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Festival season, Yae has noticed, is conflicting for Ei. The highs are high, of course, but the lows are low. Even if Ei herself doesn’t notice.
She’s pushing herself (probably training), off in her own world again in the weeks leading up to the festival. The public notices no difference, of course. The Shogun does her job well. But Yae always knows. Ei speaks softer and makes less eye contact. She knows her god best out of those who still live. Of this, she is proud.
… So maybe Yae arranges for some mild vandalism of her own publishing house. Just so she can take the moment to grab Ei’s wrist when she rises to the surface to investigate.
“You mustn’t forget, the summer festival is in three days. Watch the fireworks with me.”
The surprise, confusion, and realization that sequences through those beautiful eyes are all enjoyable. But it pales to that wonderful moment when her god nods. What a lucky fox she is, to have her god submit to her whims. Ei realizes she was baited into the real world, of course, but does not press.
Yae wants to bite her just a little bit for how cute that is, but no. She has plans.
They do watch the fireworks. And when they do, finally, her god speaks to her most devoted and defiant follower. Imitations of divine lighting flash and burst overhead. The sound has a way of comforting them both, so close to thunder.
“... She should be here instead of me. They all should be here,” Ei says, quietly.
Ah. So that’s what this is about. Yae had a feeling.
“Should is a strong word, you know. Do any of us really deserve to live more than the others? I think, often, that the Lady Saiguu should be here and not me.”
She sighs, and her hand reaches for Ei’s.
“But she would say perish the thought if she was here. You know Makoto would say the same.”
… Overhead, the sky lights up with the color of sakura petals. As if she agrees, from wherever she is now.
“I know. But it doesn’t hurt any less.”
Yae nods. Ei squeezes her hand. It would hurt, probably, were it anyone but Yae. Ei clings to her as if she may disappear.
“It doesn’t, no,” the kitsune agrees. “But. There’s always a but, isn’t there. We are the lucky, or the unlucky. I don’t think it matters which one, really. We are here. They are not. But as the waves of time attempt to beat us down, Ei, there’s really only one choice. Don’t forget. Ever.”
The silences between them are never forced. Ei is quiet even at her best, after all. Yae doesn’t mind. They are together. This will outlive her and perhaps even Ei if the Shogun takes the throne someday. This is satisfying. Her ears flick.
“I won’t forget you. Or her. Or any of them.”
The word isn’t used, but it feels like a promise. Ei, who’s had her heart broken, who’s been a monster, who must pay for her crimes, is trying. She’s trying every day, really. Yae wasn’t wanting a gift out of this but this is a precious one.
Everything is bittersweet, in the end, but Yae is greedy. She will take and treasure every gift the gods deign to give her. The bitterness makes the sweet all the better.
“... Will you come to bed?”
Neither of them need to sleep. But sleep (and other things) are an indulgence.
“Of course.”
Ei wakes alone. Yae's gone. There’s an omamori at her bedside.