have not.”

“So will you travel the Yellow Sea again on another Day of Safe Passage…?”

“Perhaps. If I fail to catch a Suugu on the way back.”

Taiki wavered on what to say. Eventually, he blurted out, “Then will you stop by Mount Hou again?”

Gyousou met Taiki’s eyes briefly before responding, “That I cannot oblige. The Ascendance of Mount Hou can only be attempted once.” As he spoke, his lips curled into a chiding smile. “Not to mention that it is impossible to make a round trip to and from Mount Hou within the span of a Day of Safe Passage.”

It was the obvious, no-brainer reply. However fleeting Keito’s steps were, it was no simple matter going to and from the inner depths of the Yellow Sea. If Gyousou dashed through the gate the moment it opened at noon and hunted through the night, then the gates would be closing just as he returned, even if he ran back at full speed.

Taiki tried a different tack. “But do you suppose we can meet again, seeing as you are a general of the Royal Army?”

He looked up at Gyousou, just barely managing a smile, to which Gyousou responded with a grimace. “Sadly…”

“Huh?”

“I have no intention of returning to the Royal Army. My plan is to renounce my sagehood and leave Tai,” Gyousou said.

Taiki’s hands unconsciously clenched into fists. “But…why?”

“It is hard for me to accept failure.”

Taiki’s eyes widened, then fell to his feet.

“I am not blaming you in particular, lord. It is not your fault that I lack the qualities of a king.”

“But—”

“Worry not. There are kingdoms that would call a man of my odd talents useful. I am a warrior at heart. Being set in my ways, I would make a laughable merchant now.”

Taiki looked up at Gyousou. “Then we won’t see each other again,” he said slowly.

“I suspect so.”

Throughout all of this, a smile remained on Gyousou’s face.

He doesn’t mind one bit that we’ll never see each other again, thought Taiki. If Taiki had slept in, Gyousou would have gone down the mountain without so much as a goodbye.

“How much can you hunt? Surely you have plenty of days left…until the equinox?” Taiki mustered, to which Gyousou smiled wryly.

“My pride does not permit that. I was not chosen, and I refuse to outstay my welcome,” he said, patting Taiki lightly on the head with his large hand. “Come now, my lord, do not look so sad. You have nothing to worry about. This was a humbling experience for a conceited man like me, and now I shall strive to do better.”

Gyousou smiled at Taiki. Taiki tried to smile back but couldn’t.

A man called out to Gyousou by his name. At that point, Gyousou raised his arm and responded.

Before he left, he turned and bowed toward Taiki. “I shall say my farewells to Risai-dono now.”

“I see…”

In the short span of time it took for Gyousou to visit Risai’s tent and return, Taiki stood rooted to the spot, feeling as if he had swallowed a rock.

“Please take care. I hope that your reign is without trouble,” Gyousou said as he stood next to Keito.

These were parting words. If Taiki nodded here, then Gyousou would take the reins, mount the Suugu, and leave—never for them to meet again. Just the thought of it hurt unbearably, yet Taiki had no way of stopping him.

“I shall take my leave.” Gyousou bowed and turned away, showing Taiki his back.

Taiki wondered if Gyousou would turn around to look at him one last time. He hoped for it, but something told him that Gyousou would never do that. Risai would have been unable to bring herself to reject a clinging child out of hand. She would have extended her stay, remaining at Mount Hou until the very last minute before the Day of Safe Passage.

Not Gyousou, however—it was not in his character.

Gyousou mounted Keito. He waited for his companions to say their farewells to Taiki too, and then he began to move. With slow and deliberate steps, keeping pace with the horses, Keito disappeared into the distance.

Taiki’s eyes remained fixed on Gyousou’s receding form throughout it all, yet the man showed no hint of sentimentality—as if he did not feel the Kirin’s gaze at all.

3

THE MOON WAS OUT, ITS LIGHT SEEPING THROUGH the thin curtain and even into the bed.

Gyousou’s group had already reached the foot of Mount Hou. Taiki wondered if they were braving the dangers of camping outdoors. Or perhaps they were planning on hunting for Suugu all through the night, only setting up camp at dawn.

“You can’t sleep?” Sanshi asked him. Realizing that he was unconsciously stroking her fur, Taiki stopped. “Risai-dono will be around a little longer.”

“I know…” This knowledge did not comfort Taiki one bit.

After tossing and turning in the bed, he eventually decided that he could bear it no longer. He sat up and said, “Am I…allowed to take a walk?”

“Not at night. Not to the Yellow Sea at night.”

She had seen right through him. Taiki hung his head. “Then it’s dangerous for them to travel.”

“I would expect so.”

They might encounter another youma on the Toutetsu’s level. Taiki was aware that many people perished on the journey through the Yellow Sea, and to make matters worse, Gyousou’s group was few in number.

“Gouran.”

“What is it?”A voice resounded from beneath the bed.

Gouran’s voice was low and deep. Although he took on the form of a small dog at the very beginning, lately he tended to appear as a large red dog unless Taiki expressly asked otherwise.

“Could you take Gyousou-dono to the Reison Gate? For their safety.”

“I cannot.” The reply was immediate. “I cannot leave your side.”

“Not even when I ask you to…?”

“Your safety is more important than any other at present. It would be a different story if Gyousou were the king.”

Not again, Taiki thought, biting his lip.

There was not a single thing Taiki could do to stop Gyousou. Nothing he did could make the man break his resolve and look back. And nothing within Taiki’s power could ensure he made it safely to the four gates. If only Gyousou was the king. If only…

Taiki wondered why he had received no divine revelation. It would have made everything so much simpler.

It’s… Just as he felt like he wanted to cry, a thought slid into Taiki’s mind. It’s a feeling…that only a Kirin would know.

Taiki’s eyes sprang open wide, and he hurriedly scrunched them shut. His heart pounded wildly.

Why?

The pain of being separated from Gyousou surprised him so much that he had to ask himself the reason. He adored Risai. He thought that she would make a fine queen. And yet the knowledge that she would descend the mountain did not cause Taiki this level of misery.

Dejected, he sat up. He could not bear to lie down any longer. It felt as if something was pressing against him, affording him no room to breathe.

“Taiki…”

“I’m just going outside for a bit.”

Still in his nightclothes, Taiki let his feet carry him to the stone steps of the palace. He sat down, his mind still wandering.

Although only one road reached the bottom of Mount Hou, all bets were off once Gyousou entered the sprawling Yellow Sea. And to make matters even more complicated, Gyousou’s party planned to hunt for mounts as they traveled, which would take them off the beaten track. Once they were in the Yellow Sea proper, they would be difficult to find.

Gyousou would cross the perilous Yellow Sea and arrive at the gate. There, he would wait for the Day of Safe Passage and leave via the Vajra Mountains. By then, it would be well and truly impossible to pursue him.

Once he returned to Tai, Gyousou would quit the Royal Army and leave the kingdom. Would Taiki have any way of knowing where he would go next or any means of keeping track of his whereabouts?

Even if he did…

Taiki did not choose Gyousou. Gyousou was leaving Tai. That being the case, Taiki was nothing more than a ten-year-old boy with no worth to Gyousou whatsoever. Given how fearlessly the man carved his own fate, he would never be tempted to look back at something that had no worth to him.

Their separation would be almost as final as death.

As soon as he left Mount Hou, Gyousou would forget Taiki. The connection they built over a matter of days was a flimsy one, doomed to severance the moment those gates opened and shut.

Taiki stood up.

4

“TAIKI.”

When she saw the despondent Taiki abruptly climb to his feet, Sanshi hurriedly reached her arms out for him. When he broke out into a sprint, she caught him, pinning him in her embrace.

“You mustn’t. The night—” There was no comparison to midday or early morning. The hour had just turned to seiki, and the youma would only become more active as the night wore on. “No, Taiki…!”

Taiki slipped out of Sanshi’s hold.

However much he tried, he couldn’t bear it. The very thought of parting ways with Gyousou filled him with more pain than he could withstand.

“What’s the matter, Sanshi?”

Youka poked her head out from the Rosen Pavilion. Several sage women stood behind her, watching on in suspicion.

The sages, Sanshi, and Gouran—no matter which way Taiki ran, they would catch him. Yet this knowledge did nothing to deter him; it merely spurred him on.

Sanshi leaped for the fleeing child, cutting off the path in front of him. She simply could not allow him to venture into the Yellow Sea at night.

Between Risai’s wounds and Gouran’s blood-soaked aura, Taiki had been rendered so exhausted that he slept for a very long time. He had only just finally regained the strength to venture outside. The depletion of his physical stamina also meant a drop in the power of his ki. It would be nigh impossible for him to convert a youma if he encountered one now.

At the same time, a Shirei’s strength weakened alongside their master. Sanshi and Gouran were already bonded closely enough to Taiki to be affected. Sanshi knew that better than anybody. Although Taiki could manage against a small youma, a youma of Gouran’s might would not let Taiki out of its sights.

Seized by desperation, Sanshi sprang forward to catch the runaway in her arms…

“Taiki!”

Only for him to dodge her.

Sanshi looked at her hands as they grasped air. She thought for sure that she had caught him.

Slightly bewildered, she spun around promptly and reached out again—only to catch yet more air. The child simply scrambled about without a plan, and yet she couldn’t secure him.

It’s happening again, thought Sanshi, gazing in wonderment.

The same thing happened when Taiki caught Gouran. It was as if Sanshi had been ensnared in some kind of trap, rendering her physically incapable of securing Taiki. Why?

He was supposed to be a small, powerless Kirin who was only just beginning to awaken to his power.

“Gouran!” Sanshi cried.

The beast sprang from behind a rock and attempted to block Taiki’s way, yet though he filled up the entirety of the small path, Taiki managed to slip past him through some kind of magic.

Sanshi tried to leap in front of the boy one more time, but he avoided her arms as they tried to encircle him. She just barely managed to get her hands on him only for him to slip out again. Finally, she grabbed hold of his clothing.

“Taiki, I beg of you, the night—”

Sanshi did not finish her sentence. The sages, who were sprinting in their direction, also stopped in their tracks, mouths agape.

Sanshi stopped feeling anything through the sleeves of Taiki’s clothing. Her hands grasped the fabric, but there was nothing inside.

“Ahh!”

She gasped, her eyes darting in the same direction as the sages’—up.

Under the moonlight, the rocks looked black, and so did their shadows. Only the lines of the mountain ridge gleamed very slightly silver.

And between those rocks, they saw it.

A beast dashing through the night sky, its form exuding a phosphorescent light.

“Taiki…”

His mane, which was still on the short end, was the color of steel. His back was black with flecks of silver and mica, and his limbs and head were darker than the midnight sky.

A short pearly horn protruded from his forehead.

I must chase him.

Sanshi’s hands clenched Taiki’s discarded clothing.

Unfortunately for her, nothing in this world could catch up to a Kirin galloping at full speed.

5

THE ONLY THOUGHT ON TAIKI’S MIND WAS TO RUN.

As he dodged Gouran and slipped past Sanshi’s arms, intent only on sprinting as fast as he could, his body suddenly felt light. Encouraged by this, he ran a few more steps, and before he knew it, he was suspended in the air.

It took him three more steps to realize that he had transformed. By the time he looked back, the Rosen Pavilion was far off in the distance.

Nothing felt painful or amiss. His limbs moved according to his wishes, racing further onward.

In three strides, he arrived at Hoto Palace. The torches lit by those who had carried out the Ascendance left a dim trail into the distance.

The Suugu was the first to notice.

Gyousou cast his eyes on his mount. His hands stopped in the middle of adjusting the saddle. His plan was to go hunting while the moon was out, but now…

“What’s the matter?”

The Suugu looked up at the sky and let out a low, throaty noise.

At first, Gyousou thought that a youma was ambushing them, but then it occurred to him that there was no tension in the Suugu’s demeanor. Frowning, he followed the Suugu’s gaze, and that was when he saw it—the beast dashing toward him with the moon at its back. It moved with a supremely, enchantingly graceful form.

A black Kirin.

Even as he was filled with wonderment, a lingering feeling of regret reared its head. He could not abide his own unwillingness to leave the Kirin behind, and so he pushed himself to descend the mountain as quickly as possible.

Gyousou’s companions stirred and shouted as they gazed up at the sky in unison. The Kirin pulled back its glowing tail and landed on a rock gazing down upon the campsite, which was situated in a hollow surrounded by shrubs and rocks. Inside a ring of five illuminated torches, people stared up at the sky in dazed confusion next to their tents and horses.

“What a magnificent Kirin…” Gyousou was the first to speak. He uttered the words with a smile on his lips before putting the saddle down on the ground. “What brings you here, my lord? Did you come to see us off?”

Taiki hesitated, then got off the rock and walked into the hollow. He knew the offense he was attempting to commit.

“So you’ve managed to transform,” Gyousou said. His manner of speaking now was more blunt and to the point than it had been on Mount Hou. “I’m happy for you. But as delighted as I am to witness such a rare sight, this is not like you.”

There was nothing Taiki could say to that.

“You may have a Shirei now, but you are still putting yourself too much at risk. You should go back to the palace.”

When he saw that Taiki would not move, Gyousou pulled a Hou robe out of his bags.

“Or perhaps you have some other reason for coming here?”

When Gyousou spread the Hou across Taiki, the Kirin undid his beast form. He already had a vague idea of how to return to being human, and it required no effort on his part in practice. The most he felt was a slight heaviness in his body, as if there was a little thump that went off inside of him.

Taiki gazed up at Gyousou as the man threaded Taiki’s arms through the Hou’s sleeves. Gyousou stared back at him. There was something fierce about those eyes, but Taiki was not afraid of them.

I’m afraid of me. Of what I’m about to do.

“Gyousou-dono…”

I didn’t have a revelation…

But there was no other way.

Taiki got onto his knees. Gyousou’s eyes flickered wide.

“My lord…”

Taiki lowered his head. Deeply…deeply. As if begging for forgiveness.

“I will never leave your side…nor shall I disobey your orders… I swear an oath of fealty.”

This was a betrayal—against the laws of nature, the sages, the monarch, against anything and everything.

“I swear…”

I know I shouldn’t be doing this…!

Gyousou was momentarily silent. Taiki could feel his gaze to a painful degree.

Just when he was thinking that it was technically still possible to take it all back, a deep and quiet voice fell onto his ears from above.

“I allow it.”

Now past the point of no return, Taiki dipped his head even lower—to a degree that was physically painful. His face was so close to the ground that he was tempted to let it fall.

What an outrageous betrayal he had committed. His absurd lie spat in the face of everyone who had ever shown him compassion, of the country, of its ruler, of the people, and of Gyousou himself.

And now he prostrated himself at Gyousou’s feet. The knowledge of his crime pierced him through, and his eyes saw nothing but darkness.

I wish I could take it back.

He was tempted to scream that this was all a lie.

What stopped his cry from spilling out of his throat was the sensation of rising into the air. Gyousou had lifted Taiki up with his arms. Startled, Taiki looked back at Gyousou’s face—and saw a proud smile lifting his lips.

“I thank you, Taiki!”

While Taiki was lost for words, the crowd around Gyousou began to stir. Still holding Taiki in the air, Gyousou swept his eyes over his surroundings, looking for all the world as if nothing could have made him prouder.

When he was done, he turned to Taiki with a broad grin.

“You may be young, but your eyes are keen.”

Unable to bear that forthright gaze, Taiki looked away—and saw Sanshi racing toward him.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

1

SO HE WAS THE KING.

When Sanshi saw Taiki prostrating himself at Gyousou’s feet, everything clicked into place for her. It now made sense why Taiki appeared to regard Gyousou with trepidation. Sanshi had not thought anything in particular of Taiki’s attachment to Gyousou, given that he was generally the sort of child who endeared himself to others. If anything, Taiki seemed to be fonder of Risai than Gyousou, which only made his fixation on Gyousou all the more inexplicable.

As she pursued Taiki’s presence—the boy always appeared to Sanshi as a golden light—into the Yellow Sea, questions swirled in Sanshi’s mind. Why was she unable to catch Taiki when he ran away? Why did he suddenly take his Kirin form?

The hazy answer she arrived at was “willpower.” Taiki had been absolutely adamant about not letting her impede his actions. He was dead set on running, come what may, and this strength of will unconsciously manifested when Sanshi tried to catch him. Perhaps this was why he transformed now after finding it impossible for so long.

The question was why Taiki showed this uncharacteristic strength of will exclusively when Gyousou was involved. The Kirin’s aura was so thin that he appeared weak at first glance. Sanshi had no idea where it came from, but Taiki tended to self-deprecate, which went beyond modesty and into the realm of self-loathing at times. So why was his attitude so different when it came to Gyousou? So mighty was his willpower that he could stop Sanshi, even though she lived for nothing but ensuring Taiki’s safety. This willpower even enabled him to turn a Toutetsu into his Shirei and facilitated his very first transformation. Sanshi could not decide whether it was because Taiki bore a hidden power or if there was another reason involved.

Sanshi tended to stay concealed and attached to Taiki’s shadow so that she could follow him around everywhere. But they were separated after she impulsively showed herself in order to stop him. So, grinding her teeth, she and Gouran ran all the way down to the foot of Mount Hou in pursuit of their master.

And when she saw him there, her mind was cleared of questions.

Taiki was desperate, she realized.

Regardless of whether he himself was aware of it, Taiki was frantic enough to draw out power that far surpassed his capabilities—because Gyousou was the king.

When Sanshi jumped off the rock landing and into the hollow, Taiki looked over at her. There was a look of hapless alarm on his face, as if he was at his wits’ end.

To this, Sanshi smiled, before dissolving her form so that it melded with Taiki’s shadow.

She still had lingering questions, like why Taiki had been so afraid of Gyousou or why he had not realized that Gyousou was the king until now. But under these circumstances, Sanshi had no more reason to pursue Taiki.

At the end of the day, there was nothing more important to Sanshi than Taiki.

When Gyousou’s party returned to Mount Hou, the sage women stood in a group outside Hoto Palace, their faces flush with color.

“Taiki! You had us worried!” Youka came running up to Taiki as soon as she saw Gyousou lift him down from Keito’s back. “What on earth happened? I expect an explanation from you too, Gyousou-dono.”

Gyousou simply smiled at that. In his stead, his attendant gave a loud, ringing response. “The lord came in pursuit of his master!”

The crowd around Hoto Palace stirred; cheers of jubilation eventually followed.

Youka’s eyes traveled between the grinning Gyousou and the fearful Taiki behind him.

“His master… You mean…?”

Youka fell to her knees.

“Was there a divine revelation?”

Taiki could not answer. Instead, the affirmation came from the attendants around him, soon followed by another firm voice from sight unseen.

“There was a pact,” this voice declared. It was Sanshi.

Youka gaped in shock. When Sanshi turned her wide eyes toward Teiei, Teiei nodded solemnly before getting on her knees and prostrating on the ground with both hands. The other sage women followed suit.

“We congratulate you, Gyousou-sama.”

Gyousou nodded and smiled, his hand on Taiki’s shoulder.

With her face still pointing toward the ground, Teiei spoke, her voice faintly trembling. “I wish you a long and illustrious reign…King of Tai and Tai-Taiho.”

Taiki’s violation was set in stone.

2

GYOUSOU AND HIS RETAINERS WASTED NO TIME shifting to Houro Palace. Gyousou stayed at the Tankei Pavilion, the closest building to the outside world. It was the largest pavilion in Houro Palace, and traditionally, the rulers waited there to receive the Mandate of Heaven.

From then on, the sages treated Gyousou like an entirely different person. He was now the master of their master—they could not afford to misstep around him. Dozens of sages filed into the Tankei Pavilion in order to provide for Gyousou’s group. They would attend to the master and his servants hand and foot, from the moment they woke to when they slept.

The change was dramatic, one could say. Up until then, the sages had demanded respect from Gyousou, but now they were the ones bowing to him. Gyousou no longer had to kneel to any of the sages, and the same thing went for how he treated the lord of Mount Hou. As soon as he stepped outside Houro Palace, his equals of yesterday would kowtow to him.

Gyousou had climbed to the very pinnacle of human existence.

“Congratulations.”

By the time Risai came by to offer her congratulations, there was hardly any time left until the auspicious day.

“Is it okay for you to be up and about already?” asked Gyousou.

“Your concern is wasted on me, my liege.” Risai bowed her head low in prostration before turning to Taiki. “I must congratulate you too, Taiho.”

“Thank you very much,” Taiki said.

Risai cocked her head at his listless tone. “I apologize for asking, but does something ail you, Taiho?”

The child gave her a thin, uneasy smile. “No… Um, it feels weird when you call me Taiho.”

Risai smiled. “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Uh-huh…”

Risai flashed a smile at the ill-at-ease Taiki before gazing up at Gyousou. “To be frank with you, I came to both congratulate you and to announce my departure.”

Gyousou frowned ever so slightly. “Are you well enough yet to descend the mountain?”

“I am, and I have you to thank for it. I feel that there is nothing left for me to do here, so I will descend the mountain with the group tomorrow.”

Gyousou nodded. “Very well. I bid you well. Let us meet again in Tai.”

“So we shall. Thank you very much.”

Following that short audience, Taiki saw Risai preparing to leave the Tankei Pavilion. He looked up at Gyousou. “May I see Risai-dono off?”

Gyousou smiled. “Go ahead,” he said, then abruptly raised his hand. “Oh, one more thing, Risai.”

“What is it?”

“The Forbidden Troops are missing a general now. What do you think about taking up the position?”

Risai smiled uneasily at Gyousou’s question. “It would not do for the post to remain empty forever. I believe it would be prudent to compare the achievements and virtues of all the generals instead of allowing emotions to dictate the decision.”

“Well said.”

Gyousou smiled faintly. Go, his eyes urged Risai.

Risai performed one more bow and left the pavilion. Taiki followed after her.

3

“DON’T YOU WANT TO BE A GENERAL FOR THE Forbidden Troops, Risai-dono?”

Taiki and Risai walked down the narrow path between the rocks.

“It’s not as if I don’t want the position, but I think that if there’s someone more suitable than me, it should go to them.”

“You’re so upright,” Taiki mumbled.

Risai peered at Taiki’s inexplicably downcast face. “Are you sure you’re well? You don’t seem quite yourself.”

“It’s nothing.”

It certainly didn’t look like nothing.

“Does something weigh on your mind?” Risai asked, changing tack.

Taiki looked up at her. “Risai-dono, are you happy that Gyousou is the king…?”

Risai blinked, though she soon felt as if she understood what Taiki was getting at. “Of course. Gyousou-dono will be a splendid king… I said it before. Do you remember?”

“You did say that, yes.”

“I believe that if I were chosen over him, I’d have doubts in my mind. I am glad that our monarch is an individual who can be respected without any qualms. I must thank you for choosing well.”

Taiki tried to smile but couldn’t.

“It is nothing for you to worry yourself over. The heavens are what choose the monarchs.”

Risai’s words of comfort felt like salt on his wound.

“You don’t seem jubilant, Taiho,” Gyousou said to Taiki after he returned.

“I’m happy.”

“Risai was as puzzled as I am.” Gyousou paused. “Every time I look at you, I feel as if I must have accosted you.”

“What, really?”

Youka, who stood nearby, giggled. “Taiho is sad about leaving Mount Hou, I’m sure. He left Hourai a very short while ago, and he is still very young. And now, just after getting used to this place, he has to leave again.”

“I see,” Gyousou said, but Taiki felt a stab in his chest at Youka’s words. It occurred to him that he had never once thought about leaving Mount Hou or saying goodbye to the sage women.

Gyousou beckoned to Taiki. “I’m sure you had a name in Hourai. What was it?”

Taiki cocked his head as he approached Gyousou, prompting the king-to-be to chuckle.

“I imagine you feel stifled being called Taiho by everyone. The title is a constant reminder of your great duty. So how about your name?”

“It’s…Kaname. Kaname Takasato.”

When Taiki wrote the characters on Gyousou’s palm, Gyousou smiled.

“A fine name. ‘Kaname’—that means ‘essential.’ You are essential to the Kingdom of Tai.”

Taiki dropped his gaze.

“Your family name is interesting. There is a mountain on Mount Hou, called Kouri, which is written with the same characters. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“It is said that the souls of the dead return there. If you add the grass radical to the ‘Taka’ in your name, it turns into the name of the mountain where the dead live. It is sinister in a way that is actually auspicious.”

“The dead…” Taiki muttered.

Gyousou nodded. “Just as shiki eventually turns into seiki, the dead will eventually return to the living. In the same way, you are Kouri—for you are the being which promises to restore life to Tai.”

Taiki looked at his feet.

Those words brought endless pain to a sinner like him, yet he couldn’t see any way of turning back time.

4

AND SO THE DAY CAME.

After Taiki had bathed and dressed in ceremonial attire, Youka came to pick him up, clad in a jet-black outfit herself. Black was used for auspicious events, while white was reserved for misfortune. Although Taiki knew by now that it was the opposite in Hourai, he still saw another meaning in the sages’ black garb.

What a terrible omen.

Youka prostrated herself on the floor and issued the formal greeting.

“Tai-Taiho, the hour has arrived.”

“Yes…”

It was as if they were about to have a funeral, thought Taiki.

Youka lifted her head, an expression of worry on her face. “Is something the matter? Did you not get enough sleep last night?”

Taiki did not answer.

Of course he could not sleep. Within hours, he and Gyousou would ascend Mount Hou. There, they would receive the Mandate of Heaven, and the heavens would acknowledge Gyousou as king.

Taiki’s lie would definitely be exposed.

He had no idea what the formal procedure was, but he doubted that the heavens would look kindly upon his misdoing. Gyousou would be denounced as a false king, and Taiki’s actions would fall into question for forming a pact with the wrong person.

He could not imagine what punishment awaited him, but this was Taiki’s sin alone. Gyousou bore no responsibility. He had to plead his case so that Gyousou would not take the fall alongside him.

This thought filled his head, leaving him room for no other considerations—not even sleep.

For a short while, Youka stared hard at Taiki. Then, still on her knees, she gently reached her arms out toward him. Taiki silently walked up to her.

Youka stroked his hair. “It is still short,” she murmured.

“It is…?”

“Yes. Don’t think you can cut it just because we sage women won’t be there to keep an eye on you. You have a beautiful form—it would be a pity for your mane to be short…”

Realizing that she was talking about his transformed state, Taiki nodded. “Were you watching?”

The thought had never even crossed his mind that the sages witnessed him the night he transformed—even though both he and the sages had so fervently wished for the transformation to happen.

“I was. It gladdened my heart.” Slowly, carefully, Youka stroked his hair. “Gyousou-sama will be a dependable king. I am really, truly happy that these events came to pass.”

“You’re…happy?”

Youka blinked. “Yes…although a part of me is a little sad.”

She was a kindhearted soul, the sage he felt closest to. It was impossible to estimate how much love she had showered upon him.

“Youka…”

He wrapped his arms around her as she sat on her knees.

This is…goodbye.

“Be well, Taiki.”

I’m sorry, he murmured for the umpteenth time.

Ever since he came to Mount Hou, all he had ever done was apologize to the sages. He always betrayed their expectations—by not being able to transform, by not being able to take a Shirei, and now because of this awful deception.

How wonderful it would be if he could start over from scratch. If only he had been able to silently watch Gyousou leave him behind. Then he would never have had to leave Mount Hou with this terrible guilt in his chest. He could have enjoyed his life the way he so innocently did until just a short while ago—waking up to Youka’s songlike voice, laughing with the sages as they ate together, playing with Sanshi in the labyrinth. Those idyllic days could have stretched far into the future.

For a while, Youka stroked his back, until finally they broke apart.

“Now then, shall we go?”

5

YOUKA TOOK HIM TO THE UNTEI PAVILION, SITUATED at the bottom of the cliff north of Houro Palace.

At the back of the pavilion lay a red gate. Once, when he was bored, Taiki had walked around all the pavilions. When he opened this gate, the only thing he saw was a green rock wall—but now, out of the blue, a pair of ascending stairs appeared before his eyes.

With its translucent appearance and the bright light that shone beneath it, it looked as if it were made of crystal. Atop the quiet and secluded steps, a white bird with a raven-like appearance lay in wait.

The sages prostrated themselves on the ground. Gyousou and Taiki walked up to the door, and Gyokuyou bowed deeply in their direction.

“I pray for your everlasting good health.”

Gyousou and Taiki bowed in return.

Beckoned by the bird, Gyousou stepped onto the stairs—and in that moment, he stiffened.

Taiki’s blood ran cold. He was utterly convinced that he was about to incur the wrath of the heavens. He watched with bated breath, but nothing appeared to happen as Gyousou strode further up the stairs. Taiki followed after him.

As he took another step, it dawned on Taiki that Gyousou was rigid—as if an electric current ran through him.

Something flashed through Taiki from head to foot—a single thought etching into his mind.

In the beginning, there were nine ordered states and four barbarian states. Their rulers cared nothing for the common people, and although they knew of the heavenly mandates, they sneered and disparaged them. They slighted the Way of the heavens and the earth, ignored the path of benevolence, and belittled the laws of order and discipline. Smoke was a constant in the winds, and the flames of war ravaged tens of thousands of villages. The blood of the deceased, humans and horses alike, carved great rivers across the land.

Vexed by this state of affairs, the Lord Above attempted to restore reason to the people, only for them to succumb to vice and indulge in debauchery. The Lord Above lamented and passed down his decree: He would swallow the nine ordered states and the four barbarian states and return the world to its primordial state. Then, using reason, he would create a new heavens and earth, paving the way for law and order.

Taiki’s feet took another step, as if being pulled toward the top.

The Lord established thirteen nations. One of the nations he turned into the Yellow Sea and Mount Hou, which he entrusted to the care of the Queen Mother of the West. The remaining twelve kingdoms he gave to the monarchs. To each, he presented a tree branch, which became the foundations of their nations.

A serpent was coiled around each branch. The monarchs removed them and held them up toward the sky so that they supported the heavens.

The branches bore three fruits which transformed when they fell. One became the throne, another became the land, and the third became the people. The branches formed into jeweled writing brushes, harkening the beginning of the world.

Taiki had no time to scrutinize this wave of information.

The first of the Steadfast Edicts declares thus: All rulers must follow the path of benevolence. They must never oppress the citizenry, engage in warfare, hoard land, or overburden the people with taxes and laws. They must never sacrifice their citizens, nor shall they allow the buying and selling of people. They must preserve the Way and pursue virtue. A kingdom’s prosperity is ensured through the safety and well-being of its people.

More information flowed into Taiki’s brain with each step he took up the long staircase: the obligations of the ruler and chancellor; the structure of the heavens, earth, the nation, and its systems; the definitions of “benevolence” and “etiquette”; what to do and what not to do; what decisions to make and what must never come to pass.

Taiki’s feet climbed up the steps as if possessed. By the time he snapped back to his senses, Taiki was fully exposed in the sun. Whipping his head back over his shoulder, he saw the crimson gates closing. The eyes of the bird at the very top of the stairs glimmered in the sunlight as it watched him.

As the gates made a faint noise upon shutting, Taiki’s ears picked up a new sound: the sound of waves. When he looked around wildly, the first thing that fell into his vision was sprawling azure waters.

“The Sea of Clouds…”

Taiki was already aware that it existed. It hung in the sky, separating the upper and lower planes of existence.

Taiki was standing on a small island. A tiny shrine lay to his back, its red gates closing shut at that precise moment. Directly in front of him were stone steps, and atop the steps was a far grander shrine. Some distance away, Taiki could see several other islands around the one he stood upon. Lotus-like flowers filled the gaps between them whenever the tide washed over the edges.

Taiki knew what he was supposed to do.

He entered the shrine, offered incense to the statues of the Queen Mother of the West and the Lord Above, and uttered the words of his vow—to ensure that Gyousou followed the Way and conducted himself with virtue. This would make the Black Tortoise appear, which would carry him across the Sea of Clouds to Hakkei Palace, situated in Tai’s capital city of Kouki.

Dazed, Taiki understood all too well why his blood had run cold.

It’s over.

He had thought that there would be some kind of selection here, and that his lie would be exposed and judged. He had been convinced that regardless of which form it took, this would be the moment when he faced his comeuppance.

It never happened.

He climbed the steps, learned of the Lord Above’s designs, and received the entirety of the Mandate of Heaven.

The weight of his guilt intensified. He had no opportunity now to right his wrong. And with this awareness came the knowledge of the king’s significance—how heavy indeed that duty was. The king would not just rule the country; his very existence was necessary for protecting the kingdom. His presence balanced the forces of yin and yang and regulated the equilibrium of all things. The king’s role was an essential part of shifting the nation’s fate in a positive direction.

Taiki looked up at the profile of his master, who was beholding the Sea of Clouds with silent yet deep emotion.

The king’s very existence shielded the nation and brought stability to the people. If that was the case, then…

Taiki’s head swam with dizziness.

With a false king at the helm, what would become of the Kingdom of Tai?

6

CAUGHT IN THE GRIPS OF REGRET AND DESPAIR, Taiki watched Gyousou speak his vows.

At that precise moment, a voice cried out in the Nisei Pavilion.

Located deep in the heart of Hakkei Palace, which stood upon the summit of Mount Kouki in the northeast Kingdom of Tai, the Nisei Pavilion was a small residence fit to accommodate the king and ten of his attendants. Upon hearing the sudden cry from the pavilion, the officials broke out into a fervor.

“The White Pheasant has cried!” one of the officials shouted as he leaped out of the pavilion, a look of unrestrained glee writ upon his face. “It has sounded the first cry!”

A great clamor arose among those who heard his shout. Before long, cheers of jubilation resounded throughout the entire palace.

The White Pheasant cried out only twice in its entire lifespan, and those cries had two distinct meanings. For this reason, it was also referred to as a Nisei, meaning “two cries.” Upon letting out its second cry, the White Pheasant would promptly perish, so the second cry was also known as the “death knell.”

The first cry signaled the beginning of a monarch’s reign, and the second spelled its end. The White Pheasant cried out exactly twice in its entire lifespan to communicate those messages to the humans.

This particular White Pheasant was born ten years ago, and after all that time in Hakkei Palace, it had not once sounded its cry.

In other words, this was the first cry.

“The White Pheasant has cried! It has sounded the first cry!”

The shouts raced all the way from the inner palace, the residential area, to the outer palace, the administration area. Where the shouts traveled, the din of merriment swiftly followed.

“The new ruler of Tai has taken the throne!”

At that same moment in Gyouten, the capital city of the eastern Kingdom of Kei, a shout resounded through the royal residence of Kinpa Palace. “Open the Godou Pavilion’s doors!”

Keiki looked up at the official’s shout. The queen of Kei, who had been pointedly tuning out Keiki’s report from the Six Ministries, also glanced up in curiosity.

A court lady rushed to open the window. Not a second later, a bird flew in and perched on a golden stool made specifically for it.

“The White Pheasant has cried,” spoke the master of the Godou Pavilion, a firebird.

A mated pair of firebirds resided in the pavilion. The female was capable of communicating telepathically with the female firebirds of other kingdoms, while the male proclaimed the major events aloud.

In a booming, sonorous voice, the firebird declared, “The first cry has sounded in the Kingdom of Tai. The king of Tai has ascended to the throne.”

Keiki stared closely at the magnificent bird, then a faint smile lit his lips.

Jyokaku, queen of Kei, was momentarily stunned by her Kirin’s rare smile.

A short while after that, Youka stopped in the middle of one of Houro Palace’s many pathways to gaze skyward.

She could see the Zuiun’s trail across the blue sky, heading northeast from the summit of Mount Hou. The Zuiun was similar to a boat’s wake, left by the Black Tortoise when it traveled across the Sea of Clouds, although Youka was unaware of this.

Youka gazed vacantly up at the moving clouds, a reaction shared by several sages next to her.

“Taiki…”

Their beloved child was going away.

After the woefully short festivities, the lonely season would descend upon Mount Hou.

It would take many years for the next Kirin to take fruit.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

1

THE BLACK TORTOISE ARRIVED AT THE SUMMIT OF Mount Kouki, the cloud-piercing mountain upon which the capital city of the northeastern Kingdom of Tai was situated.

The Black Tortoise itself was the size of a small island. Countless indents filled its shell, resembling the rocky texture of Mount Hou. Neither its head nor its shell bore any hint of moisture, indicating that it must have been sheltering somewhere before it arrived. In the very center of its shell sat a small building devoid of occupants, though it was fully furnished with all the necessities for an overnight stay.

When Gyousou and Taiki emerged from the shrine atop the peak of Mount Hou, the Black Tortoise beckoned its rocklike head toward them from atop the Sea of Clouds. It had been waiting in order to ferry them across the cliff on its back. As Gyousou and Taiki traveled—or, perhaps more accurately, sailed—to the Hakkei Palace in Tai, their vassals prepared for their king’s residency.

As they reached their destination, Taiki’s initial impression was that it appeared to be a jagged-looking island. As they drew closer, he realized it was in the shape of a horseshoe, with buildings teeming around its massive inlet. The walls and pillars shone a glossy white, and the roofs were an even darker shade of navy blue than the ones at Houro Palace. The scene reflected in the perfectly still waters of the inlet had an ethereal, dreamlike beauty to it.

“That is Hakkei Palace. Splendid, no?” said Gyousou.

Taiki nodded, entranced.

“Over there is the outer palace where they carry out the administrative work, and over there is the inner palace.” Gyousou lifted his hand and pointed. “The Jinjyuu Sanctuary, where you’ll be living, is that way.”

He showed Taiki a cluster of buildings by the water’s edge.

“But I’m just a retainer, right? Do I get to live here too?”

“Of course, Kouri. You may be a minister, but not one of ordinary strokes. If the nation is a boat, then the king is the sail and the Kirin is the anchor. Both are essential.”

“Right…”

When the Black Tortoise finally pulled into the inlet, Taiki saw too many flags to count around the palace. Outside the building directly in front of them, swarms of people kowtowed before them in lines. The Black Tortoise extended its head toward the cliff a second time.

Passing through the crowd of prostrating people, Taiki climbed his way up to the palace building. Cheers and shouts of congratulations streamed through his ears, leaving him utterly bewildered.

After his extravagant and privileged lifestyle at Houro Palace, he thought he was used to people serving him, but this treatment was on a completely different level. He was tempted to summon Sanshi and hold her hand, but Youka told him not to do this. Now that he had chosen his king and descended to his native land, he was considered an adult. No longer was Sanshi a mother figure—she was now a Shirei, and Taiki was not meant to summon his Shirei in front of other people for trivial matters.

This was all the more reason why he was profoundly relieved to retreat to his private quarters after the ceremonies came to an end for the day. When he lowered the curtain over his bed, the first thing he did was take a deep breath and call out Sanshi’s name.

Eight attendants were on standby in the neighboring room to attend to Taiki’s beck and call, which was why he kept his voice very quiet.

“What is the matter?” Normally, Sanshi would appear instantly, but this time only her voice manifested.

“Sanshi…”

“You are an adult now. I can no longer sleep beside you.”

“You…can’t?”

Taiki sat up on his futon, which was far larger than the one from the Rosen Pavilion.

“I will always be with you, even when you cannot see me.”

“But—”

“I bid you goodnight.”

Following the implicit command, Taiki laid his head down, but he did not feel even the slightest touch of drowsiness.

All of a sudden, he sensed something smile, and he felt the touch of fingers on his hand underneath the futon sheet. The feel was unmistakably Sanshi’s hand.

Her hand—or at least the presence of it—closed tightly around Taiki’s.

“I bid you goodnight,” she repeated herself, more softly this time.

“Mm-hmm…”

Taiki closed his eyes, relieved at last, but unfortunately for him, his rest was fitful. When next he woke, his body understood instinctively, beyond any shadow of doubt, that nightmares had visited him in his sleep.

2

A KIRIN AIDED THEIR MONARCH’S ADMINISTRATION under a title known as “Saiho.” However young or old a Kirin was, this duty was inescapable.

Taiki was no exception. He would have to wake up at a fixed time, dress in ceremonial clothing, depart for the outer palace, and attend regular court councils. Then, until noon, he would stay at his king’s side and act as an administrative aide. Even if this only amounted to watching from the sidelines at first, it was still compulsory for a Kirin.

After finishing his afternoon duties, the king would withdraw to his private chambers. Although a Saiho was permitted to return to their own room at this point, Taiki stayed with Gyousou until bedtime.

Gyousou’s first order of business was organizing his own coronation ceremony. He also had to construct a new system of administration, preserving the good parts from the previous reign and rejecting the bad. Chief among these tasks was assigning his ministers and writing the laws.

“What will you do about the grandmaster’s complaints?” asked Taiki.

Gyousou lay on a bench in his room, peering at sheafs of documents. Taiki sat on the floor next to him.

“I will make no compromises,” Gyousou said.

The previous king was an extravagant spender, which ultimately led to his ruin. Knowing this, Gyousou made it his first priority after assuming the throne to cut the number of personnel to the minimum. This left many servants and court ladies with nothing to do. Gyousou ordered the pavilions that were not currently in use to be sealed shut.

The grandmaster in question was the chief musician, who was upset that Gyousou had dismissed too many musicians under his employ.

“I will tell him that as a military man, I have no appreciation for entertainment,” Gyousou said.

Taiki hesitated. “But everyone’s going to be out of a job…”

“Do you know how many musicians the previous king left behind?”

Taiki shook his head. “No.”

“Neither do I. But what I can say is that it was far above the ordinary. Every building in the inner palace had different music playing, and it never stopped throughout an entire day. They would play even when the king was outside the inner palace. I could hear them from my seat in the council.”

“Wow…”

“If they are talented enough to serve in a palace, the musicians should have no trouble finding other work. As long as there are enough to avoid offending guests, that should suffice.”

“The grandmaster claims that there won’t be enough musicians for your coronation,” Taiki pointed out.

“I can live with that. Tai is a poor nation.”

“The Minister of Spring agrees that your plans for the coronation are a little too simplistic.”

The Ministry of Spring was part of the Six Ministries, and it handled formal ceremonies and rituals.

“Those who wish to laugh at my thriftiness can laugh. It is inevitable for me to tighten the belt. The last king’s extravagance depleted the coffers. All we have left in the storehouses is borrowed money and receipts.”

“Uh-huh…”

Being a young child, Taiki understood little of adult society, let alone the workings of politics. He was not necessarily knowledgeable about Tai’s circumstances either. Gyousou, on the other hand, was a senior statesman with access to the inner palace, which meant that he had no need of Taiki’s advice whatsoever. Taiki knew that well.

“Perhaps I should replace the Minister of Spring as well,” Gyousou muttered as he stared at the papers. When Taiki looked at him, he added, “He has a taste for extravagant ceremonies, much like his former liege.”

“But you don’t have to make snap decisions…”

Gyousou looked at Taiki and smiled. “You’re right. I’ll just keep an eye on him for now.”

Taiki’s eyes fell to his feet. He knew that Gyousou had smiled to appease him.

“Sorry,” Taiki mumbled. “I keep making dumb comments…”

“Not at all. Having you question everything helps me keep a cool head.”

Even Taiki could tell that Gyousou was only saying that to make him feel better. “I’m really sorry…”

Casting a glance at the dejected Taiki, Gyousou sat up.

“Kouri,” he intoned, “will you share what ails your mind?”

Taiki hurriedly shook his head at Gyousou’s question. “Oh, no, it’s nothing.”

Gyousou put down the paper that had previously consumed his attention, choosing instead to lift Taiki off the ground. “Do you miss Mount Hou?”

“Well, that’s…”

“The sage women said that you should speak up if you are homesick, did they not? You are too hesitant in speaking your mind.”

“That’s…not quite it.”

“Well, then, what ails you? And don’t tell me that there’s nothing. You are still young, and it does you no good to exert yourself.”

There was no ready answer on Taiki’s tongue.

“As soon as the coronation is over, I will send you straight to Kei. It will do you good to spend time with Kei-Taiho.”

Taiki finally spoke. “I couldn’t…possibly.”

“Do you think me so incompetent? Does it pain you so much to leave matters in my hands?”

Taiki shook his head, but in this he was entirely untruthful. He felt as if he had to keep a close watch on Gyousou. He could not let his eyes waver for a second. Although he did not necessarily distrust Gyousou as a person, Taiki felt obligated to prevent him from straying from the path just in case the worst came to pass.

Because Gyousou was chosen without a divine revelation.

Inwardly, Gyousou frowned at the child’s obstinate expression. What was bothering Taiki so much? Gyousou didn’t think that it was simply a matter of him missing the sage women.

Was he intimidated by the weight of his responsibilities? Or perhaps…

Thinking back to when they met at Mount Hou, Gyousou wondered if it was his imagination that Taiki’s gloom deepened as the days went by.

Gyousou put the child down on the floor.

“Anyway, take a rest. You don’t need to stick with me until nightfall.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not. Do you know how pale you look?”

“No, I—” The boy cut himself off mid-sentence.

Gyousou patted his head. “This is an order. Go back to your quarters for today. You must not leave until it is past noon.”

“My lord…”

“I promise that I will make no decisions without consulting you first. Rest now. What do you say?”

Taiki lowered his eyes.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

3

A SAIHO HAD ONE OTHER ROLE BESIDES SUPPORTING their king: performing the duties of the lord of Zui Province, where the kingdom’s capital was located.

Jinjyuu Sanctuary, the building where Taiki lived his day-to-day life, also functioned as Zui Province’s government office. Taiki allotted a short part of his afternoons to administrative work—although it had to be said that a Kirin merely oversaw the province on their king’s behalf. The king was the actual ruler here.

At this point in time, Taiki knew nothing beyond the bare essentials from the Mandate of Heaven. So although he technically did administrative work, in practice, it amounted to listening quietly to what an official told him and asking questions about what he didn’t understand. In short, he spent the time either learning or being confused.

Gyousou would visit the Jinjyuu Sanctuary during those times and watch Taiki at work, occasionally interjecting with a comment. He would go back to the inner palace to resume his own duties when Taiki finished, though he firmly forbade Taiki from following him.

With his hand forced, Taiki spent most of the afternoon in his quarters, not doing much of anything.

In the beginning, he had eight aides, but that number went down to two after the budget cuts. As a show of kindness, Gyousou left the court ladies employed, for he knew that Taiki was used to being surrounded by women. Gyousou would always summon them at dinnertime—that, too, was a sign of his consideration, Taiki knew.

Being cared for to such an extent only made it harder for Taiki to rest. The more Gyousou showed his kindness, the more Taiki felt the pressure weighing on him—and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

One day, after sighing his way through yet another afternoon, Taiki received an abrupt summons from Gyousou in the inner palace. He raced over immediately—there were only a few days left before the auspicious day of the coronation ceremony.

“Taiho, there is a visitor for you.”

The palace had a specific room for entertaining guests from foreign kingdoms. Its door was open, with Gyousou standing on the other side.

Surprised at being called “Taiho” for once, Taiki looked over at Gyousou and noticed that there was something cheeky about the smile on his face.

“A guest, you say?” Taiki asked hesitantly, convinced that nobody would come to see him of all people.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Taiki cocked his head. He felt a distinct presence in his surroundings, the same way he felt when he spotted something. Sweeping his gaze around, he thought he could see what resembled a very faint golden bubble. The image appeared to waver as it moved, like a thin sash.

Could it be? Taiki felt the palpitations of his heartbeat. “Kei-Taiho…”

The Kirin responded with a barely discernible smile before launching into a polite greeting. “I am delighted to see that you have descended to your kingdom.”

Taiki’s feet halted mid-run. He was unable to look Keiki directly in the eyes. “Thank you…very much…”

Keiki peered at the child, puzzled at the way he skirted his gaze. What explained this change in attitude?

He had an inkling about why Gyousou had expressly called for him. Generally, etiquette dictated that the palace refrain from visitations until after a coronation. Even if there was contact, a monarch and Kirin tended not to fraternize too deeply with the authorities of other kingdoms. In fact, as far as Keiki was concerned, the only other Kirin he was on friendly enough terms with to respond to casual summons was Enki from Kei’s neighboring Kingdom of En, who had helped him in the process of finding his queen. Gyousou had to be aware of the convention, given that he served as a senior statesman in the previous administration, but it wouldn’t have surprised Keiki if Gyousou had called for him out of a desire to break tradition.

“I am the first to visit you, as I promised. Are you still doing well?”

“Yes.” Taiki’s face was downcast and rigid. When the boy looked up and met Keiki’s gaze, Keiki saw no hint of a smile in his eyes.

“You don’t look well… Did something happen?”

“Not rea—”

Gyousou, watching their conversation with a frown, cut in. “You must have a lot to catch up on. I will take my leave.”

To this, Keiki responded with polite acknowledgment, and Taiki had no choice but to go along with it as well. He knew that Gyousou would be returning to his work, though as complicated and intricate as it was, the king would not allow Taiki to accompany him—especially because there was a guest today.

After seeing Gyousou off with a slight bow of his head, Keiki turned to Taiki. “Will you show me around the garden?”

“Sure…although I don’t know it well enough to be much of a guide.”

“Do you not have enough time to take walks around the garden?”

Taiki’s hand stopped on the door leading to the garden. He had no words in response.

4

“I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED TAI’S WINDS TO BE FREEZING,” Keiki muttered to himself as he stood at the edge of a large pond in the inner palace garden. “Should we sit for a while?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Taiki, who stood diffidently behind him.

An astonishingly opulent gazebo stood nearby. An artifact of the previous administration, its floor and pillars were both made of crystal. The idea was to erect four similar gazebos around each corner of the lake out of smoky quartz, citrine, red crystal, and amethyst, but the construction came to a halt with the dissolution of the previous king’s reign.

“Tai is rich in gemstones… There should have been no civil strife.”

Keiki stroked an enormous crystal pillar. Each one of them was painstakingly assembled out of translucent crystals, large enough to cradle in one’s arms, and they were carved with intricate patterns.

The Kingdom of Tai had a poor climate for crops, though its abundance of gemstone springs should have made it a wealthy nation. As the name suggested, gemstone springs were springs where gemstones literally sprouted. Any gem seeds planted there would eventually grow into enormous crystals. The kingdom similarly possessed many gold and silver springs.

“A gazebo of this size would take around thirty years to build.”

Keiki had heard that the kingdom’s coffers were empty. The fact that the king’s reign had lasted for over a hundred years regardless was entirely due to how he had never mixed leisure with politics. Although he surrounded himself with servants and court ladies with a similar taste for luxury, he never gave them positions with any political influence.

“You’re not sitting?” Keiki asked. He glanced at the boy, who stood in silence.

“I’m fine,” Taiki said quietly.

“What ails you, Tai-Taiho?”

“Nothing,” Taiki mumbled.

It was an impossible claim to believe, given how thoroughly stiff Taiki’s expression was. “The king of Tai has told me that you have a Shirei under your command now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that you have successfully transformed.”

“Yes…”

“I’m disappointed.”

Taiki looked back at Keiki in confusion. Keiki wore a smile that was half sardonic and half self-deprecating.

“I came to visit you, just as I said I would. I thought you would be happier.”

Taiki visibly drooped.

“What a pity.” Keiki’s quiet voice cut deep.

Taiki felt awful that he wasn’t the least bit happy about meeting someone he thought he’d been missing. At the moment, he was woefully incapable of looking anyone squarely in the eyes—not even a court lady. He wondered when the last time he had slept soundly was. When had he last spoken to someone without any pangs in his conscience?

This was punishment. It was bound to continue indefinitely until at last the nature of his sin was exposed. Although Taiki knew he had no right to cry, tears sprang from his eyes anyway.

“Taiki…”

Keiki offered Taiki a hand. Taiki took it and promptly fell to his knees. Keiki stroked his head with such tenderness, so he let his head fall into Keiki’s lap.

“What happened?” Keiki’s tone was quiet and inflectionless, yet it held a piercing quality to it.

“Have you…ever regretted being born a Kirin?” Taiki asked.

“Never.”

“Have you ever regretted your choice of ruler?”

“No.”

Taiki looked up. “But I heard that you’ve had trouble making things work with your queen.”

“Who said that?”

“The sage women. They said—”

Keiki sighed.

The queen of Kei had completely abandoned her administrative duties. Lacking its central pillar, the kingdom’s governance threatened to fall into great disarray. The provincial lords did not take their queen seriously, and the civil officials looked out for nobody but themselves.

“I vowed never to leave her side or disobey her orders. If I am ordered to, I will follow her wherever her path leads. My mind is made up.”

The question was how much pain this would entail.

Taiki stared back at Keiki with his dark eyes before eventually lowering his gaze. “I wish I could say the same as you,” he murmured.

“Do you regret your choice?” Keiki asked flatly.

Taiki hesitated slightly at this question, before saying, “Yes.”

Keiki merely tilted his head, not saying anything. His expression revealed nothing.

At this point, Taiki could no longer keep his mouth shut. “I can’t take back what I did.”

Keiki silently waited for Taiki to continue.

“I couldn’t have made a worse betrayal.” The tiny Kirin lifted his eyes. They brimmed with desperate fervor. “I…didn’t have a revelation…when I chose my king.”

Keiki’s mind went black with astonishment. Taiki’s confession shocked him more than anything Keiki’s imagination could have conjured.

“There was…no revelation?”

Taiki nodded. “Nothing. I couldn’t see his Ouki either. I even rejected him once, but I—”

“Why?”

“I just…didn’t want to see Gyousou-sama go.” The child lifted his downcast eyes, peering up at Keiki. “What…do I do?”

The hands on Keiki’s lap trembled.

“How am I supposed to fix this mistake? How do I make up for it?”

“Taiki…”

“It’s all a lie. What happens now? Will Tai fall to ruin? Will the king face a punishment? If the heavens find out, what will happen to the people?”

Tears fell, one after another.

Keiki’s mouth opened, then closed. Gently, he patted the tiny hand clenched on his lap and stood up.

He bowed toward Taiki, who was still sitting on the gazebo floor, staring up at him.

“I have nothing to say… I will take my leave for today.”

As he hugged his knees in the corner of the gazebo, Taiki watched the Kirin’s golden hair recede in the distance.

Surely, Keiki was disgusted by him. Perhaps he would never meet with Taiki again.

Would word of this get out? Would Taiki’s deception be exposed for all the world to see?

And how would Gyousou take Taiki’s betrayal?

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

1

THE SUSPENSE LASTED UNTIL KEIKI VISITED TAIKI again two days later.

He gave no indication, at least, that he had said anything to Gyousou in the meantime. When Taiki saw Gyousou acting the same as ever at dinner, he was both relieved and depressed.

It was just another gloomy afternoon for him when a messenger from the inner palace informed him to wear his ceremonial clothes for a visitor. Taiki raced over to the inner palace to find Gyousou, Keiki, and two other people waiting for him there.

The man sitting directly in front of him looked to be about the same age as Gyousou. He was probably the guest of honor. Next to him was a boy who seemed slightly older than Taiki. His hair was as golden as Keiki’s, which gave off a very faint glow that appeared—at least to Taiki’s eyes—like an afterimage. Light appeared to emanate from Keiki in much the same way. It was the sign of a Kirin, which meant that this boy was probably a Kirin from one of the other kingdoms.

If Taiki had grown enough to perceive a Kirin’s aura, then…

Taiki bowed at the entrance, then eyed Gyousou. Taiki saw nothing that could be called Ouki around the king’s person.

When he entered the room, Taiki sat at one of the lower seats. Keiki signaled for him to come forward.

“I have brought the king of En and En-Taiho to see you,” Keiki said.

Taiki’s eyes turned wide.

The king of En…

Now he understood why Gyousou was seated at a distinctly lower position. Taiki fell to his knees and bowed his head slightly. Depending on the situation, one had to show utmost respect to a king. For most people, that meant getting on one’s hands and knees in a kowtowing position, but the Kirin were sole exceptions. Taiki could get away with just a light show of politeness.

“Um… Pleased to meet you.” Although Taiki had studied etiquette, he couldn’t recall the stock phrase he was meant to use in this situation—hence his underwhelming greeting.

Gyousou threw Taiki a bone. “Kouri,” he whispered. “The kowtow.”

“Huh?” Taiki looked back at Gyousou, flustered.

“The king of En is the second-longest reigning ruler at present after the king of Sou. He has surpassed the level of the other rulers.”

“B-but…” Taiki shot a panicked look at the two Kirin, but neither Keiki nor Enki refuted Gyousou’s words. “I-I see. I’m so sorry.”

Taiki hurriedly put his hands together and bowed a second time. This time, he dipped it low enough for his forehead to hit the floor, yet he stopped before making contact.

“What’s the matter?” It was the king of En who asked this.

“Nothing, um…” Taiki answered, trying to lower his head again—only to stop in the process. He was physically unable to kowtow.

“What’s wrong? Does the Kirin of Tai have a bone to pick with En?”

“No.”

Taiki looked to Gyousou for help but only received a frown for his trouble. “Taiki, what are you doing?” Gyousou said sternly.

Taiki tried again to lower his head—but predictably at this point, his body refused to move. It took every ounce of effort to bring his forehead up to a hair’s breadth away from the floor. Yet he could not close that puny distance any further, as if something physical blocked the way. He was similarly incapable of bending his arms.

“Oh? It certainly does seem like you have a grudge.” The king’s voice grew colder by the second.

Flustered, Taiki raised his head to look at him. “No, I—!”

It was Enki who spoke up then, his voice cold and detached. “Or maybe you don’t know your manners. Do you not have a word of thanks for the king of En, who has graciously responded to Kei-Taiho’s plea to grant you a personal visit?”

The king of En’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “It’s a first for me to receive this much disrespect from a fledgling Kirin. Taiki’s disdain for En is clear…or perhaps he was ordered to act thus by his king? Has he forbidden you from currying favor with En?”

“Of course not!” Taiki’s eyes flitted between all the grim faces around him. There was no salvation forthcoming.

“Then tell me the reason. If you cannot give a reason for your rudeness, then would it be fair for me to interpret this as a sign of Tai’s hostility toward En?”

“Taiki.” Hearing the reproach in Gyousou’s voice, Taiki hurriedly attempted to kowtow, but his head refused to cooperate. For some mysterious reason, his body was incapable of closing the distance to the floor.

Sweat dripped from Taiki’s head to the floor, not out of nervousness but from physical agony. He felt violently ill, as if he could vomit at any moment.

The king of En stood up. Taiki saw him approach out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s the matter? You can’t even pretend to show respect?”

No sooner did those words reach Taiki’s ears than he felt something grab him by the hair, pushing him down with tremendous force.

“All you have to do is lower your head like this, see?”

Not even Taiki knew why he was able to resist such brute force. His entire body and soul fought back, even when the force intensified to a degree that should have made anyone capitulate.

“You are obstinate,” said the king.

Just as the force pressed even harder against Taiki’s head…

The weight disappeared.

“That’s enough, you lout!”

A crisp noise rang out, and Taiki felt the hand move away from his hair. Lifting his eyes, he saw Enki had swatted the king of En’s hand.

“Can’t you see how little he is? You went way overboard!” Enki exclaimed. He peered at Taiki. “Hey, are you okay?”

As Taiki worked to steady his breathing, he looked up at Enki in confusion.

“Argh, you’re so pale. Can you stand? Need to lie down?” Enki wiped Taiki’s sweat away, seeming not to care that he was dirtying his own sleeve. When Taiki finally managed to sit up, Keiki helped support his weight.

“How do you feel?” asked Keiki. “We should get you to a chair…”

As for the king of En, he watched the trio with an expression of dry amusement and interest. “Aww, you Kirin are all such buddies.”

“Don’t be a dumbass,” said Enki. “You got way too into playing the villain! Now look at what you’ve done!”

Taiki gazed vacantly at the three of them.

“I always knew you were the kind to leap before you look, but I didn’t think you’d go this far overboard,” Enki remarked.

“What? You and Kei-Taiho were the ones who suggested it…”

“I did not ask for cruelty!” shouted Keiki.

“Use your common sense!” Enki concurred.

The king shrank up at the Kirins’ joint fury.

“Um…?” Taiki spoke up.

The king of En chuckled at the boy’s implicit question. “Do you get it now?”

Taiki did not have to ask what.

“A Kirin is incapable of forming a false pact.” The king of En’s eyes softened.

Enki reacted to his king by delivering an unexpected whack to the head. “Don’t you start acting all kingly now, bucko!”

2

KEIKI TOOK TAIKI OUT ONTO THE WINDY BALCONY and sat him down on a chair. When he got on his knees in front of the boy, their gazes were perfectly level.

“I apologize for the insufficiency of my words.” Gently, he took Taiki’s hands. “I should have given a more complete explanation when you asked me about the divine revelation. My negligence led to your suffering. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

“Taiho… I…”

“The divine revelation has no discrete form.”

There was a wan smile on Keiki’s lips. “Taiki, nothing happens that can make you expressly state, ‘This is a divine revelation.’”

Taiki peered at Keiki’s face. “Not a single thing…?”

Keiki nodded, meeting Taiki’s gaze. “That’s right. Every king or queen has Ouki. But Ouki cannot be detected by sight either.”

“There’s no light?” Taiki asked. Ever since Keiki had told him that a Kirin’s presence took on a golden glow, Taiki had assumed that Ouki appeared similarly.

“You might perceive it as a light, or in other cases, it might seem to you like darkness. Alternatively, it might feel like an aura, or perhaps it might be the opposite—a feeling of safety and security.”

“It’s not consistent?”

“It does not take on a form that can be clearly defined as Ouki, no,” Keiki explained.

“But you said that you found your queen through her Ouki.”

“I did. If your liege is not so far away, you can dimly sense their broad location. It feels somewhat like a hunch.”

“A hunch…” Taiki searched his memories. Didn’t he feel as if something was coming before the people gathered at Hoto Palace for the Ascendance? It hadn’t been a pleasant feeling, though. It was as if something bore down upon him—a frightening pressure, he would go as far as to say.

“When you meet your king or queen, you understand that they are the root of that feeling. They have the same type of presence as your hunch.”

“That’s…Ouki?”

“Yes. Ouki is what makes a person stand out clearly among all others. Even if it was something you could see, you cannot describe it in words.” Soothingly, Keiki patted Taiki’s lightly clenched fist. “The divine revelation is the same in that respect. There is no sudden change or transformation. If one really had to describe it, it would be…intuition. Your intuition tells you that this is the person you seek.”

“Intuition…”

Keiki nodded.

“I will be frank with you. When I met the queen of Kei, I knew that she was the one. At the same time, I knew that her personality was unsuited for the throne. I understood that in order for her to obtain what she was lacking as a ruler, it would take much sacrifice and persistent effort.”

“Really…?”

“I knew that she was insufficient…but I did not defy my calling. The divine revelation is so strong a feeling that it cannot be resisted. I suspect that even if a Kirin despised their liege, they would be unable to defy them. It is for this reason that we say that the decision is heaven-sent.”

Taiki felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Gyousou smiling.

Gyousou knew. He had been told of Taiki’s confession…

“The fact that you, a Kirin, chose him,” said Keiki, “is all the proof you need, Taiki.”

3

“I…” ONLY THEN DID TAIKI FEEL THE TENSION IN HIS body finally ease. Slowly, bit by bit, his strength ebbed away from him. “The first time I laid eyes on you, Gyousou-sama, I felt scared…”

“I see.”

“Before you did the Ascendance, I sensed something ominous coming from Reikon Gate…” If that mental association had not been fear but something brighter instead—say, light or hope—Taiki might not have experienced his dilemma. “Even when I found out that you weren’t the kind of person who people feared, I still felt afraid of you the whole time. Even though I knew that you were upright and kindhearted, I couldn’t shake my fear.”

“Is that so?”

“But although there were times when I was scared out of my wits, I was always happy to see you. I got sad when I couldn’t see you. When I heard that you were leaving Mount Hou, I got really, really miserable.”

Keiki nodded. “That is good. There is no such thing as a Kirin who resents their liege’s presence. A Kirin is always despondent when they are apart from their king or queen, for the two must never be separated.”

“Right…”

“Kirin are merely vessels of the heavens. Putting it another way, they have no will of their own. They simply carry out the will of the heavens,” Keiki said.

Taiki nodded. Keiki stroked his head. The warmth of Keiki’s hand brought a proud relief to Taiki’s heart.

“Taiki, you mentioned being afraid of Gyousou-sama. I think I can understand the reason behind that,” the Kirin continued.

Taiki’s breath hitched. “What’s the reason?”

“You were intimidated by him. He inspired awe in you, not fear.”

“Maybe…”

“You were intimidated by your fate.”

Is he right? Taiki wondered as he looked up at Gyousou. Seeing the man’s eyes, Taiki’s thought, Maybe he is.

“You spoke no falsehoods, Taiki. A Kirin by nature is physically incapable of prostrating to anyone but their liege. Your choice in king is indisputable.”

“Uh-huh…”

Keiki peered into the tiny Kirin’s dark eyes. “You would not have experienced such anguish if I had explained everything adequately. I should have stayed at Mount Hou for at least a little longer. It would have saved you grief, Taiki… For that, I am truly sorry.”

“No, it was my fault for jumping to conclusions and not asking the right questions,” Taiki replied.

Keiki smiled at those very Taiki-like words.

“From the bottom of my heart,” Keiki said solemnly, “I wish you well.”

“Thank you very much,” Taiki said.

At last, Keiki saw a smile.

Shifting his gaze from the child to Gyousou, Keiki recalled what happened after Gyousou learned of his Kirin’s confession. To the man who had never wavered, lost his spirit, or uttered a word of reproach—who had looked at Keiki with bright, burning eyes and simply asked, “Am I the king, then?”—Keiki said:

“I also wish you well, King of Tai.”

“My thanks.” Gyousou grinned broadly.

The king of En chimed in. “En sends its regards as well.”

“I am honored to hear that.”

After a pause, the king of En went on, “We dueled once, I recall.”

“You remember that?”

“How could I forget? It’s been ages since anyone took a round off me. I always knew you were cut from a different cloth, but it never crossed my mind that you’d take the throne.”

Gyousou laughed. “Do you wish for another bout?”

“I’m open any time. I’d never turn down a duel from a friend in the trade.”

“King of Tai.” It was Enki who spoke this time, as he sat on the balcony rail, peering down below. “Random question, but what’s with that tacky crap over there?” He pointed at the gazebo, which was visible from the balcony.

The king of En scowled. “Sorry about this guy’s tact deficiency.”

Gyousou smiled, unoffended. Looking at the boy, he said, “That is trash left behind from the previous reign. I was thinking of disposing of it and selling it off for grain. Which reminds me—does En have any surplus grain?”

“Perfect timing, King of Tai,” Enki said with a laugh. “Our grain harvests have been so good this year, we’ve had to lower prices.”

As Taiki watched all of this with a smile on his lips, Keiki nudged his hand. “Will you show me around the garden? I did not get to see much on the last visit.”

“Of course.” Taiki hesitated before adding, “But I really don’t know my way around this place.”

Enki jumped off the balcony. “Then we’re off on an adventure.”

Taiki looked up at Gyousou. “Am I allowed?”

“Go. Just be back by sundown,” Gyousou said. “There will be a banquet, albeit a modest one.”

“Okay.”

Keiki offered Taiki a hand, which he took without hesitation.

“Shall I summon Hankyo and Jyakko?” asked Keiki.

“Is that okay?” Taiki looked up at Keiki.

Keiki smiled. “They won’t mind, since it is a gathering of us Kirin. I’d like to see your Shirei too, Taiki.”

A bright smile lit up Taiki’s face.

“Sure thing!”

Epilogue

Epilogue

“WHEN HIS MAJESTY WALKS TOWARD THE throne, you must prostrate before him. That is the custom,” the Minister of Spring insisted, as if to make doubly sure.

“Okay,” Taiki said, nodding.

The day of the coronation ceremony was upon them.

The stage was the main building of Tai’s provincial office in the capital city of Kouki, nestled at the foot of Mount Kouki. The sprawling open space outside the building was already packed to capacity. The coronation ceremony was an opportunity to unveil the new monarch to foreign guests and citizens alike.

The cries of jubilation could be heard even in the waiting room. The thought that everyone was happy about the new king filled Taiki with a warm glow.

Yesterday was Taiki’s first time going down from Hakkei Palace and seeing the town of Kouki. He met up with Gyousou’s followers from their time at Mount Hou, who had gone on ahead back to Tai via the land route, as well as Keito, who went with them. He also reunited with Hien and Risai, who came to Kouki for the coronation as an attendant of the Jyou provincial lord.

Taiki, Risai, and Gyousou went on a trip together around Zui Province. Taiki marveled at Mount Kouki’s sheer height, did some surreptitious sightseeing around town, and beheld the mysterious springs that people called the “gemstone springs.” Everything seemed strange and unusual to Taiki, leaving him wide-eyed throughout the entire excursion.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Gyousou asked Taiki as a court lady assembled his outfit.

“Yes. I was so worn out that I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed.”

“Good to hear.”

“But that also means I completely forgot everything I was supposed to say…” Taiki confessed.

Gyousou responded with a burst of laughter. “I’m the only one who’s going to hear it anyway.”

“I’m not even sure whether it’ll even reach your ears, Gyousou-sama.” Taiki cocked his head toward the voices outside.

Gyousou did the same, smiling as he did so. “Fair point.”

As he paced around the waiting room, too restless to sit, Taiki muttered the procedure the Minister of Spring had taught him—only to be interrupted by a sudden voice.

“Hey, shortie.”

Taiki hurriedly turned to look at the newcomer. “En-Taiho!”

The court lady launched into a panicked bow. Enki drove her off with a casual wave of his hand. “I came to check in on my neighbor,” he said, bowing toward Gyousou.

Gyousou returned the courtesy with a forced smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you very much, En-Taiho,” said Taiki. “Where’s the king of En?”

“Snug in his VIP seat.” He cast Taiki a look. “You nervous?”

“A little…”

Enki smiled wryly at this honest admission. “Wow, you’re a timid one. And you’re a pipsqueak.”

Gyousou’s smile became even more strained. “Kouri is only ten, after all.”

Enki frowned. “Dunno if I mentioned this before, but that’s some nice naming sense.”

Taiki blushed slightly. “That actually is my name—minus the grass radical.”

“Interesting.”

“By the way, you were born in Hourai too, weren’t you, En-Taiho? What’s your name?”

“Rokuta. No family name. I wasn’t exactly born into the lap of luxury.”

Taiki tilted his head at this. He knew that not everyone had surnames in the distant past, which implied that En’s Kirin was born very long ago.

“When were you born?”

Enki glanced up at the ceiling. “’Bout five hundred years before you.”

“Wait, what?”

Flags fluttered across the nation’s capital. Having grown weary of the previous king’s extravagance, the citizens were immediately impressed by the simplicity of this succession ceremony.

A small child stood by the throne. His hair was of an unusual color, but his positioning marked him unambiguously as a Kirin. An old man explained with a know-it-all air that this was a black Kirin. Although it was not clear what this entailed, the rarity of the phenomenon itself was worthy of pride.

Taiki looked down from the dais at the cheering citizens. Although he found it all very intimidating, he was glad that he felt no guilt from their adulation.

The chief government official took the stage first, followed by Gyousou himself. Cheers shook the plaza.

With slow and composed steps, Taiki walked up to Gyousou on his throne. He knelt. His head lowered with ease, and his forehead touched Gyousou’s feet. Who would have thought that what he found physically impossible to do for the king of En would be so trivially simple here? To be able to fulfill his calling without any pangs of conscience filled him with something like bliss.

The cheering swelled among the dense cluster of citizens.

The king had succeeded the throne.

It was the beginning of a new reign for the Outer Kingdom of Tai.

In the spring of the twenty-second year of the Wagen era, the Saiho contracted Shitsudou and passed from this world. Accordingly, the royal court dissolved within a month, and His Majesty was posthumously given the name of the Lavish King. In the hundred-and-twenty-fourth year of his reign, he was buried in Souryou upon Mount Tappi.

Later that month, a Tai egg sprouted on Mount Hou, yet a Shoku befell the Five Great Mountains before its hatching, tearing it from its branch. The gods and sages searched far and wide for the missing Tai fruit.

In the first month of the thirty-second year, the black Kirin returned to Mount Hou. Yellow flags fluttered across the mortal plane. In the summer, Gyousou Saku entered the Yellow Sea through the Reikon Gate. Upon ascending Mount Hou, he formed a pact with Taiki and entered the Divine Registry as the king of Tai.

Gyousou’s birth surname was Boku, and his given name was Sou. He hailed from Garyou. In his mortal life, he became a general of the Forbidden Troops and presided over the Saku Prefecture of Zui Province. Upon accepting the Mandate of Heaven, he succeeded the throne, heralding the beginning of the Koushi era. Named after his courtesy name, his rule would be known as the Saku king’s reign.

From The Chronicles of Tai, the Saku Book

About the Creators

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Fuyumi Ono is a renowned Japanese novelist known best for her epic fantasy series, The Twelve Kingdoms. Additionally, Ono is known for her work in the horror and mystery genres. In 1988, she attended Otani University in Kyoto, Japan where she honed her craft creating horror and mystery stories as a member of the Mystery Novel Study Group. Her book Tokyo Ibun garnered critical acclaim in 1993 after becoming a finalist for the Japan Fantasy Novel Award, attracting the attention of the literary community. In 2013, she received the Shugoro Yamamoto Award for her novel Zanmei. Ono continues to craft compelling series alongside her husband Yukito Ayatsuji, the acclaimed author of the popular mystery novel The Decagon House Murders.

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

Akihiro Yamada is an acclaimed illustrator and manga artist with forty years of experience turning imagination into brushstrokes. The moment Yamada dropped out of Osaka University of Economics to pursue his true passion of painting, his career took flight. Having quickly caught the publishing industry’s attention, Yamada was invited to illustrate Ryo Mizuno’s Record of Lodoss War and Fuyumi Ono’s The Twelve Kingdoms. Thanks to his unique style combining the looks of historical Chinese and European art, he won the Seiun Award in 1996. Yamada continues to paint by hand today in his illustrations for the newest editions of The Twelve Kingdoms, the mobile game, Fire Emblem Heroes, and his personal art book, The World of Akihiro Yamada.

Books of The Twelve Kingdoms