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It was supposed to be easy. This was supposed to be a simple, stress-free sortie in a place that their teams had visited countless times before. The Revisionists at Toba were no match for this unit, even with four relatively inexperienced fighters. Kasen and Yamanbagiri had been sent just as a precaution in case things went awry; it wouldn't do to have a team of totally green swords no matter how easy the enemy might be.
Yamanbagiri hadn't really wanted to relinquish his position on Unit One for even one sortie, but the Saniwa had asked and he was obligated to comply. His spot was temporarily assigned to Nansen Ichimonji, a newly manifested sword who had great potential but little experience.
Still, he supposed he shouldn't complain. After all, he was getting to sortie with Kasen for once; they were rarely assigned together for whatever reason. Having someone on sortie with whom he felt comfortable would relieve the awkwardness of having to play nice with veritable strangers, though Yamanbagiri suspected that forcing him to interact with new people was part of Master's plan too. The Saniwa had reasons for everything - sometimes multiple reasons.
A simple, stress-free sortie: that was what was supposed to happen. What really happened was so much worse.
****
Toba was truly stunning at this time of year. Autumn seemed to bring out all the splendor of the shoreline, with lava-red mountains slowly extinguishing themselves in a massive bowl of blue. The air was crisp in a way that felt cozy somehow, as if inviting the inhabitants to cuddle close to their fellows and share warmth. Yamanbagiri was a professional, though, and he was not about to even slightly indicate that he wanted to wrap an arm around the purple-haired uchigatana walking closely to his right.
He was almost afraid to say anything, afraid that if he spoke, he would blurt out something embarassing about feelings or relationships or other topics that he'd rather avoid. Instead, he simply plodded along, achingly aware of Kasen beside him.
Kasen, however, seemed oblivious to this internal struggle as he spoke casually with Nankaitarou about literature. The two apparently shared a common interest in poetry and were, at the moment, animatedly arguing about the merits of Henjō versus Sosei. If it were anyone else, Yamanbagiri would have chastised them, reminding them that they were on sortie now and should remain aware of their surroundings at all times. This was Kasen, though. He was incapable of chastising Kasen about anything, so he just listened miserably, wishing he had the same eloquence of the raven-haired uchigatana.
Before he could fall into a spiral of shame and self-doubt, though, he spotted the glint of a Revisionist's sword halfway up a hill to their right. "There. Let's go."
The team broke into a spint, all conversation ceasing. Yamanbagiri could vaguely hear the panting of the three straggling team members - Taikou Samonji, Chiganemaru, and Oochidori Juumonji - behind their leading group, but he ignored this subtle protest. These three obviously needed to spend more time working out and less time lounging around if they were going to make themselves useful to the citadel. To that end, he ran a little faster out of pure spite; tough love was his specialty. Except for Kasen, he supposed.
As they ran, he tried to envision what a good formation might be based on his experience from previous sorties in Toba. Three uchigatanas, a wakizashi, a tanto, and a yari was a bit of a strange assemblage, but he was sure he could make it work somehow. He was startled out of his reflections when Kasen spoke.
"They usually go for horizontal here, don't they? Standing in a line across a mountain pass. Maybe a wing attack?" Kasen tilted his head to look at Yamanbagiri, his teal eyes glinting.
Yamanbagiri should have been annoyed; after all, he was the captain and, therefore, in charge of choosing a formation. However, Kasen's advice was sound and, as the other experienced fighter here, he supposed that his input was valid. It certainly wasn't because he'd gladly jump off a cliff if Kasen asked ... no, it was purely a professional acknowledgment of a fellow expert.
"Yeah. But we'll have to see." He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword as he ran, rubbing his thumb across the wrapping in a self-soothing gesture. Master was an idiot for putting them together; he couldn't focus on anything in the presence of the purple-haired uchigatana. Kasen had a powerful distracting effect.
Nankaitarou seemed about to speak, probably to offer some stupid half-baked opinion, but he quickly shut up when he noticed Yamanbagiri's glare. It was bad enough to have his scouting skills subtly questioned by Kasen, but he certainly wouldn't let anyone else get away with it. The three other members of the unit, a few paces behind, were too busy wheezing and complaining to contribute anything else worthless to the discussion. Yamanbagiri was going to have some words with the master about mandatory training to ensure that swords weren't completely winded by an easy mountain jog: this was absolutely unacceptable.
Still, they were making good time, halfway up the mountain now and quickly closing in on the hulking Revisionists. They were, just as Kasen suspected, standing stupidly in a row, advancing slowly. He turned his head to shout back at the other team members, who were still a short distance back. "Wing formation. Taikou, Chigamaneru, left and right front. Kasen, Nankaitarou, mid left, mid right. Oochidori, right rear. I'm rear left." He really should have taken rear right to better support the newbie uchigatana, but he supposed he could give himself just a little concession here to stay a bit closer to Kasen.
Yamanbagiri idly remembered that this was their typical formation because merchants used this road to bring supplies to a small mountain castle that might otherwise be cut off; the daimyo there would soon have a significant role in quelling rebellions, so disrupting travel to the castle might prevent the daimyo from hearing news of unrest elsewhere. Merchants typically passed only once or twice a day, so they had plenty of time to fight off the Revisionists without risking any harm to humans. It really should be a very easy sortie.
It would be made all the easier by Kasen's casual comment as all six unsheathed their weapons. The purple-haired uchigatana tossed a friendly smile back at the captain while the unit took its positions. "I look forward to seeing you in action, Yamanbagiri."
****
All was going well for the first few moments of battle. Oochidori's long reach enabled him to skewer a wakizashi almost immediately; Taikou and Chigamaneru were bravely facing off with two tantos, parrying and thrusting with decent mobility. Nankaitarou wasn't quite as foppish and feeble as Yamanbagiri had suspected, expertly attacking an uchigatana with easy, flowing swipes. Usually Yamanbagiri would have selected the largest enemy for himself, but he supposed that giving a newbie some prestige wasn't such a bad thing.
Kasen, of course, was having no problem with a rather devious wakizashi. Yamanbagiri caught glimpses of him while he squared off with his own enemy, admiring his speedy footwork and excellent blade control. Perhaps he was watching Kasen a bit too much, because he nearly caught a slice to the arm; shaking his head to clear it of romantic bullshit, he refocused himself and quickly dispatched the tanto before him.
But maybe he should have been paying more attention to Kasen, and to everyone else. As he moved to help Nankaitarou, Taikou screamed hysterically, cornered by a newly-arrived uchigatana as Chigamaneru tried ineffectually to get to his teammate. The little tanto had dropped his weapon in terror and was curling in on himself as if cowering would prevent his death.
Before Yamanbagiri could move, he caught a flash of purple hair and the sweep of a dark cloak, then heard the hiss of a dematerializing Revisionist. Kasen had neatly sidestepped in front of Taikou and swept his blade right through the uchigatana, finishing the enemy with one strike. He then knelt to help Taikou up, reassuring him that accidents happen but that he needed to be more careful next time.
Kasen really should have taken his own advice, because as he straightened to turn away from the frightened tanto, a wakizashi plunged into his chest.
The next few moments happened so quickly that Yamanbagiri couldn't process the chain of events until much later. He was barely aware of his own movements, just that there had been a uchigatana in front of him and Nankaitarou, then there was not. There was a tanto attacking the distracted Chigamaneru, then there was not. The wakizashi that had stabbed Kasen was there, then it was not. Who had defeated all of them? Was it Oochidori? Nankaitarou? Him? He didn't know, just that they were there one moment, black mist the next.
Then there was just Kasen on his knees, wheezing and clutching his chest.
****
The other four members of the unit stood back ineffectually, obviously shocked and overwhelmed: none of them had been in battle before and had no clue as to the procedure for helping a seriously wounded teammate. Yamanbagiri shoved them aside, knocking Taikou down as he rushed to kneel beside Kasen. The purple-haired uchigatana just stared at him as if equally baffled by the situation.
"Let me see." He gently prised Kasen's hands away from the wound, wincing at how deeply the blade had rent his flesh. It was bleeding heavily, the blood renewing itself each time he tried to wipe some away to assess the damage. He noticed, with horror, that Kasen's skin was leached of color; he was turning an ashen grey mere moments after being wounded.
When Yamanbagiri removed his hands, Kasen's automatically sprung back, moving into a fixed position which he could not control. The wounded uchigatana continued to stare at the captain wordlessly; his eyes seemed wordless too. Kasen didn't look scared, or angry, or even in pain, the agony probably masked by the shock. No, his eyes were glazed over, stripped of emotion. It was almost as if he wasn't really looking at anyone or anything, eyes inert, simply open out of habit - it was the most terrifying thing Yamanbagiri had ever seen.
He gripped Kasen's bloody digits with his own, noting with cold terror that they were now cool to the touch, then turned back to his teammates still standing a short distance away.
"Send yourselves back." He watched in frustration as the four retrieved their time devices in stunned silence. Well, three of them did.
****
"I ... I can't find mine," Taikou whimpered. "I must have dropped it while we were running."
Yamanbagiri cursed under his breath. Of course the little idiot would have lost the most precious piece of equipment when they had no time to waste. Now he had a terrible dilemma on his hands: he couldn't send Kasen back alone, he couldn't send Taikou to retrieve his time device alone, and he couldn't leave before the rest of the team. He supposed he could split up the team, with one of the actually-reliable team members going back with Kasen and one escorting Taikou to find his device. This would be the most reasonable option, certainly the most recommended one.
But ... he didn't want to leave Kasen. He couldn't leave Kasen. What if he broke? What if this was the last time he ever saw him?
No, he told himself, a captain should remain with his wounded team member. That, too, was part of the code of honor: never leave anyone behind. He would stay here with Kasen until they could all leave safely, keeping him comfortable and trying to quell his own fear.
"You four. Go find Taikou's device." As he spoke, he gently lowered Kasen to the ground, supporting his back and moving as slowly as possible to avoid injuring him further. If the other four protested, he ignored them, too focused on Kasen's shallow breathing and the glassy look in his eyes. All he heard were those raspy exhalations and the sound of quietly padding feet walking away.
With great care, Yamanbagiri searched Kasen for his time device. He knew the other uchigatana kept it tucked into his obi, so he delicately slid his hand under the cloth, then hissed when a shard of glass bit his finger: it had been shattered by the impact of the wakizashi's blade. Damnit. A bad situation was getting even worse; it was almost impossible to transport a touken without their time device. He'd have to ask one of the others to return to the citadel and request a manual retrieval, which would take even more of the dwindling time needed to save Kasen.
Still, he pulled out the damaged device, hoping that it might be at least somewhat fuctional. His luck was clearly terrible today: it was totally destroyed. There would be no way to send Kasen back unless he figured something else out.
There was only one thing left to do in the moment, which was pray that Kasen had an omamori. He hadn't felt one in his obi; usually touken kept their omamori next to their time devices so that all their essential equipment was close at hand. If he didn't have an omamori, then ....
Yamanbagiri wasn't sure if the powers of the protection charm could be transferred between touken, but it was worth a shot. He pulled out his own and pressed it to Kasen's chest, sliding it between his stiff fingers.
This little action stirred the uchigatana, whose eyes suddenly focused on Yamanbagiri. His lips, slightly speckled with blood, turned upwards in a weak smile. "Yaman...ba...."
"Don't talk. Just stay still." Yamanbagiri hoped his voice sounded firm and authoritative, but he could hear the hysterical tremble in his words.
Kasen didn't listen; maybe he hadn't really heard the command, or maybe he was just willful. "This is ... a very inelegant way to go."
"Good thing you're not going anywhere but home, then." Yamanbagiri pushed the omamori further into Kasen's death grip as if closer contact would better protect him, though he worried that it was entirely useless.
The omamori slipped through Kasen's fingers as the wounded uchigatana raised a trembling hand toward Yamanbagiri's face, clumsily stroking his straw-yellow hair. His smile widened slightly and Yamanbagiri saw his teeth were stained bright red. "But at least the last thing I see will be the most beautiful."
****
If anyone else said that, even as their last words, Yamanbagiri would be angry. He hated being called pretty, or cute, or handsome, or beautiful, or anything that positively described his physical appearance. He was a copy; copies are just dim shadows of that which they replicate. But to hear those words from Kasen was always somehow soothing, an indicator that he had some value in this world. To hear them as Kasen's ....
No, not as a last anything from Kasen. He assured himself that he would hear them again and again, a million times over, and he'd appreciate every iteration as much as this, here in the blaze of autumn with the two of them alone. If Kasen weren't bleeding everywhere, he'd almost consider this romantic.
The blood was still flowing - so, so much blood. He whipped off his cloak and folded it neatly, then pressed it to the wound. As Kasen's hand dropped from his face, he folded it over the cloth. "Hold this as tightly as you can."
He also pressed his hands there, atop Kasen's freezing digits, hoping that the pressure would abate the bleeding at least a little. The tattered white cloth was quickly saturated, its frayed fabric eagerly absorbing the vital fluid; Yamanbagiri noted despairingly that even the increased force against the wound was doing little to stem the tide.
Kasen wasn't looking at him anymore: his eyes were focused on the sky above, tracking the crimson spiral of a few falling leaves. He still had a vacant smile on his lips, which were slowly turning crimson as small trickles of blood wetted the skin. "Do you remember when we ...."
"Stop," Yamanbagiri whispered. "Please stop."
It wasn't that he didn't want to hear Kasen's reminiscences, though he was pretty sure what he was referring to: the time they went to the forest together and wrote poetry. Yamanbagiri's was terrible, but Kasen encouraged him and reassured him that no one could be as bad at waka as Izuminokami. They'd laughed together then, watching the leaves whisper to one another and the river rush toward places unknown. It was a memory he held close to heart, one that warmed him during cold nights on survey and cooled his nerves in the heat of battle.
No, it was that every word Kasen spoke drained his energy a little more, and he had so little energy left to exert. With each moment that passed Yamanbagiri could feel him slip a little further away, his breath coming slower and shallower. His eyes seemed dim, and the blond uchigatana wondered if Kasen could actually see the leaves, the sky, the shimmering forest. Each time he blinked, his eyes stayed closed a little longer until eventually, they were barely open at all, just little slits of ocean veiled by dark lashes.
"Look at me." Yamanbagiri didn't really ask: he pleaded, tears welling in his own eyes.
If Kasen was really going to die, he did want to be the last thing he saw. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but if there was a moment to be selfish, to demand the attention of the person he loved so much, he supposed it would be now. It didn't matter that he was crying, and that he hated others to see him cry; Kasen had seen him weep before. There was no need to fear weakness when there was so much else to fear.
Kasen complied, his gaze lazily drifting from the azure sky to Yamanbagiri's azure eyes. "So beautiful," he murmured.
"The others will be back soon and we'll go home," Yamanbagiri said, praying that his quivering voice sounded at least slightly calm and reassuring. In reality, he was saying it more to reassure himself. The others would come back, and he would find a way to get Kasen home, and Kasen would be okay. This was how it had to be because any other outcome was unimaginable. He squeezed Kasen's hands a little tighter, noting that they were both very cold and very limp; he tried to illicit some response by pressing a fingernail into the uchigatana's skin, but Kasen did not react.
"Home," Kasen repeated softly. He blinked heavily, and his eyes took a long moment to focus on Yamanbagiri's again. It was clear he was on the brink of unconsciousness, and Yamanbagiri feared that if he did fall asleep, he'd never wake up. He carefully removed his blood-soaked hands from atop Kasen's and gripped his face, smearing red across the wounded touken's cheeks.
"Look at me," Yamanbagiri demanded, his voice trembling almost beyond recognition. Kasen did not look at him, though. He didn't look at anything; his eyes closed and his breathing faltered. Yamanbagiri shook him savagely, trying to rouse him again, but it was useless: he was beyond wakening now, slowly sinking into endless sleep.
****
The pounding of feet informed Yamanbagiri that the rest had returned. Now, with a totally unconscious Kasen and a pack of useless touken, he had to figure out how to return them all to the citadel. There was a possibility that he could send both of them back using his own time device, like divers might buddy-breathe using one tank of air. However, he wasn't sure that it would be enough, so he beckoned the others over.
"His time device is broken. We're going to all take hold of him and press our own devices at the same time. Maybe it'll work."
"Probably the only option," Oochidori agreed, crouching beside Yamanbagiri and taking hold of Kasen's right arm; Nankaitarou slipped past them to grab Kasen's left, while Chigamaneru and Taikou held the uchigatana's legs tightly. Kasen didn't react in the least to these movements, his body limp and still. Only the slightest rise of his chest indicated that he wasn't yet lost.
"Is he going to die?" Chigamaneru asked, his eyes wet with tears.
Yamanbagiri ignored the question as he returned one hand to hold Kasen's, the other holding his own device. He couldn't answer it, and he didn't want to, so he simply continued to look down at the uchigatana who had nearly lost his life protecting his comrades. Nearly, because there was no way Yamanbagiri would let him die.
"On the count of three."
As he counted down, he stared at Kasen's closed eyes, his red lips, his ashen cheeks now smeared with blood. With each number he silently said a prayer.
I haven't even said the most important things yet. Give me the chance.
"One."
We have so much yet to do, Kasen. Live.
"Two."
You have to stay with me. You said you like to spend time with me, so spend forever with me. Please.
"Three."
With that, five touken simultaneously activated their time devices, and six touken melted into time-space.
****
All was chaos when they returned: Oochidori and Nankaitarou ran for a stretcher while Taikou and Chigamaneru simply panicked, screaming for help. Touken seemed to pour from every orifice of the citadel, asking a million questions and trying their best to offer aid. Yamanbagiri ignored them, though, frozen in place beside Kasen; one hand still gripped Kasen's as the other still gripped his own time device. He felt fixed in time, his gaze pinned on Kasen's ashen face, on his still lashes and slightly parted mouth. He didn't know what to do, what he could do that would make any difference, so he just crouched there, clutching Kasen's limp hands and staring at his empty expression.
Finally someone - he thought it might be Ishikirimaru, because they were certainly too tall and strong to be Yagen - softly pushed him aside as three touken lifted Kasen onto the gurney.
"Are you hurt?" someone asked him. He was too overwhelmed to note who that was either.
"Yamanbagiri! Are you hurt?" Whoever it was grabbed both his shoulders and yanked him upright none too gently. If he actually was hurt, that was likely a terrible idea; only a few touken have such terrible ideas, so he knew then that it was probably Tsurumaru.
"No. Get off me." He swatted a pale hand off his shoulder - yes, it was Tsurumaru - and tried to follow the quickly retreating gurney, but his legs suddenly gave out. The tachi pulled him up once more, this time assisted by Shokudaikiri.
"I said get off me!" Yamanbagiri shoved them both away, ignoring their protests, and staggered off toward the entryway. He could hear them following, insisting that he stop and take a moment to collect himself, but he ignored them. Did it really matter if he fell again? He could fall down right here, crack his head open, and it still wouldn't hurt as much as knowing that he'd failed. He'd let Kasen get horribly injured on the battlefield, and he didn't save him.
His egress toward the veranda and, hence, to the repair room, was suddenly halted when he ran into a broad, blue-robed chest. Yamanbagiri looked up to see the strange eyes of Mikazuki regarding him with an inscrutable expression. Why was he here? Wasn't Unit One off on sortie?
"Unit One returned an hour ago," Mikazuki explained, as if hearing his question. That explained why he hadn't yet changed into his loungewear, Yamanbagiri supposed.
The tachi's lip quirked slightly. "This is not behavior befitting a captain. Sit down."
Yamanbagiri growled. "I'm not your dog. I don't have to follow your orders. I need to see Kasen."
"Seeing him won't change anything," Mikazuki responded calmly. "It will, however, send you into greater panic. Please sit."
"No!" Yamanbagiri shoved him, but his fellow Unit One member was not quite as easily deterred as Tsurumaru and Shokudaikiri: he remained standing, unyielding even as Yamanbagiri tried again to push him aside. On the third attempt, Mikazuki simply grabbed his arms and neatly turned him around, then frog-marched him to the veranda, where he pressed on Yamanbagiri's shoulders until he had no choice but to sit.
"Bastard," Yamanbagiri hissed, teeth gritted. His hands dug into his jeans, almost ripping a hole in them. Not that it would matter; a copy like him deserved nothing more than rags.
Mikazuki just chuckled: he always seemed to laugh at the most aggravating things. "Kogistunemaru, would you mind lending him your cup?"
Yamanbagiri suddenly noticed the presence of several other touken, including the aforementioned tachi, seated near him on the veranda. He had been so focused on escape that he hadn't realized there were nearly a dozen touken nearby waiting to approach. He glowered at them, wanting nothing more than to run to the repair room and sit beside Kasen. Even if he couldn't do anything to help, at least he would be there; at least Kasen might feel his presence, know he had stuck by him, that he would never leave.
However, he knew better than to try to flee: Mikazuki, despite his supposed antiquity, was faster than him. He was sure that the tachi and his fellows would simply chase him down and force him to return, so he might as well just sit and wait for them to give up.
Nikkari approached with a bowl of warm water and towel to wipe the blood from his face; Yamanbagiri nearly snarled at him. The wakizashi, however, was not deterred, swiping the cloth across his dirty cheek. Seeing the aggressive twist of his mouth, Nikkari gripped Yamanbagiri's jaw through the towel, smiling calmly.
"Don't try to bite me. I'll bite back." With that warning, he continued to scrub away the dried blood and dirt until the towel was rust-red.
It took Nikkari several passes to be satisfied with the results; then, he turned his attention to Yamanbagiri's bloody hands, enfolding them in the towel and rubbing vigorously. Defeated, the uchigatana simply allowed Nikkari to complete his ministrations.
When the wakizashi departed, Shokudaikiri appeared with a plate of cut vegetables. Yamanbagiri shook his head: the idea of eating at a time like this was unfathomable, and he assured himself that if anyone tried to force him to, he'd throw them onto the roof. Thankfully, Shokudaikiri simply left the plate beside him and took his leave as well.
Gradually all the other touken left with the exception of Kogitsunemaru, Uguisumaru, and Mikazuki. Yamanbagiri hadn't actually drunk from Kogistunemaru's cup but the fox-eared tachi hadn't taken it back, instead contenting himself with brushing his hair. The four of them sat in silence while Yamanbagiri clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting for Mikazuki to let his guard down so he could leave.
"It's good to be surrounded by friends at a time like this," Mikazuki commented mildly, as if hearing Yamanbagiri's silent protestations. "It will keep you from despairing."
Somehow this was the most enraging thing Yamanbagiri had heard in years. Who cared if he despaired? All this was his fault. If he had been a more capable captain, if he had paid more attention to his surroundings, if he hadn't been so goddamn careless, none of this would have happened. He failed his unit, he failed his teammates ... he failed Kasen. The one person he never wanted to disappoint.
It took great self-control not to sock Mikazuki in the face for this little aphorism; however, he knew that it would instantly become a three-on-one battle, and though he trusted his skills against one touken, there would be no way he could overpower all three tachis. Instead, he just set his jaw and dug his nails into his hands until, faintly, he felt his skin begin to tear.
The four of them sat there mostly in silence for what felt like a millennium. Together they watch the sun kiss the horizon, then watched the moon rise and the stars appear. The other three touken talked occasionally, but Yamanbagiri remained stiff and still, gaze vacant and eyes heavy. His eyelids began to feel unbelievably dense; he scooted closer to one of the porch's posts and leaned against it, blinking slower and slower until finally, he stopped blinking at all.
****
When Yamanbagiri opened his eyes again, the sun had reappeared, peeking tentatively over the fields. He noticed that he had a heavy yellow robe draped across his shoulders; it smelled a bit like dog, and he wrinkled his nose. No, more like fox, he supposed.
The owner of the cloak, Kogistunemaru, was curled up nearby, ears twitching slightly in sleep: Kogistunemaru had stayed with him all night on the porch? He'd even retrieved his own robe as a blanket for Yamanbagiri. It was a strangely intimate gesture that, in normal times, might make him deeply uncomfortable; today, though, after all he'd been through, he felt himself more appreciative than disturbed. He wasn't sure why, exactly, the tachi had kept him company - nor why any of the three who had been with him the evening prior had bothered. Nevertheless, he supposed he should be grateful that anyone still cared about him after he'd failed so disastrously as a captain.
He realized then that he hadn't woken naturally: someone was softly shaking his shoulder. Yamanbagiri glanced up to see Yagen, who looked just as exhausted as he felt.
"Kasen's awake." The tanto smiled, and Yamanbagiri couldn't help but smile slightly in return as he registered the words. He's awake. That means he's alive. He was awake, and alive.
Yamanbagiri rose quickly, stretching his sore legs, then looked to the slumbering Kogistunemaru, who had not yet been roused. He carefully removed the robe from his own shoulders and lay it across the sleeping tachi, then followed Yagen toward the repair room.
The first thing Yamanbagiri noticed was how very alive Kasen looked. That would seem obvious, but after seeing him so ashen and limp, it was a remarkable sight, one that warmed every cell in his body. He was alive. His skin was back to its normal rose blush; his eyes were bright and alert, though a little sleepy. He looked so very wonderful, so very here. It was the most beautiful thing Yamanbagiri had ever seen, and he had to look away for a moment as his eyes filled with tears; he quickly wiped them, playing it off as rearranging his hair.
What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry I fucked up. I'm glad you're okay. I was so scared; don't ever scare me like that again. Gods, I'm so sorry Kasen. All of those admissions seemed frighteningly intimate, more than he could handle. So, instead, he simply sat beside the bed and waited for Kasen to speak.
When Kasen did break the silence, Yamanbagiri simply stared at him, stunned but bemused, as Yagen quietly left the room.
"Sorry I ruined your cloak."
****
"I ...." Yamanbagiri had no idea how to respond. The cloak was the least of his worries on a good day, but here, after he could have lost the person he loved most, it was a nonexistent concern.
Fortunately, though, Kasen laughed. "I'm kidding. I'm not sorry - it's a good excuse to buy you a new one."
"I don't need a new one," Yamanbagiri muttered. He wanted desperately to leap atop the other uchigatana, to hold him close and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he simply sat there, rooted to the chair, as his eyes watered.
Kasen laughed again, softer now. "Then I suppose I'll just have to scrub the bloodstains out of it. Apologies in advance - it may take me a while." He yawned, clearly still tired after repairs. It didn't seem as if he was subtly asking Yamanbagiri to leave, though, so the uchigatana stayed still, watching him anxiously.
The two simply stared at one another for a long moment; Yamanbagiri realized that Kasen was waiting for him to respond in some way, but he had no idea what to say. More specifically, he had no idea how to say all that was brewing within him, how to word all these confessions and admissions and apologies. He had never been one for heartfelt discussions, nor of openly admitting his feelings, and so the idea of saying even one thing was more daunting than any battle. The blond dropped his eyes, staring at his folded hands, vision wavering through the tears in his eyes.
After a moment or two, Yamanbagiri heard Kasen shift and sit up, then saw the other uchigatana's hand rest atop his own.
"Don't blame yourself," Kasen said gently. "There was nothing you could have done. These things happen sometimes."
"I didn't say anything," Yamanbagiri responded, his voice almost silent. It was, indeed, what he had been thinking, though: how to apologize a thousand times over for not being fast enough, brave enough, good enough to prevent Kasen from being so horribly injured.
"You think quite loudly, Yamanbagiri," Kasen chuckled, squeezing his hand.
Yamanbagiri remembered the first time Kasen had said that to him: when they had lied together in his bedroom, wrapped up in a warm embrace. It was also the first time he had felt so very needed and loved, as if he belonged in the world; he had been brave then in a way that required no physical prowess or tactical acumen. Since he felt decidedly bereft of those two traits at the moment, he decided he would again show bravery in this soft way Kasen had revealed to him, this way that somehow mattered so much more than any feats of strength.
He brought his chair forward; Kasen obediently slid back and pressed himself against the wall. Closing his eyes, Yamanbagiri slipped his hand from under Kasen's, bringing it to the other uchigatana's soft cheek, and leaned forward. Their lips touched for a long, tender moment before Yamanbagiri enfolded Kasen in a tight embrace, dropping his head onto that delicate shoulder which had such suprising strength. Kasen leaned his head against Yamanbagiri's and gave a sigh of great contentment.
Yamanbagiri gave a similar sigh, rubbing his thumb across Kasen's neck. He didn't need to say anything else, didn't need to explain himself or apologize or acknowledge the awful sortie that nearly took this beautiful uchigatana away from him.
No, all he had to say was the logical response to Kasen's comment, the one that said something much different - that expressed his love in the incomprehensible phraseology unique to each couple, formed from conversations no one else would understand.
"I don't think that's how it works."