Oichi didn't really know how long she had lived here, and it never occurred to her to ask that question. Not when she had more pressing matters to attend to like who all those people around her were. And who she was. They had supplied her with answers, and with their company and she was thankful for it.

Hands of black smoke lift up handfuls of her long, black hair, brushing it very competently for something that you could actually see right through.

Her memory itself was fuzzy, and she had some disturbing blank spots here and there that gave her headaches when she tried to dwell on them, so she had simply let the people around her tell her what to do. Kill people? Kill lots of people? It made no difference to her. Even when blood splattered on her clothes, and on her face, she had simply thought, 'Ah.' and nothing more. It was surprisingly easy, killing people. That part of her memory didn't suffer from blank spots.

Even as she sat in the inner sanctum of the palace they had built for her, the screams in the distance only registered in her mind very dimly. With a quiet sigh, she slumps over and curls up on the floor, not caring about the state of her clothing as she shifts to rest her forehead against the cool, varnished wood floor.