The first time he asked, he was met with a sharp inhale and narrowed, appraising eyes.
"Kashuu Kiyomitsu," Mutsunokami Yoshiyuki has been nothing but accommodating right from the moment of his arrival. However, in that instance, it felt like they were dumped right back in the past, a line drawn between them as enemies and allies. "It would be best for you to never mention that name around the Master, or anyone else for that matter."
The topic was closed around Mutsunokami from that instance, his questions always cut off with a shake of the head or a pause and a grin before he's blatantly ignored.
The second time Kashuu asked, it was to the master himself.
The man had at first smiled – a brittle glass-like thing, really, which held no chance against whatever weight he's been carrying, because – tears soon escaped the corners of his eyes and the man was furiously scrubbing at his eyes, muttering apologies which Kashuu really didn't understand (and now he does).
"Eh? H-Hey! Why're you crying?!" Kashuu is unashamed to admit he panicked, faced with a suddenly broken master where his previous one had never so much as bulked when slashed. "I get it, I get it! I won't ask anymore, so…please feel better…?"
He patted the man's back hesitantly.
Mutsunokami was pissed when he returned to see their master red-eyed and sniffling (but still insisting he never cried), but he grinned anyway, putting up a façade as he shoo-ed him away.
He hadn't dared ask again for a long time.
The third time had been after the sortie to the Ikeda Inn.
As manifestation of the sword spirits themselves, they're able to see the spirits that linger within the swords, and the connection goes both ways since they were given mortal bodies visible to even people of the past.
Kashuu was assigned to the first floor, but he had arrived as support just in time to catch the scream of his past self and see himself rapidly fading when two parts of a sword fell to the ground. This part, he hadn't minded so much, because he's seen it repeatedly in his dreams from this same angle, and he's come to terms with his own death (just barely).
No.
What caught his attention was the other spirits on that floor -
Kanesada and Horikawa, both past and present, were still downstairs on the first floor, but that's fine since he's had more than enough of their flirting. Nagasone – of the past of course, because the present one has yet to arrive – was standing by his master's side, a look of fury crossing his face as Kondo brushed away his enemies.
Then there was Yasusada, who's standing by Okita's fallen form.
Yasusada, who's choking back tears as he crumpled to the floor too, eyes fixated on his broken blade.
He…cried? Somebody cried for him…?
(Why?
Why isn't Yasusada here now—)
But he didn't have enough time to think and Kashuu replaced his thoughts with actions, sword flicking as he danced around the room, backing up Yagen wherever he could (to distract himself) to push the main force of the retrograde army out of the Inn, kick their asses till they deem it sufficient to retreat –
It's in the aftermath that the thoughts finally return to him, killing whatever appetite his body had tried to conjure. Kashuu crouched by the side of his dresser table, feeling much too like a child as he buried his face in his knees and tried not to remember Yasusada's face in that instance, tried to stifle the longing urge that's bubbling up in his chest, tried to hold back the wimpy tears that make him disgusted at himself.
Horikawa soon opened the door to his room, followed by a whining, complaining Kanesada.
Kashuu choked on a laugh, hiding away his face as he did that.
How typical.
"…Kiyomitsu?" Horikawa cocked his head in concern.
"Oi. Why're you skipping out on dinner? Because of you, I can't get to start-WOAH! Y-Y-Y-You…That face!"
"If you're hungry, then you can just go stuff your face in." Kiyomitsu scoffed, hiding away his face again. "I'll be fine alone here for a while. Nobody will love me if I go out like that right now anyways."
"Right. Because they'll be running a mile from you the moment they see your face."
"Kanesan."
"That face is scary." Kanesada shrugged, earning a sigh from his partner. "I'm just gonna go out and stand guard."
Right. You go do that, he wanted to say, but Horikawa had knelt down to his level at that moment, plopping right beside him and causing his throat to constrict around the words before they got the chance to leave.
The soft padding of footsteps trailed out of the room and the doors slid close softly, lending an illusion of privacy.
Aaah…Geez. Kanesada might think he's too weak to retort properly now.
It's unfair, he thinks, how Horikawa supports Kanesada like that. It's unfair, how he doesn't have a partner of his own to make it a fight with equal numbers. Life's pretty unfair all around.
"Hey…" He coughed out with a strangled voice. He needed no urging from Horikawa to admit it. "Where is Yasusada?"
The question made Horikawa go still.
Yasusada and him were not close. They never were, because at the end of it, they were just swords used by the same talented master who they were blessed with. Swords that can only be used in the stead of each other at that. But…the fact is that they had trained together under the same master; they had both cried when Okita fell; …Yasusada had cared enough for Kashuu to cry when he broke. So…Why hasn't that same Yasusada came to the citadel yet even after so long?
He took a shaky breath, clenching fists on his knees.
"Why isn't he here?" Aaah…he's so pathetic. He wouldn't be loved if he was this clingy, would he? And here he thought he might be contented with just having the master love him... "What…happens to swords around here if they're broken? …Hey, answer me!"
Right. …Right.
The first time, Mutsunokami had been bringing him around because the master recently lost some troops and was busying himself reallocating the men. The second time wasn't too long after his arrival. At that point, he had already vaguely suspected it. But he tried to convince himself, that he was fine without Yasusada, that Yasusada might eventually come—
But he's tired of it.
"…Just tell me the truth."
Horikawa hesitated before he exhaled – a subtle resignation that made Kashuu look up despite his make-up tracks, knowing he would be let into the secret now. The wakizashi of Hijikata reluctantly leaned in, snaking a vice-grip around his shoulder.
It's meant to be reassuring, and yet, all Kashuu could derive from the gesture was trepidation.
"It's common knowledge around here…or at least, to the ones who were here since the beginning." Horikawa spoke in a whisper, turquoise eyes dodging to the paper-thin doors warily. "For whatever reason it may be…when the swords of this citadel are broken…it's impossible for us to return, whether as a copy or fake."
"Eh…?" Kashuu squeezed himself tighter. Was he telling him that afterall…? That-
"And even though the master and Mutsunokami try their best to keep us all in our best condition…there are swords that have been lost." Horikawa seem pained, eyes going distant as if peering into the past. "It's on the first sortie. On that mission, the enemies they faced were far stronger than anticipated. Save for one, the entire team was annihilated."
-Yasusada – he's –
"And among them…Yamatonokami…he was one of them."
-gone-?
.
.
.
-x-
#1: Black Cat
-x-
His own pants are awfully loud in his ears. By now, his arms have gone numb, trembling from the many slashes he had been making since sunset. But after finishing this final one, it should end…probably.
Kashuu inhales sharply, wincing at the pain of his wounds, and forces himself to chase after that one last retrograde army. No thoughts enter his head. He tries not to think of questions like Why have they appeared at this time period? What are they aiming for? Who are they targeting? as he hunted his foe down. As much as he likes to think about how colourful his report to the master might be, distractions like these are as life-threatening as blades.
He finds the foe sneaking between dark alleyways (That's strange).
Dashing up to him from behind, he murmurs the usual words under his breath, red eyes narrowing and sword readjusted in his grip.
"Anyone who sees me naked…shall die…!"
Greenish blood is sent spurting.
Kashuu flicks his blade to remove the gross stuff before sliding it back into his sheath.
"Geez…This is more trouble than I planned for." He exhales shakily, still trying to catch his breath as he looks down at his shredded shirt. "Look. The precious clothes master gave me are all ruined because of you…" He murmurs darkly.
Would the master mind if he spends some money to get some clothes? It's not like they don't have half of the pouch still-full after Kashuu was done haggling with the store owner. Though…some of the groceries he dropped when he took chase may have to be replaced. Tch.
Kashuu toys with the pouch, throwing it up and down as he strides back to where he left the groceries. Mind now freed from the stress of fighting, he lets it stray back to the more troubling matters.
He doesn't understand, not one bit. The master chose this time-period specifically to get his usual batch of supplies because there shouldn't be any risks to his shopping swords. (They've long noticed the appearances of their foe only at battlefields where there are swords.) So, why did the retrograde army show up? Or rather…Is he still required to give a report even though it's not a sortie? It sounds really troublesome…
And speaking of troublesome.
Kashuu scowls as he's surrounded, this time by several humans dressed rather unglamorously in dark shades. What are their names again…? Hoodies, beanies, and slacks…? It's the type of clothes master never wears, so he never really paid attention…
"Hey, Bro. Why don't you hand over your money obediently and we'll let you off easy?" The one with crooked jaw sneers.
Kashuu's brow twitches.
"Uhhh…I'm holding a sword, if you hadn't noticed." He points out the obvious instead, hoping it could get the message across.
"And we're holding bats and daggers too. So you better do what's best for yourself." Nope. Zip. Nada. It still hadn't entered his thick skull yet.
"Uhhhhhh…" Urgh. Why him? All he wanted to do was just to get some groceries back for Master! "Let's see…Let's agree to disagree for now, shall we? I'll come back and we can do this another day, so could you let me off for today?" He suggests.
"As if we will!"
He dodges the first one by pushing him down by the head and jumping over him. The next swing of the bat meets his sheath – Kashuu twitches in irritation, because what if they hurt his real body?! – and he quickly jabs the end of his sword to the guy's face. Another one charges at him foolishly, a penknife in hand. Kashuu breaks that one too, having enough of blades for one day.
Absorbed in his task, Kashuu fails to notice a set of footsteps trailing up from behind him.
"Geez…!" He exclaims, frustrated. "That's why Ishikirimaru should have been sent, instead of me! Ootachi are so much better at bug-removal - Guh!"
A sudden blow to his head makes the world spin around.
Kashuu curses lightly as he drops to the ground, seeing yet another one who had been sneaking up on him. D-Damn it all…So he beats a bunch of retrograde assailants, but he loses to a couple of puny humans, huh… He's sooo dreading the report that's definitely coming up.
-x-
It's a black one this time.
A black kitten.
He's…not very good with black kittens.
His phone buzzes. He plucks it out of his cardigan pocket.
Make sure to take care of my animals while I'm gone, okay?! An overly cheerful message, with lots of emojis and a full line of animals below. Hens, pigs, Kamekichi's…dogs, rats…black cats.
It's a bit late, but should he remind the other he's not in the veterinary science department?
Standing in the alleyway, the youth in his late teens heaves a soft sigh and pulls off his dark oversized cardigan. He leans down despite the blood, gingerly wrapping the tiny, bleeding animal in the coat. It's tiny, enveloped in the large cloth. He would almost be inclined to think of it as adorable if it isn't black in colour.
A groan catches his attention.
The youth looks up, and deadpans at the figure he catches sight of.
"…Were you just bullied, slashed, or are you taking a quick nap in the trash bin?" He asks, amused at how the other youth – just a bit taller than him with the heeled boots – is curled in on himself, gaping chest bleeding out but still heaving with soft snores as the other slept.
The student chuckles lightly, covering his lips politely when the other shifts and grumbles in his sleep. He sighs, shoulders slumping once the dry amusement has passed. Really…What's with his luck today?
"…So, I found another black cat. What should I do?"
Dealing with humans is not his forte. It might be his interest to study what's inside of them, but not so much other than that. He fishes his phone out again, not batting an eye at the message from before and quickly typed in several numbers, the same way he has always done.
"…mn…Yasusada, you dumbass…."
His eyes widen. The other side of the phone is picked up and the nurse is asking polite questions, but the words just seem to fly over his head. He ends the call without saying a word, dropping it back into his pocket with a troubled sigh.
"It can't be helped." Yasusada smiles lightly at the figure before him, leaning down to push brown locks behind an ear. "I guess I have no choice but to help you."
-x-
The light is flicked on.
"Welcome home, I guess." Yasusada laughs ironically to himself.
Smile fading, he pulls his baggage up to their couch, a grey thing made to camouflage whatever black or white fur the cats they pick up might shed. With less gentleness than he prefers, he drops the guy onto the fabric, wincing at how tender his care is.
"I'm sorry you had to get the short end of the stick." He whispers to his present charge, shrugging. "I wouldn't want to be treated by myself either, but the vet's a block away while the hospital's a fifteen minutes ride by car. So…you understand, don't you?"
He doesn't entertain himself waiting for a response. His roommate might have said more, or whispered tender words under his breath while caressing his animals, but Yasusada doesn't. Instead, he rises to his feet to gather their first-aid kit, a bunch of fluffy towels, and several basins of clean water (not the tap ones of course). He may not be trained for this specific purpose, but he does have a general idea of what one's supposed to do in this scenario. It's only when most of the necessary items are strewn about the table that Yasusada takes another look at his companion.
"Again with that position." He chuckles in exasperation.
The other is curled like a cat again.
Looking around, he decides to just settle into the tiny space on the couch that's left by the other. He is gonna be staying here for quite some time anyways and he would rather to be comfortable while he does this.
Pressing white towels to still gashing wounds, he waited for the flow to stop, entertaining himself with his lecture recordings on his iPad as he did. The lecturer's monotonous stream of information fills the room. The ceiling fan turns routinely above them. Kamekichi stares at him dryly from his tank.
When the stream has stopped, Yasusada moves on to the next couple of gashes.
Rinse and repeat.
Then, commence the cleaning of wounds with some warm water, soap, and application of some antibiotic ointment before covering up with sterile bandages.
Sometime in between the stopping of the blood and the dabbing at the gashes, Yasusada found his attention drifting away from the monotonous tune sang by the too dry professor. Sky blue eyes drifted, fluttering between the wounds and the peaceful face of his patient, and at times, flickering to the scary thing he had refused to let go even in his sleep.
Out of curiosity, Yasusada reaches out again and attempts to tug the sword out of his hands.
…Nope. It remains stubborn stuck between manicured fingers, the brows on his patient's face furrowing together as he makes a grunt of irritation.
Curious. Maybe it's a family heirloom or something?
Yasusada isn't too interested in the affairs of the others, but he is fascinated by the interesting twist and turns of hilt and guard, alongside by the colour of the sheathe. If this stranger opens his eyes, would he have eyes the same shade of red his clothes do? Maybe he chose them to match himself? Moreover…why would he choose to use swords in this age? Yasusada hopes he hadn't unknowingly affiliated himself with some yakuza or mafia in some way. He's not suited to that stuff after all.
But ultimately…these are just his wandering thoughts.
"…Finally finished."
Yasusada exhales a soft sigh of relief as he does the last suture on a particularly deep wound, wiping his sweat away from his face.
His patient, bless him for his high pain tolerance, is still deep in sleep, soft snores rumbling through his rising and falling chest.
"To think you were able to sleep through all of that… You're almost as sleazy as sempai." He chuckles.
He rises to his feet…only to let out a startled sound when he swayed and sunk back down into the couch.
"E-Eh?" Yasusada blinks down at trembling knees. It looks like he needs some time for the anxiety to leave his legs. Not to mention, this whole mess of blood-soaked towels and plastics… Urgh. Why did he volunteer himself for this task again?
An arm wraps itself around his waist suddenly, making him jump.
His patient murmurs his name under his breath as he pulls Yasusada into the curve of his body.
Yasusada peers down tentatively, scanning the other's handsome features and gently pushing the arm away. To his bemusement, the stranger murmurs some unintelligible things under his breath and wrings his arm around him again. …Is he, perhaps, used to having others beside him in his sleep?
Yasusada carefully removes the arm from himself again.
"Really…Who are you?" He asks. "Did you…know the me of before?"
"…"
No response came as usual.
"…What am I expecting?" He sighs.
It's self-satisfaction, you can say, that pushed him into helping this guy out. He had hoped for answers, a hint or something that could tell him who he was before his Uncle picked him up at the park one day. But…he really shouldn't have tried to expect anything.
Afterall, Yasusada has stayed with his roommate for two years and watched numerous animals come and go after being healed. Who is to say that a human wouldn't be any different?
-x-
The scent of coffee is what rouses him.
For a moment, as Kashuu laid on a fluffy soft bed with his eyes shut close in sleep, he thought he might be home at the citadel. That perhaps, they might have drunk their hearts out as usual after another welcoming party or a celebration for the master's birthday or some other stupid reason that Jiroutachi makes, and he was once more lying on the tatami outside the kitchen, smelling the tea that either Mikazuki or Uguisumaru is making.
But tatami isn't soft, and his body shouldn't ache after a night of celebrations.
His eyes fly wide open, and he chokes on his breath when he sees his surroundings.
It's a tiny apartment, not at all like the airy surroundings of the citadel. With four caramel walls closing in on him, he's lying on a grey couch that's positioned at the heart of the living room on brown floorboards.
Kashuu coughs, spluttering and grunting when the action hurts him. He looks down, eyes wide at the numerous bandages plastered all over him, feeling a growing urge to screech because – He's a sword! Who would be so stupid as to repair him like that and make him look ugly all over when they could just fix his sword?
"…Oh." A sleepy soft sound is uttered by a voice too familiar. "You're awake."
Kashuu freezes, eyes wide, because the last time he had heard that voice, it was back at Ikeda Inn, where he had seen Yasusada cry – or rather –
(-Out of the corner of his eyes, Kashuu can see it, however much he wanted to ignore it. Okita pushed himself to his feet despite having fell, pulling out the second blade which he had brought along – Yamatonokami Yasusada – specifically because he knew Kashuu, in his state, might not last. Kashuu ducks a swing from the retrograde army, slashes at his foe, and kicks him out of the Inn's window.
"That's the last of them! Let's go, Kiyomitsu!" Yagen orders, jumping away from the scene too.
Kashuu moves – he wants to move, but – something stops him at the last moment, making him look back. Yasusada was still on the ground, still crouched beside his past body (corpse), but he had heard Yagen's call of his name, and sky-blue eyes were looking straight at him, wide, stunned, hopeful-
"Kashuu?"
He couldn't bear it, couldn't bear knowing that this one isn't his Yasusada, couldn't bear giving Yasusada false hope to last Okita's sickness when he isn't his Kashuu either, so he turns his head and he follows Yagen into the shadows-)
Sky blue eyes peer out at him from a pale face. Yasusada tilts his head questioningly, causing locks of navy blue to tumble over his shoulders.
"How do you feel?" A cup of coffee is sat before him on the table.
Kashuu is still more focused on the person than his words.
"Not too bad, I hope. I'm supposed to be a biology student, not a medical professional, so sorry if my bandaging skills aren't enough to meet your standards."
He's…there. Yasusada is there, standing in all his glory.
But…What's he saying about biology…?
"I'm supposed to head over to my part-time job soon, so I can't stay for long…But help yourself to anything. You can leave if you want to too. Or…stay and rest if you want to…?" Yasusada shakes his head at himself, a wry smile on his lips. "I'm really not too good at doing this."
"…Ya…Yasusada?" Kashuu calls out timidly, afraid he might disappear like one of his dreams.
"Yes?" Large eyes blink at him before narrowing. "Oh, that's right. Before you go, I wanted to ask how you know my name."
What…? How he knows his name? That's…obvious…right?
Kashuu blinks rapidly, takes in his surroundings, takes in the aptly placed bandages on his arms, and he takes in Yasusada's unreadable face – an expression he knows is reserved to face situations where there's unfamiliarity, danger, or conflict mixed in.
Why is he looking at him like that…? Ah. That's…obvious…too.
Kashuu tries not to let the pain contort his face, tries not to let the hurt overtake his confusion because confusion means rationality right now and that's what he needs to face this Yasusada and –
"…You're not him." He spits out, feeling like his heart got torn out of his chest.
Yasusada (not) blinks wide eyes at him, looking lost over his sudden words.
"My name is Yamatonokami Yasusada, but-"
"You're not! You're not him! Not my Yasusada!" Kashuu screams, hand slamming down on his lap.
The action pulls at the wounds, drawing strangled huffs from him as he bends over. As he winces at the mortality of this stupid body, an exasperated sigh enters the room and slender arms found its way to his thighs, brushing gently. Kashuu pushes the pale arms away, gritting his teeth at the sky-blues that stare right back at him nonchalantly.
"What are you doing?! Just go away already!"
He hates it, how similar this Yasusada is to the one he's known when he shrugs pensively.
"This is my house, you know? I can do whatever I want. More importantly, if your wounds don't get treated, you'll bleed out."
"…!" That's…not a very good prospect.
Through wary eyes, Kashuu watches as gentle hands pull away the bandages on his thighs, inspecting the now open wound. A tut resounds. A quick shake of the head is offered before the other slides soft steps across the floorboards and made to return with bandages, water, and cloth. Kashuu yelps when his hand is grabbed and used to slap a towel right over his bleeding wound.
"Oww…What are you doing?!"
"Fixing the extra work a certain idiot just gave me." Yasusada deadpans. Who is he calling- Ouch. A pale hand presses his palm back again. An exasperated look with the beginnings of irritation. "Don't remove your hand from the wound. Keep the pressure there until it stops bleeding then I'll help you bandage it. In the mean time, stay where you are."
Kashuu petulantly keeps his mouth shut as Yasusada moves away.
Just…what is all this? Is this another dream again? Should he run before this Yasusada turns into a figment of his imagination?
Caught between the nagging desire to escape and a painful sting under his palm, Kashuu remains seated. He waits.
In the kitchen, steam slowly arises as the scent of food drifts out, drawing a rumbling sound from his belly which he muffles discretely. Outside the house, crickets cry and birds fly past. The turtle in the tank opposite him stares out dryly, an obnoxious challenge that makes Kashuu glare right back no matter how pathetic it is to be waging war with an animal. (Ha! Then again, he can't even beat a couple of humans…)
It's not until Yasusada pads back to him that he realizes he's let his guard down unknowingly.
"Here you go. It's breakfast." A plate loaded full of bacon, eggs, and toasts is sat on the table.
Kashuu swallows his drool, only to hear a tired chuckle.
"It's not poisoned, so just help yourself."
His hand is pulled away from his wound. How troublesome. First, he wants him to put it on then now he wants it removed. Kashuu flinches as the towel is torn away, replaced by a wet cotton ball far too roughly for it to not be intentional. He bears the first few times before snapping.
"Be a bit gentler with me! I'm delicate!"
"Eeh~ But…" The other looks like he wants to say something.
"…What's with that dubious look?" Kashuu twitches.
"Sorry, sorry." Yasusada chuckles softly and his hand became gentler.
Lost in the repetitive motion, Kashuu thinks.
He doesn't get it. All of this. He goes to the convenience store to get some groceries and is attacked by retrograde army in the 21st century. He gets knocked out by a bunch of humans, and he wakes up to find one of the swords which had been lost. In the first place, is this Yasusada human or a spirit? He never really said.
Kashuu stares intently at the navy-blue locks hanging around Yasusada's neck. Those are the same shade as the one from his blurry memories. His eyes, too… And even the subtle strength that's reflected in the tiny flexes of the muscles in his thin arms. He would almost believe it's his Yasusada playing dress-up if he isn't awfully certain that Horikawa would not lie to him.
"…I wasn't lying to you just now."
A sudden statement. The dabs against his wounds are still gentle. His eyes…are not quite as focused.
"My name really is Yamatonokami Yasusada. That's the one thing that can't be wrong."
"I believe you." Kashuu blurts out despite himself. He then furrows his brows. "Can't…?"
"Ah, right. There are some gaps in my memory, you see." It's a sentence too casually thrown out without warning. "Since I was six…or seven? I was picked up, remembering only my name. I didn't even know how to speak back then, almost like a doll." Yasusada snorts.
Pale fingers gingerly press a piece of gauze to the wound before pasting on a bandage.
"Here. I'm done." Yasusada smiles up at him.
"You…" Kashuu chokes, staring incredulously. Forget human or not, that blunt streak can only belong to Yasusada. Faced with questioning eyes, Kashuu slumps, too tired to put it in words. "Uhh…Just forget it.
He snatches a toast and stuffs himself with it.
Yasusada shrugs and rises to his feet.
"Say…Just to confirm…Did you know me before I lost my memories?" Yasusada asks.
Kashuu pauses, toast mid-way to his lips. Sighing, he drops his hand and gazes pensively at the other.
"What if I said I did? What difference would it make?" To a human like him.
Yasusada blinks, humming in thought.
"Well, for one, I'd obviously be curious… But it doesn't seem like you're interested in telling me anything about my past."
"You got that right." Telling humans, no matter what kind, is the same as betraying the master. "No matter how long you cling to me, I'll never tell."
"Hey, don't flatter yourself." A flick to his forehead. Kashuu cringes, hand flying to the spot. What the hell-? Yasusada scowls. "I know I said I'm curious, but I never said I'm not functional without my past. In fact, if anything, it's you who want me to cling onto it, isn't it?"
"I've never said-"
"That's great then!" Yasusada claps his hands together sarcastically. "With this, we can all move on and have our own happy endings, right?"
"You- Do you even know what you're saying? You're- Yasusada!" He throws that out like it's an explanation.
Yasusada blinks at him, not understanding.
Kashuu splutters a bit more before he just slumps and gives up. This Yasusada…in so many ways he reminds him of his one…yet in so many ways, he differs too. He really is just as frustrating as the original.
He lifts his head wanting to say something – a retort, an insult, or some phrases of melancholy – but it's then that Yasusada chooses to jump, looking down at his watch.
"Ah-! I've got to go now. Sorry for cutting our conversation short, but let's continue this if we meet next time." A navy blur flashes around the room, dumping pens and notepads and papers into his bag. "Ah, if you're going after all, remember the lock the door from the inside. See you…er…"
Kashuu blinks at the look of realization on the other's face and laughs.
"I'm Kashuu Kiyomitsu-"
"-The child beneath the river? That's a weird name." Yasusada points out. "See you!"
The door closes behind him.
Left in an empty apartment with a toast between his fingertips, Kashuu looks down slowly, still surprised at having his introduction completed for him, only to see the bandaged gash on his thigh.
This whole situation is so messed up. He's still feels dirty from the fight last night. His wounds ache all over. Yasusada is so confusingly human, but so confusingly familiar at the same time. But nevertheless, despite all his complains -
Kashuu takes another bite of the sugar toast and to choke back the tears of delight stinging his eyes.
"…How ridiculous."
-x-
In the evening, a long-haired youth could be spotted at the streets of the town, a carrier in his grasp.
Will he still be there?
It's a curious question that enters his worn mind on his way home, an unwilling passenger most reluctantly brought along for the ride.
Yasusada doesn't like cats because of how flippant they are in nature. They come and go as they like, dismissive towards all feelings but their own. He dislikes black cats even more because of how unlucky they are – a common cliché, but apparently, this is a case in point, because of all times for the clinic to run out of space…
He flicks on the light, heaving a soft sigh as he steps in and closes the door behind him.
No injured guest in sight. He's left, huh.
One black cat gone and another to replace it.
Fishing out his phone, Yasusada taps on a familiar number and with a long-suffering look, pulls the door to the carrier open.
A tiny black kitten stumbles out timidly, curiously sniffing the carpet.
"Hello? Ah, Yasu?" The cheerful voice sounds tired too. They both had a long day. "Are you letting out the black kitty cat like I told you to?" A cheeky smile is still in his voice nonetheless.
"I hate black kittens." Yasusada deadpans. "You're paying for the damages if there's any furniture ruined."
"Eh?! Just after I've blown my wallet on this exchange trip too…Yasu, you meanie~!"
The kitten turns back hesitantly. Yasusada nudges it forward with his foot, blinking when he spots a note on the kitchen table. He steps forward, surprised his guest had left something for him.
"It's called being realistic. And if you're planning to keep this one…I'll seriously kick you out of my house."
"I won't, I won't~!" The other sang.
"That's what you said with Kamekichi too."
He blinks down at the clumsy letters scrawled onto the post-it, a slow smile crawling to his lips.
"Ehehehe~ Did I? I can't really remember! …Hey, Yasu. You still there?"
"I'm here. So, what should I do with this kitten now? Should I toss it into a bin?"
[Thanks for the food.
I'll come back soon to collect these.
~ KK ~]
A pair of golden earrings was left beside the note.
"UWAH~~~! Yasu, that's animal abuse!"
This is why black cats are so troublesome… They come and go as they like, never really giving a break for you to stop thinking about them. Yasusada scowls at the one rubbing against his feet, licking his ankle affectionately with its sandpaper tongue.
"Maybe boiling it might be better."
"YASU!"
-x-
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("I'm sorry, Yamatonokami." His master has said numerous times, pawing away at the blankness on his face as he gently wakes him up. "I'm so sorry…"
Each time this happens, it would take him a moment before he understands. Every time he does, Yamatonokami would drag himself up into a seated position, gingerly cradling the tiny child of six even as his master collapses against him, straining to reach for his face. Yamatonokami smiles, even if the gesture is as hollow as the body of his old master.
"It's fine," He says because it's his duty to. He ruffles the dark locks. "In the end, I am just a sword. So… I feel neither sadness nor pain."
For some reason, it always makes his young master cry just a little harder.
Yamatonokami only tilts his head regretfully each time.
The year is 2205. In order to combat the history retrogrades, a saniwa has been chosen from the previous time period to summon sword warriors like themselves. Such is supposed to be the line of events. But…Nobody would have expected the one chosen to be a tiny boy of six, his spiritual powers hardly mature enough to sustain the manifestation of three warriors, much less six.
"Sorry about this, Yamatonokami." Mutsunokami apologizes sometimes too when he spots Yamatonokami tucking the boy in. "This must bring back bad memories for you."
"It's of no concern." He replies dismissively every time.
It's not the fault of the young master that his unstable spiritual power has him stumbling through their dreams at times. It's not the fault of the master too, that he was chosen far too young, with a body hardly able to lift any of their real bodies, safe for the tantou.
"I-I'm sorry I'm weak…" The master sniffles while sitting in his lap sometimes. "I'm sorry I can't summon him for you right now. That other one in your dreams."
"It's fine, master." The lie slides off his tongue easily. Perhaps if he says it enough, it might just be? "Since you saw the end of the dream, you know as well, don't you? You still managed to summon him in the end – that's why he appeared there at the Ikeda Inn to battle those creatures."
Yamatonokami smiles warmly as he rests his chin on dark locks.
"I'm proud of you, master."
And he really is.
Even though he is just a sword.)
.
(Yamatonokami Yasusada is the first sword summoned by the Master without the aid of the fox.
He is also the last sword to be summoned for the next decade, with repercussions wrecking the young Master's body until his spiritual powers has fully matured and stabilized.
Perhaps, it might be for the best, he sometimes hears the other two murmuring in the hallways. Time is what's most necessary to heal wounds, and time is exactly what they'll have till the young master reaches sixteen.
Yamatonokami refuses to believe it.
Refuses to let himself love this new master.
Until he is forced to.
"…I'm sorry I'm not Okita Souji." At the young age of ten, the sick young master held both his hands in his own bloody palms and gazed down blankly at his callouses. (So much like Okita-kun at his deathbed…so often grasping his sheathe and struggling to rise to his feet-) "I know, Yamatonokami. You don't have to hide it. Things would be so much better if Okita-kun is the chosen saniwa instead, wouldn't it? Everything would have been so much better if I'm not the one. So…I don't mind if you just end it here-"
"Don't."
Is all Yamatonokami can offer (not knowing the tormented face he was also making).
The child looks up, and his face of bravery shatters at the sight.
"I'll love you, Master." Yamatonokami's breath hitches. He chokes, stunned at the unpleasant sting of his eyes which he's never felt before. "I'll love you and forget about him – about them. So…Please don't leave me."
(Like them.)
Yamatonokami is not human. He recognizes himself to be a sword. That's the one thing he's been repeating to himself for most of his lifetime. He is a sword. That's why…he shouldn't grieve when Kashuu breaks; shouldn't cry when Okita cuts himself on his blade out of frustration; shouldn't have to give himself to this new master or open up to the other swords here, because his blade is already there and there's nothing else to be given-
-except love, apparently.
He didn't know his reluctance has driven his new master into this corner, made him long for death the same way Okita-kun did.
(He doesn't want to see another master die anymore.)
The child struggles futilely for a moment, before he's flinging himself into his clothes, pulling and sobbing as he clung to Yamatonokami like a lifeline. And Yamatonokami only cradles him, like he always does when he comes crawling into his bed, tiny hands attempting to put him back together.
Time heals all wounds.
His is not so much healed as it is forced apart by the innocent words of a little boy and poured salt into, but that's fine with Yamatonokami too, because it's this particular young boy – his new master – that's doing it.
Still, Yamatonokami doesn't forget Okita Souji or Kashuu Kiyomitsu like he offered. Instead, he dreams of reuniting with Kashuu under the forgiving eyes of his master and slowly, learns to smile genuinely under the innocent care of his master.)
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(This citadel is small, just like its master.
Due to circumstances, rather than choice, they're forced closer together than any other citadel might be, playing the roles of mock parents and siblings and family and servants to the young boy who had been stolen from his family far too soon. Yamatonokami may be awkward after years of self-imposed isolation, but he too is easily accepted with the help of his master.
"Mi-chan, Mi-chan! Here is a white camellia for you!" The tantou blinks wide eyes at the flower shoved in his face. "It's supposed to mean 'You're adorable', right?!"
"…Pfft…Thank you for the flower, young master." A gentle ruffle of raven locks grants them both a wide sunny beam. A teasing smile is then directed to him, badly hidden behind fake innocence. "Or rather…Yamato, you know the flower language?"
"It's just something I picked up from my former master's sister." He shrugs.
"Heh~ Is that so?" A knowing smile rests on his lips. The tantou lets it go. "Well, tonight's dinner appears to be dumplings. Young Master, would you like to help lend me an extra pair of hands for this? Ah, and Yamato, you're included whether you like it or not.")
(Nights where he's woken from his dreams by tiny hands have lessened after he makes peace with his new home. To make up for the deprivation in sleep, he develops a new habit of checking on the young master to make sure his rest is not disturbed.
Pale fingers carding through dark locks the same way he's seen the tantou do, Yamatonokami often sits by his master till dawn on those nights, fearing that his dreams might return to haunt the master if he sleeps. It's in those times that Mutsunokami would often appear, a grin on his face as he plops down beside him.
"How is it? The young master is awfully cute, ain't he?" A tan finger reaches out and prods a cheek.
"…Should I break that finger of yours?" Yamatonokami grabs the appendage, smiling politely at the other.
A yelp is quickly muffled behind his free hand. It takes three seconds for Mutsunokami to successfully convince him of his intention with wild hand gestures, and another five more before Yamatonokami deems himself sufficiently entertained to release the other sword spirit. Mutsunokami inhales in relief when he did.
"…You. You've gotten awfully protective over the young master, haven't you?" Mutsunokami grins, looking all too smug when he nudges Yamatonokami. "It's sweet, how you've moved beyond your beloved Okita Souji when you're literally all over him before."
"I will never forget Okita-kun." Yamatonokami states, silently adding 'and Kashuu'. "Young master understands and accepts that too."
"Nevertheless, I'm glad your heart is with us now." Mutsunokami's smile is strained, not by his words, but by time. "It's…hard, you know? Having to be humans when we're not. Juggling the parts of the saniwa, swords, and family simultaneously. Though I really shouldn't be telling you this, what with you being one of the Shinsengumi swords and all-"
His voice trails off in laughter, but the meaning of his words differs.
It's only then that Yamatonokami looks and sees the underlying tension that's been threatening to break them in a different manner than the usual. A burden, which he should have shared right from the start in retrospect.
"…I didn't ask, but I don't mind hearing you out." He shrugs, straightening casually. "No promises on helping though." He smiles, and Mutsunokami laughs breathlessly.
"You've really changed, hadn't you-?")
.
(A new sword shows up on their doorstep, all of its own accord.
Mutsunokami releases a cry of alarm when the master dashes from his side to the sword. Midare, the fastest, tries to chase him down without pushing him to the ground. These two are scared, remembering the first and last time the young master had awoken a sword, but Yamatonokami simply observes detachedly the desperation on the master's face. It's then that he realizes the young master is still hung up on his childish promises to him back then.
A surge of power is all the warning they have, before cherry blossoms erupts from the sword and they're left staring at the young master and a surprised-looking figure.
With a headful of strawberry blonde locks and bright delighted turquoise eyes, the new sword warrior introduces himself cheerily.
"I am Urashima Kotetsu. Hey! Wanna go to the Ryugu Palace with me? I don't know which way it is, though!"
It's quite the energetic introduction, all things given.
In the aftermath of things, the fox would explain, in awe, that the young master's unstable but rapidly growing supply of spiritual energy is getting strong enough to attract swords even from afar (-and he would plead with the three of them, who knew, to finally please let the saniwa get to work already and go on sorties-) but in that instance, it's evident to all of them how the young master's face fell briefly in disappointment.
"…Oh. …It's nice to meet you." The master forces a smile and leaves.
Yamatonokami trails after the master while Mutsunokami welcomes the newcomer, and he kneels before the huffing young lord who tries to pretend to be nonchalant, pinching his cheek when he attempts to hide away in a tree.
"I will be fine, young master." Yamatonokami repeats, tucking his blue cloak around the child to offer a place to hide his tears. "I still miss Kashuu Kiyomitsu, and I still love Okita Souji. However, even if they don't come today or tomorrow, you are there for me. That's enough."
Teary dark eyes peered at him, before he's pulling Yamatonokami forward for a hug again.
"Geez. You're growing too big for this, young master.")
.
(Even so, as two more swords arrive, and the seasons pass, Yamatonokami glares into the distance at night as he smooths down dark locks.
'How long are you going to make me wait, Kiyomitsu-')
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("Another area has been lost." The fox's words make them lower their eyes. "How long are you going to continue this? Hiding the truth will not protect the saniwa you love so much. For all you know, he might cease to exist tomorrow because of your stupidity-"
"He's fourteen, Konnosuke."
Mutsunokami is the only one amongst them who dares to speak up.
"He collapsed the other day after healing us when we came back from an expedition. Not to mention, his body is still ill even now. It's only another two years so-"
"It's been eight years." The fox states factually. "All of you know what difference eight years can make. And you, as the attendant sword, should know the best of them all. I'm utterly disappointed in you-")
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("I love you, Yamatonokami."
The words take him aback, especially when he's seated on the lap of his young master – Not so young anymore, perhaps? - with arms folded around him. He tries to turn around to look, tries to convey his sincerity and regret through his expression, but a laugh startles him and the chin placed on top of his head stops whatever struggles he had.
"You're the best caretaker I've ever had. Cuddly, too."
Yamatonokami falters.
Had he…perhaps…misunderstood him?
He contemplates before smiling.
"Thank you. Those are very kind words. But if the others hear that, they'll surely be disappointed."
"They won't die, so it'll be okay. Aaaah~ It's so unfair." The master flops back. "Okita Souji and Kashuu Kiyomitsu are so lucky, to have your love. I wish I'm included in the group."
Yamatonokami chuckles and prods the other in the side, earning a yelp.
"Remind me. Did we ever raise you to be that needy-?")
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("-We'll go." Urashima smiles. The rest of them step up in agreement, Yamatonokami not excluded from this. "We've been postponing this for too long, and we're the ones who condemned the citadel to this fate anyways…So…we'll do as you say."
Konnosuke is stunned that they're listening for once.
Yamatonokami hardly cares for the fox, though the gentle laughter of the newly smithed tantous outside captures his attention. Somehow, in one way or another, the young master had once again escaped Horikawa's lovingly suffocating care and found his way to the fields. Perhaps he tripped. Perhaps, he was trying to help and got bored of the task. Who knows? Whichever the case, the master was now dragging the tantous into for a mud bath with him, determined to draw some resemblances of innocence onto their too serious faces.
"…Someone should stay." Yamatonokami speaks up before he registers it. "It'll be bad if the entire team is eradicated and the citadel is left oblivious to this. Someone will need to inform them if the worst-case scenario happens."
His eyes are directed straight at Mutsunokami, and one by one, the others chirp in their agreements.
"W-Wait! You want me to tell the young master if all of you die?! Not to mention, the guy we're sending out as my replacement-..."
"…You are the sword of Sakamoto Ryouma." Yamatonokami states evenly, using the one fact that can't be disputed. "You know best what to do when cornered. We'll leave the young master in your hands."
"But you-" Mutsunokami bites his tongue before lowering his head. "…Fine. Fine, I get it. But you guys have better not die on me, alright?")
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(It's Kiyomitsu, he breathes when he found the red and gold treaded sword. Of all times possible to have found a sword… And in all possible situations too… This is a miracle.
"Y-Yamatonokami-san…?" A hiccup. The hands clinging to his side are trembling a lot, a stark contrast to the steady small palms that once held his hands and begged to be killed. Yamatonokami grabs the tantou the moment he hears a shuffle, leaping behind the bush and hurriedly bundling Kashuu Kiyomitsu with the eight or nine other swords they've gathered due to the master's accumulated powers.
The enemies in the retrograde army do not communicate in words when they pass by. Instead, as if having some sort of telepathy, they nod and shake their heads at each other, slipping past the bush as if they've never passed.
Yamatonokami breathes a sigh of relief as he tugs off his cloak and wraps the swords with them.
Dewy gold eyes watched fearfully, a glimmer of understanding descending through the pain that threatens to break Gokotai the same way it almost did with Mutsunokami. He grits through the pain of the gashing wounds on his arms, even as he attaches his cloak to the shivering child by the sleeves.
"Y-Yamato…p-please…don't…"
Gokotai is begging at this point, having experienced this too many times.
Yamatonokami smiles, reaching out to press his hand against the other's cheek, like how he would with his young master.
"We can't let them catch all of us." He repeats Urashima's words to the child. It hadn't been long before Urashima had his arm ripped apart and was dragged away by them. "Their aim isn't to break us, but to eradicate the team and lure out the rest of our comrades." That's a lie, but it's better for Gokotai to think that, rather than to know that they're chasing with the aim of hunting out the citadel's location so as to crush them once and for all. It's better, to be oblivious to the fact that the others who hadn't broken are most likely being tortured as they speak. "So, make sure you get back safely for the rest of us, Gokotai."
The citadel is a family. Gokotai is a brother, like how Mutsunokami is. Like how the young master is, and how Urashima and all of them are.
His eyes flicker down to Kashuu momentarily, conveying a silent apology with his eyes even if his tsukumogami hasn't been brought to life.
Aaah…He had wanted to share his new home with Kashuu too.
He pinches Gokotai's nose, ruffling platinum blond locks.
"Don't blame yourself for this Gokotai. We don't blame you at all." He smiles. "Stay safe."
No cries of his name come after him as he dashes out of the bush. Gokotai is a tantou specializing in stealth despite his very young body. Yamatonokami doesn't believe in god, but he silently murmurs some prayers for the last of them to get home safely as he swings his sword at the enemies – like how he's born to do, what he's supposed to do. A flick switched on, he throws himself into battle, lost in the bloodshed and breaking blades until a hand pins his throat down, crushing his hand before he could fling his sword down and break it. Empty sockets boring into him, Yamatonokami exhales even then and swiftly, abruptly brings his teeth down on his tongue-)
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