Seiko learned a lot about her voices over the years. Although pain would stop them, it had to be inflicted as a wound of some kind—it was hard to find ways to keep them at bay when Asahi wasn’t close, especially finding places where her husband wouldn’t notice the cuts. At first, the voices demanded her own death—then came a child, and they wanted him to die as well.

There were records, hidden away in journals that were kept near the memorials for deceased royalty, that two other rulers shared her affliction; they heard voices, which were a mild inconvenience for the first and maddening for the second. Both of them died in battle, claiming that their voices begged them to fight before the pages became blank and their entries stopped, marking their deaths.

Thirteen years passed since she became queen; she had three sons and a little daughter, aged twelve, eleven, eight, and four. On most days, she was happily married to Kinjo Asahi—on other days, they argued about her apparent reliance on him. Seiko never told him—didn’t want to tell him—that he kept the voices silent, so he never understood why she needed him to be so close.

The voices…they grew stronger, somehow, and more convincing as time went on. They often told her they were tired of waiting—how her ‘job’ should have been done years ago, and how she was on the verge of failing.

You’ll only succeed if the royal family dies. Do you want others to carry on this? Do you want some other person to carry the burden of killing all? This is Ginshin’s punishment—death of his kin through his kin, until this nation and Kurokami’s nation falls. We will only grow in time.

After a decade, Asahi’s presence merely dulled them to a point of nigh-silence. The voices were quieted, but not completely inaudible, around her children—Seiko hated that she seemed distant as a result, afraid of the voices speaking too loudly and controlling her. As the voices grew louder around Asahi, she became frightened—she worried that she might hurt her family, so she slowly started to avoid them.

Seiko waited as long as she could before she did this; she made a plan, should the voices begin to overtake her, so her family wasn’t harmed. She was still afraid of death, to some extent, but she would accept it just so the voices didn’t control her. The paranoia of the voices possibly overtaking her was enough to drive her mad.

She had a feeling she couldn’t wait much longer; the voices wanted her to live so she could kill the royal family and ruin Gin as a kingdom, but she was determined to never listen to them—to never do exactly what they say.

It was spring, and even at night she could see the pale pink petals floating around in the wind; they resembled snowflakes at a glance, but the air was a bit too warm for them. Seiko quietly got out of bed, trying not to disturb Asahi, and picked up a small dagger hidden near the door that was meant for self-defense.

She glanced back at her husband for a moment, considering how this would effect him. He wasn’t a stranger to the daily work of a ruling figure, so he wouldn’t have any trouble taking over her position; their eldest son would likely take Asahi’s place as a helper. The littlest two might not remember this very well, but…perhaps that was for the best.

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Seiko left the room quietly and quickly, keeping the dagger hidden as she left the palace. Anyone who saw her didn’t seem to mind; she tried to make nighttime walks a common occurrence for that purpose. She had this all planned out by the minute.

She went outside, finding a specific place in the courtyard where her children were unlikely to play in—the first people to find her should be the guards, if not Asahi. Her voices were questioning her with every step, growing louder and more insistent; it did nothing to sway her.

What are you doing? This will mean that you fail—do you want to fail? You’re pushing this on to someone else; someone who, otherwise, wouldn’t need to take any lives, if they existed at all. Do you want that? Do you want some future child to be cursed?

She only answered them after she decided on a good place—an unkept corner on the opposite side of the courtyard from the palace—and knelt down among the bushes and thorns. “Even if this means I’ve failed,” she said quietly, taking out her dagger, “So many people died so this nation can continue on through my blood. Damned or not”—she lifted the dagger up to her neck, lightly pressing the blade against her skin as she mustered the courage to carry through—“I won’t let those sacrifices be in vain. I won’t listen to your cursed words anymore.”

Quickly, to give herself no time to question or regret it, she ran the dagger across her skin and slit her own throat. That pain was the last thing she felt as a physical being.

——

Asahi woke up early that morning, at first not realizing anything was wrong. It took a few moments for him to realize that Seiko wasn’t in bed; he knew that she took walks at night on occasion, but she was always back by morning. He never woke up alone anymore.

He got out of bed and got dressed, deciding that he had enough time to look for her before they ate breakfast. The servants greeted him with little smiles, and he asked after Seiko with a few of them; the ones that saw her knew that she left the palace, but couldn’t recall her ever coming back inside. He started a search of the courtyard—the guards at the entrance said that she didn’t leave, so Asahi tried to figure out where else she would be.

Asahi didn’t expect to find her dead, her body mostly obscured by bushes and covered in small sakura petals. Carefully, he sat her up, noticing that her silver hair was gone in favor of her natural brown; she was no longer queen, and as such she no longer needed the pseudo-crown. He tried to remove the blood from her neck, but it had dried and wouldn’t easily rub off. She must have been here for a few hours.

Slowly, he stood up and went to find someone to help bring her back without the children noticing. Fortunately there was a guard nearby, and another who went to contact the shrine to request a miko.

The whole thing was…a bit surprising. They couldn’t determine exactly what killed her—suicide seemed most likely, but why? Things were much better now than they had been in the past; that’s what Asahi always felt, at least. The royal family was able to continue on, and Kuro was too pleased with an overseas victory to bother fighting their closest neighbor. Did she think differently? Somehow, it was easier to handle the loss when he considered it to be murder instead; and, indeed, that’s what it was recorded as.

There were many things he never knew about Seiko—he knew she kept secrets from him. Those gaps in his own knowledge showed, as the one left to write history and encourage how it was told. In the end, Seiko went down in history as the first queen, a determined woman who fought for her own cause.

Asahi could never shake the feeling that he was doing her an injustice.