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Authors: Fuyumi Ono
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proposition. Now it seemed that he had at last changed his mind.
"If the Chousai was supposed to run the kingdom, then the Marquis ought to be doing so instead. But if he was to recommend someone like myself to be the Chousai, then I believed he must take the higher position for himself. He never explicitly denied that he might do so. Yet today, out of the blue, he stated he was leaving the capital and returning to Kei Province!"
Gekkei should have understood the extent to which the other ministers had misunderstood his recommendation. But he never once sought to correct those mistaken assumptions. When he thought about it now, Gekkei must have known this all along. Had the ministers grasped what was going on, they never would have agreed to appoint Shouyou Chousai.
He had not only failed to correct these mistaken beliefs, but from the start he had done his best—by omission—to foster them.
"He says that he is a Province Lord, not an Imperial minister, and his job is to govern his province, not the kingdom. While it may have been necessary to trespass upon that authority in order to calm the chaos, it would be impermissible for him, as a Province Lord, to trespass upon that authority in order to rule the kingdom. He's still sticking to that same old argument!"
Tears of rage and disappointment fell on the hands grasping his knees. Shouyou knew that he could not fill Gekkei's shoes. Gekkei had slain Chuutatsu and stopped the slaughter. The faith of the ministers and the people in him was absolute. To retreat to his province, even after appointing Shouyou Chousai—both the people and the government officials needed someone to bind them together. All the more so there being no king to keep the kingdom from sliding into oblivion.
Shouyou couldn't deny the expectation that this was something only Gekkei could do, that they needed him to do. The same year they had struck down Chuutatsu, he had executed at least three-hundred thousands of his subjects, perversely spurred on by the shitsudou afflicting Hourin. Even then, Shouyou and his colleagues had hemmed and hawed. They pitied the people, they lamented the state of the Kingdom, but couldn't muster the courage to mention the word "regicide."
Gekkei was the only one who voiced the possibility, who took action. They saw nothing wrong in placing their faith and expectations in him. They believed that he would continue to lead them as he had during the insurrection. As far as the people were concerned, no matter what became of the Kingdom after this, they were sure that it was Gekkei who had saved them.
Nevertheless, Gekkei seemed determined to turn all that faith and all those expectations into futility.
Shouyou couldn't understand why he'd wallowed in such pain and misery up to now. Looking back on it now, when Gekkei returned to his palace in Kei Province following the uprising, his intentions had been clear. When he'd returned to the Imperial Palace in response to their entreaties, he'd declared he had no inclination of taking on any official Imperial position, and was there only to offer advice. He had not given up the title of Province Lord, nor shown the slightest interest in searching out a replacement.
In retrospect, there was no denying that Gekkei was a Province Lord through and through. Despite making his resolution on that matter clear, Shouyou and his colleagues had shut their eyes and covered their ears. Their failure to comprehend the true nature of the situation was their own.
He could grasp all this with his head. But not in his heart. He felt betrayed, tossed aside like a spurned lover. No matter how irrational his bitterness and anger, he could not be the only one who felt that way. In fact, when Gekkei had uttered those remarks at the Privy Council, the entire hall had all but frozen over. After the undersecretary came to fetch Gekkei away, the place had erupted into wails of grief and outbursts of verbal abuse.
Gekkei had probably returned to the
"If the Chousai was supposed to run the kingdom, then the Marquis ought to be doing so instead. But if he was to recommend someone like myself to be the Chousai, then I believed he must take the higher position for himself. He never explicitly denied that he might do so. Yet today, out of the blue, he stated he was leaving the capital and returning to Kei Province!"
Gekkei should have understood the extent to which the other ministers had misunderstood his recommendation. But he never once sought to correct those mistaken assumptions. When he thought about it now, Gekkei must have known this all along. Had the ministers grasped what was going on, they never would have agreed to appoint Shouyou Chousai.
He had not only failed to correct these mistaken beliefs, but from the start he had done his best—by omission—to foster them.
"He says that he is a Province Lord, not an Imperial minister, and his job is to govern his province, not the kingdom. While it may have been necessary to trespass upon that authority in order to calm the chaos, it would be impermissible for him, as a Province Lord, to trespass upon that authority in order to rule the kingdom. He's still sticking to that same old argument!"
Tears of rage and disappointment fell on the hands grasping his knees. Shouyou knew that he could not fill Gekkei's shoes. Gekkei had slain Chuutatsu and stopped the slaughter. The faith of the ministers and the people in him was absolute. To retreat to his province, even after appointing Shouyou Chousai—both the people and the government officials needed someone to bind them together. All the more so there being no king to keep the kingdom from sliding into oblivion.
Shouyou couldn't deny the expectation that this was something only Gekkei could do, that they needed him to do. The same year they had struck down Chuutatsu, he had executed at least three-hundred thousands of his subjects, perversely spurred on by the shitsudou afflicting Hourin. Even then, Shouyou and his colleagues had hemmed and hawed. They pitied the people, they lamented the state of the Kingdom, but couldn't muster the courage to mention the word "regicide."
Gekkei was the only one who voiced the possibility, who took action. They saw nothing wrong in placing their faith and expectations in him. They believed that he would continue to lead them as he had during the insurrection. As far as the people were concerned, no matter what became of the Kingdom after this, they were sure that it was Gekkei who had saved them.
Nevertheless, Gekkei seemed determined to turn all that faith and all those expectations into futility.
Shouyou couldn't understand why he'd wallowed in such pain and misery up to now. Looking back on it now, when Gekkei returned to his palace in Kei Province following the uprising, his intentions had been clear. When he'd returned to the Imperial Palace in response to their entreaties, he'd declared he had no inclination of taking on any official Imperial position, and was there only to offer advice. He had not given up the title of Province Lord, nor shown the slightest interest in searching out a replacement.
In retrospect, there was no denying that Gekkei was a Province Lord through and through. Despite making his resolution on that matter clear, Shouyou and his colleagues had shut their eyes and covered their ears. Their failure to comprehend the true nature of the situation was their own.
He could grasp all this with his head. But not in his heart. He felt betrayed, tossed aside like a spurned lover. No matter how irrational his bitterness and anger, he could not be the only one who felt that way. In fact, when Gekkei had uttered those remarks at the Privy Council, the entire hall had all but frozen over. After the undersecretary came to fetch Gekkei away, the place had erupted into wails of grief and outbursts of verbal abuse.
Gekkei had probably returned to the
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