Kyourin had thought, by the dimness of the sky, that she had only been unconscious for a few hours. Turns out, it was closer to a week. That first day after she woke up, she still spent most of her time sleeping. She did manage to eat a little. Somehow. It seemed to take great effort to chew and swallow. The next day she was a little better. She successfully was able to move her arms around and, after a nap, told Sekto she wanted to try playing kokki. Sekto went to get the supplies with hardly a word. She had been strangely quiet since Kyourin had gotten sick.
She found, when she tried playing, that it was harder than usual. It did take much more effort than usual just to lift her arm and place the stones. But it also felt like she wasn't doing as well. She was having a little bit of trouble concentrating. Halfway through the first game, the strength in her arm failed, and her hand came crashing down on the board, scattering the stones. Sekto said that was okay, and if she was too tired, they could stop. But Kyourin insisted she wanted to play another game so, without comment, Sekto picked up the stones so they could start again.
They were partway through the game when Kyourin suddenly said, "It's not fair."
"You and fairness," Sekto said with a sigh. "What's not fair?"
"Why do Kirin have to get blood sickness? It's not fair."
Sekto let out another sigh. "I know it isn't. But it's how Tentei made you."
"Well, Tentei is mean."
"Kyourin," said Sekto. Her tone of voice was odd, and Kyourin couldn't tell what sort of emotion would be behind it.
"No, really. Think about it. If a king loses the Way, or if there is no king, the people suffer. The fates of all people are tied to the choices of twelve. How is that fair? And us Kirin. Only we can chose the king. But when the king loses the Way, it's us that get sick and die. And even the sight of blood makes us helpless. How is any of that fair? Tentei is mean."
There was silence for a while. Sekto and Kyourin both placed a stone. "Those are quite the thoughts for an eight year old."
"I'm a Kirin. We're smart."
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that." Sekto let a few moves pass in silence, and Kyourin followed her lead. She didn't really have much else to say about that anyway. "Kirin are innocent."
"What?"
"Did you know in all kingdoms, it is literally impossible to charge a Kirin with a crime? This is not out of reverence. It's the simple fact that Kirin are incapable of committing a crime."
"I could if I wanted to."
"A nonviolent one, perhaps. But you would never want to," Sekto insisted.
"I suppose not," admitted Kyourin, a little reluctantly.
"And blood sickness is an expression of this innocence and purity, a very powerful one. Imagine if a Kirin weren't innocent. They wouldn't be able to properly represent the will of the people, and wouldn't be able to advise the king on how to keep the Way."
"I guess not. But why the sickness? Couldn't we just hate it? Instead it's scary. There's no reason for that, right?"
"Kirin are very powerful, what with their shirei and all. You could probably defeat a small army all on your own once you come into your full capability. If Kirin weren't afraid of violence, they could use this power to do pretty much anything."
"But we wouldn't, because we're innocent."
For a short moment, Sekto sat there blinking. "Well, I don't pretend to understand it. But think of the things Tentei has given us. He put an end to war."
"Only between kingdoms. Inside isn't punished."
"Well, yes. But if all the bad things in this world come from Tentei, so do all the good. You wouldn't be able to play around the way you do, if not for Tentei. You wouldn't be able to talk to people, you wouldn't have us and Enrin, or even Kasshi." At those words, Kasshi gave her a gentle hug. "If not for Tentei, we wouldn't be here playing this game right now. We wouldn't even exist. All things in this world exist in balance. To keep the good, you have to take the bad."
"I guess," Kyourin grumbled. "It's still not fair."
"Life never is."
"Are you sure that's something you want to be teaching a Kirin?"
Sekto let out a short laugh. "No, I guess not. Life may not be fair, but we can never give up hope that one day, with much trial and effort, it will be. That's the duty of a Kirin, to guide your king in creating such a kingdom."
"Okay, I get it."
"Good. Now, I pass." Kyourin passed too, even though she already knew she had lost. The points being counted was just to tell her how much she had lost by. They played a few more games, but eventually Kyourin got so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. It was getting pretty late in the evening, and she was still weak from blood sickness. Sekto managed to get her to eat something before she passed out. Again, she slept.
When she woke up the next morning, she had recovered even further. She had found herself able to stand on her own. For breakfast she walked all the way to the pagoda they usually ate in, though she had to lean on Kasshi a good portion of the way. Enrin was surprised to see her. She talked more than usual, inquiring how Kyourin was feeling, clearly worried for her, in her reserved sort of way. Kyourin was pretty sure Enrin had never had blood sickness before, but still, it was always Kirin who sympathized most with Kirin (save for a Kirin's own nyokai). They were a family, after all. In a manner of speaking.
A few days later, halfway through the people of En's stay in the meadow, Kyourin was mostly recovered. It took another week for Kyourin to convince the nyosen to let her back out of the inner palace. She wanted to at least say goodbye to In'ou before they all left, and maybe play shukukon again, now that she was recovered. This time, though, the nyosen insisted on giving her an escort; the group assigned to go with her included Sekto and Kashou. She wondered if it were to keep stupid people away from her, or to keep her from doing something stupid herself. It didn't really matter either way, she decided.
So, one morning, she again left the inner palace with Enrin and the nyosen. This time, after she had split off and on her way to In'ou's camp, people bowed down to the ground to her. That annoyed Kyourin a little bit. She wasn't their Taiho. Eventually, still walking a little slower than usual, she made it to In'ou and Rou's camp. As soon as she showed up, Rou paled a little and prostrated himself. In'ou just looked up from her book and smiled a little bit. "Aku."
"Hey, In'ou." While her nyosen made a wider circle around the camp, Kyourin moved to take a seat by In'ou. "Sit up, Rou. I'm not your Taiho."
In'ou, ignoring her husband, said, "I didn't expect to see you again. You were gone a whole two weeks."
"I was recovering from blood sickness."
"Blood sickness?" So Kyourin explained what had happened—the fight she had run into, how she had reacted to seeing the blood, how she had reacted to being touched by that man's bloody hands, how she had spent days in pain and fire. "Wow," In'ou eventually said as she wound down. "I didn't know Kirin were that adverse to blood."
By this time, Rou had managed to sit back up, but he wasn't making eye contact. Kyourin decided to follow In'ou's lead and ignore him too. "It's not pleasant."
"I should say not. Would you like some tea?"
"You really don't have to," said Kyourin, feeling suddenly embarrassed again.
"No, it's alright. Having tea with a Kirin has been the highlight of this trip. Be right back."
The entire time In'ou was gone, Rou didn't say a word, and Kyourin was too unsettled by the way he was not looking at her to say anything herself. Thankfully, In'ou returned before too long. They had their usual tea and conversation, about whatever. Eventually, when he realized nothing had changed, Rou joined in. It was nice. Kyourin liked talking to normal people, people who weren't there to serve her. It was different, and interesting. Besides, there were things to talk about other than her education, and being a Kirin, which always made things interesting.
When their tea was done, and Kyourin was about to run off to find the children, In'ou asked, "I never did ask: which Kirin are you? I don't remember which kingdoms are without one at the moment."
"Kyourin," she said immediately.
"Ah," said In'ou with a nod. "I remember now. It's a shame what happened." That it was. There had been a rebellion; a large group of civilians had stormed Maplefrost Palace, and had slaughtered the king, his family, a host of officials, and even Kyouki. "How do you write 'Aku'?"
Kyourin blinked for a moment, but took In'ou's hand and drew the characters on her palm while slowly saying the name aloud.
"Pretty," said In'ou with a nod. "And fitting. You should keep it."
Kyourin blinked some more. "Keep it?"
"Yeah. Keep it. I always thought it was sad that Kirin don't get real names. Even animals have names. I figure as long as you're with the common people, and outside of official functions, you can have a real name. What do you say, Aku?"
"In'ou," said Rou, "she can't—"
"Yes! Thank you!" Without even being able to see it, she knew her smile was wide and ridiculous-looking.
In'ou laughed. "You don't need to thank me for a name you gave yourself."
"Still, thank you."
For the rest of the shouzan, Kyourin fell into a sort of routine. She was Kyourin in the inner palace, getting ready for the day, eating breakfast. As soon as she reached the meadow, she was Aku. She had tea and talked with In'ou and Rou, along with a few of his soldier friends. They had been here long enough that they didn't smell like blood anymore. They were all interesting enough. She made a couple more adult friends around the camp over the days, though none as good as In'ou. Every day in the afternoon she played shukukon with the kids. She was getting pretty good at it.
She found something else entertaining to do as well. A small group of people had brought instruments with them, apparently to give them something to do to wile away the time. They would spend a few hours a day playing folk music from En, which had a circling, bouncy quality. In a cleared out area in front of them, groups of people would dance, circling and bouncing to match the music. It was pretty simple; Aku figured out the steps just watching for a few minutes. After she figured it out, she jumped right into the crowd to join them. She found a few minutes to an hour to do this every day.
Near the end of the group's time in the meadow, Aku had dragged Enrin over to that end of the camp. At the Taiho's appearance, everyone playing instruments and dancing stopped immediately and prostrated themselves. Aku asked Enrin to tell them to go back to what they had been doing before, and they slowly did. As soon as the song was started up again, Aku dragged Enrin into the crowd to dance with her. They quickly discovered Enrin wasn't very good at it, and didn't enjoy it besides. Oh well. She seemed to make her people uncomfortable too, so before long she left Aku to it.
When the day was over, she would return to the inner palace, and to being Kyourin. But usually by then she was dead tired, and would go straight to her pagoda. Some nights she managed to get a game of kokki with Sekto in before going to sleep in the jumble of her shirei, but just as often she was too tired. And the cycle would restart.
Shortly it became time for the people to leave again. Once again, Enrin had not chosen a king. There was a disappointed and disheartened air in the camp, that En would go even longer without a ruler blessed with the Mandate, but there was nothing to be done about it. Aku went around the camp, saying goodbye to all the friends she had made. When saying goodbye to In'ou, she almost cried, but she managed to contain herself. Finally, the camp completely disassembled, and the people started on their way into Koukai. Even after they had left, Aku would sometimes drop in to say hi. She spent much of her time in Koukai anyway, so it was easy enough to arrange. She got several compliments on her appearance shifted, which she awkwardly tried to brush off.
Before long, she was told by the nyosen to not visit the departing group anymore, nor to go into that region of Koukai. Eventually the new batch would come in, this time arriving from both En and Kyou. The cycle would start all over, with a new collection of people on their shouzan four times a year.
Things would continue this way for some years.
