The Raving tore through Kesuan for three days. It had begun gradually, as spring coming to the high peaks of the Dragon, and its beginnings were deep within him, with no fissures on the surface of the icy exterior to warn those around him.
The birdsong, which had embraced him like a lover, gradually absorbed his thoughts, his attention, his whole being. Kesuan served the Lord Daini, running errands, performing chores, and exercising with him in the evenings; but always the birds called to him, enticing him away from his duties, cajoling him to escape into that other world which soared around him, mocking him, toying with him, praying to him, always aware, always anxious, always demanding.
His duties began to wear on him; he slept little. In the night, the owl screeched across his mind like a soul torn from heaven, screaming its anger and its tormenting wisdom into Kesuan's mind. In the morning, the light, piping voices of the starlings and the sparrows welcomed the sun, and the prayers of the little birds calmed him a little. But as the day wore on the little birds began to bicker, to war, to challenge, and Kesuan was drawn into their petty debates, their minor strifes, their endless complaining. There was still joy, but it was marred by the discord in his soul, his sense of both belonging and alienation.
It was the fourth day after the armies of Daini had left the mountains behind, and were wandering south-easterly when the Raving first claimed Kesuan completely. He had been sent to gather wood and water for the evening's meal. He was reluctant to leave the company of men, where the birds were distant and afraid; he had little choice, however, for Daini himself had given him this task.
The stand of trees was not far, and it was not long before Kesuan could hear the birds calling to him, knowing of his coming, and eagerly awaiting his arrival. "Kesuan! Kesuan" they cried, each vying for his attention. "Kesuan! I am Eye-bright-like-morning, and I am the swiftest among the starlings! My eye flashes like dew under the sun, my wing is black as the shadow of Night! We have heard of your coming! Look! Look!"
"Look to me, son of Uzimaga! I am Ride-on-the-Heaven-Wind! My family lived in the linden trees over your home, and I followed you from the low hills of your province! No starling can compare to me in swiftness of wing or agility in the air..."
"Listen to me, Kesuan! Listen! You face a mighty test, and the shrikes know of your destiny. Heed! Listen! Know that it was we who first acknowledged you..."
They each piped in, always speaking, never listening, and they swooped around Kesuan, so that it seemed that his tattoos had wearied of the restrictions of forming his body, and had broken free and taken flight. "Kesuan! Listen to me! I am like you, young and proud of my ancient lineage!" "Was it not the birds which gave sustenance to Togashi? It is said among my family that the plum was chosen carefully, each bird having one vote..."
The noises grew, and Kesuan struggled to distinguish the voices, to locate the speakers, to find the center in the fury of color, the crash of discordant voices, the cacophony of competing desires.
"Kesuan!"
"Kesuan!"
"Kesuan!" Mikoto stood by him, and Kesuan felt his mind reeling in the swirling birds. He screamed, his voice sounding like a high birdcry, the death song of a swan, the piercing, exultant screech of the diving falcon. He felt a heat rise in his body; his blood burned beneath him, and the fires of the Blood rose in him one again, as it had not since the day of his gempekku not so long ago. But this time, the fire blazed across his tattoos, and light shone in the clearing in the dimming nighttime. He felt his body trembling, as though chilled, though his body was drenched in sweat. Mikoto was speaking to him, but Kesuan could not hear him, could not draw his attention away from the terrible vortex of color and riot around him. He screamed again, and leapt into the air, his arms reaching out as though to take flight.
He leapt high, clear from the small stand of trees, and the wind about him bore him up. The fire in his limbs grew stronger, and he felt his heart tremble with fear and loathing. The birds rose in a cloud around him, like a feathery nimbus, each one chanting his name and drawing near to him, touching him with wing and claw. He fell again to earth, his body seared with fire, his spirit twisting within him. The wind raced along and around him, tumbling him in his fall, and he crashed to earth, his limbs flaying wildly, as though he were a nestling fallen from the safety of the nest.
Mikoto was running towards him, but Kesuan saw only the land-beast, with sharpened claw and predatory eye. The beast was a thing of earth, tied to the land, a child of the soil. Kesuan drew himself to his feet, and his eyes were falcon-bright. He screamed his challenge, defiant. The fire in him rose again, and his hands spun out like talons. His limbs were strong, agile, and light. He lifted into the air again with a springing step.
Mikoto saw the youth rise in his mind, knew where the strike would fall, and stepped aside sharply, his hand striking forward to grasp the boy in the air. Kesuan slapped his hand away with a clawed hand, and Mikoto felt his flesh torn by the strike. Mikoto fell back, rolling easily to the left as Kesuan fell to earth, controlled this time, and spun about to find his prey. Mikoto saw in his mind the avenues of time, selected his future, and sprang up just as Kesuan launched himself once more. The birds rose again, drawing near to Kesuan to protect him, but Mikoto had foreseen this, and struck where no bird would shelter the youth; over his heart.
Mikoto's leg snapped across Kesuan's chest, his hand snaked to the left to grasp Kesuan's right wrist. Kesuan lashed out again, but the youth was young, half-trained, and wild in his mind like an animal, where Mikoto was older, wiser, and long-trained to the way of jiujutsu. The birds flung themselves at him, but Mikoto endured their sharp beaks and claws, drawing the boy back to the stand of trees, There, he threw himself and Kesuan into the water, where most of the birds would not go.
Kesuan struggled again, fiercely, as a bird caught in a trap, but Mikoto grappled with him, controlling him, enduring the battering that Kesuan gave out. Finally, Kesuan's mind seemed to clear, for others had come from the camp: monks from the Keep, Mirumoto bushi from the Palace, Daini himself. Mikoto heard the silence in the trees, and knew that the birds had departed, though their song drifted from far away, sounding like challenges even to his untrained ears. Kesuan wept, his eyes wild and untamed, and Mikoto lifted him from the waters like a child and carried him back to the encampment.