"The wounds that never heal can only be mourned alone."
— James Frey

Quisling

She'd rather be cold.

Hollowness felt cold, and Chikane wanted to feel hollow instead of warm.

It burned.

A smear across her chin, globulets on her hands…the blood burned like cooling acid, and yet Chikane could not stir herself enough to rub them off, because it was her blood.

**O**

Chikane gasped, her eyes fluttering open. Coarse strands brushed across her face, and a rhythmic wavering beneath her slowly woke her cold body back to her surroundings.

"You," Chikane murmured, her limp hand tensing and stroking her horse's shoulder. She didn't have the energy to sit herself upright from her sprawled position, but if her horse had brought her this far without spilling her, then Chikane was probably safer where she was instead of trying to move around.

She shivered.

Remembering hurt, but she couldn't not remember.

Himeko and that…that boy, kissing.

Himeko dead.

She flinched.

Remembering hurt.

But at least that time, she was the one who had Himeko in her arms.

But no! Chikane would rather Himeko alive, than dead with her…But why would Himeko have to be dead? Couldn't they—

Himeko and that boy, kissing.

Chikane stilled, feeling what little heat she had regained seep out of her heart.

No, Himeko would not be with Chikane and be alive in this life; because she loved that boy. It wasn't even that Himeko was straight. But that she already loved someone else.

So there would be no chance, no alternative…no hope.

A tear welled in Chikane's eyes. And that sensation brought back the nightmares.

**O**

She couldn't cry.

Chikane couldn't cry. Because Himeko looked so peaceful, with a small smile on her face, and Chikane never wanted to make her love worry. She held Himeko close, so close that long locks of blonde hair flowed over Chikane's knees. So close that the fading warmth from Himeko's body could almost sink in deeper than the surface of Chikane's skin.

She kissed her.

Himeko's lips were cold.

And so was Chikane, cold and hollow.

A tear burned its way down Chikane's cheek, down to where Himeko's lips were pressed against hers, and then Chikane felt nothing at all.

**O**

There was some new emotion stirring inside Chikane.

She wasn't quite sure what it was. It was numb, yet she could tell that it was stronger than anything she had ever felt before. It was odd, that something so cold and empty could feel so intense. Chikane couldn't put a name to it.

You killed her.

In a past life.

You killed her.

Chikane hadn't wanted to. She couldn't think of how her past self could have done it. She couldn't think of what could have convinced her, or someone who was like her in any way, to thrust a sword blade through Himeko.

It wasn't possible.

Maybe those images had been remnants of Miyako, lurking inside the dark corners of Chikane's mind. Chikane jerked, nearly upsetting her balance on her horse's back as they plodded along the ocean-side path. Queasiness seared her insides when she glimpsed the reflective flash of moonlight on the far away waters of the quiet sea, too much like a ray on a mirror. But there was no Miyako. Not even the shadow of Oogami's mecha could be seen, and yet Chikane felt herself trembling violently.

Himeko had been hers, once.

Sometime long ago, in another life, Chikane had been with Himeko. They had loved each other.

Yet what of it? Himeko had died in the end.

I killed her.

Chikane closed her eyes.

I killed her.

Maybe that was why Chikane had not been put together with Himeko in this lifetime. In their last, she had betrayed her lover at the end. This was penance for that sin…In this life, Chikane had to bear the burden of forbidden love.

Fitting, in a way.

Chikane deserved it. She deserved the emptiness, the cold, the despair. Everything she had built in her life, all the goals and challenges she had strived for and defeated, were her attempts to fill that curious, puzzling void in her chest. Chikane had never known why she had felt that way, why every day brought an instant of panic and anxiousness as she tried to remember why she hated herself so much.

Now she knew.

It wasn't just the forbidden love, the secret yearnings.

Guilt.

Chikane had placed the demon's mask over her face, as if that could have somehow absolved her of the pain of staring into her lover's eyes when she had stabbed her to save the world. There was no absolution for someone like her.

She could practically feel Himeko's blood on her hands. Shakily, Chikane swiped at her chin, but the only wetness on her palm was sweat.

The wavering pace beneath her changed and Chikane realized that her horse had stepped onto a different surface through the harder jolts travelling up her beast's legs and into her sprawled form. Pavement, she guessed, from the sound under his metal shoes. She must be close to home.

Otoha couldn't see her like this. Chikane bit her lip, and seized two handfuls of mane and slowly pushed herself up.

**O**

She pushed herself off of Himeko, shivering at the slither of bare flesh between them. It was a dream Chikane often had, where she and Himeko lay together like lovers under silken sheets and on soft, beaten in pillows.

Was it a dream? Or could it have been a memory? Was it real, or nothing but the longings of Chikane's desperate mind?

This time when Chikane looked down, she saw a blood trail dripping from Himeko's mouth—the girl was dead.

I killed her.

**O**

Chikane blinked, and found herself in front of the Himemiya mansion. When had that happened? Things were mixing together in her head. The night was cold but she couldn't shiver through the numbness that had gathered underneath her skin.

She had to move, or Otoha would worry, and ask questions Chikane did not want to answer.

She had no words for the emptiness, for that strange nebulous emotion she struggled to identify.

Now she remembered what it meant to be a Priestess of the Godless Month.

Was it a joke from the gods? Did they laugh to see a human heart broken time and time again? What did they gain from seeing love sacrificed for something lesser like a billion lives?

How were the gods Chikane and Himeko served any different from the Orochi?

What was the point?

What held Chikane to the arcane rules laid forth before them?

Love, she admitted. Duty, honour, a sense of responsibility…

And yet that same love was the price asked of Chikane to sacrifice, and it wasn't even the loss of that love that lay like a fallen stone in Chikane's heart. It was the betrayal.

Her betrayal to Himeko.

The gods' betrayal to them for asking that high price.

Himeko's betrayal to Chikane—

(—for dying, having the easier burden)

(—for not loving her in this life)

—for asking Chikane to kill her.

Chikane paused in unsaddling her grazing horse, holding absently onto a buckle. She loved Himeko. She was in love with Himeko, and yet she could not have the blonde. Things were not the same this time around as they had been in the past. Himeko did not love her.

What did it mean, if things were different this time?

Chikane tried to think. It was more difficult than she had thought. Normally, she had a quick mind.

The answer would come to her, Chikane was sure.

Could she kill Himeko this time without guilt? Was killing an unrequited love comparable to killing a lover?

Chikane walked up the front steps to the mansion, each step driving another nail into her heart. Of course it was comparable. Himeko…was Himeko, whether she loved Chikane back or not. None of it diminished Chikane's love for the girl. And love transcended all things—even if she had wanted to, Chikane could never outrun the guilt.

And she didn't want to.

She realized that now.

That was her punishment, her torture, the albatross around her neck—Chikane should never forget her sin. Forgetting her sin meant forgetting the depth of her love too.

"Ojou-sama!" The doormaid squeaked as she opened the door for Chikane. Chikane wasn't sure what she said; she probably smiled and said something inane as she usually did, but it seemed like she couldn't quite sound normal as the maid became quiet and curtsied, vanishing quickly. Nearly instantaneously, Otoha appeared, her golden eyes wide in worry.

"Ojou-sama? Please, let me help you upstairs…"

Otoha was here now. She'll take care of things.

That would not do, part of Chikane told her, and distantly, Chikane recognized it to be truth.

Chikane did not deserve for things to be "alright." She had to atone.

This was the Godless Month.

She and Himeko had a duty to perform…

Things were different this time.

Things will be different this time.

And just like that, Chikane realized that she knew what she had to do.

**O**

I am Orochi.

Dragon, destroyer, God of Eight Necks…

Orochi devours.

Born of misery and hatred, Yamata no Orochi fills the void with suffering.

**O**

The Priestesses battle Orochi in the Godless Month.

**O**

I am Orochi.

**O**

The Priestesses defeat Orochi in the Godless Month…

**O**

"Thank you, Otoha-san," Chikane said, and while she regretted that her pleasant tone caused a jolt of alarm and worry to come to Otoha's eyes, she continued, "Please, enjoy having the rest of your night off. Good night, Otoha-san."

"Oj—"

Just as pleasantly, Chikane repeated, "Good night, Otoha-san."

Otoha hesitated, then lowered her head and curtsied. "Yes, Ojou-sama."

**O**

The hollow was being filled with something, Chikane observed apathetically. She was no longer as cold, although that had little to do with the warm room she was in.

The girl in her wished that she could cry.

But Chikane had no tears anymore. That void in her chest swallowed all emotion, leaving behind only their ghostly shells. None of it was enough to stir up anything like tears.

Good.

Emptiness was giving way to purpose, flooding Chikane's mind with stinging thoughts. Every idea of her gathering plan burned at the numbness under her skin, and Chikane welcomed the sensation.

She could not let Himeko see her this way.

That was of paramount importance.

She had to bury herself under a custom mask, one that even Himeko could not see through. The mask she wore as Chikane Himemiya would not do.

She needed the Chikane-chan mask. She needed it to cover up the Chikane that she really was…the Chikane she had discovered, after remembering all of herself. She needed to cover the empty pits in her soul, so that Himeko would never suspect…so that Himeko could live and be happy.

Chikane walked over to the window, watching the moon from behind the glass.

Soon.

Soon, Himeko.

She had decided her path.

Chikane finally recognized the unknown new emotion that had taken her over entirely. No wonder she had been confused—the sensation's identity had been blurred by anger and sorrow before. However, her new-found purpose had stripped aside all extraneous feelings, so that now she could identify the numbness that had filled her very core.

But for Himeko's sake, Chikane could not stop.

Besides, despair was a privilege Chikane did not deserve anymore.