Page 24

Chapter 24

Yoshi

I stared up at the night sky from my perch at Amaterasu’s feet. I couldn’t stop fumbling with my bokken . The practice sword wasn’t supposed to leave the training yard, but something in my gut said I needed it. I ran my fingers across the smooth wood, feeling divots and dents formed by years of practice.

I was proud of those notches. They were mine.

As I daydreamed about my imagined martial prowess, I wondered what it would feel like to wield a real katana , to fight like a Samurai, to take the life of an enemy. I’d witnessed death when the Emperor’s messenger crossed over, but to take a life by my own hand? What would that feel like? Would I witness a man’s spirit fleeing its mortal form? Would his pain become my own? Soldiers of distant wars spoke of such nightmares haunting their dreams. Would my own sleeping visions be tainted by the actions of my sword?

My heart knew I wasn’t ready to use a real katana . The bokken in my hands was almost thicker than my spindly arms.

My grin fell.

“What is it?” Kaneko asked. I’d almost forgotten he sat with his back to the goddess’s legs on the opposite side of the plinth.

“Nothing.”

He nudged me with his elbow. “If it is nothing, why did you stop smiling? And why do you look like that bokken is about to jump out of your lap and run away?”

“Swords only do that in stories.”

“Don’t do that, Yosh. I know you better than anyone. What bothers you? The messenger? The Asami? Your uncle’s terrible sense of humor?”

I grunted an almost laugh. Uncle Takeo was one of the funniest men alive, and we both knew it. Kaneko’s ironic jab carried no weight. Still, he wasn’t wrong. My mind was plagued by ghosts of the past—and the specter of a terrible future to come. “No. Well, maybe they’re part of it. I don’t know.”

“Yosh, you know you can trust me, right?”

“I know. Of course, I know that. It’s just . . . Fine. The Asami sending the first daughter? That’s the same as Father sending me to represent our han . It is the closest thing to an official threat without sending the Daimyo to deliver a blow. They aren’t bluffing, Kaneko. This is bad.”

For a blessed moment, the only sound in the courtyard was the distant rolling of waves against rocks and the whistling of the ever-present wind.

“What do you think?” I finally asked. “The Asami have been trying to grasp power and land for years. Father thinks their troops are stuck in a stalemate and Eiko is searching for allies to unstick them.”

“Huh. Well, if the Asami are stuck, why would we enter the fray on either side? It sounds like the Emperor is secure, and the Asami are stalled.”

“If Katsumi spoke truly and the Asami won over the Cho and Kohana, the Emperor would be in serious trouble.”

“Shit,” Kaneko said. When I didn’t add more, he looked away. “What will your father do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, then thought aloud what I would never ask of my father but harbored in my heart. “What difference would it make if the Asami won? It’s not like the Jade Throne has done anything for us lately, if ever.”

“Yoshi!” He shot to his feet, his whisper now more of a growl. “You are talking about the Emperor, the Son of Heaven himself. It is blasphemy to even think about turning against him—and worse if you think putting Asami in charge would be better. They’re evil.”

Kaneko didn’t care for politics or religion. He made fun of those who swore blind fealty to the Emperor, almost as though he wished we had no Jade Throne. Why he’d risen to defend the Imperial line was beyond my understanding. Did he jest? Was he mocking me? Or was he testing to see if I would tell him what I really thought, as if I ever held anything back from him?

“Evil is a bit strong, don’t you think?”

“Don’t make light of this, Yosh. The Asami are brutal, all of them, even the women— especially their women. As soon as they can hold a bokken , they train to become Samurai. They care little for the Virtues that guide a true Samurai and have no honor beyond blood on their blade.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right, but that only makes this a harder decision. The last thing Father wants is for their blades to turn toward us. He only seeks to protect the Anzu.”

Kaneko sat back down. “I get that, but he may not have a choice. If the Asami get desperate, who knows what they might do?”

“Right,” I muttered half-heartedly.

“That wasn’t what was bothering you, was it?” Kaneko cocked his head. “Talk to me, Yosh, before I beat you with that bokken .”

I barked a laugh. “You wouldn’t hit me. You would never bruise the body you desire above all others.”

“That was unfair. True, but unfair.” His grin widened. “Fine, no beating, but I will keep asking until you give in. You know how persuasive I can be.”

“Annoying is not the same as persuasive.” I chuckled, then turned contemplative once more. “I don’t know, Kaneko. This is all so much. You were there. You saw Father and Uncle receive the Asami. I keep asking myself if I would know how to handle those threats, if I would know how to decide what is right. Hells, I’ve had all day to think on it, and I still don’t know what we should do. I’m not ready for this—any of it.”

Kaneko edged closer so our shoulders pressed together. “He respects you, Yosh. You are his heir. You are the next Daimyo , and he’s proud of you. Besides, your Father is still young. At least, as young as parents can be. You won’t have to worry about any of this for decades.”

I felt Kaneko’s eyes on me as I wrestled with my thoughts. After a long moment, I looked up, my eyes brimming with emotion, and broke the silence.

“That’s just it, Kaneko. I can’t become Daimyo . I can barely hold this stupid bokken without hitting myself.” Kaneko gasped as I tossed the wooden blade to the ground. “I was born weak. I’ll always be weak. There’s nothing Father or anyone else can do to change that. If I tried to lead our han , the people would just laugh.”

I couldn’t remember a time when Kaneko and I hadn’t been close. For most of our eighteen years of life, we’d been inseparable. Yet Kaneko was more than just my friend. He was my lover, my partner, my protector, too. And if anyone needed protecting, it was Anzu Yoshi.

By some jest of the gods, I was born weeks earlier than priests said was healthy. Most expected the First Son of the Anzu to die within days, yet fate—or the gods—demanded more. Still, I knew I was different. I looked at my arms, my nearly concave chest, and saw a broken, shallow shell that would never be good enough to stand in the shadow of my great father, much less take up his sword. Mother and Father had never wavered in their support, but I knew better.

How could the people accept a leader who was so pitifully weak?

Even the Samurai would scoff should I ascend. They lived by a code that demanded unquestionable character and loyalty, but they respected strength. That was something I could never give them.

“Yosh, the people adore you,” Kaneko said, interrupting my downward spiral. “Did you hear them calling after you as we ran through the festival?”

“They just wanted to give me food so my father would honor them.”

Kaneko shrugged. “Maybe that’s part of it, but they really do like you. For you , not who your father is. Why do you think I’ve stood by your side all these years?”

That question caught me off guard.

Why had Kaneko stuck by a weakling?

He’d endured relentless teasing from others for our association. I’d witnessed it. While it made my blood boil, I was too scrawny to even stand up for my best friend.

“My father is Daimyo . The only thing I’m good for is standing next to him.”

Kaneko leaped to his feet and planted fists on his hips.

“ Baka !” he growled the slur. “How dare you say that? You are my best friend, my brother. Hells, you are a lot more than those things to me, Yoshi, and you know it. You are everything . I stand by your side because I love you and choose to be with you. That has nothing to do with your father or the sword he bears.”

I was struck by the fire raging in his voice and something else—pain?

Had I hurt him with my words? I was only saying what was in my heart.

I looked up into his eyes and watched his lips quiver. I’d never seen Kaneko shaken, but there he was, tears threatening to spill from reddened eyes.

“Well? Are you going to say anything or just sit there staring at me like an idiot?”

“I’m sorry, Kaneko. I am an idiot,” I said. “I would never hurt you. You know that. I probably wouldn’t have survived this long without you.”

“That is true,” he teased as his posture relaxed. “I believe in you, Yoshi. I just wish you did.”

“Me, too,” I mumbled, staring at the stones of the square and my discarded bokken .

Asami Katsumi stood before Father with her feet and shoulders squared. Her right hand twitched against the pommel of her katana , gripping and releasing, a clear slight and near-challenge to her host.

“What is your answer, Daimyo ? You have had a night and a morning to think and consult. The Asami would have your pledge.”

Takeo practically vibrated with rage.

Father’s back stiffened as he spoke in a measured tone. “The Anzu offer no pledge. We have no quarrel with the Asami—or the Emperor. We wish only to live in peace and be left out of the machinations of the mainland.”

No one spoke.

Katsumi glared.

I barely breathed.

Finally, Katsumi nodded once.

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as the tension in the room eased. Even Takeo’s shoulders lowered slightly, and the creases around his eyes smoothed.

Father made to rise from his seat but stopped cold at the sound of metal being drawn.

He looked up, and his eyes widened.

Katsumi had unsheathed her katana and pointed it toward him.

No one had ever threatened Anzu Hiroki Daimyo —certainly not in his own home. The action would cost others their heads before they had time to leave the chamber. It might still cost Katsumi hers if Father lost control.

The room exploded as the Samurai lining the walls drew their blades and formed a ring around our Asami guest. Takeo stepped in front of his brother and drew his own blade.

Katsumi looked into Takeo’s angry eyes and laughed, a shrill, grating sound that held no joy. With a flick of her wrist, her katana flew from her hand and embedded itself into the floor a few inches below the first step of the dais. The pommel wobbled wildly before settling.

Her meaning was clear.

If the Anzu would not commit, the Asami considered them an enemy.

“I was hoping you would refuse, you arrogant bakayarō .” She scanned the audience chamber as men gaped at her calling their leader an asshole. “I look forward to seeing you again, Hiroki- san . I hope you enjoyed your festivities. The next parade down your streets will be far less pleasant.”

Samurai edged backward to let her pass as she spun and stormed out of the chamber.

Takeo sheathed his katana only after she vanished from view. “You should’ve let me gut her, brother.”

Father rested a hand on his shoulder. “She is the first daughter of the Asami. That would have ensured war. Katsumi is young and angry. She is trying to prove herself. There is still a chance her mother may see reason.”

“Reason?” Takeo spat. “Brother, we are at war! How can you be so calm? The only question is whether we bolster our defenses and protect our land or join the Emperor in his fight on the mainland. Have you decided how you will answer Heaven’s plea?”

Father eyed his brother.

There hadn’t been a hint of sarcasm in his voice when referring to the Emperor in heavenly terms, something far from normal for my irreverent uncle.

“No. I planned to call the council to discuss it in a week or two, but it looks like we need to resolve this now. And, brother, I am calm because I am Daimyo . If I lose myself—” He turned to me, unable to finish the thought he dared not share with anyone. “Yoshi- san , send word to the council members still in town to assemble here tonight.”

My eyes shot up. “Father?”

Father straightened and gave me a stern glare, as if addressing one of his Samurai or councilmen. “It is past time for others to see you lead. Go. Do as I command.”

I dropped to both knees, pressed my forehead to the dais, and stammered, “Yes, Father . . . I mean, Daimyo . . . Hiroki- sama .”

Father chuckled. “Go!”

I rose and bowed one last time as Father reached down and pulled Katsumi’s katana from the wooden floor. He turned the blade and examined the hilt, then he looked up at Takeo. “Send word to every Samurai on the island to assemble here in three days. Whether we are defending or sailing to the Emperor’s aid, there is no time to lose.”