Chapter Text
The sky’s blue and the sunlight is hot. The wooden house they’re staying in can't block the heat, but also the light breezes that cool down the steaming air. Takasugi has to stop smoking, fearing that he may set the house on fire and grill them all alive, although he does think about getting rid of the other two recently, due to their most recent unpleasant encounters.
Bansai’s in one corner across from Takasugi, plucking on his shamisen, looking mysterious as ever. He can tell, still, the rolling of the man’s irises under the sunglasses whenever Takasugi’s gaze darts there, but where Bansai's eyes keep his attention on where Takasugi looks remains a one-sided hope. Takechi's on the other end of the room, sitting cross-legged, eyeing them like a worrying mother watching out for any potential fight that may break out between her troubled kids.
To avoid conversation with either, Takasugi casts his eye over the window, seeing the blooming hydrangeas, realizing it’s mid-summer already. Summer in his childhood was filled with the colorful hydrangeas, sunshine and soothing rains that make the flower bloom, beetle hunts, watermelons, and the long nights of staring over the stars trying to guess what they mean.
Summer in his adulthood is monochrome most of the time and has no more joy. The only color that pops up here and there is the sinister shade of blood, and even it after a long while starts to lose the striking aspect, blending in with his gloomy existence. Beetle hunts turned into man and Amanto hunts, watermelons aren't available in space, and the stars he's travelling among now turn out to be other versions of Earth, empty and boring, barely worth a story of significance.
He’s been absent long enough from Earth to feel the same summer as a grown-up, and whenever he’s there, he’s too occupied to acknowledge time or context. This is perhaps the first time, after when his life took a sharp turn to the equivalent of hell on Earth, Takasugi can look at the hydrangeas again with a lingering sense of nostalgia.
Earth doesn’t feel as much like a home as it was. Takasugi realizes, with more regret than excitement, that his long journeys among the stars have let him see that damage has no limit, and suddenly Earth doesn’t look half as terrible as the crippling storage of lunacy and dejection he left behind, the day he bids the leftover of his morality a crispy adieu.
It doesn’t reduce his will to burn down the planet, however. It makes him shiver a bit before putting the sentiments back again in the dusty box where his former ideology is left to wither. This is still the same planet where the wars broke out, Sensei died and Takasugi lost his friends. This is still the hatch of his agony, the place where everyone he loves decides that he’s but a cold-blooded terrorist, a demon born from the depth of hell, feasting on nothing but battlecries and sadness.
They aren't wrong. Takasugi isn’t sure how many portions of humanity’s left in him – probably none other than his outlook – and they’re acting for their sake not to stay close to such a destructive creature. What bothers him is how short it takes for them to turn their back on him totally, and although the pain of betrayal’s died down to a little cry, the scars are forever there in his mind, haunting him during the nights when the calls of guilt are louder than the need for sleep.
The Kiheitai’ve got quite a load of new gear, but they’ve also lost a bigger load of human resources, and it’d be a waste to keep the weapons untouched in their storage without anyone to use them. Takasugi doesn’t trust the Amanto to handle his team, either, so the best choice for him now is to return to the planet he detests, for the sake of gaining a new batch of recruits he’ll learn to like and trust later.
He also realizes, a little too late and regretful, it means he has to work, and worse, communicate with Bansai this time. Despite their ongoing stupid squabble, which hasn’t gone anywhere near solved and seemingly drifted to icy silence as time goes by, Bansai is still a Kiheitai's co-commander, and he has the right to know the maniacs that will join them (or be sent to death) in their next suicide missions.
As his mind’s still hanging onto Bansai and the night their fight broke out, his stupid words and Bansai’s even stupider reaction, Takechi’s criticism about their manners, and the fact that both of them are stupider than the stupidest for refusing to communicate at all, a figure approaches and block the sunlight away from Takasugi. He doesn’t have to turn to know who it is, and he groans.
Speaking of the devil, the thought flashes quickly through his mind, causing his groan to merge into a quick chuckle. It can be more literal than Takasugi thinks, who knows? Bansai is Takasugi’s favorite thanks to their same level of cruelty, ruthlessness, and weird behaviors, he may as well be the devil himself in a human form. Perhaps that’s why he can listen to people’s songs, why it’s so difficult to read him, or why nobody ever knows anything about his past.
Perhaps Bansai has no past. Perhaps he isn’t even human, but a creature born from a crack of a damned planet, spitted out from out of nowhere, without any reason, and exists since then. Perhaps the songs of the soul are his way of describing the manner of his feasts, in which he listens to his prey’s deepest thoughts, and slowly sucks and munches, draining them to the core before they have any idea about their situation.
“It’s not the time to laugh at nothing, Shinsuke,” he hears it again, the voice he hates and at the same time has been dying to hear, “the new batch is here, I daresay. I know they are criminals and weird shits, but you don’t want to show them that their future commander is a laughing maniac, do you?”
Takasugi sneers at him. “Maybe I do want to show them that. Whoever stay after knowing my true self are worthy, others can fuck off.”
“With that attitude, I daresay even the worthy don’t want to work for you,” Bansai's tone is calm, but Takasugi can see the mocking gaze he has under the sunglasses.
“With that attitude, both of you’re going to scare the recruits away,” Takechi shows up and walks in between, separating Takasugi from Bansai, “they have to know that we’re a trustworthy organization, not just because we care about women and little girls, but also because we don’t banter stupidly and spit on each other’s face,” he glances to Takasugi, “are we clear?”
Takasugi can hear Bansai chuckle from the other side, “I daresay you do know who to aim the question at, Takechi.”
“It’s meant for both of you,” the man keeps his tone low, “can I trust you two on this?”
Takasugi frowns, but neither he nor Bansai has the time to come up with a witty answer. Takechi walks ahead to the door and nods to one of their soldiers outside, and waves for them to get into the area in front of the house.
Bansai takes a step ahead, but he pauses in the middle of his way to the door. Takasugi can see his head tilting backward and he stops in the process. His body remains where it is, doesn’t seem like moving any inch ahead. It’s his waiting habit, and it stirs up something Takasugi doesn’t want to address.
He walks to Bansai, and they go side-by-side through the door without a word. Aside from the mocking earlier, which he considers a conversation attempt and Bansai’s defeat in their tug-of-silence game, they seem to have returned to the no-talk area. Takasugi feels his victory falter as he wonders what Bansai meant by his waiting. No matter how much he likes to deny it, Bansai has his way to slither in Takasugi’s head and live there rent-free, filling him with thoughts that go over the edges, and unhinged analysis.
Bansai’s wait can be a force of habit. It can be his manner to let Takasugi show up first, as the commander-general and the founder. It can be his sense of Takasugi’s absence and his discomfort of walking alone, but what lies behind this remains unexplained. He doesn’t plan to ask, however. He likes to give it the benefit of the doubt and refuses to think of the possibility that Bansai may not care about him as much as he did before.
Whatever happens, Takasugi needs to put away his scattering thoughts. He hates to admit that Bansai’s right, but this is his first time meeting the new potential crewmembers. They will fight for him and most likely die for him in the process, adding themselves to the piles of corpses under his feet. He can’t let them think that they’re sacrificing for someone who’s not worth it, he can’t le–
His thought is cut off mid-word and quickly vanishes, and he’s frozen on the spot. He sees the recruits for the first time, and his eye’s locked on a particular figure among them. He doesn’t know what caught his sight from the start, he doesn’t know why the words and the names are storming into his mind at that particular moment, or why his mind’s lost its ability to block them away like before.
Ame is the first word – a name – that comes to him. Ame. Ooka. Then hydrangeas. Then hangover. Then he realizes that the last two are actually one word and another name. Hydrangeas hangover is the name of the painting that starts it all, which he’s kept at the ship and somehow still manages to mess with his mind at this critical moment.
After the realization, the words barge into him, loud and clear, swirling and clenching his mind into acceptance.
I'll find you again. In the next life and all the lives to come.
He’s staring at a soldier, who looks like someone in their eighteen, or twenty-six, or even older. It’s hard to tell his age based on the look only, but it doesn't matter. He’s striking, and it’s all that matters. His eyes resemble the blue sky, and his hair the sunlight waltzing around it. He has a slender face that seems soft at first sight but hardens as Takasugi’s eye persists, casting through his scars and burned marks.
Takasugi feels his cheeks going warm, and he hopes that the heat of summer can give him an excuse for it. He tries to rip his eye off the soldier, but even as he looks away, his mind stays fixed on him. The soldier is beautiful, like a breath of summer rain, a perfect harmony of the heat and the breezes, of the balmy sunlight mixing finely with the gloomy clouds before any sudden shower.
Right. Takasugi finds himself blinking at the thought. This soldier brings the vibe of a soothing rain after long days of drought. Just like his name, like the rain. Ame.
Takasugi bites his own tongue. All of his repressed memories come back in waves now, filling his head with images from the past. Further than the Joyi war, further than Shouka Sonjuku, further than anything he can remember. The past, as in times when he wasn’t born, or he was, but in other forms. He’s finding himself recalling the lives he used to live before his current one as Takasugi Shinsuke.
In every one of them, without fail, he finds them together. He, and the one his mind automatically knows as the soldier. They took different appearances, men and women, and whatever falls between them in the gender spectrum, or out of that, many shapes and forms, races and species. There’s one thing that stays the same: they’re bound together by a strong thread of love.
Lord Ame’s seemingly lived up to his vow. In whatever next life and all the lives to come, he finds his beloved. In whatever lives they lead, destiny binds them together, bringing them to the realization of their bygone affection, with flashes of their moments together.
But now, one of them wants to rip it apart.
“Shinsuke?” He hears Bansai’s voice beside him, hazy like a whisper. “Are you alright?”
He wants to lean on Bansai’s voice and escape the overwhelming thought, but he can’t. Words seemed to have lost their way from the depth of his heart to his mouth – not that he’s usually able to express his inner thoughts, but it’s worse than before. His mind’s lost its control over the situation, and the only thing he can think of is the love story depicted in the Hydrangeas hangover.
He wants to blame and curse Matako for that, but even the swearings that are always on the tip of his tongue are gone. He wants to snap at Takechi for arranging a meeting in such a damn weather – and probably that’s why his head is fucked up to the point he’s indulged in nonsensical memories and deduction – but his witty comments are washed off, probably to the same place his sanity stays.
And on top of all, Takasugi wants to yell at Bansai. The man just asked if Takasugi’s alright, when he, of all people, can tell that Takasugi isn’t. He can imagine his song twisting, bursting and barging into Bansai’s head like a desperate call out for help, and yet Bansai remains so still. As if he’s stopped caring about Takasugi’s reaction, as if the wrecked song of his soul is but a regular misplayed melody.
Takechi doesn’t seem to realize the situation and starts directing the recruits to move ahead and start introducing their names and abilities. Takasugi barely catches on. He has a feeling that he knows the reason why, but he keeps the leftover of his mind stubborn enough not to pinpoint it. His guts are churning for the turn of the soldier.
“My name is Kaidou,” he says, and Takasugi can feel himself breathing out at the name. It has nothing to do with ame, so maybe there isn’t any connection here. Maybe it’s just the weather that messes with his head. “Kaidou Kasumi,” the soldier continues.
Takechi looks at him. “And how do I write Kasumi?”
The soldier smiles, a bit shyly. “The one Kanji version. It’s kinda a rare one. Here, let me show you. There’s an ame here, and–”
Takasugi’s heart misses a beat. The last wall he’s built up to convince himself that he isn’t obsessed with the painting, and there’s no connection between him and this soldier, has collapsed. The feeling that burns on the top of his mind and overwrites his other thoughts is right from the start. The soldier is the reincarnation of Lord Ame in the painting, and Takasugi is of his destined lover, Lady Ooka.
He swallows, feeling his eye go blind over time, as the idea takes over his head. He still can’t wrap his mind around why a pair of dead Amanto reincarnated into humans on Earth, but the memories about his past lives show him that it isn't impossible. And then Matako’s words return to him.
I wonder what it feels like, to suddenly remember that you have a loved one.
“Excuse me,” he can hear Kasumi's voice. The soldier is talking to Takechi, but his eyes are fixed on Takasugi, “can I talk to Commander-General a bit?”
It feels like damned shit.
He feels his mind and heart tilting towards the idea of meeting Kasumi alone, but a small portion of him is fighting against that. Not until then does he realize that his rebellious portion resembles the song of a shamisen. It’s weak, but it’s there. Its voice is almost drowned by other screams and urges, but he can detect it. He leans into it, trying to hang onto his sane mind.
The love he felt is true, but it’s of the past and belongs to the life he no longer lives. The inclination and yearning aren’t his, but others', pent-up and entangled due to centuries of experiences. They were him, to some extent, but their lives have ended. They shouldn’t have any effect on the current hellhole existence he single-handedly created and endures by himself.
So he grabs on the only strand of hope that doesn’t follow the past’s flow of desire and climbs with all his strength back up. It’s too small to hold, and sometimes it slips through his fingers, but what’s Takasugi good at if not persisting and being a most notoriously stubborn asshole? He never falters in the face of hardship, and this one’s still easier than a lot of things in his life, such as maintaining a normal conversation with Bansai.
As he focuses on the shamisen song, he vaguely senses a tug on his sleeve, then a yank that almost pulls him out of the maze-like memories and past feelings. A strong arm rips Takasugi off from the crowd and brings him to a different corner, where he’s hidden behind a wall, where there’s no reminder of a promise he made centuries and past lives ago, where he can confront his own thoughts, reality, and…Bansai.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bansai crosses his arms and peers at him. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You froze out there in front of everyone, I dare say.”
Takasugi looks up. Bansai’s blocking away the sun from him, and perhaps it eases down both the scalding grasp of summer on his skin and the burning thoughts inside his head. He can think much clearer than before, and then he’s submerged again with the reminder of everything that showed up in his head.
“I don’t know how to explain this.” He grunts.
Bansai frowns. “Then do it from the start, I daresay.”
“I don’t know where the start is.”
“Then start with the fact that you’re horny all over there for that new guy Kasumi. I. Dare. Say.”
Takasugi blinks. He knows Bansai’s rude, but he doesn’t expect Bansai to be this straightforward.”
“I didn’t–”
“I heard your song,” Bansai grits his teeth, “I’m hearing it now. What the hell is it?” The man seems to have dropped all of this usual pattern and is pressing hard with questions. “This song is exclusively for me, and now it’s playing for someone else. First, you disregarded me, and now you’re–”
“I’m what?” Takasugi snaps, “I disregarded you? Do you think we’re exclusive? What are we, then? Why do you even care if I’m interested in anyone else?”
“You know I care.”
“Then why the fuck do you never prove it to me?” Takasugi growls, “I never know what you think. You know what I think, you hear my songs and bullshits, but I never hear you. What the fuck do you want, I don’t fucking know. You think you’re having it hard?” He slaps Bansai on the cheek, hearing the shamisen blaring in his head as he shouts, “Bansai, what am I to you?”
Bansai stops. His face is tilting to the side, reddened under Takasugi’s slap. The sunglasses over his eyes are slapped off to the ground, leaving his golden iris naked, darting to somewhere even Takasugi doesn’t know.
He shudders at the last thought. It isn't right. For the first time in a while, Bansai's eyes are no longer covered by any shade, darkness, or shadow. Ever since they started their stupid routine of going to each other’s room so casually and willingly, it’s the first time he sees Bansai’s naked eyes in daylight. And he can see through them to Bansai’s thoughts. He knows where they go.
Him. Bansai’s eyes are on Takasugi, and his thoughts are about him.
The man stands up and quickly regains his posture. He peers at Takasugi with his sharp eyes, then leans over, grabbing Takasugi’s neck as if he weighs nothing to him. Takasugi can feel his throat squeeze a bit, but he makes no move to stop Bansai. He doesn’t even flinch, either, as Bansai presses his back against one of the walls.
“Fuck you, you know?” Bansai’s voice sounds grim, but Takasugi can tell that he isn’t mad, “if it’s all you want to know, you can just fucking ask.”
“And let you tease me for the rest of my life?” Takasugi snaps back, trying to quiver out of his touch, but Bansai puts more strength through his fingers and keeps him still.
“That's the risk you have to take.”
“That’s why I never ask,” he kicks Bansai on the shin.
“But you may have a chance to tease me back, if you know the fucking answer, I dare fucking say.”
Takasugi freezes. What did Bansai just say?
“What the fuck do you mean?”
Bansai’s staring at him. His grip loosens a bit, but now enough to let Takasugi escape. Then he clears his throat, and leans over, for a wicked grin and a whisper.
“You’re Shinsuke to me,” Bansai’s breath feels hot against the skin of his ears, “for the start, I do think of you as many things, but I know you want to be just Shinsuke. As your true self, not anyone’s commander, general, or bullcrap title. And if it’s what you want the most, then,” he changes the position, and kisses Takasugi gently, mumbling through the lips’ movement, “that’s all you are to me.”
He pulls back and retrieves his arm, then continues. “Now you have heard the corny shits I said. Take them to tease me, whatever I daresay. I don’t want to change us…or anything else. I don’t want to lose what we have, I daresay.”
“And you never will,” Takasugi mutters through his gasps, then tugs on Bansai’s arm. “Come. We have a new batch of recruits to consider, and I think they may have some weird thoughts about us.”
“A preview of what they may have to face on the ship, I daresay.”
The wind’s a bit colder as their ship picks up the pace and glides through the clouds, and Takasugi suddenly feels a bit of nostalgia. They’re leaving Earth, probably until the next time they’re out of human resources, which is anywhere ranging from a few months to several years, and he doesn’t know when he can see it again. He doesn’t even know if he makes it out alive to the next reunion.
With the kiseru dangling between his fingers, Takasugi scatters the ashes along with the wind, watching with amusement as they all fall back to the planet under him. He knows Earth will survive those meaningless speckles, as he didn’t do it with the intention to destroy. He knows the day isn’t there yet, he isn’t ready, and there’re still souls on Earth strong enough to make it prevail.
He smirks, and exhales a ring of smoke into the air, feeling the crispy atmosphere pinching him all over where his yukata fails to cover. The day will come, and Takasugi will stand all over it, watching the last speck of sand on Earth burning under his step and bringing his withering soul along with them. It shall be the day that marks an end to all of his suffering, and until then, he just needs to endure a bit longer.
Not that he’ll have to do it alone. He has Takechi to nag him any time he acts childish, he has Matako to listen to his wildest talks and supports him regardless, he has a crew who will shoulder the pain for him if he asks – he never plans to, because he knows they have their own battles to fight. And most important of all, he has a distraction, loyal and annoying, always standing by his side and stirring up the most nonsense conversation.
“So let me rephrase,” his reality is filled with Bansai's nonstop babbling, each carrying more provocation than the other, as Takasugi puts the kiseru back up to his mouth to refrain from arguing. “That painting in your room is the story of your past life?”
“My past of the past of the past,” Takasugi mumbles, refusing to leave his kiseru, “but yes, sorts of.”
“And that you’re the lady in the painting and the soldier you were horny all over is the man you made a vow to love again and again and again?”
“I wasn’t horny,” Takasugi snaps, “I was struck by memories that aren’t mine.”
“Yeah, the memory of you and him fucking. Horny, I daresay.”
“Do you think I won’t dare to kick you off this ship?”
“What?” Bansai looks at him, and Takasugi can see the playful hint under his shade. “So you can get rid of me and go back to your, say, past love?”
“You’re fucking gross, you know?”
“Learning from the best,” Bansai smirks and gives him a neck kiss. “And you handled things with him alright? He agrees to stay back there, on Earth?”
“I don’t think it affects his decision to stay,” Takasugi laughs, “we can’t let him join us. He has no experience. Half of that batch are inexperienced, anyway. And sure, I talked to him to sort things out. He’s a bit shy to tell me about the surges of memories, too, but we both decided that they belong to something in the past.”
“Your past seems to affect you more than you think, I daresay,” Bansai shakes his head, “what do I do if you doze off again into your thoughts?”
“I gave him the painting, so it’s unlikely,” Takasugi turns to him, and cups his face, “you don’t have to worry about any of this, alright?”
“I’m not worrying about your past. I’m worrying that you may…” he trails off, and leaves his line hanging.
“I won’t,” Takasugi kisses him on the cheek, “I said that I wouldn’t die, didn't I? Going insane is a state of my mind dying. I won’t die, physically or mentally.”
“Sure you’ll live,” Bansai kisses him back, “I'll make sure of it.”
“And you, too. I've left behind my past. You’re my present, and future now. Live for my sake.”
- fin -