Setting
A relatively small island harboring a dense futuristic city. Hundreds of years ago, a singularity occurred, and ever since, magic has been commonplace on the island. This magic has been woven into the culture of the city and how the politics of the city are run.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Shizume Island is a part of 
King's Game.
1 Characters Here
The Characters [3] Don't feel like making thirty of these, so all of the major players are described here.
Start Character Here »
Setting
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- King's Game -
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part one: The Unexpected
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.
It was never supposed to be that way.
t ❋
Ever since she was a child, Aika knew that one day, her father would die, and the crown of the Grey King would pass to her. Yoshio didn't believe in clouding the nature of death from his children. Aika and her brother, Akira, were always aware that one day the responsibilities of leading the Grey Clan would be theirs.
Ever since she was a child, Aika knew that one day, her father would die.
It hits her like a freight train anyways.
t ❋
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.
He had told no one but his personal doctor and lawyer that he was dying. That the cancer he'd defeated in his youth had returned with cruel strength. That he had ignored the symptoms until they were no longer treatable. That he had sorted all his affairs more than a year before he finally passed away in the dark of night.
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected. He deteriorates rapidly in the dark of night, calling for his children through quiet halls. Only Aika answers.
She holds his hand as his vision clouds, as he gasps for breath, as he whispers empty comforts and tries to dry her tears with shaking fingers. She holds his hand as he calls for his son who is too far away to hear the plea.
She holds his hand as his grip loosens in her own, as her father slips from time.
Aika remains by his side, only letting go to comfort her brother when he arrives. Akira mourns in her arms and Aika allows herself this moment of grief, because she knows it is all she'll have. With her father dead, there is much to be done: the Council of Kings will need to be informed, a funeral arranged, a King Chosen-
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.
Ikeda Aika's Awakening is even more so.
It happens as she stands, wrapped in her brother's arms and her brother's grief, feeling the tears of her only remaining family upon her cheek. It happens as she gazes into nothing and wonders why her father kept his cancer from them.
It happens as she asks herself: What happens now?
In a way, the Stone answers that question. It appears in a flash of dazzling silver light, specks of pale blue dancing across the room. It should be blinding, but Aika gazes into the light unflinchingly, a sense of calm washing over her like a gentle ocean wave. Her grief, her brother's grief ... the world around her fades away.
As the light begins to dim, Aika finds herself cupping a Stone in her hands. She has seen it many times before, carefully sealed away in a glass case in the Hall of Kings. She has never held it in her hands, but it is familiar all the same.
It is only when the light completely fades that Aika realizes her brother is no longer holding her, instead standing a few feet away, tear-streaked eyes caught on the massive Moonstone she holds. Akira meets her eye and smiles, so small, and only then does it dawn on her the weight of what she holds to her breast.
The Moonstone has chosen her.
She is the new Grey King.
It was never supposed to be that way.
t ❋
Ever since she was a child, Aika knew that one day, her father would die, and the crown of the Grey King would pass to her. Yoshio didn't believe in clouding the nature of death from his children. Aika and her brother, Akira, were always aware that one day the responsibilities of leading the Grey Clan would be theirs.
Ever since she was a child, Aika knew that one day, her father would die.
It hits her like a freight train anyways.
t ❋
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.
He had told no one but his personal doctor and lawyer that he was dying. That the cancer he'd defeated in his youth had returned with cruel strength. That he had ignored the symptoms until they were no longer treatable. That he had sorted all his affairs more than a year before he finally passed away in the dark of night.
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected. He deteriorates rapidly in the dark of night, calling for his children through quiet halls. Only Aika answers.
She holds his hand as his vision clouds, as he gasps for breath, as he whispers empty comforts and tries to dry her tears with shaking fingers. She holds his hand as he calls for his son who is too far away to hear the plea.
She holds his hand as his grip loosens in her own, as her father slips from time.
Aika remains by his side, only letting go to comfort her brother when he arrives. Akira mourns in her arms and Aika allows herself this moment of grief, because she knows it is all she'll have. With her father dead, there is much to be done: the Council of Kings will need to be informed, a funeral arranged, a King Chosen-
Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.
Ikeda Aika's Awakening is even more so.
It happens as she stands, wrapped in her brother's arms and her brother's grief, feeling the tears of her only remaining family upon her cheek. It happens as she gazes into nothing and wonders why her father kept his cancer from them.
It happens as she asks herself: What happens now?
In a way, the Stone answers that question. It appears in a flash of dazzling silver light, specks of pale blue dancing across the room. It should be blinding, but Aika gazes into the light unflinchingly, a sense of calm washing over her like a gentle ocean wave. Her grief, her brother's grief ... the world around her fades away.
As the light begins to dim, Aika finds herself cupping a Stone in her hands. She has seen it many times before, carefully sealed away in a glass case in the Hall of Kings. She has never held it in her hands, but it is familiar all the same.
It is only when the light completely fades that Aika realizes her brother is no longer holding her, instead standing a few feet away, tear-streaked eyes caught on the massive Moonstone she holds. Akira meets her eye and smiles, so small, and only then does it dawn on her the weight of what she holds to her breast.
The Moonstone has chosen her.
She is the new Grey King.
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t ❋
News of that night's events travels surprisingly slowly. By the time the doctors and coroners arrive to document Ikeda Yoshio's death, by the time the body has been gently whisked off to the funeral home, by the time Aika and her brother arrive at the Hall of Kings to place the moonstone in its case, the sun has risen.
It is early morning when Nakamura Daisuke joins them in the Hall of Kings. The three of them together are able to contact the other Kings and inform them of the former Grey King's passing and the new Grey King's unexpected awakening.
The Gold King is the first to answer. Alistair La Fontaine holds any emotion within himself as he learns of this sudden transfer of power. He is calm, and quiet, and business-like as he thanks the Grey Clan for being so prompt with their call.
The Blue King does not answer the call, but Aika leaves a voicemail anyways, and earns a response mid-morning from a clearly tired Tsunemori Misaki. They speak in hushed voices for a long time, comforting one another in their grief. Then Misaki asks if a new King has been chosen, and quietly congratulates her friend.
The Red King does not get a call, because Aika does not know the number.
The Purple King, however, answers right away when she calls- an action that Aika will not disclose to anyone. Oda Tatsuyuki is solemn, and does not offer empty comforts. Aika does not mention the new Grey King, and Tatsuyuki does not ask.
t ❋
The Green King does not get a call, but the Jade shimmers and trembles on Rui's shelf in the late hours of the night, just like the other Stones in their glass case.
Rui is not awake to witness this, but she grieves in her dreams nonetheless.
News of that night's events travels surprisingly slowly. By the time the doctors and coroners arrive to document Ikeda Yoshio's death, by the time the body has been gently whisked off to the funeral home, by the time Aika and her brother arrive at the Hall of Kings to place the moonstone in its case, the sun has risen.
It is early morning when Nakamura Daisuke joins them in the Hall of Kings. The three of them together are able to contact the other Kings and inform them of the former Grey King's passing and the new Grey King's unexpected awakening.
The Gold King is the first to answer. Alistair La Fontaine holds any emotion within himself as he learns of this sudden transfer of power. He is calm, and quiet, and business-like as he thanks the Grey Clan for being so prompt with their call.
The Blue King does not answer the call, but Aika leaves a voicemail anyways, and earns a response mid-morning from a clearly tired Tsunemori Misaki. They speak in hushed voices for a long time, comforting one another in their grief. Then Misaki asks if a new King has been chosen, and quietly congratulates her friend.
The Red King does not get a call, because Aika does not know the number.
The Purple King, however, answers right away when she calls- an action that Aika will not disclose to anyone. Oda Tatsuyuki is solemn, and does not offer empty comforts. Aika does not mention the new Grey King, and Tatsuyuki does not ask.
t ❋
The Green King does not get a call, but the Jade shimmers and trembles on Rui's shelf in the late hours of the night, just like the other Stones in their glass case.
Rui is not awake to witness this, but she grieves in her dreams nonetheless.
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t ❋ location: Créme de Violette
three days after Ikeda Yoshio's death
It's been one hour since the bar officially closed, two hours since the sun rose, yet only one resident of the Créme de Violette apartments is awake.
Tanaka Natsuki sways gently to Ella Fitzgerald playing on her radio as she flips an egg. There are no footsteps above her, but she knows there will be soon- it's almost seven. Louis Armstrong's voice joins Ella's and floats around the kitchen.
And there they are- footsteps. Just not the footsteps she was expecting.
She doesn't have to look to know who's on the stairs, entering the kitchen, quietly pulling out a chair to sit down. Natsuki finishes cooking her folded egg and plates it next to a piece of grilled fish, and only then does she turn around. Arata sits at the bar with his chin in his hands, eyes tired and distant and thoughtful.
Natsuki sets the plate down in front of him and leans her hip against the bar. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong's voices continue to fill the silence.
A long moment passes like this. Natsuki doesn't ask what's on Arata's mind- she already knows. Arata doesn't ask for Natsuki's opinion- he already knows she'll give it to him. But not before he becomes a part of the waking world.
Finally, Arata sighs and starts to eat. Natsuki smiles and steps away to make tea. The song on the radio fades into silence and is quickly replaced by a livelier tune.
"Have you decided what you're going to do yet?" Natsuki asks.
Arata sighs again, and Natsuki doesn't have to turn around to picture the look on his face- a mixture of annoyance and relief that she'll always know him better than anyone else. It's a nice expression, she thinks. Always satisfying. Arata doesn't offer her an answer right away, and Natsuki doesn't pressure him for one.
She finishes brewing the tea and pours a cup for each of them. A dull thud above them hints at some of their younger members finally waking up. About time.
Natsuki sets a cup of tea in front of Arata and they drink in silence. Natsuki trusts that he'll open up to her sooner rather than later- she knows he doesn't want to talk about this in front of the kids. They both know they're running out of time.
Arata sets his cup down and sighs, avoiding her gaze. "It's a bad idea."
Natsuki raises an eyebrow at him over the rim of her cup. "Is it? Or are you just afraid to put yourself in the spotlight again after all these years?"
"I won't just be putting myself in the spotlight. It'd be all of us."
"You say that as if we're unaware. Each of us knew what we were getting into when we became your Clansmen. We're all prepared."
There's pain and fear in Arata's eyes as they meet hers. "Are you sure?"
Natsuki knows who he's talking about, and a part of her wants to agree with him, validate his fears. Their world has not been kind to their Clan, and not everyone is prepared for the life-or-death battle that might break out at any moment.
But if she agreed with him, she'd be doing everyone a disservice.
Instead, she sets her cup next to his and places a hand on his shoulder. "They may be children, but they aren't ignorant, and they aren't weak. And you know what they're like, they'll be in the spotlight eventually no matter what we do to keep them hidden. They're both awful at keeping secrets."
A soft smile curls Arata's mouth and Natsuki can't help a smile herself. And, as if on cue, two sets of footsteps tumble their way down the stairs and into the room.
Tooru and Sachiko offer loud, barely-there greetings as they race past the bar in a beeline for the television. A jumbled argument and some frantic button-mashing later, and that morning's episode of some anime Natsuki can't recall is playing.
Natsuki barely reacts- they're like this every morning. But there's a sadness in Arata's eyes as he gazes at them, and she knows he's thinking about what it would mean for them if he does decide to attend Ikeda Yoshio's funeral.
She watches him, and he pretends not to notice, and Natsuki begins to realize that he's not going to make the decision on his own. Not this time. He's too afraid.
She understands why.
But now is not the time to bow to fear.
"Arata," She says, voice stern.
Arata looks at her with narrowed eyes, then at Tooru and Sachiko, who are too absorbed in their anime to notice anything around them. He looks back at her.
"There's plenty that can go wrong. The other Kings hate you, hate all of us. But it's been five years. A new King has been chosen. Things are changing, and I think you ought to make a statement while you have the chance."
Arata doesn't look away from her gaze, but there's hesitation in him still. Natsuki smiles and holds out her hand, conjuring a gentle flame nestled in her palm.
"You are our King, and we will follow you through anything. You know that."
And there it is- that spark in his eye.
The very thing that led Natsuki and so many others to call him their King.
Arata sighs, a thicker sigh, like the breath taken before a fight. "Alright." Natsuki lets the flame in her hand die as she watches him stand and stretch. And though nothing she's ever done has ever been able to pull the kids away from their morning cartoons, all it takes is Arata stretching to draw their attention to him.
Arata grins at them, and Natsuki can see Tooru and Sachi vibrating in excitement.
"So," Arata says, "you two wanna go to a funeral with me?"
three days after Ikeda Yoshio's death
It's been one hour since the bar officially closed, two hours since the sun rose, yet only one resident of the Créme de Violette apartments is awake.
Tanaka Natsuki sways gently to Ella Fitzgerald playing on her radio as she flips an egg. There are no footsteps above her, but she knows there will be soon- it's almost seven. Louis Armstrong's voice joins Ella's and floats around the kitchen.
And there they are- footsteps. Just not the footsteps she was expecting.
She doesn't have to look to know who's on the stairs, entering the kitchen, quietly pulling out a chair to sit down. Natsuki finishes cooking her folded egg and plates it next to a piece of grilled fish, and only then does she turn around. Arata sits at the bar with his chin in his hands, eyes tired and distant and thoughtful.
Natsuki sets the plate down in front of him and leans her hip against the bar. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong's voices continue to fill the silence.
A long moment passes like this. Natsuki doesn't ask what's on Arata's mind- she already knows. Arata doesn't ask for Natsuki's opinion- he already knows she'll give it to him. But not before he becomes a part of the waking world.
Finally, Arata sighs and starts to eat. Natsuki smiles and steps away to make tea. The song on the radio fades into silence and is quickly replaced by a livelier tune.
"Have you decided what you're going to do yet?" Natsuki asks.
Arata sighs again, and Natsuki doesn't have to turn around to picture the look on his face- a mixture of annoyance and relief that she'll always know him better than anyone else. It's a nice expression, she thinks. Always satisfying. Arata doesn't offer her an answer right away, and Natsuki doesn't pressure him for one.
She finishes brewing the tea and pours a cup for each of them. A dull thud above them hints at some of their younger members finally waking up. About time.
Natsuki sets a cup of tea in front of Arata and they drink in silence. Natsuki trusts that he'll open up to her sooner rather than later- she knows he doesn't want to talk about this in front of the kids. They both know they're running out of time.
Arata sets his cup down and sighs, avoiding her gaze. "It's a bad idea."
Natsuki raises an eyebrow at him over the rim of her cup. "Is it? Or are you just afraid to put yourself in the spotlight again after all these years?"
"I won't just be putting myself in the spotlight. It'd be all of us."
"You say that as if we're unaware. Each of us knew what we were getting into when we became your Clansmen. We're all prepared."
There's pain and fear in Arata's eyes as they meet hers. "Are you sure?"
Natsuki knows who he's talking about, and a part of her wants to agree with him, validate his fears. Their world has not been kind to their Clan, and not everyone is prepared for the life-or-death battle that might break out at any moment.
But if she agreed with him, she'd be doing everyone a disservice.
Instead, she sets her cup next to his and places a hand on his shoulder. "They may be children, but they aren't ignorant, and they aren't weak. And you know what they're like, they'll be in the spotlight eventually no matter what we do to keep them hidden. They're both awful at keeping secrets."
A soft smile curls Arata's mouth and Natsuki can't help a smile herself. And, as if on cue, two sets of footsteps tumble their way down the stairs and into the room.
Tooru and Sachiko offer loud, barely-there greetings as they race past the bar in a beeline for the television. A jumbled argument and some frantic button-mashing later, and that morning's episode of some anime Natsuki can't recall is playing.
Natsuki barely reacts- they're like this every morning. But there's a sadness in Arata's eyes as he gazes at them, and she knows he's thinking about what it would mean for them if he does decide to attend Ikeda Yoshio's funeral.
She watches him, and he pretends not to notice, and Natsuki begins to realize that he's not going to make the decision on his own. Not this time. He's too afraid.
She understands why.
But now is not the time to bow to fear.
"Arata," She says, voice stern.
Arata looks at her with narrowed eyes, then at Tooru and Sachiko, who are too absorbed in their anime to notice anything around them. He looks back at her.
"There's plenty that can go wrong. The other Kings hate you, hate all of us. But it's been five years. A new King has been chosen. Things are changing, and I think you ought to make a statement while you have the chance."
Arata doesn't look away from her gaze, but there's hesitation in him still. Natsuki smiles and holds out her hand, conjuring a gentle flame nestled in her palm.
"You are our King, and we will follow you through anything. You know that."
And there it is- that spark in his eye.
The very thing that led Natsuki and so many others to call him their King.
Arata sighs, a thicker sigh, like the breath taken before a fight. "Alright." Natsuki lets the flame in her hand die as she watches him stand and stretch. And though nothing she's ever done has ever been able to pull the kids away from their morning cartoons, all it takes is Arata stretching to draw their attention to him.
Arata grins at them, and Natsuki can see Tooru and Sachi vibrating in excitement.
"So," Arata says, "you two wanna go to a funeral with me?"
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t ❋ location: Saint's St. Chapel
religion is not relevant to this story but this is based on a roman catholic church bc it was easy
Aika's family had never been particularly religious, not so far as she can recall. But there's some mystic beauty to churches that she's always felt in her soul- the carefully built stone, the intricate glass windows, the soft, flickering candlelight.
It was her father's wish to be buried in the Saint's Street cemetery, beside his wife who had died when Aika was just an infant. As such, Aika and Akira thought it as good a thought as any to hold his funeral service in the Saint's Street Chapel.
Less of a distance to walk the casket, she supposed.
Aika stands atop the pulpit in a sparkling white and silver dress she'd worn to last year's school dance. Unlike her brother, she hadn't owned anything black, and to find a dress to rent or borrow had seemed too big a task at the time. She doesn't regret her decision- this dress is familiar, comforting. A Grey King's suit of honor.
The chapel has been filled for half an hour now, but Aika stands gazing at the box that holds her father and can't find a single thing to say.
What do you say to a room full of people who only ever knew him halfway?
The chapel doors open with a groan.
Aika turns around and all at once, the chapel is filled with light, the afternoon sun bursting in through the open doors. Aika raises a hand against the light but sees only the vague shapes of people entering. Many people. The doors begin to close again and hushed voices erupt in the crowd as Aika's vision clears.
She can't help the gasp of surprise that leaves her.
It's the Red King.
No- not just him. There's a crowd of people of all ages at his back, at least thirty of his Clansmen. They fill the walkway and the vestibule. A few glance about the room, meeting the other Clan's disapproving stares with arrogant smiles or glares. But many of them look dutifully onward, expressions hardened with determination.
Aika sees her brother rise from his seat in the front row and join her, standing on the pulpit steps a few feet away. She doesn't tell him to sit back down. She knows he won't. She may not believe the rumors of the Red Clan, but this display...
No one knows what to expect from the Red King and his Clansmen.
The Red King stops at the front row of pews and the crowd stills behind him. Aika eyes him with what she hopes comes across as curiosity rather than distrust. At his side stand a young boy with fiery orange hair and a tall, distinguished-looking woman. A tiny brunette girl holds his hand and gazes about in wonder.
This is the Red Clan, and it is not what she had expected.
Aika stands perfectly still beside her brother and watches the Red King gently pry his hand from the child clinging to him. He continues forward and this time, his Clansmen do not follow. Aika's eyes follow him as he ascends into the pulpit, but he doesn't stop or even glance in her direction.
The Red King pauses before the casket, and for a moment, it feels as if the room itself has held its breath. Aika stands still, and observes.
The Red King places a hand on the casket and bows his head.
He remains there for only a few seconds, but the action is clear. He is paying his respects to the dead. Aika lets out a breath and feels her nerves begin to soothe.
Arata turns from the casket with a fire in his eyes, and Aika can feel the tension rise once again. But she is not afraid. She stands with her head high and meets his gaze unflinchingly, hands folded neatly before her. Arata narrows his eyes at her, just a bit, and Aika gets the faintest impression that she's passed a test.
When Arata speaks, he speaks loud and clear, but he doesn't look away.
This message is for her.
"Your father did me a favor once. I never got the chance to repay him for it."
Aika feels her heart ache at the words, another reminder that her kind, kind father is gone, that there may be things he left undone, words he left unsaid.
Arata stands even taller, almost threatening. Aika does not look away.
"Since I can't properly repay what he did for me, I would like to offer you that favor in his place." Arata says. There is a knowing smile in his eyes.
Aika's heart skips a beat.
Instantly, the room breaks out into hushed conversation, exclamations of shock and accusations and questions of what reason could he possibly have for this?
Someone laughs. Aika's pretty sure it's one of the Red Clansmen.
Arata steps forward until Aika can see the lines of exhaustion and grief around his eyes. Again, she does not break his gaze, even as her brother flies to her side and hovers a hand at her back. Arata holds a hand out to her and a flame flickers into being in his palm, small and warm. Several guests cry out in anger.
But there is no malice in Arata's eyes, and all Aika sees is another test.
"One favor." He says, quietly this time. "If you ask, the Red Clan will answer."
This is nothing she could have ever expected.
The Red Clan appearing after years of absence from the Council, paying respect to her father, offering her one single favor that looks an awful lot like loyalty...
Aika doesn't have to think twice.
She trusts as she takes his hand in both of hers that the fire will not hurt her, and it fades the moment she touches it, a fleeting sensation like touching soft paper. She bows her head and smiles brighter as Arata does the same in return.
"I am honored to have earned such kindness from the Red Clan." She says.
Arata smiles, just a bit.
Then he gently slides his hand from hers and retreats down the steps, returning to his Clansmen. Aika smiles as she watches the crowd filter out of the chapel, each of them ignoring the tension around them. The Red Clan has not been accepted in the Council for many years, and there is hatred simmering among the pews.
But Aika just smiles, because she has gained an ally.
And today, in this room full of people who only ever knew her father halfway, who look at her with disappointment, an ally is all she ever could have asked for.
religion is not relevant to this story but this is based on a roman catholic church bc it was easy
Aika's family had never been particularly religious, not so far as she can recall. But there's some mystic beauty to churches that she's always felt in her soul- the carefully built stone, the intricate glass windows, the soft, flickering candlelight.
It was her father's wish to be buried in the Saint's Street cemetery, beside his wife who had died when Aika was just an infant. As such, Aika and Akira thought it as good a thought as any to hold his funeral service in the Saint's Street Chapel.
Less of a distance to walk the casket, she supposed.
Aika stands atop the pulpit in a sparkling white and silver dress she'd worn to last year's school dance. Unlike her brother, she hadn't owned anything black, and to find a dress to rent or borrow had seemed too big a task at the time. She doesn't regret her decision- this dress is familiar, comforting. A Grey King's suit of honor.
The chapel has been filled for half an hour now, but Aika stands gazing at the box that holds her father and can't find a single thing to say.
What do you say to a room full of people who only ever knew him halfway?
The chapel doors open with a groan.
Aika turns around and all at once, the chapel is filled with light, the afternoon sun bursting in through the open doors. Aika raises a hand against the light but sees only the vague shapes of people entering. Many people. The doors begin to close again and hushed voices erupt in the crowd as Aika's vision clears.
She can't help the gasp of surprise that leaves her.
It's the Red King.
No- not just him. There's a crowd of people of all ages at his back, at least thirty of his Clansmen. They fill the walkway and the vestibule. A few glance about the room, meeting the other Clan's disapproving stares with arrogant smiles or glares. But many of them look dutifully onward, expressions hardened with determination.
Aika sees her brother rise from his seat in the front row and join her, standing on the pulpit steps a few feet away. She doesn't tell him to sit back down. She knows he won't. She may not believe the rumors of the Red Clan, but this display...
No one knows what to expect from the Red King and his Clansmen.
The Red King stops at the front row of pews and the crowd stills behind him. Aika eyes him with what she hopes comes across as curiosity rather than distrust. At his side stand a young boy with fiery orange hair and a tall, distinguished-looking woman. A tiny brunette girl holds his hand and gazes about in wonder.
This is the Red Clan, and it is not what she had expected.
Aika stands perfectly still beside her brother and watches the Red King gently pry his hand from the child clinging to him. He continues forward and this time, his Clansmen do not follow. Aika's eyes follow him as he ascends into the pulpit, but he doesn't stop or even glance in her direction.
The Red King pauses before the casket, and for a moment, it feels as if the room itself has held its breath. Aika stands still, and observes.
The Red King places a hand on the casket and bows his head.
He remains there for only a few seconds, but the action is clear. He is paying his respects to the dead. Aika lets out a breath and feels her nerves begin to soothe.
Arata turns from the casket with a fire in his eyes, and Aika can feel the tension rise once again. But she is not afraid. She stands with her head high and meets his gaze unflinchingly, hands folded neatly before her. Arata narrows his eyes at her, just a bit, and Aika gets the faintest impression that she's passed a test.
When Arata speaks, he speaks loud and clear, but he doesn't look away.
This message is for her.
"Your father did me a favor once. I never got the chance to repay him for it."
Aika feels her heart ache at the words, another reminder that her kind, kind father is gone, that there may be things he left undone, words he left unsaid.
Arata stands even taller, almost threatening. Aika does not look away.
"Since I can't properly repay what he did for me, I would like to offer you that favor in his place." Arata says. There is a knowing smile in his eyes.
Aika's heart skips a beat.
Instantly, the room breaks out into hushed conversation, exclamations of shock and accusations and questions of what reason could he possibly have for this?
Someone laughs. Aika's pretty sure it's one of the Red Clansmen.
Arata steps forward until Aika can see the lines of exhaustion and grief around his eyes. Again, she does not break his gaze, even as her brother flies to her side and hovers a hand at her back. Arata holds a hand out to her and a flame flickers into being in his palm, small and warm. Several guests cry out in anger.
But there is no malice in Arata's eyes, and all Aika sees is another test.
"One favor." He says, quietly this time. "If you ask, the Red Clan will answer."
This is nothing she could have ever expected.
The Red Clan appearing after years of absence from the Council, paying respect to her father, offering her one single favor that looks an awful lot like loyalty...
Aika doesn't have to think twice.
She trusts as she takes his hand in both of hers that the fire will not hurt her, and it fades the moment she touches it, a fleeting sensation like touching soft paper. She bows her head and smiles brighter as Arata does the same in return.
"I am honored to have earned such kindness from the Red Clan." She says.
Arata smiles, just a bit.
Then he gently slides his hand from hers and retreats down the steps, returning to his Clansmen. Aika smiles as she watches the crowd filter out of the chapel, each of them ignoring the tension around them. The Red Clan has not been accepted in the Council for many years, and there is hatred simmering among the pews.
But Aika just smiles, because she has gained an ally.
And today, in this room full of people who only ever knew her father halfway, who look at her with disappointment, an ally is all she ever could have asked for.
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