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Hitoka is crying.
What did he say?
Surely Takahashi didn't intentionally make her cry; she could just be homesick or sad about Moyasu. She did just hear about it recently, and it was her hometown. Maybe you should comfort her, but she doesn't seem like the type to want comforting.
You peek inside the room, feeling slightly guilty. You're ignoring Hitoka's privacy, and as bad as you feel about it . . .
Yeah, nevermind. You shouldn't do this, especially after taking her in and giving her a place to stay.
You sigh, walking away from the crying girl. You've noticed that ever since you left your father and Hiro, you've been getting careless, reckless.
But maybe not. Maybe it's because you feel more relaxed here, more comfortable.
You don't want to intrude and make Hitoka feel uncomfortable, but you still want to help.
You walk briskly down the hall, searching for Takahashi, but instead find Shoto. He's sitting on a couch at the end of the hall, right next to his father's room; or what used to be, since he's been moved to the doctor's care.
A book sits in his lap and he skims the pages.
"Shoto?" You ask, sitting next to him.
He looks up and smiles. "Princess."
You point at the book in his lap. "What are you reading?"
He flips it closed and shows you the cover. It's brown leather, and looks fairly worn.
"I found it in my father's room," he says, "It's a records book. The history of the kingdom."
He opens the cover to reveal the first page. It's normal, despite the fact that pen marks cover it. They dance across the page, circling important dates and quotes, and leaving opinions scrawled on the side of each.
The edges are crinkled, making each page look as if read a thousand times over.
"It was his," his lips slightly curl upward, "he's had it for a long time, from what I've read. But look."
He carefully flips to the back of the book, to the very last section, where there's some empty pages. It's the only spot that looks good as new, as if reserved for someone else.
There, in sloppy handwriting, is this:
ѕнσтσ, ωнєη ι αм gσηє, ƒιηιѕн тнє ѕтσяу.
"When I am gone, finish the story," Shoto repeats, tracing the writing with his finger. "Do you think he planned on giving this book to me?"
"I bet he still will," you say, taking his hand in yours, "because he's not gone. He'll survive this. He's a fighter; he always has been."
"Yeah," he smiles, squeezing your hand, "Yeah, you're right."
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"What in the world did you say to her?" You ask the confused guard.
Takahashi shifts his weight from one foot to another, looking around the room and avoiding your eyes. "Say to who?"
"Hitoka!" You say. "I walked by and heard her crying right after you walked out! She's a guest; you shouldn't. . ."
You stop, watching the transformation in front of you. Suddenly all nervousness is gone; Takahashi stands straight, not moving, hands behind his back like he normally would. His eyes snap to yours and he smiles.
"Oh, hello Princess," he hums, "Oh, and the prince!"
He points behind you to where Shoto is approaching, the book clutched in his hand. He walks briskly, as if he wants to show you something.
"Takahashi listen to me," you snap, turning back to him, "what in the world just happened?"
". . .what do you mean?"
"Y-you were. . .an-and you. . ." you stutter, not sure what exactly to say. "We were talking, and you suddenly. . ."
Shoto comes up behind you, eagerly waiting for you to finish your conversation.
You decide to start over. "Okay, what did you say to Hitoka when you visited her?"
"Visited her?" Takahashi looks at you quizzically, "I haven't seen her since she was released. I wouldn't visit a lady in her room alone, your Highness."
"But didn't you want to give her flowers?" You ask.
"Oh, yes," he smiles, blushing, "but I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. What if she has allergies? Or hates flowers?"
"You got nervous and chickened out, didn't you?" You laugh.
"You guessed it," he smirks, "but really, your Highness, I haven't seen her in a while. I just hope she's well."
How could he forget? It was less than ten minutes ago. . . !
"But you just saw her!" You say, trying to piece together the events, "You just walked out of her room, I was there. . ."
"I'm sure I would've remembered that, princess."
"But. . ."
You look behind you, to where Shoto is standing with his father's book. He tilts his head. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yes I just, don't know what's going on," you say, "Hold on, Shoto, I'm sorry but I'll talk with you in a bit. Meet me in my room in ten minutes."
You smile at him, then walk away, head swirling with thoughts. Is there something wrong with Takahashi? Was he poisoned like the king?
You stop in front of Hitoka's room, right next to yours, and knock on the door.
"Who is it?" you hear her call.
"It's me," you say, "I just wanted to talk about something really fast."
If Hitoka doesn't remember, then I might be the one going crazy.
"Come in."
You open the door to see Hitoka sitting on the edge of her bed, drinking tea.
You smile. "Looks like someone's warming up to the food."
"Yes, well," she smirks, "I've always liked tea."
You sit beside her. "So have I. May I have a cup?"
She nods, pouring you one and handing you the delicate teacup. You're careful not to spill it on the bed or your clothes, taking a sip.
"So," you start, "has Takahashi visited you today?"
She nods, pointing to some roses on her bedside. "He gave me those. He even tried to remove the thorns for me." She laughs.
"That's such a Takahashi thing to do," you sigh. "Did he act sort of. . .strange? Not like himself?"
"Not really," she takes a sip of her tea, "He acted normal. Why do you want to know anyways?"
"Oh, well, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," you apologize, "I just thought I noticed something off about him earlier. Wouldn't want my personal guard to be sick, haha."
You force a laugh, then take one last sip of your tea and leave.
That was embarrassing. Good thing I got out of there before anything else happened.
Your head is hurting, but probably from all of the theories forming.
Now you have to go to your room to meet with Shoto. It seemed like he had something important to tell you.
It suddenly feels like the air is made of lead, pushing down on your lungs and making it hard to breathe. Your vision gets blurry, but you can still see the door to your room just a few feet ahead of you.
What's happening?
The hall seems to sway, like a boat in a storm, undesirably bringing up lunch from earlier, and perhaps some of that tea.
The tea.
And then, the world fades to black.
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