Chapter 15
Haru
Isat with my back against the wall, watching Esumi sleep. Hours had passed since my conversation with Kon. I hadn’t left Esumi’s side since.
The priests had assured me his wounds would heal. There’d been no poison, only pain. Still, I couldn’t stop watching his chest rise and fall, finding peace in that steady rhythm.
Without thinking, I lifted his hand to my lips, then held it against my cheek. His breathing was all I needed to hear.
“Are you staring at me sleeping again? I’m going to take it personally if you keep that up.”
I startled but didn’t release his hand. His sarcasm told me more about his recovery than any healer’s words ever could.
“You look like a dragon’s asshole,” I said.
“Said the guy batting his eyes at me.”
“If you weren’t lame—”
His grin widened. “What? You’d try to kick my ass?”
“Again. I’d kick your ass again.” I stood, turned my neck until it cracked, and stretched muscles cramped from sitting for hours. “There’s never been a need to try.”
“So, you do want my ass?”
I snorted. “Why do I love you? Please remind me.”
“Who can understand the ways of the heart?” The shimmer in his eyes was all medicine and menace. “It’s a mystery.”
We traded barbs like that for another few minutes before my mood sobered. I checked the door, ensuring we were alone, then sat beside him. He grabbed my hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth across my skin as I explained everything I’d learned:
Father had been murdered.
Kioshi, sent to negotiate, was now missing.
The Asami army was burning its way south.
Oh, and a wakō fleet was now blockading Bara, with sea monsters—actual monsters of legends—dragging ships into the deep.
Kon had saved that last bit until I’d stopped talking of abdication or running from duty. He doubted the veracity of the tales, claiming drunken fishermen were rarely reliable sources of information, but still—
“Wait.” Esumi’s eyes widened. “If something happened to your brother, that means you—”
I nodded slowly.
“You? The Son of Heaven?” He let out a low whistle. “Dear gods, we’re so wrecked.”
“Hey! A little confidence would be appreciated.”
“Listen, Haru, I love you. You know I do. But Emperor? With war breaking out and creatures climbing from the depths of the sea? That would be impossible for anyone, but—”
“Even more so for an idiot like me, right?”
The argument that followed was familiar ground—duty versus desire, public obligation versus private truth. When I mentioned how the pressure for me to produce heirs would intensify, Esumi asked the question I’d been dreading.
“Do you think they know? About us? I mean, do you think your family knows?”
I rolled my eyes.
In the midst of a global crisis that might soon rest on my shoulders, what my family knew or didn’t know about where I sheathed my katana seemed trivial, but I could hold nothing back from Esumi.
“They all know. Of course, they do. My grandmother is old enough not to care about propriety.” I considered the others.
“But Mother? She’s always been obsessed with appearances.
I doubt we will enjoy returning home. In fact, I guarantee the iciest glare ever when you meet her gaze that first time.
You may want to find a back gate to sneak through so you can avoid the whole family reunion. ”
He said nothing.
We each stared into nothing.
After a painful moment, I buried my face in his arm and whispered. “Es, I’m scared. I’ve never been afraid of anything before, but the whole Empire may be counting on me now. I don’t know what to do.”
“You know I’ll do anything to help.” His hand cupped my cheek. “But I don’t know any more about running an empire—or a war—than you do.”
“I think you were right,” I finally admitted.
He grunted, “About?”
“We’re wrecked.”
The next morning, Kon stood at Heiwa’s gates as our greatly enhanced escort prepared to leave.
After the ambush, he’d insisted on adding not a dozen but a hundred soldiers and fifty Yumi Samurai to our numbers.
Our caravan snaked as far as I could see down the winding path; and there we were, near the front, the head of the most awkward, most heavily armored centipede ever to slink its way across Mugen.
It felt strange to ride in silence, more than seven score men winding their way across roads and through passes while barely speaking a word. Even the horses’ tongues remained stilled, rarely snorting or uttering a sound.
The spectacle of gold-and-black Imperial banners beside Yumi’s black-and-gold pennants dropped common folk to their knees as we passed. Their deference made my inadequacy feel even sharper.
My father deserved their worship.
Kioshi did, too.
But I’d earned none of their respect.
For most of my life, I’d barely remained sober long enough to remember the names of those who guarded or served me. The whole thing felt so overwhelming, so . . . royal.
On our second day since leaving the safety of Heiwa’s walls, a commotion near the front of our caravan snapped my mental spiral. Guards sat straighter atop their mounts, expanding their protective ring with katana drawn across their laps in warning.
“We’re approaching Bara,” Esumi said. Then quieter, “I believe your people have come to welcome you home.”
“Stop that,” I hissed. “Kioshi will return.”
He shrugged and spurred his horse, galloping past the front rank of Samurai and disappearing toward the lead scout who reported everything a ri ahead of our column. When he returned a few minutes later, his pale face and fallen features screamed before he could utter a single word.
“Oh, gods, what now?” My voice sounded distant and hollow. “Esumi, just tell me what’s going on.”
“Follow me,” he said, his voice hushed, his eyes darting to nearby guards.
Kaneko and Yoshi watched from behind, but a quick shake of Esumi’s head kept them in line as he led me off the road and away from prying ears. The lead Samurai raised a fist, and the caravan halted to wait for our return.
Esumi led me into a nearby grassy field.
“Whatever it is, just say it.”
Esumi—ever confident and forever sardonic—lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. For the briefest moment, I thought I saw his hand tremble.
I nudged my horse closer and gripped his forearm. “Es, please, what happened?”
He looked up, his hand falling to his side. In his eyes, I saw a terror no ninja or Samurai could ever instill. He sucked in a sharp breath, then spoke words I hoped to never hear.
“Kioshi is dead.”
The world blurred, and I felt my body falling sideways off my mount.
Esumi’s hand shot out to steady me.
Guards still on the road started forward, but Esumi raised a palm to keep them at bay.
“Kioshi?” I whispered. Tears flowed hot and sudden. “No. He can’t be . . . he isn’t . . . I don’t believe it. Es, this can’t be happening.”
Esumi’s head lowered again, though his eyes remained locked on mine. “It’s true, Haru. He barely made it across the border before his party was attacked. His body . . .”
“What about his body?” I heard myself ask, though the words felt foreign and distant.
“The Asami . . . there were messengers. They delivered his head to the palace in a rice sack. His body . . . hasn’t been recovered.”
“They returned him in what?” My heart forgot to beat.
“The priests say he was poisoned, that his tongue . . . that he must’ve been shot with many bolts, though without his body . . . They say he never had a chance. None of them did.”
My mind reeled.
None of this could be true.
It couldn’t be.
Kioshi was my older brother, the better man. He was the one who held us together when the weight of the Empire closed in. He was the brother who protected me, even when my own stupidity and willful disregard threatened to wreck the world around us.
He was so much more than just a crown prince.
He was so much more.
I dismounted and wandered a few strides. Esumi was down and by my side in a heartbeat, the reins of both horses in his hands.
“Haru, we can’t stay here. It isn’t safe, and now . . . with you being—”
“He was everything, Es. Forget the throne and the heavens and the people—Kioshi was a god to me.”
Esumi and I stood there, staring at one another for what felt like forever, surrounded by soldiers and Samurai, their horses braying and shuffling but no one speaking a word. I could feel every eye on me, every questioning gaze, every doubt they felt because, gods damn it, I felt them all, too.
When Esumi reached for me, I pulled back. “We can’t. Not in front of the men. Not now.”
He winced, then nodded, his next words sounding hollow in my ears, daggers piercing my heart. “I know you’re right. You’re . . . him now.”
Before I could process that, Samurai broke rank and thundered forward. “Haru-sama, the Daijokan requests we move into the city with haste. Scouts spotted archers in the forest a quarter ri south of our rear flank and moving quickly.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, muttered a prayer I wasn’t sure I believed, and nodded as I’d seen Kioshi do a thousand times. When my eyes opened, everyone was watching, waiting, weighing, and judging.
No longer was I merely background noise, the rustle of leaves or the constant whisper of waves against the sand.
I now stood at the fore.
I was the light of the sun.
The warmth of the morning’s kiss.
I could hide no longer.
And my heart ached for it.
“Lead on,” I said, desperate for my voice to sound strong and not crack, as Esumi and I remounted and spurred our horses back toward the line.
Yoshi and Kaneko watched as we slipped in before them. Esumi gave them a nod, but said nothing. I kept my eyes forward, chin high, as a royal should—
As the Emperor must.
Gods, I didn’t know what else to do.
Twenty minutes later, the walls of Bara rose before us.
The silence was absolute.
Black-and-gold banners draped the walls like mourning shrouds.
Hundreds—no, thousands of soldiers in funeral sashes lined the causeway.
Beyond them, a countless throng of common folk stood waiting in silence. The only noises were pennants snapping in the wind, the distant thrashing of the sea, and a quickly-hushed baby’s cry.
As I passed the first rank of armored men, they dropped to their knees in waves, laying arms on the ground before them and pressing foreheads to the earth.
Their silence thundered louder than any cheer.
They are mourning Father and Kioshi, I told myself. This isn’t for me. It’s all for them.
But I knew better.
My escort parted at the gates. Esumi and all behind me reined in their mounts.
I rode forward alone.
There, beneath the ancient archway that led into the grandest city the Empire had ever known, stood my entire family in full Imperial regalia.
Uncle Rei’s scowl was visible even behind his war mask.
My other uncles stood to his right.
Mother and my young sister Sakura stood to the left.
My ancient grandmother—who hadn’t left the palace in years—stood waiting for me, her weathered hand clutching the ornate walking stick that rarely left her side.
I dismounted fifty paces from where they stood, my legs barely holding me upright as I strode forward, desperate to look regal despite feeling every bit a fool.
One by one, they kneeled.
My uncles first. Even Rei, after a moment’s defiant glare, lowered himself, his armored helmet finding the underside of his arm as his head bowed and he pressed his forehead to the ground.
Only Mother and Grandmother remained upright.
Aiya’s smile warmed me like summer sun. She gripped Mother’s arm and folded herself down, though her eyes held mine until the last second.
Then Mother.
Her chin lifted as she inspected me, her scowl matching Rei’s. I forced myself to meet her gaze while inside the boy who was never enough wept at her disapproval.
Finally, she bent the knee.
In a sea of humanity cowed before their liege, only I remained upright.
How I did, I may never know.
In that moment of terrible stillness, the clouds parted, and sunlight streamed down, warm across my cheeks.
I gazed skyward, hoping to see the goddess smiling down or some other divine act of blessing or encouragement.
Nothing so grand peered down, though one of the nearby Shinto priests muttered in awe, “Amaterasu’s blessing,” loud enough to be heard across the quiet courtyard.
Uncle Satoshi, Father’s Grand Minister of State, pushed himself upright and bellowed, “Praise Amaterasu, Kami of Light and Queen of Heaven. Praise Izanagi, Father of the Isles.”
His voice caught as his throat bobbed, and his eyes flicked toward the sky, unable to meet mine.
“Praise Akira Haru Tennō, Son of Heaven.”
From their knees, thousands echoed:
“Praise Akira Haru Tennō, Son of Heaven!”