Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

I am sorry that it came to this. But please, do not hold it against yourself. It was my mistake to let the boy stray so far—and my punishment is to see each of my children fall, because I cannot die in their place to atone for my own son’s sins.

Seiko startled awake at the voice she didn’t recognize, but an actual person stood next to her.

“It’s time to leave—one of the shrine maidens gave us a warning that the rebels are coming. Jukazu isn’t going to do anything to help.”

Understanding the urgency in Maenomi’s tone, Seiko sat up. The princess stood near her bed and Kinjo waited by the door. The voices were eerily silent, almost completely inaudible.

“You weren’t able to talk to Masaaki?” Seiko asked, directing it towards Kinjo.

He shook his head. “It looks like he left; he wasn’t in his room, at least. There was a letter for my sister, but that’s it.”

“I can’t blame him,” Maenomi murmured. “Kyuru treated him like an older brother. Running away seems perfectly acceptable for everyone in a case like this.”

In an attempt to keep Maenomi from getting too upset—meeting with Tekazu Hafumi seemed to be her main motivation—Seiko got up to gather her things. The other two were already prepared; both in warm clothes and armed, in Kinjo’s case. Neither Seiko nor Maenomi felt they were safe with a knife of their own.

Seiko slipped on a jacket and shoes, then patted her little komainu figurine before she left the room. She wanted to take it with her, but couldn’t justify it—something that fragile might break on the way.

Kinjo led the other two out of the palace. The route avoided the main halls, winding through in the quickest way without being seen. Sometimes, a shout or two carried to them, and they walked a little quicker without drawing suspicion. On one hand, they look uncoordinated enough to just be fleeing servants; on the other, anyone who actually lived in the palace could recognize Maenomi and Seiko.

Each footstep seemed too loud, every breath seemed a bit hard. But, at the same time, she was inexplicably calm—like some voice she couldn’t fully remember was in the back of her mind, assuring her that she would live past this. Most of her fears went towards Kinjo and Maenomi, who didn’t have the same vague promise. Even the voices—when they occasionally made an appearance during the escape—agreed.

They didn’t see any soldiers—rebel or ally—at all, merely heard the echoes of a struggle. Seiko wondered how many people left; Masaaki couldn’t have been the only one. Even a princess didn’t believe in staying here until the end.

The trio went by the front door and into the garden cautiously; Kinjo made sure to stop and pause if he thought there might be any danger. Still, Seiko caught on to murmurs before he did.

The people they belonged to—a group of five rebels, based on their outfits—were still a little ways away at the front gate, but the snow and fallen leaves didn’t do the escaping three any favors; only the still-dark sky gave them cover. Kinjo grimaced once he saw them and looked back at Seiko.

“There’s too much for me to handle on my own,” he whispered. “I can disarm one, then give you the knife? You won’t need to kill them, just—”

Seiko shook her head. “Not with Maenomi here.”

Her main concern was the voices, but Kinjo took it to mean that he didn’t want to distress the princess. He gave some murmur of understanding, even if Maenomi seemed to take a distraction by being called her first name.

“We can try to sneak around them, then. Come on.”

The other two didn’t have the means or minds to protest, so they let Kinjo lead around a few dead bushes and skeleton trees to make a wide berth around the rebels. Seiko moved as silently as she could—she could guess that the other two did the same. Given the time and some amount of luck, they might be able to get through the front gate without being noticed.

Ha! ‘Luck.’ You would be better off praying for a change in fate.

Seiko grimaced as the voices laughed at her apparent naivete. Both Kinjo and Maenomi stopped immediately and turned towards her.

“Are you all right?” Princess Maenomi asked.

Just as Seiko began to nod, one of the rebels looked in their direction.

“Hey!” he shouted. It gained the attention of the other four. “What are you doing? Anyone walking around is in danger of getting caught up in the fighting.”

Somehow, Kinjo mustered enough bravery to stand up a little straighter and respond.

“Is it not customary to visit the shrine at the end of each year?” he asked evenly. To her, at least, it sounded genuine. “Given that the festival was canceled, we—”

“You would let your home fall into chaos while you pray to the gods for blessings?” the rebel scoffed. “I thought you were supposed to believe in honor.”

“Honor is useless if you end up dead.”

The man glared at them for a few seconds, then stepped forward. Seiko instinctively moved back; she couldn’t tell if he noticed.

“Let me check you first,” he decided. “If you’re really going to the shrine, you’d have money but no weapons, yeah? Anything you can’t explain will go against you; this’ll go by easier if you just cooperate.”

Kinjo took out his knife but kept it out of view. A part of her wanted to grab it, but she folded her hands behind her back instead.

Seiko managed to steady her breath and present some outward impression of calmness. Maenomi moved a little closer, frowning but following Seiko’s lead.

Once the rebel came close enough, Kinjo lunged forward and hit him with the blunt end of his knife. The man stumbled back in surprise, and in the next second of weakness Kinjo slashed at his legs.

“We need to keep going,” Kinjo said, urgently looking back at the other two. He seemed prepared to say more, but the rebel cut him off.

“The man has a knife! They’re resisting!”

Kinjo winced and let out a curse while Princess Maenomi squeaked. Seeing no other option, Seiko swept down to take the fallen rebel’s knife while he was still in pain.

As soon as Seiko touched the hilt, a new voice popped into her mind and fell back again.

Literally stabbed in the back… A fitting end for someone as foul as me. Let this cursed line end, please, so I didn’t kill for nothing.

She worried Kinjo and Maenomi with her pause. It gave enough time for the other rebels to arrive.

One of them reached for Maenomi; she froze under the threat, so Seiko moved forward and cut across his outstretched arm. She knew the voices wanted to react to the sight of blood, but something stopped them.

The princess looked fixed in place, kept there by fear or memories or some combination of both, so Seiko and Kinjo did what they could to protect her. Seiko’s stabs were weaker than if the voices controlled her; without them, she had no experience.

She struggled to hold the knife correctly or put sufficient force behind it. It made her virtually useless; the only real fighter was Kinjo, and he was outnumbered.

Seiko tried to jab at the nearest rebel, but he easily shoved her aside and into the snow. Kinjo fended off the other three while Maenomi watched.

The soldier Seiko tried to attack took a step forward and brandished his knife. She waited for the voices to intervene, hopeless without them. The only voice that murmured—the one she woke up to, and the same that spoke when Prince Jukazu spoke about the late king’s death—didn’t seem able to control her the way the others did. If the rest were capable of intervening, they chose not to.

She hesitated long enough that the rebel moved forward. She expected to hurt—for the knife to push into her—so she winced. But someone else let out a whimper while she had her eyes closed.

Maenomi took the stab for her and fell back. Seiko catched her by instinct. She didn’t notice the blood on the girl’s neck for another second—and the others seemed to see it at the same time.

The rebel that attacked her moved back, leaving Seiko free to lower Maenomi down. Without the voices, she felt the full weight of it; the urgency of trying to stop the bleeding so the princess wouldn’t die.

She didn’t think she could put enough pressure on it with her hands alone. Would the snow be cold enough to slow it down?

With every second her mind raced and her breathing grew unsteady, while Maenomi choked and sputtered on her own blood. Seiko pulled her closer, desperate. Kinjo sat on the other side of her sister, realizing Seiko’s distress and trying to help.

If Maenomi died, then…

What would you do to save her? To still have a blood family?

Her breath caught and she whispered her response.

“Anything.” Was there a point in even leaving the village, if Mikka’s wish couldn’t be fulfilled? She would still have Kinjo, but for how long?

Are you certain, child? It will not be an easy path.

“It never has been. Just…please…”

Seiko cradled Maenomi and her body moved without any resistance, completely limp. Kinjo pulled away while the rebels watched, the one who stabbed her muttering some kind of apology.

Very well. She will have a second chance, and you will lead a new life. Do me proud, child, and avoid the mistakes of your ancestors.

“I… I will. Thank you, Lady Aimiki.”

The woman’s voice faded. Seiko let out a relieved chuckle as Maenomi breathed again. Kinjo let out a sigh to the same effect, but he paused when he looked up at Seiko. She barely noticed, glad her sister was still alive and that the voices were completely quiet.

The injured rebel scrambled back, while the rest looked at each other and dropped their weapons. They split up, two and two—one went into the palace, the other into town. The fifth, unable to efficiently run due to his wound, repositioned himself to painfully bow.

“Lady Aimiki has come through! Lay down your arms, everyone—Gin now has a queen!"