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Her performance is breathtaking. Akira thinks it is something befitting of Siegfeld. She thinks Michiru would disagree. Yachiyo and Mei Fan, she isn’t sure, but they’d probably side with Michiru. Shiori… would be offended at the notion.
Still, Tamao Tomoe fascinates her, captures her attention in a way that surpasses even Tendo Maya. Granted, for much more personal reasons, yet nonetheless enchanting. Akira is reminded of the mythical Odin the way Tamao is burning herself up, sacrificing herself to be reborn into a new person, to gain more knowledge and power than she had before. It’s a beautiful cycle. An infinite cycle of rebirth is beautiful in its own way, but a dying king cannot be reborn.
Which is something it seems like only Akira comprehends. The Performance Festival has become surprisingly personal, Akira thinks. Everyone dying for a chance to prove themselves to… who, exactly? To themselves? To others? Akira doesn’t particularly care. The Performance Festival is not her main stage, and while she sometimes struggles with herself, there’s nothing to prove. She is Siegfeld’s king, leading them to a prosperous future, then passing the crown before passing away. A tale as old as time, a tradition set in stone.
Yet, Tamao Tomoe fascinates her. A dying king, an emperor, facing Death herself. It’s almost poetic.
—
Once upon a time, as most fairy tales are told, there was a prosperous kingdom. A king and his council, unique in the way the crown passed dissuaded the ruler from malfeasance, were noble and kind. The Platinum king was cold and harsh but ultimately cared about her kingdom like no other. The Sapphire Chancellor, endless in wisdom, yet so young, supported the king, easing her burden. The Ruby General led the kingdom to victory many times, though somehow managed to keep a heart of gold and connect with the people (and sometimes even her enemies). The Pearl Knight was smug and cunning, traits useful on the battlefield but only served to irritate those above her in the chain of command. Nonetheless, she was reliable like no other. The Jade Sergeant, the King’s beloved Jade Sergeant, was a spitfire that challenged the king’s decisions, who trained future soldiers and defended the kingdom on the front lines with everything she had.
And then, she fell in battle.
The King was inconsolable. She changed. The coldness and harshness had stayed, but the kindness that she had led her kingdom with had gone.
In retrospect, Akira should’ve seen it coming. The General had become more distant. The Knight had taken more of her duties. The Marquis was on edge around her. Even her most loyal Chancellor, one of the few who had ever been honest with her, had given her platitudes. An ultimatum had reached her court: 10 years exile before a return to the throne or permanent banishment.
What was she supposed to do for ten years?
The answer came to her. Quite literally.
“The Platinum King, correct?” Death approaches her. She was swathed in blacks and purples, appropriate for the Grim Reaper. Akira was in an alleyway of some town she didn’t care to learn the name of, the sun’s rays beating down on her.
“Yukishiro Akira. I’m currently nothing more than a traveler and a beggar.” Akira furrows her brow. “I don’t understand why you’re here. I have done nothing to slight you, to my knowledge, nor is it my time.”
“An old friend wished to send a message. A Sergeant of yours who bore a Jade?” Death put a finger to her lips, the edges of her mouth curling up into a smile. As if she knew something Akira didn’t. It got on the former king’s nerves.
“Is she doing well? Is she enjoying Valhalla? Did she make it to Valhalla?” Akira stares Death in the eyes, deathly purple versus royal purple.
Death chuckles, but to Akira’s ears, it was more of a grating cackle. “She isn’t in Valhalla. Nor is she anywhere in the afterlife.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve cursed her.”
“She chose that willingly.”
The stinging in Akira’s hand didn’t fully register as Akira’s hand slams against the wall of the building, too angry to care about something so insignificant. “She would never.”
“It’s been years.”
“I refuse to believe it.”
“I can take you to her if you’d like.”
“I’ll find her myself.” Akira passes Death, their shoulders bumping. Akira is a dying king— a dying person . One day, Death will come for her for the last time, but right now she lives and breathes. Akira has 10 years to resolve unfinished business.
—
Fumi invites her over for tea sometimes after the island debacle. Not at her apartment; so far Yachiyo’s the only one of the edels to have gone, trailing Fumi from her workplace to her apartment. Akira doesn’t ask to go. Fumi’s always been a private person, and Akira’s respect for Fumi has risen after their confrontation.
Fumi unsurprisingly starts off asking how Shiori is. Akira usually responds with the truth: she’s doing acceptable (outstanding) as our Frau Jade. She’s been working diligently (occasionally overworking) and is amicable (goes to the mall with Yachiyo and Mei Fan, gets groceries with Michiru, and takes Akira on similar tea outings as Fumi does) with all of the other edels. Sometimes Fumi accepts those answers and moves on, but on other days she pushes.
This happens to be one of those days. The few topics where they can talk freely relate to either the stage and the edels, and Fumi hasn’t brought up the stage once today. Her insistence on Shiori’s health grates on Akira's nerves. Shiori can take care of herself, or at least, Akira trusts her to take care of herself. It seems that Fumi doesn’t. Akira hopes her irritation doesn’t show.
You should be concerned over your own practices, Akira says, and it gets Fumi to shut up. Not in the good way where she rolls her eyes, grumbles, and says her own practice is going fine, but in the way her eyes get defensive and she stops speaking entirely. Akira’s touched a nerve, but she’s never been good with words, and so she hesitates to reach out. Your performance with Tomoe was in sync, she adds, almost as an afterthought.
You’re telling me my performance was in sync with Tamao, and yet you’re telling me to be concerned about it, Fumi shoots back.
Akira struggles to put her thoughts into words. It wasn’t dissimilar to your performance in Siegfeld.
Fumi gives her that glare that tells Akira she’s offended the blonde. Fumi’s always been her own greatest critic; Akira’s not surprised she’s taken offense being compared to her past self, her past performances.
The structure of it, Akira elaborates lamely. She’s not sure how to describe without sounding like she’s still hung up on Fumi, that she sees herself reflected in Tamao and how Fumi supports her. She’s made her peace with Fumi’s departure, no matter how much a part of her has lingering regrets. Fumi’s on stage, that’s all that matters to Akira.
The structure of it, Fumi echoes, and somehow it manages to temper her anger. Or, at the very least, redirect it away from Akira. Fumi becomes unreadable, defensive.
Shiori’s fine. She’s stubborn though, takes after you. Working hard, but we’re making sure she’s taking breaks, Akira redirects.
—
The rumors surrounding the death of Yumeoji Fumi isn’t one Akira wants to dwell on, but with Death quite literally looming over her shoulder, it’s a train of thought she can’t stop.
“Fumi’s buried in the Cemetery of Wind.” It’s the first time Akira’s said Fumi’s name in years. It feels odd on her tongue.
“I’m aware. I am Death after all,” the avatar laughs. A bit bitterly, Akira notes.
Death is odd. Her presence is overwhelming, yet Akira feels no fear or dread around her. She takes the guise of a commoner, but her mannerisms clearly denote her as someone important aside from her position. Akira’s tempted to ask for Death’s name. She doesn’t.
“She died in battle.” Akira recites like a mantra. Death raises a brow.
“Did she, now?”
“She died in battle,” Akira repeats. She refuses to believe the unreliable greedy nobles who slander Fumi’s name, slander Shiori’s by extension. She has to have died in battle. Akira can’t see Fumi going out any other way.
“A battle with herself, perhaps.” Death tries her best to give a noncommittal shrug. It pains her as well, Akira realizes. Death was a human once too. The more Akira dwells on that thought, the more the similarities between her and Shiori she sees.
“She won,” is the only thing Akira can say in response.
“And she didn’t,” Death adds with a slight smile. “She’s quite the oxymoron, isn’t she?”
—
Rinmeikan is something to behold.
It’s a classic underdog story. A band of four misfits with little to no proper training meets a staunch loner, who joins their cause in trying to revive their department. The five of them put their lives on the line for even the chance to get their department back. Akira respects them.
Though, it seems like Akikaze Rui doesn’t seem to reciprocate the feeling.
Y-Yukishiro-san, she stutters, giving a nervous glare to Akira. She didn’t know glares could be so... paradoxical.
The emperor has a fight scene, Akira states. She hopes she doesn’t come off as awkward as she feels.
Akikaze looks like a caught fawn.
Siegfeld doesn’t do much practical training with fight scenes, Akira elaborates. Rarely will any of the Edels actually enact a fight on stage (a fact which Yachiyo complains about every other week). Fumi once told her about her club’s prodigious kendo practitioner. Akira thinks she’d be a great leader.
Are you… asking for my help, Akikaze asks, staring at her incredulously. Akira hesitates, before giving a small nod. She never really knows how to ask for help. Usually, she’ll just struggle until someone (Michiru, usually, but when it comes to technology, any of the edels) aids her.
Akikaze asks her to wait, before scurrying off to the corner with her fellow underclassman, the one with the red hoodie. Akira is reminded vaguely of Yachiyo, the way they break dress codes (albeit in opposite ways). They talk in hushed whispers and not subtle glances towards Akira before they come to some sort of consensus.
I’d be happy to help, Akikaze gives her a small smile. Yukko’s going to tag along too, though.
Akira doesn’t really blame Akikaze for her cautiousness. She hasn’t exactly been amicable to Rinmeikan. Still, Akira gives a small bow, catching the underclassman off guard. She’s excited to broaden her horizons.
—
At some point, Death leaves. Akira doesn’t care enough to go looking for her. It gets easier to breathe without her around.
She comes across a flower field in her travels, blooming with spider lilies. It’s beautiful in a haunting sort of way, a proper tribute to Death. And indeed, Akira can feel her influence here still. There’s a scorched mark in the center where nothing’s grown back, an unvarying deadzone.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” A voice spoke up from being Akira.
“I can.” Akira nods, turning around to face this new person. “Did she ask you to watch me in her place?”
“Not at all. In fact, we hadn’t known of your existence ‘till recently. Tamao’s oddly secretive about the strangest things.” The girl shrugs, her red scarf billowing in the wing.
“Then, why are you here?” Akira asks, ignoring Death’s true name. It feels odd to humanize something like death compared to other aspects like the moon.
“Well, I was hoping to have a small chat. Name’s Tanaka Yuyuko, by the way.”
Akira stays silent. She’s sure this girl is one of Death’s acolytes, and so she must know her name already.
“Nothing? Oh well, can’t blame you for being wary.” Yuyuko chuckles, stepping forward into the field. “Walk with me. Don’t worry about the flowers, they’re tough.”
“Alright.” Akira nods, though she’s still careful around the flowers. “Where is Death, anyway?”
Yuyuko purses her lips. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“That’s what I said.” Yuyuko turns away, her voice and body language the only indicator of emotion Akira had now. “She vanished a while ago, and we don’t know where she went. Figured you’d have some sort of idea, actually.”
“The last time I saw her was a fortnight ago.” Akira shook her head. “Who’s this ‘we’ you keep talking about?”
“The other retainers and I. Well, just myself and Rui, Ichie technically isn’t one.” Yuyuko ran her fingers through her hair. “God, I really hope I’m wrong.”
“Wrong?” Akira felt so lost. She was nothing more than a disgraced king exiled from her kingdom dealing with things out of her control. She wishes she had the guidance of her chancellor, of her knight, of her general, of her marquis, and of her precious sergeant. What might they say to her now?
“Death has four retainers like your council,” Yuyuko explains. “Rui, Ichie, and myself, as well as a fourth. I’m concerned they’re together since she’s… concerningly loyal to Tamao.” Yuyuko gives Akira a sad look before it hits her.
“No…”
—
Akikaze and Tanaka are strong, Akira notes. In many ways, they remind her of her own juniors. Rinmeikan will be fine in their hands. She wonders why Fumi is so concerned.
Fumi-senpai’s always worrying about us. Her and Tamao-senpai both, Yuyuko sighs, and it almost concerns Akira how clearly Tanaka is able to read her. Hopefully Ichie-senpai knocks some sense into the two.
Truthfully, she hasn’t kept an eye on Otonashi as much as she should, but Fumi’s talked about her endlessly (mostly about how much of a pest she is, cue eyes rolling with a small smile). She’s been good for Fumi, which makes Akira more inclined to be cordial with her. She hopes that Otonashi helps Fumi come to her senses as well.
She’s surprised to see the two underclassmen not interfering, though. This is their department to inherit, so she figured that the two would continue to fight tooth and nail for it. Her question is returned with a small sigh and a shrug.
Ultimately, Tanaka and Akikaze have time. They’re secure in the knowledge that whatever happens, they’ll still be there for the department. The upperclassmen have no such guarantee. In a way, the upperclassmen of Rinmeikan are in a lose-lose situation. Either way, they will have to leave. They’re just hoping to leave it better than they found it.
It’s a thought process Akira can respect. She herself has no idea what will come after her reign, after she’s succeeded by Yachiyo and Mei Fan and Shiori, after Elysion. Her only comfort is that Michiru, her closest confidant, will be with her every step of the way. She thinks that might be why Tomoe holds Fumi close to her.
I’ll do what I can, Akira gives a rare genuine smile. It catches the other two off guard. Akira will blind the others with her brilliance. She’s thrilled to see what will come from the two. Animals backed into a corner will fight fiercely. Akira wants to see what Rinmeikan, at their most desperate, can do.
—
Akira travels with Yuyuko and Rui to find Death, Ichie having gone her own way to find Fumi. It’s a slow process, finding someone with a trail of breadcrumbs. Death is masking herself. She doesn’t want to be found. A group of four split up into three and one to find two people seems disproportionate, and Akira says as much.
“Fumi’s easier to track down, and Ichie knows her like the back of her hand,” Rui says, eating her leftover rations from yesterday. This is the first time Rui’s spoken since they’ve left Ryugu, a quaint little seaside town. “Plus, she might not take kindly to you.”
The words hurt, but Akira’s not surprised. A couple years away from her kingdom and seeing how the rest of the world functioned has changed her. She will take this back with her to her kingdom, regardless of whether or not she sits on the throne. “I suppose that’s reasonable. Why don’t one of you tag along with her though?”
Yuyuko blows lightly on the pile of leaves, wisps of smoke greeting her, before turning to Akira. “Me and Rui… I guess I wouldn’t call it a mistake, but we tried to separate her from her powers. For a lot of reasons, really, but first and foremost… she’s abusing her powers for our sakes, for her retainers.”
“The two of us are taking up her power,” Rui states as if she was calling the sky blue and the grass green. “A long, long time ago, I’d made a contract with the devil with Yukko’s help, and Tamao’s been fighting tooth and nail to break it for me. Yukko…”
“I helped Rui make that contract at the cost of my life,” Yuyuko continues after Rui lost the confidence to speak. “I already had the ability to see ghosts when I was little. It wasn’t any surprise that I got sick.”
“All this to say, we shouldn’t be here. We should be resting, but Tamao’s been keeping us alive by not taking our souls. It takes a toll on her, to resist the natural balance, and that means to keep us alive, others’ lives have to be taken in return. We tried to stop her, but we weren’t strong enough. It backfired, linking the two of us.” Rui takes a small knife, pricking her index finger. A bead of blood forms on her finger. Yuyuko holds up her hand, showing an identical drop of blood. “I couldn’t leave Yukko if I tried.”
“And she tried.” Yuyuko laughs, lightening the mood. “Believe me, she tried.”
—
Akira tries to get the movements right, but Tamao distracts her. Not in a way most people would think of, but Tomoe insists on pushing forward without breaks or slowing down, and it’s disorienting.
We need to get in sync, Akira says, pausing the music. Tamao pouts , of all things.
We can make a lot more progress if we ran through the scene fully though, Tamao argues, though she’s exhausted as well. Without the support of Fumi, she seems less like the intimidating Death on stage and more like a human. A king doing her best for her subjects.
Akira shakes her head. Tamao’s too caught up in her role and the scene that she’s neglecting her partner. It won’t help, Akira replies. We need to get this one scene right before we move onto the next.
You sound like Fumi, Tamao shakes her head, resigned. Tamao’s stubborn, but Akira even more so. Akira takes that as a compliment. Fumi’s work ethic is nothing if not thorough.
They run through the scene again. It almost feels like Elysion, in a way. The Emperor, staving off death for as long as possible. Except in the Performance Festival, the Emperor is very much still alive and stubbornly fighting tooth and nail because if he fails, if he dies, then everything he stood for will have been wrong, will have been all for nothing.
Akira gets an epiphany.
They switch roles this one time. The Emperor and Death arcanas aren’t connected, but for some reason, the reversed roles are oddly fitting. They switch back.
Tamao thanks Akira for the fruitful practice. Akira only nods in response.