Still holding Kicho's hand, I turned back to Ranmaru.
He was still waiting for my orders.
Holding back his tears, sword at the ready, meaning to fight beside his lord to the very end. His face still had a childlike innocence to it. My precious page, whom I'd kept by my side and looked after since he was small.
I knew.
This plan, no matter what, would need a sacrifice to make it all add up. Unless someone really fought here, and really died, the "rebellion" wouldn't be real.
But.
This boy, at least, I didn't want to let die.
"Ranmaru."
I said it as quietly as I could.
"You live."
Ranmaru caught his breath.
"Run. Don't die here. You're still young. Forget about me, and live, somewhere far away."
Please.
Please, just run.
I don't want you dying too, for my ridiculous plan.
But.
Ranmaru slowly shook his head.
"...I cannot."
His voice was wet with tears.
"To leave you behind, my lord, and flee by myself. It would be the shame of Mori Ranmaru's whole life."
"Please, flee, my lord. I, Ranmaru, will hold back the enemy here. I will keep as many as I can, even one more, away from your back."
I was at a loss for words.
Something hot choked the back of my throat. I tried to say something, but no voice came.
To the very end, this boy believed I was a Demon King.
And to protect that Demon King, he was staying behind in these flames, all alone, ready to throw away his life.
For my ridiculous freedom.
If I confessed that I was just a coward, that this was all an act so I could be at ease—would he have run?
No.
I'm sure that even then. He'd have smiled and said this.
"Then all the more reason, my lord. I will see you safely away."
The flames roared between us. There was no time left.
"...Ranmaru."
That was all I said, and I turned on my heel toward the inner room.
Behind me, I heard the rustle of him readying his sword again. I heard his footsteps running toward the enemy.
I couldn't look back.
Because if I looked back, my feet would stop. Because if I looked back, I'd want to hold him and die there with him.
One step, then another.
My own footsteps toward the inner room echoed strangely loud. The war cries behind me, the clash of blades, grew fainter, little by little.
Each one of them sounded like the sound of that boy's life being shaved away.
I bit my lip.
Kicho's hand squeezed mine hard.
"My lord. See that you never let that boy's life go to waste."
As if I ever would.
This modest freedom of mine.
Is built on this boy's life.
On the lives of so many others, whose names I don't even know.
I couldn't save them all.
My kindness, to the very last, could never save everyone without letting a single one slip through.
I will never forget that, as long as I live.