The Twelve Kingdoms, vol. 2: Sea of Wind (Fuyumi Ono)

[chomiji]

On a holy mountain in the center of the Twelve Kingdoms, a fantastical creature - a chimera by definition, but called a lamia in the story - is born for the express purpose of nurturing the next-born kirin, one of the sacred beings who are the only ones who can make a king. She is given the name Sansi and settles down to wait for the lodestar of her life - whom she already calls by his formal name, Taiki - to finish gestation and be born. But a magical storm of great force blows across the mountain, and the embryonic kirin ends up in our world, in the womb of a normal human woman. Sansi is left bereft for 10 years.

Taiki is born a human child, into a troubled family that doesn't understand him. As we meet him, he's undergoing a punishment of being forced to stand outside without a coat, in the falling snow. It's not too surprising that when he suddenly sees something strange in the narrow space between the house and the shed - a human arm and hand, protruding from a space too small for such a limb to fit - he goes to investigate. And finds himself pulled into another world.

This story is a journey mainly of the mind and the heart - although we also learn a great deal of the mythology and ways of the Twelve Kingdoms. Taiki, raised to think of himself as human being who seemed to lack most of the attributes his family desired, is suddenly pampered and cherished - and charged with the destiny of entire kingdom. Will he ever be able to tap into the powers that a kirin rightfully born into its animal form knows how to use instinctively? And how can he possibly make a wise choice among the supplicants who seek the throne of the Kingdom of Tai? Sansi, born to essentially serve as his mother, is similarly left adrift by the arrival of her 10-year-old charge, whom she never got to nurse as a infant kirin (are they called fawns? - or kids, maybe?) and whom she cannot teach what he needs to know.

Despite the weirdness of the Twelve Kingdoms cosmology and biology - the way that both children and young animals are born still flips me out - I was touched by both Sansi's and Taiki's situations. When Taiki makes his choice - and nearly drives himself mad with doubts over it - it was all too easy to identify with his pain and bewilderment. The resolution of the situation is emotionally satisfying and involves some of my favorite characters from volume 1.

The Twelve Kingdoms, vol. 2: Sea of Wind (review)

So was I the only person who was distressed by Sansi's situation? Possibly this is because I am totally plugged into the mentality of the azi in C.J. Cherryh's Cyteen - the cloned human beings who are raised with hypnotic imprinting for various specific roles in life. Sansi made me think so much of Ari II's nurse Nelly, who only existed so that she could raise Ari and who became increasingly unhappy as the child needed her less and less. Only Sansi never gets a chance to nurse and raise her baby: Taiki shows up already at the age when a kirin should already be able to shift shape, run on the wind, and press demons into his service. But Sansi isn't mentally very complicated and doesn't dwell on her situation nearly as much as I do - although she's clearly saddened by the fact that she can't give Taiki what he needs.

Overall, I found the oracles of the mountain strangely clueless as to basic human needs - but then, they've never had to deal with a bereft basic human. It's sort of appalling that it takes the kirin Keiki - who is notoriously cool of temperament - to realize that Taiki is homesick. (And I'm not surprised, myself, that a 10-year-old boy might miss even an unhappy home.) The scene where Taiki is presented with the crowd of candidates for the kingship is unhappily reminiscent of an ordinary child who's been thrust into the spotlight by some accident of fate - the only survivor of some disaster, for example - being exposed to the media spotlight. I guess the oracles' calm reassurances that of course he'll pick the right king - that's what kirin do - were meant to reassure, but I didn't find it at all comforting.

The scene where Taiki manages to bind his first sirei is both moving and aggravating. Gyoso's manipulation of the situation certainly makes Taiki's later confusion and doubt over his choice of Gyoso as king seem all too reasonable. And the issues that Taiki noted when he was sitting in on Gyoso's planning sessions once they return to Tai - for example, the fact that Gyoso is merely humoring him by responding to some of Taiki's objections - are never really resolved, in my opinion. And I could have done with having Lady Risai show up as an advisor or something, although my guess is that she'd hate court life.

But the scene where the Ever-King and Enki show up and help show Taiki the truth about himself and his king almost makes up for it. Enki's slapping the Ever-King's hand away, and yelling at him: "Idiot ... You always take things too far!" is one of the best things ever. And the earlier scene in which Taiki finally discovers how to shift to his kirin form - is completely magical.

Comments

[meganbmoore.livejournal.com]

From the way she and Gyosei got along, I've always assumed(from first watching the anime a couple years ago) that Gyosei had Risai on his council in one way or another, or as one of his warlords.

Sansi's position(and that of other's like her) has always struck me as extremely sad, actually.

One thing that's always struck me about Taiki's story is that it seems to be going for the idea that having too much adoration and expectations and respect piled on you can be just as isolating and alienating as the complete rejection and hatred that Youko received.

Added Much Later ...

[chomiji]

Lots of aspects of the world are very cool, but given that people are shown as being just as nasty as they are in our world, I wonder what the upbringing of many children is like. In a non-technological world, having children is economically valuable if your business is something like farming. So people might want to have children even if they aren't loving toward children. In our world, hormones and instincts generally provide a dose of mother-love for infants. In the world of the Twelve Kingdoms, this isn't necessarily the case. Which may explain why kirin have special nurse-guardians, but that doesn't do much for the average child born (hatched?) into a poor or working class family.