It was another late night for Yakeru, staring up at the moon with an empty cup in his hand.
Both Yakeru and Fuyuko spent the entire day training with Goemon, catching up on what they missed from the last week and incorporating new skills into their routines. As their mentor and trainer, Goemon is going to hit all the bases and teach the kids the basics to every weapon, just in case they are without one, and use the first thing they could get their hands on. Taijutsu will need some more work but both Fuyuko and Yakeru were told that they still needed a few more weeks of recovery before they could do any intense hand-to-hand combat. And the two were also asked to keep abilities to the minimum, as it would benefit them to learn how to fight without them and slowly gain stamina for future use.
The redhead felt exhausted, but for some reason even after being thrown into training, he did not feel tired. Instead of reading, Yakeru chose to sip on some green tea and gaze at the familiar sky.
Oh, how often he watched the sky, only for it to be so different but so familiar each and every night.
"You're still up?" Yakeru is pulled out of his dazed state and turns back to find his mentor and father standing behind him wearing a black yukata, blending into the dark corridor behind him.
"Yeah," Yakeru turns back towards the moon, "can't sleep."
"May I join you?"
Yakeru stiffens at the question, unfamiliar to the softness in his voice and familiarity in his actions. But that is his defense going up when he knows in his brain that there was no need for the wall between them. Trying to let out the breath he is holding, Yakeru nods once, continuing to keep his gaze away from him and his focus on the speckled sky.
Goemon walks silently up to the kid and sits down next to him, about a foot of space between them as a medium for the both of them; Yakeru especially. Even under his yukata, Goemon saw the stiffness in his spine and shoulders, his chest trying not to expand as he was holding a breath in. He knew it was still a long way before they can get any closer, but hopefully, within the weeks, Goemon can be given just a sliver of information about Yakeru's mother. That's something that has been coming up from the back of his mind. Who the hell was his mother? With the age of Yakeru, Goemon could only assume someone from his earlier ninja days or…
Goemon shook his head slightly, pushing the darker days to the back of the depths of his consciousness and keeping it under lock and key. Looking up to focus on the stars that Yakeru has been staring at for the last few hours, he takes in the silence around him and inhales the crisp, cool air.
"Danto-san," Goemon side glances at the kid, finding him taking cautious shallow breaths as he spoke, "who is he to you?"
Goemon thought for a second. Not to answer the question, but to think that maybe he should be open to the kid about his life, even if it does bring up the gray area in his life. The not-so-bad of it.
"Danto isn't blood if you are asking," Goemon states, looking back up at the sky and spotting a shadow of a bat swooping from treetop to treetop, barely rustling the leaves as it flew around. "Being a runaway made it hard for me to live a comfortable life when I was young. Probably cause I looked like I was trouble, even though people didn't really get to know me. But not Danto. While still somewhat of an older man back then, he found me wondering one day and brought me in. It was me who had the trust issues towards the random old guy bringing in a street kid for food and a bed."
Goemon takes a quick glance at Yakeru, finding him turned towards him slightly, a blank expression to hide the fact that he was in fact interested in the story he was telling him.
"I repaid him as much as I could, with anything I could get my hands on." The statement causes Yakeru to frown, knowing well what he meant. "And for years, before I could get on my feet, I relied on Danto for support. Yara right behind him as he was already in an individual hedge, even at a young age. Small, but one with some of the best info finders Japan has ever seen. Once in a while, someone from the group will go on lease for another clan, but they mostly tried to stick with themselves."
"So Yarichiko-san was the reason you became a ninja?" Yakeru's question was innocent, but Goemon stiffened.
Images flashed from that night. The night where everything went wrong. The smell of blood, the black pool at his feet, the crazed eyes that stared at him through the dark room. The irony taste making him almost vomit as the night replays again after years of being hidden away and sworn to never be seen again. He shut his eyes tightly, a fist held to his forehead as a migraine suddenly surfaces.
"Goemon?" Yakeru asks with a hint of concern in his voice.
"I'm heading to bed. Good night." Goemon tells him quickly, jumping up from the deck and swiftly walking down the corridor with silent steps.
Yakeru was barely able to process the reaction from Goemon before he disappeared on him. Staring into the dark hallway, Yakeru sat in confusion before looking back at the sky and muttering to himself, "Did I say something?"
~ PYRODYNASTY ~
Kotaro sat on his futon, unable to sleep, with a book in hand. Alone in his room, he allowed Fuyuko to sleep in Yakeru's room once again since they will be getting up early together for training, so the fact that he was for some reason still up at an ungodly hour made it harmless to anyone but himself.
Usually though, if Kotaro was up at such an hour, there would usually be an immediate reason.
Just then, his door slams open, and rushing in is a shaken-up Goemon.
Ah, there it is.
"Goemon," Kotaro looks up at him in confusion before taking in the mental state of his friend. "What happened?"
The albino stood up from his futon and walked up to the redhead, holding his shoulders and feeling his body tremble. His eyes were shut tight like he was afraid to see something he disliked if he opened them.
"Goemon." He calls him again.
"I… don't…"
Oh shit.
"No, no, no." Kotaro pulls him to the futon and sits him down in front of him, rubbing his arms to try to calm him down. "No, Goemon. Don't think about it."
Even with tightly closed eyelids, tears still streamed down in rhythm, pooling underneath his chin and dripping on his dark yukata.
"Goemon, that was not you. You don't need to remember what someone else did. It wasn't your fault." Kotaro continues to try to keep his mind off the event. Something he knew was completely life-changing.
This wasn't the first, and will definitely not be the last time Goemon has a panic attack because he remembered that night. It hurt him. Maybe not physically, but his mental health is what declined to the point of self-harm for a few months before they were able to find a way to help him not constantly remember the night. While it may have helped most of the time, he could still be triggered in some ways that would cause a panic attack as he is having at the moment.
Kotaro cups Goemon's face, pulling him to look up into his eyes. "Goemon, you are not there." Goemon's gold eyes glisten with the tears, "I'm right here with you."
Goemon leans in, cradling his face under Kotaro's chin, tears continue to stream down at the thought of the memory that is being pushed back by the subtle smell of gunpowder and pine. Kotaro wrapped one arm around his friend as the other rubbed his back to continue to subdue the anxiety.
It was going to be a long night, but he is fine with that. As long as his friend stops thinking of that day and stays near him, he is willing to stay up for him every night if needed.
~ PYRODYNASTY ~
Musashi stretches his arms over his head as the early morning dew settles to the ground, Kura following next to him and letting out a yawn.
"That was a good night," Musashi says out loud, cracking his back as he rolls back his shoulders.
"Sorry about that," Kura mutters under his breath as he continues to drag his feet.
"What? Nah, don't worry about it. You win some, you lose some." Musashi pats his pupil's shoulder, giving him a warm reassuring smile before walking up towards a noodle shop.
"But, I made you jump in to protect me when it was my fight," Kura shook his head, frowning at the ground.
"You still need some time to gain the experience. So until you can really take on a samurai, I am happy to keep you safe by taking your fights."
As the two were about to enter the ramen shop, Musashi notices a group of men walking through the empty streets of the village before noticing the one in the very center of the group. Even with the rouge samurai next to him, the old guy was the only one with the most blood on his hands, and he was looking for more.
Musashi's breath hitches, realization suddenly surfacing at the situation. "Oh no. This isn't good."