A/N First posted on AO3. Set after the stage play Burning Honnouji. Kinda shippy if you squint.
Like the sun
If he had been forced to choose one thing that he was best at, and if he had been able to speak the answer aloud at all, Yamabagiri Kunihiro would admit that his number one talent was worrying.
From sunrise to sunset he would worry about the things he could see, hear and feel - the way people looked at him, the things people spoke about, the clothes he wore that fit him too well – everything, really. Then, in the dark hours where the sun hid its face and the moon hung high above in cold brilliance, he would worry about all the other things. The dark, the deep, the cutting thoughts that pierced through all of his well built defenses and left him longing for the release of sleep. Then again, in dreams, worries and fears displayed themselves in blinding colour, perhaps more vividly than when he was awake.
Day after day it was the same, had been since he had first set a human foot into this strange, enclosed world. Honestly, the thought of not worrying was terrifying in itself. What would he even think about if he couldn't stress? What would he do if he wasn't hiding himself away? It was impossible, unthinkable. He clung to his worries as fiercely as he held on to his cloak, both overused and unclean.
Being good at worrying didn't mean he enjoyed it. It was, simply, just the way he was. Sometimes he worried that he might be too good at it. Worrying about worrying and then worrying about that as well. An endless cycle, just the same as the rising and setting of sun and moon.
Like the sun.
On this particular day, it was those words that were causing him to worry. Yamanbagiri had wandered through the fields past the other swords working, mind clouded in a dark haze that he briefly worried might be visible to others. Once he was far enough away that the voices of the others couldn't reach him, he sank down into the grass, hood pulled far down over his face, and settled down for a good bout of stress.
Mikazuki Munechika had been the cause of this particular worry, telling him to be like the sun as an instruction in his strange, airy voice. First, Yamabagiri had worried that it had been a joke, something said at his expense. Then, remembering the serious, opalescent light in Mikazuki's eyes, he had worried that it had been said with sincerity.
A joke would have been okay, even if he didn't understand it. A fake, a joke like him, did he really deserve anything more? Better to be laughed at and insulted. At least then he knew that people understood. After all, his performance as a captain had been appalling. He hadn't deserved the position and even though he had tried his best, he had, it had all gone predictably wrong anyway.
No, he wanted people to laugh at him. Sincerity, now, sincerity was worse.
If the advice had been given to him with good intentions, what did that mean? His stomach twisted at the thought, feeling physically sick at the possibility of someone like Mikazuki Munechika, one of the five great swords, worrying about him. He wasn't worthy. Mikazuki had been far too kind during their time together in Honnouji, invested far too much effort in communicating. That was the first problem with the whole thing. Yamanbagiri had never asked for such consideration. If he had been given it in sincerity he had no idea what to do with it now. Did he say 'thank you'? 'Sorry for the inconvenience?' His lips dried out at the mere thought of saying such a stupid thing.
Receiving such advice was a problem. Now that he had fully explored the horrors of such a thing, he moved on to the next thing that was troubling him.
What did it even mean?
He lay back on the grass, letting his hood fall from his face, and squinted up suspiciously at the sun from under the cover of one dirty hand.
The sun. Right. It was... hot. And bright. So bright that his eyes began watering and he was forced to look away, a dark sphere blinking across his vision in a dizzying absence of light. So as well as being so hot that he was sweating, it hurt his eyes as well. The sun didn't seem like a very good thing to be at all. In his experience it just made things easier to see. Things like perfection, or kindness, or love. Impurities could be seen even by moonlight but goodness, innocence, he had only ever been blinded by those during the day. And, like the sun, they left dark patches over his vision, ones that hurt to study.
Like the sun?
"Stupid."
It was easy for Mikazuki. Like the moon he was ethereal, beautiful, precious. Sometimes he showed himself fully, blinding in his radiance, and at other times he would show just a sliver of that light, a knowing smile, a chuckle from behind a raised sleeve. It wasn't about being like the moon, Mikazuki was the moon, as unreachable and unreplacable. Mikazuki was-
Mikazuki was a different matter altogether.
He was supposed to be worrying about the words, about the sun. But it was so warm, wrapped in his cloak out in the open air, a light breeze stroking his cheek. Concentrating was difficult. What had he been worrying at this time? Not Mikazuki, he couldn't worry about someone on that scale while he wasn't at his best, but about the sun, and the moon, and how to be either, or neither, or both.
Yamabagiri thought that maybe he preferred the moon.
If he had been forced to choose his second best skill, and if he had been sleepy enough to be honest, Yamanbagiri would have said that he was talented at falling asleep wherever and whenever the mood took him. Sleep was as stressful as waking but at least his body could rest. He often worried he slept too much and so stubbornly tried to stay awake at night. Daytime was different.
He awoke with a start, opening his eyes and promptly looking directly into the sun. Pressing his palms to his eyes with a groan, he went to sit up but found his progress hampered by a weight on his chest.
Oh god.
What would it be this time? Had he dropped something? Had someone left him a gift? Worse, had someone else fallen asleep on his spot? His vision couldn't clear fast enough and he was already blushing furiously at the mere prospect of future humiliation by the time he was finally able to open his stinging eyes.
The scene was so unreal that it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing.
On his chest, a small and fluffy tiger cub was dozing peacefully. Its whiskers twitched from time to time and he could hear its soft breathing. Further down, across his stomach, another two sprawled, one paw hanging limply over his hip and dangling above the grass. Looking to the side he could see one more cuddled up against his ribs, having burrowed into his cloak. A soft warmth under his knees suggested that one had dug its way under there as well.
Five sleeping tigers. Soft, adorable, innocent cubs.
Gokotai's tigers.
Oh no.
Unsurprisingly, he had managed to make a mistake even while sleeping. He had stolen the tigers. Gokotai was probably frantic with worry, crying, making a scene. Yamanbagiri imagined the whole citadel finding him out here and accusing him of being unfair, of being selfish.
And he was, wasn't he? Because, really, it was sort of nice lying like this with five fluffy little creatures snoring the day away. Watching the one on his chest, he found that he didn't even mind that the weight made it a little hard to breathe. He raised a hand to pet the soft white fur and managed to stop himself from smiling just in time.
No. He didn't deserve this. They were using him for warmth, that was all, and that was fine. His enjoyment didn't matter. That meant he wouldn't move until they were ready, even if his eyes were watering with the brightness of the sun and he was sheeted in sweat from the heat.
What had he been worrying about before this? He was sure it had been important. Oh well. Later he could work it out. For now he had to concentrate on lying still, not breathing too deeply, and definitely not scratching the itch that was tickling one of his legs.
Time passed. He thought he might have dozed off again for a time but couldn't be sure. The tigers were happy and that was what mattered. More than once he had to touch his lips to feel a smile and force it back down again.
"Yamabagiri-san!"
The shout came later, once the sun had begun sinking towards the horizon. He twisted his head painfully to see Gokotai sprinting towards him. At the sound, the tigers began to stir, stretching, digging their claws into his clothes and skin in a sign of appreciation. It hurt. But it was nice, too. He felt suddenly cold as they all piled off of him and began weaving around the legs of their little master.
"Sorry," Yamanbagiri said, voice hoarse with disuse. "I didn't mean to-"
"Thank you for looking after them!"
Caught off guard, he frantically grasped for his hood and pulled it back firmly over his head, hiding his eyes.
"Why are you thanking me?"
"Because they're happy," Gokotai said simply, his innocent smile and bright eyes difficult to look at. "You must make a very good pillow, Yamanbagiri-san."
"But I'm a fake," he heard himself saying, more out of habit than thought. "I'm sure they just couldn't find anyone else so..."
"They like to sleep wherever it's warmest," Gokotai said confidently, picking one up and giving it a squeeze. "It makes them feel safe, I think."
"It's sunny, so..."
"You must be really warm," Gokotai said, still smiling widely.
Like the sun.
Mikazuki's voice slipped back into his mind like a touch in the dark.
Was that... what it had meant? Being warm was just one of those strange human things, it wasn't something he could do. He had to admit he was warmer than before, had been too hot ever since the tigers had arrived, but moving had been unthinkable.
Under the soft light of the sun, Gokotai was smiling at him brightly. As if he could hear. As if he knew.
"Come inside for some water, Yamanbagiri-san," he insisted. "The tigers need some too."
"Y-yeah..."
He had no choice but to get to his feet and follow Gokotai back through the gardens, past the smiling faces of the other swords, past their good natured comments as the little tantou explained what had happened. It was embarrassing. He didn't deserve their praise, so why did his heart feel so light?
On the way inside, one tiger now having been firmly placed in his arms, he caught a glimpse of Mikazuki sitting just inside an opened door. He waved, and smiled, and Yamanbagiri hid his face against the tiger's fur before rushing inside.
The moon was impossible to understand, he thought.
Maybe the sun was easier after all. Maybe 'being warm' could become his third greatest skill, if he put some time aside to really work at it. Next time he was called to battle, he would be ready. He could make sure his team didn't grow cold. And if he could learn to blind the enemy, leave dark spots on their vision, he thought that maybe it would be okay to smile, just once.