“Kijin,” people whispered, not without a touch of fear.
It was time.
If they like you, you will be rewarded, people said.
If you offend them, they may take your life on the spot.
Every year at harvest, Lady Ogami’in in her benevolence chose a handful of no’in and ge’in from the fieldvillages to work in her estate, at the mountain fortress of Kitano city. It was considered the greatest chance to move up in the world.
It was said that even Lady Ogami’in’s personal servants had no’in ink on their arms. They attended her inner councils and she treated them, if not like family, then at least with respect.
And now, she and her people had come. Come to take part in the festival, to reward the outvillage for its work, and to give thanks. They were mounted archers, lotus-born – descended from gods, some said, just like the emperors in their capital half a world away. They rode tall on their horses; they sat dressed in their colorful clothes.If they like you, people said,you have a chance.
Rui watched from the crowd. “The lord is kind,” the farmers muttered. “She’ll reward us: it was a good harvest. If we have the best returns, we’ll be granted a tax reduction. We’ll eat like kings!”
At the head rode a large, broad-shouldered man with high cheekbones and narrowed eyes, like he was looking into the sun. His wide face and clear features seemed always on the verge of laughter. “Hakaru,” someone said. “Son of Lady Iyo.”
He looked so proud, she thought, so beautiful.
“Bow,” Koroku muttered. “Rui, lower your head.”
She did. They bent low before the horses’ hooves. Hakaru rode past, pausing only briefly, to say their fillies were some of the finest he’d ever seen. Then somebody whistled, and the warriors turned toward the open meadow where ge’in land-managers were setting up a ring. On normal days, they lorded over the lower no’in, having the right to own their own farms, but today they bounced and shuffled back and forth, acting like servants to the kijin-tai, who were about to begin their games.
“What’s going on?” Rui asked.
Koroku muttered, “Come. Better come away. Come, children! Come back to the road.” Even old Goro shuffled from the field, surrounded by small no’in boys and girls. Wizened Granny Chie, the headwoman, appeared at Rui’s side.
“Hunting,” she said. “Eh? En’t supposed to do it, but so they are. Hunting. Always hunting.” The crowd jostled. Whatever hopes Rui had of meeting the lords quickly disappeared – instead, a sour feeling welled in the back of her throat. In the field, the soldiers were setting up a ring over damp earth. There were crates. Barking dogs.
“What’s that for?”
Chie placed a hand on hers, pulling lightly, yet firmly, for her to leave. “Hush now,” she said, “we best be out of the way.”
Then, the crates were opened.
Dog-chasing, Rui knew, was an old tradition, a military exercise for training skills on horseback. One or two of the poor creatures would be loosed into a circular ring; then the kijin would come in, looping around on their horses, and practice shooting at live animals. It had been banned for years.
“Wait,” Rui said. “They can’t do this.” But Hakaru, still so impossibly pretty on his horse, had already drawn an arrow from his quiver. “How are they letting them do this…”
“Kijin, they’ll do what they want,” said Chie. “Come away.”
In a moment, the ring was done. The dog, terrified, was let loose. The horses whickered. The kijin, bows in hand, entered on their steeds, and began riding the perimeter, nocking arrows to their bows.
“Hunters,” Goro always said, darkly. “It’s what they do. To be a kijin is to kill. Isn’t pretty.”
She found herself pushing forward.They can’t do this, they can’t.
“Rui, stop,” Chie said.
“Fuckingno.” Rui spoke before she meant to. Before she realized what she’d done. Something changed in her, clear as night and day, as the line between right and wrong. And this was wrong. She raced forward and cried out again, to protect the panicked dog. Somewhere, Goro cried, “Rui!” but she leaped the barrier, landed near the scrawny thing, guarding it with her arms splayed out.
“You cannot kill this animal,” she cried. “Dogs are guardians, you can’t!”
On his horse, Hakaru sneered. “Out of the way, no’in!”
“You can’t! They’re O-ine’s messengers. Youcan’t.”
Hakaru scowled with impatience. His men drew their bows – and Rui gasped as eight blunt arrows came down at her, bouncing off the ground and smacking the dirt into her face. She clenched her teeth, shaking in terror, but didn’t move.
