Seiko wasn’t…quite aware of anything until that next morning. The voices had talked with her all night in her dreams—they hounded her as soon as she woke up. She could barely focus on anything else, despite the other servant girls’ best attempts to make sure she hadn’t fallen ill.
“Tsujihaaaaraaaa,” one of the servant girls said. “Are you awake yet? You’re a bit late, you know.”
“Stop giving her a hard time!” Another girl said. “Yesterday…wasn’t okay. There’s only three left… The princess said to let her rest.”
Seiko opened her eyes and sat up, vaguely aware of some of her wounds—nothing that would hinder her, unlike some of the other soldiers. Seiko could faintly recall trying to assess the losses of the previous day; it took all afternoon to bury all of the bodies, with most of the royal family included. The rebels brought news that Prince Teiki and his third of the army had been killed or fled for their lives—no one expected them to return. She couldn’t entirely blame anyone who deserted at this point; the prospects looked grim.
Seiko tried to gather her thoughts, but acted through the whims of her voices. They alternated between commands and a certain phrase: You’ll be the only one left, little Seiko. You should be the last one. You fail if there’s more after you.
Once she was dressed and somewhat convinced that she looked respectable, she glanced at the other girls—servants who weren’t needed for the moment, and would be nothing more than fodder if they were put on the battlefield. “Does anyone know if they’re letting anyone see Lord Ozuru?”
“I know the princess is there,” one mused. “I’m not sure if they’re letting anyone else in, though.”
“Eh, they might let Tsujihara in,” another said. “He made her Princess Maenomi’s guard—twice. He must trust her.”
“I’ll go see,” Seiko decided quietly.
None of the girls protested, so she left to see how the regent fared. Everyone came away with injuries—Lord Ozuru’s could be fatal if they weren’t treated well as they healed. Seiko wasn’t necessarily sure if she was concerned as his daughter, or because Prince Jukazu would replace the regent should he die—which she knew would lead to even more desertion, considering the eldest prince’s bad reputation.
Carefully, Seiko made her way to Lord Ozuru’s room. The door was open, and Princess Maenomi was already there, as well as the miko and doctor tending to Lord Ozuru. The princess’s guards had been killed, and haven’t been replaced yet.
Maenomi looked at Seiko when she entered. “G-good morning, Miss Seiko,” the princess said quietly. “You’re…doing well, I hope?”
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“I can guess that you aren’t,” Seiko noted. She looked at the people tending to the regent. “Is he doing better, at least?”
“Let’s say that it’s still up for debate,” the doctor decided after a moment. She looked at Seiko curiously. “Are you all right, Miss? You look pale.”
Isn’t it funny how everyone cares? You’re fine. You’re always fine. “Yesterday was just a hard battle, is all,” Seiko replied. “…I’m fine.”
Before anyone could press for more details, the miko spoke up. “Miss Miyata, he’s moving again.”
The doctor moved immediately, almost shoving the miko aside before muttering a small apology. Princess Maenomi seemed conflicted as to whether to move closer to farther away; Seiko watched from her spot near the door. She winced when there was another voice added to the already-overwhelming chorus.
Pathetic…just like her, I imagine…
She knew what it meant, but stayed silent. Maenomi let out a little cry. “He’s not breathing anymore…” the princess said quietly. She knelt down next to the bed and tried to reach out, but the miko stopped her. “Father! I-I don’t want this… I don’t want to be the last one, I—please! Don’t leave me here!”
The pleading was in vain, of course, as the doctor’s grim expression confirmed. Maenomi shrugged away the miko, but ran to Seiko instead—much to the latter’s surprise. She could only stand there, knowing no words of comfort to offer the princess. Seiko felt more dread than grief, her half-sister holding on to her tightly.
The miko left while the doctor made an extra check to make sure they were correct. Maenomi’s tears continued, even after Prince Jukazu joined them.
“Oh, good,” the prince said dully. He glanced at Seiko and Maenomi. “Is the man finally dead?”
“He deserves more respect,” Maenomi replied, sadness fading into anger as she pulled away from Seiko.
“All Ozuru ever did for me was hound me on my choices,” Jukazu said coldly. He turned toward the doctor. “Miss Miyata, is it? Can you get the funeral ready?”
“Yes, milord,” the doctor said after a bow.
When she left, Prince Jukazu laughed. “Finally.”
“Could you manage some remorse?” Seiko asked quietly, frowning at him.
“Can’t find a reason,” Jukazu replied. He looked back at her with nothing but nonchalance. “We all die eventually—we only live to kill, really. There’s something…wonderfully cursed about this family. Ozuru once said that you were manic when you fought; that’s happened before in this family. Maenomi said you have migraines; that’s happened before in this family. The gods want us to die—they always have. My goal was to at least take Kuro down with us.”
“You’re the maniac,” Maenomi said quietly. “You can’t even pretend to give a kind word towards your uncle.”
“Yes, well…” He turned to leave, offering some half-wave. “There’s no reason to hide Tsujihara Seiko now—the man she would dishonor is dead. Congratulations, Seiko; you are officially released from the army. I’ll give you a room of your own.”
As Jukazu left, Maenomi went to follow him. “Wait! Jukazu, you damn drunkard—!”
Seiko couldn’t react quick enough to ask her to stay, and for a moment the voices overwhelmed her. They repeated the same things, over and over and over, only quieting down slightly when Masaaki came.
“So he is dead,” he mused. He looked at Seiko. “Prince Jukazu’s pretty determined to dress you up for the burial. There are some people waiting near one of the littler princess’s old rooms.”
“A-all right…”
There was no protesting this.