And the silence that seemed to creep around them... it was everywhere. It was the thorn that tugged at the end of her nightdress, the jutting out roots that Kazu tripped over occasionally, the cold sweeping wind that blew her hair across her face. It was a penetrating silence, which did not necessarily mean that everything was quiet. It was the occasional screaming that made Kojishi want to turn back and run and help. Jukodo would restrain her at such moments, and Kojishi would let him, the binding cords of duty keeping her back. She was not to be caught. Not under any circumstances could she allow that. She knew this. She was her father�s daughter, and she would manage to make him proud.

Their trek through the woods persisted for about two hours, until Kojishi�s feet were sore. Stupid shoes, she cursed mentally, and then hung her head, guilty to be cursing shoes at such a time. No one had said a word since they had entered the woods, aside from a few directions from Jukodo. The silence persisted. Kojishi clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling helpless. What was she to do now? After three days of running around, screaming and shouting, fighting with her brother and breaking her mother�s rules, the silence was almost unbearable. She fought the urge to shout, just to break the silence. But she could not bring herself to disturb Kazu, who, she knew, was grieving. For Kojishi, it had not yet sunk in.

And while that made it easier to just keep moving, it made her very conscious of everything around her. And that did not just mean the cold. It meant everything, from the small sounds that the wind made with the leaves of the trees, to the thudding of her own heart. Everything made her jump, and she could not decide which was worse; the unbearable silence or the small interruptions herein.

Jukodo stopped very suddenly, his pale face darkened in the night, and Kojishi bumped into him. �Why did you...?� she began, but he held up a hand, silencing her, as he looked around. Kojishi couldn�t hear anything. She couldn�t even see, as such. It was so completely dark and so completely silent. Once more, she was listening to the silence, like she had in her room, and watching the darkness, as fear rippled through her, chilling her more than she already was cold, though that she would not have believed possible.

�Stay here,� said Jukodo, softly, and pushed Kazu and her down to the ground. �Don�t move.�

�Where are you...?� began Kojishi, but once more, he cut her off, adding to her fear.

�Don�t talk, either,� he added.

And then he was gone, leaving them behind huddled together. Kojishi clasped Kazu�s hand instinctively, and he only seemed to glad to let her take it. They were both scared, and both of them trembled, although that may just have been the cold. Jukodo had left so silently and so swiftly... it made Kojishi nervous. They had said there were spies in Tzorke, trained far better than the ones in Lajandra. If Jukodo could leave so noiselessly, then someone else, someone far more trained, could find them with greater ease, couldn�t they? Even in the darkness?

And Kojishi felt a surge of uneasiness right at that moment, and she turned her head to the left suddenly, overwhelmed by the sensation that they were being watched. Watched by something prowling in the darkness, waiting for a chance to pounce. Her grip on Kazu�s hand tightened and he held her back, though seemed too lost to feel the fear she felt.

There were wild animals in the forest too, weren�t there?

The thought seized Kojishi like a convulsion, just as someone tapped on her shoulder, and she started horribly, turning, mouth opened in a soundless, wordless cry.

�It�s only me,� whispered Jukodo. �Come on. We must go.�

Kojishi noted how he sounded out of breath, his breath coming in the same ragged pants she had heard in the Palace, only softer. Was he hurt? Had something happened? Kojishi didn�t know, but felt a little more secure not that Jukodo was here. No, she didn�t know him. But while that lack of knowledge gave her little liberty to do so, she trusted him. He had fought for her, and her brother her brought her to him. Or, at least, introduced her to him after he had flipped her over onto the ground. She felt, however, a bit more secure, although the uneasiness persisted, as she looked back one more time at that spot. Something was watching her. She felt it.

But she let Jukodo lead them out of that spot into the ever-embracing silence, and did not speak of it until much later.

Someone would have hit him on the head for thinking of something as overused as � �the battle was over� but the war had only just begun� � only that someone had gone, and would probably not be back for a very long time. The red dawn of the new day greeted the prince of Lajandra coldly, and yes, the battle was, indeed, over, though the war, it appeared, had just begun. They had only just barely won, although Kin, as he looked around at the capital, could not really say that this was a victory.

The houses still smoldered in the aftermath of their burning, and the piles of bodies only grew with every minute, as the Lajandran soldiers and the remaining citizens, worked on cleaning up the city. The cold had sort of settled upon them, like a sign of mourning from the heavens, but Kin, at the moment, was too shaken to think of heaven.

On his hands was blood. Blood of his foes, and his own, which made him want to run and hide from what had just happened. Somehow, it had to be undone, only Kin could not think of a way in which such a thing could happen. Heaven and hell, consequence and faith, all of these things held no value right now, as he looked around, his body exhausted and his muscles screaming for him to sit down and take a rest. They had fought all night long, the Tzorkian soldiers pouring in from each side. Hope, frankly, had abandoned Kin. But General Hikaru was an intelligent man, strategic and quite knowledgeable. Somehow, in a manner that was still a haze in Kin�s mind, he had managed to push the Tzorkian soldiers out of their capital.

And they were gone.

For a little while only, perhaps, but they were gone, nonetheless, leaving behind streets which were now rivers of blood, fires which wouldn�t go out no matter what they did, and a stench that Kin could not bear to hold his nose against. The dry, hot-cold environment, the people moving slowly with bowed heads and the smoke, from the houses and the collective pyres� it was all indicative of a force that seemed to have simply swept across a happy, carefree town, and destroyed everything in its path.

Kin felt dizzy with horror. They had had no warning, any of them. To have so much taken away from them in a matter of a night� Kin was not alone, he realized, in his grieving for all that had changed, for his mother�s death.

It did not make him feel any better.

�Your Highness.�

Kin turned to face his serving man. �Yes, Miki,� he said, wearily, somewhat relieved that this drunken fool had made it through the battle.

�Your Highness, I think,� said Miki, his somewhat seedy form stooped from his own exhaustion, �that you should go inside and rest.�

�Rest?� said Kin, hollowly, and just looked at the older man with eyes that did not question, did not express anything but a vague acknowledgment. It was rather evident, even without much expression, that Kin didn�t think resting, as such, was a possibility.

�But you must,� said Miki, with absurd sincerity. �You must��

�He�s right,� said General Hikaru, coming up. �You have to rest, so you can lead the country against Tzorke.�

Kin shook his head, saying, �No,� in a rather abrupt manner.

�There is nothing you can do here, sire,� said the good General, gently. �You must go to your room, and sleep. And I will raise you in a few hours to discuss the plans. You have to address the people, too. There is much to be done, your Highness,� he said, and seeing Kin nod in agreement, he nodded to Miki, �you must be strong enough to do it��

�I am strong enough to do it,� said Kin, somewhat shortly, nearly snappish. �Do you really expect me to turn my back on my people when they�re broken and bleeding?� Such a man is a coward, echoed his father�s voice, and the look in the young prince�s eyes became harder, colder. �Send for your men, General��

�But sire,� the General tried, one last time. �You must rest. We will handle the situation here� you have other things to do later. Address the people and��

Things to be done? People to be addressed? Kin did not understand this right now. To him, they were all merely words. He could not see past the haze in his mind, because clarity was too strongly connected with restfulness, and of that he had none. His hunched shoulders betrayed his exhaustion, and he felt the need to collapse. But he had to hold on. He needed to hold on. The people � Miki, General Hikaru, everyone � needed for him to hold on, and so he held on to what he thought he needed, and interrupted the General in a low, firm voice.

�Find firewood and fuel,� he said, in the sort of voice that had to be heard. He looked at the General, who swallowed and nodded in resignation. �We must burn the dead.�

The morning found them in the woods still, trudging through the shadows of the tall trees and pretending that the only thing which was bothered them was the fact the woods seemed to be a vast blanket of endlessness. None of them had spoken at all, first out of fear, and then out of a complete inability to articulate what was happening within them. Or within Kazu and Kojishi, at any rate. Jukodo Jin seemed wholly unmoved, his face a blank mask. And it was cold, in a manner that Kojishi had never experienced before. She tugged at her nightdress, trying to feel warmer and failing. The frigid breeze tugged at her hair, and she didn�t make an attempt to push it out of her face. Just another thing to distract her from the fact that she had left behind everything she had ever know.

Kin� was he okay?

Pangs of panic and anxiety had plagued her all night, even as she walked behind Jukodo, whose steady, somewhat swift gait was not as difficult to follow as one might have imagined. Every half an hour or so, Kojishi would feel a burst of anxiety and fear, and she wasn�t sure if it was just her feeling worried about her brother, or some insane bond she had had with him that neither had ever been tempted to test before. For all she was worth, she hoped it was the former, for if it was indeed him, if he was actually feeling those pangs that she did, he could not be alright, could he?

The dull, grey dawn brought with it more silence that accompanied this freezing weather. The sun that peeked out from behind the distant mountains brought with it nothing but a deep sorrow for that which had gone by, and a fearful dread for that which was to come. There was no sound but the eerie echo of ruin that, in the woods of which they had heard so many stories, was more pronounced than was probably necessary.

Kazu plodded after Kojishi, in silence. Kojishi avoided looking at him at all, because when she did, he seemed broken. Which, of course, he had ever right to be. Kojishi was still in numb shock. Hana was dead. Her mother was dead. These things just did not seem to register. They were so improbable, so utterly ridiculous, that Kojishi simply didn�t think they�d happened. It was a dream, she told herself, every other minute. She wished Kazu would register the freezing weather, which had made her own hands numb, but somehow, he didn�t seem to realize that he needed to cover his chest up, or he would catch his death of cold. Unaware of everything but the loss of his little sister, Kazu had retired into his own shell and hopefully, found comfort within the silent cavern of his mind.

Finally, when the sky that was visible through the thick growth of the forest was a light pinkish color, Kojishi broke the silence. �I must rest,� she said, in an exhausted voice that made Kazu look at her in what she would have recognized as worry had she been looking towards him.

The protector did not even turn around, continuing to walk on as though she had not said anything. At length, he said, �not yet,� in a dismissive voice.

Kojishi frowned. There were woods ahead of them, and woods before. The forest stretched out like a misty expanse of unreal mystery that Kojishi had not the strength to appreciate. �Why?� she said, in a voice that seemed close to a whine. �Where are we going?�

Jukodo stopped and turned around. �To safety,� he replied, in that soft, firm voice. It was amazing how he could use the same tone to address his charge and the ones that had threatened her life earlier on. His pale face remained quite devoid of any expression, except this look of mild, polite interest. It had remained unchanged since Kojishi had met him, and she couldn�t help but wonder about it. It was odd, needless to say. Almost disturbing, even. �It isn�t safe in the woods.�

�We�ve left the battle behind us��

�Yes,� said the young man, nodding, �but that is not all you have to be afraid of.�

As though this was explanation enough, he turned and began to walk again.

Kojishi stared after him, with a tired, exasperated expression on her face, dangerously close to make her look like a child about to cry. �Like what?� she asked, grumpily, but trudged on all the same. There was silence, once more, in which a disgruntled Kojishi stomped on, annoyed that they weren�t stopping. Exhaustion made her cranky, and cranky was exactly what she looked like right now.

A few minutes of walking later, Kazu looked up, and voiced a thought he�d been having for a while now. �Aren�t there folk in the forest or something?� he asked, looking at Jukodo�s back curiously.

�Yes,� said the protector, vaguely, and said no more, very focused on getting through the forest in this relentless, undeviating manner that was, frankly, the most irritating thing Kojishi had ever come across.

�And wild animals?� asked Kazu, a faint note of panic in his voice, now.

�A great number,� replied Jukodo, directly, and kept moving.

�Where,� said Kojishi, snapping, ignoring the look of panic on Kazu�s face, �are we going?�

�To safety.�

�Sure,� said Kojishi, �but where?�

�A little way further.�

�And how much is that?� Kojishi was beginning to feel apprehensive.

�Just some way off.� Dismissive, and abrupt. Nothing was said for a while after this.

�Not much of a conversationalist, are you?� asked Kojishi, after aforementioned while, unable to keep shut any longer. It was morning, and she was always rather annoyingly talkative in the mornings, regardless of whether she had slept or not. It was that time of the day that she was most active, or something.

Jukodo didn�t reply, and Kojishi turned to Kazu. �Not much of a conversationalist, is he?�

But Kazu didn�t reply either, too busy avoiding the root that Kojishi, a moment later, tripped over and stubbed her toe on. �Oh!� she stated, and proceeded to jump around a bit, saying a couple of things Kazu raised an eyebrow at hearing, though he heard it often enough on the streets and cannot be repeated here. �Argh!� she said, and then bit her lip. �This is just� this is excellent,� she said, a minute later, now sounding far grumpier than before. �I don�t even think you know where you�re going, you know. You just keep walking, and don�t stop, and we�re probably going around in circles and��

Kazu, who had been shaking his head at Kojishi�s babbling, looked up to see why she had stopped.

And nodded with relief a moment later, for they were there, in the �safety� Jukodo had been talking about. A couple of small huts stood in the middle of the relatively clear bit of the forest they were at, shaded by the overhanging branches right above it. The silvery sunlight of the early morning illuminated the windows and the place looked like a welcoming palace to Kazu, who was so tired that he felt he could crumble and fall and leave bits of him lying all over the ground. The visual image was enough to tell him that he was at that pinnacle of exhaustion where, if he didn�t rest, he would collapse and hallucinate himself to an illusory fantasy.

�Is that�?� he asked Jukodo, turning towards him.

The protector nodded, and walked on once more.

Kazu hung his head in mingled relief, and nodded, trudging on after him, a slightly limping Kojishi following him to safety.

The weather outside was not getting any better. The rising of the sun brought with it some warmth, but nothing was enough to make the princess stop shivering. Jukodo, who was sitting beside her, looked at her expressionlessly. Kojishi looked back, wishing that his face wasn�t always so vacuous. A little emotion would have been pleasant. Just any sign that he was alive beneath the cold demeanor of his.

But there was nothing. The old woman who lived in the hut had not questioned them at all. Instead, they had been asked to come in, almost as though they had been expected. Kojishi would have been surprised had the woman not immediately set a large bowl of soup before her. Being struck by the realization that one is immensely hungry and in need to a lot of food tends to take most other thoughts away from one�s mind, and the same happened to Kojishi, who began to eat rapidly.

Jukodo had gone and washed up, and now his skin, free of the spots of blood, was all the more pale, bringing out his intense, dark brown eyes. Now that it was light, Kojishi could see how very striking his features were � deep brown eyes, against pale skin, and a scar running down the length of his right cheek. He was clothed very thickly, and looked pretty bulky, which, judging by how skinny his hands were, with slender bones, sticking out sharply at his knuckles, he most certainly was not. He was a relatively short man. Most of the men Kojishi knew towered over her, while Jukodo was just a few of inches taller.

And yet he made a deeper impression on her than any of them. His words, spoken so softly, made more of a difference than those booming words, which powerful voices uttered.

�Here are the clothes,� said the old woman, as she came into the room, her sharp voice snapping Kojishi out of her thoughts about Jukodo and his strange, quiet demeanor. �Thick and warm, like you asked.� A moment of silence passed in which Kojishi turned back to her food and ate heartily, and Jukodo turned to the clothes to examine them. She was so hungry! The soup, which was a depressing green, tasted amazing to her, even though she was used to fancy royal food that looked better and was made by more skilled hands.

�You should eat, son.�

The old woman�s voice made both Jukodo and Kojishi look up from their tasks at the old woman, but she was not looking at either of them. Her old eyes were set on Kazu, whose soup remained, so far, untouched. The boy looked up slowly, suddenly conscious that every eye in the room was upon him, and nodded. �I� am� he said, trying to sound assertive and failing. He raised a spoonful of soup to his lips and gingerly swallowed some of it, as thought testing his ability to swallow down food. It seemed to work, and the boy, with more intent now, raised another spoonful of soup to his lips.

The old woman looked at him for a long while, as though making sure he ate, before she turned to Kojishi, who was done eating. �You should rest,� she said, to Kojishi, and the princess nodded. �Come with me and I�ll show you where you can sleep, �til the day turns to night, and you can be off again,� she said, as the princess got up, feeling the full effect of having walked through the night now in her legs, which seemed odd and wobbly. �You too, Jin.�

Jukodo scowled, and followed them out of the room.

Left alone in the silence of the room, Kazu sighed with some relief, and turned to look at the large bowl of soup the landlady had left for them. Biting his lip, Kazu helped himself to another large spoonful of soup. Swallowing it down seemed to be difficult, in a way that nothing had been difficult before. Watching the mass of dull grey soup, his hand began to tremble. The spoon fell to the ground with a clatter, as tears slipped down his cheeks, and he broke down, putting his head in his hands, his body shaking with uncontrollable grief.

Kojishi looked at the neatly made bed in the room that the old lady had led her to. It reminded her of her mother and her scrupulous ways. It spoke of the atrocities committed against Yume whose screams she could still hear. It was plain, and in that laid its beauty. But it was plain, and in that laid her unspoken grief.

She could not lie down on that bed. She couldn�t. She couldn�t�

�I can�t,� she said, softly, to the empty room, and then didn�t.

For a long time, she just stood there, letting the sound of the wind rusting through the dried leaves of the trees speak for them.

Don�t break, he had said, as though it meant something. And suddenly, it did mean something, the words echoing in her mind, over and over again.

Don�t break.

There was a distinct aura of unrest in the silence. The emptiness of the room seemed to reflect on how Kojishi felt without her brother. Oddly enough, for she had never imagined that the absence of Kin would affect her so much. But they were twins, after all, bound by something more than blood, which in itself was a powerful bond. They were twins, reflections, reciprocals� it was hard for Kojishi to think of herself without her brother.

Don�t break.

As Kojishi looked at the room, and outside the window, she felt worse, emptier, and unbelievably alone. She had never imagined that solitude could be lonely, because it had seemed to her that she was, for the most of the part, never alone. There were always people with her, and it had never occurred to her, when they had been there, that she would miss them when they were not. But she did.

And staring around the room Kojishi couldn�t think of something that would make the emptiness less acute.

A long while later, she lay down and closed her eyes, letting the tiredness take over, willing herself not to think.

Don�t break.

Kojishi woke with a start, and when she tried to think about why, precisely, she had woken up, she couldn�t, for the life of her, remember. No great and consequential happening had occurred in her dreams, and no noise loud enough in the present world had sounded. Then why had she woken so suddenly?

Sitting up, she blinked to clear her vision, which was blurry. Kojishi stretched her legs, which felt oddly cramped. Everything felt oddly cramped. The room was too small, the bed too hard. Shapes swarmed around her, unfamiliar shapes, visages of things she didn�t recall being in her room. But then again, as she wasn�t in her own room, it wasn�t too surprising, was it?

And then it came back to her. The soldiers, the war, little Hana�s death... everything. Why she was here, in this unfamiliar, hard bed, odd room, strangely quiet place. It was all clear, as her vision cleared with a snap. Of course. Of course�

The disturbing thoughts and memories that were filling her mind once more were shut out, now, for Kojishi found that thinking, in general, led to no good. Kojishi could have thought and thought, but it did nothing, and so, she gave it up to explore the sounds of subdued voices that she could hear right outside her window.

With some difficulty, she pulled herself out of bed, pushing the covers off herself, and set her feet on the cold floor. It was as though the weather had changed overnight. Everything was so much colder now, as though the frigidity had spilt over the Eastern Mountains like the Tzorkian soldiers. As she padded to the window in the yellow-orange glow of the late afternoon, Kojishi found herself pulling her clothes closer. She was still dressed in the night-dress that she had been wearing the previous night.

The voices by the window were becoming clearer, and Kojishi could recognize one as the voice of the old lady.

��asleep right now,� she was saying. �I think they should wake in some time. Sundown is close.�

�Well, anyway,� said the second voice, which sounded somewhat� familiar, but not exactly, �the horses are here. Oda brought them in a while back and I thought you should know.�

Frowning, Kojishi peeped out of the window, to find two women, one old and the other about as young as Kojishi herself, pegging up washed clothes on a clothesline to dry.

�Good,� said the old lady, shaking something white roughly, so that drops of water fell on the younger woman, who wrinkled her nose and wiped her face.

�Easy with that, Obaasan,� she said, half-amused.

�He�s a nice boy,� continued the old lady, not bothering to apologize. �Oda, I mean.�

�I know,� said the younger woman. �He�s your grandson, after all.�

But she seemed to be speaking a little guardedly, even to Kojishi, who was standing several feet higher. The older lady didn�t seem too put off by this, because she continued, unhesitatingly. �But, Junko, are you sure he would make a good husband?� she asked, in her loud, sharp voice.

�Softer, Obaasan,� said the girl, looking around anxiously. �He could hear��

�Well, he should!� said the old lady, with no intention of reducing her volume. �He�s your��

�I know!� cried Junko, frustrated. The old woman looked at her sharply, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. �I know, alright? But now? Do you really think this is a good time�?�

�Never so good a time as the present,� grunted the old woman, shaking another white something vigorously.

�Oi!� said Junko, annoyed and amused at the same time. �Watch it,� she said, wiping her face on her sleeve and looking up.

As she did, she caught sight of Kojishi, who, caught eavesdropping, had the decency to blush and smile, before disappearing into her room, feeling a bit like a gossip-monger. While she knew it was really not any of her business, it was � well, it was entertaining. Serious state of affairs and all that be hanged. Who had Junko not told of her upcoming marriage? Who was Oda, and was he really as bad a potential husband as Obaasan made him out to be?

A knock on the door made Kojishi jump. The door opened, and Junko came in with some coarse, brown clothes in her hands, much like the rags Kojishi�s mother had threatened to throw out, only a little less ragged. �You must be the princess,� said Junko, smiling. �Did you have a good rest?�

When Kojishi came down, she looked, and felt, very like �one of the people�, in her �disguise�. Junko had plaited her hair for her, her hands moving deftly and making a simple and neat presentation of Kojishi�s long, and usually unmanageable, black hair. �You have lovely hair,� the young woman had said, a little wistfully, although Kojishi really couldn�t imagine why she sounded that way. Junko was a small, but strong looking, young woman, with the kindest brown eyes Kojishi had ever seen, and features that were very striking. She wasn�t conventionally pretty, but there was something deeper than struck one when looking at her. And if that wasn�t enough, she had a very soft, somewhat melodious sort of a voice.

The young woman seemed like someone who knew how to take care of herself and needed nothing in the way of a husband to help her out. Kojishi�s opinion of husbands was not very favorable, to say the least. The only man she had seen in a role like that was her father, and her father, while dutiful, was not particularly gentle or caring. He did not fulfill the romantic role that Kojishi�s novels prescribed for husbands in general, and she had taken to the belief that husbands of all shapes and sizes weren�t particularly useful in the real life, unless one needed to be taken care of.

So why was Junko marrying at all, when she seemed like such a level-headed and strong person on her own?

Kojishi didn�t think she was close enough to the young woman to ask, and didn�t like to pry. Already, she felt a little nosey for having listened in on the conversation from above.

�Here you are,� said the old lady, as Kojishi walked into the dining room. �Jin only just woke up. Have some tea.�

But before Kojishi could say she didn�t want any tea, thank you very much, the door slammed open and a ridiculously tall young man walked in. �Are they here?� he asked, without obligatory greetings of any sort. �Did you get the horses? I sent them in with Junko. Is she here?� He didn�t seem to notice Junko standing beside the stairway, or Kojishi sitting at the table, and was looking directly at the old lady, who glared at him.

�Good evening to you as well,� she said, rather pointedly, in her sharp voice.

The young man cleared his throat. �Yes, yes,� he said, impatiently. �Are they here?� He raised his voice slightly. �And Junko� where�?�

�They�re here. They�re resting. Be quiet��

�And Junko?�

�I�m here, Oda,� said Junko, in a placating, calm voice, and Kojishi looked upon the tall man in a new light. So this was Oda. How very� contrary to what Junko seemed to be.

�Oh!� said Oda, and looked relieved. �I was worried about you, you know,� he began again, in somewhat louder-than-necessary tones. �And��

�Oda!� cried old lady, frustrated. �Be quiet!�

�Okay, okay, woman, you don�t have to yell,� said Oda, raising his hand, and grinning cheekily at the old lady.

�Don�t call me that!� said the old lady, annoyed. �I�m your grandmother! Show some respect.�

�Yes, yes, Grandmother,� there was hint of amusement in the young man�s voice.

Kojishi chuckled, and then wished she hadn�t, for both Oda and his grandmother turned on her with expressions of amusement and tremendous aggravation on their respective faces. �What are you chuckling at?� demanded the old lady, glaring at Kojishi.

�Obaasan!� said Junko, in a hushed voice. �She�s the princess!�

�So?� said the old lady, almost mutinously, and walked out, leaving a much abashed Kojishi in the room.

�Oh dear,� she began, but Oda cut her off.

�So you�re the princess!� he said, sounded delighted. �You look much like any of us. And don�t worry about the woman;� he waved in the general direction of the kitchen, �she�s moody.�

Kojishi looked at him, wondering whether to take him at his word or to feel ashamed, but Junko smiled and shook her head, and so did she.

By the time Jukodo woke up and walked into the room, the room was filled with the orange glow of the setting sun, and Oda and Kojishi were talking like long lost friends, while Junko cleaned the table and helped her Obaasan out in the kitchen.

Despite Kojishi�s misgivings about a �to be husband�, she found it surprisingly easy to be around Oda, who was genuinely cheerful at all times, and didn�t make a big issue out of Kojishi being a princess. After Junko, who had seemed extremely aware of this fact about Kojishi, Oda was a refreshing change. It was, at all times, pleasant to be spoken to like a normal person.

And Oda�s generally funny disposition soon had Kojishi grinning and laughing, which was also always a good thing. Junko saw this, and smiled, for it would do the princess good. She wasn�t one to believe in hanging on to one�s sorrows, and Kojishi had seemed as though she had several.

Jukodo, as he walked in, seemed utterly unmoved to find Kojishi chattering away to Oda, Junko putting in a word or two here and there, and the three of them laughing like there was no tomorrow.

�Oh hello,� said Kojishi, as she caught sight of Jukodo.

Jukodo nodded, not smiling, somehow evading the agreeable contagion of happiness in the room. He poured himself a glass of water, and swallowed it down, before proceeding to pour himself another glass.

�Did you sleep well?� asked Junko, quietly, from beside him.

�Hn,� said Jukodo, nodding. There was an awkward silence. At least, it was awkward for everybody except Jukodo, who did not seem bothered in the least.

�Tea?� asked Junko, looking at Jukodo, who nodded slightly, before turning to Oda, who was uncharacteristically quiet, for some reason or the other.

�What are you doing here?� asked Jukodo, dark brown eyes glittering in the orange glow of the sunset.

Oda frowned. �I came to see if Junko got the horses down here all right,� he said, not bothering to hide the trace of guardedness in his voice. �Why?�

But the protector didn�t reply, shaking his head and drinking the rest of the water in his glass. �We�ll be leaving in sometime,� he said to Junko. �Can you wake the boy?�

Junko nodded and left the room, leaving behind an even more awkward silence in her wake.

�Where are you going?� asked Oda, and Kojishi nearly sighed with relief, for she had become almost desperate to hear something, because silence, of any sort, seemed too burdensome at the moment. Jukodo turned his dark eyes to Oda, and for a moment, Kojishi thought he would say something annoying, like �safety� once more. But he didn�t.

�To the Summer Palace,� said Jukodo, and seemed as though he wanted to add something more to that, but Oda interrupted him.

�Oh,� said Oda, biting his lip and wondering what to say next. The tension between the two of them was unmistakable, and Kojishi couldn�t help but wonder why the generally talkative Oda was so quiet around Jukodo. What had Jukodo done to him? she suddenly wondered, for that was the only explanation she could come up with. That Jukodo had done something nasty to Oda.

Annoyed by the prospect of anyone doing something nasty to Oda, who seemed very pleasant, Kojishi glared at Jukodo, who remained utterly unfazed.

�That�s�� began Oda, but Jukodo seemed to have had enough of his attempts to make conversation, and walked out of the dining room and into the kitchen, to pour himself some more tea from the pot.

�Not very conversational, is he?� said Kojishi, softly, but before Oda could add something to his distinctly anxious sort of a grin, Jukodo was back in the room.

�Do you know the fastest route to the Summer Palace?� he said, looking directly at Oda.

The taller man seemed to consider this. �Yes,� he said, a moment later. �But it�s not the safest.�

�Nothing will be safe tonight,� said Jukodo, mildly. �Where is this route? Can you tell me?�

Oda contemplated on this for a while before answering. �I can show you,� he said. �I�ll take you through it tonight.�

Kojishi shook her head. �That wouldn�t be too safe for you, Oda��

�Nothing will be safe tonight,� said Oda, grinning, as he repeated Jukodo�s words. �No, really,� he said, patting Kojishi�s head, �I�ll take you. You�ll never be able to find it on your own.�

�But��

�No buts,� said Oda with conclusiveness, getting up and walking out through the back door. Kojishi stared after him for a moment, before turning to glare at Jukodo, who shrugged and walked out through the front door. Kojishi sighed.

Junko found Kazu wide awake in bed, lying on his back and staring blankly at the ceiling. This was utterly unsurprising to her, for she had not really expected someone who had suffered a great loss like Kazu�s to be able to sleep, really. Though, in all honesty, sleep was something that he truly looked as though he needed. His wide, reddened eyes told the tale even if the expression of exhausted defeat did not. Sleep would have helped him heal, but she could honestly not blame him.

�Are you awake, then?� asked Junko, kindly, quite willing to allow him to have his privacy. He didn�t look as though he wanted to talk about his troubles; not to her, a complete stranger, at any rate. The boy turned his gaze upon her, and she was almost taken aback by the lack of emotion in it. But she recovered quickly, and pressed on. �They�re waiting for you downstairs� I think you are to leave soon.�

�Leave,� said Kazu, not questioningly, though Junko, for lack of anything to say, chose to give him an answer anyway.

�Yes,� she said, moving about the room and moving a few things back into place. �To the Summer Palace, I gather.�

�Oh,� said Kazu, looking around even more blankly, as though it really didn�t matter where they went to him. As though they could very well have taken him to Tzorke and left him there, for all he cared.

�Yes,� said Junko, a little awkwardly now. �Your clothes are over there.� She pointed to the small bundle of clothes upon a stool by the wall. �They�re waiting,� she added, a moment later, and left, almost in relief.

A few minutes later, Kazu walked into the dining room, wearing the coarse, unevenly cut clothes that had been laid out for him. While he seemed to be somewhat cleaner than was normal for him, he was also, for some reason, tremendously untidy, hair absolutely messed up. It seemed as though he had put even less effort into his appearance than he normally did, which was very little to begin with. He looked unbelievably drawn and mostly apathetic towards everything, including the old lady, who looked up from her seat at the table beside Kojishi, and narrowed her eyes at the way Kazu looked.

�You,� she said, looking at him like a predator, �are a mess.�

Kazu looked at her with mingled surprise, irritation and the exhaustion. �Alright?� he said, a moment later, as though he didn�t particularly see how this mattered.

�Don�t you say �alright� in that sulky way,� said Oda�s grandmother, sharply, glaring at him. It seemed to Kojishi that the old lady didn�t particularly care who she was talking to, and treated everyone in the same manner. Which was pleasant, even though she was anything but pleasant. It was just rare to see someone not bother about rank and social status, even if it was rather in appropriate of her to scold someone who was so obviously grieving. �I will not have you looking like that in my nice, clean clothes.�

The former pickpocket looked like he was going to snap at the old lady, and tell her exactly what she could do with her clothes. He didn�t. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. ��Nice�?� he asked, with a mildly incredulous air. �Really?�

�Ungrateful brat!� said the old lady, and to Kojishi, who had been watching the small interaction between Kazu and her with apprehensive eyes, she sounded somewhat triumphant. The wrinkled old woman stood up, and advanced upon Kazu, reaching out and gripping his left ear, to be rewarded with a small �ack!� of surprise and pain from the boy. �I�ll teach you how to respect your elders. Come!�

And she literally dragged him out of the room by the ear, Kazu yelping all the way out.

Kojishi stared after her in surprise, and then shook her head, as Junko came in. �Is she always like that?� asked the princess, unsure of whether to be amused or just astounded.

The brown-eyed woman smiled.

The pyres blazed fiercely, the rising smoke darkening further the sky stained a blood red, as though reflecting the scarlet stains the land, the tide of blood which had left the country drained of all thoughts of sanity and cheer. Cheer� the word in itself was a mockery of the terror that Lajandra was still recovering from.

The prince of Lajandra stood by the blazing pyres, wondering if he was to say something now. But there were no words. None. He could only stare at the hundreds of faces around him, all stained with tears, dirt and blood, that reflected the orange glow of the fires. There were people who couldn�t bear to stand any more, and sat on the blood-stained earth, weeping wordlessly. And all Kin could do was to stare at them and say nothing.

They said that over half the town was now in the blazing piles of bodies. They said that a woman, stricken by grief and madness over the death over her first born son, had thrown herself into the blazing pyres. He could still hear her screams, echoing through the city of Sairan, or perhaps that was just another memory, blazing away at the back of his head. Kin could not bear to speak now through the grief that had settled so heavily upon the people of his country and their anger and shock. For there was anger too, and shock, at being dragged out of their beds at night and being forced to watch their families being cut to pieces.

And right before Kin was his mother�s pyre. The General had been astounded by Kin�s order, given what seemed like an eternity ago. The exhausted soldiers had set to work, finding all the fuel they could, for there was a terrible number to be burnt. They had, with difficulty, carried all the dead to the large funeral pyre in the fields by the city, where they now blazed with great fury. The young prince had himself to carry his mother there, wordlessly laying her body upon the pile of wood. Her body was the only one who had been given a separate pyre� the rest had been piled together in a number of piles far fewer than the number dead, and burnt; there wasn�t enough wood.

Kin closed his eyes, and bit his upper lip, before lowering his head.

What could he say?

What could anyone say?

�General,� he murmured, finally, motioning for the old General to come closer, his voice tight. When the older man was close enough, he murmured, �Secure the city. Put your men on guard at all the watchtowers, and close the gates.�

The General nodded, and turned, giving the order to Michiru, one of his captains. Kin, looked at the fires once more. He bit his lip again. What would father have done? His father would have spoken solemnly and kindly, given them understanding words and reassurance. But Kin had no reassurance to give them. He himself did not understand, and words, it seemed, were not enough to express the sorrow.

Kin�s eyes searched the crowd for the beggar boy who had tried to tell them of the soldiers waiting in the forest, and when he didn�t see him, he lowered his gaze. He could not promise them that they would all make it through this, or even say that it was over. For it was not over. Kin couldn�t understand the scale of this attack, but news of many other villages being attacked was beginning to come in. So many people had died, so many villages left soaked with blood. And his father� Kin tried not to think about that. His father, who was in Lamarke, with the traitorous Gushiken� what about him? Had the messenger reached?

So many doubts. The smoke from the funeral pyres tickled Kin�s nose, and he lowered his head, and knelt, out of respect, and an inability to stand. He felt as though his bones would shatter under the burden he had come under all too suddenly. As though he would break before he could do anything. He couldn�t remember his own words to his sister. Those were of no comfort to him, for he was not sure if he could keep standing.

For now, he closed his eyes and wept silent tears of sorrow and the loss of a loved one, of freedom, of choice and of faith.

And Lajandra wept with him.