A lot of people found the actual death of the royal family shocking—enough so that they lost about two hundred men through desertion by the end of the week. It was a combination of hopelessness and how little recognition the lost soldiers received when compared to the royalty that were killed on the same night.
As far as she understood it, Lord Ozuru decided to give three days for the entire army at the palace to ‘recover’ from that night, when the amount of deserted soldiers started to outweigh the amount of people who were willing to search for them. Each day would be given to a third of the remaining army for them to do whatever they pleased.
It was announced two weeks after the most recent battle while most of the soldiers and guards were eating breakfast, so naturally the rest of the conversation became about that particular topic.
“It’s a bit annoying that a day off is the most we get,” Masaaki mused. “I think I would’ve preferred something more along the lines of putting up memorials for the dead soldiers or something longer so we could actually leave.”
“I’m willing to take what we can get,” Kinjo replied.
Seiko didn’t add her own piece, if only because she didn’t quite mind either way. She would have preferred a few days instead of a few hours, but she wouldn’t complain about free time.
Even if she was completely lost on how she would spend it.
Masaaki and Kinjo talked for a while about it, which eventually fell into a debate on whether or not their respective families would be pleased to see them if they could return home. Masaaki eventually came to the conclusion he would be sent back again, whereas Kinjo would be hounded on why he left the palace—even with permission. Seiko much preferred hearing them over her voices, so she let them ramble on despite not speaking much herself.
When they were mostly done eating, Kinjo looked at Seiko and smiled. “Tsujihara, I was wondering if you would like to head out to town with me for a little while? It’s the perfect time in between seasons to get a good look around the capital.”
Seiko returned the smile faintly. “All right,” she said.
From her other side, Masaaki chuckled but didn’t say anything else. Kinjo did give him a quick frown before looking at Seiko again. “I’ll see you outside the palace in a few minutes,” Kinjo decided.
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Seiko nodded her agreement, and they finished up eating. She went back to her shared room to remove some of her armor—she still remained with the assistants despite becoming a soldier—and the girls teased her slightly.
…
Kinjo was waiting outside the palace as he said, so she went to join him. It was aimless chatting and wandering at first, although Seiko enjoyed the distraction. For at least two hours, they walked around the capital—and for at least two hours, she forgot about everything else.
He led her to a quiet place—a small garden, hailed as the place where Ginshin married his first wive—and struck up another conversation.
“You said once before that your mother was a miko in Gin no Shuto?” Kinjo asked.
“Yes,” Seiko replied. “She worked at the grand shrine until her resignation when she was eighteen.”
They wandered through the little garden a bit more, sitting down on a bench under one of the trees. It must look beautiful when the sakura petals fell in spring—but for now, she had to make due with the falling leaves of early autumn. “What led to her resigning?” Kinjo said curiously.
“Quite a lot,” Seiko said. She looked around at the scenery while she spoke. “She told me she wasn’t particularly fond of some of the other girls—then came my father. Mikka fell in love when she shouldn’t have, and during the whole relationship she considered leaving the shrine. She said that my father had been away for some time, mourning the death of his father, when she learned she was pregnant.” She spoke a bit quieter and a bit colder as she added, “He left her when he heard, too much of a coward to even discuss the possibility of staying. Mikka left the grand shrine, went to live in a village where her grandparents were. That’s where I was raised, with Kyou Ujuro as a kind of paternal substitute.”
Kinjo stayed silent for a moment, but Seiko looked at him when he finally did speak. “I wonder, if that man ever meets you, if he would have regrets,” he said. He smiled at her. “He lost the chance to act as a father for the most beautiful woman I’ve met.”
The comment caught her off guard, and for a moment all she could do was stare at him as her cheeks grew warm. The silence was both wonderful and terrifying.
“Hearing about your father, I don’t want to just…push this on you,” Kinjo said. He gained a sheepish expression as well. “But…would you let me say my piece?”
Seiko nodded without a word, and Kinjo bravely carried on. “There’s something…fascinating about you—you’re beautiful and strong, with a kind personality as well. I love you, Seiko. It might take some time to convince my family about a bastard commoner girl, but—”
He stopped when she leaned into him, smiling. She was selfish enough in the moment that she didn’t even think to protest to his confession—selfish enough that she didn’t care about status. “It’s so…quiet around you, Asahi. I can hear myself think—my own voice in my own thoughts, guiding my own actions—and its wonderful.”
“So you don’t mind?” He asked quietly.
“Not at all,” Seiko replied. She raised her head so she could look up at him. “Just…try not to leave? Stay with me, or at least give me warning before you go?”
Asahi smiled at her. “Any man would be a fool to leave you. I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
“…Thank you.”