Rei didn’t know if he admired or hated how Kyoumi and Sorai dropped everything for him, prioritizing his comfort and well-being. They only stayed in camp long enough to personally see Taiyo prepared and buried, at which point the sun started to set and the battle seemed quieter. The soldiers pulled back for the night, letting Sir Hiroki and Roken hear the news and receive instructions for when the fighting truly ended.


    His thoughts slowed down over the course of the trip to the point of being nearly nonexistent. He slept most of the way, having no dreams and regularly waking up to his parents’ conversations or if the cart they traveled on rolled over any large stones. It took two weeks, apparently, but it barely felt like three days to him.


    Kyoumi nudged him awake when they got close. Maeko and her mother waited outside the city for them, each one holding a cat; Maeko had Snowbell, while Miss Nesshin must have Azalea. Snowbell immediately mewed at the cart, the driver slowing to a stop so Rei could get out.


    Maeko came up to him immediately, shifting Snowbell’s weight so she could wipe away a few tears.


    “I… I’m sorry. I heard what happened.” She held Snowbell out, and the cat commented with another mew. “Please take her—you need her fluffiness more than I do.”


    “Thanks, Maeko.” He accepted Snowbell, gently patting her head as she let out a purr.


    Maeko dared to give a little smile, and after a second Rei returned it. Being home helped a little; it wouldn’t replace Taiyo and it never could, but it might make it easier. He knew where to go if he had a rough time of things here.


    Miss Nesshin gave her daughter the other cat and offered a bow to Kyoumi and Sorai as they stepped off the cart.


    “Queen Gin-Kaiba?”


    Kyoumi immediately turned to give the woman her attention, curious. She permissed Miss Nesshin with a nod.


    “If it’s all right with the king and prince, may my daughter and I stay at the palace?” Miss Nesshin asked. “I want to make sure that the prince receives the support he needs while still seeing my daughter in the halls. I know how hard it is to lose family and I’d like to help. I…apologize if it seems a little selfish to put a condition on it.”


    “I appreciate the thought, truly,” Kyoumi replied, managing her own little smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was more than Rei had seen since they started to travel. “And please don’t worry about it—we have plenty of extra space and your daughter practically has her own guest room. It wouldn’t take much to prepare another for you.”


    Miss Nesshin bowed again. “Thank you. Is there anything I could do as payment?”


    “Would it be too much to bake some cookies while we unpack?” Rei suggested hesitantly, wary of making any unfair requests. No one seemed to mind, letting him relax and give a sheepish look. “They’re something of a comfort food for me, and we can give some to Taiyo.”The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    All the smiles fell at the mention of his brother, but Miss Nesshin nodded nonetheless.


    “I would love to,” she said kindly.


    Rei cast her a quick grateful look and she took her leave. They walked alongside the cart to bring their things inside the palace.


    …


    Laying on his bedroom floor, both cats sleeping on his stomach, should’ve made it easier to forget what happened. But he couldn’t—his thoughts just repeated themselves over and over, a string of what-ifs and doubts. He tried to analyze all their final conversations to find some shred of evidence that Taiyo died satisfied, or if there was any signs Rei missed that could’ve saved him.


    Maeko was nearby, nibbling on her mother’s cookies with one hand and petting Azalea with the other. She glanced at him and frowned.


    “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly. “You look about ready to cry again.”


    “Maybe.” Rei sighed, reaching with his left hand to stroke Snowbell’s side. She purred in her sleep in response. Hesitantly, Rei attempted to put some thoughts into words. “Do you…remember much from when your father died?”


    “Vaguely,” Maeko replied. “I know I was sad and scared, but any six-year-old would be with a change as big as leaving your hometown. I’ve been told a lot about it, though—how my mother felt. Even a decade later, she still remembers that day clearly.”


    “So I’ll never stop seeing my injured brother every other time I close my eyes?”


    Maeko gave him a sympathetic look. “You might not. Allegedly, it gets easier—you won’t always fall into doubts and regrets when you think about it, but when it does it might hurt just as much as day one.”


    “That’s what I overheard from Kyoumi,” Rei mused. “I just…don’t really want to ask her too much about the process. She’s gone through this four times now; it must be hard.”


    “Your mother’s pain doesn’t cancel out or negate yours,” Maeko reasoned. “You’re still allowed to feel whatever you need to—it won’t be a burden, I promise.”


    “I know, I know.” He let his hand rest on Snowbell’s head. “Everyone has their own issues with this. They’re trying their best to focus on me; I have my whole life ahead of me, still. I shouldn’t spend it mourning.”


    “Right. There’s a time to take it slow and easy, but eventually you’ll be expected to show up again in public or talk about it without choking.”


    Maeko pulled away from Azalea and readjusted herself to look at Rei. She offered a tiny little smile, reassuring and as contagious as it always has been.


    “When that happens, do your best,” she said. “Chances are I’ll be right next to you, and no one’s anticipating a full recovery in months. You can try to make Taiyo proud.”


    Rei chuckled, the sound coming out mostly hollow. “He always wanted me to smile more. Be more optimistic.”


    “Make that your goal, then,” Maeko suggested. “That way, whenever he has a chance to watch you or when you can talk to him again, he’ll be happy for you.”


    “I’ll do my best,” Rei promised.


    “That’s all I ask.”


    It lightened his heart a little to see her perk up, take a cookie, and reach over to give it to Rei. He accepted it and took a little bite, letting the flavor and texture remind him of better days.


    He chose to believe things won’t stay this way forever. They’ll have some troubles getting things back to normal—holding a public substitute funeral for Taiyo, ending the war, whatever comes after that—but he can rest easy once it happens.


    For Taiyo’s sake, if nothing else, Rei vowed to do his best in handling this.