Gin and Kuro: The Greatest Stories

Maenomi liked not seeing Mother, actually. Her and Jukazu were the ones who made her the most miserable. Mother wasn’t there to taunt her about Teha—she was too busy making the rest of them look like boars. Jukazu didn’t have the energy to tease her with Father using him as a second opinion for policies.

She could almost forget there were people out there that wanted her dead. At least Teha was safe in the east.

She got off work and expected the usual entourage back home—a soldier and whoever Father walked past that happened to be free. Instead, Miss Tsujihara, Kyuru, and an older woman were there; the latter told Kyuru a story, her voice low but full of emotion.

“...And when the tengu woke up, he was in a beautiful field. Nature had grown over and covered the earth. He lived a happy life thereafter.”

Maenomi vaguely recognized the story—something about a tengu who was injured trying to prevent two people from fighting—but it captured Kyuru’s attention wonderfully. He’d mostly grown out of fantasies sometime after Teiki’s death.

Miss Tsujihara noticed her first, offering a smile in greeting.

“All done?”

Maenomi nodded. “Yes. Will the stranger be coming with us?”

“If it’s not too much,” the older woman said, changing to her normal tone. She stood up and offered a bow. “I’m Tsujihara Mikka—Seiko’s mother.”

She straightened and offered a bow. “Oh! Your daughter may have already introduced me, but my name is Gin-Hyomoto Maenomi.” When she stood up, she added, “Although I can’t say I’m surprised—you look very much like Miss Tsujihara.”

Like Miss Tsujihara except a little paler and thinner, maybe. Father mentioned that Tsujihara Mikka was ill.

“Your mother is Hyomoto Yukira?” Tsujihara Mikka asked curiously. Her daughter started gathering up the little things Kyuru brought with him to stay occupied.

“Yes,” Maenomi replied after a second’s hesitation. “Do you recognize the name?”

“We used to work together,” the older woman explained. “I wouldn’t call us friends, but we had a mutual acquaintance—a few, actually, but one was especially notable.”

Miss Tsujihara recognized something in her mother’s eyes, her expression shifting to weary for a moment. Whatever it was, she chose not to say—not in front of Maenomi and Kyuru, at least.

Instead, she gave Maenomi a curious look.

“You wanted to get something for your friend?”

Maenomi nodded. Teha didn’t believe that the capital still went on as if nothing happened—Uncle and Teiki’s deaths weren’t wounds anymore, just scars of life. Maenomi wanted to show her they were okay.

“Let’s start walking, then,” Miss Tsujihara said kindly. “You can lead.”

Maenomi murmured some agreement, although ultimately Kyuru moved a few steps ahead of her. She would have complained before the war—but without Mother muttering slander at every opportunity, Maenomi actually felt safe to bond with him. He needed however many friends he could get.

They idly chatted while they walked, sometimes telling stories and sometimes saying random things and building a conversation off of that. After an hour, they stopped to give Tsujihara Mikka a break—Maenomi brought Kyuru over to a game to keep him occupied while Miss Tsujihara lightly pestered her mother about health.

Maenomi watched Kyuru try to take out one of the goldfish with a paper scoop; Masaaki tried to get him a fish from the stall owner, but failed to negotiate. Kyuru must see this as his chance to finally attain a pet.

He kept trying until the scoop broke, pulling back with a pout.

“Want one more try?” the stall owner asked.

Kyuru gave Maenomi the best pleading eyes he could muster. Her heart tugged, but she shook her head.

“Miss Tsujihara only gave me enough for two games,” Maenomi said. She glanced back at her aide just to see her still talking to Tsujihara Mikka; her concern was still there, but faded. “And it would be rude to interrupt her.”

“I have some money you can use.”

Maenomi startled at the voice, while Kyuru just gave a quizzical look in that direction. When she looked, she barely recognized Father—the sun made his hair look lighter, cast more shadows on his face. He wasn’t even scowling. She couldn’t remember the last time he came out to a festival; did he ever?

Father took out a little pouch, retrieved a few pieces, then handed them to the stall owner. Kyuru perked up when the owner gave him a new scoop and a bowl.

This time, he watched all of the goldfish with a determined eye. He took a minute, then quickly but carefully put the scoop in the water. He caught a fish, pulled it out of the water, and dumped it in the cup.

He bounced up quickly enough that the goldfish almost spilled out again. His laugh made Maenomi crack a little smile—in the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn Father looked the same.

Kyuru’s celebration caught the Tsujihara women’s attention. Their first reaction was to smile, but when they noticed Father they differed—Tsujihara Mikka gave a curious look, while Miss Tsujihara just stood a little straighter.

Tsujihara Mikka stood up as the stall owner went to get something for Kyuru to take the fish home with. She stopped at the other end of the stall, the pool of goldfish between them, and bowed.

“Lord Gin.” She stood, and her eyes shimmered. “Are you here to enjoy the festival as well?”

He looked away. “...I had free time.”

“Do you mind if I stay?” Tsujihara Mikka asked. “You can spend time with your children, and I can spend time with mine.”

“It would be rude to separate mother and daughter.”

“Thank you.”

Kyuru received his goldfish in a little bag. After admiring it for a few seconds, he turned and smiled at Father.

“Can I try again to get him a friend?” the boy asked.

“Maenomi still needs to get something, it looks like,” Father replied, shaking his head. He glanced at Maenomi, his expression something like cautious curiosity. Like he wanted to confirm, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to. “It’s something for the Tekazu Hafumi girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She shuffled, waiting for the chiding that usually followed, but he didn’t say anything about it. His eyes didn’t even suggest any reservation.

“Let’s not waste too much time, then. Shiharu is going to need help with the younger ones soon, so the Tsujiharas will have to leave.”

With no complaints, she took the lead again.

…

Miss Tsujihara stayed with them for another hour before leaving; Tsujihara Mikka left with her, and Kyuru decided to bring his new pet home. It left Maenomi alone with Father.

She expected it would be more awkward to walk with a man she barely knew, but his eyes lacked the judgment that Mother’s often had. She let herself relax.

Maenomi had brought the letter with her so she could send it as soon as she got her gift. She found a necklace and a fan, put them and the letter in a box, then handed it off to the people responsible for communications. Father didn’t say much during the whole process.

Father stopped walking on the path up to the palace gates, where it was truly just the two of them. He attempted something like friendliness, or maybe care.

“Do you miss Tekazu?” he asked. “I know you spent a lot of time with her.”

She bit her lip, scared of the question, but nodded.

“She’s in the east, now, isn’t she?”

Another nod. She shuffled and looked to the ground, steeling herself for the disappointment, the derision.

“If you would let me, I’d like to help plan how you’ll get there. You deserve to meet her again in person, even if it’s not for another year or so.”

“...What?”

Maenomi blinked at him. She must have misheard him—no one else would be willing to help. Why would he?

Father seemed to notice her internal question and sighed.

“If Tekazu makes you happier than anyone else could, I won’t tell you to cut off all ties with her.” His expression shifted to a much more familiar evenness. “I regret that she had to leave the capital, but it means you’ll have somewhere to go in the east. If I know where Tekazu is, I can send you there if the war gets too harsh.”

“Is this about me and Teha, or the war?”

“You and Tekazu make it easier for me to prepare for the worst in the war,” Father maintained. “If you’re willing, we can discuss some details later—at what point you’ll leave, your route, and notifying Tekazu’s family.”

“...I assume you’ll tell Mother and Jukazu?”

“No. Yukira would ramble to the whole countryside in a heartbeat and Jukazu would write the whole plan out and leave it for the rebels to find just to spite me. Only you, myself, and anyone you trust will know.”

“And it won’t hurt Teha? I don’t want to put her at risk.”

“When you leave, you’ll likely be claimed dead. I’ll be staying here, but you, Kyuru, and Tsujihara Seiko will go.”

“Why Miss Tsujihara?”

Father sighed and looked away. “For now, let’s just say that I’d rather she stay with you.”

Maenomi wanted to ask after it more, but she knew Father wouldn’t answer her. She decided to be grateful for what he’s already told her.

“I already had a plan to see her after I turned eighteen,” Maenomi admitted. “I’m not dedicated enough to stay here until the end; I want to make sure I live to see her again.”

“Very well. I’ll do what I can to make that happen—for more than just your sake.”