starter memory: in this last of meeting places

[withalltheuntold]

Someday, you knew, that you would either have to part, or everything would have to change: when you had been assigned to teach him originally, you had known that this assignment was only temporary. Your whole life as a shrine maiden was always going to be temporary, because someday, not soon, but someday, your father would die, and you would succeed him. But you didn't ever think that this would happen, but here you are: the peasants of an entire domain have risen in rebellion against their lords and your student is their leader, though you're not sure how much he actually leads given his blindness. (Looking back, it was inevitable: everything stretched much too thin, but-)

And here you are. The storeroom is damp, and the old stone of the floor worn beneath your feet: you can see how thin their supplies are, even with what you managed to bring from your own household, concealed between layers of illusions. (They're running out of time). After a moment, you turn your attention to your student and ignore the sullen, silent third person in the room.

[-------] smiles, serene but worn around the edges: his eyes are, as usual, closed. He was always slender but looks much too slender and almost like a ghost in a white, embroidered furisode with his long black hair unbound: you think you can recognize the stitches in the garment, the hand of his other mother.

"I wish I could have done more." you say, refusing to stare down at your hands interlaced on your knees. You will admit to your failings right to his face, because it is the least that you can do. "This doesn't feel like anywhere near enough."

"You brought supplies." [-------] points out, reasonably. "That will help us for at least a little longer."

"I still should have done more." the taste of desperate failure is bitter on your tongue. "I went to each and every one of the daimyo out there, tried to appeal to them to back down. None of them would listen to me because what does a shrine maiden know of war? I wrote to my aunt, I wrote to my father, I wrote to everyone I could, and no one answered me." And now everyone here will die. What good is it being crown prince, without the authority to do anything, to force anyone to listen?

"You did the best with what you could." he says, and leans his head back for a moment, his eyes still closed. "Sometimes, that's all you can do."

I don't want this to be all I can do.

"Thank you for trying," he says, and his smile turns sad around the edges. "But you should know - I would always have died young, even if this had never happened."

"What do you mean?" you ask, clenching your hands tightly in your lap.

"Miracles have a price." he shrugs. "Have you ever heard of true sorcery?"

You'd heard of it, of course, in connection to the Sisters of the Twilight and their Name magic: you hadn't known of the miracles to be found in Singing until he explains it to you, and the fact that every Singer would inevitably sacrifice themselves as a requirement of their magic, die to bring forth one last miracle. and sometimes not even leave a body. That he'd used its power along with his powers as a shrine maiden to try to keep everyone alive, year after year, to grow enough food to both pay the taxes and have just enough to eat, when he'd still been a child, years before you'd come to teach him. That he'd used it along with his power as a shrine maiden to ward this castle against assaults. And he only has enough strength left, now, for only one more miracle.

"I can't Sing a miracle that is enough to save everyone." he says, quietly. "I don't have the right temperament to do something like drop a storm right on their army, or drop a mountain on them, or something equally destructive. I can't do it. Even to save everyone I ever loved. Everyone who saw hope in me...despite everything." he pauses. "If you were a true sorcerer, [-----], you could do it, I think. But I can't."

"Then what will you do?" you ask, finally.

"What kind of miracle will it take to make them understand the cost of what they have done?" he asks, his voice faraway for a moment.

You don't know. You can't imagine it.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" you ask, finally. He nods, small, quiet.

"Two things." ​ he says. "Take [------] with you when you go. You can't stay here, crown prince or no. "

You hadn't let yourself think about it, before, writing your frantic letters and running from one daimyo to the next, what it would mean with her by her brother's side. That she would die, too, and-

"Of course." you say, and bow your head. "And the other?"

"Promise me that you'll make our sacrifices worth it." he says, and you reach out to take his hand and bow your head.

"I promise." You already know the shape of the choices you will have to make, that you'd seen already, the path that you were too afraid to walk.

"Thank you." he says, and smiles, soft, sad.

(Neither of you can save the people following him. How many, again? Almost 40,000?) ​

This is the last thing you can do for him: you pull a hair ornament out of your sash and press it into his palm, close his fingers around it. You made it, layered protection spells on it, and bound a spirit into it that will allow you to see his end.

"[-----]?" [-------] asks, quietly.

"Wear it." you say, trying to keep your voice calm. "For protection."

"...I don't want [------] to see how I die." he says, quietly, his brows furrowing together slightly. "It's...more than enough that she'll know the exact moment I do."

"She won't see. Only I can." you assure him.

His expression smoothes out. "Thank you." he says, and smiles, pins the hair ornament on the left side of his head. "She's done her best to take care of me all our lives. There's...so little I can do for her now. You'll take care of her, won't you?"

"Of course I will. I promise." you say. There's so much you want to say, and so little time, and you reach out to clasp his hand, briefly. "...may we meet again, in our next lives."

"May we meet again." he echoes.



Effect:
FUCK.
Also I...guess I got the hairpin back after he died since I'm wearing it now. There's not even a trace of magic on it now. And what are the choices I know I'll have to make?

But also: FUCK.