The news came suddenly and hit hard: Lord Ozuru was dead. They all expected it, but it was different to hear it. Of course, from that point on, the royal family was busy—or the royal trio, now. Asahi couldn’t check up on Seiko even if he wanted to; he planned to ask her during breakfast, but she never came, and by the time he found her old room and the other servant girls gave suggestions on where to find her, Lord Ozuru had passed away and she was handling the aftermath.

Asahi carried through the day, hoping to at least see Seiko. He didn’t even get that lucky. Kyou Ujuro couldn’t see her, either—which meant that the two people who were supposed to watch her couldn’t even talk to her. Masaaki, newly demoted to a regular soldier until further notice, didn’t have any chances either.

He was more worried about how she was doing after the battle rather than Lord Ozuru specifically dying; she didn’t look well when he found her the day before. It was strange to see her quiet—her wounds weren’t horrible, but she looked like she had been in pain. She didn’t seem to notice him at all.

The whole day passed, and Asahi decided to try to speak with her after the soldier’s dinner. If she had any logic, she would be asleep—yet an apparent conversation when he got close to the door made it clear she wasn’t.

Cautiously, he knocked on the door. “Seiko? I just wanted to check on you.”

The conversation stopped, almost mid-sentence, and Seiko opened the door after a minute. Only remnants of whatever they made her wear for the funeral remained; a small hairpiece dangling from one side, and the dress worn under a kimono to keep it clean. She seemed relieved when she saw him.

“This is going to sound like a pointless question,” Asahi said, “But are you all right?”

“…A bit shaken, I suppose,” Seiko replied quietly. “I’ve had a migraine all day and barely a second to myself.” She paused for a moment. “…Would you like to come in?”

“For propriety’s sake—” Asahi began.

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“Damn propriety for a few minutes. I just want to talk with you—I need your silence.”

“You want silence, yet you want to hold a conversation?”

“Silence of mind, Asahi. May I take that as a ‘yes?’”

Asahi nodded hesitantly, and Seiko smiled as a way of thanks. She opened the door completely, revealing her new room—large and empty, devoid of any emotion. Any remnants of its previous inhabitants—the youngest daughter of King Tsunkei—were either hidden or put in some other place.

He only took a few steps in, still not quite willing to be there but not wanting to see Seiko disappointed, while Seiko herself sat on the bed.

“…Is there a fear of large spaces?” Seiko mused to make conversation. “Being here terrifies me. Everything is so much louder when there’s no one around.”

“I’m sure such a fear exists,” Asahi replied, “Although I couldn’t give it a name.” He paused for a moment, noticing that her eyes were still a bit dull and her gaze was distant. “Are you feeling well? You still look a little pale.”

“Do I?” Seiko asked, glancing at him. She looked away again for a moment. “…I feel like I typically do, I suppose. My wounds are fine… There’s just a bit more noise than usual.”

“Do you notice smaller noises when there are less loud ones?” He said. “Personally, all I notice is how quiet it seems now. It feels like no one dares to even breathe.”

Seiko didn’t respond, falling silent for a moment. “…Can you sit next to me?” She asked quietly.

Asahi nodded without a word, albeit hesitated when he got close. She chuckled a bit and pulled him down, then leaned into him once he was sitting.

“I want you to make another promise for me,” Seiko said softly.

He gave her a little, joking smile. “What do you want now?”

“If we live through this,” Seiko began slowly, “If we…actually survive… Will you stay by my side?”

“Is that different from telling you if I leave?”

“Yes, because I need you to keep me safe. Keep me sane.”

“Seiko…”

She gave him a little kiss and kind eyes. “It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, Asahi.” Her expression faltered, for a moment, growing darker. “I had a dream last night…or perhaps its better to say that it was a nightmare. It’s a vision of what would happen if I fail, but what I’ll be failing at…it’s terrifying. I don’t want to succeed, but if I’m left on my own…there’s a good chance I will succeed. You’re the only one that can stop me.”

“What would you be ‘failing’ at?” Asahi asked curiously.

“It’s…hard to explain.”

“I won’t force you to explain it, then—and I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you, my love.”

They fell into silence, going on to carry a much more carefree conversation. Asahi stayed there for a little while, then opted to leave again with the promise in mind. He didn’t know what he needed to do in order to help, but he trusted her judgement.