The silence was absolute.
Black-and-gold banners draped the walls like mourning shrouds.
Hundreds—no, thousands of soldiers in funeral sashes lined the causeway.
Beyond them, a countless throng of common folk stood waiting in silence. The only noises were pennants snapping in the wind, the distant thrashing of the sea, and a quickly-hushed baby’s cry.
As I passed the first rank of armored men, they dropped to their knees in waves, laying arms on the ground before them and pressing foreheads to the earth.
Their silence thundered louder than any cheer.
They are mourning Father and Kioshi, I told myself.This isn’t for me. It’s all for them.
But I knew better.
My escort parted at the gates. Esumi and all behind me reined in their mounts.
I rode forward alone.
There, beneath the ancient archway that led into the grandest city the Empire had ever known, stood my entire family in full Imperial regalia.
Uncle Rei’s scowl was visible even behind his war mask.
My other uncles stood to his right.
Mother and my young sister Sakura stood to the left.
My ancient grandmother—who hadn’t left the palace in years—stood waiting for me, her weathered hand clutching the ornate walking stick that rarely left her side.
I dismounted fifty paces from where they stood, my legs barely holding me upright as I strode forward, desperate to look regal despite feeling every bit a fool.
One by one, they kneeled.
My uncles first. Even Rei, after a moment’s defiant glare, lowered himself, his armored helmet finding the underside ofhis arm as his head bowed and he pressed his forehead to the ground.
Only Mother and Grandmother remained upright.
Aiya’s smile warmed me like summer sun. She gripped Mother’s arm and folded herself down, though her eyes held mine until the last second.
Then Mother.
Her chin lifted as she inspected me, her scowl matching Rei’s. I forced myself to meet her gaze while inside the boy who was never enough wept at her disapproval.
Finally, she bent the knee.
In a sea of humanity cowed before their liege, only I remained upright.
How I did, I may never know.
In that moment of terrible stillness, the clouds parted, and sunlight streamed down, warm across my cheeks. I gazed skyward, hoping to see the goddess smiling down or some other divine act of blessing or encouragement. Nothing so grand peered down, though one of the nearby Shinto priests muttered in awe, “Amaterasu’s blessing,” loud enough to be heard across the quiet courtyard.
Uncle Satoshi, Father’s Grand Minister of State, pushed himself upright and bellowed, “Praise Amaterasu,Kamiof Light and Queen of Heaven. Praise Izanagi, Father of the Isles.”
His voice caught as his throat bobbed, and his eyes flicked toward the sky, unable to meet mine.
“Praise Akira HaruTenno, Son of Heaven.”
From their knees, thousands echoed:
