On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

Three Hundred And Forty-Five

“I appreciate you making time for this.” Kudou-san said, a sad expression on his face, the black suit and tie he was wearing completely at odds with his usual priestly attire. “I know things are hard for you, with a lot of things you must do, Akio-kun, but… I’m sure she would be happy, seeing you here.”

He nodded at the coffin, where Tsukiko-san’s pristine corpse lay, dressed in a white kimono, her body surrounded by flowers that had been offered by the mourners at the wake. Since I had missed that, Kudou-san insisted I offer a flower, and I had placed a single white lily beside her uncovered face, which looked peaceful in death. Beside the coffin were several Buddhist priests from the previously neutral temples, chanting sutras and burning expensive incense.

“I hope so. But… this isn’t the end.” I avowed. “Just… a stepping-stone in her journey.”

“It pleases me to hear you say that, Akio-kun. Too much grief can crush a man, but the right amount can strengthen resolve and character. Besides… though she was scared, she never once shied away from her destined fate.”

“True.” Gin-san said, joining us, also in a mourning suit. “Well, Yasuhide, to think we’d all be gathered here like this, and so civilly as well. Wonders never cease.”

“True.” Kudou-san smiled. “But, if anyone would wish for our unity, it would have been Tsukiko-san. Yes, I always saw her as one of my own, but… she was above factions, above everything but keeping the faith and Japan safe. And now… her calling has ended.”

“One calling.” Gin-san disagreed. “I do wonder what she will do with her new life.” He glanced at me, smiling. “What do you think, Akio-kun?” He revelled in showing off his new closeness to me in front of his long-time rival, Kudou-san.

“I think it’s up to Tsukiko-san. But whatever she wants to do, I’ll support her. After all, she’s my kin.”

“That sounds like a proposal to me. Perhaps I should say something like I’ll never let you have my granddaughter, but… well, I entrust her to you, Akio-kun. I hope next time, she can live the life she couldn’t before.” Kudou-san sighed. “Still, not everyone can know what we know. It is still an event filled with grief.”

I had to nod at that, even ignoring the joke Kudou-san made about marriage. Sure, I offered it, but only as a means to an end. Tsukiko-san… she can do as she sees fit when she returns. Though knowing her, I doubt she can completely give up on her duties to Tsukuyomi… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The bigger issue currently was the two elderly people standing by the coffin, staring blankly into the still, composed face of their dead daughter.

“Do… do you want to speak to them?” Kudou-san asked, troubled. “I know you still feel responsible for her death, but you did all you could. Not even the Gods themselves are infallible, we know this. Besides…” A look of self-loathing crossed his wrinkled face as he considered them. “… they were very devout believers in the Gods. They rejoiced when their daughter who they had very late in life, was found to have a gift, the full trust and blessing of Tsukuyomi. So they didn’t hesitate to encourage her to take up the role Tsukuyomi thrust upon her… from that day, not even they ever saw her face again, spoke their daughter’s name. And their time with her grew infrequent, until by the time Tsukiko-chan was ten… she never saw them at all, barring rare family events.”

That’s certainly harsh. I was distancing myself from my family up until recently, and even that felt a bit uncomfortable. But to be isolated from such a young age… “Well, I’ll speak to them. Considering I was there at the end. And… I see regret in their faces. I think Tsukiko-san would like me to say something, try and console them. She was kind, and cared deeply for others.”

“Perhaps you are right.” Kudou-san agreed. “But she wouldn’t wish you to feel uncomfortable on her behalf…”

I shook my head. “When I made my resolve to accept her as kin, I accepted responsibility.” I repeated my earlier sentiments. “If you can excuse me.” I walked over towards them, noticing some of the other guests. Hikawa-san had travelled down with me by helicopter, and he was now with an extraordinarily pale and hollow-cheeked Uchida-san, who was as white as the corpse in the coffin. We exchanged eye contact, and Hikawa-san shrugged, showing that he had the situation in hand. Looking away guiltily, I caught sight of Yukiko-san in a rich black mourning dress. She was talking to Bankei-san, who was conducting the funeral, as a monk of some renown and with ties to every original faction of faith.

There are other important people too. I recognised some from Conclave, the heads of major shrines from Kyoto, Tokyo and further afield. Even so, there were merely a hundred or so mourners, a far-cry from the throngs at Conclave, easily able to be accommodated by the calm, contemplative surroundings of Tsukuyomi-jinja.

“Excuse me.” I said politely, and the two elderly people turned, looking at me with a little curiosity. “You were the parents of Tsukiko-san, right?” I asked.

“Tsukiko-san…” the old woman said, despite her grey hair and wrinkled features, reminding me a little of her daughter. She would have been beautiful when she was young, I wager. “… that takes me back. Our child, our miracle under the moon…” she said softly.

“Her name was not to be spoken, she told us so. It seems strange, but what choice did we have? Our little girl, one we never thought we’d ever have… she told us. And when the Gods ask, we mortals listen. But now… to hear her name so casually… well, she has passed, gone to the arms of her God at last, so I hope…” her grieving father managed, wiping at his reddened eyes. “Even though we had little to do with our daughter, it still hurts to outlive her. We were old, it should have been her watching us as our souls are freed by the flames to find peace.”

“Were… were you close?” her mother asked, and I nodded.

“Well, we were getting that way. We were working together for the good of Japan. It wasn’t just me though…” I signalled discretely to Yukiko-san, who at first shook her head, but I insisted, gesturing again. Biting down a sigh, the Imperial Princess walked over, before introducing herself casually.

“I am a friend of Tsukiko’s. She was my best friend, in fact. You can call me Yukiko.” She said, wary of whether they would recognise her, but it seemed they didn’t.

“Yukiko-chan. I see. A nice young girl, it seems.” The father said. “Another to call her by her name. Did… did you do that while she was still alive? Did she like it? Did it make her feel human again?” He rattled off his questions, his wife nodding beside him. The scent of incense was in the air, and the gentle chants of the monks, making the situation feel a bit surreal, otherworldly.

Yukiko-san looked at me, surprised by the questions, before deciding to throw it all to me. “Actually, Akio-san here was the first to call her by her name. He said that she needed to be more than just the Diviner, that Matsumuro Tsukiko mattered just as much.”

I did say something like that, didn’t I? Damn, I can be pretentious at times. “She did get pretty mad with me at the time.” I admitted, trying to turn it into a light story, one to soothe, at least a little, the grief her parents must be feeling. “But I talked her round, and in the end, I think she’d got used to having a name again.”

“That’s nice.” Her mother said, her voice cracking. She cast a glance at the cold, still body of her daughter. “Our Tsukiko. We named her after the moon, as the night she was born had the most gorgeous full moon hanging in the sky. To think, just like the full moon, she was ephemeral, vanishing ahead of us, her light extinguished.”

Yukiko-san looked uncomfortable with their grief. “At the end… Akio-san here was with her.”

I glanced at her, my eyes asking what she meant by telling them that, but she was urging me to console them further. Holding in a sigh, I nodded. “Indeed. I was there as she passed. She had regrets, certainly, but until the very end, she carried out what she believed was her duty.”

“Kudou-sama has told us a little about her death.” The old man said softly. “That she never backed down, not yielding to evil that was blasphemy to the Gods, and a danger to Japan. We know… it has something to do with the tragic deaths of so many in Kyoto. Not the details, but…”

“Our daughter was a quiet child. Until the time came when Tsukuyomi blessed her. But she would never have stood silent when evil threatened the land.” Her mother affirmed. “So, in the end… she was satisfied? I pray so, that her soul might find peace in Tsukuyomi’s embrace.”

Yukiko-san and I exchanged looks. She knows as well as I that her spirit isn’t in the embrace of any God, but… instinctively, I flared my Eye a little, able to see the ghostly spirit light of Tsukiko-san floating amidst a number of weaselkin, the bright light of Ginneka and the dimmer, orbiting moon of Kinneka around her, also joining the constellation only I and Shaeula could see. She’s still here with me. And in time…

“Is that… a blessing of the Gods?” the old man asked, gasping at the light, and I nodded.

“It is. It allows me to see that which is otherwise unseen. So I know… Tsukiko-san ended up where she wanted to be. In the end, her last smile was happy.” I resisted the urge to touch my lips, remembering the fleeting kiss she had forced upon me as her Astral body disintegrated. I wanted to tell them that Tsukiko-san would return in time, snatched from death, but I didn’t have the words, nor did I know if it was a good idea. Seeing my confusion, Yukiko-san was similarly stressed, until Kudou-san came to our rescue.

“I believe Bankei wishes to start the funeral.” He said, and indeed, the priests were now prepared. “We can talk later, reminisce about the good times. And talk… about the future.”

“Future?” Tsukiko-san’s mother said. “What future can there be now our daughter has passed on?”

“That’s for later. Now…” he said, nodding respectfully to Bankei-san. “… we celebrate her life and the manner of her death, and may the Gods hear all about it.”

“Won’t she tell them herself? Surely she will be in Tengoku, eternally rewarded for her deeds and sacrifices in life?” her father protested. Kudou-san merely smiled mysteriously, meeting my eyes, and as Bankei-san began the service, I found myself listening to his praise of her devotion and piety, and the new name she was given in death, so as to not call back her dead soul by calling her true name, was the longest I had ever heard, signifying the respect Bankei-san and the other priests held her in. If only it was as easy as religion would have us believe, that a name could recall the spirits of the slain. If so, then many of those who died in Kyoto could be reborn. Alas, life is seldom so kind…

********

“I insist. My wife and I are old, and we have no other family left. Besides… I know our daughter looked on you as a father figure, Kudou-sama.” After the funeral, we had all offered more beautiful flowers to Tsukiko-san, and her coffin was overflowing with beautiful white petals as it was sealed shut. We had then travelled across Kyoto to a crematorium, where the coffin had been burned, along with her body.

Seeing the look of horror on Yukiko-san’s face had shocked me. When she asked me hurriedly if Tsukiko-san needed her body to return, I understood though. I had consoled her by pointing out that Haru-san had no body but managed just fine with one from a Throne. Really, she should already know that, I think the occasion is getting to her. Which is understandable. Funerals of those you love are never easy. We had briefly discussed my plans for Tsukiko-san when she returned, or rather, my lack of them, as I was planning to allow Tsukiko-san to choose her path in life from this point onwards, but it seemed all that had been forgotten in Yukiko-san’s grief.

“Very well, I would be honoured to aid with the kotsuage, but… I believe that Akio-kun and … Yukiko-chan…” he grinned over the name, as she was keeping her status as the Princess secret, causing her to look away, face pink. “… should be allowed to assist us as well. After all, your daughter opened up her heart to them as she did to few others. Besides…” he smiled, as he picked up a pair of ornamental metal chopsticks. “… Akio-kun here holds your hope of seeing your daughter again.”

He went and said it. I mean, they are obviously devout believers, and know of Tsukiko-san’s powers at the least, so I understand it’s not a large risk, but… I exchanged a glance with Yukiko-san, who sighed. “Just tell them. It’s cruel not to, letting them think that Tsukiko is in Tengoku.”

“She’s not?” They gasped, and her mother teared up. “Surely… surely her good deeds would have prevented her fall to Yomi? Are the Gods so cruel? Kudou-sama, please tell us that isn’t true!” she begged, while her husband looked on, stony-faced.

At that, Yukiko-san looked mortified, her face pale. “No, that’s not what I meant…” she bit at her lip, pulling on her long braid in frustration.

“Calm down. How could our noble Lady Diviner suffer such a fate?” Kudou-sama assured them. “No, what I wished to say is, Tsukiko-chan had her final vision, knowing her death was to come. However, it would be more than just a death, but a cessation of her whole being.”

“No! That’s simply too cruel!” her mother cried, but Kudou-san continued.

“Seeing this, she entrusted the duties she carried to Akio-kun here.” he slapped me on the back. “Who was determined to turn aside her grim fate. So, at the end, after many struggles, she passed peacefully, her soul free to go where it willed.” His smile was kind, with a hint of melancholy. “Her soul decided not to go to Tengoku, but instead…” he looked at me, and I realised I had to continue.

“Her soul is with me. Waiting, strengthening herself, until the day she can live again.” I said.

“But… that’s impossible.” Her father said, and I nodded.

“I know. I’d have thought so too, a few months ago. But… hasn’t Tsukiko-san been giving true prophecies and visions from a very young age? I have other gifts. Those close to me, who I’ve shared a bond with, I can preserve their spirits, nurture them and eventually allow them to walk the Earth again.” Kudou-san wouldn’t be telling them this if they couldn’t be trusted. Well, the world at large didn’t know about Tsukiko-san’s powers, if they did, then it would have revolutionised science and religion…

“That… that is the power of the Gods! Surely it isn’t possible.”

“It is.” Yukiko-san said suddenly. “I’ve met another he has helped that way. She was murdered, her body destroyed, yet she is as real as you or I. As for the power of the Gods, is it any more unbelievable than the gift your daughter had? Predicting the future is something science says is impossible, yet she could do it.”

Letting my Eye glow a little, I pointed to the spirit light. “She’s there. You can’t see her, but she’s content, peacefully resting. I don’t know how long it’ll take to restore her, but I promised her she’d be free to choose her own path, free from her burdens.” I paused, thinking. “I hope that this time, you can treat her as a daughter, not as some servant of the Gods. In the end, all she wished for was to have experienced life, love, happiness, the same as anyone else. She was proud of what she had accomplished, but wanted to be a normal woman too.” I resisted the urge to touch my lips yet again.

“She’s… here?” her mother reached out timidly, completely in the wrong place.

“Excuse me.” I said, taking her hand, and letting it touch the spirit light, which passed through her.

“I… I felt something, I think.” She said, and her husband stretched out a hand. After some time guiding them, letting them cry, I looked at Yukiko-san, who was smiling gently, and a touch condescendingly, I felt.

“You really are a kind man. But I’m curious. She wanted to experience love, you say? I notice your hand keeps trying to touch your lips. Did something happen?”

At that, everyone tensed. “Well, in the end, we shared a kiss as I held her in my arms.” I admitted. “It was chaste, just a fleeting touch of lips.”

“Wait, you said her last thoughts were of me…” Yukiko-san accused me, and I nodded.

“They were. That… she beat you to a kiss.” I muttered, and Yukiko-san turned scarlet, irritated.

“How rude! In the end… I guess, if she had time to make such jokes… she must have been at peace, or at least not terrified.” Her eyes misted up behind her glasses.

“A kiss? So, our daughter found some morsel of normal happiness in the end? In that case…” her parents exchanged glances.

“Yes.” Tsukiko-san’s mother said, understanding. “As our daughter’s man, I think it is only right for you to assist with the kotsuage.” She handed me some metal chopsticks. “So… if… what you say is true, and one day our daughter lives again, will you… will you and our Tsukiko be together?”

“That’s a good question.” Kudou-san laughed. “He has quite a lot of women, you know…” as we all began ferrying the bones and ashes of Tsukiko’s cremated body into the ceremonial urn, he lightened the sober mood by poking fun at me, horrifying Tsukiko-san’s parents, who he had half-convinced I was some sort of philanderer who had ensnared their daughter. Even Yukiko-san criticised me, at least for a while, until she finally reassured them with a sigh that if Tsukiko-san and I did ever get together, I’d make her happy, just like the others. Well, that was awkward. But… The grim, dour mood of the funeral had lightened a little, so I supposed I could take being the object of their teasing.

The crematorium was largely empty, only us and a pair of monks under Bankei-san remaining for this solemn ceremony for the family, so as we made sure the bones were properly collected, it was only me who could hear a disturbance outside. Soon though Yukiko-san could hear it, and as we were finishing up, the fragments of the skull being gathered by Tsukiko’s mother and father, as was proper, now we all could hear.

“… Chinese out of Japan!”

“… means war! The dead demand justice!”

“… even now, funerals for the dead! How many more until the Government acts!”

“… time for Japan to have a proper army!”

“Protests. What unfortunate timing.” Kudou-san sighed. “Well, it’s understandable, Kyoto has been rocked by the disaster, so there are many who have lost friends, loved ones, people they worked with… even so…” he looked worried for Tsukiko-san’s parents, especially as the noise outside wasn’t diminishing.

“I’ll go handle it.” I said, and Yukiko-san looked at me in surprise. “Well, you can’t, can you?” I smiled slightly. “You’re a bit too famous for that.” At that Tsukiko-san’s parents seemed confused, as if trying to place her.

“Are you sure? They’ll get bored and go elsewhere soon enough, and I believe you’re trying to keep a low profile, Akio-kun.” Kudou-san suggested.

“Well, I’m hardly going to draw too much attention to myself. But I won’t have Tsukiko-san’s funeral marred by these damn protests. Not when she fought so hard.” With that I strode outside the crematorium, to where perhaps two or three thousand locals had gathered, as well as a small Kyoto TV crew that was covering the march. On seeing me the crowd continued their chants. Right, that’s it. I’m pretty annoyed, and if I’ve learned one thing from Hinata and the mess with the nobility, it’s nothing good comes from backing down and accepting things too easily.

“Excuse me.” I called loudly to the mob. “We’re having a funeral here, and you’re disrupting it. I understand your right to protest, but can you do it elsewhere? That’s only good manners.”

“Good manners!” A man, roughly the same age as my father, stepped out of the crowd, seeming to be the leader. “Was it good manners when the Chinese invaded our shores unopposed and killed nearly a thousand of our citizens? Was it?” he spat, eyes bulging, and others in the crowd agreed with him, while the camera crew continued to film.

“Oh, so you want to abandon what makes us Japanese because of that then?” I said, keeping my tone polite, but there was a hint of ice and steel within. “I’m Japanese, I understand the anger, the frustration, the need for justice…” More than you know or could understand. “… but can’t you understand, the grief you feel is the grief we all feel, the grief the parents who lost their only daughter within here feel. Please don’t make it any worse.” I addressed the mob, my Charm and Majesty shining, reinforced by a little League.

The man faltered, as did the mob, falling silent for a moment, before the chants started up again, though they were more sporadic. As the leader looked confused, the crew came over, the reporter, a young man perhaps my age, with shaggy brown hair and black-framed glasses, held out a microphone to me. “Excuse me, may I ask you a few questions? For the viewers here in Kyoto.” He looked at the leader of the march, who nodded.

“That depends. Like I said, I’m at a funeral…”

“I won’t detain you long. You were right to chide us for our bad manners. But even so, the anger of the people is just. So, this funeral… it seems early, but… is it one of the dead from these two incidents of blatant Chinese aggression and warmongering?”

Leading question much? Well, damn, he’s got good instincts. “As it happens, yes it is.”

“I see. You mentioned a daughter. Not yours, I’m assuming? So, was she a friend, a lover, something else?”

“A very dear friend, who didn’t deserve to die the way she did.” I affirmed. “So please don’t pry, give the family some time to grieve and move this march on.” At my words, Charm and Majesty strongly urging them to listen, some on the fringes began to move away in small groups.

“No, we understand.” The reporter gestured to the leader of the protest march for patience, and I realised the reporters here were the true driving force. Trying to get a scoop at the expense of the people’s anger and emotions. Not cool.

“But… don’t you feel angry… sorry, I didn’t catch your name, sir.” He persisted.

“My name isn’t relevant.” I shrugged. “Of course I’m angry and sad, and grieving.”

“Well then, aren’t you ashamed of the pathetic response of our Government, clearly scared of the Chinese, despite them not once, but if rumours are to be believed, twice, causing a tragedy, and the government even tried to cover up this with laughable lies about a suicide cult.” He pressed me triumphantly. “Your precious friend is killed, and not only has China not even accepted responsibility, their response is threatening and mocking! Doesn’t your heart cry out for justice against those that killed your cherished friend?”

My fists clenched at that. Damn right I want justice against that fucking golden-eyed piece of shit. All I did was destroy a clone, sure I probably hurt it a bit with that, but… well, next time I will destroy it. And not just for Tsukiko-san, but Yukiko-san too. Well, I guess Shiro will be helping me, if Tsukiko-san was right. Well, I’m sure she is…

“I do. But…” I let a little more League leak out. Unsealing my full presence against a mob of ordinary people like this wasn’t wise, but I wanted them to be overwhelmed by me. “… the Government should be given time to formulate a response. If we act hastily… the last thing we want is war, imagine it. Bombs falling on our cities again, the numbers of the dead dwarfing the deaths here. Children orphaned, widows wailing, brothers clutching their dying sisters…” Ugh, too real an image, it makes me angry.

“So you say we should do nothing, let China get away with it?” The reporter said triumphantly, though he was sweating a bit as my words hammered into him. “Then what about the next time, and the time after? War might come whether we want it or not…”

“No. I have faith in the Government, that the Prime Minister will keep a cool head. And that the Opposition won’t play politics on this, putting gain above lives.” I wonder if they’ll see this interview. They’d be shocked, I bet. Well, it’s a local Kyoto TV station, so I doubt it. “I understand why you want to strike back. The girl here, Tsukiko-san…” I said her name, wanting to affirm she was herself, had existed. “… she didn’t want to die, but in the end, she fought bravely… so I’m told.” I added, since obviously I wouldn’t have been here to see it. “Perhaps some survived who otherwise wouldn’t, due to her actions, and the actions of the others who also died heroically. I would ask you all this…” I flexed my League, and for a moment everyone was captured, looking at me intently. “… don’t be hasty, don’t put their bravery, Tsukiko-san’s bravery, to shame, throwing mud on their deaths. Trust me, vengeance is coming, justice is coming, but it can’t be at the cost of more lives, more happiness. I don’t want anyone else to feel the grief I feel, that the others who lost people feel.”

“Well… uh, well said.” The reporter was rather flummoxed. “So, do… you have any ideas of what you’d like to happen, if not an aggressive response to China?”

“I’d like the Government to be calm, measured, think things through. The thing about justice is, it needs to be just. It won’t be served by being reckless and risking the lives of our citizens and soldiers. And revenge… well, there’s a saying in the West. It’s a dish best served cold.”

“I see. But not everyone feels that way. They want to see action now.” he gestured, and the remaining crowd, which had shrunk noticeably, shouted their agreement.

“I understand that. Obviously the quicker we seek redress, justice, the better. But I…” I drew their attention again. “… am not prepared to lose anything else in exchange, see any more grief. So please. By all means, show your anger, but… let the experts do their thing, search for the best outcome. It’s only been a few days. Give the Government time, and I’m sure they can take action that will satisfy you. They’d better.” I said firmly, getting a few laughs from the mob.

“I see. Well, it’s been refreshing to get a perspective from someone who has suffered loss from the invasion.” The reporter said, a bit overwhelmed by my stat-boosted charisma. “So…”

“If you could move on now, please?” I asked the remaining protesters. “I want to escort the grieving parents out, they don’t want to see this.”

“Well, that’s understandable.” The leader of the protesters said. “Sorry about this. You’re one of us, you understand. I… well, maybe we can give the Government a chance. But it’s so… frustrating.”

“I get it.” I clapped him on the back, despite being irritated at their protests and attitudes. Well, they don’t know what’s really going on. Tempers are running hot and high, but they’ll cool. We just have to keep the protests in check until they burn themselves out. “I’m sorely frustrated too. But… we need to stand together. If we show China weakness like political unrest, that won’t be good, right? We need to be united, a monolith. That way, they’ll think twice about further strife.”

“You make a good point.” The reporter said, capturing that footage. The march was breaking up, and as the people left, the reporter handed me his card. “If you ever want to do an interview, or talk more about it, give me a call. You’re quite the eloquent speaker.” He grinned then. “I was planning to film the protesters all day, but this is more of a story. You single-handedly dispersed them.”

Damn, this guy is a bit of a snake, no, that’s an insult to Shirohebi. “Well, normally my public speaking skills are a bit on the poor side.” I smiled. “But I’ve been doing more and more recently, so I had to improve eventually. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I gestured to the crematorium. “I’d like their privacy respected.”

As the camera crew left, I headed back inside, shaking my head. These protests are still small, with only a few incidents. I just hope nothing else happens to spark off further trouble…

********

“Thanks for your hard work.” Yukiko-san said, clinking her glass against mine in the small izakaya-style bar we had found in a quiet corner of Kyoto. “I couldn’t leave with a camera crew out there. It’d be very problematic.”

“No kidding. Princess Mikasa at a funeral for the Kyoto dead. I mean, I’m sure it’d touch the hearts of the nation, but it might lead to questions as to why that small funeral.” I took a sip of my sake, feeling the pleasant burn of the alcohol.

“Well, my heart was touched.” She muttered, sipping her own drink. “Thanks. I’m sure Tsukiko would have been happy you were there, and the things you said. I’m certainly happy about it.”

“Well, her parents, they have hope now. I’m surprised how readily they believed it, though perhaps I shouldn’t be, considering who their daughter is.”

“Not just her. Me too. I… I don’t want to live in a world without her. Where she never gets a chance to be rewarded for all her good deeds. She’s supported me long before I was blessed by Amaterasu, since I was just the Priestess of Ise. Without her, I’d have struggled. I’m not outgoing, you know…”

“Really? You seem to be talkative enough with me.”

“I am, aren’t I?” she said, surprised, pushing up her red-framed glasses idly with one finger, appraising me with her brown eyes. “Well, I guess it’s probably because we were both friends with Tsukiko, although…” she eyed me, one hand toying idly with her brown braid. “… I wonder. No, it doesn’t matter.” She finished her cup of sake, and poured another from the jug. “It’s probably because you’re going to look after me, right? Light, darkness and twilight, and all that nonsense.” She snorted. “Tsukiko didn’t believe it was you she saw who could save me, but… what do you think?”

“I think it doesn’t matter what we think. If you need saving, I’ll help. After all, I’ve already got two princesses in hand, what’s a third?” I smiled, pouring myself more.

“With a fourth to come, right? You’re going to meet Princess Eleanor from the United Kingdom, soon? I wish I was as elegant as her.”

“You’re fine.” I assured her. “But yes, that’s on the agenda, I have to warn her about the dangers that Tsukiko-san foresaw.”

“Well, enough about that. Didn’t you say you had matters to discuss with me? Oh, barman, some snacks please. And another jug, no, make it two!” As she ordered, the funeral clearly weighing heavy on her, as well it might, considering she saw the body of her friend cremated, helped ferry the bones and ashes to the ceremonial urn with her own hands, I nodded.

“Yeah. I think it’s time we established further lines of communication and cooperation, helped each other out.”

“I’m listening.” She said, and I asked her about the Grand Shrine, and what was there. She described the stunning scenery, the rich history, and in the Boundary, the fiery fountains of Amaterasu that lit up the skies. That piqued my interest.

“… are very beautiful, if eerie.” She admitted, animated now she was a little tipsy. “Golden yellow flames just as the sun is, soaring to the sky and cascading down like fountains, yet the droplets of gold aren’t hot. It’s… relaxing.”

“Well, I’d like to organise some … cultural exchange.” I grinned, and as she tilted her head questioningly, I continued. “A source of fire element like that… we’ve been making do with what Shaeula and I can spare, but ideally I’d like to send some trainees down to learn, and also we can fill up some batteries…” I planned. “Oh, of course, I’d be happy to exchange for elements we possess, like wind and water.”

“I see. Well, not really, but… does that mean I’d have visitors at the shrine?”

“Yes, and in exchange you could visit my Territory. I can help you level up and optimise your skills. Maybe give you some new equipment as well.”

“I still have that armour you made for me. Isn’t that enough?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“For now, maybe. But that slimy clone was strong. And I’m not convinced what worked last time will work again. So we need to prepare, work together. Hey, that’s a thought… are you leaving Kyoto tonight?”

She gave me a flat, troubled look. “I was planning too, though I’m on a leave of absence from University at the moment. Why?”

“It just so happens I’m meeting my friends here in Kyoto Boundary for some exploration and levelling up. It might be a good chance for me to see you in action, offer some pointers. It’ll be beneficial, I promise.”

For a long moment she looked at me, considering, her eyes wary, before she sighed. “Fine.” She finished another cup, pouring some more out. “I trust you, I suppose. Considering what you did for Tsukiko. Well, a toast then. To… training?”

“To training!” I grinned, clinking our cups together, before I downed the sake…