97
Aihi
Aihi stood on the path waiting for Takeha, her father, to acknowledge her presence. He knelt on a bed of maple leaves in Shōgun Mika’s personal garden, soaking in their decomposing energy. Maple trees had always been her favourite.
Furahau Takeha was the emperor, and not once did he neglect his duties. Aihi could not resent him for this; he often relocated his meetings to the pavilion in Mika’s gardens so he wasn’t more than a minute from her side. He worked from her rooms when possible.
Overall, he was not the man he had been four months ago. It was in the little details: the subdued hues of his attire, the lack of adornments. And ever since Mika became bedridden, Takeha and Aihi had only exchanged a handful of words when, before, he was relentless in his disapproval about her
