Mikka stayed for about a week before heading back; although Ujuro apparently planned to stay, Seiko urged him to return as well so her mother wouldn’t be making the trip alone. During Mikka’s stay—much of which was spent near Seiko inside or around the palace, since she wasn’t given much free time—there were a few times when Lord Ozuru came to give orders, noticed Seiko or Mikka, then left without a word.
Considering that he continued to avoid her even after Mikka left, it was surprising to see him walk into the training area and pick up a weapon. Kinjo and Masaaki were with her, as they had been for the past few months after Seiko realized she could fight without the voices controlling her when they were close, but neither made a comment aside from the collective bow.
“Tsujihara,” Lord Ozuru said, picking up two swords from the pile.
She could guess easily enough where this was heading—still, though, she nodded obediently. “Yes, sir?”
Lord Ozuru gave her one of the swords. “Show me if you’ve improved at all.”
Seiko nodded again, and Kinjo and Masaaki moved closer to the trees to give them space. Lord Ozuru moved first with a certain kind of frustration—she moved away before the blade hit her, albeit barely. She tried to retaliate, but was slow enough that his katana drew blood first, catching her arm. She winced, but tried to avoid looking at the blood—even when the voices were gone, that was the one thing that could bring them back.
Lord Ozuru entertained some semblance of a duel for a few minutes, then stopped. “What happened to the way you fought before?” He asked coldly.
She couldn’t immediately think of a good excuse—in truth, she purposely sought ways to avoid it, but she knew that answer wouldn’t please the regent—so she opted to stay silent. Lord Ozuru frowned, taking the sword she was using away from her.
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“We can’t afford to keep soldiers here that won’t fight,” Lord Ozuru said firmly. “There will be another battle, and if you’re not strong enough you will die. I’ve seen you here every day for the past year; whatever changed, get rid of it. You’re the best monster we have.”
Seiko winced, not quite brave or foolish enough to speak out in her own defense. She didn’t expect Kinjo or Masaaki to say anything, either—except Masaaki did.
“With all due respect, sir,” Masaaki began, gaining a worried look from Seiko that he brushed off with a smile, albeit hesitantly, “I’ve seen Tsujihara fight in battle—she’s more tame than half of the men, even if she’s downed more opponents. She lacks the basic skill and strength to be called a ‘monster.’ I think you’re overestimating her abilities a bit.”
She was more relieved that she received some words of encouragement that she didn’t necessarily care to realize that they weren’t exactly compliments in this line of work. She knew she must not seem like an excellent fighter when her voices were gone—she wasn’t much of anything when her voices were gone. When she dared to look, Lord Ozuru’s expression had only hardened, his frown deeper.
Lord Ozuru spoke simply to her. “You are our final card,” he said. “When all else fails, you will remain standing. What do you think is necessary for that to be achieved?”
“…I have an option?” Seiko asked after a moment.
“I’m not going to take the blame if you die in battle,” Lord Ozuru replied coldly. “Now make a decision, Tsujihara—but you have to stay on the battlefield, at least for now. If that bloodlust of yours returns, I want to see it in all its glory.”
Seiko frowned, perfectly aware that her only use at the moment was to kill as many enemies as possible—more so than the other soldiers, because if the voices took over they were killed gruesomely. Her voices—and, by extension, her actions while they controlled her—seemed more important than her own self in many cases.
Still, she was able to give her request clearly. “I fight well alongside Kinjo and Masaaki. If I could stay near them during battles, I can make it through the battle without growing confused.”
Lord Ozuru nodded, and looked behind her towards the two men. “Do you have any protests?”
“No, sir,” both replied.
The regent put the swords away and left the training area. There wasn’t much time left in the morning before they all had to do their separate work, so Seiko and Kinjo went on to figure out where they were needed. She was grateful that she wasn’t questioned about why she chose those two in particular—at least not immediately.