(TW for suicide baiting towards the end)

XI

Age 14

"Rhajat!"

Sharp claws swiped her away from the edge, pulling her back against the weight of her body. Behind her, she heard a soul-shattering wail.

"Bastards!" a familiar voice keened. She tore into the forest, flying into the dense thicket of leaves as only a ninja could, slicing through the rogue's who attacked her family and murdered her husband.

The sounds of battle continued to rage around her, but when Rhajat tried to stand her knees buckled. She collapsed in a dusty heap, shirt and trousers soaked from the blood flowing from her open wounds. She wanted to sink into the earth. With trembling hands, she covered her eyes and waited for another dragon spirit to come finish her off.

The orange glow of the Sun was suddenly cut off—and for the very first time, Rhajat didn't care. The flat nothingness she had feared for so long would be an upgrade from what she had just seen. Her beloved father, the only constant in her life. He couldn't be gone. There was still so much left for him to do. He still had to reunite with her mother. He was only 31, not a wrinkle or trace of grey in sight. A master magician. The hand that guided her. How could someone so magnificent be falling past—

The wind slashed around her violently, same as back home or when an animal spirit was summoned. Something soft brushed against her thigh. Startled, she peeked open her left eye and could make out the crude contrast between the bright sky above and the darkness around her. Her breath caught in her throat—did it finally happen? Did her eyes finally give out, allowing the perception of light to slip away?

Another familiar voice rose above the clashing of weapons, bringing her back. "A dragon spirit? Like I haven't seen one of those before!" Prince Shiro bellowed. "Come now, impress me!"

"Focus!" Asugi hissed.

The soft thing that brushed against her earlier jerked suddenly, barely suppressing a yelp. Rhajat's warm shield coiled around her even tighter, swallowing her in a furry embrace. Realization settled into her immediately, along with guilt. Selkie was here. Selkie had transformed. Selkie pulled her from the edge. Selkie just got hit because of her.

And Rhajat was supposed to be her shield. What a joke.

Rhajat felt the thrum of the earth beneath her move in time with Prince Shiro's heavy steps; he let out a battle cry, rushing forward and through something. Shockwaves of magical energy pulsed through the air, remnants of the dragon moving past them and away.

There was a rustling through the trees. And then, silence.

"What's wrong? You don't wanna play anymore?" Prince Shiro sounded caught between amusement and rage. A moment of tense silence passed. In a lowered voice, he asked Asugi if the attackers were indeed gone.

"Yup. Eleven of the nineteen escaped, and—"

Prince Shiro sucked his teeth. "You serious? We gotta go catch them!"

"No use, they're all gone." His voice was flat with cheerless resignation "Don't look at me like that. You know I'm always right."

Selkie uncoiled himself. Rhajat slowly opened her eyes to simple brightness, to bright Sun and blue skies. Her view was swarmed with glistening eye floaters; Rhajat blinked hard to rid herself of them. Selkie placed a paw on her head, her touch gentler than Rhajat would have guessed. "Are you okay?" the princess whimpered.

"Goddamn, Selks. What a question."

In any other context she would have glared at Princes Shiro, presumptuous ass that he was. Instead, she slowly rose to her feet, leaning on Selkie's massive frame to keep herself from falling. She could see the outline of crumpled bodies littering the walkway and wished, by all the gods of darkness and light that dwelled in the Underworld and the Heavens above, that all nineteen of them had fallen.

"Talk, worm!"

Still holding on to Selkie, Rhajat took a step forward into the blurred mass of colors before her. The voice belonged to Kagero, the moon of her life—and she was beyond fury. "Filthy scum, tell me! Who sent you?!"

She hit her hostage; he cried out, but said nothing.

"Useless," Asugi murmured under his breath. Raising his voice, he said, "Master, there's no point! A ninja never reveals their client!"

"This one will once I'm through with him."

"So you're willing to sacrifice your honor for some no-good cause?!"

"'Honor'?" Kagero sneered. "Child, let me tell you where chasing honor has gotten me: separated from my family, forced to lie at the feet of a madman while he bathed Raijinto with the blood of widows and orphans. You want to talk about honor? Ryoma took my honor from me, and I allowed it because I feared for my husband and daughter back home. And now that Hayato has been murdered you mean to stop me from avenging him?!" A loud crash, a muffled cry. If Rhajat had to guess, she'd say her mother just slammed her hostage's face into the ground. "Not on your life. This man will tell me everything."

Kagero just insulted the recently dead king while his son and niece were in earshot. There was a small part of Rhajat that was alarmed by this, but by and large she couldn't bring herself to care.

And apparently, neither did Prince Shiro. "I get how you feel, Kagero, and I… I support you. But there are better ways to do this."

"This is what I've trained my entire life for. There are no better ways than mine."

"Trust me, there are. I know someone who specializes in breaking prisoners—ninjas included." Prince Shiro yanked the hostage to his feet. "Let's get back to the palace. It'll take a few days for the warden to get to Shirasagi, and in the mean time you and Rhajat can… catch up."

Kagero didn't answer—perhaps just then remembering that the very person Hayato gave his life to protect was still there, wounded but alive. Selkie was still in her beast form coiled around her. Rhajat didn't dare look up at her mother, the shame of what had transpired just now settling in past all the shock and anger. She pushed past Selkie's tail to kowtow before Kagero. "Mother, forgive me," she begged, voice warbling beneath the strain of her emotion. "Forgive me, I'm so sorry. There's no excuse."

Kagero crouched down, petting Rhajat's head. "There... is nothing to be ashamed of. His life was already lost. He didn't want to drag you down with him."

"I should have been stronger."

"You did all you could. A man's fate is his fate." Kagero traced her fingers down Rhajat's cheek, hooking her thumb beneath her daughter's chin. "Rise. You know you never need to bow to me."

The walk to Shirasagi was a quiet one, save for the muffled begging of their prisoner.

"We can go back to the cliff once Uncle Ryoma's funeral is over," Selkie proposed once they reached the palace courtyard. Kagero, Asugi and Prince Shiro had taken a detour to Shirasagi's underground caverns, where their holding cells were located. "You know, to hold a memorial for your daddy?"

Selkie's suggestion didn't break Rhajat's stride. Her eyes were finally behaving again, save for some blurred edges, and she didn't much feel like having a heart-to-heart chat among the spider lilies. "Will I be staying in the same room as before?"

"Um, yeah. If th-that's okay with you."

"It is."

"Okay, w-we can get you settled in before dinner. Daddy wanted to talk to you as s-soon as you came to get you ready for your meeting with Uncle T-takumi… but it can wait, we still have—"

"Why wait? Let's meet now."

"Now?"

"Yes." She dared peer up at the princess from beneath her thick bangs, sharp sunlight pricking her retinas. What's wrong with that?"

Selkie balked. "Y-you…! You just got attacked an hour ago! Your dad—and you—you're still bleeding!"

"Then I'll visit a healer first."

"Healer yes, daddy no!" She grabbed Rhajat's uninjured arm and tugged her along. "You need time get through what just happened. You're in no condition to meet with my family!"

Rhajat bared her teeth. "Why? Would my condition disqualify me even more than my pitiable performance already has?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Rhajat fruitlessly tried to wretch herself from Selkie's grasp as she was dragged through the greeting hall, kitchen, and up the winding staircases that lead to the hallway her room was located in. Selkie kicked the door open and threw Rhajat down on the bed.

"You sure are tough on a girl who's just been attacked." Rhajat batted her eyelashes up at Selkie. "But I suppose playing rough is just in your nature."

"What's wrong with you?!"

"Nothing. I'm perfectly fine." Rhajat crossed one leg over the other, the hole in her trousers ripping even further. "Go find someone to heal me if you like. You're my soon-to-be liege, and my only choice is to submit to your will."

Selkie's eye twitched. She stuck her head out the open door, scanning the narrow hallway until someone happened upon it. "Hisame! It's me! Can you tell Mitama to come the guest room?!"

"Now isn't the best time."

"I don't care! Bring her here now!"

"Goodness, how forceful," Rhajat said once Selkie closed the door. She was moving too quickly for Rhajat to keep an eye on, the kitsune girl an amorphous blob of blonde and pink. "You may have what it takes to be queen after all."

"Shut up. I'm never gonna be queen."

"How can you be so sure? Uncles and aunties and mommies and daddies die every single day."

Selkie dragged her hands over her face. "… you know, they say the night Granddaddy Sumeragi died Uncle Ryoma was so upset he locked himself in the throne room and tore it to pieces. I was only a baby so I don't remember it myself, but he apparently screamed so loud people could hear him as far down as the courtyard." The kitsune girl ran her hand up her fox tail, fingers snagging on the ends that had been frayed during the bandit attack. "I guess now that uncle's dead I can finally say it out loud: I never believed those stories. I thought Uncle Ryoma didn't have any feelings. But then, if uncle never had any feelings then why did he bother saving Auntie Scarlet from the Nohrians? Why did he summon every doctor in the capital when Gramma Ikona was dying? Why did he spare the separatists instead of butchering them like everybody wanted? I've been turning all this over in my brain lately, what could have made him turn inside-out like he did, and… I don't know. I don't know. I don't know anything except maybe it was just grief."

"And?"

Selkie crossed her arms tightly. "And it means you acting like this isn't all that weird. If a king could flip out over losing his daddy, why can't you?"

Rhajat found the implication of Selkie's reasoning amusing. Hayato had died scarcely an hour ago, so he was still at the very beginning of his journey through the Spirit World to claim his place as an ancestor. He wouldn't be done for another 409 days—for 366 days in a year, 21 years it took land and sea to separate, 13 moon cycles, and the 9 great progenitor Gods who birthed all the rest. But she knew that if at the end of his journey he peered down on her from the celestial ledge to see she had become a monster, he wouldn't allow her such a pitiable excuse. Grief. What grief? The sky was still blue and the wind still rustled though the trees and her rainbow rings still encased the Sun and she still couldn't see straight. Grief wouldn't bring Hayato back, and so giving into it wasn't worth the potential corruption of her soul.

Life moves on.

"Are you mad at me?" Selkie whimpered.

Rhajat nearly groaned. She knew the princess meant well but by the Gods—

"It's okay if y-you are!" Selkie quickly added. "It's my fault this happened, so—"

"How in all the bloody hells is it your fault?!"

Selkie sputtered briefly, struggling to form a response. "You wouldn't have be-been on that road it if w-wasn't for me!

"Wrong. The new king is the one who summoned me early, so if anyone's—no." Rhajat bit her tongue. "The fault lies with the bandits and the damnable wretch who hired them."

"And I promise we'll find out who it was."

"Hmph. I find it hard to believe Prince Shito knows someone who can break ninjas."

"No, he really does! Warden Reina is in charge of this super-big prison down south where all they do is punish criminals all day. She's also apparently this big war hero, too… if she comes, it'll be her first time in Shirasagi since Granny Mikoto died."

"My, the prince really wants to summon her for my measly father?"

"Of course. You're one of us now."

"Your naivety is as endearing as ever," Rhajat purred. "I will never be one of you. My life is worth infinitely less, anyone would agree. How can you not see that?"

"I don't think your life is worth less than mine." Selkie's tone was matter-of-fact, bored even, the way one might drone on about the color of the sky or basic arithmetic. Her little princess—who had only ever left Shirasagi twice, whose entire world was the route between the palace and the hamlet, whose only real worry was ruffling too many feathers with her own restlessness—was so desperately sheltered, and a small, dark part of Rhajat suddenly wanted to toss Lord Kaden off a cliff and see what it did to her.

"What you think is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the social order that puts you and your family on top, and people like me near the bottom. Yes, yes, I'm heir to the Wind Tribe and all that, but we are a small, insignificant people whose population has never exceeded 15,000. I barely went outside and I've still seen everyone who lives on that Gods-forsaken patch of dirt at least once."

"Rhajat, don't say that—"

"Don't say that? It's true! A fact! I'd only be one of you if I married in, an even that's precarious, isn't it?" Rhajat leaned in, leering like a feral cat. "How is the former queen doing, anyway?"

Selkie froze at the mention of her aunt, her body language telling Rhajat all she needed to know. "We're doing everything we can for Auntie Scarlet. She's gonna be fine."

"Sure, if Auntie Oboro doesn't get her hooks in first. What, you thought I didn't know about that?" Rhajat blindly reached for the dressers edge, leaning on it to stand. She noticed a new assortment of hairpins on it, all manner of accessories she could not make out the details of. "Was it Queen Oboro who picked these out for you?"

"Yes," Selkie quivered.

"Before or after her ascension?"

"After." The princess's voice was even lower now.

Rhajat hummed thoughtfully, picking up one that appeared to be black but became grey upon closer inspection. "This is made of jet, a stone which aide through mourning. Perfect for funerals. I know we're supposed to wear white to your Uncle's service, but surly the new king wouldn't mind a little rebellion, wouldn't he?"

Selkie bit her lip. "We can wear whatever we want to your daddy's memorial serv—"

"No, we can't!" Rhajat took a sightless, staggering step in the direction of the princess. "Perhaps in your research you failed to learn how we in the Wind Tribe conduct our funerals. We wear sackcloth. We do not adorn ourselves. Some even go so far as to shave their heads. I won't be doing that—but you certainly can. Far be it from me to advise Her Highness." Rhajat looked down at the hairpin, saw the amorphous bird-like creature it was carved into. She absently stuck it in her hair. "I can wear it now, I guess."

"Maybe you should lie down."

"Lie down? No, fuck lying down. Where's Mitama? I don't want to keep your father waiting."

"I already told you," Selkie enunciated, "you're not seeing daddy today."

"Shouldn't he be the one to decide? I mean, he outranks you, right? Technically?"

"Daddy does what I ask him to do." Selkie clasped her hands behind her back. "And you're not seeing him. In fact, you're not even leaving this room!"

"Gods, this was what my father was afraid of. You're treating me like a slave, and I haven't even pledged to you yet!"

"I'm treating you like a friend. A slave would've gotten their butt whupped a long time ago."

"Perhaps that's what you need to do." Rhajat bent over slightly and cocked her hip, laughing at her own obscenity. "Come on Selkie, whip me!"

"You need to sit down and shut your mouth!" Selkie looked anxiously at the door. "Where's Miss Kagero when you need her…?!"

"Don't bring mother into this. She's a fine woman who just lost her husband."

Selkie glared at Rhajat. "I could sorta use her help right about now!"

"With what?"

"With you!"

"But we're just talking."

"You're acting weird!"

"But I thought that was okay, since I'm grieving or whatever nonsense you were spouting earlier."

"But this is something else. You're scaring me."

"I see. Would you prefer for me to tear this room apart? Wail loud enough for half the palace to hear me? If it's appropriate for a king, why not me?"

Rhajat drew in a long, deep breath—and before she could let out the loudest and bloodiest scream she could, Selkie tackled her.

They hit the edge of the bed before tumbling to the floor. Rhajat instinctively fought against Selkie's grasp, but pulling at the other girl's hair or beating against her chest was like fighting a brick wall. The princess clamped her large hand over Rhajat's mouth, leaning in with all her body weight.

"Stop it." Selkie's voice was low and dangerously controlled. Her pupils constricted, casting a sharp edge on her normally sweet, expressive face. "Stop it."

And what other choice did she have but to stop? (Shock her stab her burn her maim her.) Selkie slowly removed her hand.

"I suppose you are done now. Can we get on with the healing?"

Selkie yelped; Rhajat's heart seized in her chest. Mitama was standing at the doorway, her billowing shrine maiden wear touching either side of the door frame. Selkie scrambled to her feet, grabbing Mitama by the sleeve and pulling her inside. She slammed the door behind her. "Rhajat is hurt. Do something for once and heal her."

Mitama glared half-heartedly at Selkie before regarding Rhajat. "Greetings. Please go lie on the bed."

"No."

"Very well. I can heal you in any position."

"Don't bother." Rhajat sat up, and then slowly rose to her feet. "I feel fine."

Unfazed, Mitama raised her healing rod in spite and doused her with the faith magic she specialized in. Rhajat felt the edges of her wounds meld together until it was as if she'd never been hurt at all. "Normally I do not bother healing uncooperative patients, but I fear that right now Princess Selkie would maul me alive if I refused. And I do not feel like transcending the mortal plane today."

"Funny, you act as though you get a say when that happens," Rhajat cackled.

Mitama nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose you are right. What a dilemma… I suppose our only path to freedom is to take matters into our own hands. Tell me foreigner, have you considered killing yourself? I know I would if I were living with mental degeneration as severe as yours."

"Care to run that by me again?" Rhajat snarled.

"You heard what I said. Or perhaps you are possessed by a wicked spirit? Dealing in sorcery does present a certain risk. If this is so, my father can beat the demon out of you, though I cannot guarantee you'll survive the process." Mitama sighed. "But to be honest, I do not find you worth the effort. Killing yourself is definitely the best option for everyone."

"Mitama, that's enough!" Selkie barked.

"What are you waiting for?" Mitama continued. "The window is right behind you. Samurai fall on their swords if they dishonor their lords; you can do the diviner's equivalent. Go fall past the clouds for daring to enrage Princess Selkie so."

Selkie forced a laugh. "'Enrage'? I'm not mad at anybody."

"And I suppose you tackled Rhajat for fun?"

"Huh? No, not for fun. I did it… for…" Selkie shook her head. "It's none of your business. I'm a princess, I do what I do."

"And that is your right." Mitama clasped her hands over her midsection. Face as pretty and placid as a doll, she looked every bit the ideal maiden. "I was standing out in the hall for quite some time listening to your little exchange. You, Rhajat, are clearly not well. It is my humble opinion that if you are not willing to honorably take your own life, your next best option is to return with Kagero back to the Wind Tribe. Princess Selkie is truly insufferable… but you do not deserve her kindness."

"Mita, stop it. Her daddy died like an hour ago."

"And?"

"Why do I bother? She took Mitama by the shoulders and turned her around, all but shoving her out the door." You can go now. Dismissed."

Selkie slammed the door behind her. Once the shrine maiden was gone—across the hall and down the stairs where she belonged—she turned to Rhajat with a look that was almost soulless, almost forlorn. She slowly slid down to the floor.