Birds in their Nests
Chapter 3
As summer ended the nights became cooler, the days longer. The leaves started to turn and birds began to disappear, seeking out their warm home in the south away from winter’s chill.
The coming of autumn also was the beginning of Yamada’s confinement. Starting just before her baby was to be born, and ending a month after the birth. During this time, Kokoro explained, she was to stay in the horse and rest as much as possible.
“And wrap up warmly,” said the midwife. “The wind is chilly, the baby must stay warm.”
Kokoro also insisted on a diet of “warm foods” and tasked Kyoumi with making sure it was stuck to.
“But what about Yoru?” Yamada asked Kyoumi later. “He needs exercise. He can’t stay in the stable all day.”
“Don’t worry, I spoke to Utaku Shironoya,” said Kyoumi reassuringly. “He will send someone daily to attend to him.”
In the coming days, Yamada’s world grew smaller. And it felt strange for her life to be arranged around her, like she was a child again and needed to be cared for.
One afternoon, Kousuda arrived back. He was pleased to be home but was a little amused to be greeted by two pregnant women.
“What has been going on here while I’ve been away?” he asked, trying to contain his laughter.
Yamada scowled at him, trying to stalk away but it was more like a waddle.
Like a brood mare, she thought in frustration.
At dinner, Kousuda was full of news from the road. Particularly from the Unicorn.
“They have managed to take back Far North Village,” he told Yamada. “I don’t know all of the details, but I do know the Crab troops we were promised would only just have arrived.”
“It would have been the Dragon that assisted us. Lord Shikei was very keen to help, renew the old alliance,” said Yamada, remembering back to her meeting with him the previous winter. “It is so good we have a foot hold…but if only I could be there.” She sighed. “Have you heard anything about the Legion? Of Hikahime? I asked down at their barracks when I was there, but they couldn’t tell me anything.”
“Not as much,” Kousuda said. “All I have heard is they are heading south, though there’s a number of things they could be doing. I supposed we will have to ask Karasu when he arrives for court.”
While he was home, Kousuda spent a considerable part of his day locked in his workshop, a small hut on the far side of the garden. From the explosions Yamada could hear inside, she didn’t need to be told to stay clear.
Then one night, a few days after Kousuda had returned, Yamada woke up from a deep sleep to find her bed soaked. She quickly sat up, lighting the lamp. It wasn’t blood, it was water. Her heart beat fast, she could feel her belly contract, strong and hard.
“Izumi!” Yamada shouted. The girl had been sleeping in the next room in case she was needed during the night. “Go and wake Kyoumi and then run for the midwife.”
“Is it…time…Utaku-sama?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” said Yamada. “The baby is coming.”
Kyoumi was with Yamada before even Izumi was out the door. She had thrown on an old yukata, her hair hastily tied back with a scarf. She was calm, not even the slightest worry showing on her face.
When the contractions came, and they came often, Kyoumi was right there as Yamada breathed through them. Encouraging her, holding her hand.
Izumi then arrived with the midwife who immediately took charge. Kokoro gave curt, quick orders to her apprentice Nibui and the servants, then giving all her attention to Yamada.
“Hello, my dear, I heard your baby was coming and it looks like he is,” she said cheerily. “Nothing to worry about. Let’s just get you on your back for a moment so we can see how baby is doing in there.”
Kyoumi and Kokoro rolled Yamada onto her back, Kyoumi staying near Yamada’s head while the midwife examined her.
“Very good, baby is right where he should be,” she said, getting back her up to a kneeling position with Kyoumi’s help. “Up now, there’s the dear. All we need to do now is await his arrival, which I don’t think shall be very long.”
Kyoumi and Kokoro then removed Yamada’s clothes, including her undergarments and dressed her in a loose yukata which they tied loose over her chest. On the other side of the room, Nibui was laying out a series of large cloths on the floor with assistance from Izumi and her mother Sumiko. And when that was ready, Kokoro and Kyoumi helped Yamada move onto it, rolling up some more lengths of cloth for her to lean on or rest upon if she wanted to.
The contractions were strong, but Yamada was able to bear them stoically. Resting gratefully between them, even managing to drink some tea and have a few bites of food when Kyoumi offered it. The food and drink gave her much needed strength to fight the pain, letting herself only make a low moan when the pain reached its peak. She bore it because she had to, it was the duty of all samurai women to bear children, to have heir to carry on the family legacy. Duty was what she had had with her all her life, this was but one more.
Besides, she had seen women in labour before. Utaku women normally gathered around the mother for a birth, not just the nearest relatives such as her mother’s and sisters, but as many as the birthing chomchog could fit. This was something all women and girls needed to see, the duty that was ahead of them.
I know what happens, thought Yamada, I can do this.
Through it all, Kokoro was calm, almost relaxed but still perfectly in charge. She kept talking to keep the mood light. She told jokes, related stories from the births she had seen, asked Kyoumi about her flowers and debated with Sumiko the best way of cooking daikon.
The contractions then started to come stronger, harder. Hitting her body with the force of a horse at full gallop. The room swam before her, the faces and voices blended together. She called out to them, confused. She wanted her mother, her sisters, her husband. Where were they? Why weren’t they helping her? Why wouldn’t anyone help her expel this weight, this boulder inside her?
“Mother…mother…where are you?” Yamada called out, her voice was high and fearful, like a child.
“Please, don’t shout,” said Nibui reproachfully. “It can worry the baby.”
Yamada turned towards her, flailing out a hand that collided with Nibui’s face and sending her sprawling on the floor.
Kokoro chuckled. “Stay with me, my dear, this is good,” she said, smiling reassuringly at Yamada and at Kyoumi. “Breathe, you are doing so well.”
That brightened Yamada a little. She grabbed Kyoumi’s hand tight, panting, beads of sweat rolling down her face. The pain intensified, buckling her knees and she would have fallen over had Kyoumi not held her strong.
“Stay strong, Yamada,” she said, looking into her eyes reassuringly.
“Is it almost over?” asked Yamada. The question was not directed at Kyoumi, but anyone who might tell her yes.”
“Not quite, my dear,” said the midwife, her voice coming from behind Yamada. “Baby is almost at the door and you are doing a splendid job.”
Yamada closed her eyes, leaning hard on Kyoumi, groaning loudly. Why had she thought she could handle this? How could any woman do this more than once? This was a battle, unlike any she had fought, her own body fighting against her. She fought hard, but it sapped her strength.
“Baby is at the door now,” said Kokoro. “You have been so strong my dear, this is the last part. Bear down, bring him into the world.”
Somehow, spurred on by Kokoro’s words, Yamada found the strength to go on, to fight just a bit longer. She crushed Kyoumi’s hand from the effort of it, bellowing curses as if she was charging into battle.
And then, cutting through her shouts and urging of the other women, was a cry. Soft at first, like the mew of a kitten. Then louder, robust and full of life. Yamada wept tears of joy.
“My baby, my baby…” she said breathlessly, she lay limp against Kyoumi. She smiled, the pain completely forgotten. “Let me see him!”
“Here he is,” said Kokoro, holding him up. He was small, wrinkled, red and pale. “A fine boy, you should be proud.”
Kyoumi helped her lie down, but Yamada’s eyes were focused on the baby. Her baby, hers and Nakura’s. Their son. Her arms ached to hold him, but she waited. Watching Kokoro bathe him in warm water. She wiped away the pale grease to reveal dark, dusky skin.
Yamada laughed. “Look at him! He’s a little Moto!” Smiling at everyone. Happy at the whole world and wanting the world to share in her happiness.
But that was nothing compared to what she felt when her son was put in her arms. It was like a new dawn after a long night, a brilliant flower opening on a bright spring morning. To hold her child, her son in her arms was more happiness than she thought her heart could hold.
Nakura, where are you? Can see our child? Our son? He’s so beautiful and perfect. I love you…
She ran her fingers through his hair. Soft black hair, curling against his head. He opened his eyes to look at her. Brown and gentle, like deep pools of water.
Just like his father…
She stroked his cheek tenderly, calling her son by his name.
“Harun.” It had been her father’s name, the dark wild Moto who was descended from the Ujik-kai of the desert. That had been humbled by the love of her strong, silent mother.
Things were going on around her, but Yamada didn’t care. She felt them wash her, change her clothes. She didn’t fight, so long as they didn’t take Harun away.
When they were done, Kokoro then helped Yamada put Harun to her breast. He nursed easily, hungrily, then falling asleep in Yamada’s arms. She smiled at Kyoumi, she was tired.
“Thank you, for everything,” Yamada said.
“Rest now,” said Kyoumi, covering both mother and child in a blanket.
Yamada was asleep before Kyoumi even left the room.
When she woke up hours later, for a moment Yamada thought the night before was some sort of dream. But Harun slept beside her. His eyes buttoned shut, wrapped in a white blanket.
For a while she just laid there, watching him sleep. Then Harun started to wake, crying softly.
Izumi, who had been sleeping on the floor in the same room, roused herself and helped Yamada sit up so she could feed Harun, putting firm cushions behind her to support her back. She then brought Yamada a tray of food and some tea, and then when Harun was asleep once more, she helped her dress and fix her hair.
When this was done, and Harun was sleeping in her arms again, there came a soft tap on the door. It was Kyoumi.
“How are you this morning?” she asked, sitting beside Yamada. “Have you rested?”
“I have, you need to rest too, Kyoumi,” Yamada reminded her. Kyoumi’s baby was due in late winter, early spring.
“Oh, I did,” she said, her grey eyes bright and cheerful. She looked down at Harun sleeping in Yamada’s arms. “May I…may I hold him?”
“Of course,” said Yamada, holding Harun out for Kyoumi to take.
Kyoumi cradled Harun in her arms, smiling down on him as he slept, stroking his curly black hair. In the daylight, the darkness of his skin was more noticeable, contrasting sharply against the white swaddling blanket. “He is a little treasure, Yamada,” she said. “I’m guessing his looks favour your Moto ancestors?”
Yamada nodded. “I named him for my father, Harun.”
“Well, hello there, little Harun-kun,” she said softly.
“Kyoumi,” Yamada said, feeling as if what barriers remained between them had been swept away the night before. “I want to thank you for what you did for me last night. You being there gave me the strength I needed.”
Kyoumi shook her head, still smiling. “I hardly did anything,” she said modestly.
“You did everything just by being there,” she said. “And I would be honoured to do the same for you when your time comes.”
Kyoumi looked a little embarrassed by Yamada’s candour. But she took it in her stride. “Well, thank you and I was glad I could be of help,” she said.
Harun took this moment to open his eyes and looked up at Kyoumi.
Those soft brown eyes, so much like Nakura’s….
He then turned his head towards Kyoumi’s chest, moving his mouth in a way akin to a gulping fish.
“I think he needs feeding again,” said Yamada, taking Harun from Kyoumi.
Kyoumi discreetly left, returning a short while later to ask if Yamada could receive a visitor. When Yamada said yes, Kyoumi opened the door to reveal Iuchi Hiroshige.
“Hiroshige-san,” she said gladly, nodding in greeting to him as she couldn’t stand to bow. He had been the Unicorn delegation’s shugenja at court the previous winter. He had presided over Kousuda and Kyoumi’s wedding and Nakura’s funeral. He also spoken much needed words of comfort to Yamada on the night after Nakura had died. And here he was again, to do the purification as he had done on that fateful night.
“It is good to see you again, Yamada-san,” he said. “You are looking very well. How is the little one?”
“Very well, he is sleeping,” said Yamada, looking down at Harun with a smile.
“Not to worry, I can do all of this without waking him,” he said, reaching down to take the baby from her. “What is his name?”
“Harun,” she told him.
“Harun, a strong name, may it serve him well,” Hiroshige said solemnly. He held Harun in his firm capable hands as he performed the purification rite and the blessing. His ease with babies was no surprise as he was both a father and a grandfather. “May the way always be clear for you, Harun. May your steed be swift and the wind always at your back.”
Later on, Yamada sent for Kousuda. The former Ide was jovial, gladly holding Harun in his arms, perhaps thinking it would not be long until he held his own child.
But there was a reason Yamada wanted to speak to him.
“I know you’re a Crane now,” she said. “But if you don’t mind, would you be able to do a Unicorn tradition? Just this once?”
“Of course, Yamada,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
Yamada smiled. “I think you’ll know.”
In the stables at the back of his house, Kousuda saddled his horse. His tack was in the pale blue of the Crane, but around his horse’s neck he tied a string of bells and tassels. Purple, but Yamada said Yoru wouldn’t mind if Kousuda borrowed it.
As he rode by the side of the house, Yamada could hear the hoofbeats on the stones and the jangling of bells.
Kousuda then rode out onto the streets of Otosan Uchi, proclaiming to all he encountered that a child had been born in his house that day. A boy named Utaku Harun.
Chapter 3
As summer ended the nights became cooler, the days longer. The leaves started to turn and birds began to disappear, seeking out their warm home in the south away from winter’s chill.
The coming of autumn also was the beginning of Yamada’s confinement. Starting just before her baby was to be born, and ending a month after the birth. During this time, Kokoro explained, she was to stay in the horse and rest as much as possible.
“And wrap up warmly,” said the midwife. “The wind is chilly, the baby must stay warm.”
Kokoro also insisted on a diet of “warm foods” and tasked Kyoumi with making sure it was stuck to.
“But what about Yoru?” Yamada asked Kyoumi later. “He needs exercise. He can’t stay in the stable all day.”
“Don’t worry, I spoke to Utaku Shironoya,” said Kyoumi reassuringly. “He will send someone daily to attend to him.”
In the coming days, Yamada’s world grew smaller. And it felt strange for her life to be arranged around her, like she was a child again and needed to be cared for.
One afternoon, Kousuda arrived back. He was pleased to be home but was a little amused to be greeted by two pregnant women.
“What has been going on here while I’ve been away?” he asked, trying to contain his laughter.
Yamada scowled at him, trying to stalk away but it was more like a waddle.
Like a brood mare, she thought in frustration.
At dinner, Kousuda was full of news from the road. Particularly from the Unicorn.
“They have managed to take back Far North Village,” he told Yamada. “I don’t know all of the details, but I do know the Crab troops we were promised would only just have arrived.”
“It would have been the Dragon that assisted us. Lord Shikei was very keen to help, renew the old alliance,” said Yamada, remembering back to her meeting with him the previous winter. “It is so good we have a foot hold…but if only I could be there.” She sighed. “Have you heard anything about the Legion? Of Hikahime? I asked down at their barracks when I was there, but they couldn’t tell me anything.”
“Not as much,” Kousuda said. “All I have heard is they are heading south, though there’s a number of things they could be doing. I supposed we will have to ask Karasu when he arrives for court.”
While he was home, Kousuda spent a considerable part of his day locked in his workshop, a small hut on the far side of the garden. From the explosions Yamada could hear inside, she didn’t need to be told to stay clear.
Then one night, a few days after Kousuda had returned, Yamada woke up from a deep sleep to find her bed soaked. She quickly sat up, lighting the lamp. It wasn’t blood, it was water. Her heart beat fast, she could feel her belly contract, strong and hard.
“Izumi!” Yamada shouted. The girl had been sleeping in the next room in case she was needed during the night. “Go and wake Kyoumi and then run for the midwife.”
“Is it…time…Utaku-sama?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” said Yamada. “The baby is coming.”
Kyoumi was with Yamada before even Izumi was out the door. She had thrown on an old yukata, her hair hastily tied back with a scarf. She was calm, not even the slightest worry showing on her face.
When the contractions came, and they came often, Kyoumi was right there as Yamada breathed through them. Encouraging her, holding her hand.
Izumi then arrived with the midwife who immediately took charge. Kokoro gave curt, quick orders to her apprentice Nibui and the servants, then giving all her attention to Yamada.
“Hello, my dear, I heard your baby was coming and it looks like he is,” she said cheerily. “Nothing to worry about. Let’s just get you on your back for a moment so we can see how baby is doing in there.”
Kyoumi and Kokoro rolled Yamada onto her back, Kyoumi staying near Yamada’s head while the midwife examined her.
“Very good, baby is right where he should be,” she said, getting back her up to a kneeling position with Kyoumi’s help. “Up now, there’s the dear. All we need to do now is await his arrival, which I don’t think shall be very long.”
Kyoumi and Kokoro then removed Yamada’s clothes, including her undergarments and dressed her in a loose yukata which they tied loose over her chest. On the other side of the room, Nibui was laying out a series of large cloths on the floor with assistance from Izumi and her mother Sumiko. And when that was ready, Kokoro and Kyoumi helped Yamada move onto it, rolling up some more lengths of cloth for her to lean on or rest upon if she wanted to.
The contractions were strong, but Yamada was able to bear them stoically. Resting gratefully between them, even managing to drink some tea and have a few bites of food when Kyoumi offered it. The food and drink gave her much needed strength to fight the pain, letting herself only make a low moan when the pain reached its peak. She bore it because she had to, it was the duty of all samurai women to bear children, to have heir to carry on the family legacy. Duty was what she had had with her all her life, this was but one more.
Besides, she had seen women in labour before. Utaku women normally gathered around the mother for a birth, not just the nearest relatives such as her mother’s and sisters, but as many as the birthing chomchog could fit. This was something all women and girls needed to see, the duty that was ahead of them.
I know what happens, thought Yamada, I can do this.
Through it all, Kokoro was calm, almost relaxed but still perfectly in charge. She kept talking to keep the mood light. She told jokes, related stories from the births she had seen, asked Kyoumi about her flowers and debated with Sumiko the best way of cooking daikon.
The contractions then started to come stronger, harder. Hitting her body with the force of a horse at full gallop. The room swam before her, the faces and voices blended together. She called out to them, confused. She wanted her mother, her sisters, her husband. Where were they? Why weren’t they helping her? Why wouldn’t anyone help her expel this weight, this boulder inside her?
“Mother…mother…where are you?” Yamada called out, her voice was high and fearful, like a child.
“Please, don’t shout,” said Nibui reproachfully. “It can worry the baby.”
Yamada turned towards her, flailing out a hand that collided with Nibui’s face and sending her sprawling on the floor.
Kokoro chuckled. “Stay with me, my dear, this is good,” she said, smiling reassuringly at Yamada and at Kyoumi. “Breathe, you are doing so well.”
That brightened Yamada a little. She grabbed Kyoumi’s hand tight, panting, beads of sweat rolling down her face. The pain intensified, buckling her knees and she would have fallen over had Kyoumi not held her strong.
“Stay strong, Yamada,” she said, looking into her eyes reassuringly.
“Is it almost over?” asked Yamada. The question was not directed at Kyoumi, but anyone who might tell her yes.”
“Not quite, my dear,” said the midwife, her voice coming from behind Yamada. “Baby is almost at the door and you are doing a splendid job.”
Yamada closed her eyes, leaning hard on Kyoumi, groaning loudly. Why had she thought she could handle this? How could any woman do this more than once? This was a battle, unlike any she had fought, her own body fighting against her. She fought hard, but it sapped her strength.
“Baby is at the door now,” said Kokoro. “You have been so strong my dear, this is the last part. Bear down, bring him into the world.”
Somehow, spurred on by Kokoro’s words, Yamada found the strength to go on, to fight just a bit longer. She crushed Kyoumi’s hand from the effort of it, bellowing curses as if she was charging into battle.
And then, cutting through her shouts and urging of the other women, was a cry. Soft at first, like the mew of a kitten. Then louder, robust and full of life. Yamada wept tears of joy.
“My baby, my baby…” she said breathlessly, she lay limp against Kyoumi. She smiled, the pain completely forgotten. “Let me see him!”
“Here he is,” said Kokoro, holding him up. He was small, wrinkled, red and pale. “A fine boy, you should be proud.”
Kyoumi helped her lie down, but Yamada’s eyes were focused on the baby. Her baby, hers and Nakura’s. Their son. Her arms ached to hold him, but she waited. Watching Kokoro bathe him in warm water. She wiped away the pale grease to reveal dark, dusky skin.
Yamada laughed. “Look at him! He’s a little Moto!” Smiling at everyone. Happy at the whole world and wanting the world to share in her happiness.
But that was nothing compared to what she felt when her son was put in her arms. It was like a new dawn after a long night, a brilliant flower opening on a bright spring morning. To hold her child, her son in her arms was more happiness than she thought her heart could hold.
Nakura, where are you? Can see our child? Our son? He’s so beautiful and perfect. I love you…
She ran her fingers through his hair. Soft black hair, curling against his head. He opened his eyes to look at her. Brown and gentle, like deep pools of water.
Just like his father…
She stroked his cheek tenderly, calling her son by his name.
“Harun.” It had been her father’s name, the dark wild Moto who was descended from the Ujik-kai of the desert. That had been humbled by the love of her strong, silent mother.
Things were going on around her, but Yamada didn’t care. She felt them wash her, change her clothes. She didn’t fight, so long as they didn’t take Harun away.
When they were done, Kokoro then helped Yamada put Harun to her breast. He nursed easily, hungrily, then falling asleep in Yamada’s arms. She smiled at Kyoumi, she was tired.
“Thank you, for everything,” Yamada said.
“Rest now,” said Kyoumi, covering both mother and child in a blanket.
Yamada was asleep before Kyoumi even left the room.
When she woke up hours later, for a moment Yamada thought the night before was some sort of dream. But Harun slept beside her. His eyes buttoned shut, wrapped in a white blanket.
For a while she just laid there, watching him sleep. Then Harun started to wake, crying softly.
Izumi, who had been sleeping on the floor in the same room, roused herself and helped Yamada sit up so she could feed Harun, putting firm cushions behind her to support her back. She then brought Yamada a tray of food and some tea, and then when Harun was asleep once more, she helped her dress and fix her hair.
When this was done, and Harun was sleeping in her arms again, there came a soft tap on the door. It was Kyoumi.
“How are you this morning?” she asked, sitting beside Yamada. “Have you rested?”
“I have, you need to rest too, Kyoumi,” Yamada reminded her. Kyoumi’s baby was due in late winter, early spring.
“Oh, I did,” she said, her grey eyes bright and cheerful. She looked down at Harun sleeping in Yamada’s arms. “May I…may I hold him?”
“Of course,” said Yamada, holding Harun out for Kyoumi to take.
Kyoumi cradled Harun in her arms, smiling down on him as he slept, stroking his curly black hair. In the daylight, the darkness of his skin was more noticeable, contrasting sharply against the white swaddling blanket. “He is a little treasure, Yamada,” she said. “I’m guessing his looks favour your Moto ancestors?”
Yamada nodded. “I named him for my father, Harun.”
“Well, hello there, little Harun-kun,” she said softly.
“Kyoumi,” Yamada said, feeling as if what barriers remained between them had been swept away the night before. “I want to thank you for what you did for me last night. You being there gave me the strength I needed.”
Kyoumi shook her head, still smiling. “I hardly did anything,” she said modestly.
“You did everything just by being there,” she said. “And I would be honoured to do the same for you when your time comes.”
Kyoumi looked a little embarrassed by Yamada’s candour. But she took it in her stride. “Well, thank you and I was glad I could be of help,” she said.
Harun took this moment to open his eyes and looked up at Kyoumi.
Those soft brown eyes, so much like Nakura’s….
He then turned his head towards Kyoumi’s chest, moving his mouth in a way akin to a gulping fish.
“I think he needs feeding again,” said Yamada, taking Harun from Kyoumi.
Kyoumi discreetly left, returning a short while later to ask if Yamada could receive a visitor. When Yamada said yes, Kyoumi opened the door to reveal Iuchi Hiroshige.
“Hiroshige-san,” she said gladly, nodding in greeting to him as she couldn’t stand to bow. He had been the Unicorn delegation’s shugenja at court the previous winter. He had presided over Kousuda and Kyoumi’s wedding and Nakura’s funeral. He also spoken much needed words of comfort to Yamada on the night after Nakura had died. And here he was again, to do the purification as he had done on that fateful night.
“It is good to see you again, Yamada-san,” he said. “You are looking very well. How is the little one?”
“Very well, he is sleeping,” said Yamada, looking down at Harun with a smile.
“Not to worry, I can do all of this without waking him,” he said, reaching down to take the baby from her. “What is his name?”
“Harun,” she told him.
“Harun, a strong name, may it serve him well,” Hiroshige said solemnly. He held Harun in his firm capable hands as he performed the purification rite and the blessing. His ease with babies was no surprise as he was both a father and a grandfather. “May the way always be clear for you, Harun. May your steed be swift and the wind always at your back.”
Later on, Yamada sent for Kousuda. The former Ide was jovial, gladly holding Harun in his arms, perhaps thinking it would not be long until he held his own child.
But there was a reason Yamada wanted to speak to him.
“I know you’re a Crane now,” she said. “But if you don’t mind, would you be able to do a Unicorn tradition? Just this once?”
“Of course, Yamada,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
Yamada smiled. “I think you’ll know.”
In the stables at the back of his house, Kousuda saddled his horse. His tack was in the pale blue of the Crane, but around his horse’s neck he tied a string of bells and tassels. Purple, but Yamada said Yoru wouldn’t mind if Kousuda borrowed it.
As he rode by the side of the house, Yamada could hear the hoofbeats on the stones and the jangling of bells.
Kousuda then rode out onto the streets of Otosan Uchi, proclaiming to all he encountered that a child had been born in his house that day. A boy named Utaku Harun.
