"Water Rooster" is an English convenience. The year's real name is two
characters, 癸酉, guiyou: a heavenly stem, gui,
which is yin Water and supplies the element, and an earthly
branch, you, which carries the Rooster and is Metal in its own
right. The Huainanzi, a Han compendium finished before 139 BC, assigns both in
a single sentence. Ten stems against twelve branches make sixty names before the
first comes round again, and guiyou is number 10 of the sixty, which is why the
same Water Rooster last appeared in 1933 and
returns in 2053. The twenty-two characters and
the sixty names each have a page of their own.
Every pair of years in the sixty-year count shares a poetic third name, the nayin or "received sound," and 1993 is the second, yin half of metal of the sword edge, the sound it shares with 1992. The Ming manual that every later almanac copied, the Sanming Tonghui of 1578, gives the pair the most martial entry of the thirty: the White Emperor holds power, hardness comes from a hundred firings, a red light shoots at the Dipper and the Ox, a white blade congeals in frost and snow. This metal cannot be born without water, it says; it is the sharpest of all metals; only water suits it and fire does not.
Why the Rooster, of all creatures, carries a blade is a fair question, and the manual answers it without mentioning the bird at all. It reads the twelve branches as a human life, and the Rooster's branch, you, sits with the Monkey's at the harvest, the season when things are gathered in and a person withdraws and comes to rest. You is also, with shen, the proper seat of metal in the five-element scheme, and the stem of 1993, gui, is yin water. Metal in its own seat, tempered by water: that, the book says, is a sword edge, the point at which metal's usefulness reaches its peak. The animal came to the branch centuries after the branch came to the calendar, so the Rooster inherited the sword rather than earning it, which is the kind of thing worth knowing before anyone sells you a "sword-edge Rooster personality."
The manual does say one thing about guiyou meeting its own kind, meaning two pillars in one chart. Metal likes metal, so guiyou with guiyou is good, and given wood to work on it is twisted roots and knotted joints, the hard timber that proves a good tool. Borrowed as a compliment to two people born in 1993 it is charming. As a forecast it is nothing, and the same author writes in the same book that the sages spoke in figures not meant to be gripped too tightly. It sets the pair against its opposite, the years of gold leaf, and calls the difference hard against soft; if you want an image to keep, keep that one, and then let a birth chart tell you which of your eight characters is actually you.