Koshun was sitting in the Koshi Palace—which was located inside the inner court—listening to Shin’s news. All of the doors were shut to keep out the chilly outdoor air, and the sole source of light was the dim winter sunlight that shone through the lattice windows. The area in which the imperial palace lay only saw snow a handful of times each winter, and the snow very rarely settled. Compared to the northern extremities of the country, people had it remarkably easy here, with heavy snowfall only arriving once every few years—if that. Even so, for those who were born and raised in the area and had never lived elsewhere, this was what a cold winter felt like.
“I understand,” said Koshun. “Thank you for your hard work. You were burdened with a difficult task. I apologize for that.”
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t… I deeply appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
Shin looked undeniably exhausted—and unsurprisingly so. Koshun instructed him to get some good rest, then let him go.
Koshun leaned all the way back in his seat. Every time he had to punish someone—like he’d had to do with Choyo—it left him feeling heavy-hearted, as if there was something weighty in his chest dragging him down.
“Sei, could you open the door slightly? It’s stuffy in here.”
“Of course, my lord,” Eisei immediately responded, opening one of the doors to the side of the palace building.
The wind blew in, and the banners hanging from the ceiling gently rustled against one another. The room was brighter now. Koshun let out a small sigh.
Shogetsu had already told him what had happened on Je Island. First of all, he was simply relieved to hear that nothing disastrous had happened—particularly that no islands had sunk in the fallout. The Ikahi Island incident had been hanging in the back of his mind, and he had mentally prepared himself for the worst-case scenario—that history would repeat itself.
The Raven had gotten her missing half back, and Jusetsu had been freed. There was nothing holding Jusetsu back anymore.
She could go wherever she liked. She could spread her wings and travel anywhere she so wished.
Koshun had a feeling he knew which path she was going to take.
He closed his eyes and smelled the breeze. I wonder if some of this air drifted here from the sea, he thought to himself.
Kajo’s lamp flickered in the darkness of the night, prompting her to lift her gaze abruptly. There was a scroll open on the desk—one she’d borrowed from the Koto Institute. Her plan had been to finish reading it that night. Since it was the early hours of the morning, Kajo was the only person in the room. Her ladies-in-waiting had long been dismissed.
Kajo rose to her feet and opened the door. The hanging lanterns were lit, ensuring that the surroundings remained fairly illuminated even in the dark of night. Realizing that there was a figure standing at the bottom of the palace building’s stairs, Kajo gasped, momentarily taken aback—but she soon let out a sigh of relief. A surge of elation soon followed.
“Amei! You’re back!”
It was Jusetsu. She was dressed in her men’s robes and her hair had been roughly gathered in a ponytail, but it was still—without a shadow of a doubt—her. Onkei was kneeling down beneath a nearby tree, keeping watch.
“Only a few moments ago,” said Jusetsu, a slight smile appearing on her face.
Kajo hurried down the steps and took Jusetsu’s hand. It was extremely cold, but this was hardly surprising—it was very chilly outside.
“Please, do come in. You must be freezing out here.”
“It’s all right,” said Jusetsu. “I’m fine.”
Jusetsu placed her other hand on top of Kajo’s, sending a flood of emotion searing through Kajo’s veins.
“Amei…”
“Thank you for taking care of Kogyo and Keishi for me. Have they settled in well?”
“Yes… Don’t worry, they have. They’re both hard workers, so everybody’s become quite fond of them.”
“I’m glad. You’ll have to excuse my impertinence, but do you think you’d be able to continue to make use of them?”
Kajo stared into Jusetsu’s eyes. The younger woman’s gaze was noticeably calm.
“O-of course…” Kajo replied with a nod, stumbling over her words slightly. “Is it all over now? Are you free, amei?”
“Yes,” Jusetsu replied.
“I see. You’re leaving then, I assume.”
Jusetsu simply smiled.
“What about your role as the ritual coordinator?” Kajo then asked.
“I’m never going to be able to hear any god’s voice ever again, so I’m not fit for such a post. Someday, somebody will develop the abilities required for the role—don’t worry.”
She’d said that somebody would develop the skills needed, not that somebody would one day appear. This implied to Kajo that “somebody” was already around.
“Right…”
Kajo didn’t know how to verbalize what she wanted to express. All she knew was that she didn’t want to let go just yet.
As if she knew what Kajo was thinking, Jusetsu said in an easygoing tone of voice, “I’m thinking of becoming a sea merchant, Kajo.”
“What?!” Kajo explained. “Well, well…”
She was surprised, but she didn’t find the idea that outlandish. It was easy to imagine Jusetsu traveling freely over the wide-open sea, journeying from one place to another.
“That’ll suit you perfectly, I’m sure. But why a sea merchant, of all things?”
“It started when I met your father, I suppose…” Jusetsu began. “He was such a great help to us. If he hadn’t gotten his boat out for us, we never would have made it to Je Island. I’m so grateful.”
“My father?” Her father’s face appeared in Kajo’s mind’s eye. It was hard for her to imagine him carrying out an act of charity.
“He did it because he knew I was friends with you. It’s thanks to you that I was saved.” Jusetsu suddenly smiled, as if she just remembered something. “Chitoku takes your shoes with him as a lucky charm when he’s out at sea. A pair of shoes that you used to wear as a little girl.”
Kajo’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. She couldn’t believe that her father would do such a thing.
She’d convinced herself that her father had long forgotten about her existence. After all, he never sent any letters. Kajo herself only ever wrote to his right-hand man, thinking that if she were to write to her father directly, he wouldn’t even bother reading it.
Stunned by the realization that she was in fact on her father’s mind, Kajo muttered, “I see…” and then promptly clammed up.
“Your father is going to teach me all there is to know about being a sea merchant. One day, you may find me delivering a gift or two to your palace.”
“Perhaps.”
Sea merchants arrived bearing gifts for Kajo almost every day, after all.
“I’ll be looking forward to that.” Kajo squeezed Jusetsu’s hand tight. She never wanted to forget her warmth.
“Have you met with His Majesty?” she eventually asked.
“I’m heading there next.”
“I take it I’m the first person you’ve visited, then. I’ll make sure His Majesty never hears the end of that,” Kajo replied with a giggle.
Jusetsu smiled back at her. “I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, I really am,” she said. “Keep well, won’t you…aje?”
With that, Jusetsu turned back the way she’d come. Kajo followed after her for one or two paces, then brought herself to a halt.
“Amei…!”
No matter how much she’d begged, Jusetsu had not once called Kajo “aje”—not until now, during their final encounter.
Kajo stood frozen to the spot as she watched Jusetsu disappear into the distance. Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears.
Before making her way to the inner court, Jusetsu began walking in the direction of the Yamei Palace. Now uninhabited, the structure blended inconspicuously into the darkness of the night.
Jusetsu opened its doors and went inside, holding aloft a candle Onkei had offered her. She opened the cabinet in the corner of the room and lifted up the candle to help her see its contents.