Tsujihara Seiko was…baffling, to say the least. Asahi couldn’t quite understand her. They met and spoke for a while, then after a few days told him and Masaaki that she “couldn’t think clearly” around them. After the first battle, she tried to avoid them but ultimately ended up staying closer, now reasoning that she “would rather be around others.”

In general, Tsujihara acted differently after the battle than she did before. She was a bit quieter, at first, and she stayed a lot closer. She didn’t even go to the training area without Asahi or Masaaki being there, much less actually fight. Asahi guessed it was because of the battle—the first time many of them had fought, all the more jarring because they were fighting people from Gin—but even if he tried to ask, she didn’t respond. Masaaki didn’t have much better luck.

Several months passed after that first battle—in the meantime, there had been a few more skirmishes, but nothing major. Asahi, Tsujihara, and Masaaki were all in the training area, entertaining some conversation. Tsujihara currently sparred with Masaaki, leaving Asahi to watch.

He always noticed things about her at the oddest times. There was something elegant in the way she fought—there was a certain charm in how she struggled to find words on occasion, claiming to be unused to ‘silence.’ She was actually one of the most beautiful people Asahi ever met; she had long, brown hair and the most dazzling eyes. If he had to guess, there wasn’t a drop of foreign blood in her.

“Tsujihara,” Asahi spoke up at some point among these thoughts. She paused and lowered her bokken, as did Masaaki. “How did your parents ever allow you to fight?”

It was a second before she responded. “It’s a matter of necessity, I suppose,” Tsujihara explained, moving her bokken from hand to hand. “Mikka would like me to stay here, and she doesn’t mind where I am as long as I’m satisfied.”

“You father’s got to have some say, right?” Masaaki asked, accepting the conversation.

“Ujuro mostly just agrees,” Tsujihara replied, frowning a little. “Essentially, all he can really do is smile, nod, and try not to let her worry. I’m sure he does care, of course, but it’s…complicated, I suppose…”

She trailed off, shaking her head. Asahi decided not to pressure her into saying anything more. “Regardless,” Asahi said, giving her a smile, “I’ve just always wondered that. Even if you were an assistant at first, I’m surprised Lord Ozuru made you a soldier as well; you’re more polite and beautiful than most nobles, Tsujihara.”

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Tsujihara tensed, shying away for a moment. “I don’t think I’m worth all that praise,” she murmured.

Asahi started to protest before someone else entered the training area. All three of them stood a bit straighter when they realized that it was Lord Ozuru.

“Tsujihara,” he said firmly.

“Yes, sir?” She asked.

“Maenomi wants to speak with you,” Lord Ozuru replied. “Some request to take her somewhere, I suppose. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Tsujihara left and put away her bokken almost immediately. Lord Ozuru briefly looked at the other two as she left. “Get to wherever you need to go,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” both of the men said.

Lord Ozuru turned around and left. Masaaki slowly put his bokken away, speaking up after Lord Ozuru was out of earshot.

“Ever notice how Tsujihara’s the only soldier he knows the name of?” Masaaki asked.

Asahi gave him a wry look. “Ever notice how easy it is to report casual, treasonous gossip?”

“I don’t see why the servant girls can and soldiers can’t,” Masaaki protested. After a short pause, he said, “But be honest with me. Isn’t it a bit weird? He can’t even get the Hiroki children right—heck, he can barely keep his nephews and nieces straight—so it strikes me as odd that he’d commit a commoner’s face and name to memory.”

“There’s no way I can stop you from speculating, can I?” Asahi asked dryly. In the brief time they’ve known each other, Asahi was sure of absolutely one thing about Masaaki: he had a deadly lack of common sense, even though he claimed to have more than his family. It was likely the only reason the two weren’t any friendlier—he made casual remarks that would lead anyone else to be dismissed from the army, if not killed. It was a bit aggravating, to say the least.

“Nope,” Masaaki replied, once again confirming Asahi’s beliefs. He put his bokken away and continued. “He calls Mrs. Tsujihara by her name, too.”

“Care to share why any of this seems to be important?” Asahi said.

“I’m just saying,” Masaaki said defensively. “You hear a lot about Lord Ozuru when you’re around his son, even if he’s the youngest of the two.”

“Prince Kyuru is still a child,” Asahi pointed out.

“Yeah, and he’s a screwed up one,” Masaaki replied simply. “All of them are. They say the king was friendly with Kuro, Jukazu wants to wipe Kuro out entirely, Teiki lacks ambitions, and gods only knows about the younger five; Ozuru slept with someone and didn’t marry her, Maenomi would be content to never do anything herself again, Kyuru’s desperate for anything other than a few words from the others.”

Asahi frowned. “You’re lucky I don’t particularly care about getting you in trouble,” he noted. “That’s about five reasons to send you out of Gin entirely.”

“So be it,” Masaaki said firmly. “But this whole mess just reminds me of legends and stories—Rintoshita Ginshin was never promised his kingdom would last forever. It was the opposite, really; who’s to say that we aren’t witnessing that fall now?”

He sighed and left after that, and Asahi watched him go for a second before leaving as well to go to his own post.

Asahi decided to cope with the idea by ignoring it entirely.