1-3 Shuka left the room, the girl's screams stinging in her ears like a whip on her back.
How did it come to this?
In the beginning, Shishou was an outsider whose praises she'd heard being sung. He'd been accepted into college at breakneck speed. His professors had filled his card in a mere two years.
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University graduates usually went into government service. Or rather than starting out as a clerk or undersecretary in some lowly bureaucratic post, it was also common practice to accept a military commission as a junior grade officer right out of college. Shishou had designs on a generalship, and his future was all but guaranteed.
But Shishou hated the king and wanted no part of the government. And so he resigned his post.
At that time, Sai was ruled by King Fu. The dynasty was coming to a close and the kingdom was crumbling. Bad governance and foolish laws followed one after the other. The criticism of the ministers only made King Fu more intemperate. Drowning his sorrows in women and alcohol, he allowed his duties to go by the wayside.
Most of the ministers who were critical of the king were ignored or replaced. These ousted ministers offered Shishou patronage. In Yuunei, he pulled together a band of fellow sympathizers, and the voices of censure grew louder. A similar band of young activists outraged at King Fu's misrule gathered around him. Shuka counted herself among them.
The movement led by Shishou eventually gained the support of the people. They called themselves "Kouto." During the dynasty of King Fu, it was Shishou who led the people and fought the insanities that he wrought, and fought the devastation after King Fu died.
As soon as the flag was raised over the Rishi, Shishou went on the Shouzan. As everybody expected, Sairin chose him as the next king. This imperial accession was one that seemed right and proper. Not only Sairin, but everybody who knew Shishou believed in the new king. It was inconceivable that the dynasty should begin to founder after only twenty years.
Shuka left the courtyard almost at a run. Back in the palace annex, the Rikkan was waiting in a high state of anxiety. Seeing her, several rose from their chairs. Feeling the weight of their expectations, Shuka looked away.
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The head of the Rikkan had, like Shuka and so many members of Kouto, entered the Imperial Court in his relative youth. With their ideals guiding them, they had banded together to fight the downfall of the kingdom. Shuka was well aware of their temperaments. The trust they placed in the new king and the expectations they had for the new court were reflections of their own hopes and aspirations. They couldn't bring themselves to admit aloud that things could have gone so badly.
They grasped the situation from the look on Shuka's face alone. Their countenances filled with bitter mortification. Those who had risen to their feet sat down again in exhausted resignation. The silence filled with strained sighs. One of them finally arose and in a low voice urged them to leave. It was Shuka's husband, Eishuku, the Chousai.
"Sitting here won't accomplish anything. We have confirmed the truth of what we needed to know. With these doubts settled, we must think seriously about how to address it." He looked at the rest of the Rikkan, who appeared too drained to even raise their voices in reply. "What's to be gained from giving up? Now is the time for us to roll up their sleeves and get to work."
In response to Eishuku's scolding, the members of the Rikkan nodded. With pensive faces, they got to their feet and shuffled from the room, leaving Shuka and Eishuku behind. Eishuku finally departed as well, with Shuka hurrying to keep up.
He asked in a low voice, "Do you think she will recover?"
"That—of course—"
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—is a forgone conclusion, she wanted to answer, but couldn't force the words out of her mouth. Examples of a Saiho recovering from the shitsudou were few and far between.
Shishou was the king fated to rule this kingdom. On top of that, he was Eishuku's older cousin and long-time friend. Eishuku had grown up more like Shishou's brother. Even after Shishou left their home town, their unrivaled friendship continued, and when he went to Yuunei and organized Kouto, Eishuku was the first to join. They raised the banner of righteousness and fought the destruction of the kingdom.
They even made the Shouzan together. From the founding of the new court until now, Eishuku had been Shishou's number one supporter. He couldn't bring himself to say that Shishou had exhausted the Mandate of Heaven. Or perhaps he was simple incapable of articulating the sorrow he felt at the moment.
As if sensing the reason for Shuka's hesitancy, Eishuku stopped in the corridor and pressed his fingers to his temples. He hung his head in obvious distress and moaned softly. Shuka couldn't think of what to say, so instead she pressed her hand against his back.
In the adjoining courtyard, a peach tree was in full bloom. The flowers petals danced and scattered in the wind, like a dreamworld dissolving. There was something terribly sad about the sight.
Dreaming of Paradise—
It may have all been a dream. Thirty years before, Shuka was nothing more than an angry young student outraged at the mismanaged reign of King Fu. When she moved to Yuunei to attend the district academy, she joined Kouto and met Shishou.
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There they had nursed a single dream. They believed that if everyone shared that dream and saw it through to fruition then Eden awaited them. The glorious past they shared together, arguing through the night about the world they would make, leading the people against King Fu's corrupt rule and then against the devastation that followed.
During those heady times, Shuka and Eishuku had pledged to stand behind Shishou all the way. Shuka was twenty-two, Eishuku twenty-six, and Shishou twenty-five. A mere three years later, Shishou was placed upon the throne.
Thinking back about it now, it seemed like an impossible dream. They had been so alive and so young—surrounded, it seemed, in a brilliant white light that was now painful to behold.
Eishuku finally raised his head. "What do you think we should do next, Shuka?"
"Whether or not the Taiho recovers all depends on whether Shishou can be brought back in accordance with the Way. If we could somehow remonstrate with him—"
"And how would we do that?"
Shuka didn't have a ready answer.
"What would we remonstrate with him about? Where has Shishou gone wrong?"
Shuka only shook her head. If I knew that—
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"We don't know what to remonstrate with him about, yet we're supposed to take him to task? Shishou?"
Shuka had no counter-argument here either. Had Shishou, like King Fu, abandoned the government for a life of debauchery, or if he was committing outrages against the people, she could understand the source of the shitsudou. There would be something for them to criticize.
But since his coronation, Shishou had devoted himself whole-heartedly to the job. As far as Shuka could see, he hadn't deviated from the Way since acceding to the throne. From every possible appearance, the kingdom appeared to be on the right track, and Shishou's deportment suggested no possible reason for the shitsudou.
Yet when she directed her attention elsewhere, that Sairin would be suffering the shitsudou became obvious. The Imperial Court remained frayed at the edges. The land remained in distress and the people impoverished. Despite a reign of little more than twenty years, critical voices could be heard among his subjects.
This was because Sairin was not well, it was said, and rumors of the shitsudou soon abounded. Clearly Sai was failing.
Shishou must know that as well. Sairin's already fair features had faded and grown paler. Since the New Year, she'd increasingly voiced complaints about her condition. Shishou had expressed the proper alarm, but took it as a divine trial that would soon enough be surmounted. They need only stick to the straight and narrow and work harder and Sairin's condition would improve. The kingdom would right itself.
Heaven, he had lectured the ministers encouragingly, was giving them these trials in order to test their mettle.
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Shuka looked away from her husband and stared at the dreamlike scene of the falling peach petals. The dream was taking its leave of them, like spring lingered too long in the gardens, the petals eventually scattering and fading away.