He bolted upright in a cold sweat and he could feel his hands shaking as he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. In the bright of day it was easy to dispel the shadows of the night and separate dreams from reality, but when it was dark like this, the enormity of his position weighed heavily on his shoulders.
They'd been lucky so far. Maybe they didn't think he realized that but he'd seen the violence and bloodshed, not as much as they had and not up close and personal, but that was what he wanted to change. He didn't want them - his people, yes, but the citizens of the other nations as well – to live with the threat of war hanging over their heads. He wanted peace and prosperity and two chickens in every pot. He knew it was asking for a lot but wasn't that a goal worth working so hard for?
He'd been destined for this long before he was born but he'd been the one to accept the position. He'd wanted to make a difference, and that wasn't so terribly different from anyone else, no matter which world he was on. In this position he had the power to change things and the loyalty of those more experienced in such matters, all of whom he considered his friends.
All of whom he'd endangered with his recklessness.
He didn't, and he couldn't, regret his decisions. They'd succeeded where failure had seemed imminent and given hope to those who'd long given up. That made it all worth it, and he knew he wasn't alone in feeling that way.
No, Yuuri Shibuya wasn't alone at all and he appreciated that every day. He would be forever grateful for the support he'd been given, whether reluctantly or willingly. There was nothing that couldn't be accomplished when they worked together as a team.
But in the still of the night, the visions came, of battles fought and won. Behind closed eyelids the scenes were red with blood and the screams of the survivors rang in his ears so loudly that he could no longer sleep.
It was in the darkness, when the lines between asleep and awake, real and imagined, what-was and what-could-have-been, blurred so much he had to count to ten to calm his breathing and reassure himself that things were just as they'd been before going to bed the night before.
A rough sound penetrated the eerie silence of the room and Yuuri lifted his head, his vision spotted with colored lights as he opened his eyes. When the sound came again, he recognized it and the lines that had been so blurred just a heartbeat ago came into sharp focus.
He stretched out his legs slowly and reached overhead to ease the tension in his shoulders. His eyes closed drowsily as he settled back onto the pillow, and when he bent his legs to curl up on his side, his foot brushed up against a warm thigh.
It wasn't even close to a lullaby, but on tonight of all nights, Yuuri couldn't imagine a sweeter sound.