It's possible Akyuu wasn't the last Child of Miare. I spoke no extant human languages, and Yukari, the most likely person to inform me of the Living Memory's reincarnation, was too busy exploring the borders of the universe to show up for fifteen hundred years after my meeting with Akyuu. She might have come back.
But really, I'm done kidding myself. It gets tiresome after a while.
Mokou stared at the objects in Eirin's outstretched hands as if they were weapons. By a broad definition, they were.
"What does that one do?" she asked, nudging her head to the right.
Eirin raised the pill in her left hand. It was a translucent blue, like a marble shaped out of water. "This will eliminate all memories that are a significant strain to you, whether due to size or emotional weight. It will leave those parts of your brain that have to do with skills unaffected. It is very potent, and will buy you at least twenty-five hundred thousand years of continued sanity."
"And the other one?"
Eirin closed her fist around the blue medicine and brought the other pill to the forefront. This one was shimmering silver. "This one removes the most trivial memories you haven't been able to forget naturally. Nothing that you consider to be of value will be touched. Due to this, it will only stave off the rot for fifty thousand years at most."
Mokou placed her hands in her pockets and looked to the east. They were by a sea, with gentle waves lapping dark water onto the rocky shores. All was silent; even the noisy descendants of gulls appeared to be elsewhere for the day.
Mokou kept staring at the horizon as she spoke. "Either way, won't I notice the gaps in my memory?"
"Only in the most abstract sense. You will not miss what you have lost."
"And which one would you pick?"
"You already know that."
Walking away was an option, Mokou reminded herself. It meant making another choice, one between controlled memory loss and full-blown dementia.
Of course, Eirin might still bother to save her if she succumbed to the latter. Might.
She extended her hand. "Give me the silver one."
"Are you sure?"
"I can always take the other one later if it doesn't work out."
The pill had a harsh, metallic taste, which lingered even after she washed it down with tea. Quicksilver. Only this time, it wasn't her who would wind up dead.