Chapter Text
Seeing her father grovel like a rat filled her with disgust.
"My daughter was raised in the utmost respect of tradition. Yes, yes!" he said with narrowed eyes, rubbing his hands together. "You'll see. She is very docile!"
A strange way of saying he wanted to get rid of her as quickly as possible.
Opposite him, the two long-robed dignitaries exchanged a knowing look.
"Your request is accepted. But she will have to queue like the others."
"Of course. Clan Shuri addresses its deepest gratitude to his benevolence. Praised be he, the grand and almighty!"
Father, please, stop with the act.
Wish granted. Five minutes later, she was taken to a lavish room alongside a dozen other girls, dressed with equal care. A blessing they hadn't been put in irons. One of the girls, with short, marshmallow-pink hair, took her hand with a delighted squeal.
"Hi! My name's Tasha, what's yours?"
Well, she hadn't expected that.
"I am… Meize."
"Meize, Meize… Hey, that rhymes with stargaze! That's so pretty! I'm sixteen. Are you sixteen too? Since we're the same age, we're basically destined to be friends, right? So, are we gonna be love rivals or forever besties!?"
"Isn't it a bit early to decide?"
"It's not like it's a battle royal, right? Well, I hope not. Nobody actually stated the rules of the game."
Laughter echoed. A well-rehearsed farce where they were the punchline. Young, dolled up, yet capable. An orange-haired girl glanced at them, dimples showing.
"A tournament without rules is the worst kind. It means everyone makes up their own along the way."
"I heard the Emperor hates when anyone stands up to him," another chimed in. "They say a girl from the Inari clan reportedly refused to smile for him. She vanished that very night."
"And I heard one vanished the exact same night she arrived!"
Soft giggles. Tasha laughed along, though utterly clueless.
"Well then, guess I gotta smile AND eat super fast! Note to self."
"That’s how you win the grand prize," the orange-haired girl added. "Full smile, empty belly! Who knows? You might just get gobbled up by an oni that way!"
"Well, if he shows up, I'll just give him my share, and ta-da, problem solved!"
"But what if it's the emperor in disguise? He can take any form he likes. It'd be a waste not to enjoy it, right? ~"
"Oh no! Did I make a silly face at him earlier by accident?"
Soft cooing swept around them.
"Mind you," one said, "he might already be here, disguised as one of us."
Tasha’s eyes grew wide as saucers.
"It's not me," Meize clarified. "Or rather, I am indeed myself."
"Would you be sad if I wasn't me?"
"We just met."
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Meize set her comb before the mirror. Her dark hair gleamed in the light of her bedside lamp. It cascaded, brushed in places with green streaks, down to her single deep green tail wrapped around her waist.
A restless habit, masked by the softness of her fur.
An opulent display of goldsmithing claimed every corner. Her room was more of a treasure vault than a haven. The smallest trinket bore the mark of exceptional craftsmanship: silver filigree boxes worked with painstaking precision, vases studded with rare gems, and crystal vials spilling over the vanity.
Absurd.
In a sanctuary where any item was worth a lifetime, hers meant very little. This majestic decor served only to amplify the disquiet eating away at her since she had arrived. Another oddity for their collection, that was all she amounted to, she sneered with bitterness.
Someone knocked at her door.
An armored kitsune stood there. White tail, straight back, he cleared his throat.
"Lady Shuri. Your presence is requested in the private quarters."
Meize idly glanced over the black lacquer of his breastplate.
"Now?"
"It would not be wise to keep him waiting."
"Then let us not keep him waiting."
Their steps echoed through the halls, and Meize was caught off guard when he struck up a conversation.
"I see dozens of girls parade by every week, but you look more likely to strangle the next guy you see than to make him your husband. What's your deal? A family debt, or did you spill the chief's tea on an unlucky night?"
Yielding to the provocation, even in jest, would be a rookie mistake.
"My story is nothing quite so thrilling," she replied steadily. "Only a family keen to offer its best to the emperor. As for my demeanor... I'm simply matching the gravity of the place. It would be unwise to relax under this roof, wouldn't you say?"
A twitch of his ears betrayed his amusement.
"Whoa, big words right out of the gate! Gravity of the place, unwise! ! You take yourself way too seriously, Lady Shuri. Take a breath. It was just curiosity. The hallways are long, and when my gear makes a racket, you gotta keep your mind occupied."
Meize didn't bat an eye. If he meant to destabilize her with a friendly front, he was in for a disappointment.
"This palace is overflowing with people occupying their minds at the expense of others. Don't hold it against me if I decline to be your pastime."
"Have it your way," he whistled. "Paranoia makes great armor. Too bad it's so heavy to carry."
As if she'd drop her guard on the night she arrived. Especially right when she was being served up on a silver platter under the noble excuse of marital duty.
Up ahead, massive doors flew open with a bang, and Meize tensed up as slender arms suddenly hugged her.
"Yay! You're next!" Tasha giggled. "Hurry! You're totally gonna adore him! I swear, we were panicking for no reason!"
Meize remained stony-faced, annoyed by the amused looks from their respective escorts.
"Let me guess: he was flawless and treated you like a princess?"
"Even better! He asked me tons of questions and laughed at my jokes! He even remembered my cat's name! Can you believe it?"
"He was probably bored to death before you arrived. Don't mistake courtesy for fascination."
"We'll talk when you get back! I bet a hundred cakes he gets you to smile! Good luck!"
After a slight elbow-nudge, she slipped away with a nimble step, waving from afar.
An uneasy chill ran up her spine. Kindness? No, just a performance. Unknowingly, Tasha had played her role to perfection. A fox had no need to use its claws when a simple smile sufficed to disarm its prey. A quick glance at the guard showed he was wearing that unbearable smug expression. She clenched her fists and set her gaze straight ahead.
She would not make the same mistake.
Stepping under the arch alone, the double-mooned sky unveiled a courtyard of pristine harmony. A carpet of green moss spread beneath violet draperies. Wisteria buzzed, stirred by the night breeze. Meize traversed the path of white flagstones, skirting wide ponds where fist-sized carp slithered through the ripples. An intimate, hushed atmosphere, tailored to quell suspicion.
The stone trail came to an end on a wooden platform suspended above the water. At the far end of the pier, sheltered under the canopy of a pavilion, Meize discerned a figure standing by a well. Nine mythical tails, symbols of longevity and absolute power, sparked a memory inside her, charged with a dizzying excitement.
Perched on her father's shoulders, intoxicating euphoria had accompanied each of his appearances during the annual festivals. A wildly cheering crowd, thousands of fireworks, and an ocean of dancers at the base of the citadel. More than an emperor: an inaccessible god whose splendor had brightened her entire youth.
In contemplation, divested of the festival clamor and the adulation of the masses, this solitary silhouette sang a very different tune. Meize suppressed her nostalgia and stepped inside. Five meters off, in all due propriety, she knelt before the taoist robe emblazoned with the yin and yang.
"You called for me, my king…"
Silence.
Still, silence.
A silence that pressed so heavily it felt carved into her skin. The rustling leaves, the dampness of the grass staining her yukata, and the rhythmic splashing that seemed to measure her own heartbeat. The man with silver-white hair scooped into the well, drawing out a handful of murky water that trickled down between his talons.
"If we wiped this palace out to the last stone before sunrise, do you think the earth would care that an empire once rested on its back?"
Bitter irony. Her father had crawled through the dust for him, and here was this god pondering the memory of the ground. The starry-eyed child belonged to a past life, a ridiculous fantasy. She tucked her tail close against her waist, clutching her sleeve to preserve her composure.
"The earth harbors no resentment, my king, any more than it holds memories. It will overgrow what’s left with weeds, much as it does the graves of the forgotten. Only those who have lost all they had persist in seeking meaning where there are only stones."
The pressure dropped. Down onto her.
The fan of red tails shrouded her in an unrivaled shadow. She felt small, wretched, insignificant before the dominance of those scarlet irises. The dark vertical slit pulsed, an echo to the contractions of her throat. Breathing became an offense, sweating a heresy, and averting her gaze a sacrilege. The face, though youthful, filtered nothing but the weary detachment of an apex predator.
Her heart gave out.
Then caught itself when his eyes shifted past her. A rush of air escaped her closed lips, her whole body wracked by a compulsive shudder. The threat had not vanished; it had merely turned away, with the same indifference a storm shows when sparing a flower without noticing it.
"Jambavan. Yes, I remember now. She had come to remind me of the difference between pride and honor. Wearing a mask without ever bending is nothing but vanity. True nobility demands detaching oneself from it when everything demands hiding behind it, the only sacrifice that truly matters."
Her great-grandmother. He spoke of her as if she had just stepped out of the garden. Meize kept her head low, still numb with dread.
"Bowing was a capitulation she refused out of principle," she heard him say. "Yet it was not pride. Simply the last thing she had left. And you, what are you left with?"
"The proof of their devotion."
Uprooted by her clamminess and vertigo, she remained prostrate.
"I was sold so the Shuri could prove we still belong to you… A token of our submission."
"You have not answered me."
An icy shiver compelled her to raise her head. The crimson eyes burned with an insatiable hunger.
"What I am asking is what you desire."
The ultimate test.
The divine temptation.
Facing the abyss, sweat trickled down her neck. Not from dread. From exertion. Piety in total emptiness, perfection in erasing oneself. Within these walls, desire was a sin. A tear to stitch shut before daring to draw near the all-devouring flame.
"Nothing. I desire nothing, my king."
"Is that so?"
Erosion.
"Then why does your heart beat so wildly? Why do your fingers claw at the earth, refusing to succumb?"
"A survival instinct. I cannot control that which my body manifests."
"Sweet foolishness. A tool feels no need to justify itself. If you analyze your own dread to make it acceptable, it means the beast inside you is desperately searching for an exit."
"A stone on a slope rolls as a result of its own gravity, my king. Do not grant willpower where there is merely the simple order of things."
A smirk.
"A fallacy, little shadow. If your nature dictates it, why do you not let the void claim you without a word? It was the fear for your kin that brought you here, and now it is fear that binds you to the edge of the precipice."
The fate of her house was not what had-
No
Rationalizing meant letting him in.
"A confession to justify a verdict. But the earth does not confess, nor does it rebel against your majesty. Name what courses through me as you please; I will lend you no more words to paint it."
The zephyr swept the courtyard and the crushing pressure evaporated. The twin fires redirected themselves unto the well, an investiture through nothingness.
"An impressive discipline… That which accepts the yoke frees itself from the fear of fault. Where there is no want, there is no ruin. A dogma so many preach, yet fail to embody. And here you are, a soul apart from the rest."
A strike of another caliber: a tool displayed as a trophy. He was desecrating her submission, twisting her stoicism into a craving for validation. His venom seeped into her arteries with a rare tide of indignation. To take offense was to confess her ego.
In response, she merely suppressed her breathing. A moment elapsed. Then several. And the bass-baritone voice resonated anew.
"Well done. You have proven your steadfastness, young Shuri. It is time to address the matter at hand. On what grounds have you come tonight?"
The height of mockery. Her veneer of weariness was instantly subsumed by discipline.
"You inquire why I have come to an audience that you yourself designated. Should the question possess meaning, my king, I confess I do not perceive it."
"Meaning?"
The emperor allowed himself a faint laugh.
"What meaning is there in clans sending me their daughters when I haven't accepted a concubine in ages?"
A fleeting wave of relief washed across her features before she brought her forehead flush against the wet grass in absolute deference.
"Forgive my clan's shortsightedness, my king. This body has no other purpose than to serve your designs, in whatever manner your majesty sees fit to dictate."
"Yet you contradict your own words. I asked something, and I grow weary of repeating it. What is the purpose of your coming?"
"To serve, my king," she responded without pause. "Regardless of the duty you shall require of me."
"Such mediocrity."
The gravity of his words crushed her deeper than the dirt.
"A legion already grovels at my feet. You think one more would matter? You represent nothing but a waste of time."
To turn to ashes right there would have been preferable. Failing meant the end. She would be the laughingstock of everyone, held up as a cautionary tale. She could not accept such a fate. She had to unravel the riddle. If he sought neither companion nor servant, and inquired into the reason for her arrival…
The truth struck her, pure and ruthless.
Her training had been in vain. The emperor sought nothing. He was merely bored. The despair of his subjects was his entertainment. Her predecessor had left with a smile on her face. For there lay the paradox: sincerity at the very heart of the court. Of all the candidates, if their god had picked a mate, Tasha would have fulfilled his demands better than anyone.
Still, the answer could not be quite so straightforward.
Why had her clan instilled such a mantra in her, to never show desire before the major spirit of greed? Or perhaps that was her true mission: to walk the fine line where she must not compromise herself, yet lay herself bare enough to humor his requests?
She rose and met his gaze with grace.
"The summer I turned fourteen, my family's orchards were heavy with cherries. My sisters and I had stained lips from morning till night. But my mother locked the gates and banned us for days. Do you really think a lock sufficed to impart wisdom upon us?"
"Do you suppose your riddles hold any interest for me? If the grand revelation of your clan amounts to mere adolescent misdeeds, what remains for me to anticipate?"
She bit her bottom lip and carried on, braving the gale.
"Yesterday's misdeeds shape today's temptations, my king. I have ripened since, and I know that holding back before the priceless only proves one's worth."
The severe furrow of his brow vanished, though the harshness of his scarlet eyes did not fade. It dissolved into an ambiguous, elusive gleam. Had she managed to pique his curiosity? Meize's heart surged, and-
His gaze drifted slightly away.
"What do you think of our domain, young Shuri?"
The rug was pulled out from under her. There was no mistaking the scope of that "our". Her major spirit had just expanded the chessboard to the scale of the entire empire: this insular, wild and stagnant land which he ruled with an iron fist.
Palace riches held no surprise for her. As a princess of a noble house, she had known neither need nor hunger. But what was this luxury worth against the rot outside, the slums sprawling beneath the walls, the blood feuds the throne allowed to fester?
No privilege exceeded an audience with their god, yet offering praise for his eternal kingdom in such circumstances was akin to blasphemy.
"To profess satisfaction would be a lie, my lord. We find it hard to quell our bitterness, or to remain numb to the divide between us all. Yet viewing this as neglect would be folly. If you maintain this status quo, it is because you deem change to be fatal."
His claw pierced the surface of the water. A cleansing act he didn't deign to watch.
"You dress your misery in the cloak of my will. A relentless god, far more palatable than a distracted ruler. What sweet innocence. Everything you recite is mere background noise I stopped caring about long ago."
"Lie!"
Her cry pierced the treetops. A few birds took flight. Hurried steps.
"If this world meant so little to you, you would not seek out these midnight encounters! You are not blind to our suffering, my king! Had you wished it, you would have erased us centuries past!"
Their faces were so close their breath almost mingled.
Then a smile.
"Careful now. We're dangerously close to a romance novel."
She almost stumbled, caught just in time by the claw clamping down on her shoulder.
"If you insist so much… Fine. You'll be my steward."