Page 18

Chapter 18

Yoshi

I stood among the survivors of the Trials, each of us clad in white robes embroidered with crimson thread—the color of sacrifice. My head ached from the relentless challenges. My muscles were stiff beneath the elegant silk.

But it wasn’t the physical toll that weighed on me most.

It was the empty space beside me.

A lacquered platform rose ahead, its steps flanked by banners bearing the Emperor’s sacred chrysanthemum. Behind the platform, the temple’s torii gate loomed, its columns and arch polished to reflect Amaterasu’s rays.

A row of priests stood on the other side, silent and observant. Each wore a formal robe in shades of white, light blue, or violet. Their sokutai were made of loose-fitting and wide-sleeved silk, symbolizing purity and simplicity. On their heads rested the traditional eboshi , black hats made from stiffened cloth or silk, the height of each representing the respective rank of the man in his priesthood.

The courtyard had been transformed since I’d last seen it.

Rows of silk banners fluttered along marble walls, each embroidered with gold kanji representing each of the five virtues: Honor, Strength, Wisdom, Humility, and Endurance. Perfumed incense burned in massive braziers, their tendrils of smoke swirling skyward like ethereal prayers. Drummers lined the square’s perimeter, their mallets poised over stretched skin drums painted with the Imperial dragon.

I lifted my eyes to the steps where the Grand Minister would soon appear. Assembled parents, friends, and citizens of Tooi whispered soft words to one another, nervous and excited.

We had survived.

We had endured.

We had proven ourselves worthy.

And yet . . .

The memory of Soga’s fall haunted me.

Soga had been brash and bullheaded. He challenged everything and questioned everyone. His temper flared like dry grass catching fire. But beneath that stubbornness was a heart that cared, the soul of a warrior. He never left a teammate behind—though I worried, in the moment, that he might.

And now he was gone.

I clenched my hands into fists.

“He walks with the ancestors now,” Kaneko had said when we’d dragged ourselves back to the castle that night. “He gave what was required.”

I hadn’t responded. My heart rebelled at the notion that Soga’s death was merely a toll paid on the path to our graduation.

The banners stirred as a gust of wind swept through the courtyard. The scent of rain deepened, the skies darkened, and the temple bells tolled. The crowd beyond the courtyard’s walls stilled, and a hush fell over everyone, as the great doors creaked open.

The Grand Minister emerged first, his robes black and crimson, embroidered with golden constellations. His tall headdress glinted in the muted light. Behind him came six attendants bearing lanterns shaped like dragon eggs, their glow pale and steady. Last came the Emperor, robed in deep crimson with golden dragons curling about his chest and snaking down his sleeves. Beside him slithered Nawa, her bronze scales gleaming, even without the sun’s rays.

The creature’s gaze met mine, and I felt her presence brush against my mind—cold, vast, and ancient.

“You have taken the first steps, Yoshi.” Her voice resonated within me, deep and discomforting. “Your path unfolds beneath your feet.”

I inhaled sharply, the weight of those words settling in my chest. My thoughts raced.

What path? Why did emperors and priests—and apparently dragons—have to be so damned cryptic? Why couldn’t they simply say what they mean?

The Grand Minister ascended the steps to the dais and lifted a jade scepter high above his head.

The drums began their thunderous beat:

BOOM-BOOM. BOOM-BOOM.

The rhythm matched the pounding of my heart.

“By decree of the Son of Heaven, His Divine Imperial Majesty, Akira Takashi- heika Tennō ”—the Grand Minister’s voice carried across the courtyard—“you who have endured the sacred Trials are summoned. Step forward.”

We stepped as one.

“Our Trials test more than strength,” the Grand Minister continued. “They test heart, mind, and soul. You three stood in the shadow of death and did not falter. You lost a comrade yet pressed forward. This is the way of our people. This is the way of honor.”

The drums ceased with a final crash.

Silence roared.

“The name of the fallen will be etched into the shrine’s stones so he may be remembered by every generation that follows,” the Grand Minister said.

Soga’s face appeared in my mind. His crooked grin after our first Trial when we collapsed in the mud, laughing. His furious bark of protest whenever Kaneko or I proposed a plan. His silence when he realized he couldn’t succeed alone.

The Grand Minister raised his scepter again, and the attendants carrying lanterns moved forward. Each one placed their lantern in front of us, aligning them with the jade pendants we now wore. Mine pressed cool fire into the skin of my chest.

“Today, each of you crosses the threshold,” he declared. “You are no longer children. You are men and women of Mugen. You are the Empire.”

A collective breath passed through us. The words struck like a gong.

We are the Empire.

I had attended Trials each year for as long as I could remember. Never before had such words been spoken, certainly not from the mouth of the Emperor’s own. What did they mean? Why did our Trial feel so much more significant than those rites of the past? What made our year different from generations past?

The attendants stepped closer, unspooling silk ribbons from their waists. Each ribbon bore the Imperial sigil in black ink. They tied the ribbons to our wrists, binding us symbolically to our duty.

“The path unfolds beneath your feet,” Nawa’s voice repeated in my mind.

I fought to keep from startling under so many gazes.

The dragon’s words felt like more than a simple admonition. But what, for the love of the gods, did they mean? I had only just been declared an adult, a man, and I had barely earned that right. My mind was strong, but my body remained weak. I was barely a boy living in a backwater town in a faraway province. What use could one such as I be to the Emperor or his Empire?

“Not even the gods know the worth of a single man, Yoshi-san,” Nawa rumbled.

The Emperor, standing behind the Grand Minister, extended his hand toward us.

He said nothing. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was command enough.

We fell to our knees and offered His Imperial Majesty our ultimate homage.

The drums beat once more, and the ceremony ended.

Fireworks burst overhead, golden and red, some forming dragons, others phoenixes.

The crowd erupted.

The shrine’s bells rang in jubilant chorus as priests used their magic to send blossoms into the air in an endless flow of brilliant, living confetti. Family members rushed to embrace their loved ones.

I stood still, cradling the pendant.

A hand settled on my shoulder. I turned to find Kaneko beside me.

“You made it,” he said, grinning and bumping my shoulder with his.

“ We made it,” I replied, my voice hollow.

His brow quirked, then his smile faltered, recognition dawning. “Soga would’ve been proud.”

I nodded, unsure if that was true.

Would he have seen pride in our survival or scorned the cost?

The rain began to fall again, soft and cool against my skin. I tilted my face to the sky, letting the droplets mix with the salt of unshed tears.

What path have I begun? I wondered.

“You walk the path of guardians and sacrifice,” came the voice of Nawa, unbidden and unmistakable. “Loss is the price, yet you must walk on.”

I squeezed the pendant in my fist. The stone dug into my palm.

Why did Soga have to die? I asked, uncertain if Nawa would answer.

“His death was the weight that balanced the scale of your survival. Death is neither fair nor just, Yoshi. It simply is.”

Anger surged through me. That is not enough.

“It never is.”

The rain thickened, drumming against the stones of the courtyard. Kaneko slipped away to join his family, leaving me alone. I turned toward the shrine, where the names of the fallen were etched. I pictured Soga’s name joining the others.

“I will remember you,” I whispered. “And I will honor what you gave.”

The wind shifted, carrying the faintest scent of dragon fire.

The jade pendant warmed against my skin.

A path stretched before me, if only in my mind. It was shrouded in mist.

I knew not where it led, but I strode forward, nonetheless.