Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

Seiko let herself forget about Miss Shiharu’s murder. If the voices told her something about it, she decided they were lying; they were just taunting her by calling her a killer, they wanted to intimidate her by encouraging her to finish off the rest of the family. Ignoring it made it a lot easier to cope with—otherwise, she feared the voices would overwhelm her.

She almost believed that she dreamt she stabbed Miss Shiharu, that she wasn’t there until the morning when the bodies were discovered. No one corrected her.

At first, she ate alone during meals—then Maenomi noticed, and she happily took the excuse to ignore her eldest cousin. It inspired Rinatsu to sit with Seiko when she wanted a bit more silence. Outside of meals, as per Lord Gin’s request, Seiko stayed near others; it helped her maintain some normalcy, as well.

Summer officially ended, and a little over two weeks later came Seiko’s birthday. It was her second at the capital, but the first when anyone knew—it happened to come up in conversation during an earlier festival with Kinjo and Masaaki, while Maenomi learned of it through idle chatter. Kyuru heard not long after, likely from his sister.

Seiko didn’t expect to visit Maenomi that morning just to find the girl completely dressed, nor did she intend to sit down and have her hair brushed and pulled back until she told Maenomi she was satisfied with the look. Breakfast afterwards proceeded as per usual, albeit with everyone younger than her primary charge giving their congratulations.

They’re more willing to tell you to have a nice day than they are to continue mourning, the voices scoffed.

She put aside the comment and let herself smile back at the real people. Mikka couldn’t come to visit this year or the year before; to some extent, it made it feel like Seiko had a sort of real family here, instead of one she shared no relation to but one blood bond. She was honored to know the children cared enough to remember.

The children all grouped around Seiko, maintaining conversation while they ate. Everyone dispersed as they needed to—Maenomi and Rinatsu to the grand shrine, and all the boys followed Lady Keichiro out. Seiko left once the table emptied, afraid of lingering for too long without anyone else to dull the voices.

Seiko wandered the halls uninterrupted, winding her way down to the entrance. The large doors were left open in nice weather; guards stood by it to make sure no one armed came in. She appreciated being able to see the beginnings of the changing leaves.

Kinjo, both surprisingly and not, stood by the door. He offered a smile when he saw her, brushing himself off. He wasn’t on duty—he had on civilian clothes.

“Good morning,” he greeted nicely. “And happy birthday.”

“I’ve heard that phrase more times in the past hour than I have my entire life,” Seiko admitted.

“Maybe I can help give some variation.” The voices quietly pointed out the little shake in his voice—the awkwardness mixed in with confidence. “Would you mind if I took you on a little walk?”

Seiko chuckled despite really meaning to. “Will we actually reach a destination this time?”

His eyes lit up with a kind of humor. “Yes, I promise. So long as your mother doesn’t come back for another surprise visit.”

Kinjo took a step towards the door and gestured for Seiko to follow. Without another word, she agreed.

He led her out of the front courtyard, nodding a greeting to the guards standing watch on his way past, and took the main road through town. Seiko did the same for any of the townsfolk she recognized on the way; an older couple, a few children, some shopkeepers.

She focused on the warmth of the sun, rather than the chill of the voices’ murmurings. Akemi’s voice occasionally broke through, but she only said gibberish—she lost her clarity quicker than the king and Prince Teiki had. Her little brother sometimes joined, but usually stayed quiet enough that she could forget he had died.

After a few minutes, Kinjo glanced back at her and spoke up.

“Almost there,” he said. “It was prettier during the summer festival, but it should be fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

He flashed her a quick grin, then looked ahead again. They strayed from the road and traveled along a trail up the mountain; wooden poles periodically dotted the edge of it. They were likely used to hold decorations and lanterns during festivals—Seiko mainly stayed in the town itself whenever she helped set up.

Kinjo paused at a clearing, then stepped inside with a bit of hesitation. Seiko followed after him. She smiled at the area—a small bench in one corner, the rest being open space, with sunlight filtering in through the trees overhead. In between the wide trunks, she could see faraway pieces of the further mountains and even the ocean.

“I can’t take credit for finding it,” Kinjo admitted. “Masaaki asked around for me, but ultimately Princess Maenomi suggested it. It’s a scenic place for some peace and quiet.”

Seiko nodded and came a little further in. Kinjo lingered near the entrance. Even the voices remained relatively silent, either because she willed them to or because of the area.

“...You look beautiful here, Tsujihara.”

Seiko startled at the sudden compliment—soft and caring in a way she hadn’t heard before—and gave him a quizzical look. Kinjo responded with sheepishness.

“You’ve never had anyone tell you that?” he asked curiously.

“Not with that tone,” Seiko replied, shaking her head. Something about it made her heart beat faster, and then it steadied when she actually focused on Kinjo.

“Well, it might have been a little lie—you look beautiful everywhere.” He took a very small step forward. “The way you take care of the royal children, how you’re so willing to help others, how you’ve convinced people you’re trustworthy—your smile, your laugh, everything—I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

A part of his tone scared her, but that part was influenced by the voices. Think about him. You don’t want to be like Mikka, do you?

“It’s nothing special,” Seiko tried as an attempt to deflect the compliment. “I just happen to be good with children and spend time in the city.”

Kinjo smiled, and the part of her that she controlled wanted to smile back but the voices kept her.

“You’re the best happenstance I’ve ever met, then.”

‘Happenstance.’ What an apt way to describe your circumstances. He doesn’t even know who you are…not really. He’ll never understand you.

Yet she expected Kinjo’s next few words, let the look in his eyes burn away the voices with its warmth.

“Tsujihara Seiko… I love you.”

The voices completely vanished with the confession, leaving her to try to find a good way to respond. Seiko looked to Kinjo for inspiration—maybe she could find some of his hesitance and answer based on that, or find something that implied he didn’t mean it.

Despite that, he stood there patiently, gentle blue eyes focused on her. He didn’t move closer, nor moved away. Then she remembered his attempts to cheer her up, the way he tried to tell jokes, and realized that he must have felt this way for a year, now—he just shifted from awkwardly turning away to acting relatively normal. Her heart fluttered and she wanted to laugh, but subtle fear rose instead.

Kinjo noticed; he stepped back with a little wince.

“Is that a rejection?”

She hated the way his smile faded into something neutral—something to hide another wave of sheepishness, or maybe even guilt.

“...Not quite,” Seiko admitted after a second. Kinjo’s expression fell into a kind of relief. “I’m the same, I just…have some reservations.”

“About our different classes?”

Seiko shook her head. “I’ve been…subjected to many rumors. I’m the bastard daughter of a former shrine maiden—it doesn’t exactly do ‘reputation’ any favors. I don’t want to get you involved.”

“Honestly? I try not to let rumors bother me.” He paused, then offered a sympathetic look. “Still, I understand if it makes you uncomfortable. I have no intention nor desire to put you on the spot, so you’re free to decline. We can stay friends.”

She took a second to weigh the pros and cons—or, maybe more accurately, decide if her joy or fear was stronger. She didn’t want to lose a friend—not when she still thought about Miss Shiharu, expecting her to eat with her—so ultimately, that side won.

“Maybe… We could just keep it in mind and continue as we have been,” Seiko murmured. “We can start there.”

Kinjo nodded. “I’m satisfied with that.”

She smiled, and he smiled back. He finally entered the clearing, sat down on the bench, and entertained some conversations.

Seiko focused on the interaction so she could avoid the voices’ murmur.

He’ll never understand…