Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

Seiko had the time to pay for a space at the inn, give some thanks for the safe trip at the shrine, and write and send a letter to Mikka about her progress so far. She kept herself busy with sightseeing for the rest of the evening. Her voices refused to stay quiet—they demanded that she look at the sakura, compared the capital to her hometown, and occasionally gave a few words towards the royal family.

She tried not to listen to said murmurings, if only because some comments bordered on treason—and for the fact that their disdain of others influenced her view of people. Truly them was as nigh impossible, unfortunately.

She woke up to their usual morning bustle and quickly got ready by their insistence. You need to make a good impression, the voices insisted. He’ll push you away again if he thinks you’re still mad. You’ll only be a bane to Mikka then.

Honestly, Seiko didn’t know if she really believed it—but they held enough influence over her thoughts that she complied to keep them a little softer. They weren’t as persistent if she did as they asked. Having less control over her actions was worth having a slightly clearer mind.

She let the voices guide her back to the palace, trying to obey each little criteria they gave her. Look elegant, but not haughty. Make sure your bangs are straight. They’re vain, so you can’t look better than them—but you can’t look like a country girl, either. The voices protested whenever she let herself relax, so she stayed tense.

A single guard stood by the gate, just like the previous afternoon. He looked her over, then slipped into the courtyard without a word; he didn’t close the gate behind him.

You should go inside, one voice murmured. Even Mikka agreed—it’s a beautiful place.

Seiko shook her head and stayed still. She shouldn’t push the boundaries of being here—even if she would prefer to be at Mikka’s side, she ought to make an effort to satisfy her mother’s wishes. Some voices praised her for ignoring the temptation, while others seemed disappointed.

The guard returned after a few minutes, returning to his post and examining the area beyond her. Not very long after, Lord Gin arrived with Princess Maenomi and a younger boy she assumed was Prince Kyuru.

She bowed as her first greeting.

“You’re punctual, as expected,” Lord Gin noted. The trio made it fully past the gate, then he stepped back behind it. The princess noticed and cast him a curious look. “Spend the morning doing whatever they want of you—if you can please these two, you’ll have no trouble with the rest.”

“You’re not coming with us, Father?” Princess Maenomi asked, curiosity clear in her tone with a small hint of…something like betrayal, if Seiko’s voices were to be believed. “I thought you would want to see Miss Tsujihara for yourself.”

“I’m needed somewhere else,” Lord Gin replied unconvincingly. “I have to help plan for your uncle’s little ‘test.’”

Princess Maenomi frowned. “Ah, so Jukazu is more important than us? Or are you just scared of Mother’s teasing?”

Lord Gin’s immediate response was a sigh, ignoring the question altogether. Have you noticed that he never looks at you? some voices asked. He still believes it, just like the people in your home—but he’s not wrong, either. He doesn’t know how to approach you.

He met her eyes for a second, then completely turned around.

“Maenomi should be at the shrine around noon,” Lord Gin said simply. “Whether or not Kyuru returns to the palace depends on his preference.”

Seiko nodded and gave another bow. “As you wish, sir.”

“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder at the frowning princess and distracted prince. “You can give your report this afternoon. If Miss Tsujihara passes, I’ll send someone out so she can greet the rest at dinner.”

“Understood, Father,” Princess Maenomi said a little unwillingly. Her younger brother murmured something to agree.

Lord Gin waited only a second before going back inside the palace gate. The princess crossed her arms and stared at him for a moment before smiling at Seiko.

“Well, Miss Tsujihara, it seems you’ll be following me,” Princess Maenomi said.

Prince Kyuru only then fully noticed. Had he even known his father was there, then left? one voice wondered.

“I want to lead!” the prince whined.

Princess Maenomi glared at him. “You’ll only want to visit the games—you’re too old for them.”

He’s still a boy, several voices noted. Those games were meant for children his age.

The siblings’ expressions only grew into deeper scowls, so Seiko opted to step in. The difference in ages might negate it, but quarrels like this were usually solved quickly.

“I saw shops on the way to some of the game stalls,” she said carefully. Both siblings gave her their attention, curious at her reasoning. “We could visit the stores that the princess finds interesting on our way to the games. If we run out of time and we haven’t visited the games by the time the princess needs to be at the shrine, I can take the prince separately. Does that sound fair?”

Princess Maenomi straightened herself a little, giving Seiko a feigned calm look. Her eyes showed some kind of embarrassment.

“It does to me, at least.”

Prince Kyuru crossed his arms and huffed, but it wasn’t genuine; he smiled even as he pretended to be dissatisfied. “Okaaaay…”

“Thank you,” Seiko said, trying to offer her best smile. She rarely had the chance to give it to strangers, so a part of her wondered if it looked too friendly. “Let’s get going, then, shall we?”

The siblings seemed satisfied and—despite their bickering—more-or-less walked next to each other. Seiko kept a few steps’ distance to be respectful while still being close by.

They had to walk a bit before they made it to any stores—Princess Maenomi seemed to have an eye for certain ones in particular, so Seiko didn’t stop her. Every now and then, she paused at a stall selling jewelry or little trinkets; she’d smile at one, contemplate it for a second longer, then walk past it.

No one paid attention to them—if they did, they were often looking at Seiko—and she couldn’t determine what she thought of it. On one hand, it meant that barely anyone recognized the royal siblings; on the other hand, Princess Maenomi held herself stiffly, frowning when she wasn’t distracted by jewels. Prince Kyuru took some convincing to keep from running off.

About an hour of wandering passed with only a few words exchanged; the most conversation was with Seiko successfully bribing Prince Kyuru to stay by her side with a few pieces of candy. They went into two stores, but the princess didn’t buy anything.

Princess Maenomi paused and glanced at Seiko from over her shoulder.

“Out of curiosity,” the princess said, “If you were going to give someone something, what would you choose?”

“I don’t have much experience,” Seiko admitted. “I’ve only gifted my mother.”

“A girl with your looks must have received gifts, though,” Princess Maenomi pointed out. She completely turned around, an interested look on her face. “I mean, you’re beautiful. Even if your birth father left, you must’ve gotten proposal gifts—what types did you like best?”

Seiko couldn’t find a good answer. You shouldn’t tell her they all thought you were mad, her voices reminded her. But what else could she say? Maybe a general answer would work best.

“I prefer simple things,” Seiko replied vaguely, hoping there wasn’t too long of a pause. “Shorter necklaces that won’t get caught on anything, or something to hold my hair back while I clean.”

“That makes sense, given the position you applied for,” Princess Maenomi noted. She looked around to glance at the surrounding stalls. “Something relating to the recipient’s personality, then.”

Prince Kyuru perked up and bounced down a little.

“Oh! Oh! Is it for me? Do I get the gift?”

“The only thing you’ll get from me is old toys,” the princess said immediately, glaring at her brother for a second. The prince deflated again and sighed, while Princess Maenomi shook herself off and stood a bit taller. “A close friend of mine is moving east. It might be a while before we have the chance to meet once she leaves, so I want to give her something as a parting gift.”

An interesting situation, a voice murmured. And wise for the other girl. The poor people here would wish they were the same…

Still, Princess Maenomi still wanted Seiko’s opinion. The voices were kind enough to help give her the words.

“Try thinking about what she likes,” Seiko suggested. “And if you can’t find anything, there’s no harm in asking. If she has time, I’m sure she would want to walk around the city one last time with a friend.”

Princess Maenomi paused for a second, then smiled.

“You’re full of good ideas, Miss Tsujihara; thank you,” she said nicely. She frowned a little. “But could I ask you to keep it to yourself? Mother doesn’t like when I spend money on others. Kyuru already knows to be silent.”

“Unless I’m asked to share, I won’t,” Seiko promised.

“That’s all I ask. It’s nice to hear.”

Readjusting herself and facing forward again, Princess Maenomi continued waking.

“Let’s keep going. If I’m going to get something for her, I’d like to get it before I go to the shrine.”

Prince Kyuru had nothing to protest and Seiko didn’t have a right to, so they went on with their wandering.