There were two parts to the spring festival: one celebrating life, and the other celebrating death. Queen Tsujihara Seiko’s life and death, to be specific, but Rei only knew a handful of people that didn’t generalize it to everyone.
The weather never agreed with Taiyo while the sakura were out—either that, or he didn’t want to attend the ceremony, which Rei couldn’t blame him for—so it didn’t surprise him that Taiyo stayed in his room with a migraine. Kyoumi and Sorai were a bit disappointed, but understanding.
Rei got to the first queen’s shrine before his parents and tidied it up. The table had three tiers; the highest had a portrait of the first queen next to her multi-colored komainu figurine, the middle had all her favorite flowers in all her favorite colors, while lowest the held a mismatch of komainu, crane, rabbit, and owl figurines. At least one foot around the table were scattered flowers, unlit candles, and jewelry that the townspeople saw fit to offer Queen Tsujihara Seiko.
He brushed off a few sakura petals and nodded to the first few arrivals. It proceeded a bit like a funeral, but oddly enough it never bothered him. It was just…something he had to stand through every year. It didn’t make the first queen seem any closer or any farther away.
A small crowd gathered by the time Kyoumi and Sorai came; the latter made rounds checking in on the people, asking about their day or if they contributed anything, while Kyoumi did a final check of the shrine. Taiyo silently came out a few minutes later, visibly unwell but more-or-less required to come. Rei went to his side as Kyoumi began her speech.
“Three hundred and twelve years ago, Queen Tsujihara Seiko died in the gardens behind the palace.” She took a little breath to steady herself before continuing, trying—and mostly succeeding, in Rei’s opinion—to have her voice carry through the crowd. “She was a woman of many achievements; the only bastard of the royal family to gain the throne, the only ruler that never held a war with Kuro, and—of course—the first queen of Gin. She could have done so much more if she lived for just a little bit longer.”
She gestured towards one of the guards, who disappeared back into the palace grounds, before returning her attention to the crowd.
“Every year since her death, the people of Gin’s capital have remembered her and asked her for protection. I am ashamed to say that I am not the first to hope for peace, even when war seems most likely—but in her place, surrounded by her siblings and children and Lady Aimiki herself, may she hear us.”
Silence fell for a few minutes, all eyes fixed on the shrine. Taiyo bit his lip in the corner of Rei’s vision, but he tried not to look over to ask why by instinct. He could prioritize it after the ceremony—for now, they were in the company of a hundred or more strangers and he really didn’t want to be remembered for the next year as the teen that disgraced Queen Tsujihara Seiko. Even if something told him she wouldn’t mind.
The guard came back with a lit candle and passed it to Kyoumi. She murmured some thanks, then bent down to light each candle with the flame.
“With these lights, let Lady Aimiki see fit to allow Queen Tsujihara Seiko and her kin to rest in peace.”
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She lit the candles by going around the back of the table, placing the original candle on the highest tier alongside Queen Tsujihara Seiko’s portrait at the end. When Kyoumi bowed, the rest of the crowd followed suit.
Every year, without fail, it seemed like the wind completely stopped. The candles’ flames never spread onto the flowers, sakura petals never fell on them and alighted. It fascinated him even on his worst of days—how he could almost hear and feel something like Queen Tsujihara giving thanks. Kyoumi shivered for a similar reason, he guessed.
Then the odd sensation faded and Kyoumi spoke up again.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said, her voice still soft from the moment of silence. “I know things haven’t been the best recently—ever since the northern nation broke away from Kuro, they’ve been threatening our people—but I plan on having an official stance decided by the end of next week. Please, in the meantime, spend time with your families.”
Kyoumi retreated back into the palace gates, followed by her family. Rei kept a cautious eye on Taiyo as they went back inside.
…
While he didn’t mind the ceremony itself, the atmosphere after was always grim—even more so this year, due to the situation with Kuro. Rei briefly paid respects to Grandfather Masaru and Kyoumi’s parents before heading back out. Taiyo returned to his room, so Rei made the trip over to Maeko’s house alone.
He sprawled on the floor, Snowbell determinedly shoving her face into his hands.
“Sometimes I swear you’re a dog and not a cat,” Rei murmured.
Snowbell mewed in response, while Maeko—working on an embroidery project at a table near the edge of the room—laughed.
“I made sure she was extra cuddly just for you,” Maeko teased. “Mother also spoils her, so she knows that if she’s sweet she’ll get more snacks.”
Rei brushed his hand across Snowbell’s patchy fur, earning a purr from the kitty. She plopped down on his right arm.
“You know I have to get up soon for lunch, right?” Rei asked.
The cat meowed and closed her eyes. Only a few seconds later she twitched while dreaming.
Rei smiled and carefully readjusted himself on his back. “Well, I’m trapped. I am one with the floor now.”
“I have said close to those same words every morning since we found her,” Maeko admitted, glancing back at him for a second. “Unfortunately, no one thinks ‘my cat was on top of me and she would hate me if I moved’ is a valid reason to be late.”
Rei chuckled. “Shame. I don’t think Taiyo’s going to be at dinner and without him we’ll be eating in complete silence—an excuse to avoid that would be nice.”
Maeko put down her project and completely turned around to give him a curious look.
“Is he all right, by the way? He looked terrible during the ceremony.”
“He’s had a migraine since last night,” Rei replied, shaking his head a little. “I think it’s bothering him more than usual; as per family tradition, he probably won’t complain about it for another day or two.”
Maeko sighed. “You guys really need to work on that. It’s not ‘complaining,’ it’s ‘properly expressing how you feel so you can get help.’”
“I know. But that requires change, and it’s easier to keep at least one aspect of our lives consistent than to alter everything at once, even if it’s for the best.”
She didn’t respond, merely frowning and returning to her project. Snowbell got up just to come closer and stuffed her face into Rei’s armpit. He closed his eyes and accepted it—if his fate was to be a warm thing for Snowbell to hide under, so be it.
He drifted off to sleep, briefly dreaming of seeing Taiyo with a woman implied to be the first queen before Miss Nesshin woke him up for lunch.