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I ran the last hundred yards, where cobble stone plateaus divided small sets of stairs, guided by the lantern light of the standing guards. I must have looked dreadful, because their faces took alarm to my approach.
“Please,” I said, panting. “Please, let me speak with the lord of this place. He arrested my brother over a big misunderstanding. Please, you have to let me explain!”
“Lord Kwan is asleep,” said one guard, sounding irritated with me already. “Do you even know what hour it is, boy?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I knew I had to be here before sunrise. Please.”
“Go home,” said the other, who seemed a little more patient. “The sun will be up in a few hours. You can come back in the morning.”
I shook my head. “I came from the village below the mountain. And I’ve already walked through my shoes and all of my lamp oil just to get here now.”
“The village?” repeated the second guard. “But that would mean you’re...”
I gulped air, trying to keep my knees from shaking.
“You’re a human,” said the first, sounding both astonished and annoyed. “That must mean you’re here for—”
“Let the boy speak,” said the second guard. “It’s not an easy trek for humans as it is.”
It didn’t bother me that they kept calling me a boy. What mattered was trying to get Hisato out of there. “My brother accidentally crossed the boundary while hunting. He didn’t know. He’s not a cruel person, or a greedy one.”
“Hunting?” said the first guard. “Yes, I know who you’re speaking about. But he killed the sacred deer. A white doe.”
I clasped my hands over my chest, clinging to the bunny hidden beneath. “He didn’t mean to. Hisato wouldn’t do something like that on purpose. A lot of the villagers have a hunter in their family. It’s how we’re able to get by, you see.”
“Silence!” scolded the first guard.
“Hang on,” cooed the second, tempering his companion. “If that’s true, it should be brought to the master. It might interest Lord Kwan to know this about his neighbors, in case something like this does happen again. Better he know the circumstances than to believe the humans are deliberately trespassing.”
The first guard scoffed. “I’m not waking him at this hour. He’ll bite my head off! He’s been in a foul mood these last fifty years at least.”
A foul mood? For fifty years? I began to lose hope that my story would be moving at all. Still, I held back my desire to cry. I had to stay strong.
“I’ll wake him then,” said the second. “Just as soon as we’re relieved from this post. And you can keep an eye on the boy. If the master is going to be cranky, then it’s best to not make him walk all this way.”
“You want me to watch the child?” complained the first.
“Unless you want to be the one to wake the master,” said the second.
The first guard grumbled, fixing his eyes directly on me. “Alright then, boy. I’ll escort you in. But you had better stay by my side, or I’ll have to cut you down.”
Fearful, I nodded.
“We can’t have strange folk running around. Even if you are just a half-starved human whelp.”
“How old are you, anyway?” asked the second guard, a spark of realization in his voice.
“My brother and I are fifteen,” I answered, a little too fast. It was all I can do to not tremble too violently—I couldn’t focus on steadying my words. In truth, I was glad I had the strength to say anything at all in that moment.
“Still a child,” said the second guard, more to himself than to his friend.
The first guard sighed, grumbling.
It was all I could do to keep myself standing as I waited. My eyes kept glancing eastward, dreading that they might see a hint of morning light. What felt like ages came to an end when a pair of new guards, similarly dressed in red and gray, stepped out from the moon gate. The large, wooded doors were easily three times my height, yet these men pulled them open with ease; they glided without a creak in their design or a sharp squeak from their hinges.
The guards I’d waited with gave some brief explanation, though I was too focused on trying to get my tale straight to hear what was said. The first one motioned to me to stay beside him, and I obeyed. When he walked, I walked. When he stopped, I stopped. He went left, and so did I. Whatever direction, whatever pace, I matched it. I couldn’t risk irritating them with a question or complaint, or by any distraction that would slow me down.
Behind the moon gate was another long flight of stairs, guiding through a pleasant bamboo forest and towards a new white wall and gate. The rooftops from before were outposts. The wall here was shorter by compare at only twice my own height. For privacy? I’d never been in a city or a palace or anything like that, so it was hard to say. Nor had I ever spoken to a lord or heavenly spirit before. Unless the guards counted, though I hadn’t thought about that in my desperation to make it here.
Past the smaller moon gate, a pretty courtyard greeted us. A wide space with a small fountain tucked into one far corner and babbling away pleasantly. The greenery was kept simple, and flat sones placed close together made for a walkway towards the magnificent house. That wasn’t the direction we headed to, however. The guard escorting me motioned for me to go towards a storage shed, and to sit on the veranda there to wait. The second, kindlier guard set down his spear and other effects, and took a measured pace towards the house.
I stared after him, anxious and waiting. Again, I rehearsed what to say in my head, worried I would forget pieces, or get them mixed up.
“Here,” said my escorting guard.
Looking up, he handed me a pretty cup. Green ceramic with a pronounced floral design at its base. “Thank you,” I said, hoarse.
Water. I didn’t realize how parched I was until then, and drank it down in heavy gulps. He took back the cup and filled it again for me. I repeated my thanks, and drank only a little slower. He didn’t offer me a third.
I looked at the twigs and thorns and leaves that clung to my deel, picking them off hesitantly. I looked so shabby that it probably wouldn’t make a difference. At the same time, I remember my parents telling me and my brothers to always look our best for guests and strangers. It would be shameful and embarrassing to appear wild. But I might gain more pity and better secure Hisato’s release if I looked so pathetic. Which one was best?
A bit of red caught my attention. My leg had bled a little more since I cleaned it by that stream, and already it began to bruise. My pants weren’t long enough to conceal that. Pitiful as it was.
Light began to appear in the cloudy sky. My nerves wracked at my body. I’d made it. Surely. I couldn’t see Hisato anywhere, but I’d made it to the villa before sunrise. Wasn’t that enough?
I fidgeted with the cuffs of my sleeves, my eyes fixed on the house. I almost didn’t believe when I saw the kindlier guard and a handsome man come around the corner and into view. They’d said their master had a foul mood for fifty years—I didn’t think a youthful lord would come to meet me. In remembering where I stood, I realized how silly it was to expect an old man to appear. The lord of this place was a Juneun, a heavenly spirit. Of course he wouldn’t be old, not unless he wanted to appear that way. He was timeless, like all his kind were; whether they were Juneun or Kurai, they were eternal compared to humans.
His long silken robes of black, white, and gray flowed so seamlessly as he walked. His face pale like snow, while his long, black hair shined. He hadn’t bothered to tie it up, perhaps thinking I wasn’t worth the effort; and I couldn’t blame him for that, considering how I arrived. His eyes were a mixture of brown and orange, something predatory and tiger-like, and seemed in conflict against his stony expression. I found I couldn’t read him at all, and it worried me. Perhaps all lords were taught to present themselves like this, since they were so different from us villagers.
I stood, trembling. A part of me wanted to flee, while another part of me wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg for my brother’s release. What would I say? I’d been so shocked by the lord of this villa that I’d forgotten everything I practiced in my head. His every stride seemed deliberate and powerful and all authority, and I couldn’t look away.
My hands went to my chest, pressing hard on the stuffed rabbit beneath my clothes. It was enough to remind me of the important things to say.
He stopped a few feet away, looking down at me, and I felt so exposed and pathetic in that moment. What right did I have to ask him anything? Hisato. I had the right as a sister to try and save her brother.
“This is the village boy?” asked Lord Kwan.
“I...” my voice felt stuck, and I swallowed hard on the sticky spit that coated my mouth.
“Gi tells me you came up on behalf of a brother. The one who killed the sacred doe of the mountain.”
“He didn’t mean to,” I said, a bit too loudly.
Lord Kwan raised a brow, but otherwise stayed unmoving.
I reined my voice in, holding tight to my bunny and fighting the urge to fall shaking on my knees. “I’m sure he’d tell you. Many villagers go into the mountain to hunt. And I know he wouldn’t deliberately hunt on your lands, or kill an animal that was sacred. He wouldn’t do that if he knew. He, he must have thought it was an ordinary deer, or maybe didn’t see how special it was—”
I paused, catching Gi, the kindly guard from before, mouthing something. My lord. He was cuing me to use manners I wasn’t used to. My face paled when I realized. He stopped, abrupt, as his master turned his head slightly.
“I’m... I’m sorry, my lord.” I tore away my gaze, looking at the gravel between myself and Lord Kwan. “When I heard, I came up in desperation. My shoes shredded and my lantern ran out of light long before I even made it to your walls. We’re twins, you see. And I can’t bring myself to know a life without him, my lord.”
A long silence.
“You don’t look anything alike,” said Lord Kwan, pondering.
I faced him again, blinking. “We did as babies, my lord. And he’s the kindest brother in the world. When I fell sick because of this,” I placed my fingertips on the large bulbus scar on my cheek, “He climbed up here himself to ask for medicine. And he was in such a hurry to bring it to me, he got hurt coming down.”
“He’s been here before?” asked Lord Kwan.
I nodded.
“And yet, he didn’t know he was hunting on my lands.”
I gasped, realizing my mistake. “He took the stairs to get here that time, my lord. Hunting in the forests... there aren’t any markers to tell us where your lands begin. He wouldn’t have known!”
I caught a glimpse of Gi, motioning for me to calm and flashing a look of concern.
“So, it is my fault?”
I shook my head, feeling cornered. “N-no, I didn’t say that.”
He brushed back some of his smooth, black hair with a flick of his hand, his expression still stone. “Explain it to me, then.”
I did my best, recounting in a more organized fashion and looking to Gi often for cues. I explained our age and the series of misfortunes that befell the village, putting us into a greater poverty as a community. And I made sure to mention the pox that plagued us, and my gratitude for the mysterious Juneun who healed us, and how I gave back in prayer as often as I could. I said it all in the hope of making a better appeal. Though, Lord Kwan didn’t seem impressed in the least.
Instead, he looked me up and down, stoic.
Displeased? Annoyed? Sympathetic? I couldn’t tell.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Lord Kwan, cold in his tone.
I tried to meet his eye without shaking, then bowed low, the best I knew how to do. “Let him go home, my lord. And forgive his mistake. Please.” It was all I could do not to cry in that moment. Hisato’s life was still on the line.
He grunted at my request, and I didn’t know if I should take it as a good sign, or a bad one. “The killing of sacred things cannot go unpunished. Even if I forgave the trespassing.”
I fell to my knees then, begging. “Then let me be punished, my lord!”
He stopped in his words, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. I was about to lose my brother.
“My brother hunts because I can’t work like he can. I’m not so strong. So, his crime was because of me. I should be the one punished.”
I wept, afraid of what might happen next. It was still early in the dawn, and I had no one to rescue me. Even if Kenta rode in a gallop the entire way and leapt over the river, he wouldn’t make it in time.
Finally, I was able to reel myself in a bit. Lord Kwan waited until that moment before giving me a command.
“Stand up, boy. And stop your crying.”
I obeyed, my legs wobbly, and wiped my face with my sleeves. But I dared not meet his eye again.
“I will take your offer. Under the condition that you say not a word when he leaves. I won’t have this back and forth begging for each other.”
I nodded.
“If you speak, I will take him back and send you away. And it will be as though you never arrived. Do you understand?”
Again, I nodded at his cold instruction.
“Look at me, and answer.”
I breathed in, holding tight to my chest to muster courage, and forced myself to look into his eyes. “Yes, my lord. I understand.” My voice was a whisper, but it was the best I could do.
He stared at me, watching me shake, but I wouldn’t look away.
“Fetch the boy,” said Lord Kwan with a sigh. “And escort him to the river. He can make his way from there.”
Both Gi and my escort guard obeyed, answering and giving a slight and swift bow before leaving. It was the two of us then. I stayed trembling and staring at the cold features of this lordly spirit’s face. Wordlessly, I said my goodbyes to my family and friends, to the hopes and dreams I had for my future, to the perfect canvas and brush I would never use, the drawings I would never see again, the fields and animals and river that I grew up with. I resigned myself, or tried to.
I held onto that bunny hidden beneath my shirt, telling myself it would be alright. I would be with my mother again. And Hisato would be freed and live a good and long life. My brothers would marry kind and beautiful girls, and have families of their own. Perhaps one of their children would like drawing and painting, and would put my abandoned things to use.
Maybe Fumei would marry Kenta or Raeden, and would cook all sorts of things and be a gentle force in their life. She was kind enough that she might do that for my family anyway, and maybe that’s how she would fall in love. It sounded terribly romantic, and I found a comfort in thinking my dear friend would be there for my family.
The sound of iron and heavy footfall broke my thoughts. My eyes pulled away from Lord Kwan, who’d stayed perfectly still in studying me, and to my brother. Hisato seemed resigned to a gruesome fate, his wrists and ankles in chains. When he looked up, he blinked at me, like he was looking at a ghost. His face paled then, and shouts of protest left him, though the guards shoved to keep him moving forward.
I wanted to say so many things then. To tell him to use any savings he had to hire one of Renzo’s daughters to cook and clean. To sell the sandals I’d woven, and all of my things to be sure they had enough. To replace the ceramic pot and to help father with pickling for winter. I wanted to say that I loved him, and that I wanted him to live the happiest of life for me. To tell Kenta and Raeden and father that I loved them with all my heart. I wanted to say so much, and put my hands tight over my mouth to keep from any of it.
I’d promised to not say a word. My sobs were muffled, and my tears flowed freely.
“Hisa!” called Hisato. “Hisa! What did you do? Hisa, no! Hisa!” He called for me, for some explanation, and I couldn’t say anything—not even to comfort him.
The wood doors of the moon gate closed, but I could still hear my brother calling my name. I fell back on my knees, squeezing my hands over my mouth so hard I thought my teeth might bend. And I stayed there shaking for a long while. Long enough that I didn’t notice when another Juneun walked up. Lord Kwan instructed him to take me somewhere, and he obliged with a soft voice.
“Hey.”
I looked up, seeing the ginger-brown hair and fox ears of this spirit. Whereas the guards looked like fit men in peak health, and their lord ethereal, this spirit looked so strange. I’d never seen such color of hair, except on animals, nor had I ever seen someone with animal ears. And there was only ever one spirit I knew who had anything to do with foxes. A Kurai called Gumiho. But the spirit in front of me was a young man, and smiled gently. He sounded kind, and softened his voice to a coo for me.
“Can you stand?”
I nodded, trying to clean up my face as I did. He helped me to my feet anyway, and held my hand the first few steps as he guided me somewhere. And, though I knew it was rude, I couldn’t help but stare at his ears as I obediently followed.
“Are you Gumiho?” I asked in a whisper.
He stopped, turning to look at me with an embarrassed expression. “No, I’m not. My name is Syaoran. I’m a fox spirit, but I’m not with Gumiho. I’m a servant to Lord Kwan.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling ashamed for having asked. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Most people who don’t know have their suspicion. Spirit or human.”
He continued on, and I followed. I didn’t want to give any reason to upset him or anyone in these walls.
“I saw what you did for your brother,” said Syaoran. “It was brave of you.”
I shook my head. “All I did was beg and cry.” Looking around, I admired the beauty of the house and the other buildings, and of the garden and decorative things that seemed perfectly placed.
“That leg of yours says otherwise. Climbing up here from the lower river is difficult enough in fair weather. But on a rainy night, without even a lantern? I’d say that’s brave.”
“He’s my brother,” I whispered.
Syaoran chuckled. “I wish I had brothers like you.”
“I’m his sister,” I said absently, and nearly walked into him as he came to an abrupt stop.
He looked at me then, wide eyes blinking and fox ears pointed high. “Sister?”
I gave a single nod, and pressed my arms defensively against my chest. Did I make a mistake in revealing that?
He stared at me, taking it in. And then relaxed with a sorry expression. “I think that makes you even braver.”
I stared back at him, unsure what to make of it. There was a comfort in how he spoke, and his handsome features coupled with his strange hair and fox ears didn’t make me feel as afraid as I did before.
We walked on.
“Are you a Juneun?”
He laughed. “Sort of. There’s different kinds. I’d say I’m closer to it than the guards and staff here, but not the same as Lord Kwan.”
I didn’t quite understand, but decided not to pester with any more questions.
I was brought to the kennels. Empty as they were. Syaoran ushered me to one with a thick bed of hay, saying how they didn’t have a place for prisoners and that I would stay here until tomorrow. Then he asked what my favorite foods were, so that I could have them for today. It was a kind gesture, and I tried to take it with dignity. When he left, and the finality of my fate set in, I curled up in the hay and wept.
Fishing out my beloved stuffed bunny, I stroked its soft ears and stared at it like a child. My sole consolation.