Her life was never quite ‘normal,’ but it wasn’t ‘strange’ either—she couldn’t remember a time when her parents weren’t both there, but she still had trouble with her father. She always felt like there were more important things to worry about than her; she barely complained to Mother and Father at all. Aiding things, perhaps, was that her parents still murmured about war—about fighting—nine years after Queen Kuro’s first husband died. They could never know when Kuro would continue their fighting, if they continued at all; Utaka could be sent back out any day, and that expectation grew as time went on.

Despite being constantly surrounded by a lot of people, Kyoumi only considered one or two of them friends. Most of the Fujita children—Tezo, Emio, and Jun—were too loud and hyper for her, considering how quiet the palace was on any day they weren’t visiting; Sorai, the one closest to her age, was the only one that she could handle. Tezo liked to tease his little brother, but didn’t talk to Kyoumi directly; in addition to Kyoumi’s belief that the Fujita women were slightly insane, Jun was also very young, which made both her and Emio hard to speak with. Sorai, on the other hand, was like Kyoumi; relatively calm, not seeing much attention from his parents thanks to being at an age where he could take care of himself fairly well.

Kyoumi sat by the door to the palace, watching the sakura petals fall from the trees through the open door. Knowing that they would stop soon frustrated her, and she wasn’t even sure why. The sight of them gave her some dread—she was only now old enough to realize it. Father said she was mature for her age; she was mature compared to Emio, at least, although that wasn’t a very high standard to begin with.

She was alone for a while—Mother and Father had other things to do. Despite her apparent maturity, they didn’t let her help at all; when she was old enough to mostly handle herself, she wasn’t even allowed in the little office anymore. It was still early in the day, though, so it was possible Utaka wasn’t even awake yet.

Kyoumi was ready to go outside and wander, reaching for her shoes so she wasn’t running around barefoot. When she looked up, she noticed a familiar group—Fujita Takeo and his grandchildren. She smiled a bit, knowing that Mister Takeo would take some work away from her parents. She might be able to spend some time with Mother and Father.

Deciding that Sorai would probably want to visit the capital’s spring festival, she slipped on her shoes so she could meet with them. Mister Takeo nodded a greeting when she was close enough, but Jun ran up to her instead. Kyoumi couldn’t understand the two-year-old’s ramblings, and thus ignored her.

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“Did you travel well?” Kyoumi asked, giving a small bow to the family—Mister Takeo and Sorai, at least.

The other group all bowed to her, although Mister Takeo had to prompt Jun. When they all stood, Mister Takeo smiled. “We managed—nothing came up while we were traveling, at least. How are your parents?”

“They’re all right, as far as I know,” Kyoumi replied.

“Good.” Mister Takeo nodded again, then looked to all his grandchildren. “Go on, then—disperse. Someone keep an eye on Jun.”

Sorai quickly took a few more steps towards Kyoumi—his silent way of saying he had other things to do. Emio backed away about as quickly, leaving Tezo alone with the youngest. Neither of them looked particularly happy about the arrangement, but Mister Takeo was already going to greet Mother and Father, and Emio was running off to talk with some of the servant girls she was friends with.

Tezo sighed and led Jun back out to the courtyard, leaving Sorai to look at Kyoumi.

“Are you doing anything?” Sorai asked. “It looks like the festival is still open.”

Kyoumi nodded. “We should be able to go without any problems.” She made sure she had a little knife on her—she couldn’t use it well, but she preferred it over making guards watch her—and started to go.

Sorai hesitated before he followed her. “You’re not going to tell your parents first?”

“…They probably wouldn’t even notice,” she admitted quietly. There was a brief pause before she turned around and grabbed his hand, forcing him to follow her. “Come on!”

“We don’t need to hurry!” Sorai tried to protest. It was the only kind of resistance he ever gave her—he followed her mostly everywhere if she let him.

“I don’t want to get there and everything be sold,” Kyoumi said. She pulled him forward, causing him to let out a dull ow. “I’ll repay you when we get back—if I buy anything.”

Sorai sighed—a sign he was ready to give up protesting—and willingly began to follow her. Satisfied, she let go of his hand and led; when they got to the town right outside the palace, they walked side by side.

Kyoumi always felt more comfortable complaining to Sorai—talking about her parents or lamenting about things they didn’t have. Both of them wished they could trade places—Kyoumi would rather have siblings while Sorai much preferred the quietness of the palace—but there was nothing to be done about that. She had an easier time sharing her worries with the boy than she did with Mother and Father; although Sorai couldn’t help, she didn’t want to make her parents feel like they were doing a poor job at raising her by telling them directly.

With their peacetime lives already taken up with work, she feared what it would be like if war came back up again. War and fighting constantly scared her, both as a child and much later in life. Unfortunately, more often than not, those fears proved to be reasonable.