The breeze got colder and stronger as Yukimi ascended the mountain in the night, making her silver-cloth cloak flow like water behind her. The path had become thin and then steep as she approached the rock face, where she then had to climb instead of walk. The coolness of the air should have made her tighten her cloak around her shoulders, but she enjoyed the freshness of the breeze, feeling the icy wind slither up her lithe, pale legs. Her light frame was decked with a tight-fitting but flexible tunic of white linen that just covered her shoulders but left her arms exposed, and only covered the top half of her thighs so that she could move her legs around freely. She wore grey plimsolls on her small feet, which had waxed soles to give them a greater grip on the walls; on her hands, she had fingerless gloves of darkest blue, and around her neck hung a small pendant of sapphire on a silver chain. She had long, straight hair which was silky and fine and seemed like silver in the chill moonlight, flowing like her cloak behind her.
Grant me wisdom, grant me strength, she prayed, closing her eyes as she climbed by touch alone. The cold, pale light of the moon was deceiving and if she used its light to find her way up she could mistakenly grip a loose rock and fall to her death. Instead, her soft fingers stroked along each crevice, each jutting rock, testing its weight before lifting herself up with speed and grace, moving up the cliff like a mysterious mist. Shortly, her hand found the top of the cliff and she risked opening her eyes as she peered over the lip of the cliff: Da'Chao stood before her. The moon behind her, she paused for a moment to take in the elegant sculpturing of the great statue, admiring for the hundredth time its sheer size and its frozen majesty. Up here, the winds were high and only the determined could touch the feet of Da'Chao. Thank you, she told him in silent prayer, flicking her silver hair aside to see her god better.
Eventually she clambered up to the flat ground and walked slowly towards the stone body of the god, who watched over all Wutai in times of need or plenty. Kneeling, she bent down and closed her eyes, kissing the foot of Da'Chao and then clasping her hands together in meditation.
Her thoughts swirled all about her. Her mind was thick with stress, confusing her, clouding her wisdom and blinding her from enlightenment. Yet there was also hope, optimism, creativity…yes, she thought, I am still whole. Reaching with her willpower for the glimmer of glory in her heart, Yukimi took her breath slowly and released it with care, preserving the moment, grasping in her mind the shard of hope. The stress in her mind was weak, and did not touch her soul, and almost immediately she felt her spirit being lifted. There was something deeper in her heart, something darker and more beautiful even than hope; that was sorrow, and she had no desire to touch it, for it was the very core of her soul. It must be kept whole, Yukimi told herself. It must be strong for when I return to the planet. As the tension at the fore of her mind dissipated and her mood brightened, she opened her eyes slowly, almost daring to smile.
She felt cold from the demanding wind at her back, and her muscles and fingers ached from the long climb up to Da'Chao. But she felt at peace, and for a long time remained knelt before her god in perfect silence. There was a footstep behind her.
Yukimi shot to her feet and turned sharply, tensing suddenly as she looked at the newcomer. It was a young woman, who could not have been much older than her own seventeen years, dressed in a long, flowing dress of light blue silk and with her soft white hair resting on her shoulders, for the breeze had died down. She was petite, with thin shoulders and a slim waist, but her body had a figure of exquisitely sculpted feminine curves that, like her curious white hair, gave her a look of maturity about her. Who are you? Yukimi thought. She stood warily, but curtseyed politely all the same.
'I am Yukimi, Princess of Wutai,' she said firmly. The girl nodded and smiled shyly, and the low light of the moon made her eyes twinkle. Yukimi could not see into them in the darkness.
'I am Sora,' the newcomer replied. The breeze lifted for a moment, lightly shifting her snow-coloured hair before going silent once again. She bowed low. 'Forgive me, my Princess,' Sora said, and Yukimi noted that her voice was wispy and quiet, like a breath of cool, refreshing air. 'I had thought to pray here alone.' Suddenly Yukimi felt slightly ashamed, and was thankful for the darkness for otherwise this subject would have seen her blush. My status…ruins everything, she thought privately. All the friendships I could have, all the beautiful, colourful characters I should be able to know and love. A princess must be aloof.
But all the same…
'No, Sora,' Yukimi said to her gently, relaxing her posture. 'Under the gaze of Da'Chao…we are all mortals.' Clumsily, she smiled to soften her words, and the look of vague disappointment on Sora's face evaporated. Sora bowed again, biting her lip as if trying to weigh up her words with utmost care.
'You are kind and wise, my Princess,' she said with a smile, serene and mysterious. With what most of the royal court would consider scandalous cheek, Sora turned away and knelt before the foot of Da'Chao, saying no more as she began to meditate silently. Brave, Yukimi thought with a pang of admiration. I wonder who this woman is, who is not cowed by the arrogance of the royal family. But Yukimi slowly stepped away to allow the peculiar girl her peace. She swung herself over the edge of the cliff and began to climb down, and as she paused to catch her breath she thought that she could hear a quiet sob, carried on the wind.
Emperor Katashi and his empress, Chiyo, had ruled Wutai with leadership wise and fair for nearly twenty seven years. They were loved by all, and Wutai had prospered in those glorious years of their reign. Two children were theirs; a son, Taro, who was now twenty one, and a daughter, Yukimi, who was seventeen, and now Emperor Katashi decided it was time for his children to do their first duty to their country: to defend its people.
For perhaps seven years now, the land had been upset by the Raiders – an unknown race of people whose numbers were few but whose bloodthirstiness and selfishness were vicious and infamous. They had been confined to small pockets of unrest in the far south of the continent, but now Wutai's greatest general, the heroic Yuudai, was forced to retreat to the great South Fortress. Katashi held the letter in his hand as he read it to his children, stroking his forked grey beard as he did so and pacing restlessly in front of his throne.
'"…as such, I implore your Majesty to send more troops. Without the protection of our armies, the Harvest will fail and Wutai's granaries will not last the whole winter. I remain your loyal subject, General Yuudai."' The Emperor folded the letter carefully and gently held it in his right hand as he turned to face Taro and Yukimi. 'It is time my children learned the art of war,' Katashi said firmly, his voice still strong for his age. 'Taro, you will lead the Dragon Guard; five hundred men, all picked as the finest warriors of our nation. Your second in command is Nobu, who is a great friend of General Yuudai. You must let him advise you, my son, and you must heed his counsel. I have great faith in him.' Taro, stifling an excited grin at being given such a prestigious command, bowed low and stepped back.
Katashi turned now to Yukimi, who stood with proud posture but nervously wrung her hands behind her back. 'Beautiful daughter,' he said, his voice a little gentler, 'there are many perils in this world, and should your brother return to the planet without an heir you will inherit the empire. A woman can govern a country as well as any man, but it takes a warrior to defend it from enemies. You will also travel south to serve under Yuudai, for there are valuable lessons of leadership and courage which I think you have yet to learn.' Yukimi thought for a moment that she could see a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he blinked almost as suddenly as she spotted him, and continued: 'I leave command of the Blue Regiment to you, my daughter; two hundred men, all well versed in the song of war. Your second-in-command is a man named Isamu. Do not fear him, for whatever his appearances he is of a kind heart and strong spirit. He knows how to lead soldiers, so observe all that you see, and pray that his wisdom will clothe your own dear spirit.' Isamu once murdered a man, father, she desperately wanted to say, but bit her lip and, like her brother, bowed and stepped away from the throne's steps.
'Father,' Taro began, but Katashi raised a hand quickly.
'Say nothing. Act. I do not want your thanks, this is your duty. And as for your concerns…' he paused, sighing. 'You should address those alone, if you are to learn the discipline of courage. Go with the blessing of Da'Chao, my children, and with the blessing of your father.'
Yukimi sat atop the Glade of Secrets in the royal gardens. The royal gardens were, for the most part, carefully manicured and offered an attractive place to look at – Taro's betrothed, Hitomi, often walked their neatly trimmed paths of grass. But out on the edge, there was a hill which the gardeners were never ordered to touch, for it was said that in the days of the Cetra two lovers fought against an evil invader from the north atop that hill, defending the land from destruction. Though they won in the end, the two lovers, whose names and deeds were lost to time, were both mortally wounded and returned to the planet in the Glade of Secrets, where the magic of the Lifestream was rumoured to still linger, becoming a sacred, untouchable part of the Emperors' land.
I would be those people, thought Yukimi. I would, save for there is no evil from the north assailing my land, and I have no lover in this perfect garden to share an end with. She sat cross-legged, balancing her katana on one finger and flicking it up into the air before catching the flat of the blade once again on her finger, still perfectly balanced. She flicked back her head in a quick movement, tossing aside her flowing silver hair. A cold colour for young hair, she thought. Taro's hair is rich and thick and brown, and though it feels coarser there seems to be more life in it. More fun.
'If you twirl that any harder you'll go curly,' Taro's mocking voice said from behind her. She realised that she had been twisting her hair between her fingers without noticing and stopped instantly, looking over her shoulder and smiling. Taro was dressed in the red and gold armour of the Dragon Guard, and had his long katana sheathed at his side in a bronze scabbard.
'You look like you've worn armour for years,' she said, turning around to face him. He sat on the grass in front of her and grinned.
'And you look like armour doesn't very much suit you.'
'I'm not wearing any armour.' Yukimi was wearing a dark blue silk dress and had snowdrop petals woven into a wreath on her crown.
'Indeed, and there's not a hope in the world that I can conjure up an image of you dressed for battle without breaking into fitful laughter.' She wrinkled her nose.
'I'm more dangerous than I look,' she warned, though she knew he could see the ironic smile at the corner of her mouth.
'I believe it, sister, for you're the canniest sneak I know. But I don't fancy your chances against those grizzly Raiders, standing a foot taller than you and holding the heaviest, most monstrous swords in the world, and about to swing it down and cut you in two.'
'Charming.' Yukimi stuck her tongue out at him. 'Anyway, the Blue Regiment armour is much lighter. They're all about speed, so we can leave the bludgeoning to filthy brutes like you.'
'Equally charming,' Taro muttered with a smirk. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, and then Yukimi stood up, offering her small hand to help him up. Taking it, he chuckled sardonically as she struggled to take his weight, lifting him to his feet with a great effort that made the muscles in her thin arms ache afterwards. 'Thank you, dear sister.' He grinned once more, then walked away. Yukimi waited awhile, still frustrated by her unfulfilled yearning to touch the spirits of the Cetra in the Glade of Secrets, but eventually tore herself away from their unreachable magic and left to find her armour, and her Blue Regiment.
It was not until the next day that she was introduced to her second-in-command, Isamu. The two companies had assembled just outside the city of Wutai and the road southward was lined with men, women and children who had gathered to watch the small army leave. There are thousands of them, Yukimi thought in mild shock at suddenly being the centre of attention. She was dressed in the light leather armour of the Blue Regiment and was standing alongside Isamu, who towered at least a foot over her small frame. He was big, but his movements were by no means clumsy; there was a deftness to his hands and a calmness in his walk which made Yukimi both fear him and be glad for his company – for his infectious good humour was very similar to Taro's.
'Ever killed a man, my Princess?' he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the buzz of the crowd. Yukimi shook her head. God, no. That isn't my place.
'No, captain. Never.' Isamu nodded, drawing his katana from his hip. He held it up so that the sunlight glinted off the blade, then with practiced deftness swung it in a lightning-quick arc downwards, spinning its handle around the back of his hand once before catching it and looking at her with his honest brown eyes.
'Killing a foe in battle is very different to committing murder,' he said gruffly. You'd know, she thought uncomfortably, but nodded politely. 'In battle both sides are consenting combatants, whatever cause has forced them to the fight. There is a fierce energy one possesses in battle – or maybe it possesses you – and you kill like animal, not caring who it is that feeds your blade. It is only afterwards, and I mean hours later, that you are seized by fear. Fear of your own mind, perhaps, or how close you may have come to death in the fight.' He paused, sheathing his katana and looking around at the crowds for a moment before continuing in a low voice. 'Now, killing a man in cold blood…then, you suffer not just fear, but also guilt.' He turned to face her and his mighty gaze was terrifying in its honesty, and Yukimi dared not even blink as he spoke. 'Guilt before the crime; are you doing the right thing? Guilt as your victim stops breathing and returns to the planet. And then guilt through all the dreadful years afterwards, even if the act was justified.' He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. 'It takes immense bravery to murder. More than any mortal can handle.' He looked at her once again. 'Fight your enemies for as long as they exist, my Princess,' he said firmly now, 'but never murder.' He remained staring at her and Yukimi grew increasingly uncomfortable for it. She gulped quietly, trying to think of something to fill the silence.
'You think there is courage in murder?' she asked at last. Isamu smiled, his gaze at last softening as he looked away. Then he nodded.
'Aye, I do. At least for anyone with a conscience. I obey my conscience, my Princess.'
Just as Yukimi began to doubt her original thoughts that Isamu was a cold-blooded killer, the Horn of Wutai blew. Katashi was standing atop the Seat of the Watch, a tall grey stone which sat beside the road and offered a view of the road as it stretched southward through the wide plain towards the mountains. Taro walked at the front of the column with his officers, and the Dragon Guard marched behind him. As soon as they had begun to move, Yukimi drew her katana from her side and held it in the air, beginning the march of the Blue Regiment. She faced forwards and ignored the crowd, feeling uncomfortable by their cheering.
Stop treating me like a hero, I haven't done anything, she felt like screaming. She kept her eyes to the front. There are so many of them…I never asked for this. I would give so much just to be one of their number. All the same, she held her head high and tried not to squint as a headache began to trouble her. She saw that Taro was waving to the crowds and had moved to the side to talk with some of them, laughing and joking, and looking as if he had never had such a good time in his life. How I envy you, brother. Had I ambition, I might be more like you.
The cheering and applauding of the mob died down as they began to leave the city of Wutai behind them, and Yukimi kept quiet all that time. She said not a word for hours, throughout the entire march, until they made camp just before the Red Bridge – the great rope bridge which went over the Red Canyon, so-called for the amount of blood spilt down there in a battle long ago. When her tent was made, she was tempted to go straight to bed and try to reconcile her stressed mind with meditation or sleep. But just as she began head towards it she stopped suddenly as two of her soldiers walked in front of her, carrying a throwboard and a set of dice.
'My Princess,' the two of them murmured, bowing. Stop it! I'm not above you!
'Good evening,' she said, offering a shy smile. The two young men looked at each other for a moment, then the one on the right, who had long black hair and a closely trimmed beard, showed her the throwboard. He grinned rather sheepishly.
'Care to cast dice with us, my Princess?' he asked, and the subtle biting of his lip made it clear that he knew she was going to turn it down. He's showing his cheek as a dare, she realised. Two can play that game.
'If you would teach me, soldier, I would be delighted.' She offered a smile which looked confident, though she struggled not to laugh at the hesitation in the man's expression. The other soldier, who was tall and had an experienced, mature look about him, chuckled to himself, looking down at his feet.
'Forgive my brother, my Princess,' he said. 'His name, since he forgot to tell you, is Osamu; and mine is Tsubasa.' Yukimi nodded and could not resist smiling this time. I don't think I'll need to introduce myself, she thought wryly.
'Many thanks to you then, Osamu, for inviting me to your game.' This time she laughed aloud as his face turned to utter bemusement.
'This way, my Princess,' said Tsubasa. Yukimi was quite content to follow as she was led to a small gap between two tents where a bonfire burned and four other men sat. They greeted Osamu and Tsubasa cheerfully, but stood up and bowed hastily when they saw Yukimi, who sighed inwardly. 'Our Princess has asked us to teach her the game of dice,' Tsubasa said, and though there was a silent glance shared between the others they nodded and sat back down. Osamu took off his cloak and folded it twice, placing it on the dusty floor and gesturing grandly to it.
'A seat for my Princess,' he said with what Yukimi began to recognise as characteristic cockiness. Nodding in clumsy thanks, she sat cross-legged on the cushion of his thick cloak of wolf fur, and Tsubasa laid out the throwboard. Osamu sat beside Yukimi and when she looked up she blushed when he winked at her. I ought to be aloof…
'The throwboard, my Princess,' Tsubasa began with a light gesture at the board, 'has a simple layout – seven concentric circles, with the innermost scoring seven points and the outermost scoring only one point. Quite simply, you cast three dice from the pot onto the board, and then multiply the number on the dice depending on where it lands – so if I cast a die onto the central circle and it yields five points, that's-'
'Five times seven,' Yukimi said. 'Thirty-five.' Tsubasa smiled.
'Excellent, my Princess,' he said with a respectful nod. 'And you do the same count for all three dice. The highest score wins the round.'
'Is it gambling, then?' she asked.
'Oh yes, my Princess,' said Osamu with a wry smirk threatening to dominate his face. 'Though we have little money to pass around at the moment, so we often gamble our wine ration or a whetstone…sometimes a woman, too,' he added coyly, causing one of the men to snigger. 'But there are no camp followers, so…'
'Yes, I understand,' Yukimi said, coughing lightly and looking away from him. Osamu grinned, then clapped his hands once and grabbed the dice pot.
Long into the night Yukimi gambled on the throwboard with her men and, though her successes were few early on in the game, several hours later she was winning several small victories. A skin of wine was passed around the group several times, and though Yukimi tried to turn it down at first she quickly realised how much fun she was having by fitting in with ordinary people. It was pleasant, and though they still called her "my Princess" it was said in a far friendlier, more casual way. The fire died down over that time and the sun had long since departed for the night, and as Yukimi drained more wine each time it was passed to her, nobody seemed to notice in the near-darkness that Osamu, a common soldier, had managed to surreptitiously place one hand on Yukimi's buttocks. And in her mild stupor she did not think to object, either, and so the gambling continued until the last embers of the fire were extinguished when one of the men, Daisuke, spilt wine on it.
Osamu stood up. 'Idiot!' he said, then laughed. 'I think that must be the end of our game. My Princess, do you need an escort back to your tent?' Tsubasa snorted quietly, muttering something under his breath.
Yukimi rose to her feet, worried now that she might trip in the darkness and in her light intoxication, and so she nodded. 'Thank you, soldier.' She laughed as well. 'Thank you all for the game,' she said warmly to the others.
'Night, my Princess,' Daisuke muttered drunkenly, and the others followed suit. Yukimi and Osamu left the dead fire and began to stumble through the silent camp towards her tent. The guard outside it was sleeping on the ground.
'I'll keep watch,' Osamu volunteered as they looked at the man snoring quietly on the grass.
'Shouldn't we just wake hi-' Osamu bent over and kissed her suddenly. She had never been kissed before, except on the cheek by her mother, and it took a moment for her to realise what it was. Kiss back! she told herself, but another part of her was begging her not to let this happen. The virginity of a Princess was sacred.
She closed her eyes and, as he ran his fingers through her hair of silver silk, she responded to his lips with eager fascination. They stumbled into the tent and, making sure they were silent, climbed quickly but quietly into her hammock. She shivered as his hands ran up her bare thighs, lifting her tunic and pulling it over her head. He was on top of her and though he was gentle in his motions, he guided her hands quickly to his belt, letting her loosen it before pulling his trousers down to his knees.
Without any further hesitation but with infinite care, he slid slowly and tenderly inside her. He paused for a moment and between her small, fast breaths she could feel him pressing against her virginity with a heartbeat of hesitation. Then he pushed through and she almost cried aloud had it not been for the fact that he kissed her deeply, muffling her. This is good, she thought despite the pain, don't stop…don't stop…Osamu began to move back and forth, and in her quivering excitement Yukimi found herself wrapping her lithe legs around his strong waist, inviting him further in.
Shortly, he spilled his seed inside her, and Yukimi felt for one glorious moment that she would never feel sad again. As they lay together in silence, catching their breath, Osamu kissed her on the forehead as she descended into deep slumber, and he crept out of the tent to stand guard.