"Ayaka... I'm going to die."
Die.
Kamisato Ayaka froze.
Silence.
He spoke of his own death so plainly, so matter-of-factly, as though he were talking about someone else entirely.
The Grand Pillar would die?
To the people of Inazuma, this was unimaginable.
In their hearts, His Grace the Pillar had become a symbol — much like the symbol of eternity itself. No matter how dark the age, so long as the Pillar stood, Inazuma stood.
The Pillar had been with them for so long — so long that they had forgotten he, too, was mortal. That one day, the Pillar would leave them.
They had all taken it far too much for granted.
"...You won't." She lowered her head, the rims of her eyes reddening. "You'll be fine."
"She still won't come out?" Kiyono asked with a smile.
Kamisato Ayaka kept her head bowed, biting her lip. She said nothing.
The "she" he spoke of was the sovereign lord of Inazuma — Narukami Beelzebul, Her Excellency Raiden Ei.
They had not seen each other for a hundred years — this was his one and only regret.
The cause of it all was simply the Sakoku Decree and the Vision Hunt Decree.
Raiden Ei had issued the Sakoku Decree. Kiyono opposed it. From that point on, the rift was born, and the two of them drifted ever further apart.
Or perhaps even earlier — from the death of her elder sister, the seeds of their divergence had already been sown.
And in the most recent hundred years, it had only escalated. With the interference of Snezhnaya, the Vision Hunt Decree was enacted, and Kiyono finally defied the Narukami's orders openly — even resigning from his position as Grand General in a fit of spite.
One side sulked, and the other sulked right back. Raiden Ei refused to see Kiyono ever again, and never once emerged from the Plane of Euthymia.
Who could have imagined — this tantrum of hers would last a full hundred years.
That childish fool.
Did she still think he was some hale and hearty young man?
He was dying.
Who could hold a grudge for a hundred years?
Humans were truly wondrous and wretched creatures. A hundred years ago he had been full of vigor, but a hundred years later he was decrepit and tottering toward the grave.
Seeing His Grace fall silent, Kamisato Ayaka grew even more flustered. She waved her hands anxiously and hurried to explain:
"That's because... Her Excellency the Shogun doesn't know about your current condition. If you just tell her, she'll surely come to see—"
Ayaka faltered. The words "one last time" refused to leave her lips. After a long pause, she said in a low, heavy voice:
"She will surely come to see you."
"I'll go — I'll go seek an audience with Her Excellency the Shogun right now, I'll go—"
"Heh. A puppet, nothing more. What's the point of looking for her?" Kiyono let out a soft scoff.
Silence.
"To a warrior who pursues eternity, a hundred years is so brief, and so insignificant."
Kiyono said: "I will not disturb her, for this is her dream. And I do not wish to make her grieve."
"Promise me — don't tell her about me."
That was only one of the reasons. The other was — he did not want to die with someone keeping vigil at his bedside, watching him go.
He wouldn't be able to bring himself to leave.
That was far too undignified a way to die.
Kamisato Ayaka clenched her fingers tight, her nails digging deep into her skin.
Kiyono drew a letter from within his robe. "After I'm gone, if she asks... please give her this."
"...Alright." Ayaka said, her voice heavy with sorrow.
"Don't be sad. A young lady should smile more." Kiyono said with a smile.
"I am content. This body's mission is fulfilled. Whether for her or for Inazuma — I have nothing left to answer for."
Outside the window, the snow fell heavier now, swirling and restless.
Snow weighed upon the pines and cypresses, slowly sliding off, dropping a great clump of slush onto the frost-whitened weeds below, where it melted away, little by little.
"Let me die alone, in solitude," he said.