Tenth Day of the First Month, Year One Thousand Ten of the Reign of the Ichiya Dynasty
Himari
The Sun’s rays hit through the window of Himari’s room like an arrow through the heart. Try as she might to turn and block out the light, it was no use. To her chagrin, Himari was not the sort to fall back asleep once awakened. It was a trait that was valuable for a prospective member of the Emperor’s Chosen. The ten personal bodyguards of Emperor Ichiya XXXX needed to be ready to respond to threats at a moment’s notice, and the ability to return to sleep after being awoken once simply was a liability.
So, despite her personal reservations, she rose for the morning. Himari was taller than most her age, with a muscular form that showed off many years of training. She slipped on her yukata and made her way to the small mirror in her room. Long, black hair was carefully tied into a loose braid, and without any thought to make up, she left for breakfast.
As she found her way to the breakfast hall, it was her practice to attempt to make it there entirely unnoticed. While it felt somewhat… superfluous, the truth was that it was a valuable part of her training. The Emperor’s Chosen, she reminded herself, needed to be able to move through the world without so much as disturbing a blade of grass. To be able to eliminate threats before they even were brought to the Emperor’s attention; that was a key duty of the Chosen.
Her attention was briefly distracted by the sound of fluttering fabric. Her eyes looked into the cracked open door of her youngest brother’s room. He was laughing as a poor servant tried vainly to roll up his futon without rolling him up with it. Six summers old and he was every bit as energetic as she was at that age. She shook her head and chuckled to herself.
In that moment as she was chuckling, she felt the tanto at her throat. “I thought I taught you better than to be distracted by trivial things, Himari-chan. You might have made it at least to the door before I caught you.”
Himari let out a heavy sigh. “Father, do you truly expect that any would-be assassins would have anything resembling the skill of the eldest of the Emperor’s Chosen?”
“I do, yes. And the fact that you discount the possibility is a concern for your upcoming Trials. Do you think your competition will take it easy on you because of your reputation?” The knife removed itself from her throat, and Himari rose.
“No, but I also do not think that the competition has any chance,” she stated confidently. At twenty-two summers, Himari was the youngest in a generation to be allowed to undertake the Emperor’s Trial. Those she was facing would be at least five to six years her senior. But of course, they did not have the advantage of having the Captain of the Guard as their father. She was supposed to be confident, right?
“Pride does not become a Sato,” her father warned sternly. “You must treat your opposition as if they mean to kill you, and treat this trial with that same level of respect. Else, you will be the first of the Sato eldest to fail to join the Chosen. I hope you will not put such shame upon your family.”
Himari sighed. “No, Father, I will not.” In truth, her apparent confidence was as much theater as anything else. If she was being honest with herself, the weight of expectation was somewhat frightening. But she couldn’t say that in front of her father, either.
Sato Kosuke had been the Captain of the Guard. Fifteen Summers ago, he had foiled a plot to murder the Emperor, and his gaze has been said to be enough to stop even the thought of assault. Since Himari was thirteen Summers old, she had been training to one day step into the role of Captain of the Guard. And in just two days, she would be expected to take the first step on that journey by passing the Emperor’s Trials.
Breakfast finished without further conversation. Himari made her way to out to the garden, Bokken in hand. As she always did, she started with the first Kata. The bokken was held high, before being brought down in a swift arc. Her feet shifted right, her blade parrying an imagined opponent before it was brought in to strike that one. It was a process that would proceed over several minutes of blade work; striking and blocking dozens of imagined opponents before she was satisfied enough to take a break.
From the bench nearby, her mother clapped for her cheerfully. “Well done, Himari-chan. I do not think I have ever seen you practice so crisply.” Sato Kimika always complimented Himari’s work, to the point that Himari wasn’t sure that she could rely on what she perceived to be empty compliments.
But she still could not help but smile as she approached the bench and sat. Her mother was gracefully moving into her middle years, and was still by most estimations an attractive woman. Himari let out a sigh as she sat with her doting parent, shaking her head. “You say that every day, Mother. It still is not up to Father’s standards.”
“My dear Himari-chan,” the older woman chuckled, putting a hand on her daughter’s head, “if your only threshold for success is whether or not it is up to your Father’s standards, then you will never see any accomplishment for what it is. It is alright to not have the same standards and expectations he has. There is not a person in Seifu who could meet them in the first place.”
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“I know you are trying to be comforting,” Himari groaned, swatting the hand away with a gesture, “but the only way for me to step out of his shadow is to exceed those standards. It isn’t easy being the Daughter of the second most famous man in Seifu, you know.”
“It is not easy being his wife either, you know,” She moved her hand to her mouth to gently stifle her chuckle
“And yet,” Himari countered, “you are the famous Sato Kimika, wife of the Greatest Swordsman to ever live. And I am merely the unknown daughter, upon which lies the expectation to perform to the standard of a man who stopped a Coup in his twenty-fifth summer.”
“And,” Kimika spoke in a gentle tone, “as you very well noted, I am merely the wife of Sato Kosuke. Doomed to fall under his oppressive shadow until my dying days. What fame do I truly have, save having been the one who sired the three Children of the Greatest Swordsman to ever live?”
Himari opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. “I… see your point. His shadow is truly massive to fit both of us in it.
Kimika shook her head with a chuckle, her hand returning to her daughter’s head. “It is only as massive as we allow it to be, Himari-chan. There is more to life than exceeding your father’s legacy.”
Himari frowned, looking at her hands. “Is there?”
As Himari made her way for dinner, her conversation with her mother played over and over in her head. She had never had a dream, other than to carry the legacy of her father. The idea that there was something else out there seemed ludicrous. Wouldn’t that make all of the sacrifices that she had made; the private schooling, only ever making friends her father would approve of, training instead of learning how to make ikebana; entirely pointless? She couldn’t rely on her younger brother to carry that legacy.
“Big Sister!” The sound of her second brother ripped her from her thoughts quite expertly. Jiro was tall for his six Summers, and even hours after making the servants’ life hell he had the boundless energy common in those six Summers. He had grabbed her right arm and dropped to dead weight, forcing her to either flex to hold him aloft or allow both to tumble to the ground.
Himari elected for the latter, laughing all the way down. “Jiro-kun! We are going to be late to dinner!”
“I’m not hungry, Big Sister! Let’s play!” His laughter was contagious as the pair wrestled around the wooden floors of the estate.
“Play?” She mused. “How about… tickle Oni!” Her fingers found the child’s sides and she tickled vigorously. The boy let out a shrill scream of joy.
It did not last long. A shadow covered both, and as Himari looked up, the sight of her father loomed large. Disapproval painted his face. “Is this the time or the place?” He asked sternly.
Himari scrambled up to her feet and bowed low. “Forgive us, Father. I should not have encouraged Jiro-kun’s behavior.”
Jiro stood and ran to Kosuke, grabbing the hem of his hakama as he looked away from Himari. This was the truest power of Sato Kosuke; the ability to completely destroy any semblance of joy from a room.
Kosuke looked down to Jiro and placed his hand on the child’s head. “Go to dinner.” The boy nodded and ran off as quick as his legs would take him. “Himari-chan. Come with me.”
“But Father-”
“Come.” His command allowed no opportunity for resistance. It never did, and she knew it. So with head bowed, she followed her father into the family garden.
The pair walked in silence for what felt like an eternity. Himari’s thoughts raced uncomfortably in thought, trying to piece together what she did specifically that was going to be the cause of tonight’s lecture. Did she laugh too loudly? Was it in the act of playing with her own younger brother at all? Surely not, he was too young to understand the Why’s of why they were so strict in the first place!
Eventually, their path led them to a bridge leading to a small island surrounded by the stream that ran through the garden. Kosuke walked over the bridge and sat on one of the two benches that sat before a large shrine. He motioned for her to sit across from him, and of course she obediently did so.
“Himari-chan,” Kosuke finally broke the silence. “What do you think of when you think of our ancestors?”
This question again. Almost every time she got in trouble more than once in a day, she was asked this question. But he had never bothered bringing her here to ask it before. She looked at the shrine for a long minute, before finally she answered. “I think of the ancestral duty of the Sato. To stand next to the Line of the Ichiya and protect them from all that might wish to do them harm. A duty going back to the great God Sato, who came to Nishibi to help the first Ichiya create the Empire of Seifu.” No matter how much time she was asked, this was the answer she gave.
He let out a sigh. “Words from a book, with no understanding. You have been training for ten years, and this is the best answer you can come up with?”
Her face reddened at the chastisement. What else was she supposed to say? “Well, what about you?” She blurted out. “What does it all mean to you, hm?” As soon as she asked, her mouth shut and her eyes widened. She knew better than to question him, but the words just escaped without thinking.
And yet, to her honest surprise, he smiled. “A question worthy of answering,” he said calmly. “That inquisitive nature is vital to the Emperor’s Chosen, Himari-chan.” His hand touched the shrine briefly. “When I think of our Ancestors, I remember my father’s father, who died to a poison dart to protect Ichiya XXXVII. Or his father’s father, who stood alone against an army of angry peasants, holding the road with his magics at the cost of his own life until the armies could muster. Our history is a history of sacrifice on behalf of the Dynasty. To die, so that our Emperors may continue to rule.”
Himari is quiet for several long moments. But finally she asks. “So we will die on behalf of the Emperor some day? That is what our life has led up to all this time?”
Kosuke does not answer for a long time. Before finally, he utters six simple words.
“Not if I can help it.”