an ode to a wanderer's weary soul;
onward you shall press
towards the starless night sky.
Kazuha shoots awake, gasping for air. His heart pounds in his chest and his breath comes out in ragged gasps. Muted panic settles in his bones and he reaches for his sword. But he's alone in his room, no one for him to fight and no one for him to answer to. But he can't quell the anxiety coursing beneath his skin.
He curls in on himself, digging one hand into the fabric of the sheets and clutching Vision around his neck with the other. He removes his Vision before sleep, the pale green light a stain against the table beside him, but he refuses to remove this one. It's cold against his skin where it once was burning and it fits perfectly into the imprint on his palm.
He tightens his grip and lets the metal dig into his palm. He desperately wants to see the Vision relit, to see it's brilliant glow once more. But he doesn't know what he'll do without its presence by his side, one of the many reminders of who he once was.
A hand brushes against his shoulder, the touch feather-light and nearly unnoticeable yet chilling all the same. "Breathe Kazuha, remember that." The words are murmured against his ear, soft and curled with an emotion Kazuha could never decipher.
Kazuha stiffens, the air within the room stirring even with his Vision halfway across it. He draws in a breath. His voice shakes when he speaks, low and dulled. "Tomo."
Tomo hums, the movement of his chest distinct against Kuzuha's back. Tomo runs a hand through Kazuha's hair and he relishes in the touch, despite what he knows. He looks up to meet Tomo's gaze and the half-turn of his lips in a lopsided smile. It aches in Kazuha's chest. He brings his hand up to cup Tomo's cheek.
And only meets empty air.
He drops back down on his bed, closing his eyes and releasing the Vision from his grasp. His heart no longer pounds, but his chest aches with the chilling weight of the Vision pressing against his skin. He sighs. If only he could hold onto Tomo's touch for even a moment longer.
But it's fleeting, even now, as he sits and tries to remember it.
—
The first time Kazuha saw Tomo, he almost killed himself.
It was mere days after the Shogun struck down Tomo and Kazuha stole his Vision and ran. All he could do was duck his head and travel from city to city, hoping his luck held out long enough. He hasn't been discovered yet, but he sticks to the side streets and alleys. He doesn't stay in one place long enough for people to get a good look at him and he keeps the brim of his hat angled downwards.
He still appears suspicious like this, but he would rather be suspected of being a thief than a wanted man. It's easier this way, or at least that's what he tells himself. People's stares linger but only long enough to ensure doesn't have anything he shouldn't.
He walks down the street quickly and with purpose. The wind carries the scent of rain, damp and heavy in the air. If he isn't careful, he'll be caught out in it. The last time that happened, he narrowly escaped coming down with a fever. He glances at the shops lining the side of the street when he stops. People shove past him, but he cannot move.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Tomo. It—it could've just been a trick of the light, a desperate attempt to forget what had happened those days ago.
The Vision in his pocket burns against his skin but is painfully cold to the touch.
He whips his head around, drawing his gaze up and attention to him. For a moment, he convinces himself that it was just his imagination. Futile and a concerning reflection of his state of mind. He can't afford to lose that now, not when he's still on the run. Not when he still holds onto Tomo's Vision.
But standing on the thinning edges of the crowd is Tomo. He leans against the building with a grin, his arms crossed over his chest. Kazuha waits a sickening moment for Tomo to disappear because he shouldn't be alive. Because he's dead and it was Kazuha's fault and the blood still stains—
The smile melts from Tomo's expression and he frowns. He turns and darts off, slipping into the nearest alleyway.
Kazuha takes off after him, shoving people out of his way. They glare at him, but he doesn't have any time to apologize. Against all odds, Tomo is here. Alive.
The Vision in his pocket still feels cold and he knows that it should be bright, burning him from the inside out. If Tomo was truly alive, his Vision would still be alight, faint but thriving off the beat of his heart. But that thought, that consideration, didn't cross Kazuha's mind.
The only thing he could think was to keep pressing onward.
He rounds the corner Tomo disappeared from, continuing down the alley. It opens into another street, still bustling with activity despite the setting sun and darkening clouds. He can't see Tomo with all these people. Aching regret tears through him and bitter frustration presses against his lungs. He was so close and he still let Tomo slip from his grasp.
"Kazuha!" Tomo's voice cuts through the murmur of the crowd, crystal clear and still curling with the lilting note Kazuha could never forget.
Kazuha whips around at the sound of Tomo's voice, spotting him at the far end of the street. Tomo gives him a wave while taking a few steps backwards towards the bridge behind him. Someone passes in front of Kazuha and Tomo disappears from sight.
Kazuha pushes through the crowd, slowing to a stop at the bridge. Tomo is leaning against the railing, practically halfway over the edge. He isn't looking at Kazuha, his gaze set on the inky water beneath him. The setting sun turns his hair golden and makes the dull purple of his eyes glow.
He glances over to Kazuha and smirks, always one step ahead of him and knowing something Kazuha should. Kazuha takes one step onto the bridge and Tomo disappears.
Kazuha sprints onto the bridge, practically colliding into the railing in an attempt to reach Tomo. But he's gone. The water beneath the bridge is clear and void of any life. Kazuha's breath catches in his throat, choking him as he leans further down. Tomo can't be gone. It—it isn't possible. Kazuha had just gotten him back.
There was the distinct possibility, one that lurkers in the back of his mind, that he's going insane. That this Tomo was just a figment of his imagination, a desperate attempt to escape his own pitiful reality.
His grip on the railing slips and his already risky position becomes perilous. He flails, lashing out to grab onto something.
A hand grabs a fistful of his kimono and pulls him away from the edge. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Kazuha stumbles against the railing, drawing in deep, desperate breaths. It does nothing to quell his racing heart. He looks up to meet the sharp gaze of his rescuer. He looks away. "I'm sorry."
The man narrows his eyes, suspicion bleeding into his expression. "Who exactly are you?" Kazuha swallows, hard. The thin confusion in the man's gaze sharpens into realization. "You're the one the Shogun is hunting."
Kazuha pushes himself from the railing, no matter how unsteady his legs feel. The connection with his sword is sharp in his mind and biting against his skin, but he doesn't dare draw his weapon. "If you know what's good for you, I was never here." His voice is cold, foreign to his own ears and he hates it. He was never supposed to be this cruel to people who were never involved in the first place. He would call them innocents if he didn't know that no one is truly innocent.
The man gives him a stiff nod, shifting away from him. Kazuha takes a careful step backwards, watching for any sudden movements from the man, before turning and running in the opposite direction. The man doesn't follow him, but Kazuha doesn't believe for a second that he wouldn't go to the authorities.
Kazuha leaves the city, rain following him only a few minutes later. It soaks his clothes, sticking them against his skin and making it hard to run. He stops beneath a small alcove on the cliff side. The rain picks up, dropping sheets of water on the land. Thunder rumbles in the distance and Kazuha presses himself further into the wall.
The sound of another person sitting draws his attention. He doesn't look over, his gaze set on the blurry horizon, but he knows it's Tomo. "Why did you leave?" He tries to harden his voice with anger but the desperate longing bleeds through anyways.
Tomo hums before he responds, stretching the silence into a few painful minutes. "You were there."
His words explain absolutely nothing and everything all at the same time. They can't live at the same time. For Kazuha to continue living, Tomo had to die. "Why now?"
"No reason." Tomo's words are playful, a sharp contrast to Kazuha's question. Kazuha finally looks over to him, trying not to frown. "Don't give me that look."
Kazuha looks back to the rain, drawing his knees to his chest. He's cold and the chilling metal of the Vision does nothing to help. The rain drowns out his voice, his words muted and strained. "Are you going to leave again?"
Kazuha can feel Tomo's gaze on his back, piercing. But he won't look his way. "Are you staying in Inazuma?" Tomo ignores Kazuha's question, his voice purposely blank.
"No." The response feels heavy against Kazuha's tongue, so distinctly wrong for him to consider. Inazuma is his home land. He can't leave it behind.
But he must, if he wants to survive. If he wants to continue carrying Tomo's Vision, continue carrying everything that made Tomo who he is.
Kazuha doesn't need to turn back to know that Tomo is gone.
—
Tomo doesn't return for weeks on end, staying away to the point Kazuha writes the entire experience off as some feverish haze. It doesn't explain why he never felt feverish or why remembers the entire event with startling clarity. It's just easier if he pretends it never happened.
He is staying true to his word. He pushes his trek towards Narukami Island. It's the northernmost island and with the most shipping traffic. If he wanted to fashion himself a boat to leave, this would be the best place to do so.
While he travels, he takes great care to draw as little attention to himself as possible. There is an occasional kind soul that will let him shelter for the night, but he often sleeps beneath rocky outcrops or trees. He falls into a fragile routine of traveling as far as he could, purchasing what he can with the measly remains of Mora in his position, and tiring himself out enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. Or as dreamless as he could get.
He still wakes with the bitter panic in his chest but it's without the memories of his dreams. It's more bearable when he can convince himself it was an overreaction rather than spend hours dwelling on what he knows was truth.
Once he arrives in Narukami, he sets to work on his boat. It's difficult, even here, to scavenge the wood necessary to build one. He works until nightfall and even then some, trying to complete it before he's caught.
He drags the remaining pieces of his boat, it's really a raft but it makes him more confident in what he's doing if he calls it a boat, to the edge of water. The sun runs against the horizon and it will set in half an hour or so. Just enough time for him to assemble it and push off.
He wants to leave under the darkness of night, where there's less of a chance of him being caught leaving the shores.
As he's pulling together the remainder of what he likes to call a hull, he hears the sound of someone's approach. It's strange because he would've tasted it on the wind far sooner than he would've heard it. He stiffens, hand brushing against the hilt of his sword, and turns around.
Tomo stands beneath a nearby tree, shaded by the blossoms overhead. In the setting sun, the shadows are blue and the normally pink leaves are a reddening. Tomo gives him a lazy grin and Kazuha drops everything in his hands.
The wood clatters to the sand, the sound thankfully muffled. Kazuha stills, listening for the sound of the guards' approach. But no one comes.
When he looks back to the tree, Tomo hasn't moved. He stands against it, his arms crossed over his chest. "Who were you looking for?"
"I am a wanted man." Kazuha keeps his voice low, walking closer to Tomo but still leaving a handful of meters between them. "There are many people who could come after such a sound."
Tomo shrugs, his movements loose and relaxed. It oozes with familiarity, achingly so. All Kazuha can do is stand here and watch, rooted. Tomo looks over his shoulder and out to the sea. "When are you leaving?"
"Tonight." Kazuha dislikes the longing in Tomo's voice. It sounds like the desperation that comes from wanting something you know you cannot have. "You are coming, right?"
Tomo is silent and Kazuha realizes that he isn't going to respond. He takes a single, hesitant step forward, waiting for Tomo to disappear. When he doesn't, Kazuha rushes forward, barely stopping before they touch. He swallows, his voice catching in his throat. "Please promise me that you'll come. I—I can't do this again."
Tomo stares at him, his eyes shadowed. "I can't promise you that."
Kazuha reaches out for Tomo's hand. All he meets is empty air.
—
Kazuha still launches the boat that night. There is nothing left for him in Inazuma, the Vision tied on a cord around his neck. It presses against his chest, the metal still cold and biting.
The waters are calm now, with him being only a few kilometers from the coast. But in the distance, he can see clouds stacking high. The scent of rain hangs heavy in the atmosphere, tinged with the faint taste of ozone. It's startlingly familiar to the taste of the Electro the Shogun wields.
He does little to keep the boat on course, rowing when he needs but letting the wind guide him from the shore. If he truly falls off track, he can coax the wind into his sails with his Vision.
The night is long, but he cannot sleep. Adrenaline courses in his veins and he can't tear his gaze from the horizon. The storm grows steadily closer but still a good day's trip away. The only thing he has to look for now is a passing ship, but even the chance of one passing is slim. With the Sakoku Decree, there is little ability for people to leave the islands.
Just as the sun starts to rise, he finds his focus waning. It's first when he blinks and minutes bleed away like sand between his fingers. He doesn't know how much time he lost, but the islands of Inazuma look smaller when he turns back.
The next time he feels himself drifting off, he dips his hand into the water and lets the burn from the salt against his wound jerk him awake.
It's when he's drying off his hand and wrapping it does he realize he's not alone. Tomo sits across him, his eyes tracing each turn of the bandage. Kazuha says nothing, afraid that his words would only be heard by the sea.
They sit in silence as the sun rises further into the sky. It beats down on the exposed skin on his face and neck. Sweat beads beneath his clothes but he doesn't dare remove them. If he gets burned, he'll only risk succumbing to sun sickness. The last thing he needs now is to be feverish and lethargic.
Tomo hasn't moved since he set his gaze on the horizon, watching as the clouds stack and fall. They are still half-a-day away, but the air is heavy with humidity and anticipation. "What are you going to do to get across that?" His voice is quieter, almost subdued.
Kazuha still doesn't know how he's going to get across the storm with his boat. If he's lucky, it won't get thrown against the rocks. "Hope and pray."
"Who are you going to pray to?" Tomo looks over to him, the question phrased innocently enough but the words barbed.
Kazuha cannot answer that. There is no one left for him to pray to, after abandoning his Archon. "Were you afraid," he draws in a breath, letting it settle in his chest before exhaling. His voice could barely be heard over the sound of the waves against the hull. "When you faced the Shogun?"
"No." Tomo won't look at him, a frown tugging at his lips. "I knew what I was getting into the moment I challenged the Vision Hunt Decree."
Kazuha knows this and he doesn't know why he bothered asking the question in the first place. Maybe it was in some attempt to relate the anxiety beneath his skin to something Tomo experienced.
Maybe it was just a reminder of the blood that stains his hands.
They hit the storm by nightfall, or at least what he assumes was nightfall. The clouds started darkening the sky hours before the sun set and he can only trust that his internal clock is accurate. Rain falls, slowly at first but picking up in intensity the further Kazuha sails into the storm. It soaks his clothes but there's little else he can do but endure. For now, he's pulled down the sail, securing it with a bit of rope.
Tomo hasn't left yet, but Kazuha doesn't push his luck by asking. Tomo's presence is a comforting one, a reminder that he isn't as alone as he thought.
It should concern him that he's come to accept this ghost that has come to haunt him. It's likely that Tomo is no more real than the whispered legends, but Kazuha can't think of him as anything else but real. If he doesn't, there are far more worse problems he'll be facing.
It's difficult for him to see even a few meters in front of him, the wind and rain obscuring his senses. He can barely taste anything other than the rain and the shrap tang of lightning. Thunder rumbles overhead and lightning breaks across the sky.
He can only hope that a strike doesn't hit him.
He's hit with the faint scent of wood, unfamiliar and unrecognizable. He cannot see anything in the distance but he could only assume that it's from another ship. Who could be out here, braving the storm as well?
He doesn't even get time to consider the question before the floor beneath him snaps in two.
The water is bitingly cold and stings against the sunburns on his skin. He flounders, coughing as he keeps drawing water into his lungs. He can't find anything to grab onto, he can't find the surface, he can't find Tomo. Tomo disappeared, no doubt just as lost as Kazuha.
Kazuha has to find him. He can't lose him just after he's finally gotten him back.
But the water weighs on his limbs and no matter how many times he kicks towards the surface, he's dragged back down to the depths. Exhaustion weighs on his limbs and his Vision can do nothing to help him now. There is no way for him to force the water from his lungs.
Light breaks across the surface, blurry from the water. Kazuha can't focus. He's lost, fallen beneath the waves to forever surface the Shogun's wrath. He was not meant to survive another day after Tomo's death.
He closes his eyes.
A hand wraps around his wrist and he is torn from the water. All he can do is cough broken sobs, unsure if he's crying because wanted to be saved or because he didn't.
—
Kazuha stands in one of the lower halls in the Alcor, eyes narrowed and shoulders bristled. His sword hums in the back of his mind, mere seconds from being drawn.
Tomo stands across from him, still stoic. He hasn't spoken a word since returning, only watching.
At first, Kazuha was immensely relieved. But as the passing days started growing and Tomo refused to speak with him, the relief molded into confusion. And then frustration.
Kazuha couldn't understand why Tomo wouldn't speak, but he was starting to understand what was going on. No matter how much he tries or pretends, this isn't Tomo. He left Tomo before the Shogun, taking only his Vision in his grasp as he ran. The Tomo before him is who remains after you've lost everything.
He's a figment of Kazuha's imagination, the desperate longings of a pathetic person. There was nothing more. Whatever relationship he had with Tomo was lost and no matter how much he tries, he cannot salvage it.
Kazuha draws his blade. Tomo doesn't shift, his gaze set firmly to match Kazuha's. Kazuha swallows and levels his sword at Tomo's chest. For once, Tomo won't disappear.
"You're not him." Kazuha's voice shakes and he can't steady his sword. "You can't keep pretending to be." He's already killed Tomo twice, what's once more? No matter what he does, Tomo won't stop haunting him.
"Can you do it?" Tomo's voice is cold and completely unlike him. Kazuha has only heard him speak like that once and the memory sends chills down his spine.
Kazuha tightens his grip on the sword, pressing the tip against Tomo's chest. It barely cuts through the cloth of his kimono. He can't breathe.
No matter what he thinks of doing, he cannot bring himself to press the blade into Tomo's chest.
The sword clatters to the floor and Kazuha drops with it. His knees collide against the wood and he presses his hands against the floor.
Tomo is gone, leaving nothing behind to indicate he was ever there at all.
—
Kazuha sits on the railing of the crow's nest, gaze set on the horizon. The sun is just starting to rise and the sky is painted with the pale blues and yellows. The air is crisp at this height, clear of the scent of rain.
Tomo leans on the railing beside him, a gentle smile tugging on his lips. He's looking out to the sea but glances over after feeling the weight of Kazuha's gaze. Unlike before, when he would speak often and unprompted, Tomo is silent. He rarely speaks without being spoken to and even then his responses are unreliable.
At one point, it irked Kazuha to no end, desperate for something more than the stony silence he's receiving. But now, he's come to appreciate the moments where they can sit in silence, content with only Tomo's presence.
Lately, Tomo's taken to following him, watching from a good ten or so meters away. He doesn't approach unless Kazuha is alone, resigning himself to sitting and watching. Kazuha doesn't know what to make of the distance but he now knows better than to ask. Tomo being here now is better than when Kazuha was left alone.
A gentle breeze stirs the air. He closes his eyes and pictures only what the wind tells him. It's a quiet picture, with him being one of the few people awake at this hour.
He expects Tomo to be gone when he opens his eyes. The wind could never touch Tomo and he couldn't sense him with it. He had to trust what he was seeing to be true.
"I'm going back to Inazuma." The words hang in the air, heavy with intention. Kazuha won't look at Tomo, unwilling to see his expression. "Will I find you?"
"Can you?" Tomo asks, his words reminiscent of a musing.
"I will try." A steel rests in Kazuha's voice, sharper and stronger than anything he's said. "I left you there once already. I will find you again."
Tomo hums, the doubt clear. But he doesn't argue, and he hasn't for a long, long time.
By the time the sun rises, Tomo is gone.