“Oru, Rijiro, come on! I want to try that game over there.”

“Can you act any less mature, Teiyori?”

“I’ll stop being excited when you actually start caring!”

Seiko smiled as the boys ran ahead, joking and teasing all the way. Niru tugged at her arm so she could join her brothers, but Seiko only walked a little quicker to compensate.

“Don’t go too far,” Asahi warned.

Teiyori turned so he briefly walked backwards, sporting a large smile and a gleam in his eyes.

“We won’t!” he promised, whipping around again. He patted his brother’s bags to encourage them to move a little quicker, guiding them over to one of the game stalls.

Seiko let Niru go when they were closer, but kept a slower pace with Asahi until they reached the children as well. Niru giggled and pointed at all the fish in the stall over, babbling on about the similarities between them and the ones they had at home.

The toddler let out an excited noise when she saw Seiko again; Asahi went to provide some money for the boys to try another game.

“Fish?” Niru asked, pointing at the stall.

“Do you want to play?”

Niru enthusiastically nodded. Seiko took out a few coins to give to the stall owner and accepted the scoop and bowl in return. Niru practically bounced, eyeing the fish and searching for the one with the prettiest scales.

Seiko bent down and smiled at her little daughter.

“Why don’t we try together?” Seiko suggested.

Niru clapped in support of the idea, wasting no time in climbing into Seiko’s lap and firmly grasping her wrist. Niru didn’t have enough coordination to do it on her own, but Seiko obeyed the girl’s movements as much as she could.

Niru giggled as she tried to catch a fish. The chosen one—speckled white and orange, not unlike the ones they had at home—swam away just as the scoop fell apart. Niru pouted, but didn’t cry as Seiko returned the bowl and what remained of the scoop.

Don’t you remember?

Seiko squeaked and tensed at the sudden voice. She hasn’t heard them in years—not so clearly, at least.

This was the last game your brother played before his death.

She flinched back at the laughter, all its anger and the volume. A throbbing pain overcame her as the voices got louder and louder.

Selfish… Why does she want us to suffer, while you get to live freely? You could have ended it, Seiko.

You have no one to blame but yourself for this.

She caught the attention of nearly everyone else nearby—the stall owners, the strangers, her family—but she couldn’t hear anything they said. She let herself collapse when Asahi came, closing her eyes shortly thereafter.

…

The voices still buzzed around the back of her mind when she woke up again. Seiko shuddered as they repeated that long-lost threat.

Kill them, Seiko. Fifteen years is still close enough for revenge… Not that excuses would matter, if you and your sister fell as well. The Gin line shouldn’t have made it this far. Do you really want to extend your children’s torment?

A hand gently brushed her cheek, and she leaned into it.

“Are you feeling any better?” Asahi asked gently.

“Not quite,” Seiko murmured. She slowly opened her eyes again; seeing Asahi’s worried look only made her feel worse. “Was I asleep for long..?”

“About two hours.”

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“Please tell me the children are in bed.”

“It would be a lie if I did. All four are outside the room.”

Seiko sighed and looked away. “…I wish they wouldn’t worry. I’ll be fine, I just…need a little bit of time.”

“It just means you’ve raised them well,” Asahi reasoned. He readjusted his position so he could lean against the back of the bed frame, keeping one hand near her head. “I sent out a letter to Maenomi and Tekazu so they knew. They’re due for a visit anyway.”

“I hate bothering her.”

“Trust me, Seiko, I think Maenomi would stay here to live with us if she didn’t still resemble the portrait we have in the entrance hall.”

He gave her a little smile and she did what she could to return it. Asahi looked down at her after a second.

“Still,” he said, “Is it alright if I call a doctor for you? If this is another migraine, I’d like to know why they seemed to vanish these past fifteen years.”

Seiko shook her head. “I think I know why—getting a doctor’s opinion would just waste time. Nothing works for these; Shiharu tried practically everything but the medicines that would just kill me quicker.”

“What is it, then?” Asahi asked, curious and concerned. “Is it related to your mother’s illness, or is it something else? Could I have someone take a look, just to be sure?”

She bit her lip and turned away. You have to lie, Seiko.

But did she, really?

Asahi stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed so he could still make eye contact with her. She didn’t refuse it this time.

“Please, Seiko,” he murmured. “I want to make sure you’re not dying—at least not soon.”

If you kill him, then the children and the guards, Maenomi would come none the wiser…you could end this before the sakura petals fade.

Seiko shuddered, the image appearing perfectly in her mind. She shuffled away from Asahi as the voices gave her the plan; there was a knife in the corner of the room, and they wanted her to stage a break-in.

She didn’t want this. She never did and she never will.

She looked up at Asahi, and she knew he could tell she was scared. Would it hurt to tell him?

He’ll hate you, the voices warned. He’ll call you a murderer, a liar, and take the children away.

Considering the alternative, wouldn’t that be better? Seiko didn’t have to think about the voices’ threats if her family was in the former Masaaki territory.

She made up her mind with another glance at Asahi, and steeled herself for the voices’ screams as she let out a small breath.

“You can’t tell the children,” Seiko said firmly. “They’ll just worry. Teiyori might need to hear it, but not right now.”

“It can stay between us for however long it needs to—I’d just like to know what suddenly caused you to fall like that.”

Seiko mustered some strength to sit up, leaning against the bed frame to combat the faint dizziness. The voices were more persistent in making her feel miserable, she could give them that much—she couldn’t remember the migraines being this strong before.

“...Would you believe me if I said that Lady Hyomoto’s accusations against me were true? That I hear voices?”

Asahi’s expression shifted to confusion, then he flinched. She continued while she still felt ready to.

“They’re not…imaginary, either. They’re all deceased and they can…control me, almost.”

She waited as Asahi turned away for a few seconds to process it. The longer it took, the more she worried. She didn’t want to be alone with them again.

Fortunately, when Asahi looked back at her again, his eyes showed only sympathy.

“During the war… You heard them? Tsunkei, Ozuru, Kyuru, all the rest?”

“Do you remember when the castle was attacked in the winter, when I ran off to ‘take care of something’ while you and Masaaki watched Kyuru and Chiki? I…heard Rinatsu’s voice just before then—Kyuru said he heard Tsunkei. That’s how I knew when someone died.”

“Seiko…”

Asahi hesitated for a moment, then came a little closer to hold her. Her breath caught—she didn’t expect it—but she leaned into him instead of pulling away.

“You should have told me sooner,” Asahi said softly, brushing some of her hair back. “I never would have held it against you.”

“I know,” Seiko murmured. “But I even let Mother believe they were just a childish phase. They were quiet until today.”

“You spoke with Lady Aimiki, didn’t you?” Seiko nodded, and Asahi continued while gently giving her space again. “Maybe something about her presence stopped them. Do you know of anything that makes the voices calmer?”

“Sometimes being near others,” Seiko said. She didn’t want to worry him by admitting that certain kinds of pain made them softer and that blood made them louder.

“Try that for now,” Asahi decided. “I’ll look into it whenever I have a spare moment—see if I can extend the silent moments for you somehow.”

Seiko smiled at his optimism, but couldn’t bring herself to match it. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and moved further to the edge of the bed.

“Can I let the children in now?”

“Mhm. The headache’s fading a little.”

He brushed her hand on the way up, sliding off the bed to go to the door.

She readjusted herself to sit up a little stranger, trying to appear healthier for her children’s sakes. She understood why Mikka did it so often.

She didn’t dare mention that what the voices wanted out of her was death.