Fit for a King

Kiyoshi would never have believed it if someone had told him that he would be wearing a mechified training harness to his father's funeral. Yet there he stood in that hot, noisy apparatus trying to pretend he was a street cleaner or some such. It was humiliating, but necessary; one did not tread without care when Goshi wanted you dead, and there was no dishonor that would have been worse than not being present for his father's burial; and his own, he thought wryly, looking at the second casket symbolically laid out for himself, the report being that his body had either been incinerated or had been blown out the window and fell into the deepest parts of the mines, never to be seen again.

He watched somberly as his brother, Ichirou, spoke of their father's many deeds and awards. Nearby stood Ichirou's wife and their sister, Naomi, consoling each other in their grief. Kiyoshi wished very much that he could go to them, let them know that he was alive and well, and the real reason that their father had died, but he dared not. When those who hunted him were telepaths, the fewer people who knew he was alive the better. Speaking of which... Kiyoshi felt the tingling of something gliding over his mind, and quickly entered the Void to block access. In his heightened state of awareness he looked about, and, sure enough, there was a familiar pink-haired girl glancing about at everyone, her expression bored and yet almost... hopeful. Kiyoshi was incensed that she would dare to sully his father's funeral, but knew that the best thing to do in this case was to hide, so he carefully moved away from her, only dropping his combat meditations when he felt her probing stop.

He now found himself standing close to a gazebo that had been set up to shade its owner, none other than Tsuchinaga Yamoto, the man who, Kiyoshi knew, had paid for the funeral. Oh, he had not told him that we was going to, and would deny it if pressed, but Kiyoshi knew. Yamoto had been friends with his father as well, and if he wanted to contribute to make sure his burial was fitting to the lord that he had been, then the disguised young noble could find no fault. He just hoped that his attendence did not bring undue attention; besides Aimi poking about, Yamoto was one of a bare handful of Biomade in attendance, even though Lord Daitokuji had been one of the most important men in the city in his way, the Grand Master of the finest Mecha Academy in the world. Still, Yamoto was rich and powerful in his own right, and had made slipping away from trouble with seemingly no effort almost an art form, so Kiyoshi figured he would be alright.

Kiyoshi directed his attention once more to his brother, just finishing a speech about Kiyoshi himself, and the tireless efforts he had made on the part of his fellow Cheldrun. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling he got from hearing himself described thus, he thought that it was a tragedy that Ichirou, not even middle aged yet, would soon bear the burden of being Lord and Patriarch of the entire Silver Phoenix clan. If only he could be there to lend his mind and knowledge of administration! But no, first he had to find a way to protect himself from Goshi. They would not want any witnesses to what had happened during that demonstration, even if said witnesses had no idea what had really happened. Ichirou had left the podium and a new man, the new Grand Master of Washisan, apparently, had started in. Kiyoshi could not remember his name; he had never paid much attention to the politics of the Mecha pilots.

When he was finished, Ichirou himself threw the first symbolic handful of dirt over the caskets, along with flowers from Naomi, and Daitokuji Noboru, Patriarch of the Silver Phoenix clan and Grand Master of Washisan Academy was laid to rest beside his wife and, so most people thought, his second son. There was a sudden commotion then, as every single pilot of the Academy, student and master alike (and more than a few visiting from other cities to pay their respects to the fallen master) summoned their Mecha and stood in a line, gleaming in the sunlight. Surely a more impressive sight had not been seen in an age as dozens of Mecha saluted his father in a final farewell.

Kiyoshi had to turn away, a sudden gout of smoke from his suit causing his eyes to water (or so he told himself). And so he found himself face to face with Aimi, standing less than a meter away and peering at him, an expression of sadness on her singularly expressive face. Their eyes locked, and for a single, horrifying instant Kiyoshi thought that he would have to strike her down in the middle of the funeral. She just looked at him, however, and he heard a voice in his head. "I never had a father, but I think if I did have one, and he died, I would be really sad. I am off today, anyway. I just wanted to say... I am sorry for your loss." After this silent communication, she stood up on tip toes and placed a small kiss on his dusty, tear-streaked cheek, then turned and walked away without a word. With one last glance at his siblings, Kiyoshi resolutely did the same.

4 comments:

Aric Clark said...

That kiss stays with Kiyoshi all day. And the next day. Indeed, a gentle tingle which is strangely uplifting, is constantly with Kiyoshi. Perhaps he chides himself for being so affected by a little girl. Or perhaps he enjoys it. Either way it is memorable for him for reasons he can't define.

Paul Wise said...

Aimi acting *nice*? *Sympathetic?*

She's up to something. >.>

Joshua M Lee said...

Absolutely she is. Or maybe, just maybe, someone born in a lab can feel the yearning to be... human. Even if they cannot define it, or even admit it. My favorite answer would be that both are true. ;)

Paul Wise said...

"Or maybe, just maybe, someone born in a lab can feel the yearning to be... human."

Bah. Sentimentalism. We know very well what human nature is. Human nature is a combination of 4 basic proteins in a variety of complex patterns. ;P


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