The baby was crying.
Sakura rocked the child in her arms, humming a tune under her breath. Then she wiped the sweat off her forehead. It was cool in the cellar, but trying to calm nine children, most of whom were frightened, the rest of whom were extremely frightened, had taken a toll on her.
They'd been in there for nine days.
Seven days ago, Nadeshiko, Sakura's mother, had come with servants to bring them food and blankets, telling her that they might have to spend another few days in the cellar. And Sakura was forbidden to go out, much less take the children out, unless being in the cellar somehow put their lives in danger. No one had entered the cellar since then.
Nine days ago, Fujitaka, Sakura's father, had told her to take the children and hide in the cellar. Fort Kinomoto had two cellars. One was used for storing food; the other had a hidden entrance and was used as shelter, for times of war.
Twelve days ago, the fort had been attacked. Sakura had only seen a glimpse of arrows flying over the walls before she had been hustled inside by Nadeshiko. Nadeshiko, like the previous women of the Kinomoto family, was a magic-user, able to help with the war effort. Her daughter, Sakura, had no aptitude for magic.
"It's all right," she whispered. "We'll be able to leave soon." All the children were children of the Kinomoto branch families - her cousins, or nieces and nephews. Sakura was the child of the main family, and the oldest one in the cellar - sixteen.
Nine days. They were running out of food. There were candles left, but while Sakura had been sleeping, the oldest child - only twelve - had accidentally fallen asleep as well, and so there was no flame to light the candles. And of course, Sakura had no magic to make light.
One of the children was less than six months old. There was no one to breast-feed her. As usual, the Kinomoto family never employed servants or nursemaids. So, all the women, including the mothers, had gone out to fight. All of them except for Sakura, who couldn't.
The cellar stank. There was a barrel in the corner for taking care of one's business, but there was no way to hide the smell. And no one had taken a bath in nine days. There were no spare cloths; it was difficult enough to change the undergarments of a six-month old in the dark, much less find a way to make it stop smelling.
The wailling of the baby increased in volume.
"Takashi," Sakura said, calling the oldest child to her.
"Right here," he said, nearly next to her ear. She rocked the baby in her arms for a few more moments.
"Take Chiharu. I'm going to go out and find more food and blankets."
"Don't forget some more water," he said, taking Chiharu from her. She sighed inwardly, glad to be rid of the burden. Strangely enough, Chiharu settled down in his arms, ceasing to cry. Ever since his failure to keep the fire lit, he had become much more reliable in helping her take care of the others.
"Diapers for Chiharu," piped another voice: Naoko, who was only eight, and who was annoyed that she was the only other one who had to change diapers - on virtue of being the only other one that knew how.
"Flame for the candles,"
Sakura sighed aloud. "You all are more used to being in here than I am."
"Of course," Takashi said, sounding as though he were grinning. Though he'd been as scared as anyone, his good humor had helped cheer the children up many times over the past few days. "We used to hide in the other cellar all the time when Aunt Nadeshiko would chase us around trying to get us to eat our vegetables."
"All of you, be quiet now," Sakura said, standing up. Her legs were cramped from sitting for too long, but she ignored the twinges of pain and reached above her head for the entrance. "You must be absolutely quiet until I get back."
Her hands encountered the ridged stone that was the only entrance and exit into the hidden cellar. "Open," she whispered.
The stone vanished. A tiny bit of light poured into the cellar; the door to the closet that she'd crawled into was closed.
She pulled herself up and out of it. The children stayed silent, no doubt persuaded by their fear. When she rolled over to the side away from the entrance, the stone reappeared, once again hiding the entrance to the cellar.
Then she heard a voice.
It came from the hallway outside. Someone was standing near the closet.
"We're almost done." That voice sound familiar. "I've checked all the bodies, and there's some missing. It's unlikely that anyone got out. Judging by the pattern of the corpses lying about, they were completely surrounded."
"The missing ones... Probably kidnapped," said an unfamiliar voice. "That may be unlucky or lucky. Kidnapping might be a worse fate than dying in this massacre."
Sakura's knees crumpled with simultaneous relief and fear. The voices were soldiers, and not the enemy, from the sounds of it. And yet... this massacre. The unfamiliar voice had said it so coldly, so detached from her own feeling of fear, that she shivered. These people must have been reinforcements...
Reinforcements that hadn't come on time. The voices seemed to fade out of her hearing.
A wave of nausea flooded over her. She gasped, falling to her knees. The stench was stronger now, worse than anything had been in the cellar.
The voices, now urgent, echoed dimly in her ears. Sakura fell to all fours and began to vomit. That smell is... No, it can't be...
Light flooded into the closet.
Then two figures pulled her upright. She swayed on her feet, though the hands gripping her arms supported her strongly. With a mighty effort, Sakura forced her heaving stomach to stop. Now the air around her smelled strongly of vomit.
"Who are you?" the unfamiliar voice asked.
She stared up at the speaker, into cool brown eyes that seemed unperturbed at her appearance, however disgusting and ragged she was.
"They're all dead, aren't they?" she said.