Author's Note: So, this chapter will NOT be the last. I decided to split these last two chapters. The next will be the final chapter.
On an unrelated note, my heart goes out to the citizens of France. I sincerely hope the best for all of you, just as I hope my country and its government will do all it can to help you. Likewise, I send all the good will to those who might be living in fear of retaliation for the violent acts of only a few.
Might need some tissues for this chapter, guys.
Emergency vehicles rolled around the broken landscape, and every time they paused, it was to help the injured and dying into their waiting care. April, Saki and Yoshi were checked over by medics, but ultimately given clearance to leave, as other injuries were far more pertinent.
The trio was silent as they drove back to their village in Saki's truck. The air was thick enough to absolve any hopes of conversation, fears far too pressing to voice.
They made it to the main center of town first, from one of the roads to the west, and April leaned forward, straining to see.
Saki cursed under his breath as the truck rolled to a stop where there had once been a sign, but now was nothing. The entire market square had been destroyed, with only one or two buildings still standing, but their village had, at the very least, been spared much of the landslide. As they rolled on, Saki wordlessly steering the truck towards Shen's house, Yoshi grew more and more tense at April's side.
Some houses stood, but others had crumbled, and the emergency assistance was coming into town as they rode by, pulling people from rubble in some places, bodies from others. The laundry shop April had worked in was now unrecognizable, and as she watched, Iida-san was looked over by a medic. She was alive, but the distraction of being as such did not keep her from sobbing as she looked over her business.
They came to the street where Shen and April lived, and Yoshi made the first noise in nearly half an hour.
The entire semi-circle of houses was destroyed, not a single one standing. Shen had been at home when April had left that morning, and now as they came to a stop, weakness filled April's limbs, tears already prickling at the corners of her eyes. No one was faster than Yoshi as he flew out of the truck, his stricken expression pouring over every layer of refuse.
"SHEN!" he called, heavy pants breaking up every shout. "SHEN!"
April jumped out behind him, and she cried out at the sight of what had once been their house. The entire yard was broken up, like pieces of a puzzle dropped from their box all at once. The garden shed Yoshi had painstakingly built for Shen was toppled over on its side and half-buried in dirt, the garden they'd made beside it completely gone.
As the trio approached what had once been the home, Yoshi called out again and again, growing more frantic as he searched. Tears blinding her, April stooped in the debris of the home and her fingers found a piece of glossy paper. When she lifted it from the rubble, she saw it was the now dirty and stained photograph from Christmas, the one which featured the four of them, happy and bundled, in front of the scenic fountain in Osaka.
"Shen!" April called out, barely able to speak as she clenched the photo tight in her hands. "SHEN!"
Saki came up behind her and tried to pull her away from the house, which was sharp under her battered feet, but April pulled away and called out again.
Yoshi cursed loudly, his hands reaching up and gripping his head as he sank into a miserable crouch. When at last he stood again, his face was streaked with tears, and the three of them stood silently for a long, dismal moment.
Thud. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
They turned, confused for a moment before April's eyes caught a hint of a movement. "Yoshi!" she exclaimed, pointing. "The shed! The garden shed!"
Yoshi's head snapped in that direction, and now it was clear that the sounds were coming from inside the shed. Together, he and Saki hurried to the small overturned shed and began pulling away frantically at the debris covering it. When at last it was free, they rolled it over with a great heave until the door was no longer against the ground, and as soon as they did, it burst open.
"Yoshi!" cried Shen, as she fought to get out of the shed, bruises and cuts scattered over her face but a brilliant smile there nonetheless. Yoshi snatched her out of the shed and pulled her away from it, only to curl her tightly in his arms with a strangled gasp.
"Oh, Shen..." he murmured tearfully, his face tucked deeply into her neck. "I thought you were gone..."
"I'm okay!" she comforted, stroking his head. "I'm okay – I felt the shocks, and the shed was closest! It turned over, and I could not get out. But it did not break! I am alright!"
Yoshi refused to let her go for several minutes, but April waited her turn to hug Shen, who clinged to her just as desperately as she had Yoshi. "I am so glad you are alright," she told April in a fearful whisper. "I was so scared for you..."
"We're all okay," April whispered back, her shining eyes turning up to the two brothers, who stood far apart without looking at one another. "We're all going to be alright."
They spent the rest of the day helping out whereever they could, all four of them in tandem as they had always been, though they spoke little, and Saki least of all. April could never be glad of the tragedy, but the distraction of such hard work was not unwelcome.
Still, the night came and the village settled, albeit uncomfortably, and with many in mourning. All of the Hamatos had survived the earthquake, their home being rather far off from the village and largely undamaged. The clansmen lost in the attack against the FootClan were quietly memorialized on the Hamato land, while other vigils were kept for the Japanese who had died in the disaster.
Because their home had been destroyed, April and Shen were invited to stay at the Hamato's home, and so they gathered what few things they could salvage and returned to the room in which they'd stayed before, huddled together in bed that night, sharing tears and thoughts, fears and hopes.
"Many years ago, people all over the world thought things such as this earthquake happened because the spirits were angry with us," whispered Shen to April in the dark. "We had failed them, they thought, and so they sought to punish us for it. Now, we know that these disasters have purposes in science and nature. We can study them and see why they act the way they do, and because of that, we can forgive them for bringing such destruction on us."
Shen frowned deeply and brushed a hand over one of April's many cuts from the day's battle.
"But no matter how much we study humans, their thirst for violence is never explained to us. We may never know why they create such ill will and hatred. And why they seek to destroy so much and hold dear so little."
"We'll probably never know," agreed April softly.
Shen pressed her face further into her pillow and closed her eyes, weary from the day. "Perhaps that is for the best," she sighed. "Some things are better left in the dark."
They slept.
Early the next morning, April rose and walked quietly down the hallway of the Hamato home, her bare feet cold against the wooden floors. She found Saki in the dojo, and as she watched, he stood without moving in front of the wall of weapons and scrolls, his eyes on a high shelf of various items dear to the family. Artifacts from elders past, a sword that belonged to an ancient and noble ancestor, an ornate chest the size of a shoebox, and others. All of them important to the Hamato family in some way or the other.
April stepped inside, her arms folded over her chest in a comforting squeeze, though she ached to reach out to him. Even turned to the side, the pain etched into his face was clear, and her powers felt the desperate urging of his misery.
She didn't want any more tears, so she pushed them aside, but she felt them all the same.
"Saki..." she said tenderly, and as soon as she reached him and touched his bicep, he dropped his head and closed his eyes.
"I am the son of Oroku Keiji," he murmured in disbelief, his features crumpled. "Yoshi and my – Hamato Yuuta, they kept this from me. They trained me to hate my own blood." He looked up at her then, his brows furrowed. "Why? Why would they do that?"
April moved closer and shifted in front of him, her fingers curling at his arm. "Saki, I – I don't know why Hamato Yuuta did what he did. But I don't think he meant to do you harm. He cares for you -"
"No," Saki interrupted, his voice thick. "He killed my father in his own home, and he took me to keep as a trophy, just as he does with everything else."
"Hamato Yuuta loves you," she tried, but Saki refused to look at her.
He said lowly, "Lying is a poor way to love someone."
He turned away then, his movements slow and heavy, until all at once, he gripped the heavy shelf and ripped it off the wall, scattering its contents over the dojo floor with a loud clatter. "I hate him!" he shouted in grief. "I hate Hamato Yuuta and I hate Yoshi!"
April jumped away from the falling objects, her lips parted, as she looked up to Saki's angry pacing. "I will never forgive them for this! I will hate them all my life, I swear it!"
"Saki!" She gripped his arm and stopped his pacing, as if her meager strength had the great will to keep him from doing anything. He did, though, let her pause him with a hand to his chest, and when he relented for just a moment, she pulled her hand to the back of his neck to still him completely.
"Listen," she pleaded, her voice soft and tender. "I know that you want to lash out at them, and you deserve to feel angry and betrayed. But I will never be able to forgive myself if I let you give into these feelings right now, Saki. Never. Please, listen to me when I beg you not to attack Yoshi or Hamato Yuuta. Don't let this anger and bitterness towards them dictate your actions. Don't hold this against them forever."
Saki snorted and tried to pull away, but April kept him there.
"And I'm not saying this for Yoshi," she said firmly, her grip tightening. "I'm saying this for you. Because I can't lose you to this hate, Saki. I need you too much." His gaze flickered at her words, and she pressed on.
"Please, I know all of this is incredibly unfair to you," she whispered, her thumb brushing over his cheek. "But I also know you can overcome it. You're always telling me how strong I am, right?" She tried for a small smile, and the reflection of it passed behind his softening eyes. "Let me be strong for you. Let me help you get past this, so that you can move on without losing the people around you who care about you."
Saki swallowed tightly, and the struggle read in every clenched muscle in his body. She could feel his rage, boiling barely beneath the surface, so ready to unleash on someone. But April was the only one there, and he kept it at bay, somehow.
He shook his head a bit, his eyes closed once more. "It is no wonder I am this man," he said at long last. "One who is constantly at war with himself. It is because I was not meant to live this life." April's fingers found his shirt and tugged him close, so their lips could brush together.
She spoke almost too softly to hear. "The man you are is the man I love."
Saki's eyes opened at that, wide and vulnerable, and April looked up to him with unwavering resolve. It was true, not something said for his benefit, and it was the only thing that gave her hope that Saki could rise out of his bitterness for the Hamato's. It had to work. It had to.
A moment passed in stillness before Saki curled April tight in his arms, and though he dwarfed her in every way, it felt very much like April was embracing a small child, for how much he trembled and curled into her warmth.
"I will try," he promised her with no small amount of reluctance, his hand brushing tenderly over her face as they parted. "I will try to keep from hating Yoshi. And perhaps, one day, I can have peace with him again. But only for you. Only because of you, for I cannot do it alone."
April offered him a watery smile. "Everything that gives you happiness will give me happiness, too. I'll be here with you," she squeezed his hand. "I promise."
Saki nodded, some hint of warmth coming back into his features. He glanced to the mess he'd made, but April waved him away. "Go get a few hours of sleep. I'll clean this up," she said, and Saki left her with one last kiss, leaving April alone in the dojo.
She stooped down, her mind turning over the recent events as she picked up the broken pieces and replaced the uninjured items on a different shelf. As she kneeled to pick up the chest, however, she paused. Its keyhole on the front caught her attention, and as she drew her fingers over it, she remembered her own key around her neck.
"It couldn't be..." she murmured to herself, and she pulled out the key. When it slipped into the lock without trouble, her heart hammered in her ribs. She turned it with a click, and the small box opened. Inside, sitting on top, was a large scroll bearing the Hamato crest.
She reached out with unsteady hands and unfurled the many pages of hand-written text.
May 21, 1977
I write this now after my dear wife has passed, and because there are many troubling circumstances on my mind at the prospect of raising young sons on my own, I find others must be laid to rest, in order to secure room for newer concerns.
There is no other with whom I could share these memories, no person alive who can be trusted. And so I must write them here, on this day, to be sealed away in the chest which must be locked. Then I will take my key, as it is the only key left for such a lock, and I will melt it down so these words may never be read.
It is my hope that once I have done this, I may leave these memories behind. I do not know if that is possible, but on this day, I am finally willing to try.
The forest was a spectacle of green foliage and bright sunshine, and as the little boy sped through the low hanging branches and piles of forest debris, he laughed at the sun's attempt to catch him. He was alone, but he ran as if the wildest of beasts was right behind him. With no instructors to watch him or any mothers to scold him, he could only run as fast and jump as high as he desired.
When at last he stopped for breath, the little boy leaned against a tree. He'd only had a moment's rest, though, when a voice sounded behind him.
"What are you doing here?" demanded a squeaky voice, and when the boy whipped around, he found himself to face to face with yet another little boy, smaller and lankier than he was.
"I am playing," the first boy defended, folding his arms to look tough. The other little boy did not seem to fear him, and that annoyed him. "Do you own these trees? No, I did not think so. I can play where I want."
"You do not know who owns these trees," said the other little boy peevishly. "I bet you do not know anything."
"I do so. I know all my characters and numbers," the other boasted, and he received an eyeroll in response. They both paused, unsure of what to say or do, because the truth was they were both little boys, and they each knew as much or as little as could be expected.
The first little boy squinted. "Is that a slingshot?"
The other looked down at his toy, which he held in his hand. "Oh, yes. My cousin gave it to me. I can knock down anything with it." He smiled, and previous aggression forgotten, he held it up for the other to see. "Do you want to play down by the river? We can build up targets and then take turns knocking them down."
The first boy laughed. "That sounds fun! My name is Yuuta."
They turned together and headed towards the river, and the boy with the slingshot hopped alongside him joyfully.
"It is nice to meet you, Yuuta. My name is Keiji."
We did not know then how powerful the absence of our family names truly was. In fact, we did not even learn of one another's clans for quite some time. It was easy enough, in the beginning, to merely play with one another in the woods when we could, though we were somehow wise enough not to mention it to our fathers.
Home was a strict place, filled with discipline and training that, even as such young ages, grew oppressive in nature and too commanding to bring comfort or joy. It was a suffering we each understood, but never spoke of. Our time in the woods was nothing more than building forts, climbing trees and swimming in the river, all of which occupied our time in the newest and most fascinating of ways. We treasured it above everything else, so much so that even when we discovered the nature of our family's rivalries, we quickly decided that such things had nothing to do with us.
And even if it did, the forest was a neutral place, where kinsmen and ninjutsu did not particularly matter. If we could spend just an hour away from the firm regiment of our homelife, in each other's company and laughing, everything we endured in the village was inconsequential.
One day, Keiji came up with an idea.
"This is a box my uncle gave me," he told Yuuta, his knees dipped in the gathering leaves. The ornate chest was the size of a shoebox, with dark wood and a large black metal lock. "I thought we could leave it here at our spot in the forest, so if we wanted to give each other notes or leave surprises, we could put them here."
He pulled out a long iron key. "This is my key." Then, reaching in his pocket, he pulled out another, and he grinned at Yuuta's wondrous gaze. "This is the copy I had made. These are the only two keys in the entire world that will fit this box, and only you and I will have them. It will be our secret, forever. Okay?"
Yuuta nodded, delighted at the secret, and they each took their keys and kept them always on their person. "Forever," he agreed.
Keiji and I lived lives so parallel to one another, it was only to be expected that we understood the other so well. And so we continued, using every skill of discretion we learned from our fathers, meeting in the forest even as we left childhood behind and became teenagers.
Keiji tapped his foot impatiently, and when at last his friend came stumbling through the branches to their usual spot, he exhaled in a very pointed and annoyed manner.
"Yuuta!" he exclaimed, as his friend appeared. "There you are! What took you so long?"
But as Yuuta came into view, his gait was uneven and unseemly, even for a lanky thirteen year old fighting to grow accustomed to his rapidly growing body. "What has happened to you?" asked Keiji, his brows furrowed in concern. Yuuta winced, but he pulled away from Keiji's step.
"It is nothing," he said, even as he heavily favored one leg.
Keiji made a face. "It is not nothing, you stupid. Did you get hurt in training?" When Yuuta fell quiet, Keiji's face grew dark. "Or was it your father?"
Yuuta sighed, and after a few more fumbling steps, he sat on a log and gingerly touched his right leg, where binding under his hakama hid his injury. "It is not so bad as last time," he said, trying to sound light. "He was very drunk, and so his aim was terrible. I think it might have even been an accident this time."
Keiji did not think his friend's joke was very funny, but there was nothing he could do except sit next to him in angry silence. Yuuta frowned. "I'm sorry, Keiji. I want to come to the river with you, but I can't walk there like this. I barely made it here, but I was afraid you might get worried if I didn't come."
"You are stupid," said Keiji hotly. "You should not have walked all the way out here like that, just for me." Yuuta's lips quirked at a smile, and he shrugged.
"Well, I did. And now I am here to bore you, because I cannot play or run or do anything. I'm sorry."
Keiji paused thoughtfully, before he jumped up. "Well, I will not just let you sit here, with nothing to do, after walking out all this way to see me. So here, stand for just a moment, and I'll carry you on my back to the river. Then we can sit there in the water, and maybe fish some."
Yuuta laughed. "You cannot carry me! Your arms and legs are like twigs, you skinny insect."
"I can!" Keiji argued. "I am strong. And if you were not already injured, I'd show you again who is the better wrestler. Now shut up and stand." Yuuta smirked and did as he was told, and to his surprise, Keiji hoisted him on his back and wrapped his "twig arms" around Yuuta's knees.
"Whoa," Keiji wavered, before they laughed together and began their slow hobble down to the river.
"You really are heavy," said Keiji as they disappeared through the brush.
"It is muscles," Yuuta informed him. "Weak little twig arms do not weight as much as mine."
As we grew older, the reality of our situation became more and more pressing. It became harder to get away, as our responsibilities multiplied and our training escalated, but we still managed. The excitement of keeping our friendship a secret had long passed, and now our time together was a necessity which surpassed nearly everything else.
The only rule we kept was to never speak of our clans. We did not divulge anything about our numbers, our titles, our training. It was a subject which may never enter the forest, and though we never spoke the rule aloud, it was one we both honored ardently.
We came into adulthood, myself a few years older than Keiji, and we were each in turn matched by our parents with wives of our own. We spoke often of the upcoming events in our lives, the things we would do and the others we would change. Keiji was very reluctant to get married, and I was much the same, but there was little to be done about the situation. Fortunately, we had one another to commiserate with, and on the days when we weren't running around the forest like the two little boys we once were, we spent sitting underneath our favorite trees, lamenting our lack of autonomy.
Still, we found joy in our lives with one another, until another milestone in our years gave us new and exciting subjects to discuss. Because Keiji, despite his protests against marriage and his many disparaging comments about his wife, managed to beget a child first. He had a son, one he named Nagi, and I remember spending that entire day together in the forest, looking at his photographs as he proudly relayed every detail on the birth, and on the wondrous baby it had produced.
When I married and had a son as well, we turned our minds together towards the future, making fantastic plans for our children that would never come to be. We knew this, because our children had our names and therefore our predestined rivalry, but we never spoke of that, not once.
Instead, we teased one another about how we would treat them when they were older, how we would discipline them when their rebellious years grew into fruition, how, if we ever had daughters, we would frighten any and all young men who came their way.
It was one of our favorite subjects to share with one another, a light outside of the forest which we could capture and bring to our meetings. When Keiji's second son was born, I waited as anxiously as a new father myself, in a hurry to hear every word of Keiji's excited chatter, my heart so great for his joy.
"Here is his," Keiji grinned, dropping down in front of the tree, shoulder to shoulder with Yuuta as he passed him the picture. They settled next to each other comfortable, their arms brushing as they each placed them on upraised knees.
"Ah," Yuuta smiled. "He is handsome. A bit wrinkly, though. What is his name?"
"Shut up," Keiji chuckled. "He was only born three days ago. You know what those new babies are like." He tucked the picture away and leaned his back further against the tree with a tired sigh, his head lolling near Yuuta's shoulder. "And I do not know, my stupid wife is going to pick it. She does not like the name I prefer."
"And what name is that?"
Keiji smiled at nothing in particular. "Saki."
Yuuta chuckled softly and nodded. "That is a good name. It is a shame she did not like it."
Keiji rolled his eyes and shook his head. "So how is young Yoshi?"
"Ah, he is a toddler," Yuuta rolled his eyes, though he smiled still. "He runs, he bumps into things, he breaks them. Quite possibly the most rambunctious thing I have ever seen, I think. He has great energy. He will fight so well, I know it."
Keiji smiled, pleased to hear this, even as his eyes dropped. Yuuta prodded him gently in the arm. "What are you tired for? You have looked so exhausted lately." His friend made a face, and his head dropped to Yuuta's shoulder, his temple against the sleeve as he stifled a yawn.
"The baby was up crying all night last night. I do not think he is unwell, just irritable."
"Why don't you have a nursemaid to care for him?"
Keiji scowled. "My stupid whore wife fired her," he said with a huff, and at Yuuta's amused stare, he lifted his head enough to smirk and say, "She thinks I am having an affair with her."
Silence followed for a few beats before both men burst out laughing,
"She is so stupid," Keiji muttered, moving his head to Yuuta's shoulder again. "Have I mentioned that? She is a harpy." Yuuta shifted and reached up an arm around Keiji's shoulders, letting him sink further into his side. His hand brushed the other's shoulder, and his dark eyes roved Keiji's sleepy features.
"Do not complain. You are the one who picked her because she is pretty. You should have chosen someone less pretty and more kind, as I did."
"My father only gave me a choice of three, and the others were trolls," Keiji grunted without lifting his head, before he added, "I wanted good looking children. So sue me." They snickered together again, even as Yuuta lifted his hand, fingers brushing the hair on Keiji's forehead. Keiji kept his hair so long, and it was constantly in his face. Yuuta never understood how he could fight, but he did. Yuuta's fingers brushed it away from Keiji's brow.
"Sleep, if you want," he said quietly. Keiji opened his eyes and turned his head up to Yuuta's face, his cheek against the other's front.
"You came all the way out here just to watch me sleep?"
"No," said Yuuta with a smile. "But it is preferable to other alternatives. Rest." Keiji paused before resuming his position, his eyes closed, and he let Yuuta pet his hair away from his face in gentle strokes. "You should be nicer to your wife," Yuuta told him gently after a moment. "It is not her fault."
"What isn't?" asked Keiji sleepily.
Yuuta tucked some hair behind Keiji's ear. "Me," he answered.
Just a few days after the birth of Keiji's second son, our luck finally ran out. It was my fault, and I blame myself for it even now. A foolish, thoughtless moment on my part, to seize the chance to talk to Keiji in the middle of town. The day had been long and stressful, and when I realized he was alone in the market, I pulled him aside in an alleyway.
We spoke only for a moment, and for no real reason at all, when someone spotted us. It was then that Keiji pretended to attack me, and I him, and together we were pulled out to the center of town for all to see. I am still grateful a fight did not transpire there, but the result of such a public confrontation meant that our two clans could no longer linger in their uneasy coexistence.
The time for fighting grew nearer and more intense, and all because they had seen Keiji and I screaming in the streets like savages, blades drawn and fists raged. We knew that day how bad things had gotten, and we also knew that it was now as much our fault as our fathers.
And yet, we thought we could push it away, as we always had. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
"Yuuta!"
Keiji crashed through the forest, speed unhindered by anything in front of him, branches slapping at his face and legs even as he came to their meeting spot with a heavy chest. Yuuta stared at him, lips parted as he hurried forward, touching Keiji's arm in concern.
"Keiji! What is it, are you alright?"
Keiji panted heavily, but at last he gulped down enough air to speak. "Yuuta," he said weakly, his gaze more fearful than Yuuta had ever seen it. "You must leave town. You must go, you must take your family and go, now!"
"What?" Yuuta started. "Why? What has happened?"
The other pulled away, his eyes filled with shame, hesitation causing him to balk before he spoke at last. "It is my father," he said, swallowing tightly. "He came to us last night and told us there is an attack planned on your family."
"An attack?" Yuuta repeated, his eyes wide with alarm. "He would not dare do such a thing."
"He will," Keiji shook his head. "He has told us of other clans – other ninja, he has convinced to ally with us against you. They will number more than two hundred - " Here, Yuuta made a noise of despair, his body turning away from Keiji, even as the other pursued him. " - And they will attack in the dead of night. No one is to be spared, Yuuta. We are commanded to kill everyone."
"That cannot be," Yuuta argued, but at Keiji's expression, he sank his face into his hands. "I must tell my father, alert him so the others can -"
"No!" Keiji interrupted, his expression frantic. "If you alert them, if they prepare in any way at all, my father will know one of us warned you! He will not suspect my old uncle, Yuuta. He will know it is me, and if you think my father is above killing his own son, you are wrong!"
"But what else are we supposed to do?" Yuuta exclaimed.
"Leave!" pleaded Keiji. "Take just your wife and son, and escape before it is too late!"
Yuuta glared down at Keiji. "Abandon my clan, Keiji? Is that what you would do?"
Keiji let out an angry shout. "Yes! I mean – No, I mean. I do not know, Yuuta! All I know is I do not want you to die!" He turned away then, unwilling for Yuuta to see the way he trembled at the idea, but Yuuta softened nonetheless and came to stand behind him.
"What if we win? We could beat your father and his bought warriors."
Keiji inhaled softly, and he shook his head. "No," he said quietly, his voice heavy with despair. "They will outnumber you four to one. Even you cannot defeat such numbers." They looked to one another, and Keiji stepped forward.
"I am begging you. Please, do not die here. Not for your father, who treats you so badly and abuses you at every turn. Go and live for your son, Yuuta. I need to know that you are alive and safe." When Yuuta fell silent, Keiji reached forward with an unsteady hand, wrapping his fingers around the other's. They squeezed there, and the two stepped minutely closer, misery enveloping them.
After a long moment in which only the rustling of trees and the whistle of wind dared make noise, Keiji spoke.
"I know it is no small thing to ask you to abandon your clan, however your father treats you..." he admitted, his face turning up towards Yuuta. "and so I will not ask you to do something I am myself not willing to do." Yuuta looked to him in anticipation. "I will go with you, if you leave. We can take our sons," Keiji smiled, even as his body shook. "We can let them live those dreams we spoke of. Let our fathers fight their wars and die for their honor. We can do something different."
Yuuta dipped his head towards Keiji as the other continued. "We can teach them different things. Away from here."
"And what of our wives, hm?" asked Yuuta wryly. "What do to with them? I cannot take Yoshi away from his mother, nor can I let her die."
"Bring her," Keiji said, not without an air of annoyance. "If you must."
"And of your wife?"
Keiji pulled away a bit, his eyes sharp and narrow. "I will not bring her. Let her die."
"Keiji!" admonished Yuuta.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Yuuta?" said the other bitterly, growing more impassioned with every word. "I do not care about her! I do not love her! I care about you! I lo -" he stopped there, suddenly growing silent, and the two paused together in an air of uncertainty over which boundaries yet remained between them. After a long pause, Yuuta lifted his head to speak.
"I will go," he promised, and Keiji's head jerked up in wide-eyed amazement. With seconds, he'd jumped to Yuuta and pulled him into a tight hug. They held each other like that for quite a long time, each fighting to remain close to the other. Even when they pulled apart, their faces remained close, and an unspoken agreement between them passed through their expressions.
"How will we support ourselves?" Yuuta asked, with just a hint of teasing, his voice low thanks to their intimate proximity. "We do not have many skills that warrant jobs, I am afraid."
Keiji paused thoughtfully, one hand finding Yuuta's top and brushing against the collar there, near his skin, delirium at the prospect of a new life driving him to be bold. "Oh!" his face lit up. "I told you, did I not? My father gave me the Kura Kabuto, just last year, as a special gift. It is surely worth millions of yen. I can take it, and keep it here in our box!" He looked to the side, where the well-worn chest was hidden. "We can sell it as soon as we leave, and it will more than enough to provide for us all until we figure something else out."
Yuuta smiled, unable to resist Keiji's excitement. Both arms curled at Keiji's waist, and now one moved to brush his shoulder. "Alright then. We should meet here in three days, ready to leave." Keiji nodded, and silence fell over them again as the looked over one another closely. Yuuta brought up his free hand and brushed it at Keij's temple, and though they'd never held one another this way before, it certainly felt as though they had.
How could he live without Keiji, he wondered. Surely it must be miserable. Even the thought of it made him sad.
One of them moved, though it was to anyone's guess which, and their foreheads pressed close together before their lips followed suit. It was a smooth, gentle kiss, one that broke apart after only a moment because the reality of such a frightening thing was almost too much to bear, particular with so many other unknowns haunting them.
Still, they both smiled as they parted, because it occurred to each of them in turn that this feeling was the one they ought to have shared with their wives, but instead it was here, between them.
Yuuta whispered, "I will see you in three days."
I remember leaving that time in the forest with an elation I had never known. For the first day in my life, I could think to a future that did not involve taking the place of my father, who held it with so little grace and dignity. To escape the pressures, to evolve on my own. To share all of that with Keiji, and still have my kind wife and sweet child with me, as well as Keiji's own sons. It was a joy I had not anticipated, nor one I was prepared for.
And perhaps, in the end, it was too much for me. More than I was fit to understand, exceedingly more than I deserved.
All the better for loss.
Fire burned through the sky, making the night jump and flicker in waves of orange and red, all of which was reflected in gathering pools on the ground as blood spilled over and over again.
Yuuta rushed through the grounds, sword in hand, tripping over bodies and stopping only when forced by a Foot Clan soldier. They rushed him, waving their weapons, each batted away and stabbed through, dead, all nuisances in the way to his true goal. As Yuuta scrambled to get through the battle, where his own men fought and fell, though less often than the Foot clan, who had been startled out of sleep by the surprise attack, he called out a name.
"KEIJI!" he shouted desperately, uncaring who heard him, stopping only when he had to. "KEIJI!"
He grieved, oh how hard he grieved as he ran, trying to stay live because he had to find Keiji and get him out of here, he had to. Keiji would be in his home, because the attack had occurred, just as the Orokus had planned, in the dead of night. Now, Yuuta prayed with every fiber of his being to find him.
"KEIJI!" he shouted one more time, and then he saw him, several feet away, fighting sword to sword with a Hamato ninja. Yuuta called out just as Keiji killed the other man, and when their gazes met, a flash of fierce rage flashed over his friend's features. Keiji charged him with an angry shout, and his sword met Yuuta's with a loud, aggressive clang.
The fight ended before either struck a single blow, as Keiji fell to one knee, his hand gripping an injury from before.
"Keiji!" Yuuta cried out, dropping to his knees in front of the other. "God, Keiji, I am – I am so sorry, I only wanted – I only wanted to warn my father, and he – I had no time, I came to find you! Please, Keiji! I am so sorry!" Tears poured down his face, and they threatened to choke him when Keiji looked away from him with such vehement disgust, such that they brought an enraged flush to his cheeks even as he discolored from blood loss.
"Keiji," whimpered Yuuta, seeing the wound on his side. "Let me get you to a doctor, please -"
"No!" Keiji shouted, teeth gritted and bared. The battle went on all around them, men dying, buildings catching fire. It was the first time they'd ever spoke to one another in the presence of others, and it was hell that welcomed them. "No, you have – done enough," he manage, even as his wound doubled him over and he wobbled. Yuuta caught him, his hands instantly covered in blood from Keiji's wound.
"I'm so sorry!" Yuuta cried. "I was – I was planning to come with you! I was, I only wanted to warn him, I did not think he would plan an attack so soon! Oh, please, Keiji... Please let me get you to a doctor."
Keiji faultered, his eyes growing glassy. "I will – die before – you reach anyone," he coughed violently, but he still tried to pull away from Yuuta, unwilling to be near him, unwilling to have him touch his arm or care for his life as it spilled out all around them.
Yuuta sobbed, all pretense of rivalry forgotten between them for that moment as he put a dirty hand to Keiji's face, which was mired with blood and sweat. "I'm so sorry, Keiji... I was wrong, I should not have – I cannot – Please, I lo -"
"There he is!" a shout interrupted him, and Yuuta flinched, even as he heard three of his clansmen gather at his back, his brother chief among them. "Look, Yuuta has wounded Oroku Keiji! Finish him, Yuuta! Kill him!"
His face hidden from the others, Yuuta shook his head at Keiji. "No," he whimpered again. "No, I cannot -"
"Do it," Keiji growled, their voices low between them. "I am – I am dying anyway, Yuuta."
Yuuta dropped his hand from Keiji's face and tried blindly to find his wound. "I cannot let you do this, Keiji. I cannot let you die."
"You have already killed me!" Keiji hissed, before his strength wavered and he nearly toppled forward. Yuuta caught him at the shoulder, even as the jeers and cries for death grew louder behind him. They could not see his tears, not as Keiji lifted his head and groaned to Yuuta, struggling to speak.
"Find my sons," he told him in trembling tones, and now he cried as well, his thoughts turning to them. "Do not let them die here, Yuuta. That is - all - you can do for me now." When Yuuta hesitated, Keiji gripped his shirt. "Promise me!" At last, Yuuta nodded, and he pulled away from Keiji's crouched form. With cheers sounding behind him, he took in one long, deep breath as he watched Keiji straighten, in an effort to gain some dignity, and look directly at Yuuta's face.
"I'm sorry," Yuuta mouthed one last time, his tearful gaze hidden from his family as he pulled out his sword. With one quick thrust, he ended Keiji's blank stare, and the other fell to the ground, dead. His brother shouted gleefully behind him.
"Oroku Keiji is dead! We are nearly won!"
Yuuta did not wipe at his tears, knowing their mixed with blood and sweat. Another voice shouted behind him. "We should find Oroku Keiji's sons! Kill them, to make certain they do not rise against us!"
Yuuta turned swiftly, his face suddenly hard, his sword in hand once more. "No one will lay a hand on those boys," he commanded, drawing their attention. "I will find them and end them myself. And if anyone dare touch them before I do, I will personally cut his throat."
The others nodded, backing away with great measure and caution, and Yuuta swept past them without another word.
I searched for hours through the ongoing battle, and the rubble that had once been the Oroku estate. Grief choked me, and every step felt laden with a weight I feared I would never throw off, but I continued with a single minded purpose.
After many hours, I began to fear I had failed Keiji in my very last promise to him, and the knowledge of that was almost too much to bear. I hated every bit of myself, every inch of skin, every muscle, every feeling. They all felt like such a waste without Keiji.
Just as I was about to give up, and thus give in to a despair that would have surely killed me, I heard a cry. After searching frantically, I found, next to a dead woman, a small infant wailing under the weight of her unmoving arm. When I picked up the child, swaddled in a blanket, I looked to its face. What I found there was so like Keiji that I had to look away. The pain was too great.
This small child was Keiji's second son.
Others continued to fight around me, but I saw only this small piece of Keij bundled in my arms, this promise I had every hope and desire of fulfilling. When the infant was safe, I returned to the Oroku estate to search for Keiji's elder son, Nagi. To my everlasting shame, I could not find him.
And so I took home only the infant, to my waiting wife and son.
"Will you do it?"
The young woman peered at her husband, features pinched with concern and confusion. "But, Yuuta... I simply do not understand. Why would you take the child of your enemy and ask me to call him my own? Why do you want to care for him?"
They each looked down to the very young infant, no more than a few weeks old, as he lay in the crib that had once belonged to Yoshi. He squealed and wiggled against his blankets, and Yuuta's wife, Chitose, reached forward with a smile and adjusted his soft head.
Yuuta watched the boy with unmoving expression.
"He is only a baby," he said at last. "The battle was not his fault. He did not deserve to die."
Chitose looked to Yuuta again, though her gentle hand remained poised on the tiny infant. "Well," she said, stroking the baby's soft cheek. "I suppose that is true."
"And so will you do it?" asked Yuuta evenly. "Will you claim him as yours?"
Chitose paused only a moment more, wordlessly drawing the blanket up around the baby with the soft, affectionate motions of a mother. "Yes," she agreed with a smile. "I will call him mine. We can go away for a few months, and when we return, we will keep him up at the house with us, and not take him into town. In a little while, he will be old enough that no one will know the difference in his age."
Yuuta nodded, unable to relax even in the midst of Chitose's agreement. Reluctantly, he reached out a hand to brush against the infant, and just the touch of soft skin made him lean closer and peer at the child with unveiled emotion.
"We cannot call him by his name," Chitose said after a moment, too polite to question her husband's strong feelings towards the infant. "We will have to think of another."
The infant reached up with a toothless yawn and gripped Yuuta's fingertip, causing him to smile, even as pain speared his heart.
"Saki," he murmured. "We can call him Saki."
My dear wife kept her promise, and together we claimed Saki as our own. We kept both of the boys away for some months, claiming distress after the battle, and when we returned, we replaced all the servants on the estate and invited no one for a long while. As Chitose had guessed, no one saw us often enough to wonder about Saki, and by now, no one who knows of him has ever thought to question his origin.
Chitose succombed to an illness just a week ago. I do miss her, but I am more fearful for my sons, who are yet only seven and five. They miss their mother, and they cry for her. I can give them no real comfort for that. I am not their mother. And I cry for her, as well. She was sanguine, thoughtful and a wonderful mother to both Yoshi and Saki. I could not have asked for more, by all rights awarded to any man in my position, though I desired more still.
After the battle, I searched for Keiji's key to our chest, but I could not find it. It might have been buried with him, or tossed aside from his ashes. I am not of his clan, and I never knew what became of his remains, an idea that pains me every time I think of it. And so, after I finish these words, I will seal them away in the comfort of knowing that no one will read them. I will destroy my key, and it will be done.
For I must move on, and raise my children on my own, with the knowledge that these years spent with Keiji can be nothing but painful to me now, just as hurtful to my heart as they were joyful to my life.
I wronged him, and my every day is darker for it, but it is the past, and that is not a place I can afford to revisit.
It is no place for anyone at all, I think.
April lowered the paper, blinded behind her tears, and as she set the long scroll aside, she looked in the chest and spotted with a gasp the Kura Kabuto. The shining helmet, aged and ominous, that was symbolic of The Shredder in every way.
"April?" Saki called from the hallway, and she hurriedly rolled up the paper and wiped away her tears.
"One minute!" she shouted back, and she pushed both the helmet and the scrolls back into the chest, which she closed and locked with her key. Then she replaced the chest on the shelf, tucked her key back into her shirt and took in a steadying breath.
"Are you alright?" asked Saki as he met her in the corridor. "You were in there for a long time."
She forced a smile and took his hand, her fingers tight in his. "Just got distracted," she said, tugging him away from the dojo. "Let's get some breakfast." Saki eyed her for a moment before nodding, and they left together for the kitchen, with April taking one last glance at the Hamato dojo.