It started with Ryuunosuke, but he stammered so much that Kotoha wasn't entirely clear on what he was trying to tell her. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she nodded a lot and told him thank you and then he went away.

Kotoha shrugged and went back to practicing her flute.

*************************************************

Jii came by shortly afterward. Jumping up, she automatically bowed in apology. "I'm sorry, am I late for calligraphy practice? I was caught up-"

"No no." Jii waved a hand to gesture her back to her perch. "You're not late. I was hoping to speak to you, in fact."

Eyes wide, she clutched her flute and hoped whatever she'd done wasn't too bad. "Talk to me?"

"You realize that your origami must work together, of course."

Wracking her brain, Kotoha tried to think of a time she hadn't worked with the others. "Of course."

"The combinations they form...you are just as necessary as the others."

She nodded.

Jii frowned. "You're not just a substitute for your sister, Kotoha."

She nodded again, not seeing where this was going.

With a sigh, Jii seemed to deflate a bit. "I'm not saying this correctly."

"You are. I understand!" Seeing Jii look sad was just wrong.

He studied her. "I don't think you do. I'll consider this." With a nod, he strode back toward the house.

*************************************************

She went with Mako to Gold Sushi for lunch the next day, settling happily on the stool and smiling at Genta.

"You've been working so hard," Genta said. "I made you a special plate."

"Yay!" Kotoha said, clapping her hands.

Mako had a strange look on her face as she ate her own sushi. "Kotoha?"

"Hmm?" Popping some tuna in her mouth, Kotoha wasn't paying much attention until she saw Genta and Mako exchange significant looks. The tuna didn't taste nearly as good.

"Everybody sees how hard you work," Genta said.

Mako nodded. "We're proud of you and how you're always improving."

Kotoha swallowed and stared down at her food.

"We need you," Mako said, leaning closer and putting a hand on her arm.

"I need...I forgot something." Kotoha ran back to the mansion, hoping they wouldn't follow.

*************************************************

Chiaki settled on the mat next to her. "Um..." he said.

She looked at him. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just...I thought maybe you needed to remember that you still beat me at swordwork."

Kotoha's eyes widened and she whirled to stare at him. "Not you too!"

He blinked. "Me too, what?"

"Everyone seems to be talking around things and I don't understand. It's making me feel-" She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to hold back the tears.

"Don't cry!" Chiaki patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Please don't cry. I don't want to see you cry."

Kotoha turned away, a small sob escaping.

"Chiaki," said a deep voice from behind them. "Go."

Before Kotoha could react, Chiaki was gone and Takeru took his place cross-legged beside her.

"It's making you feel what?" he asked softly.

She took a few breaths, steadying her voice so she'd sound slightly less pathetic. "Stupid. I feel stupid because I don't understand what everyone is saying."

Takeru sighed. "Do you remember anything from when your soul was taken by the Gedoushu?"

The question came out of nowhere and startled, she turned to look at him. "No."

"Ah." He frowned slightly.

"Did...something happen?"

"Besides you nearly dying?" His words had more bite than usual.

Shrinking back slightly, she nodded. "What happened?" She tried to remember, but between the attack and waking up again there was nothing but fog. "Did I do something? I was unconscious, wasn't I?"

He looked at her. "You woke up for a short while."

"Oh."

"And you smiled at me and said you were fine."

"Oh."

"And that you were glad it was 'just you' that had been attacked."

Kotoha examined the statement from several angles and couldn't figure out why he looked so angry. "Oh?"

"That's why everyone has been trying to talk to you." He stood, pacing across the room, then turning back. "That you could believe your life is of so little value to us."

"It's not that. It's just that I'm not as important as..." She trailed off, everyone's words finally coming together in her mind. "Oh!"

Arms crossed, Takeru frowned, then came to kneel in front of her. "You believe you are useless and unimportant."

"Well, I meant less important," she said in a small voice, staring at the floor.

A finger on her chin, Takeru lifted her head up. "You're not less important. You're not less worthy. You're not less valuable."

She tried to look away, but he held her gaze. "Okay."

"You don't believe me."

"Not...exactly."

Dropping his hand, he thought for a long while and she tried not to fidget. "You placed your life in my hands, yes?"

"Of course."

"But I also placed my life in your hands. All of you. I would not have done that if I didn't value all of those hands."

She nodded, more to show that she was listening than in agreement.

Takeru took a breath. "It hurts us to think that you believe you're not as important."

She felt her face get warm and tears tried to fall again. "I don't mean to hurt anyone."

"Ah!"

Startled she looked up into his eyes and couldn't look away from more emotion than he'd ever displayed.

"How do you manage to turn everything to make yourself smaller?" Gripping her shoulders, he spoke urgently. "How can you ignore your own value?"

"I...never saw any value in myself," she whispered. She couldn't believe she was saying this to him. Saying it to Chiaki had been hard enough. "I was always called stupid and slow."

His fingers tightened and she made an involuntary noise, which made him let go. "Do you trust me?"

"Of...of course."

He held her gaze again. "Then trust me to know your value."

Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."

"Are you just saying that so I'll go away?"

Her face got warm again. "No, lord. I need to think about this."

He stood. "Think about it." Then he strode to his rooms.

Kotoha knelt there for a long time, thinking. She heard the kuroko shooing away people, but she let them worry about that.

She thought about the children at home and the things her big sister had said. She thought about everything her friends had said, in their own confusing way.

She thought about how she would have felt if any of the others had died and imagined them feeling that way about her.

Then she took her flute outside and played the happiest song she could remember.

-end-