A True Direction
Written by: RinoaDestiny
~Clover fanfiction. All characters belong to CLAMP~
Shock. Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu doesn't know what else to call it, his immediate reaction to the tableau unfolding in front of him. The Council is here (the Wizards rising from their seats) and Lieutenant Colonel Gingetsu is… He's about Gingetsu's height and weight, just as strong (they've sparred before) and those similar advantages he uses now, wresting the other man back. Gingetsu's sheathed sword is in his left hand. Kazuhiko pins his arm to his side and grabs the other, disallowing the weapon's unsheathing.
Years of training, of battlefield experience overriding initial astonishment.
Death in the Council chamber, imminent if he doesn't do this. Many deaths, including one he doesn't want to witness. One he's desperately preventing now.
The one whose death he's preventing struggles, tries to surge forward, sword still in hand. Kazuhiko yanks Gingetsu back, using all his strength. Silent madness, this. What was Gingetsu thinking, storming the Council building? Did he have a death wish?
The Wizards, wizened and dangerous, stand on the dais by their seats, observant. Their power, currently contained, is palpable – at the brim, capable of overflowing. Kazuhiko shivers. It's so easy to die here. His focus turns to Kou and Shuu – Gingetsu's commanding Wizard – and he sees disapproval, anger, and…disappointment? Shuu starts to form a gesture, which is abruptly stopped by Kou. The two Wizards, an old man and an old woman, face each other with challenging gazes. It's Shuu who relents, who nods and looks away. Kou's attention slews to Gingetsu, her expression impossible to read. To place.
The other Wizards are more transparent, expressions obvious. This is treason, punishable by death. And this is their trusted Lieutenant Colonel here, intent on bodily harm!
Kazuhiko does not pretend to understand. He only knows Ran died not too long ago and Gingetsu is…well, whatever he is now. Unstable? Grieving? Mad? All of them?
"Gingetsu," he hisses, loud enough to be heard by all in the chamber. "Stop this!"
"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel." Kou, whose gaze pierces Gingetsu, is the one who speaks. "I would listen to him, for once." The old woman leaves the dais, stepping down to where they stand. "What is the meaning of this?"
His former commander stills. It's eerie. Gingetsu has not said a word since entering.
"Kou," Shuu says, his voice like aged parchment from obsolete scrolls. "We need not draw this out. There's an immediate solution."
"No." Kou's tone is resolute. "This isn't something he would've done…normally."
This isn't an action Kazuhiko could've ever foreseen Gingetsu doing on any given day. It doesn't make sense! This is more like something he would've done, if he was being idiotic and suicidal. Even then…! Although Gingetsu's struggles have ceased, Kazuhiko grips his arms tightly, an extra precaution. Too much has happened here too fast and he knows the situation can change again, if he's distracted or unprepared.
He marks Gingetsu's visored gaze meeting Wizard Kou's, both unreadable.
Something is terribly wrong. He doesn't know what, besides the obvious.
"Lieutenant Colonel Gingetsu," Kou states, her words precise and clear. "Explain yourself. Omit nothing."
Kazuhiko feels the other man stiffen. A command has been issued and a good loyal (questionable now) soldier obeys. After a few tense seconds, Gingetsu bows his head. Acquiesces in a voice Kazuhiko can barely hear.
"I have nothing left. I wish to die."
Nothing left? If they weren't in the Council chamber, Kazuhiko has something to say about that. Instead, he remains silent.
"C died recently, has he not?"
"His name is Ran," Gingetsu states. No inflection whatsoever. It's frightening.
Silence descends upon the chamber, weighs heavy on everyone present and Kazuhiko feels the Wizards' power at the edge, threatening to spill over. Goosebumps on his arms, the nape of his neck prickles. He absolutely does not want to be here.
"And you wish to join him." Not a question. Kou is small (smaller within her cowl), but Kou wields immense power and authority. These are now used against Gingetsu, her words brief and final. "It is not permitted."
Gingetsu starts, trembling.
"This action you have chosen to undertake is indeed high treason, Lieutenant Colonel. The penalty is death after trial, but we believe no trial is necessary. This incident shall remain classified. We will provide another explanation publicly after these consequences you are about to receive." A weighted pause. "Effectively immediately, you are dishonorably discharged from the military. Your pension will be restored to the treasury for other purposes. Upon leaving this room, you are to return to civilian status. No execution will be granted, since it is what you seek."
Gingetsu stands very still, sword forgotten; the man doesn't respond or react.
For Kazuhiko, there's horror and unexpected grief, but Kou is not done yet.
"We are very disappointed, Gingetsu." No rank, no title. "We had the highest hopes for you. You were entrusted with national secrets, permitted in ways no one else has been given allowance for. Yet, you stand before us, guilty of lethal intent against the Council. It is not permitted, no matter what the reasons may be. Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu," Kou says, directing attention to him unasked for, "please remove Gingetsu from the premises and take him home. I believe it should not be difficult for you to achieve that."
He clears his throat. "No, Kou. It won't be." What else is he to say?
"Very good." The Wizard's gaze again on Gingetsu, judgment delivered. "You are thereby dismissed."
Everything afterwards passes in a blur. Somehow, he manages to get Gingetsu home. He does so before the news spreads, before Gingetsu's disgrace becomes public. The former commander is like stone, unresponsive. Kazuhiko has never been so scared.
Somehow, they make it back and it's only then that Gingetsu collapses, as if poleaxed, onto the tiled floor. His sword, still sheathed, clatters upon white-and-black – a mere object, useless.
News spreads quickly, Gingetsu's dismissal from the military of high importance, and Kazuhiko only ventures out when necessary. Shock has floored the former Lieutenant Colonel, left him inadequate to take care of himself – abed with fever – which leaves Kazuhiko to pick up the pieces. With the quick onset of illness, it became obvious Gingetsu had neglected his health in the days before his planned assault on the Council. Maintaining the house is hard work. Before, Ran was responsible (with Gingetsu constantly working overtime and on missions); however, the household has changed, a certain occupant no longer around.
It's a good thing he's been here before. Has a spare key. Is somewhat familiar with the place. He makes it his temporary home while Gingetsu recuperates.
He restocks the pantry (leaves the tea canisters alone in the kitchen), tries not to create messes of his own, and sometimes wonders why Gingetsu bought a house this large. At one point, Gingetsu had been the sole occupant. Now that would've driven him mad, Kazuhiko thinks, while deciding if the windows needed dusting. In the end, leaving it for another day, he gives himself a much needed breather.
Gingetsu isn't deliberately being difficult – the man's sick and heartbroken (a death seeker) – but it makes his job no less easy. Kazuhiko can only wield Gingetsu's sworn promise against him so many times before it loses effectiveness. Besides, the man had gone directly to the Council and almost gotten himself killed! What could he do in light of that recent incident?
He keeps the stressful news to himself. Makes Gingetsu eat and drink, or tries to.
It's exhausting. He's exhausted. He wonders how Ran did it and then chides himself, knowing Ran would've encountered no resistance while he was alive.
Gingetsu had always seemed so strong, unflappable in the face of insurmountable odds. Had turned the battlefield around in their favor again and again, saving lives. Been decorated, promoted, praised. A different life now – a tremendously hard fall.
Ran had died. Could not be saved.
Gingetsu had snapped. It's the only explanation Kazuhiko has for recent actions.
He sleeps uneasily, tormented by questions and uncertainty. What awaits him and the former commander in an unknown future.
Gingetsu is being difficult. Deliberately. A problem, since Gingetsu has reserves of patience and can hold out against him for however long this takes. The man is no longer ill, can move around, can eat and yet, he doesn't want to. Sleeps constantly or doesn't, especially at night. Frustrating and it's all Kazuhiko can do to not scold him, to yell at him as though he's a petulant child.
He's grieving. And so had he when Oruha died. When Suu died. What made this situation any different? What made Ran different, come to think of it?
He brings in water. Three days before a person dies of thirst and Gingetsu is not dying on his watch. He was the troublemaker in the military: hot-headed, impulsive, and annoyingly stubborn. These traits are now his weapons (tools) and he relies on the third one, setting it against Gingetsu's own. Because Gingetsu is stubborn, no matter what people say about him.
Kazuhiko stays in Gingetsu's bedroom, arms crossed, and waits for him to drink. The other man, visor on, stares at him. His own reflection frowns back. This is stupid. He feels stupid. Why is he even here? Because you care. He doesn't even live at his own apartment anymore. Has requested any physical packages to be forwarded here.
"Gingetsu," he says, his tone bleeding annoyance. "Drink."
The man just looks at him. The glass remains in his hand. "Later."
He was your superior at one point and he dealt with you. Come on, Kazuhiko. This is nothing. "Now. Please."
In the past, when Gingetsu disciplined him for minor infractions, Kazuhiko caved in due to well-placed silence and a stern frown (Gingetsu had, goddammit, mastered both). As a deputy officer, also in charge of subordinates, Kazuhiko had tried applying the same techniques to get similar results. He wasn't as experienced – perhaps not as stoic? – but sometimes succeeded.
He applies this now to Gingetsu. Gingetsu's brow rises, as though he knows.
He probably does, dammit.
It's a moment of mental tug-of-war between him and Gingetsu, iron willpower set against iron willpower. For a few seconds, Kazuhiko believes he'll lose, the other man refusing to drink yet again. It's a tiresome battle, nothing new.
He stands his ground. Resists the urge to repeat himself.
Gingetsu finally brings the glass to his lips. Drinks.
A victory? It is, yet it doesn't feel like one. Gingetsu had conceded, but only because he knew the ploy being played. Perhaps wants Kazuhiko off his back.
He still takes it, though. He doesn't have much choice.
"Call Kou."
"No." The man's impenetrable visored gaze fixes upon him. "The Council's decision is final. Besides," Gingetsu says, as if speaking of inconsequential matters, "I no longer have authorization or clearance. It's been revoked."
"You tried?"
"No."
His dinner done, Kazuhiko puts his fork down on his plate and leans back in his chair. When he left the military, Wizard Kou insisted on maintaining their communication, on the off chance she needed him again. For Gingetsu to lose all communication with the Council was extraordinarily severe. Then again, only one of them tried killing the Wizards.
"They gave you official notice?"
Gingetsu doesn't respond.
Kazuhiko frowns. "When did you find out?"
"Why does it matter?"
He doesn't like the answer, nor does he like the fact Gingetsu barely ate today. "I can call Kou –"
"Why?" Gingetsu's expression behind the visor hasn't changed, but his voice has. "You won't reverse their decision. You were there – you heard Kou. It's not your fight."
"It became my fight when I got involved," Kazuhiko retorts sharply. "It's still my fight, Gingetsu."
"It's not," the other man says quietly, rising to his feet. "It never was."
Kazuhiko bites back what he wants to say, unwilling to start an argument with his former commander. Gingetsu isn't argumentative to begin with and already, the other man has walked away. Perhaps to sleep or stare at the ceiling or think of better days. Sourly, Kazuhiko glances over the table, mentally preparing himself to clean up for the night.
Sometimes, he wishes everything could be easier.
Lack of structure, of activity. Back when Gingetsu was still with the military, when Ran was still alive (even before then), the former Lieutenant Colonel never had a day that wasn't full. If it wasn't paperwork, it was strategizing battle plans or figuring out logistics or being briefed and sent out on missions. Even on downtime, an emergency call could always come in.
The house is quiet. Too much so.
Kazuhiko dreads moments like this. He makes noise, moves around deliberately loud and clatters about in the kitchen. Dishes, utensils, cups — they all make sounds, being taken down from shelves or put away. Washing them brings in the liquid flow of running water. Sounds need to be made, because there are none otherwise.
Gingetsu has a radio. It now gathers dust. Before Ran died, it had seen frequent use.
Kazuhiko stops what he's doing and goes to check on Gingetsu. If only he had something to preoccupy his time with, like reading and analyzing reports. But those days are past and no one will entrust the man with state secrets now.
He finds a single door ajar in the same hallway where Gingetsu's room is located. Has never seen it open before. Glances through.
Gingetsu is there, standing straight, looking out a window. On the nightstand, there's a brass lamp. It looks familiar, but Kazuhiko can't pin down why he recognizes it.
A private moment. Obviously a private room. He doesn't belong here and at least Gingetsu is safe. Kazuhiko has nightmares sometimes of finding him dead, blood in a room, on the floor, and a discarded sheath by him.
He never discloses this to Gingetsu. Doesn't want to encourage him.
He goes away. The other man is safe. Is physically whole.
As for everything else, he can only watch and do what he can within his own limitations.
Time has flown by, mechanical wings on artificial wind. It's been a month and a half since Gingetsu's dismissal, soon approaching two. Kazuhiko wonders where the time has gone and why nothing has changed.
His former commander remains withdrawn, isolated to either his room or the room Kazuhiko now surmises is Ran's. Gingetsu is often there, locked in private grief. It's the one room Kazuhiko does not enter; it feels forbidden, a place only Gingetsu and Ran once knew.
He will not intrude upon another's memories.
Even so…
He pushes another piece of toast at Gingetsu and meets the reflective flat gaze of the man sitting across him. "Eat," he says, depositing it on Gingetsu's plate. "Don't make me break out the scale." Back in their military days, annual physicals were mandatory. Kazuhiko never liked them; he'd no idea what Gingetsu thought and had never asked. Still, the looming threat of being forcibly weighed can be a deterrent, right?
Gingetsu picks up the toast, crumbs on his fingers from the overdone corner. However, the man doesn't eat; instead, keeps that infuriatingly calm gaze on him. There were times before when Gingetsu was like this, quiet in the aftermath of a slew of questions. He'd take those days over this…this stalwart opposition.
He's not good at playing the long game.
"Goddammit, Gingetsu," he swears, frustration spilling over. "I told you —"
"The promise?" Gingetsu's wry tone twists like a knife in his gut. "You're going to enforce it? Instruct me? How?"
He curses again, because he's not sure how.
"You don't need to be here," the other man says, not unkindly and it's the worst thing to hear. "I didn't ask for this, Ryuu."
"Neither did I!" he snaps, surprised at the depth of his anger. Fear, too. Kazuhiko stands up and glares at the seated man across from him. "I sure as hell didn't ask to be there when you nearly bled out and died! But I stayed, didn't I?"
"Ryuu…" Gingetsu's tone is odd.
He's angry, almost violently so and it scares him. Kazuhiko turns away, has to leave now. Must. He doesn't speak anymore. Leaves Gingetsu sitting there, staring after him.
His fists are clenched. The Council chamber, the Wizards standing, power and authority and the threat of death charged in the air. He didn't have to follow Gingetsu inside months ago. Could've let him enter alone and die.
This wasn't any different.
Unappreciated. He feels this and resentment stirs. No. He chose to do this — to be here, making sure Gingetsu doesn't succeed in killing himself. He just cannot stand facing against the wall that's Gingetsu's will, as strong as his. Maybe stronger.
He goes outside. Lets his anger seep away, given time.
When he returns, Gingetsu is gone. Panicking, he checks and is relieved when he finds him in one of the rooms. He doesn't enter, however. Doesn't greet him or ask how he's doing.
Later that evening, he has regrets.
But doesn't everyone?
Loneliness.
He might as well be living in a cave by himself with only food and news to keep him company. The house is large, has checkerboard floors and elaborate windows, and is well-kept (he's doing most of the work); yet, there are only two of them and they hardly speak. Ever since his outburst, Gingetsu keeps his distance and retreats further from him. Kazuhiko leaves him food and drink, but can't force his compliance. He takes care of himself – a necessity – and routinely makes sure the other man's still breathing.
It's not just the sworn promise. It's more than that.
Kazuhiko has lost too many loved ones. Those he cared for. Numbers wise, it doesn't seem like much. Three people. And yet, because he knew them, they continue to matter. Oruha. Suu. Ran. He doesn't wish to add a fourth name to the list of the dead. Doesn't believe he can handle another loss.
He's not good at dealing with being left behind. At being the only one to mourn.
Gingetsu stays away, in a room meant only for the past. In another room Kazuhiko can enter, only to meet an empty gaze. It haunts him, what this forebodes.
Gingetsu had only suffered a single loss and Kazuhiko has watched the man slowly break in front of him, day by day, night by night, weeks into months.
There's an ache within him – impending grief.
Perhaps, he will think later, that is what drives him to what happens next.
The first night Kazuhiko goes to Gingetsu – who always lies awake now – he is aware of need, of want. Ever since Oruha died so many years ago, his bed has been cold. He's lonely and seeks solace. Seeks for something more than life in a large, yet empty house.
When he approaches and Gingetsu turns his gaze on him (vulnerable, the visor missing), the man asks him a question. Kazuhiko answers. There is silence for a few seconds before Gingetsu nods, the sparest of motions.
It is need and want and desperation to hold onto what could be lost – memories of his former commander hellbent on dying to join Ran – and it colors their coupling, which cannot be said to have been done in love. But when they break apart, Gingetsu's breaths slowing and his own heartbeat like a bird in his chest, Kazuhiko believes something has changed.
He leaves, of course. It's too soon and already, Gingetsu withdraws, to a place Kazuhiko can't follow.
This small incident was only meant to stave off pain, fear, and loneliness. After a few more nights – always him seeking out the stoic commander – it's part of Kazuhiko's nightly routine. He tries to give instead of take sometimes (Gingetsu doesn't care what he does) and always, emptiness follows afterward.
It only goes away when one night, three months later, Gingetsu appears at his door, silent and seeking comfort. Kazuhiko welcomes him – welcomes the change in their routine – and offers what he can to the still grieving man. It isn't enough, but what is?
This continues for a few weeks until one night, afterwards, Gingetsu speaks. His voice is soft and raspy, for the former soldier never speaks much anymore. "What's to become of us?"
Kazuhiko hasn't thought beyond the immediate, the urgency to keep Gingetsu here. "I don't know."
A sound. Not quite a laugh. "We can't keep doing this, Ryuu."
He doesn't say anything, gathering up his thoughts. Gingetsu has a point – this physicality is merely holding off the end – but to let go is frightening. If they stop, what will happen to them? Will the other man leave or die? Will he go mad from loss? He almost did, once.
"Two men in a cold bed." Gingetsu has always been laconic, and recently, what words he does say are weighted with melancholy. "We can't replace them."
"I never meant to," Kazuhiko says, looking at Gingetsu's pale profile in the dark. "I know we can't."
"They are the lucky ones."
Those left behind always suffer the absence, the remembrance of what was. He understands from the experience of two losses, separated a few years apart. It never gets easier. "He wouldn't want to see you like this, you know." Said gently, since Ran's death is more immediate, without the elapse of years to buffer pain.
Gingetsu shakes his head, a slight movement. "Don't, Ryuu."
The lucky ones. "Were you trying to be like them? Leave me behind while the rest of you die?" It'd been a near thing, the former commander cutting through the crowd towards the Parliamentary Council, seeking death via the Wizards.
The other man stands and leaves the bed, heading for the door. He's touched too close to Gingetsu's buried agony and there must be truth there, for Gingetsu would've left him behind if his suicidal plan had worked.
"It wasn't just Ran," Gingetsu speaks into the darkness and then he is gone, the door left ajar. An answer, although not the one expected.
Had the other man also mourned the previous deaths with him? And he all unknowing?
Toast. Coffee. No tea.
The tea canisters in the kitchen remain untouched, left as they were since Ran died nearly half a year ago. Kazuhiko knows not to serve them to Gingetsu, who treats these last belongings of Ran's as nearly sacrosanct. He also does not partake of them, for they are not his and all the memories belong to his former commander. There's also a drawer of clothes that Gingetsu leaves locked and again, Kazuhiko does not intrude upon it.
Some things he's never meant to know.
Toast, sometimes buttered. Coffee, always black. Once in a while, he adds an egg.
Their breakfasts are sparse – Gingetsu never ate much before, even when still working in the military – and Kazuhiko doesn't mind a lighter start. He observes the other man finishing the contents of his plate, absentmindedly drinking his coffee and wonders if there's any way forward from here.
He himself is only a stopgap, a friend bridging pain, and Gingetsu's statement from that night before is a sharp reminder of this. Living here, making sure the other man continues to survive is…a bleak existence. For both of them.
He glances from his coffee cup to Gingetsu, whose eyes are uncovered. He looks different without the visor on – younger, gaze startlingly blue – although short hair has grown longer, somewhat masking features. Kazuhiko tries to read him, finds his friend inscrutable. It's an odd sensation.
He puts his cup down, a small sound as it meets the table. "Gingetsu," he says, quietly.
Gingetsu looks at him, face neutral. "Ryuu. What is it?"
"About that night," he says and then stops. "Do you remember what you said?"
"Yes." Silence. "About how we can't keep doing this."
Kazuhiko nods. "What happens, then?"
"You move on. Find a girl, start a family. Make something of your life."
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"What happens to you?" He's afraid of the answer, but he must ask. It's important – he needs to know.
Across from him, Gingetsu gives a barely perceptible shrug. "Stay in this house. Wait until I go mad. Or until I die, whichever's first. You'll be gone by then, so it won't matter. Does that suffice, Ryuu?"
"Gin –"
"There's no need for you to tie your life to mine." Even speaking softly, voice calm, Gingetsu has command. "There's nothing for you here."
"There is."
"Me?" Gingetsu looks at him with…pity? "I was your commander. Before I threw it all away. Staying here won't benefit you. You can leave, find employment elsewhere. Maybe someone more forgiving."
"I don't want to do that."
"So what are your options, Ryuu?" His friend's gaze is disconcerting. "Chain yourself to this house, to this silence, to a life that should've been gone? For months? Years? Until one of us passes? And then what?"
"Then at least you're not alone."
"But I can't die first." Gingetsu's voice has gone still. "I'll be alone afterwards, won't I?" Irony and the harsh ring of truth behind it.
"I don't intend to die before you," Kazuhiko says, stung. "That's not an option."
"Then the promise is moot."
He stares at Gingetsu, unsure what to say. How to proceed.
The other man rises, takes his plate and cup, and heads towards the kitchen door. Despite everything Kazuhiko tries to do – is doing – Gingetsu has lost weight. A life that should've been gone. He prevented that and now, Gingetsu is a mere shadow moving around empty spaces.
His heart hurts.
The door opens. Closes.
Gingetsu doesn't sleep tonight; yet, it's nothing new. Kazuhiko finds him by the large windows looking out into the city and stays back. Stays silent and says nothing. He's found him like this before – other sleepless nights – and always remains invisible to the other man.
It feels as though he's walked into a private moment. He doesn't understand because he doesn't ask; if Gingetsu had known he was always here, the other man never explains.
It's not for him to know.
Kazuhiko has never seen him cry. Not after Ran died, not when he stormed the Council chamber and was denied his death, and not now, months later. His friend remains stoic – troubled in ways too subtle to see – and it disturbs Kazuhiko if he thinks too deeply on it.
He can't help but think.
After some time – he's not sure how long – Gingetsu leaves the windows, a soft tread back to his room and closes the door. There is barely a sound, not even the click of a lock. The entire house lapses back into emptiness (although he's here, hidden in the shadows) and the lights outside the windows are dim.
Kazuhiko steps forward, towards those lights and looks outside.
The city sleeps. They do not.
He doesn't stay there very long – returns shortly, in fact, to his own room. Keeps the door ajar, just in case. Falls asleep, straight through until morning.
No nighttime visits in the dark.
He calls Kou one day, seeks help, while Gingetsu remains abed. The former Lieutenant Colonel is known for perseverance and stubborn determination in the face of overwhelming odds; while helpful on a battlefield, it's aggravating and worrisome for Kazuhiko in their current situation.
If Gingetsu is determined to push him away, then Kazuhiko is determined to stick around. Make sure the other man doesn't wither away, as it seems he wants to do.
But he has very few options to work with and forcing Gingetsu will backfire.
Hence, his desperation, turning to Wizard Kou. He still has a direct line to her, while Gingetsu's privileges were revoked. He calls her up. Hopes she's available.
She is, display immediately on the inner glass surface of his round lenses. "Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu. It has been a while."
"Yes," he says, studying the wizened woman on the screen. "I have a situation. Need your help, if you allow it."
"Is it regarding the former Lieutenant Colonel?"
He doesn't know how she knows (or guesses), but it removes the need for him to baldly state the fact. "Yes. It's been…rough. He's getting worse."
"After his attempt on the Council, I suspected such. We did not execute him because of previous loyalty, but also because it defeats the purpose of punishment. True punishment for someone seeking death is to grant them life. And live he shall, we suppose. In light of the savings he accumulated within the last two years, he will have no lack of want or necessity."
"That's the problem." Kazuhiko looks over his shoulder and makes sure Gingetsu isn't around. "We have plenty, but he doesn't want it. I've tried – he's not receptive."
"The boy's death, still?" Kou asks gently, as if understanding the gravity behind all this.
"Yes."
"Your presence might be hindering his grief."
"How?" He is genuinely puzzled, having never considered this angle before. He's helping Gingetsu, right? How is he being a hindrance?
The old woman pauses on the screen and then looks at him with great compassion. "Gingetsu is not the type to trust easily or love. By allowing himself to do so, he has made himself vulnerable. The boy was his ward, and yet, he made something new of that circumstance. I fear with the boy's death, there are problems anew for which there are no easy solutions."
"And my attempts to help him are exacerbating them?"
"How are you helping, Kazuhiko, if I may ask?" Kou says over the screen, tilting her head slightly.
"Getting him to eat. Making sure he's not lonely." There's also the nighttime visits or were. "Physical companionship," he adds, putting it politely. "He's still losing weight. Doesn't want me to stay around."
"Did he say why?"
"Thinks I'm wasting my life here. Being with him."
Kou doesn't respond for a few seconds, looking like she's ruminating over what he disclosed. He finds he's anxious, palms sweaty. He wipes them dry on his shirt.
"What I am about to mention to you is of the utmost secrecy. If you wish, you may discuss it with Gingetsu. No one else may know, however. Is that clear, Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu?"
His throat is tight. "Yes. What is it?"
"What do you know of the Clover Leaf Project? Did Suu ever mention it to you?"
A pang — her name brings back memories. Suu wasn't like Oruha and he didn't see her as such, but in the time he knew her, he'd also been inexplicably changed. It still hurts, even now. He closes his eyes briefly and nods. "She said she was part of it. A Four-Leaf Clover, always alone."
"Yes. She sought to be free of it."
The lucky ones. "She said she was the only one."
"She was," Kou says sadly, looking momentarily regretful. "Did she mention anything else?"
He thinks, because it was a while ago. "She said…there were others."
"Yes. She was the only Four-Leaf, but there were others of lesser power."
"What happened to them? Are they still here?"
Kou's face lightens, although he senses the seriousness of the moment hasn't passed. "Yes. Some still live. The ones who've survived."
"Can I…if I'm allowed to know?"
"There are four classes of Clovers. One-Leaf, Two-Leaf, and Three-Leaf." No need to mention the Four-Leaf, already discussed. Kou pauses for a second on his screen and then continues. "The One-Leaf knows only the date of their death. The Two-Leaf has abilities beyond the average person's in technological matters. The Three-Leaf even more so, whose psychic abilities are more powerful than the previous two."
Suu, he's already seen. What she was capable of.
"Kou," he asks quietly, "how will this help me with Gingetsu?"
"You asked if any of the other Clovers are still here. I confirmed that some still live."
It doesn't take much to read between the lines, realization striking and sending him reeling. Instinctively, Kazuhiko glances behind him. Gingetsu isn't here. He directs his wild gaze back, stares at Kou on the screen. Makes a helpless gesture. "He is…?"
"A Two-Leaf."
Kazuhiko makes a small disbelieving sound.
"There are others like him, but not many are qualified for the military or state employment. Most live normal lives, try not to stand out. Some suppress their abilities in order to do so."
"And Gingetsu?" he asks, helplessly, trying to comprehend the full meaning of this revelation.
"He used it in the service of home and country." Kou's gaze carries weight, as though her words are laden. "It must be second nature for you by now, but there's a reason why the former Lieutenant Colonel never needs weapon modules."
"He…" An image in mind, a sword in midair.
"A Two-Leaf can bring forth any desired object, as long as their ability can construct it. They're limited, of course, but practice helps them work around it. Gingetsu has had years to master it and make it work for him."
"How long was he with the project?"
"He was seven when his parents brought him in."
A memory arises, Suu's voice behind it. "Suu told me her mother collected the fee and never looked back." He remembers being sad, hearing that. A child abandoned, left in the care of strangers and scientists. "Was it like that for him, too?"
"It was like that for many of them."
An answer, indirectly addressing the question asked. It answers many things, in fact, about his former commander. His friend. A Two-Leaf Clover. It's hard to reconcile all these truths at once and yet…Gingetsu remains the same. Kazuhiko recalls the first time he met Gingetsu – the so-called cold and capable Lieutenant Colonel – and how long it took before Gingetsu opened up to him. Broken trust, a child essentially sold – rejected.
His silence speaks for him, as he considers what Kou told him.
"And the others?" he finally asks, because there's so much more than just Gingetsu involved in this. He somehow knows it — a gut instinct.
"There used to be three Three-Leaf Clovers. Triplets and incredibly powerful. There's only one now."
"Why?"
Kou blinks, an automatic reflex and not a reaction. "One of them was murdered by a sibling. That sibling still lives. The other died a few months back. It grieves and angers the one still living. We are monitoring that child, to prevent further catastrophe."
"Did they have names?"
"We called them A, B, and C." Kou stops and gives a slight shake of her head. "I know. Clinical. More labels than names. A still lives. B and C are dead. You knew C, I believe."
The other died a few months back. He remembers that day when Gingetsu stood before the Council and was sentenced. What Gingetsu had said regarding C. His heart beats. "Gingetsu's boy."
"Yes."
Ran, the techno-genius and Gingetsu's late partner was…a Three-Leaf. A Two-Leaf and a Three-Leaf. He had been surrounded by Clovers all this time and he'd never known. They appeared normal, like him. He had also known Suu. A curse or a blessing (or both), depending on how he decides to perceive it.
And with this awareness, he realizes something else and his heart almost stops. It can't be, is his thought, but everything seems bent in this particular direction and knowing three distinct classes of Clovers personally can't be coincidence.
Perhaps, he is fated to this. And so are they — the ones he knows.
"Was Oruha one?" Pain behind this question. Even now, so many years later.
"Yes," Kou replies gently. "She was a One-Leaf."
"A One-Leaf'," he repeats, Kou's mention of their ability returning to him. "She knew she was going to die? And when?" His voice breaks on the last, tears threatening to release.
"She did. You did not know, correct? She never told you?"
"No."
"Perhaps she wanted to spare you from the foreknowledge. Clovers can be selfless, understanding their impact on others."
Tears in his eyes. "So she died without telling me. To spare me."
"Gingetsu was made aware of C's limited years upon making him his ward. And yet, knowing that hasn't stopped him from breaking, has it?" The old woman is unwontedly gentle, seeing his hurt. "Without structure, without goals, without the one he loved, he is very much adrift. That is a difficult wound to staunch, Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu."
As though he's on a mission. In a way, isn't he? "I understand that much."
"Speak to him. About who he is. Maybe, you can reach him this way."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then you've tried and there's no guilt or shame attached to that."
"Kou," he says, shoring up his emotions and keeping them at bay, so he can continue. "Was Gingetsu ever lonely? Since he was seven?" Since his friend's parents left him behind, moved on with their lives, and a lost seven-year-old boy navigated a world with powerful abilities and no one to turn to.
"I would imagine so. It is difficult to completely sequester yourself from the world and human contact, even if you try."
What Gingetsu has done, withdrawing from him. What Kazuhiko wants to prevent, despite his own pain. His own loss. Oruha. He draws a shaky breath and accepts the chance Kou has given him. He's already lost so much – doesn't want to lose any more. "Thank you," he says, genuinely grateful. "For this."
"He may be afraid," Kou warns. "Be careful in your approach."
He nods. It is a mission. It's one he can't afford to take lightly, not like in the past.
"May you be successful," Kou says and if it wasn't obvious this particular Wizard in the Council has a soft spot for the Clovers, this sentiment confirms it. "I wish both of you happiness, Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu."
Happiness. Suu had looked for happiness. Had found it in death – the ultimate escape.
It's a dismissal. He nods and Kou signs off.
Kazuhiko waits until the next evening to approach Gingetsu. He needs time to himself first to process the information – Oruha, Ran, Gingetsu (everyone close he's known) – and doing so requires distance. Gingetsu seems uncaring, but from past experience, Kazuhiko knows he misses nothing. Changes in body language, in voice and tone, all the subtleties a former soldier should know.
The day passes slowly, rain outside and the world gray. The house is quiet, its spaces large and unoccupied, and there never is much to do. Kazuhiko prefers to while away the time checking the news and exercising, keeping mind and body in shape. Today, they serve as distractions – buffers from the onslaught of shock, of his world changed – which he welcomes. He's not sure how to deal with the fact that he knows all four classes of Clovers. One was a lover, perhaps someone he wanted to marry. One was a young girl who found in him a friend and only wanted to be free. One found shelter here, was loved, but went from boy to youth to old man and then gone. And one…
One was the only person left – once a professional acquaintance, then a friend, and now? Still a friend, but someone he cannot watch slip away. To see die like the others while he remains behind, heartbroken.
He can't.
And so, that night, he knocks on Gingetsu's door.
Nothing at first – perhaps, the other man is asleep – but then he clearly hears "Come in." Does so, the door handle cold in his fingers and he walks into the dark bedroom. Closes the door. There's a small desk with a lamp and a chair here. Kazuhiko turns on the lamp, a soft glow, and pulls out the chair. Sits. It's not a night for physical comfort or need; instead, a night to face hard truths and shared, if not equal, pain.
One look at Gingetsu and the shadows under his eyes and he can tell the other man hasn't slept. The bedspread is unrumpled; the pillow has no indent. It's as though the room is uninhabited, despite the obvious flesh-and-blood person sitting across from him. A living ghost among actual ghosts. A terrible thought, one Kazuhiko quickly banishes.
Gingetsu looks at him, quietly expectant.
He clears his throat. Notices how the other man tenses at this. "I spoke to Kou yesterday," he says, deciding to broach the issue this way. "Had some things to ask her."
"What about?"
Gingetsu's tone gives away he likely knows the answer, but is waiting to hear it directly from Kazuhiko. It's intimidating, which Kazuhiko doesn't deny. The former Lieutenant Colonel was and still is like that. "About you," he answers truthfully. "About your current dilemma."
"There is no dilemma."
Only a fool wouldn't expect resistance. "Gingetsu," he starts, constructing his words carefully, phrasing them delicately, "did you always know? About the others?" He doesn't mention anything about Gingetsu being a Two-Leaf. It's too soon – too startling to drop right now, possibly scaring off the other man. It's difficult to imagine Gingetsu afraid; yet, Kou had said he likely was.
"The others?"
A ploy to delay, to divert. "Oruha. Suu." He hesitates, aware of lingering pain undealt with. "Ran. About who they were."
"What are you getting at, Ryuu?" Tiredness and dogged determination in Gingetsu's voice. No fear. Not yet.
"Kou told me about the Clover Leaf Project. Gingetsu, I know." He leaves it there and observes his former commander. Gingetsu isn't easily startled – he's only seen it twice during his entire military career – but because he's watching closely, he notices the widening eyes and flared nostrils. The sudden clench of bedspread in one bloodless hand. The most telling, of course, is Gingetsu's dead silence.
"You were never going to tell me, were you?"
His voice falls into the silence like a small stone descending, sounds fading after a while. No accusation, no blame. He knows. The Clovers carried their secret to the grave, their own private misery.
"What good would that have done?" Gingetsu's gaze is unwavering, unsettling by how direct it is. "What would you have done with the knowledge?"
"It's better not to suffer alone," he says and sees it strike home.
"Have you ever been feared, Ryuu? For who you are?" There's no mistaking Gingetsu's tone now or the subject he's steered them towards. Bitterness in his voice, unheard of. "If you haven't, that tired aphorism means nothing." A pause. "If you had known what we were…"
That I would've been afraid of them – of him – as well? It's a brutal thought, since he knew – knows – them. He stays seated, watches Gingetsu and realizes Kou's right. There's fear here and it's not only from him.
Tread carefully.
"Suu told me her mother left her behind," he divulges, trying another angle. "She received the fee and gave Suu over to the project."
"We were no longer children. Anomalies."
Kazuhiko winces at Gingetsu's deadened tone. Hurt tightly guarded. Fear under lock and key. Was it like that for all of them? For Oruha and Ran, too? He sees his friend's drawn face and understands, if only, a small portion of that pain.
"I'm sorry," he says, because what else is there to say regarding this injustice?
"We grew up – those of us that lived. Some of us died. And some of us still live, defying the odds." It's hard to read Gingetsu's expression, his gaze abstract. "You were only a child, then. There's nothing for you to apologize for."
Deflection. "I wouldn't have been afraid of you." At least he hopes that would've been the case. He can't see himself terrified (hating?) just because someone was different from him, had abilities he didn't. His personality doesn't allow for that, surely?
Barus is a different matter. Another story entirely with its own history.
A tired sound from Gingetsu. "You would've been. They all were."
His parents were. Gave him away for a fee and never looked back. Never returned. "What happened to you?" It can mean so many things, this question. It all depends on how Gingetsu construes it.
"Ward of the state."
Which says it all, really. Kazuhiko's heart twists, feels Gingetsu's long-time hurt. "The military?"
"I took a test, after all the others they made me take." The other man goes still for a moment, as though caught in bitter remembrance. "Turns out I had aptitude for the army. I was accepted, but didn't become a soldier until fifteen. I was considered fortunate, having this choice."
"The others didn't?"
"Not everyone excelled. Or survived the tests." Gingetsu's desolate gaze is haunting. "It could've been worse, though. Could've been a Three-Leaf or a Four-Leaf. No chance for any life, then. Not outside."
Ran was a Three-Leaf and a recollection returns, of a discussion he'd had with Gingetsu years ago when the boy was still alive. Ran, for whatever reason, couldn't leave the house. Kazuhiko had been curious, but didn't want to pry. Now, years later, he knows and it's too late. The main source of Gingetsu's agony – not the core, no, but important – and it's imperative he reaches through on this. Gives Gingetsu hope in the grieving, which he knows can last forever.
"Kou told me about Ran." He doesn't flinch saying this, nor does he look away. "How he used to be called C and you took him in as a ward." He smiles, attempts to change the mood, if only a little. "And there I was, saying you were into little kids."
Gingetsu doesn't return his smile. "What else did Kou tell you?"
"That his life span became limited the moment he stayed with you." From boy to youth to old man. When he reflects back, Kazuhiko realizes how short the time was. "And that you knew this upon taking responsibility for him. That he wouldn't live long."
Across from him, sleep-deprived and pale, Gingetsu closes his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Kazuhiko says again and means it.
"He would've lived long in the cage." The words are whispers and Gingetsu speaks them as though he's not there. "I was going to return him – it was the appropriate action – but he looked lost and…" A longer silence this time, one not to be disturbed. It lingers in the cold small room. "He saw the lights and…he said they weren't for him."
"Lights?"
"The ones outside." Nothing more than that, Gingetsu's voice almost inaudible.
It all becomes clear, then, to Kazuhiko about the why of Gingetsu's nighttime ritual. The large windows looking out into the city, the lights enticing.
But not for Ran. Not for the boy who used to be C. He was free and yet, he was not.
The lights were never for him.
"Are they for you?" he asks. A strange question, but somehow relevant to Gingetsu's current circumstances.
The other man gives him a pained ghost of a smile. It sits strangely on his face, a face that usually never reveals anything. A disconcertingly blue gaze, dimmer in this faint light. "Am I freer, you mean? I suppose this is what it's like, being in a cage."
The lights aren't for him, either.
Kazuhiko, on impulse (or instinct), gets up and touches Gingetsu's shoulder. It's a hunch – he works on those, relies on them – and he feels the fragility of the moment here. Of his former commander, whose life has changed irrevocably. Whose usual barriers are gone, having been stripped away.
He touches him and Gingetsu doesn't flinch. "You can always leave."
"Can I?"
It is then that Kazuhiko also understands what Kou meant about being a hindrance. About letting Gingetsu grieve without his panicked interference. He's also afraid – still is – yet, it's not all about him, is it? He squeezes Gingetsu's shoulder, the gentlest pressure and keeps his hand there. Warmth against cold, for the other man is like ice through his shirt. Gingetsu doesn't seem to feel it, though. As if he feels nothing.
Kazuhiko is afraid.
He looks down, at pale hair and face, and lightens his tone. Tries. "There's no cages for Two-Leafs, are there?"
Nothing at first. And then, a sound breaks. Small, quiet, restrained. It continues for a few seconds like this before it shatters, a torrent.
He's here, though, a bulwark against pain. He holds the other man against him, lets him weep (a dam breaking, finally) and he stays. Kazuhiko stays until Gingetsu quiets down, until exhaustion and emotional release claim him and Gingetsu sleeps. Kazuhiko does not leave. He sleeps beside Gingetsu, so that he's not alone.
The lamp stays on, a solitary light for them here.
There is no cage for a Two-Leaf.
He learns more over the next few days when Gingetsu is ready to share. It takes time, of course. Healing always does and so does trust. It comes as no surprise when Gingetsu retreats at first – like he had, upon learning so much – hesitant and perhaps, afraid. Kazuhiko leaves him alone (gives him space) and does not insist. Perhaps there is shame, too, as part of that withdrawal.
He understands. Preoccupies himself with other tasks. The house can't maintain itself.
It's over a small meal, daylight outside, when Gingetsu reopens the subject. Composure regained, his friend brings up certain aspects Kazuhiko had no awareness about. Clovers were tiered according to power; the higher ones automatically recognized the lower ones. He'd been aware of Oruha, Ran had been aware of them both, and Suu had been aware of all of them. But Oruha hadn't known who he was; he'd only known Ran because Shuu had briefed him, and Ran had suspected Suu only halfway through Kazuhiko's mission. Gingetsu himself had been there when Suu died in Fairy Park. He'd missed Oruha's birthday, because he'd known what she was. Had a feeling something untoward would happen.
Gingetsu says this, unblinking. Apologizes for the last – for not giving Kazuhiko fair warning. He'd thought it better Kazuhiko didn't know; that Kazuhiko and Oruha remain happy for the time they had. Perhaps he was wrong, but it was difficult to tell back then. As a Two-Leaf, he didn't believe he had the right to interfere. Says this quietly, hands still on the table, drink cooling.
It's a lot to take in. Kazuhiko drinks his coffee, decides if he should feel betrayed by the revelation. More revelations coming late.
Even if he'd known, could he have prevented Oruha's death? Taken her away? Would she still die, sniped down in a transportation hub? And him? Leave her to spare himself pain? Could he do that? He doesn't believe so – he's not that kind of man. Would not abandon Oruha to her death alone. It was better, despite his pain (being left behind), that he was there at the end, listening to her last song.
There's no need for apologies, he tells Gingetsu. His friend only did what he knew best years ago. Sees a weight lift off Gingetsu, if ever so subtly. The secrets the Two-Leaf carried. The secrets enshrouded by the Clover Leaf Project.
With Oruha brought up, Kazuhiko thinks about Ran. How there were no secrets between the two – the former commander and the young-old ward. They knew the end, had no illusions about Ran's death. Oruha had known when she would die. It was, in retrospect, impossible to judge them for the decisions they'd made. Facing death with grace. Living day after day, expectant of what awaited them.
He finishes his coffee. Reaches for a pastry he'd bought this morning in the market. Shares a bit of news with Gingetsu, whose expression has defaulted to stoic.
Gingetsu asks him a few questions. Kazuhiko shrugs, unknowing, since the news constantly changes. The pastry is good, has jam in it.
Outside, the light is clear and bright. Sunshine through clouds.
They finish their meal. Gingetsu is heading out – a rarity (a change) – and Kazuhiko smiles. They part ways, each to their tasks.
He may go outside later himself. The day beckons, refreshing.
He should be surprised, but he isn't. Wizard Kou of the Council calls him a few days later (conveniently, when Gingetsu is out) to check on their current situation. He quickly apprises her of the changed circumstances – Gingetsu has been seen outside (a disgraced former soldier, but one people dared not confront) – and of what Gingetsu has told him. It wouldn't be a secret to Kou.
"If you had only been this agreeable in the past," Kou tells him, amused. "Your mission reports would've commended you."
"And less court martials," he says wryly.
"Six, Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu. Not a record anyone wants to beat, although your name is notorious as warning to the incoming privates."
He makes a face. Kou laughs on his screen.
"I would like Gingetsu to meet the Council five days from now," the old woman says, tone crisp and succinct. "There is an old matter between us that needs to be resolved."
"Old matter?"
"I'll leave him to tell you after he returns, if he chooses to do so."
Another secret. So many. He nods and doesn't press further. At least it doesn't sound like punishment. "Return" is optimistic, in light of what occurred half a year ago.
"You are aware of what he does on these outings?" Kou asks. There's no alarm in her voice, though, which bodes well.
Kazuhiko nods again. "Old movies. Old music. Antique shops." He never imagined Gingetsu to be a man clinging to nostalgia. "Sometimes, he brings something home."
"He did lose his childhood," Kou says, a gentle fact stated.
He thinks about that one particular lamp in Ran's room. Brass with wings and glass. It is probably patinated by now, a relic in a sacred place. It explains Gingetsu's taste for the antique, for the unique.
"I guess I can deal with the house turning into an antiques shop," he says drolly. It makes Kou laugh, which makes him smile.
"Tell him to report at 1300 hours, five days hence." A command to be relayed later. "He has nothing to fear."
From the Wizards. From the Council.
"I'll tell him," Kazuhiko replies, like a subordinate to a superior. "Thank you."
"You really have changed, Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu. But so did Gingetsu, when he met you."
He ponders on this, even when the call ends. Even when Gingetsu returns, bringing an old ship's compass, glass foggy and needle broken. He tells Gingetsu Kou's order.
They share a bed together, seeking company, when Kazuhiko learns the last secret. Gingetsu, reticent that day upon returning from the Council, had found shelter in music. The radio, silent for so long, once again played classics (tunes from ages past). Kazuhiko cleans the house, waters the few thriving plants, and prepares their food to these tunes. Gingetsu is again at the large windows, looking out.
Kazuhiko leaves him there and wonders.
He stops wondering that night when Gingetsu reveals what occurred at 1300 hours earlier. The man's hesitant, confused, and when he finally speaks, it stirs a memory Kazuhiko had long forgotten until now.
"Kou, Shuu…" Gingetsu trails off, a significant pause, as though finding words. "The kill device is gone."
"What kill device?" This is the first time Kazuhiko has ever heard of it. How did it apply to Gingetsu?
Gingetsu raises a hand and touches fingers to his right temple. His hair shines silver in the lamplight. "When I took in Ran, we became a possible threat to the Council. Two Clovers of our strength united could result in mutiny, if we decided to challenge the authorities. The Council decided not to take that risk. Measures were immediately implemented."
"Such as?"
"I suggested a kill device be implanted in me, to thwart that possibility. Shuu wanted the procedure done immediately, the location chosen for maximum lethality."
"Your brain?"
"The head. There's no regeneration or comeback from that." Gingetsu is calm, eerily so, stating this. "The Council has the trigger. Could pull it at any time. I would've died on the spot."
Suu pointing at her head, talking about his friend. Kazuhiko had called Gingetsu an old military acquaintance that time and denied they were friends. Something in his head. He'd been oblivious to what she meant, not understanding. Not knowing. He looks at Gingetsu now, realizing what the other man had done years ago. "A bomb. In your head. The Council could've…" He stops, another awareness hitting late. "They could've killed you that day!"
"That was what I wished, yes."
It would've been so easy. If he hadn't followed his hunch, been observing Gingetsu in the days after Ran's demise, stopped him from drawing sword on the Wizards… "Gingetsu," he says, a slight shiver going through him. "You –"
"Would've broken my promise. It didn't seem worth it at the time, Ryuu."
So close. It would've shattered him, Kazuhiko thinks. It would've.
"And now it's gone."
"They've removed it," Gingetsu says, revealing the hairline scar at his temple. "Kou insisted. Overrode the others, including Shuu."
"And now?"
"I'm free, I suppose."
No more threat of imminent death. No active triggers to be pulled. He sighs in relief and holds Gingetsu close. "At least one of your kind survived."
"There are other One-Leafs, Ryuu." The other man looks at him in what Kazuhiko reads as exasperation. "And Two-Leafs. I'm not the only one."
"Well, you're the only one I know. And I'm glad you stuck around."
Silence for a moment, the comfortable type that doesn't make Kazuhiko nervous. He's had enough of those for the last few months. By impulse (it is that this time), he reaches out for Gingetsu's left wrist, turning it over to reveal the tattoo. Suu had one as well, he remembers. The designs are different, though. "You need to maintain this?"
Gingetsu shakes his head. "It grows with us. Remains clear."
There's a leaf imprint on his palm, too. The one Kou gave him years ago when he was forced to accept the mission involving Suu. It has never faded or disappeared. He lays his hand open next to Gingetsu's, both leaves green in steady lamplight. "Hey, you think this means I've joined the club?"
For a brief second, Gingetsu gives him what Kazuhiko can only call a scandalized look. "The club? Ryuu, really?"
"Who else has a leaf on their palm? Like this?"
"Only you would –"
"Yes, I know. Kou would've said the same." Wizard Kou, one of many in the stuffy Council, has made all this possible. Gingetsu being alive. Gingetsu free of past baggage, literal and figurative. He has a lot to be grateful for. "It's why I had six court martials."
"An embarrassment, Ryuu."
"Ha! She implied as much," he says casually.
Gingetsu shakes his head the second time, but it's not like he can counter, having been dishonorably discharged from the military. Past history, however – both his six court martials and Gingetsu's forced return to civilian life. They can begin anew. Their losses remain – cannot be forgotten (will never be) – along with the trauma experienced (recovering from, still); yet, they have nothing holding them back now.
None.
The ship's compass in the living room, the glass clean and needle restored. It points north, as it should. A true direction.
"Hey, have you ever thought of going abroad?"
Comments: I came back to Clover recently, having reread some old fanfics of mine and getting intrigued again in the process. Having purchased the hardcover English omnibus, I did a reread (the new translation was interesting in places) and discovered my interpretation of certain scenes and characters have changed since I last wrote fic for the fandom. So I got curious and began writing new fanfic in response to these new interpretations of mine. Really enjoyed returning to Clover, dead fandom and all.