Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

Mikka hadn’t been in the capital since Seiko was four. It barely seemed any different; the people and their attitudes were the same. She wondered if anyone at the shrine would recognize her—probably not, but she could check before she left.

Seiko looked more at home here, illuminated by the warm glow of the lanterns, than she ever did in the village. Seeing that gave Mikka the energy to keep going, to keep talking, to hide the waver in her steps and her voice so she left her daughter with a happy memory.

Mikka stayed at an inn for the night, then Seiko introduced them to her other friend—Masaaki Sonoru—the next morning. He joined them as they walked around more, then left with Seiko in the afternoon to work.

Seiko and Masaaki walked her to the palace, and from there Mikka got around on her own. She took her time looking around—Seiko meant to show her, but work snuck up on her first—and tried to remember if a few plants were new or old. They were well-taken care of, at least; perky and colorful, maybe in a few new varieties. They must have people tending to them.

She gave Tsunkei and Prince Teiki her respects when she passed by the main room, then made her way up to Ozuru’s study. Some of the decorations were different; the farther she got from the places most visitors saw, the more personal portraits there were. The hallway with the bedrooms even had a few children’s scribbles displayed.

The door to Ozuru’s study was open. She poked her head in just to check and see if he was inside.

Unsurprisingly, he was—sitting at his desk with a furrowed brow, frowning while he shuffled through papers. Mikka expected as much; he didn’t have an easy job. He never did.

Mikka waited for a minute until his eyes flitted up. He blinked, then lifted his head and straightened somewhat.

“I didn’t expect you,” he said, taken aback. “I heard you were in the capital, but didn’t think you would have forgiven me.”

“I hated you for a while,” Mikka admitted. “But then I decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“Could I ask why?”

She shrugged. “I’m only getting worse. I didn’t want to be bitter and physically ill. It would’ve made me and Seiko miserable.”

Ozuru shuffled in his seat, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk.

“I assume you're here to talk about her? You wouldn’t come without a reason.”

“First things first,” Mikka said, wandering closer, “Would it be all right if I met with Maenomi and Kyuru? I’d like to see my daughter’s half-siblings.”

“As long as Seiko is with you.”

“They don’t know, do they?”

“No. Only Jukazu remembers her, and I’m trying to keep them separate. She’s adjusted remarkably well, though, all things considered.”

“That’s good. She had a few reservations, so I was a little worried.”

Mikka sat down and they fell into silence. She took note of the room around her—the exact same study Kyuburu had before his son, with the same arrangements—while Ozuru just stared at her. Once she noticed, she flashed him a little smile and he flinched.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Louder, he explained, “I’m…trying to figure out why you’re so calm. I essentially forced you and Seiko away out of unfounded fear; I convinced myself it was the right thing, but I never stopped doubting it.”

“It…was hard—for both of us,” Mikka replied, looking down at the desk. “Seiko didn’t understand it for a long time—considering she held on to that reputation even in my hometown, I don’t think she has a very high opinion of you. But it doesn’t do anyone any favors by holding a grudge.”

She sighed. On to the main point.

“...That being said, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything you need, Mikka, I’ll do my best to provide,” Ozuru promised. “I owe you as much.”

Mikka nodded and took a little breath. She let herself fully relax, noticed every little ache in her body, realized how much effort it took to keep her eyes open. Ozuru must have seen it—her frailty, her illness—because he frowned.

“I don’t expect to see the end of this year.” He looked away when she said it, like he used to when he heard news he wanted to avoid. “Consider this my final wish—watch over Seiko. Make sure she’s happy, socializing, getting along with Maenomi and Kyuru, doing the best she can despite the war. You never have to interact with her beyond that, just…give me the assurance that she’ll have a home, for once. She deserves to be happy now that rumors aren’t following her.”

“Yukira has barely been here to spread them,” Ozuru noted, leaning back in his chair. “Good riddance—that woman’s jealousy will drive her mad. She won’t even let Maenomi be happy.”

He shook his head and looked up at Mikka again, resolve in his eyes.

“I swear, Mikka—I’ll do everything in my power to keep Seiko safe,” Ozuru assured her. “Her, Maenomi, Kyuru, and whoever else they want. If no one else lives, I’ll make sure they do; as soon as there’s strong danger, they’re going east. That’s all I can do for them now as their father.”

“You could still bond with them,” Mikka pointed out. “Seiko might be harder to convince, but Maenomi and Kyuru must need some support. A few good memories to balance out the bad will help them just as much as protection.

“...I’ll consider it.”

“If that’s the best you can do, then I’ll accept that.” She paused for a moment, then managed a little smile again. “But thank you for listening.”

“Please don’t thank me. I’ve yet to do anything praiseworthy.”