Hearing the bad news, she rapidly turns her head towards the conductor and the princess’ soft features take on a worried look. ( Any halt on their journey only increases the chance of the Kabane attack. There are along the way suitable places where they could stop and repair the train, the next station is still a few days away. They are cut off from any help. )
“Kurusu!” She’s quick to call her loyal bodyguard and her unspoken request is answered with an affirmative reply. ( No doubts that the samurai knew what she wants him to do. ) The heiress approached the conductor quietly.
“You should rest, Yukina-san.” Her hand rests softly on the other’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “The Bushi will start patrolling the area shortly. You need to gather strength for the further journey.” There isn’t anyone who could take the conductor’s place and drive in Yukina’s stead. She is a crucial passenger of the Kōtetsujō. ( Kabane on rampage, hysterical masses, rushed start. No chance to gather the proper crew. )
█┆❜ ♛; 𝓐 protest meets her lips. The coalesced years of disciplining as an ascetic engineer swells within the catacombs of her chest, stirring a potent impulse that nearly goads her to rebuff the princess’ unabated concerns. They are presently short-handed on repairing smiths, and their contemporary site hampers them from any feasible assistance. The Kōtetsujō may be susceptible to peril in its prone state of inactivity. The faster they can repair the locomotive, the faster they can commence with the journey ━ unscathed. Rest is the last thing on the engineer’s mind.
But she detains her tongue, heeding the sudden revelation that the heiress brought forth. Ayame is right; it would not be beneficial for anyone if Yukina were to further exhaust herself. She needs to conserve her strength in order to persist the Kōtetsujō’s smooth passage once the transitory mending is complete.
❝ Yes, my lady. ❞ The taciturn engineer nods resignedly, subdued emotion claws through the ramparts of her rigid features. She wipes her brow with the back of her glove, obliviously marring the pale crest of her forehead with a smear of grease. ❝ … Please forgive me for my inefficiency in such vital circumstance. ❞
