Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

The autumn festival wasn’t too long after Tsujihara’s birthday; Asahi actually helped her set some things up after they spent an hour in the little forest area. All the children opted to join in once they were free from schooling, making them wander around as a unit of one dozen including guards. Tsujihara seemed to enjoy it, though.

The air gained a considerable chill by the end of the month, but Tsujihara wanted to sit in the garden. She invited Asahi—she mentioned wanting company—and maintained mostly-aimless conversation accordingly. Asahi just watched the wind brush up against the trees and shake the fallen leaves while Tsujihara painted little figurines and rattled off who they were for and the meanings of their colors.

There were a few she didn’t explain, but judging by the colors and shapes Asahi could make guesses; maybe something for Tsujihara’s mother, and a few cranes that he assumed were for Miss Shiharu and her children. She had one for each of the living children and her notable friends—Asahi, Sonoru, and a few girls from the city—and a small collection of assorted ones she wanted to scatter across the city’s graveyard as an offering.

Tsujihara nodded off after two hours, laying her head back on the tree and closing her eyes midway through painting. Asahi closed the paint jars as soon as he noticed, careful not to disturb her. Sometimes she opened her mouth, then closed it again—very rarely a single word escaped, but it didn’t seem to hold any meaning.

Asahi let his mind wander for a few minutes. He came out of it when Tsujihara gently leaned towards him, but she was still asleep.

He carefully tried to sit her upright again; she didn’t even react with a murmur or wake up. She fell back over once he let go, her head on his shoulder.

“Tsujihara looks comfy.”

Asahi startled at the comment, then glared at Sonoru after he recovered. He didn’t feel particularly embarrassed until he saw his friend’s grin.

“She’s asleep, to start with,” Asahi pointed out in a murmur. “Try not to wake her up.”

Sonoru came a bit closer and bent down. He tilted his head to one side.

“I think she’s too deep to care. They’ve been running her ragged recently.”

“She’s the only person who watches all the children now, so…” Asahi glanced over and gently brushed some of her hair away from her face. “I can’t imagine it’s easy, at least. But I’ve never seen her show it.”

Sonoru sighed and sat down on the ground, cross-legged.

“Honestly? To me, it looks like she’s hiding it—she doesn’t want anyone to notice.”

“It’s a lot to handle, between what she’s seen and what she has to do everyday. No one can blame her for taking it one step at a time.”

Sonoru didn’t look convinced, but Tsujihara let out a little noise before he could say anything. Asahi gave her a concerned glance when she shivered.

She remained still and silent for another minute, then coughed. The cough turned into choking for air, and Asahi gently shook her shoulder.

“Tsujihara?” he tried to ask.

She stayed unresponsive, though—she didn’t react to him, at least. Sonoru came closer to pull her upright and pat her shoulders, braver than Asahi. His heart sped up as he tried to think of options; will she wake up on her own, or should he get someone?

Asahi remembered the still-unanswered question she posed when she killed the rebel leader. What she should do if she was scared of herself…maybe, somehow, this was related.

Tsujihara’s whole body shook as she sputtered again, and in the next instant her eyes opened. Sonoru took a few steps back as she tried to steady her breaths. She slightly raised one hand, then lowered it again.

Asahi waited until her shoulders relaxed and the fear had mostly left her eyes before he spoke up.

“Are you all right?”

She looked up and glanced towards him, blinking for a second, then sat back up.

“...Yes. Sorry.”

Her gaze focused on something distant, beyond Asahi and Sonoru. Maybe she could still remember whatever woke her up.

“You look pale,” Asahi pointed out gently. “Can I bring you back to your room so you can rest?”

Tsujihara shook her head and stood up.

“I should—”

She moved too quickly; as soon as she got on two feet, she winced and wavered. Asahi moved quicker than Sonoru could to get up and keep her from falling. Tsujihara pushed away from him and leaned on the tree instead. She took a breath and tried again, succeeding in being upright but still swaying.

“Please let Kinjo take you inside,” Sonoru replied, soft but firm. “I’ll bring the paints and figurines with you.”

“I want to do something first.” Tsujihara turned towards Asahi and offered a smile, but it didn’t hold any happiness—just pain. “Thank you for coming out with me. I can clean this up myself in a few minutes.”

Tsujihara left before Asahi could protest, gathering up some amount of strength and walking off with a faint hesitance that most people wouldn’t recognize.

He hoped whatever happened didn’t occur often, for her sake.

— —

Seiko’s head throbbed and spun. The voices wouldn’t let up—she couldn’t believe she even had control—and they were shouting. But nothing they said sounded like actual words, just…incomprehensible gibberish meant to fill her mind so she gave it over to them. Her heart still raced from the dream of choking.

She held herself with more steadiness than she felt; she let one hand trail against the wall in case she needed something to steady herself with when the voices tried to gain command.

She knocked on the study door once she reached it. Thankfully, Lord Gin answered.

“Who is it?”

“Tsujihara Seiko, sir.”

Some papers shuffled on the other side. “You may enter.”

Seiko pushed open the door; Lord Gin’s indifference quickly turned to concern once he saw her. She winced.

“You look…” Lord Gin began, then hesitated.

Pathetic, a few voices suggested. Weak.

“...Unwell.” He shifted a bit in his chair. “If you came for a few hours’ break—and even if not—take it. I’d rather shuffle around servants to make sure every child is seen to than replace their primary caretaker.”

Seiko shook her head. “No, I—”

Before she could say it, pieces of her dream—something she only half-remembered before—flashed in her mind. Knives. Blood. Screaming. Tears. It didn’t seem right to call it a nightmare, more like a…prediction of sorts.

The voices screamed, and she tried to blink away a few tears. They tried to steal her senses from her—she found it harder and harder to breathe.

“Please.” It came out as a murmur; she didn’t know if Lord Gin even heard it. “I can’t… Please, Father, help me protect them.”

Seiko lowered herself to the ground, the voices overwhelming her. Lord Gin stood up and gave her a worried look.

“I don’t want to kill anyone else.”

She blinked, then the world grew silent as the voices forced her into sleep.