Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

The man who took her—he never shared his name, but considering his attitude towards her, Seiko assumed that he already knew about her reputation—only gave a terse “We’re here” before glaring at her to retrieve her bag and leave. Seiko didn’t overstay her welcome.

Her voices kept her company, only adding to the noise that the chatting passerby made. They seemed to recognize the city more than she did—they loathed it or loved it, varying from voice to voice. She could barely take note of her surroundings—acknowledge the sakura-flecked stone paths—solely from their activity. Seiko prayed she looked presentable enough to be considered sane here, although none of the passerby seemed to care if she was.

Seiko followed the voices’ direction towards the shrine. She wouldn’t know where to go otherwise; anyone visiting was expected to be a local, or otherwise had experience in large cities. While she appreciated the sense of anonymity, the paths twisted enough that she would be lost without the voices’ previous experience.

When she finally arrived, three girls sat by the entrance and ate. shrine maidens, one voice murmured. A few others gave some kind of agreement. Learned ones, at that, since they changed out of their uniforms.

Seiko carefully made her way towards them. With any luck, they wouldn’t notice that she heard people who weren’t there.

One of them—the youngest, it looked like, although she must be fifteen or sixteen—perked up, putting down the crackers she was nibbling on. Her bored look shifted into something like interest.

“Hello, stranger,” she said. One girl looked up at Seiko and continued eating, while the third stopped but didn’t acknowledge her. “It’s an odd time for visitors. Do you need the head priestess?”

“I’m…not sure,” Seiko admitted. The voices mocked her hesitance. “My mother was a previous shrine maiden—she told me to check here to drop off my bag before I went to the palace.”

“Are you applying for the governess position?” the youngest shrine maiden asked.

“Yes. Should I be somewhere else?”

“No; if anything, Lady Aimiki guided you to the right place.” She gave her remaining crackers to the shrine maiden next to her, then stood up and brushed off any crumbs. Once she finished, she straightened herself up and held her head high. “You are in the presence of Gin-Hyomoto Maenomi, daughter of Gin-Betomo Ozuru and Hyomoto Yukira.”

She’s disappointed you didn’t recognize her, one of the voices murmured with a tsk. What a poor little princess. That’s why she isn’t worthy.

Seiko tried to ignore them to give a bow as customary. A vague memory of playing with a baby with the same name crept into the back of her mind, but she set it aside for now. The princess would have no memory of her.

“My apologies for not noticing,” Seiko replied.

“It’s all right.” Something in the princess’s expression implied it wasn’t, although she hid it well enough that Seiko only saw it because the voices pointed it out. “One wouldn’t expect a princess alone with shrine maidens.”

She fell silent for a second, then gestured for Seiko to follow her.

“I’ll show you to the palace—you can keep your things. It won’t take long.”

Seiko murmured some agreement and followed after the princess without another word. Oddly enough, some of the voices quieted—others grew louder, repeating “poor princess” like a new mantra.

The princess didn’t say anything and Seiko, in turn, remained silent. It let her actually acknowledge what was around her—how the people held themselves with more dignity than at home, some looks of disdain towards others, and murmured conversations. The adults seemed prone to scowling while the children, weaving among the crowds, laughed and played.

No one stood aside for the princess; her demeanor slowly softened until they made it to the palace gates. The single guard standing by bowed as a greeting.

“Get my father,” the princess said firmly. “This young woman is here to apply for the new position.”

The guard nodded, and wordlessly slipped into the front gate. Maenomi didn’t move—she didn’t even face Seiko—and simply observed the small flower bushes nearby.

Naive girl, several voices said. There are no witnesses. You could easily kill her now—take a little knife and stab her, or strangle her where she stands.

Seiko tensed. Such violent pleas were…new, to say the least. It sent a shiver down her spine, not least because she subconsciously looked around just to verify their claims.

Fortunately, it only took a few minutes before the guard returned. Following behind him was a weary man and elegant woman, contrasting merely by standing next to each other—although their physical features were both typical of Gin’s people, the man had on little adornments while the woman had a necklace and gold hairpiece.

Seiko bowed when the princess did, recognizing them as Lord Gin-Betomo and Lady Hyomoto. Her father and stepmother, in other words.

Lord Gin noticed Seiko first, taken aback for a second before nodding.

“What’s your name?”

She knew he already understood, but she played along anyway.

“Tsujihara Seiko, sir.”

“Your parents?” Lady Hyomoto asked.

“Tsujihara Mikka is my mother.” She paused for a second, glancing at Lord Gin before looking away again. “I never knew my father.”

He didn’t seem offended by the lie, but Lady Hyomoto gave him a curious look. Princess Maenomi, ignorant, let out a surprised ‘oh.’

“You’re very pretty for a bastard, Miss Tsujihara,” she noted innocently.

The comment brought Lord Gin out of his indifference, his scowl turning towards his daughter.

“Maenomi. Don’t insult strangers.”

“I’m complimenting her!” the princess protested with a small whine.

Rather indelicate for a princess, the voices hummed. Did she learn anything, we wonder?

“I don’t mind,” Seiko admitted.

“Did your mother marry, then?”

“No. But her reputation is good enough in my hometown that it didn’t affect me.”

She couldn’t tell if he looked relieved or annoyed. Regardless, he carried on with the true conversation.

“Miss Tsujihara, what qualifications do you have for this job? You would be in charge of helping the elder children with their studies or keeping the younger ones entertained, depending on who you’re assigned to. How will you do that?”

“I have experience taking care of others,” Seiko said, standing up a little straighter. “I’m good with children, I’m neat and punctual, and I know when it’s best to stay silent.”

“Oh, that’s already an improvement,” Lady Hyomoto replied. Her eyes implied teasing, but it seemed cruel. “Miss Tsujihara, what if I hired you to be my new daughter? Maenomi would do well to learn from you.”

The comment was met with a “Mother!” from the princess, a glare from Lord Gin, and a suppressed wince from Seiko.

“Yukira, that’s as impossible as it is inappropriate,” he hissed. “You could stand to hold your disdain until we’re alone, at least.”

“I’m only joking,” Lady Hyomoto defended, albeit it held no real strength. “What’s a little harm in it?”

She maintained her smile; Maenomi crossed her arms and looked away while Lord Gin sighed and glanced at Seiko.

“If you could stand through that unfazed,” he said carefully, “You may just be what we need. Visit tomorrow morning—I’ll have you introduced to my son and, should that go well, the rest of the family. You’ll need the approval of the king and queen consort to receive an official position.”

Seiko bowed. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You as well, Miss Tsujihara,” Lord Gin replied evenly.

He turned around to leave without another word, his wife and daughter trailing after him silently. She chose to distance herself from them for now.