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t â
location: Bellflower Manor - Ikeda Family Private Residence
"Daisuke, do you know what it is that father did for Arata? What favor was so important that it had to be repaid, even though father is gone?" Aika asks.
Silence stretches in the room.
It's late, very late. Despite the Red Clan's interruption and the angry discussions that had distracted her guests after, the funeral service had left Aika with a sense of satisfaction. She had spoken to the audience only briefly, having had nothing to say but that her father would be reunited with his love, resting beside her forever.
She had watched the casket sink into the open grave beside the mother she had never met, and felt sure that he would be happy there, free of life's burdens.
She doesn't remember a single comfort any of the guests had offered, because not a single one of them had felt genuine. The only thing that came to mind was Arata's hand on the casket and the creases around his dark eyes.
Silence stretches in the room, but Aika doesn't take her question back.
Daisuke looks up from the pile of paperwork before him and meets her gaze.
They sit for a long moment- her, sitting on a plush violet chaise; him, sitting at a tiny vintage desk across the room. Her waiting for an answer to her question. Him weighing the consequences of ignoring her, and perhaps...
Perhaps, weighing the consequences of telling a story he shouldn't tell.
Akira sits cross-legged on the floor between them, picking at the world's ugliest rug, patiently waiting for the two of them to figure their shit out.
Daisuke sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, hands folded before his face like a cartoon villain about to monologue their evil plan to the captured hero. Aika pulls a blanket over herself and gets comfortable. Akira rolls his eyes.
"I do." Daisuke answers, quiet and calculating. "It was a long time ago, and it isn't a happy story. But I think you already assumed that."
Aika says nothing, her silence challenging Daisuke to continue.
Akira throws his head back and groans. "God, you two are so tedious."
Ah.
Akira's frustration breaks the tension in the room, though the tension was only ever for show, a game Aika and Daisuke have played since childhood. Aika sips a cup of coffee to hide her smile and Daisuke allows himself a mocking laugh.
Then Daisuke sighs, and Aika knows what he said is true: this isn't a happy story.
"It was a long time ago, probably eight or nine years, you were both little." He begins, expression solemn. "That's why you were never told. The Red King had only been crowned for about a year, but he made quite the impression."
"As you know, he was chosen by the Rubellite at random after the former Red King died. He'd had no training, no guidance, and he didn't want any, either. He didn't care for the other Kings' opinions and made sure they knew. It's safe to say the Council hated him from the very beginning."
Aika recognizes these pieces of information from rumor. Years ago, she had often questioned the other Clans when they complained of the Red Clan and its delinquent King, her curiosity searching for a reason why they hated him so strongly when he never seemed to be around to do anything worth hating.
Eventually, she stopped asking. Now, she knows the other Kings, knows their pride and their entitlement and their small thinking, and she can see why a young man calling them out for their cruelty could have made them drive him away.
Daisuke continues the story with a pinched expression, his displeasure clear as day. "It came to the point where the Kings were trying to have Arata removed from the Council entirely. But a case couldn't be made without evidence."
This part of the story, Aika does know. That the Kings despised how Arata chose his Clansmen from non-magic people, how he refused to care about status. And how nothing could be done, because there were no rules against it.
"There was no official Blue King at the time, but a former Clansman started investigating Arata. It was common knowledge that he'd been collecting runaways and making them Clansmen. But it was discovered that he'd taken in a minor who had run away from home. A child."
Aika sees him in her memory- the young redheaded boy who had stood resolutely at Arata's side. He'd been one of the youngest she could see in the crowd.
"It was the perfect weapon. An investigation was made, but no one could find evidence that he'd been reported missing. Child services were called and the first agent who tried to touch the child got burnt. It was chaos."
"A trial was called and the Council turned on him. They accused him of kidnapping, made a case for his arrest. They all agreed that the child should be taken from his custody and his place in the Council revoked. Everyone agreed, except your father. And it all came down to his vote. Grey King."
Grey King's vote. Yes, Aika knew. The Grey King held the highest authority in the Council. The Grey King's vote decided everything. It all came down to them.
But the Grey King was not allowed to be subjective. They were not allowed to follow their own opinions or desires, only the evidence presented to them.
Aika had a feeling her father had broken this rule.
"The vote should have been clear, but no one really knew what to expect. Your father was not known for his cruelty. In that trial, the Kings wanted the outcome to be cruel. And they didn't trust him to deliver."
"He didn't, did he." Akira says. Not a question. A statement.
Daisuke smiles, a sad smile rarely shown. "No, he didn't. He told the Counil they had skipped over a massive piece of evidence and said no vote could be made until that piece of evidence had been collected. And then he went to the little boy the trial was about and asked him what he wanted to do."
Aika's heart swells with love and grief.
"No one expected that. Somehow, none of them had considered trying to turn the kid against Arata. So when Yoshio asked him if he was afraid of Arata, if he wanted to go back to his family, if he wanted to be adopted by a new family, the whole case fell apart. Because he wanted to stay with Arata."
"Your father destroyed the case they'd built against Arata. The child was left in Arata's custody with proof that he was able to provide. The trial ended. And after that, none of the Kings trusted your father again."
Silence stretches yet again, this time a peaceful, contemplative silence, as they reflect on this perfect example of their father's unyielding kindness.
It does not surprise Aika that her father was able to find a kind solution, nor does it surprise her that the other Kings hated him for it. She has seen their distrustful eyes on him during trials or during particularly heated Council meetings.
She saw a room full of those same eyes sizing her up as she stood by her father's casket and shook hands with a man of whom she had only heard horror stories.
The Council did not want her father's kindness.
They will likely not want her kindness either, but she will be kind nonetheless, because she is her father's daughter. She will follow in his footsteps whether they want her to or not, because she is her father's daughter.
And perhaps she will learn to speak up, to speak her mind loud and clear even if the entire world is against her. Perhaps she will learn to be a little more like Arata.
And if the Council rejects her, then perhaps the Council is not meant to be.
Silence stretches in the room.
It's late, very late. Despite the Red Clan's interruption and the angry discussions that had distracted her guests after, the funeral service had left Aika with a sense of satisfaction. She had spoken to the audience only briefly, having had nothing to say but that her father would be reunited with his love, resting beside her forever.
She had watched the casket sink into the open grave beside the mother she had never met, and felt sure that he would be happy there, free of life's burdens.
She doesn't remember a single comfort any of the guests had offered, because not a single one of them had felt genuine. The only thing that came to mind was Arata's hand on the casket and the creases around his dark eyes.
Silence stretches in the room, but Aika doesn't take her question back.
Daisuke looks up from the pile of paperwork before him and meets her gaze.
They sit for a long moment- her, sitting on a plush violet chaise; him, sitting at a tiny vintage desk across the room. Her waiting for an answer to her question. Him weighing the consequences of ignoring her, and perhaps...
Perhaps, weighing the consequences of telling a story he shouldn't tell.
Akira sits cross-legged on the floor between them, picking at the world's ugliest rug, patiently waiting for the two of them to figure their shit out.
Daisuke sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, hands folded before his face like a cartoon villain about to monologue their evil plan to the captured hero. Aika pulls a blanket over herself and gets comfortable. Akira rolls his eyes.
"I do." Daisuke answers, quiet and calculating. "It was a long time ago, and it isn't a happy story. But I think you already assumed that."
Aika says nothing, her silence challenging Daisuke to continue.
Akira throws his head back and groans. "God, you two are so tedious."
Ah.
Akira's frustration breaks the tension in the room, though the tension was only ever for show, a game Aika and Daisuke have played since childhood. Aika sips a cup of coffee to hide her smile and Daisuke allows himself a mocking laugh.
Then Daisuke sighs, and Aika knows what he said is true: this isn't a happy story.
"It was a long time ago, probably eight or nine years, you were both little." He begins, expression solemn. "That's why you were never told. The Red King had only been crowned for about a year, but he made quite the impression."
"As you know, he was chosen by the Rubellite at random after the former Red King died. He'd had no training, no guidance, and he didn't want any, either. He didn't care for the other Kings' opinions and made sure they knew. It's safe to say the Council hated him from the very beginning."
Aika recognizes these pieces of information from rumor. Years ago, she had often questioned the other Clans when they complained of the Red Clan and its delinquent King, her curiosity searching for a reason why they hated him so strongly when he never seemed to be around to do anything worth hating.
Eventually, she stopped asking. Now, she knows the other Kings, knows their pride and their entitlement and their small thinking, and she can see why a young man calling them out for their cruelty could have made them drive him away.
Daisuke continues the story with a pinched expression, his displeasure clear as day. "It came to the point where the Kings were trying to have Arata removed from the Council entirely. But a case couldn't be made without evidence."
This part of the story, Aika does know. That the Kings despised how Arata chose his Clansmen from non-magic people, how he refused to care about status. And how nothing could be done, because there were no rules against it.
"There was no official Blue King at the time, but a former Clansman started investigating Arata. It was common knowledge that he'd been collecting runaways and making them Clansmen. But it was discovered that he'd taken in a minor who had run away from home. A child."
Aika sees him in her memory- the young redheaded boy who had stood resolutely at Arata's side. He'd been one of the youngest she could see in the crowd.
"It was the perfect weapon. An investigation was made, but no one could find evidence that he'd been reported missing. Child services were called and the first agent who tried to touch the child got burnt. It was chaos."
"A trial was called and the Council turned on him. They accused him of kidnapping, made a case for his arrest. They all agreed that the child should be taken from his custody and his place in the Council revoked. Everyone agreed, except your father. And it all came down to his vote. Grey King."
Grey King's vote. Yes, Aika knew. The Grey King held the highest authority in the Council. The Grey King's vote decided everything. It all came down to them.
But the Grey King was not allowed to be subjective. They were not allowed to follow their own opinions or desires, only the evidence presented to them.
Aika had a feeling her father had broken this rule.
"The vote should have been clear, but no one really knew what to expect. Your father was not known for his cruelty. In that trial, the Kings wanted the outcome to be cruel. And they didn't trust him to deliver."
"He didn't, did he." Akira says. Not a question. A statement.
Daisuke smiles, a sad smile rarely shown. "No, he didn't. He told the Counil they had skipped over a massive piece of evidence and said no vote could be made until that piece of evidence had been collected. And then he went to the little boy the trial was about and asked him what he wanted to do."
Aika's heart swells with love and grief.
"No one expected that. Somehow, none of them had considered trying to turn the kid against Arata. So when Yoshio asked him if he was afraid of Arata, if he wanted to go back to his family, if he wanted to be adopted by a new family, the whole case fell apart. Because he wanted to stay with Arata."
"Your father destroyed the case they'd built against Arata. The child was left in Arata's custody with proof that he was able to provide. The trial ended. And after that, none of the Kings trusted your father again."
Silence stretches yet again, this time a peaceful, contemplative silence, as they reflect on this perfect example of their father's unyielding kindness.
It does not surprise Aika that her father was able to find a kind solution, nor does it surprise her that the other Kings hated him for it. She has seen their distrustful eyes on him during trials or during particularly heated Council meetings.
She saw a room full of those same eyes sizing her up as she stood by her father's casket and shook hands with a man of whom she had only heard horror stories.
The Council did not want her father's kindness.
They will likely not want her kindness either, but she will be kind nonetheless, because she is her father's daughter. She will follow in his footsteps whether they want her to or not, because she is her father's daughter.
And perhaps she will learn to speak up, to speak her mind loud and clear even if the entire world is against her. Perhaps she will learn to be a little more like Arata.
And if the Council rejects her, then perhaps the Council is not meant to be.