Seiko appreciated Asahi’s dedication, but telling him the truth didn’t give her any significant sense of satisfaction. He watched her with extra care as the voices faded in and out throughout the day, ready to help her however he could as soon as he needed to. It only made her wonder if he would be more at peace with a lie than the truth—or the partial truth, as it may be.

The migraines forced her to be distant, whether through pain or deadly murmurings; within a week they wouldn’t let her work and refused to let her think clearly when she visited the children. All four of them noticed—she hated that even Niru quickly learned to adapt to her mother’s pain and stayed silent when Seiko needed it.

She didn’t even want to entertain the thought of listening to the voices’ demands—but she didn’t want to leave them, either. Her and the voices were at a stalemate.

She went back to her room early, right after putting Niru to sleep for the night, and laid in bed while the voices surrounded her.

Pathetic. Hopeless. Naive. Selfish. Who’s to say Lady Aimiki didn’t choose you because you were the last, and not that you were the least flawed? Or maybe she sees herself in you, too attached to her children to end them for the greater good.

Seiko shook her head, pinching her arm even though it didn’t do anything.

“No. I’d rather die, myself. Alone.”

…As you wish.

They fell eerily silent as the door creaked open. Asahi slowly entered with a worried look.

“You still look terrible,” he noted.

She looked away and sighed. “I’ll be fine by the morning, they’re just…loud.”

“I’m not making much headway with any kind of investigation,” Asahi said, his voice low and regretful. She wished that she could do more to help, but she was as good as useless like this. “How much longer do you think you can hold up?”

“...I can’t say for sure. They’re worse than they ever were.”

Asahi carefully made his way over to the bed and brushed her shoulder. “Do you think you can try to hold on until Niru’s a little older?”

“I can’t make the promise,” Seiko admitted. She partially sat up and leaned over to give him a light kiss, then laid back down again. “But I’ll do what I can.”

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“That’s all I can ask.” After a second, he pulled away and attempted a little smile instead. “I’ll wrap up your work for tonight. Maybe everyone—the kids, Maenomi, Tekazu—can go out tomorrow, if you’re feeling any better?”

Seiko managed to return a little smile of her own. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s a plan, then,” Asahi decided as he stood up. “I’ll leave you to rest. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She watched him go until the door closed behind him, then she nestled into unsteady sleep.

…

From the very beginning…if you had not resisted, none of this pain would have been inflicted. This could have been over much, much sooner.

Remember that you were the selfish one who chose to make this path longer and more painful than it had to be.

Seiko gasped awake, struggling for air. She scrambled to sit up, waiting for Asahi to stir on his side of the bed, but he slept heavily. She tried to manage her breath as the voices whispered and murmured.

It’s your fault. Now get up, get dressed. You’re going on a walk.

They forced her to obey as they said it, controlled her actions the same way they did when they made her kill. Her heart beat faster just because of that single connection.

She slid out of bed, searched through the wardrobe, and changed quiet enough that Asahi never even moved. She wanted to say something, try to wake him up, but the voices wouldn’t let her move her lips. It terrified her.

After she was in normal clothes, the voices walked her around the room. Her eyes searched, but she didn’t know what for until they reached into a little box in the corner and pulled out a knife. The sight of it made them buzz even louder, excited.

She left the room, went down the halls, all the way into the back gardens. The darkness made it hard to see, but the voices had no trouble navigating; they wanted her to be in the sakura garden, even if the petals were almost all fallen.

The voices forced her to kneel by one of the benches and let the edge of the knife rest against her throat. She could breathe a little easier, although she didn’t have a reason to; they wouldn’t let her run.

You told us you would rather die than take the lives of others. Do you still mean that?

“I refuse to kill my own children,” Seiko murmured. “And if that’s what you’re asking me to do, then yes.”

The knife came close to cutting her flesh as a response, but she resisted it.

“Could I have tomorrow?” she silently requested. “I could leave them with a nice memory, the same my mother did for me.”

The voices scoffed. Monsters like us don’t get final wishes.

In the next second, they used her to slash her own throat. Seiko tried to let out some sort of cry, but it came out garbled as the wound bled and she choked. The voices left her alone for those last few moments, silent enough that she could hear the wind blow through the trees.

She prayed that Lady Aimiki would keep her children safe from the voices—that she would prove them wrong—and that they wouldn’t be the ones to find her. A soldier would be best, so Asahi didn’t either…

She closed her eyes. When she opened them, she stood among the unrealistic figures she dreamt of that matched the voices. Instead of Seiko in the center, however, the space was empty.

“Reserved for the one who will do your duty,” the voices explained. “And unlike you, he will not fail us. We’ll be sure of it.”