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String looped around Ochako’s fingers and tugged at her callouses. Biting her lip, she marveled over how her fingertips had hardened after years sitting in front of the weaving loom. In her empty bedroom, Ochako looked over her shoulder as if the walls had eyes. She held her breath and let the row she’d just woven unravel.
A pool of red string twisted in her palm. She swallowed hard as she shut her eyes as she remembered the whispers of the suitors. Isn’t red too cheerful a color for a burial shroud? With a sign, Ochako twisted the gold wedding band around her fingers. The suitors didn’t understand that Ochako’s wife wouldn’t have wanted to be associated with any other color even by mourners. Before she’d boarded the ship bound for Troy, Himiko had always said the red meant she loved Ochako.
Wrapping the red thread around the spool, Ochako bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood as she dwelled on how the burial shroud felt like a lie. Himiko couldn’t be dead. Ochako didn’t care that it had been years since Himiko had sailed away for war. Or that the strongest warrior in the world hadn’t made it out alive because of his treacherous heel – he’d fallen just like his lover.
Both boys had been strikingly similar to Himiko and Ochako. Katsuki had been as strong as Himiko had been quick in a fight and Izuku had been as loyal in battle as Ochako hoped to be. So loyal that both their ashes had been buried together. The kind of burial that would be impossible for Ochako if Himiko had in fact sunken to the bottom of the sea
But Ochako refused to be another doomed love story in a Greek tragedy.
Ochako had promised to give Himiko blood for the rest of her life after all. She’d never shied away from the trickster queen of Ithaca’s unusual habits. There was no reality in which Himiko would force Ochako to break her vow by not leaving this world too soon. Or at least so Ochako hoped.
She ran her hand down the braid trailing down her back far enough to reach the belt wrapping around her toga. Ochako chuckled over Himiko’s family name was the same as the garment. Back when they were kids, Himiko used to claim it was because her ancestors had invented the article of clothing. A clever trickster from as soon as she could speak. A likely reason why her family had managed to gain the goddess of wisdom’s favor.
Grazing over the dead ends of her hair, Ochako wondered whether Himiko would even recognize her once she returned. Was Himiko going to be sad that Ochako no longer sported a short haircut? Would she mourn the loss of the rosiness in Ochako’s cheeks after years of mourning? Would she lament the wrinkles creasing Ochako’s forehead from constantly fretting over the constant onslaught of suitors?
Or would she somehow against all odds still call Ochako the cutest girl in the world regardless of how Himiko’s absence had aged her?
Suddenly, a flash of bright light caught the corner of Ochako’s vision. A towering woman seemed to emerge from nothingness. She sported a Corinthian helmet with a cluster of feathers that gave the illusion of her being even taller. A long dark ponytail flowed against the nape of her neck. A shield with the outline of a gorgon’s head pressed into it rested in the goddess’ grip. Slate gray eyes blinked back at Ochako. The same shade as clouds swirling around the eye of the storm.
Kneeling in front of the burial shroud, Ochako hesitated to turn toward the patron goddess of weaving. She half expected the goddess to critique her poor weaving technique – but she supposed that goddess of wisdom prioritised the scheming Ochako had in progress.
Ochako cleared her throat and faced Momo. “Can you tell me for certain whether she’s alive?”
“I cannot. Gods are not supposed to obviously intervene in mortal affairs.”
“For the goddess of wisdom you’re a terrible liar.” Ochako pulled herself up by a leg of the weaving loom to stand up. “Wasn’t the entire war that might have killed my wife gods intervening in mortal affairs?”
“In subtle ways.”
“I’d hardly call the way an arrow that was redirected into a certain invincible warrior’s heel subtle.”
Momo lifted her shield and shrugged. “Well, my brother has always fancied flashiness when it comes to his divine intervention.”
Fuming, Ochako glared at the goddess with enough vitriol to get smited. “Is there anything useful you can actually tell me?”
“That it is worthwhile to hold out hope.”
Hope . The one good thing that had sprung forth from Pandora’s box millenia ago. Craning her neck up toward the goddess, Ochako figured that even though hope sometimes didn’t feel like enough that it still wasn’t to be taken for granted. After all, without it she would’ve sunken into her sea of grief years ago and never resurfaced.
“Thank you,” Ochako said. She smiled at Momo as she picked up the half-woven burial shroud. “I suppose I shouldn’t be ungrateful. Not after the patronage you’d given me with weaving.”
“Do not give me all the credit. You concocted your ruse all on your own. And who am I to deny the efforts of a woman wise beyond her years?”
And with those words Momo faded away in the flash of light so quickly that Ochako could have believed that she’d simply imagined the goddess’ visit. But at the very least Momo’s endorsement of Ochako and Himiko’s match warmed up the empty space in Ochako’s heart. Especially since few and far between had approved of the marriage over the years.
A foolish match. Not the kind that could produce a biological heir. So many knocks had hammered against Ochako’s door since Himiko was assumed dead, demanding that Ochako wed one of the suitors to have a “real” heir to the throne of Ithaca. Bile clawed at Ochako’s throat. How could she even consider letting a suitor fill Himiko’s place when every single suitor insisted on denying Eri’s existence?
Unweaving her braid, Ochako ran her fingers through her hair and let the strands fall over her face like drapes. A shield from the rest of the world so it wouldn’t see her resolve fracturing. Bound by blood or not, Eri was her and Himiko’s daughter. A connection forged the day Himiko found a demigod child called a monster all her life just like Himiko had been. A kid who learned to overcome her fear of blades and blood because Himiko loved both so much.
Light footsteps echoed through what was once Ochako and Himiko’s shared bed chamber and Ochako did not even need to turn around to know who had just stepped through the doorway. Brushing her hair out of her face, Ochako sat down on the bed and waved Eri over.
Eri sank against her lap and Ochako wove her hair into braids with more care than she had ever shown the lie of a shroud. Tears began to swell in the corners of Ochako’s eyes but she held her head higher in hopes they would retreat back into her eye sockets. Himiko would’ve loved to style Eri’s hair. Yet, Eri was so young when Himiko left that her hair hadn’t been long enough to braid yet.
“Mama, what was Mom like?” Eri asked.
“What is Mom like? She’ll be back someday.”
“But the suitors say she’s gone. That she died at sea.”
“The suitors know nothing,” Ochako said.
Eri picked at her nail beds. “They say she died because of me. That she chose to drown because instead of having me as a daughter.”
Imaginary flames burned beneath Ochako’s skin. The suitors had gone too far yet again. All in hopes that denying the rightful heir to the throne would earn them the crown. If not for the almost guaranteed risk of a coup d’etat, Ochako would’ve stormed at the suitors with a sword in hand herself to teach them a lesson for speaking ill of her wife and daughter.
“As if those idiots couldn’t get any more disgusting.” Ochako patted Eri’s head. “Your mom loved you, Sweetheart. She didn’t leave because of you. She left because of a sense of duty – and she’ll return to Ithaca because of her duty to us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. More certain than I’ve been about anything in my life.” Ochako ran her finger against the corner of Eri’s mouth. “Your smile is just like hers, Eri. It’s beautiful. The kind of smile I’d get envious of.”
A knock reverberated against the door. Slow and methodical. The opposite of the suitors’ frantic knocking. Ochako beckoned the person knocking to enter and Aizawa, one of her most trusted guards, entered the room.
“The suitors are demanding an audience,” Aizawa said.
“Again?” Ochako sighed.
Aizawa’s eyebags made him look as exhausted about the idea of entertaining suitors as Ochako felt about the idea. She noticed his fingers inching toward the scarf around his neck but he didn’t grab it. After all, Ochako had told him to refrain from restraining and detaining the suitors. There was no need to fan the flames of a possible revolt when there were so many of them. The suitors needed to be outsmarted, not outfought.
“What is it this time?”
“They found out about you unraveling the shroud,” Aizawa said.
Ochako went as pale as the spirits crossing the river to the underworld. No, no, no. They couldn’t find out. Not with the consequences that would come with her being outmatched in a battle of wits versus sheer numbers. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep the ruse going on forever, but with the ruse revealed Ochako doubted that she would be able to buy Ochako much more time.
“How?” Ochako asked.
Aizawa’s gaze drifted toward Eri. Not in an accusatory way but rather as if he’d come to terms with the inevitable reality of the scheme falling apart sooner or later.
“Eri, did you tell the suitors about how Mama’s been making the shroud?”
Slowly, Eri nodded her head. “I told them to be patient with you because you’re having a hard time making it because it always unravels.”
As Ochako started to shake, Eri blinked back at her with wide eyes. “Did I do something wrong, Mama? Did I ruin everything?”
Some ugly part of Ochako wanted to say yes . Because if Eri hadn’t unknowingly revealed the truth then maybe just maybe Ochako could have kept the illusion going for another year or two. But what’s done is done. And the truth could only ever remain concealed for so long. If not Eri, then one of the servants was liable to spill the secret sooner or later.
“You didn’t ruin everything. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out a solution.”
Patting Eri on the back, Ochako stared across the room and spotted a pair of silver flickering in the sunlight that shone through the window. She had half a mind to pick up the scissors and slice up the forsaken burial shroud that had only been able to buy her so much time. But as the silver glinted in the corner of her eye, she pictured a set of throwing knives with handles too unbalanced for most.
And a challenge started to form in Ochako’s mind.
Storming through the hallway, Ochako placed a final pin in her hair to fix the bun in place. She gathered her breath as she clenched her fists and mentally went over the words she had prepared. Though she never thought that she’d resort to any of the measures she’d taken, she would have it any other way if she could do it again. She made a beeline for the altar at the end of the hallway and picked up a platter of fruit from beside the fire. Casting the offering into the flames, she sent a silent prayer to Momo.
Please just let Himiko know that I’ll be here waiting.
With a sigh, Ochako headed for the throne room. As she walked past the throne with Himiko’s laurels resting on the seat, Ochako hoped that her gold jewelry weighed down on her limbs heavily enough that no one would notice her trembling. Chatter from the flood of suitors echoed even louder against the high ceilings of the throne room. Ochako shut her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength and asking for the goddess of wisdom’s favor before she projected her voice.
“I’m sure we all know why we’re here.”
“Because you’re a traitor. You lied to us,” a suitor called out.
“Clearly you didn’t care about the late queen if you could not be bothered to complete the burial shroud. It is time to wed another for the sake of the kingdom,” another suit cried.
The first suitor hollered in agreement. “Besides, shouldn’t you wed a king rather than a queen? You’ve doomed the kingdom by not producing a real heir.”
Ochako’s nerves buzzed with adrenaline as she imagined pulling out her hairpin and directing it to the suitor’s throat as she wrestled him to the ground. How dare they insinuate that Eri is unworthy of her place in Ithaca’s royal family. The suitors deserved to pay for the grief they had caused Ochako’s family and especially her child.
Instead, Ochako grit her teeth and made her hand retreat from the hairpin. Although Ochako had been training her to fight with Aizawa since Himiko’s departure just in case, she was still not close to matching Himiko’s prowess in battle – especially since Himiko had war as a teacher. Long story short there was no way Ochako could take down all the suitors on her own. Even with assistance from Himiko and Aizawa such a feat would still feel like a pipe dream.
“Enough!” Ochako yelled. “I have gathered you all here today to propose a challenge.”
“And why should we listen to you?” yet another suitor yelled.
“Because this will be your chance to rule as king.” Ochako cleared her throat and gestured toward knives hung by the entrance to the throne room. For once the suitors were dead quiet.
“Whoever can sharpen my wife’s old knives and throw it through twelve axes cleanly will be the new king, sit down at the throne and rule with me as his queen.”
The silence broke and chatter flooded to room like the waves that had made Himiko’s return home so much more out of reach. Ochako stood tensely as the suitors muttered over how such a challenge seemed so deceptively easy after all the waiting.
After what felt like an eternity, the suitor standing closest to the throne sent Ochako a sly smile. “We accept your challenge.”
Good. Ochako held her chin higher. Hopefully she could buy enough before the suitors realized that the challenge was near impossible for anyone other than Himiko. No one else was as familiar with the unusual placement of the knives’ center of gravity and how the knives would fall to the ground instantly when not thrown at just the right angle. And hopefully it would take the suitors a long time to realize how to sharpen the knives without them shattering.
Ochako smiled at the knives which reminded her of Himiko’s sharp teeth. The weapons were made so much like their wielder. Knives made of an alloy strong enough to sharply slice through any adversary. But the material was rigid such that it would shatter if put under too much pressure while sharpened.
Glancing out the window, Ochako spotted storm clouds brewing. She could only hope that it was some divine sign that Himiko would be returned to her soon. A sign that trying to buy Himiko a little more time would be enough.
A sharp knock at her door made Ochako stir beneath her covers. Groggily, Ochako sat up and rubbed the crust out of the corners of her eyes. For a moment, she could have sworn that the sharp five taps by the doorframe were Himiko’s distinct pattern of knocking. Pulling a blanket over shoulders, Ochako figured that she was just imagining things in her half asleep daze.
As she pulled the door open, she was met by a barrel chested man who was a good foot taller than Ochako. Placing her hands on her hips, Ochako stared the suitor down. Her hand-to-hand combat training would hopefully give her a leg up regardless of the suitor’s imposing height.
“What are you doing here?”
The suitor grinned back at her. Something about the way the corners of his mouth rose gave Ochako deja vu but she dismissed the idea.
“Just looking at the queen who I’ll have by my side if I win the challenge,” the suitor said.
Huffing, Ochako reached to close the door. “If that was all I’ll take my leave and rest.”
A heavy foot pushed through the gap in the door and pressed it open. “Wait –”
“Leave! You won’t replace my wife! No suitor could.”
The suitor stepped closer. “But what if she never comes back? Wouldn’t she want you to move on and be happy?”
Snapping, Ochako pulled out her hair pin and held it toward the suitor’s throat as hair cascaded down her shoulders. “Even if I’m wrong and she is dead I will never marry another. Especially not the likes of you suitors.”
The suitor’s voice quivered with disbelief. “She left you for so long though. Why does she deserve your loyalty?”
“Because I made her a promise. To give her blood for the rest of my life.”
For a split second, the suitor’s smile grew sharp and warm all at once. Something about his expression looked all too familiar. Petrified, Ochako pulled her hairpin away from the suitor’s throat. As Ochako retreated, the suitor’s jaw grew smoother and his charcoal hair grew lighter with each passing second. A puddle of goo enveloped the suitor as he shrunk down to Ochako’s height. His skin started to melt away into a grayish goo, revealing the cutest girl in the world.
Grinning awkwardly back at Ochako, Himiko scratched the back of her own head. “Thank you for waiting for the disguise to wear off before trying to stab me.”
“I kind of want to stab you now. How dare you disappear for so long!”
“I’m sorry Ochako. But I’m here now.”
“You are.”
Not wasting another second, Ochako leaned toward Himiko into an embrace tight enough to cut off circulation. Burying her face into Himiko's shoulder, Ochako noted how Himiko’s hair smelled of blood and iron. There were new scars on Himiko’s face too – echoes from the battles she had endured. She wasn’t the exact same Himiko who Ochako remembered. Proof that Himiko was real and not just an illusion or a dream that could slip away through her fingertips at any moment.
Ochako pressed Himiko even tighter against her chest. “And for the record I never really believed you were dead.”
“I know.”
Grabbing Himiko by the hand, Ochako led Himiko to the bed where they curled up against each other. “And I’d never believe it in any universe. Even if it looked like you bled out in front of me.”
“I know you’d never give up on me. Otherwise, you would have a long time ago.” Himiko reached out to cup Ochako’s face. “Like back when the court tried to exile me for powers no one should have.”
“They were idiots. Especially since your powers were why you were even able to survive something like Troy.”
For a while, Ochako and Himiko just rested beside each other in silence while clasping each other’s hands. There was so much left to be said, years with each other lost and so many gaps to fill. So many stories to tell one another from the time during which they had been apart. It was nice to simply have space to breathe and just exist beside each other.
Ochako reached out to press a strand of hair behind Himiko’s ear. She’d shorn it into a pixie cut, gone were the two buns Himiko once adorned – mostly likely so that opponents in battle wouldn’t tug on her hair. “Do you want to meet Eri tomorrow? She’s adorable. Reminds me a lot of you.”
“Yes, of course! I bet she’s grown up so much since I left.”
Himiko leaned over to press a delicate kiss against Ochako’s forehead. Momo must have finally heard Ochako’s prayers. The raging war of wit and suitors could finally at long last draw to a close.
“I guess with you back I can finally call off the challenge.”
“I wouldn’t do that just yet, cutie.” Himiko’s expression darkened as she pressed Ochako’s hand firmly. “In the crowd I overheard the suitors talking. It doesn’t matter whether I return or not. They plan to kill Eri and take you as queen by force.”
Ochako pressed bedsheets against her mouth and suppressed a scream. Her nails clawed at scalp in hopes that it would finally make the world stop spinning for a moment and just leave her be. “No, no, no. I just wish this all will be over.”
“It will soon, cutie. I promise.” Himiko’s fangs gently grazed Ochako’s cheek. “After all, no one will be able to escape by aim during the challenge.”
“I suppose you’ve always had a way with knives.”
As Himiko stared at Ochako like she was her whole world, Ochako breathing steadied. She pulled Himiko closer and sunk into a kiss, letting the pressure from Himiko’s lips chase the knots in her stomach away. By the time they pulled away from each other the unspoken question resting on Ochako’s tongue had gotten too heavy to hold.
“Himiko, why did it take you so long to return? The voyage back is normally only supposed to last a handful of months.”
“I know, Ochako.” Himiko’s fangs dug into her lower lip as she struggled to look Ochako in the eye. “I guess it started with an island called Ogygia… or a cyclops… or a sorceress. Sorry, it’s a really long story.”
Smiling, Ochako set her hand down on top of her wife’s. “No worries, Himiko. For you I have all the time in the world.”
“Aww, all that for little old me. Are you sure?” Himiko wiggled her eyebrows. “You do have a lot of dashing suitors to choose from.”
“Dashing? More like insufferable.”
“Okay, okay. If you say so. But you’d better not complain that you should have married one of the suitors instead when we grow old and I annoy you.”
“That’ll never happen. I’d rather die than grow old without the best of you,” Ochako said.
And as she locked lips with Himiko she thanked all the gods in Olympus for having mercy on her and letting her life not become yet another tragic Greek love story.