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“Well, it sounds like you have a lot of work to do,” Lumine said, bowing her head in respect. “We’ll let you get to it.”
“Yeah!” Paimon said, “and after all that jumping and skipping through time, Paimon’s famished! We’re gonna go find some of that fried tofu Yae Miko mentioned!”
Ei smiled, and bowed her head. “Thank you again, Lumine and Paimon. Truly, I am eternally grateful for your aid. Please, I hope you will not hesitate to call on me. I should be available far more often now.”
Lumine and Paimon waved, and turned towards the path leading down Mt. Yougou. As they left, Yae Miko could just barely make out a faint “Paimon, what do you mean, ‘jumping and skipping?’ You float.”
Yae Miko gave a small wave at their backs and smiled. The pair were certainly capable allies, and for all that she would always maintain to anyone who asked that the situation had always been under control, she too was immensely grateful to them. They had brought Ei back to her.
“Are they gone?” Ei asked, her head still bowed.
Yae Miko waited a few seconds until Paimon’s bobbing form had vanished around the bend before replying. “The Traveler and Paimon? Yes, they are safely out of sight.”
Ei sighed. “Thank goodness,” she said, and crumpled onto the flagstones of the Grand Narukami Shrine.
Panic seized Miko’s heart once more. “Shrine Maidens!” she cried, as she knelt next to Ei. “Come help!”
As several shrine maidens rushed over, Miko felt for a pulse. Still alive. Her breath was shallow, though. Miko gently patted Ei’s body, looking for obvious signs of serious injury. Nothing–or at least, nothing obvious. There were a few more cuts than Miko had previously noticed, and some scars that were new since Miko had last seen Ei–she was clearly in worse shape than she had let on, but these wounds seemed nonetheless superficial.
“Come, help me lift her,” Miko said urgently to one of the shrine maidens. She slipped her hands under Ei’s shoulders, and gestured for the shrine maiden to help with the Raiden’s feet.
“Miko….” Ei murmured, stirring gently in Miko’s arms.
“Ei–Ei, I’m here,” Miko said quietly. “You fell–are you okay; are you hurt?”
A faint smile played at the corners of Ei’s mouth. “I–I’m okay. ‘M…very tired….”
Miko nodded. “Centuries of fighting will do that to you, you know. Why don’t we get you to the Shrine’s bathhouse; the hot water will ease your muscles, and we can get some of those wounds cleaned,” she suggested.
Ei nodded weakly. Yae Miko looked up sharply at the shrine maiden at Ei’s feet. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she snapped. “Forget her feet; help the Raiden stand, and take her other shoulder. We’ll walk her over to the bathhouse.”
The other maiden bowed her head and quickly came around to Ei’s other shoulder, and together the two of them helped Ei to her feet. The walk to the bathhouse was short, but even with the help of the other maidens, Miko was glad for the opportunity to lean Ei against the wall as she fumbled for the bathhouse door. Ei was significantly taller than either Miko or the other shrine maiden, and when she was barely supporting herself on her own two feet, quite heavy.
Yae Miko and the young shrine maiden guided Ei over to the edge of the bath. The bathhouse had a relatively simple interior–smooth-paneled wooden floors, heated by the hot water pipes that fed the bath, and a large circular bath lined with bamboo, set into the floor. A broad bamboo shelf across the wall of the basin served as a seat. It was certainly nothing compared to the extravagant baths of Tenshukaku, with ornate carved wood, smooth marble basins, and comfortable seating. Or even the Aisa Bathhouse in Inazuma City. But the bath at the Grand Narukami Shrine was not meant for the ruler of Inazuma and her visiting dignitaries, either, and nor was it a luxurious spa for paying customers–it was merely a place for the shrine maidens to bathe. But it would do for now, and it had that most precious quality in a moment like this–privacy. None save the shrine maidens needed to see the Raiden in this state.
“Alright, Ei,” Miko said, as she crouched and began to gingerly untie the sashes holding Ei’s robes in place. She gestured for the other shrine maiden to remove Ei’s sandals and tights. She began peeling back the layers of fabric, and paused. “Scratch that,” she said to the shrine maiden. “I will take care of Her Excellency’s footwear. You will go to Tenshukaku, and fetch another one of the Raiden’s outfits. Perhaps the robe she uses when she wishes to lounge; you know the one.”
The shrine maiden looked up at Yae Miko, puzzled. Miko lifted up the end of a sash for the other her to see–it was caked in old blood. The colour briefly drained from her face, and she rose quickly and hurried out of the bathhouse.
“‘m sorry, Miko,” Ei murmured. “I seem to have….bled a bit, I guess….”
“Hush,” Miko soothed. “We’ll have that taken care of. Now, let’s see…” She gently set aside the purple sashes. The pale lavender robes beneath lay plastered against Ei’s skin, stained with sweat and blood, and slick with moisture. They were torn in several places–in some spots, cleanly-cut gashes in the fabric, and in others ragged holes where seams had given way over the years.
Miko carefully took a corner of fabric in her fingers, and slowly started lifting it away from Ei’s torso. Ei let out a small gasp, and winced in pain. A jolt of worry shot through Miko’s body. “Sorry, sorry!” she whispered.
“It’s alright,” Ei groaned. “I–I can handle it.”
Miko nodded. “Breathe with me,” she said, locking eyes with Ei. She took a deep breath, and Ei did as well. Miko gently but steadily pulled the rest of the robes away, as Ei winced with every newly-exposed wound. Miko sucked her breath in through her teeth–Ei’s chest and abdomen were a latticework of cuts and scars, mottled with bruises.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Ei said, as she lifted herself off the wooden floor with a grunt. “I’ll heal–there must be some benefits to being a god, after all.”
Miko shook her head. “You really needn’t have put yourself in so much danger,” she admonished her. “You could have at least asked for help.”
Ei shook her head, as she gingerly scooted toward the edge of the bath. “You and I both know it had to be done alone. Still, I am grateful, Miko,” she said.
Miko shuffled forward and slipped one arm under Ei’s shoulder and the other under her lower back, and helped Ei ease herself down into the steaming water. Miko lifted Ei’s large braid up and draped it back over the edge. She noticed that the braid had become frazzled, and the hair was matted with grime. And probably with some blood. She would have to help Ei with that later. Ei sank down onto the basin’s benchl, and sighed as the water rose up to her collarbone.
“Thank you, Miko,” she whispered, and tilted her head back against the bamboo.
“I’ll be right back,” Miko said gently. She rose and swiftly padded over to the bathhouse door. She slid the door open just enough to pop her head out. Several of the shrine’s young attendants were standing anxiously around the entrance.
“Her Excellency will be okay,” she said, soothingly. “She has merely had an exceptionally long day, and needs to rest. She has, however, suffered a few minor injuries in the day’s training activities. Nothing major, of course, but we want to take care of her as best we can, don’t we? You understand, hmm?”
The shrine maiden nearest the door nodded. “Of course, Guuji Yae. I’ll fetch the healing herbs for the bathwater.”
Yae Miko nodded. “That’s a good girl. And you two,” she turned her head to the remaining women, “go down to the Kamisato estate. The Kamisatos owe me a few favors. Have their chef whip up some tricolor dangos, plus a few other desserts….your choice. Or his choice. Oh, and also some fried tofu.” They nodded, and hurried away.
Miko smiled, and closed the door. She collected a small bowl of warm oil from the corner, padded softly back to the bath, and knelt behind Ei.
“Now then,” she said, “would you like me to work some of that stress out of your shoulders?”
“Ohhh,” Ei murmured. “Yes, please.”
Miko dipped her fingers into the oil–it smelled sweetly of jasmine–and leaned forward and gently ran her fingers along Ei’s shoulders, feeling the soft, warm skin under her hands. It had been centuries since she last gave her friend a massage after a battle, and at first it felt strange, and unfamiliar. As she ran her hands along Ei’s shoulder blades, though, it quickly felt much as it had when they were young, before Ei had entered her isolation. She knew the shape of Ei’s collarbone, the way her muscles bunched up like this between her shoulder blades and her spine when she was tensed without realizing it, and the curve up from the shoulders into the neck.
Miko drew her hands up either side of Ei’s neck, running her thumbs along the vertebrae under her braid. Ei sighed happily, as Miko found the base of Ei’s skull, and gently pressed into the firm, tensed knots of muscle.
“That feels good,” Ei murmured.
“Mmm,” Miko hummed. “I’m just getting started.”
She pulled her hands back down Ei’s neck, diving deeper into the muscle with her thumbs, gently drawing the knots away from the bone. When she reached Ei’s shoulders, she pressed in deeper, finding the layers of muscle and moving past them, tracing the outlines of Ei’s spine and shoulder blades. Ei moaned appreciatively, and Miko felt her slacken slightly. A dense knot revealed itself beneath her fingers, and she brushed it with her thumb. Ei gave a small gasp, and stiffened involuntarily.
“Oh shush,” Miko whispered. “Do try to relax.” Ei’s shoulder muscles loosened obligingly, and Miko massaged the area around the dense knot, feeling it grow warmer under her fingers. She focused, finding the spark of electro in her core. She allowed a small, quietly-flaring trickle to flow down her arm and into her fingers as she worked the muscle.
“Ooh, that tingles!” Ei exclaimed, a growing warmth in her voice.
“Hold still,” Miko said. She brought her thumb and forefinger to either side of the knot, and let the current flow from one to the other. Ei gasped sharply as the muscle contracted in spasms. Miko grasped Ei’s other shoulder and held her fingers against the knot as Ei arched her back in the water.
“You mischievous fox!” Ei exclaimed, as Miko let the current ebb and released Ei’s shoulders. Ei turned, and Miko yelped as a splash of water hit her face. Ei laughed, and reached up for Miko’s hand. “I’m sorry, do continue,” she said. “I missed you and your playfulness, and it feels very good.”
Miko smirked. “I missed you too,” she said. “I missed your stubbornness. Now turn around, I have work to do.”
Ei obliged, and Miko dipped her fingers back into the oil and returned to her work.
A few minutes later, a shrine maiden tiptoed in and gently lowered a bundle of herbs into the steaming bath, but Miko hardly noticed. A storm of emotions swirled inside her as she massaged the fragrant oil into Ei’s skin. She felt elated to finally be reunited, truly, as friends and partners. For centuries she’d had to be content with the Raiden Shogun, that dreadful puppet Ei had made. At least Ei’s first puppet had a personality. But while Ei’s true attention had lain in the Plane of Euthymia, Miko had seen only that cold, mirthless husk, barely a shadow of Ei’s true self in Miko’s eyes. At first it had felt like a cruel joke, that she should be reminded of Ei’s presence so frequently, when Ei herself was so unreachable. Over the years she had convinced herself that in Ei’s vision of Eternity, there was no Yae Miko–at least, not at Ei’s side. The most Miko was entitled to was that stupid automaton. It was a slow, deadening heartbreak.
And then Ei had returned, lured out of her solitude by the Traveler and her fairy friend. Miko hadn’t dared hope, at first. Then when Ei didn’t disappear again forever, Miko had begun to hope–until Ei did vanish, and Miko had had to send Lumine and Paimon after her. Now, finally, she felt that it was over–and Ei was back, for good. She felt that a part of herself had finally released a breath it had held for five hundred years. And she felt trepidation–where did she stand with Ei, after all these years? She pushed the intrusive thoughts out of the way, and focused on that sense of relief. She channeled the relief and her affection for Ei into her hands, willing Ei’s muscles to feel that same warm comfort as she ran her hands up Ei’s neck and then back down along her spine. She wanted Ei to feel that she was home–as she, Miko, finally was.
~~~
Ei leaned back slightly as she felt Miko drive her thumbs once more into the muscles lining her collarbone. She could feel her muscles thrumming with the carefully-controlled electro energy flowing from Miko's fingertips–slow, undulating waves that drove tiny contractions and relaxations in her muscles, helping to loosen knots that had hardened over centuries of battle.
Ei rested a hand lightly on her stomach, her finger tracing a long cut that hadn't quite healed. It had stung when she had slipped into the bath, just enough for her to notice through the woozy haze of ache and exhaustion. Now as she touched the wound, she felt the old blood and dust lift gently away in the steaming water of the bath. She gingerly touched a finger to the open part of the wound–there was no pain, the skin soothed by the botanicals the shrine maiden had added to the bath.
Ei sighed. She would heal. She would be okay. She was home, back here with Miko, and she didn't have to fight for her life anymore. At least, not for a while. She could focus on just…living. Living and being the archon she hadn't been, and now wanted to be.
She could hardly believe it. She had spent so long fighting, not allowing her mind to stray from the moment, just striving with each breath to survive, to win, to earn the right to change her mind and plot a new path for Inazuma, knowing the whole time that centuries were passing, that she would not see her friends again. That the Inazuma she would return to would once again be changed, and unfamiliar–but free. And then for Lumine and Paimon to suddenly appear in the final moment, to learn what Makoto had intended for her all these years, to realize that she could have both , that she could free herself, free Inazuma, and not lose that which she fought for deepest in her heart–
The wave of emotion rose in Ei like the unstoppable tide, overwhelming a millennium of defenses. She gasped sharply, tears suddenly flowing down her cheeks in hot rivulets. There was a hard, hollow pit in her chest, and she leaned forward, her shoulders hunched inwards and her hands clutched to her chest as she convulsed with grief.
“Ei?” Miko said softly, the flow of electro coming to a stop as she lifted her hands from Ei’s back. A moment later, Ei felt Miko’s hand on her shoulder. Shaking, she reached up and grasped at Miko’s hand, holding tight as she sobbed uncontrollably. A second hand appeared on her other shoulder and slid around across the front of her collarbone, and Ei felt Miko’s chin on her shoulder and her soft hair against her ear.
“Oh, Miko,” Ei sighed, and took hold of Miko’s arm across her chest and pulled her tight, leaning her head back into Miko’s.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Miko whispered in her ear. “I’m here; you’re safe.”
Ei sniffled loudly, trying not to drip snot on Miko’s arm, even as she knew her tears were falling onto Miko’s sleeve.
“Hang on, give me one second; you’re going to get my robes wet,” Ei heard Miko mutter, and then Miko drew away, pulling her arms out of Ei’s grasp. The cold loneliness of Miko’s absence hit Ei, and she curled her hands around themselves, feeling her own grasp on herself–the only grasp she had known for so many centuries. There was a sound of rustling fabric behind her, and then a slender leg slipped into the water at Ei’s side, followed by a second leg at her other side.
“Scoot forward, you,” Miko said behind her, placing two firm hands on Ei’s shoulders as she lowered herself in.
Ei shifted forward on the bamboo bench. Miko settled in behind her and hugged her tightly, her legs tight around Ei’s hips and her arms firmly but gently wrapped around Ei’s chest and abdomen. Miko rested her head once more on Ei’s shoulder, and Ei leaned back into the warmth of Miko’s soft skin against her back. Her hands found Miko’s once more, and she held tight to her friend’s embrace, her tears flowing once more with each shuddering breath.
Miko simply held her close, her toes gently stroking Ei’s calves as they sat in the hot water of the bath.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Miko asked quietly in Ei’s ear.
Ei sighed, and took a deep breath. “There’s just so much,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t–I didn’t think–” her voice caught in her throat.
“Shh, deep breaths,” Miko urged.
Ei inhaled deeply, and felt Miko’s own chest expand behind her in synchrony. She exhaled slowly, feeling Miko exhale as well. Miko gently massaged the pectoral muscle beneath the hand on Ei’s chest as they breathed together. Ei tried again.
“I didn’t think I would return,” she said softly. “Not to this.”
“You didn’t think I’d let you just skip out on me like that, did you?” Miko asked. “You already abandoned me for half a millennium; I was getting fed up. Good thing those two showed up, or I’d have had to go after you myself.”
Ei smiled, and sniffled. “It’s also…I spent so long fighting. When I was contemplating eternity alone, I was fighting to prevent what took Makoto from me from ever happening again. And then I was fighting the Shogun to finally actually honor Makoto’s memory, and chart a new path–both for Inazuma and for myself. But the whole time…I really didn’t know anything about what Makoto wanted, did I? I never really stopped to consider what it was Makoto loved about transience, and why she loved it. And that whole time, she was waiting for me….”
“Hmm,” Miko murmured. “You were a little trapped in your own head, yes. Some might even say oblivious.”
“Oblivious?” Ei asked, surprised.
“Not me, of course,” Miko said quickly. “But you can’t deny you spent a long time with your own thoughts. You need other people’s thoughts, too.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn,” Ei said. “You’d think being an Archon would come with more wisdom, or a manual or guide.”
“I can suggest a few light novels imagining what it’s like to be a young Archon.”
Ei chuckled. “That might be fun,” she said. “I’d like to see what it is you like so much about these light novels.”
Miko pulled back slightly from Ei, extricated her arms from Ei’s grasp, and began gently undoing Ei’s braid, which had fallen into the bath. “Like I said,” she replied, “you need other people’s thoughts. You’d be surprised at the wisdom people sometimes put into light novels.” She pulled the last strands of the braid free, and ran her fingers through Ei’s hair, gently massaging her scalp.
“I guess I also just….I thought if I was the Archon, that meant I was fit for the job,” Ei said. “I had spent so long shadowing Makoto, I knew the routine, but the decisions themselves turned out to be so much harder.”
Miko snorted. “If they only gave these jobs to people who were qualified, I wouldn’t have become the Guuji,” she said.
Ei frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Do you remember why I became the Guuji?” Miko asked, as she began working the mats of dried blood and dust out of Ei’s hair. “People assume it was because I was the best shrine maiden, or succeeded in some contest.”
Ei thought back to the Yae Miko she had known back then, some five hundred years hence, and a millennium ago in her own memories. She recalled a young, impulsive kitsune. She had always had a touch of irreverence, and certainly would not have won any contests for being the “best” shrine maiden. The Kitsune Saiguu had been the Guuji, then–before so many had perished in the Cataclysm. She had returned from Khaenri’ah, burdened with her own sorrow, to an Inazuma blanketed in the darkness of the Abyss. She had charged into the breach once more, pushing back the Abyss with each thrust of her spear in a swirling storm of rage and grief. So, so many whom she had left behind in Inazuma were already gone.
But Yae Miko had been there–standing behind her as the rifthound Ei had missed crumbled to ash and dust beneath a heavy bolt of lightning, her trembling kitsune ears slicked back against her head as she held forth a hastily-carved wand of sakura wood. She remembered how despite the danger, despite all the death and destruction that had befallen Ei’s loyal comrades from Mt. Yougou, Yae Miko had followed her into the darkness.
“You survived the war…” Ei whispered.
“You forget that Asase Hibiki survived too,” Miko chided, tugging at a stubbornly-matted knot of hair. “Hibiki took over the shrine when Saiguu died, not me. I became Guuji when Hibiki shot a man and left for that backwater island that caused so much trouble.”
“I really did miss a lot, didn’t I…” Ei murmured.
“The point is I became Guuji because there was nobody else sufficiently-trained to even hope to run the place,” Miko continued. “I certainly wasn’t competent. So I changed the rules, so it wouldn’t matter.”
Ei chuckled. “That does sound like you, Miko,” she said. “Always doing things your way.”
“You can do things your way, too,” Miko whispered in her ear. “You are after all the archon. Your first idea was, hmm, needing some revisions, but you don’t need to try to become Makoto. She was her own woman, with her own ideas. She was a good archon because she was true to her ideals. You’ll always be one step behind if you’re always trying to be her.”
“I guess you’re right,” Ei said. “I don’t really know who I want to be, though.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Miko finished working the mats out of Ei’s hair at the same time that the bathhouse door creaked open, and a young shrine maiden tiptoed in and set a large plate down next to the bath. Ei looked over–the plate was piled on one side with fried tofu (one piece of which was already en route to Miko’s mouth), and on the other with skewers of tricolor dango, berry mizu manjuu, and sakura mochi. Ei gasped.
“Eat up,” Miko said, muffled by the sound of tofu in her mouth. “You need to regain your strength.”
Ei laughed, tears once more streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, Miko,” she said. She turned in the bath and gave Miko a swift kiss on the cheek, before lunging for the sweets.
~
Ei chewed thoughtfully on the delightfully airy dango, replaying some of the day’s events in her head as Miko worked the knots in her back once more, her warm hands massaging Ei’s lower back. She frowned as she remembered one of Lumine’s questions.
“Miko,” she asked, swallowing the last of the dango and reaching for another skewer. “Why did Lumine start to say something about you calling me your god? And why did you stop her?”
Miko’s hands froze on Ei’s back.
“Miko? Did I say something wrong” Ei asked, swallowing the rest of the dango.
Miko’s hands began massaging Ei’s shoulders once more, though now with a mechanical, absent-minded rhythm. “No, no, it’s fine. Honestly, I don’t know what that girl and her fairy friend get up to that they get such ideas. It was, it was simply unbecoming, is all,” she said. Her voice sounded tight, strained. “Pay no attention to their antics.” The rhythm of Miko’s thumbs quickened and she worked Ei’s shoulders with an increased intensity as she lapsed into silence.
“Miko….” Ei reached down and gently stroked Miko’s leg along her left thigh. “You know I can tell you’re hiding something.”
Miko sighed behind her, and her hands slackened and drifted down Ei’s back. Ei felt Miko’s hot breath on her back a moment later, as Miko’s head bonked against her spine. She felt rather than heard Miko mumble something into her skin.
“Miko, dear, I can’t hear you through my spine,” Ei chided gently.
“You matter to me,” Miko said, timidly in a still-quiet voice.
Well–of course, Ei thought. She knew that. She frowned. Why would that be a source of distress for Miko? She turned on the edge of the bench, one reassuring hand still on Miko’s leg.
Miko sat in the chin-deep water, fox ears slicked back and her hands clasped over her mouth. Her face was beet red.
Ei took Miko’s hands in her own. “Miko, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Did you think that was a secret?”
“Hardly, it’s just that–”
“You’ve been massaging me and feeding me treats; I wouldn’t expect that from someone who didn’t care about me,” Ei continued.
“--Ei, please!” Miko blurted, grasping Ei’s forearms. “Please, just—you don’t know how hard this is. Seeing you, having you finally back after all these years,” she explained.
Ei furrowed her brow in confusion. She felt her own ears growing hot, as questions swirled. What did Miko mean? Hadn’t she just said that Ei mattered to her? Leaving the Plane of Euthymia behind for good, returning to Miko, she had finally felt that she had come home. Did Miko not want her here? Ei supposed that it had after all been centuries that they’d been apart. Yae Miko had plenty of time to get used to the absence, and get comfortable in routines that didn’t include Ei. Perhaps Ei’s return was a burden….
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought you were glad to have me back.”
Miko’s wide eyes met hers. “Ei, I am, but—are you glad to be back? To be here?”
“Well, of course; I missed Inazuma–”
“ No, Ei—with me,” Miko urged. “I spent centuries missing you, doing everything I could to safeguard Inazuma, both from outside threats and from that bumbling puppet’s missteps, without risking the Shrine. So that maybe one day you would return. To me. Ei, you matter to me. But do I matter to you?”
The question hung heavy in the air.
“Of–of course,” Ei stammed. “You matter a great deal to me. You are my closest, oldest friend. Honestly, Miko, I wouldn’t be here without you; you know I’m grateful–”
Miko shook her head. “No, Ei,” she whispered, drawing her legs up and clasping them in front of her chest. “You don’t get it.”
“Help me understand, then!” Ei said, exasperated. She took a step backward into the center of the bath, giving Miko space. “I know I was gone and a lot changed, and maybe I’m not as good at relating to people as I once was after a thousand years alone, but I want to understand. I want to be here, Miko. With you! Why are you acting like this?”
Miko squeezed her eyes shut. “When we were young,” she began, “and the darkness came, I thought everything was lost. You left to find Makoto. The others died, or vanished. I was one of the only ones left, and the forces of the Abyss ravaged Inazuma. And then you came back, so full of your grief and pain, but with the power and rage of a god. So I followed you, into the darkness, to make sure you would come back. Because Inazuma needed you. And I needed you. And I thought that maybe you needed me too—a friend who saw the pain you were in, and could care for you.
“I would have done anything for you. Gone into the Abyss again. Cooked you all the sweets. Or paid someone else to, at any rate. Anything, because you were the warrior in the shining light. Because you made me laugh, even before everything fell apart. Because you were you.
“And then, after you beat back the darkness, and the war was over, you started experimenting, and made that puppet, gave me your Gnosis, and then–poof!--you were gone, into your own head. For five hundred years , Ei. I know time is nothing to a god who dreams of eternity, but those years were their own kind of eternity to a lonely kitsune who just wanted her friend.
“I never moved on, Ei. I never stopped waiting, hoping for you to come back. I did the only thing I could–I devoted myself to you as the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine. Not to your silly government ruled by the Shogun, with all the silly rules and soldiers and all that nonsense. To you –as the woman who saved Inazuma, to whom the Sacred Sakura was linked.”
Miko paused.
“That’s why Lumine said–” Ei whispered, realization slowly starting to dawn.
“I was desperate, Ei,” Miko whispered, her voice trembling. She opened her eyes and looked up at Ei, tears rolling from the corners of her eyes. “You came back, and then you were gone again, to fight a machine you yourself designed to be nearly unbeatable. And for who knows how long. I wasn’t about to lose you for another five hundred years. I can’t. I can’t lose you. Not again. Not you, not the person I am most devoted to in the world–not the person I love.”
Something slowly clicked into place deep in the recesses of Ei’s brain. Oh.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh I’ve been such a fool.”
“Do you get it now?” Miko whispered back. “There was no room for me in your eternity, at least that was how it seemed. Now you’ve come back, and I’m here–how could I not be here for you? But are you really here this time? Am I part of the world you’ve returned to?”
Ei understood, and she felt that hollow pit of grief ball up once more in her chest. She nodded.
“Yes,” she said, as her own tears started to flow. “Yes, of course.”
Ei had spent a thousand years fighting. She had thought that she was fighting for Inazuma, for the people she loved, for Makoto. She had held her dying sister in her arms, felt the life slip out of her like a faint, all-too-brief scent of sakura blossoms on a transient breeze. She had felt the desperation in her heart as she begged and pleaded for just one more moment with Makoto, and the immeasurable loss of a time together that had been all too transient–and it had only strengthened her yearning for eternity. Transience had taken Makoto from her, and she had refused to lose again.
But in this kitsune before her trembling with grief and ancient pain, she saw that same desperation. In Ei’s desperate pursuit of eternity, she herself had slipped out of Miko’s grasp in much the same way that Makoto had slipped out of hers–and she had caused the same pain she had been trying to avoid. She hadn’t been fighting for everyone else after all–she had been fighting for herself. But the whole time, Miko– her Miko–had fought as well, had refused to let Ei waste away into a forgotten eternity away from the world. Miko had spent centuries cultivating the Grand Narukami Shrine’s power and influence and bending it to one singular purpose: anchoring Ei to Inazuma, the real Inazuma, and eventually bringing her back. Ei saw now the grand sweep of Miko’s ambition, and the fervent flame that had fueled it.
Before her was not simply her old friend, a precocious kitsune full of friendly affection, mischievous sass, and hunger for fried tofu. She saw before her, naked and trembling in her pain, anger, and longing, the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, a woman of unrivaled cunning, power, and accomplishment.
Who had set all of that aside, after centuries of honing it to bring about this very day, to climb into a bath with Ei, soothe her weary muscles, feed her sweets, and welcome her home.
And in those centuries of contemplation and combat, Ei had barely thought about what Miko must have been going through. Not because she didn't care about Miko–there was not a single other person in the world she wanted soothing her wounds and her muscles in this bath with her. But because Ei had been so consumed by her own self that she had allowed Miko to slip out of her mind.
In her desperate effort not to lose anyone ever again, Ei had nearly lost the most important person she had left.
And what if the Traveler hadn't pulled her back? What if the Shogun had won, or had held out longer?
She stepped toward Miko and reached out to her, taking Miko’s arms in her hands. Miko allowed herself to unfold and stepped forward off the bench and into Ei’s arms, burying her face in Ei’s neck. Ei held her tight as the hot tears streamed down her cheeks and into the steaming bath. She felt Miko convulse with a sob against her chest.
“Oh, Miko, I am so sorry,” she said. “I thought I had been foolish in my pursuit of eternity, but I see now that I was foolish and blind in so many ways.”
“I have spent…. so long …wanting you back,” Miko whispered. “Will you stay, this time? For real? With me?”
Ei nuzzled her face down against Miko’s, and pulled her in tighter. “Yes, Miko,” she replied. “You matter to me, too. I have been so preoccupied with trying to be an archon that I forgot to pay attention to the people I loved most. I won’t make that mistake again. I….” she shuddered as a sob wracked her body. “I thought, in the back of my mind during my fight with the Shogun, that I had lost you. I thought everyone I knew was long gone, after so many years. You live a long time, you kitsune, but not forever–”
“I’d certainly try,” Miko murmured into Ei’s neck.
Ei chuckled through her tears. “I think perhaps I understand now why Makoto loved transience. She didn’t love the change . She loved people. She loved Inazuma. And people change, and they perish. And Makoto wanted to cherish the time she had with the people around her. The impermanence was a part of what made that time precious. In my foolishness, I thought I had eternity, so what was a few centuries of contemplation? I failed to consider that though I might not notice a few centuries, the people I loved most would–and that I would hurt them in my contemplation. Makoto tried so hard to explain to me why transience was superior to eternity–perhaps she was trying to get me to notice the people who loved me. I was so blind, so oblivious to the feelings of so many people. Miko...did I…did I fail to notice even her affection?”
Miko pulled herself up slightly so that her mouth was level with Ei’s ear. “Your sister loved you, Ei,” she breathed. “She loved you as much as any of us did. You didn’t hurt her. She just wanted you to love as fully as she did–as we did.”
Ei felt the strength begin to leave her arms, and she turned toward the bench, letting go of Miko just enough to set the both of them down before collapsing into sobs. Miko pulled her close on the bench, sitting upright so she could hold Ei’s head against her chest above the water.
Ei cried into Miko’s chest, with Miko gently stroking her hair and caressing her back, as her own tears fell like hot rain onto Ei’s shoulders.
“I miss my sister,” Ei sobbed.
“I miss her too,” Miko whispered. “I’m sorry it took so long to pull you out of the Plane of Euthymia. I wish I could have grieved with you after she died. But I’m here now. You don’t have to grieve alone.”
Ei nodded, and pulled herself tight around Miko. “I missed you, Miko,” she whispered with a gasping breath. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you, and it hurts how much I was missing without you. I was such a fool. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving.”
Miko pulled Ei tight, and slid down slightly so that Ei’s face pressed against hers and they could both rest their heads against the bamboo lip of the bath.
Miko gently brushed a strand of purple hair out of Ei’s face and gently nuzzled her nose against Ei’s, as she held her close in the steaming water.
“You know I wouldn’t let you,” she whispered.