Chapter Text
A/N: It is recommended that you read the first story, Finally I Can Grieve, for this is a sequel that connect heavily to the first story. I really wanted to write a short story about Castti and the travellers bonding so here is the start!
Spoilers: Hikari Chapter 5, Minor Temenos Chapter 3 (a sentence, but it spoils important stuff).
“There—how does that feel?”
An injured woman uneasily tries to move her arm, and to her utmost delight it doesn’t hurt. “Much better! Thank you so much, Miss Castti!”
Castti smiles. She then directs her attention to a soldier thrashing about due to a fever caused by an infected wound. Although stubborn to be treated by ‘one associated with the enemy’ she silences him with a sleeping drug. For the past few days she, and some other apothecaries, have been treating those affected by Mugen’s War, be that civilians and those who fought for him or against him. Hikari—now King of Ku—was grateful beyond words when she offered her services. It is her role to extend a helping hand to all those in need.
She spots some visiting family, friends, and loved ones holding some paper constructs, something that resembles the lanterns unique to Hinoeuma. They are taking candles and… placing them in the lanterns? Those lanterns are treated with a veneration of one paying deepest respects to those whom they love.
She moves to the head apothecary, an elderly woman all too familiar with conflict in Ku named Yüki, to ask: “Is Ku preparing for something?”
“The Lantern Festival is coming up,” Yüki answers with a solemn smile as she gazes at everyone. “In tradition we all make a lantern dedicated to the deceased so celebrate the end of the a war. But Lord Hikari wants this festival to be about grieving for those we lost during the conflict.”
Her wrinkly fingers brush a blanket-covered corpse of one who could not be saved. “Everyone lost someone dear to them during this war.”
A day dedicated to mourning. Everyone in Ku now has the luxury to pay their respects. Castti frowns sullenly and her face grows sunken when the onslaught of familiar faces, the Eir’s Apothecaries, storms across her mind. Feeling overwhelmed she leans against a table to catch her breath and ease her thudding heart. It’s been… a month since she erected the tombstones in Healeaks and delivered her eulogy. Even so she finds her mind ebb and flow with newly remembered memories of her Eir’s Apothecaries. She has no control of when they conjure or what she remembers; they come and go like the wind in the desert, sometimes being more powerful than other times.
Ever since her eulogy she feels more frustrated about being left in the dark. Usually one has closure from burying loved ones but instead it reminds her of how far from closure she truly is. She still doesn’t remember where each Eir’s Apothecaries were born. She still doesn’t remember if they have family or friends that are alive; if they had good relations with family, and where they were born. She still doesn’t remember the Eir’s Apothecaries last names, save for Malaya Caleni.
She’s been keeping this to herself. Being an apothecary means not worrying others of your own ailments or woes. Besides when she is busy or focused on a task, that of helping her friends on completing their journeys, she is… well enough. She’s not so easily distracted. Some of her companions have no closure at all so she mustn’t complain.
“You lost some people dear to you.”
Breaking out of her melancholic trance she looks up to see Yüki with a knowing and sympathetic look directed at her. Although she wants to assure the apothecary that she has already paid her respects her throat clogs up. There is this part of her that thinks her eulogy was incomplete: she doesn’t remember crucial details about their lives, so how could it have been complete. That thought has mercilessly nagged her throughout the month. Even though she acknowledges she delivered a heartfelt eulogy and paid her respects it still… feels like she should have remembered more beforehand.
She manages to compose her breathing and come to a stand, looking stoic as she’s been described throughout her life. It is a blessing to have such a trait in her line of work.
“Night will fall soon, and people will let go of their lanterns so they will fly towards the stars. Do attend, for your own sake.”
When everyone else at the festival holds precious memories of the deceased and knows their histories except her…? Perhaps attending would be cruel reminders of that…
Her shift has ended, or rather her duty is done. Yüki informed her that her services are no longer needed, and that she, and everyone in Ku, are eternally grateful to her. One would think that for her it was surreal to work with other apothecaries, but on the contrary she felt nothing. She’s worked with groups of apothecaries many times over, even before starting Eir’s Apothecaries (ah, a recollection: it’s vague, but says a lot), so it wasn’t overwhelming for her.
Perhaps it would have been overwhelming if any of them reminded her of her fellow apothecaries, but she didn’t speak with any of them outside of how to treat someone or what remedies Ku has different from hers.
It’s night time, but the streets are busy and packed with people from across all walks of life. (The streets are no longer littered with corpses when Hikari and the rest of the travellers stormed the city, and there is no fighting). Instead of the sounds of clashing weapons or the swish from fired arrows the only noises are conversations amongst all present and string instruments. Stars and the candlelight from the paper lanterns light up the dark sky, a tranquil orange glow that can ease the weariest and most stressed of souls.
Orange was Malaya’s favourite colour.
Immediately she comes to a halt and finds her ears ringing so loudly that her head pounds. Now, now—this isn’t the time to breakdown, especially over something as trivial as her love’s favourite colour. But that’s the thing: remembering something, even a small thing like favourite colour, is a blessing for an amnesiac.
“Ah, I love the colour orange...!”
Castti halts and turns around to see Malaya gazing at the sun setting down along the ocean horizon. There is a blissful smile etched upon her tanned face, the picture definition of contentment. A bit of wind blows some of Malaya’s loose locks. For some reason Castti has the compulsion to reach out and brush a strand behind her ear.
“It is a lovely colour,” she comments with a smile. “Is it your favourite, Malaya?”
Malaya turns to her with that lovely grin of pearly whites that always conjure a pleasant warmth in her. “It is. I love the warmth associated with it.”
Castti comes to her side. They have grown quite close since Malaya ended their one-sided rivalry (it is now a memory she uses to tease her). Whenever they are free of patients or work they go on these nature walks. Despite looking seemingly like opposites it turns out they have quite a few things in common, like enjoying nature outings, reading, and being teases with friends.
Her favourite colour is blue. It’s calming, and is associated with two powerful nature givers: the sky and the sea. She chose this colour to represent Eir’s Apothecaries, for mankind, regardless where they are or what walks of life they come from, has looked to the skies for guidance: people can look to the Eir’s Apothecaries for assistance. Water is the giver of life; as such Eir’s Apothecaries gives or maintains life to those in need, irrespective of background.
“Blue and orange look great together,” Castti mentions with a sly grin directed at Malaya.
A knowing smile etches upon Malaya’s face as she looks over at her. She playfully nudges her shoulder. “They sure do.”
“I am glad to have found you, Castti.”
Breaking out of her trance she spots Hikari, miraculously alone without guards, nobles attempting to curry his favours, and Benkei being literally with him every step of the way. Though clad in the royal robes he still evokes warmth in his smile. Concern flickers across his eyes, the sort when one wishes to help you out but shan’t pry into your personal matters.
He was the first companion she made during her journey to reclaim her memories. She was heading to the direction of Sai when she stumbled upon an unconscious Hikari barely clinging to life. So she carried him to the nearest town to treat his dehydration and wounds. Through his deliriousness he revealed what happened to him and Ku. Even though she was desperate to recover her past she felt compelled to assist his quest.
From there a beautiful friendship sparked. A solemn man with great warmth and love for mankind, he understands and shares her desire to help all. They needn’t chat for hours to enjoy the other’s company; sometimes they simply sat together in silence and became content knowing the other is there for them. They can understand how one is feeling without words, and both are quite perceptive to the other’s hidden or supressed woes. She considers him her closest friend.
“Will you accompany me?” He asks, his tone indicating that he truly believes it would benefit her if she joins him.
Being amongst a friend is better than wallowing alone. “I would love to.”
Thus he leads her away from any prying eyes by passing through side streets. Sometimes he makes some stops to greet others, ever a man for the people. (Randy and Andy were great with handling all manner of people, and here they would get along with a plethora of them…). Hikari made it clear to the travellers that he wishes to continue accompanying them until all their journeys are over. Ku will manage during that time, for he fortunately has Benkei and other trusted and kind advisors to rule in his place. She believes him: he wouldn’t leave Ku unattended.
He guides her to the top of the wall, an area only he and the guards can access, where they can overlook the entirety of Ku. The amount of candlelight is even more breathtaking, a spectacle to behold. The lanterns look like jellyfishes cradled in the arms of people. Dancers look like ants flailing their legs about.
From here she spots the rest of her friends. Partitio is learning to make his own lantern by a few kindly children demonstrating to him. Agnea is slumped against Throné’s side, utterly exhausted from dancing, the two, judging by the weighty gazes, chatting as to if it is wrong for Throné to mourn for Father or if an assassin should be amongst those wishing peace. Temenos is alone in a ruined side street, still unused to expressing vulnerability amongst friends, to mourn in private for Roi, Pontif Jörg, and Crick. Osvald is the only one without a lantern—until his revenge is sated he won’t be able to truly mourn and pays respects for his wife and daughter.
“This festival must be reminding you of those you lost,” Hikari utters, ever understanding of others and always attuned to her wellbeing.
Her head droops to hide her melancholic expression. “Indeed…”
In her peripheral vision she notes his face soften. “I too understand what it means to shoulder the burden of responsibility of overlooking others except yourself.”
“That’s what apothecaries do,” she answers, her tone sounding flat to her ears. She looks over to him with a rueful gaze. “And that’s what kings do too.”
Her comment doesn’t faze him; when it comes to worrying about a friend he is only honed on their troubles. “We both know that isn’t healthy.”
His intent yet kind gaze assures her that he shall keep her worries between just them, and won’t speak a word to anyone unless she permits him to.
“You feel the burden of being the sole survivor,” he adds; this is a statement, not a question. “Worse, you feel the burden of being the sole survivor whose memories are still hazy.”
Her throat clogs up.
Is she really so obvious?
Judging by how no one else has approached she likely isn’t such an open book (Temenos probably suspects, the most perceptive a human can be, but doesn’t know how to approach her). Her features grow haggard, knowing that it is pointless to lie to him, to throw of the weights of her unfazed façade. The purple marks throb in tune to her heavy heart. Reflexively she clutches her arms to dull the throbbing.
Carefully he rests a hand on her shoulder. Such a simple gesture manages to ease her quickened breath (when did she start to breathe so laboriously?) and prevent her spiralling into dismay. Now she silently and pitifully observes him for his wisdom.
“You are not alone anymore, Castti,” Hikari utters. “You needn’t keep it all to yourself.”
Hearing such words aloud from a dear friend—and he isn’t just an ally, but a friend—and knowing it to be true, that the other travellers care for her, is enough to have her shed a few tears. She knows she isn’t alone, but… it feels like she is. The reality says otherwise, but mentally she feels like the only one walking through an empty void. She doesn’t want to see the travellers as replacements, yet the more time she spends with them the more her mind convinces her that she is being cruel and dismissing the Eir’s Apothecaries. Still to hear those words, and know that similar sentiment is shared amongst the others, is a step in slowly dragging her out from the pit that is guilt and sorrow.
“Do you ever feel like you could have done more to save others…?” Castti whispers, her hoarse tone almost startling her.
“Always. I even wonder if I replaced someone’s deserving place to be alive.”
Blue eyes widen in realisation. It never dawned on her that he too might suffer survivor guilt. Yet now, as she really looks at Hikari, his sunken face seems equally haunted as hers. Those eyes, though still full of life, have that blankness that she has only seen from survivors and in her own reflection. Neither will ever be content that others died for them. It will haunt them till they die. But so long as they have friends and a purpose—his to rule and create a peaceful Ku, hers to extend a helping hand—they can manage.
They are kindred souls.
From his elongated sleeve Hikari pulls out two paper lanterns. He offers one to her. With a hitch in her breath she takes it. Elma used to love craft making… she would have loved to have made her own lantern… His expression softens, now appearing content in that manner of someone sharing similar woes and coping together.
“Shall we pay tributes to those who gave their lives for us?”
More tears flow from her eyes. She wonders if she should, when there are still plenty of mental blanks to fill. Maybe she’ll never recover all her memories… It’s very likely, the most terrifying reality to face. Perhaps… perhaps the feelings she associates with each Eir’s Apothecaries is enough to pay tributes. One mourns forever, and visits graves over and over, so she can mourn again and again with more resurfaced memories.
So she lights it, closes her eyes to think intently of her fondest memories of Elma, Andy, Randy, and Malaya, and presses her forehead against the paper lantern as if to spiritually connect herself to them. Maybe it is simply the fire in the lit lantern, but she feels the warmth of many cherished people embracing her. For a few seconds she basks in this pleasant feeling, the familiar smiling faces of her dearest Eir’s Apothecaries appearing across her mind. For once the guilt of having not saved them does not pester her upon seeing their faces.
Then she pulls away and lets go of the lantern.
Watching it fly up into the sky she knows she will never feel free or unburdened like the lantern. But it will keep floating and floating, just as how she will keep continuing remembering them and what Eir’s Apothecaries set out to do: extend a helping hand to all those in need.
A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts (be that a multi paragraph analysis, a keyboard smash, or even if it is an emoji) and if possible some feedback!
A/N(2): For anyone curious and interested: I wrote two Throné/Agnea one-shots (part of a planned quadrilogy)--The Snake Coils and Uncoils & Raspberry Hearts.