The explosion shook the earth and rang in Tsukishima's ears like no sound he had ever heard before. So great was the shockwave that it knocked him, and several others, flat on the ground. For but a moment, the war-torn streets of Odanii were still, and silent. Then the castle began to collapse, and all hell broke loose.
From his vantage point atop a hill, the surrounding city mostly razed to rubble, Tsukishima saw all. The castle walls shook and caved in on themselves and crumbled in a great heap of dust and stone. The area had been mostly clear before the explosion, a telltale sign of a trap, but it wasn't void of human life. People scattered and ran as fast as they could; few made it. Screams rang out and were cut short just as quickly in a single noted symphony of fear. It was times like these that Tsukishima wished he had the control over his synergy that Yamaguchi had. But alas, his visions only visited him at their whimsy, and the fall of the castle was an unpredicted casualty.
The fond, albeit short, thought of Yamaguchi was enough to snap Tsukishima out of his musings. Few things could cause an explosion of such magnitude as to bring down the entire Odanii castle. It was the work of a machine, a sinister and powerful machine, that much was clear. What was also clear, was the fact that the snakes would never, not while sound of mind and sure of their strength, destroy their stronghold. Surely then, the exploded machine must have been some kind of superior weapon meant to turn the rides of battle. Tsukishima was no technical genius, but he could guess that a malfunction had caused the machine to self-destruct. Who else but Yamaguchi could pull off such a feat?
Tsukishima's blood coursed white-hot with joint fear and rage at the realisation that Yamaguchi could not have possibly escaped the fallout. The prince spared but a glance at his recovering brigade of firefly soldiers as he sprinted towards the ruined castle. The explosion had been great, and Yamaguchi surely had to be close to the epicentre, but Tsukishima had to hold out hope, for his own sanity. He could not, would not accept Yamaguchi's death without proof.
Several sets of footfalls synced up with Tsukishima's, and their owners identified themselves as medics before the blond could lash out and attack them. He reached the rubble at the same time as multiple other medical groups, some from his own country, some native, and some from the monastic north. They, organised and professionally trained medics that they were, started from the outside, where they were most likely to reach survivors, but Tsukishima blew past them. He didn't know where to start, not where the explosion had started, nor how far out Yamaguchi could have made it, but he ran further in anyways and scanned the ground frantically as he went.
The first few metres were nightmarish. Blood, dust, and stone mixed together in thick pools by unmoving bodies. Many were half crushed, pulverised to the point of unrecognizability. Occasionally, Tsukishima would, in his frenzy, spot the occasional survivor, though there were few. Closest to the edge were soldiers conscious enough to try and free themselves or call for help, those ones Tsukishima ignored. Further in, where small fires smouldered, were the unconscious bodies. Anytime Tsukishima saw anyone still breathing, he gave a shout to the medics, but he did not stop and pressed further on.
Tsukishima careened into the courtyard, and instantly knew he wouldn't find life much further beyond that point. The courtyard itself was mostly aflame and scattered heavily with large boulders and castle chunks. Aside from the flaming refuse, however, the area seemed mostly empty.
Still, Tsukishima held out hope. Any further in the castle and Yamaguchi would certainly be dead, if not yet, then at least by the time anyone found his body in the ruins. Yamaguchi was smart though, and fast, and he could have maybe made it to the courtyard before the explosion hit. Maybe. Tsukishima began his search anyway.
Perched upon a particularly tall hunk of dislodged castle, Tsukishima scanned the area for any sign of anything. There were three pools of fresh blood, all semi-obscured by flame and stone. Tsukishima ran to them like a man possessed.
The first was a woman, definitely dead. Her dark skin was already cold and pulseless; Tsukishima didn't bother to identify her beyond that.
The second blood spatter, for it wasn't much more than that, was utterly unidentifiable. It had been reduced to nothing more than a mash of blood, flesh, and cracked bone the consistency of overcooked oatmeal. Tsukishima sorely hoped the coagulating mass wasn't Yamaguchi.
The third blood pool was on the far end of the courtyard, and so Tsukishima ran to it as he tried to keep the panic suppressed. Instantly, he was flooded with relief and no small amount of dread. There, in the third blood puddle was Yamaguchi's body. His skin was pale, nearly drained of blood, and the rest of him was heavily bruised. Luckily, he was only partially crushed by rubble. A moderately sized, ornately carved, piece of castle wall lay on top of Yamaguchi's lower half, but his torso was unburdened. The blood mostly came from Yamaguchi's crushed legs. As gently as he could, Tsukishima clutched Yamaguchi's limp wrist and felt for a pulse.
There was one. Thank the goddess, Yamaguchi had a pulse. Even better, he was still warm, to the touch! Yamaguchi was alive, and Tsukishima felt he could cry. He did, in fact, cry, not that there was anyone to see it. Then, of course, came the issue of extracting Yamaguchi's body.
Tsukishima couldn't move the stone by himself, partially because he wasn't strong enough, but mostly because he didn't know the medical ramifications of such an action. So, he did what he usually hated to do and ran to ask for help.
The medical brigade had made decent progress since Tsukishima had left them, although there were more exhumed corpses than survivors. None of the medics closest to the courtyard were ones Tsukishima recognized, so he opted for those who bore the dark uniform of the underground resistance. Roused by the information of a fallen comrade of such importance as Yamaguchi, about a half dozen resistance medics joined Tsukishima in his mad dash back to the courtyard.
There, they held a rushed discussion about how to best free Yamaguchi, before four of them surrounded the boulder and lifted it. The other two instantly huddled around Yamaguchi's lower half, and Tsukishima couldn't see anything of his unconscious friend's legs from behind the backs of the medics. As the boulder was thrown to the side, the others, too, huddled around Yamaguchi and joined in the hushed conversation that had arisen. Worried for his friend, and none too keen on the useless feeling that had begun to well up in him, Tsukishima drew closer to see his friend.
Yamaguchi's legs were a gruesome sight. His left leg was twisted and bloody, his pants were torn, and through them, Tsukishima could see broken bone pierced through skin. The medics, efficient and professional, quickly and deftly set the bone and crafted a makeshift splint. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold until Yamaguchi could be carried to the medical tents proper. The other leg, though, the other leg was unsalvageable.
From the knee down, Yamaguchi's right leg was nothing but a bloody pulp. The bone and flesh had been mashed together with stone and dirt, which formed a vaguely leg-shaped, stringy mass. Even without the grim, somewhat horrified faces of the medics, Tsukishima knew the leg would have to be amputated from at least the knee downward. Much of the gelatinous crushed leg was so stuck to the ground that it could not be separated from the dirt, not cleanly leastways, so the medics pulled out their tools and performed the amputation there on the ground. They rubbed salve on all the open wounds, and then bandaged them up, and then stood back to collect and organise themselves.
There, on the ground, bandaged and bruised, lay Yamaguchi, still unconscious, and short a hand and a leg.
Tears flowed freely down Tsukishima's dirt-covered face as he shakily knelt down and lifted his friend. The medics trailed behind him silently as Tsukishima carried Yamaguchi out of the castle's blast radius. All but one of the medics returned to the rubble, while the last one politely kept her distance from Tsukishima as they walked. Tsukishima hadn't noticed it, but it had taken much longer than expected to find Yamaguchi and sort him out, and the sun, while high in the sky when Tsukishima had begun his search, had turned into a moon, equally high in the sky.
The streets were emptied of fighting in the time it had taken to find Yamaguchi, and the trek back to the armoury was a quick one. On occasion, Tsukishima would spot groups of soldiers slowly meandering about with each other as they picked through the corpses and identified comrades. For the most part, though, Tsukishima ignored any sign of life around him that wasn't in direct relation to Yamaguchi.
Despite the apparent end to the fighting within the city, the barracks were mostly empty of soldiers. Medics bustled about as they fussed over injured soldiers, and one of them raised a cry of alarm as they saw Tsukishima walk in. Some of the injured, those who were conscious and familiar with Yamaguchi, began to cry. Instantly a group rushed towards Tsukishima and the medic who had accompanied him.
Gently, they took Yamaguchi from Tsukishima's arms and laid him down on an operating table. The medic from the castle rubble steered Tsukishima away from the hubbub and sat him down in the adjacent room. Tsukishima hardly noticed the change in surroundings, not even as a blanket was placed around his shoulders and a mug of tea in his trembling hands.
He sat on the cold stone bench and stared at the swath of medics that surrounded Yamaguchi for both too long and too short a time. The tea had grown cold by the time Tsukishima fully came back to himself. Sat on his right side was Akaashi, brows furrowed and eyes red from crying, or perhaps lack of sleep. When he saw that Tsukishima had come to, Akaashi pursed his lips and began to fill in the other on the war's goings on.
The castle's explosion had not worked in the favour of the snakes, and the chaos that ensued had provided the allied resistance, who with the addition of the new northern armies outnumbered the snakes, with the opportunity to drive them out of the inner city. The snakes who had not been killed in battle had fled outward to the coast, where they were locked in battle with the resistance in an attempt to flee. Daishou and his high commanders had all managed to make it to the coast alive, and it had become the goal of the Fukoni resistance to either capture them or see them dead.
Tsukishima, upon the mention of Daishou's name, felt his blood boil with rage. Everything, all of the misfortunes that had befallen Tsukishima and his friends in the greater part of the year, all of it had been Daishou's fault. Tired and beaten down as he was, Tsukshima refused to sit by and mourn a man who might still live, when he could bring about vengeance on those who had forced him to suffer. Despite Akaashi's pleas for him to stay and rest, Tsukishima redonned his armour and set out for Odanii's ports with a new fervour.
The shore was chaos, as all places of war were, and Tsukishima almost feared he wouldn't be able to find his target in the clashing mass of soldiers. Almost. His quest for revenge was greatly aided by the absolute beacon that was Hinata's beastly form. On the sand, the orange-haired Kamelion thrashed and screeched and tore a path through the snake soldiers. His path of destruction was headed in the direction of a particularly well-armed group of soldiers, Tsukishima assumed they stood to protect the royals of the Slithering Isles, namely Daishou.
The blond gave out a great shout so as to catch Hinata's attention and was pleased to see it worked. Hinata's hulking apish form lifted up from the ground with but a beat of his skin and feathered wings. The snakes cowered from him, and several of the resistance's allies did as well. Tsukishima, however, stood proud and tall as he allowed his friend to firmly snatch him up in his claws. The very second Tsukishima was in Hinata's clutches, the Kamelion veered back to the bloody path he had created. From his vantage point in the sky, Tsukishima could see the coast, entirely covered with fighting soldiers. In the place that Hinata had made was the Nekarasi crew, sans Kenma and Akaashi, as they pushed their way toward the well-defended snake nobles. Hinata landed, and he and Tsukishima joined the fray seamlessly.
All time and sound seemed to fade away as Tsukishima sliced and hacked his way through the snake army. It seemed to him that, in those moments, however long they were, the world had been divided into two groups: the trustworthy Nekarasi crew, and the enemy. The lot of them moved and fought seamlessly together, unflinching and unyielding to the copious blood and death they wrought. Through the thunderous roar of war cries and dying creams, Tsukishima managed to convey Yamaguchi's state to his friends, and if they had been frenzied before, they were now absolutely feral. There was no room for mercy in the hearts of the Nekarasi crew.
In the dark hours of early morning, just before the sun began to rise but after the moon hid her pretty face, the ocean became alight with brilliant orange flame. Cheers erupted among the resistance troops, and the snakes cried out in distress as their ships went up in flames. With no means of escape, the snakes had become sitting ducks. At much the same time, the Nekarasi crew finally forced their way through the absolute wall that was Daishou's defending men.
Said man stood in the centre ring of his guards, as he brandished his sword frantically, clearly untrained. By his side stood a woman, she breathed heavily and each soldier she looked at seemed to heal of their worst wounds. She, Tsukishima assumed, was how the snake army had managed to last so long with their generally unfit and untrained soldiers, a healing synergist was a great benefit to any fight. Next to them, were several high-end strategists and commanders whom Tsukishima did not know and didn't care to.
Tsukishima jumped into the fray without question and did so, assured in the fact that his friends would join him. Much to his disappointment, despite how incompetent Daishou seemed with a sword, he held his ground well. The man fought as nothing less than a well-trained royal prodigy, and while he couldn't overpower Tsukishima, he wouldn't lose easily either. Daishou heaved and cackled and grinned like a madman, which Tsukishima supposed he was.
Tangentially aware of the rest of the skirmishes around him, Tsukishima took note of who was fighting whom. Bokuto, who wore light leather armour and brandished an axe, and Kuroo with his scimitars, had decided to face down two of Daishou's generals each, and while the fight didn't look to be easily won, Tsukishima was sure it would not be a fight lost. Hinata, still massive, paced in a ring around the fight and beat down anyone who sought to intervene. Yachi, knife in one hand and pistol in another, ruthlessly cut down the few who got past Hinata's defences and anyone who might catch the ginger unawares. Kageyama, filled with just as much righteous rage over Yamaguchi's injuries as Tsukishima, faced down against the healer woman, who was far more formidable with a knife than her waifish figure might have implied.
One by one, the generals and strategists fell, and only Daishou and the healer remained. Bokuto and Kuroo had turned to defend the circle; the fight between these last two was for Tsukishima and Kageyama alone.
It was the woman who first fell. She was fast and clever and could heal her own wounds, but Kageyama was simply too strong and too angry. Errant strands of hair clung to the healer's sweaty face as she heaved and shook with the effort to remain upright. Skilled fighter that she may have been, she was not built to withstand such a long duration, especially not after her extensive use of her synergy. She paused for but a moment, just one slight misstep, but it was enough. Kageyama slashed his blade once and speared her through the heart. Blood poured out of the wound like water from a broken fountain as he pulled out the sword, and that which had clung to the metal blade was sent up in the air in an arc of red.
Near instantly, Daishou became much easier to fight. Where once he seemed full of energy, he seemed tired and panicked. Cuts that had been scabbed over suddenly split open and poured out blood. Daishou's hands shook with exertion. Tsukishima had no patience for elongated fights, and when he saw the opportunity to decapitate Daishou, he took it. Sword ground through bone and sinew, and while the cut was not clean, Daishou's head was freed from his shoulders. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
Hinata gave a screech, and while Tsukishima couldn't understand the animal, he knew what had been asked of him. The prince grabbed Daishou's head by the hair and then climbed atop Hinata. The Kamelion lifted up into the sky and began to glide in slow wide circles around the battlefield.
Tsukishima stood precariously on his back and lifted Daishou's head for all to see "Your leader is dead, and your ships are burned, surrender now or face the same death that your king has already fallen to!"
Silence, sweet silence, blanketed the battlefield. Then came the sound of metal on the ground as the few hundred snakes left threw their weapons to the ground in defeat. The war, in all but paper, was finished, and nothing would ever harm Yamaguchi again, not if Tsukishima had something to say about it.