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After what seemed like hours – and judging by the cant of the sun beyond the palace windows, that may have been more reality than hyperbole – the dubious music of rustling fabric went silent.
But how it had rustled!
Rakushun had never given much thought before to just how many sounds could be conjured by cloth: the susurrus of different weaves of silk slithering one across the other, the whisper-whip of a sash pulled free by a brisk and efficient hand, even the slide of quilted folds swishing across his own fur. It sighed like the ocean underneath the murmurs of court tailors and their assistants, the soft scuffle of slippers as the latter darted about fetching and carrying. Varied hues – all adhering to the spring season as required by the dictates of court protocol – were compared, against each other and his ash-grey coat. Different textures were held up, muttered over, exchanged. Sashes were considered, though only those that fell within a careful span of widths appropriate to the occasion were put forth. The fall of jade ornaments placed thus and so was consulted against tomes as prodigious as any he had studied at the Daigaku of En years before.
All very proper. All very precise. And every appearance before the mirror had deflated him further.
If only it had the power to do so physically. Layers upon layers of court robes on his plush rat-figured body, and no matter the combination, or the colours, or how the sashes wrapped, he looked to his own eyes more and more like a child’s stuffed toy with every iteration.
It was simple enough to keep the dismay from his features. The tailors had shown no signs of prejudice against hanjyuu (and nor would he have expected otherwise here in Kinpa Palace itself), but that did not mean they could easily decipher expressions from a facial structure so different to their own. Rakushun was unfailingly polite and thankful for their efforts. And when they departed, he was not sure he had ever been so relieved for something to end in his life.
Well. At least for categories of events that did not include attacks by youma.
Peering dejectedly at a thread of bright green silk striped along the carpet like a overlooked snake, he found only one answer in it: that he could not bear to be inside any longer just now.
*
“Rakushun?”
He started at the sound of Youko’s voice. It drifted past where he sat gazing out at the Sea of Clouds from Mount Gyoten’s flank, naught but a gazebo’s suggestion of a roof above him and budding gardens around him. Turning on his bench, he saw the queen approaching. There was no sound to her steps even now that he was paying attention, a warrior’s bearing cultivated long ago in how she handled herself. Like the King of En, Youko had never given up on the habit adopted early in her reign, of venturing out into Kei in the guise of a commoner. Capability for self-defense was prerequisite.
“Shoukei was looking for you,” his friend said, seating herself nearby upon attaining the gazebo. It was no surprise that it was Youko who had located him, for this spot was one she had happened upon not so long after coming to live in the palace. At the time neglected and forgotten, something about it had struck her and she had taken it as her particular place to go and think when seclusion was needed. These days, it was in fair better repair than she had once found it, but the Queen had forbidden that this garden be brought to the levels of artificial splendor of many others on the grounds and instead kept near-wild, human intervention minimal.
Perhaps, Rakushun reflected to himself, he had come here because he knew Youko would find him.
“She wanted to go over some final revisions to your speech,” the queen continued, but her green eyes studied the hanjyuu’s face with care. And unlike many, she was very good at reading his features.
“I’m not sure about this,” Rakushun blurted suddenly. “No! Sorry.” Hurried clarification as he saw her expression already beginning to change with concern. “Not the...not the ceremony. The robes. They’re...I just....” He flapped his paws alongside his body as if that explained everything. “I’m afraid that overall, I’m not...it’s not lending to the gravity of the situation.”
Youko considered this for a moment, flicking absently at a long flowing leg of her own trousers for a moment. Even a queen’s ‘casual’ clothes were more to manage than one might want to, but compared to those required for full court ceremony, they were simplicity itself.
Unless, say, compared to an outfit that consisted of a short shawl tied around one’s shoulders, such as Rakushun typically wore. Her eyes bounced to that shawl now and then back.
“We’d discussed how it was important that this be done in your hanjyuu form,” she said, taking note of his nod of agreement before continuing. “So it sounds like what we need to look at is a new approach to the outfit. Dispense with the robes and...maybe a sash, a shoulder piece, something like that? Would that be more comfortable?”
“Ahh...yes, I think it would, but...Youko, I can’t ask that. Every bit of these outfits means something and I don’t want to undermine...things being taken seriously.”
“Rakushun,” she said quietly. “Think about what we’re trying to do. If people can’t deal with a shift in wardrobe, they’ll have far larger concerns soon enough, won’t they? Best to confront it head on. Trying to please everyone has never served me well.” A pause and she suggested with a hint of a smile, “I could make a royal proclamation first?”
For had she not already put a fox in the henhouse more than once as queen?
What a reversal of roles, he thought with some chagrin. But there was warmth to the thought as well. How far his friend has come! From a frightened and furious taika who trusted no one, to the wise and compassionate queen before him, ever ready to challenge the status quo if she thought it would lead to a better life for her people.
Lost in thought of the past and many conversations between the two of them, where he was the one attempting to provide a solid reassuring presence as she wrestled with turmoil, he let the silence stretch too far. Youko’s smile slipped back toward worry.
“...is this only about the clothing?” And, before he could marshal a response, she hurriedly went on. “If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay. I would never ask this if you don’t want to.”
He found himself shaking his head before he had made a conscious decision how to react, the vehemence of the motion whipping understanding of his own feelings out from his heart, through his bloodstream, and onto his lips. “That’s not it. It’s just…this matters so, Youko. I know it does. I worry that…can I really help, enough?”
Youko’s expression went as soft as the hand she reached out to set on his shoulder. “Of course you can. After all, didn’t you already help all of Kei? Where would I be now, if it wasn’t for your patience and faith when I need it most?”
Silence fell again, but it was a comfortable one this time, laden with the warm comfort of long years of friendship rather than the weight of fabric and self-doubt. And eventually, he began to feel a scrap of mischief percolate. Rakushun widened his eyes beseechingly.
“So. About the hat....”
“Everyone looks absurd in the hats,” she intoned without missing a beat. “It’s the great equalizer.” Youko grinned at him and he grinned back.
*
It was spring: spring for new beginnings and the bright green grass of Kei’s rejuvenated fields. The Queen of Kei presented her court and people with the announcement of a new ministerial position in her government. Chou Sei, known as Rakushun, was bestowed the honor of holding this office and his charge was to work to better integrate all of the different peoples that formed Kei’s society: those born within Kei and those who had immigrated, humans and hanjyuu, kaikyaku and those born to the Twelve Kingdoms.
A handsome silken wrap about his shoulders (Suzu having plowed through endless piles of fabric to find a shade of green that complimented his fur), a sash and jade ornaments and, yes, the precisely correct hat, were his only garb. For Youko was right: some things were worth preserving. Others, needed to change.
Together, he thought to himself, gazing out across an ocean of watching eyes, they would continue to see it happen.
And it was good.