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It was something that had been bothering him for awhile now. Since that day in the marketplace, if he was honest with himself, though maybe he had been a bit curious even before that. But at the time, it had seemed wrong to ask, and even after, he hadn’t been sure of how to bring it up or even when to bring it up that the kid wouldn’t jump on him for it.
No, that wasn’t quite right. The truth was that anytime he started to ask, he’d remember the stares and the pitying expressions and the “what’s wrong with him?” and something would knot inside of him and make him wonder if he was really any different from that.
He’d listened to the way Dororo would talk to him, how sometimes, he would just babble on and on about whatever happened to be on his mind, or rib him for things he’d supposedly done before Tahomaru joined the group (he was going to have to ask about those, one of these days). Other times, he would speak very quietly and gently.
And then there were days like this one, where he’d shriek out, “Hey bro! Are you okay? That one got you pretty bad!” and run over with Hyakkimaru’s detached forearms cradled to his chest. (And if the sight of the blades they concealed still made him uneasy, Tahomaru wasn’t about to admit it.)
That one in question had been a large weasel-like beast that had latched onto Hyakkimaru’s shoulder and yanked him straight off the ground, thrashing around until he’d managed to twist and bury a sword in its throat.
At the moment, he was occupied with trying to wipe one sword on the grass below him. As Dororo ran over to him, Hyakkimaru simply stood, looking first to Dororo, then a little farther to Tahomaru, and then back to Dororo. As the kid reached him, he held out an arm and let him slip the wooden prosthetic over the blade, waiting until both arms were attached to reach up and feel the shoulder where he’d been bitten.
He gave a slight wince, and then started back up the hill towards Tahomaru. Dororo trailed behind him, tugging a frayed sleeve and chirping out, “Hey, lemme see that! You’re hurt, aren’t you?” When Hyakkimaru ignored him, Dororo effectively tried to climb up his torso. Not that it worked, since he kept walking and prevented him from getting a good hold, but it didn't stop him from trying.
If he hadn’t seen his brother yanked off the ground like some kind of sick parody of a dog’s toy, Tahomaru would have stifled a laugh at the sight of them. As it was, he was honestly surprised the beast hadn’t snapped his neck. As much as he would have liked to have been more useful in that ordeal, even watching it, he’d known that one would have been too fast for him. And that wasn't even considering his missing eye. If he’d tried, there was no doubt in his mind he would have been the one lying dead in that weasel’s place.
“The kid’s right,” he found himself saying as they reached him. “You need to let us take a look at your arm.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are, bro,” Dororo huffed, catching up. “Just prove it. Lemme see you’re not hurt, and I’ll back off.”
“I’m fine.”
“Please, even I know better than to believe that,” Tahomaru spoke up. If he had learned nothing else in the short time he’d been with them, it was that Hyakkimaru never said when he was fine. There would be some small gesture, a pat to the kid’s head, or a hand to the cheek, tiny smile curving at the corner of his lip. If he said he was fine, it was almost guaranteed to be a lie.
Hyakkimaru stood, steadfastly ignoring them, staring off at some imaginary creature in the distance.
“Bro!” Dororo’s brow furrowed, an annoyed flush creeping into his cheeks as he jumped up, fixing to yank Hyakkimaru down to his level.
It would probably be fine either way, since this seemed like something they had done before, but Tahomaru decided to step in, resting a hand on the shoulder Dororo wasn’t pulling. If it happened to be the injured one, the flinch just proved his point. “I don’t know if you can get sick or anything,” he started, ignoring Dororo’s helpful chirping that he, in fact, could. “But once you get your body back, you’re going to have to be a lot more careful about that. So why don’t you let us take a look at where that thing bit you, and then we’ll get off your back about it.”
Hyakkimaru turned his head to look where Dororo had latched around his midsection, attempting to climb him once more, and then back to Tahomaru, eyes widened and lips parted just the slightest bit in question.
Then all at once, he simply plunked down where he stood, sending Dororo tumbling partway down the hill before he scrambled back up, muttering about how he could at least give him some warning first. Tahomaru had started to wonder if perhaps there was another deal that had turned this kid’s bones to iron, the way he seemed to hop back up from everything.
“Now, if you’ll give me just one minute,” he yanked the sleeve of his kimono back a bit rougher than was necessary, and even Tahomaru had to wince just watching it. But he let the kid fuss over him all the same. He wondered if it would have been the same, had he been the one to peel back the sleeve, or if he would have flinched away and refused to let him near it.
For the next minute or so, Dororo felt along Hyakkimaru’s arm, feeling along for breaks and checking for anything else. Occasionally, he turned or lifted the arm, watching his brother’s expression for any signs of pain beyond what they already expected. To the surprise of absolutely everyone (because he refused to believe his elder brother didn’t think it was bad if he’d tried to hide it) it was mostly bruised, the skin only broken in one or two places and bleeding sluggishly. Maybe his prosthetic had taken most of the hit? He could see marks near the joint between his skin and the arm, but he wasn't sure if they were from the weasel beast, or from something before that.
“Well, I guess you’re going to live,” Dororo said mock-dramatically. “But we should still clean it up. Honestly, I don’t know how you managed to keep that in the socket. C’mon, let’s go find a river.”
Tahomaru reached out and pulled his elder brother to his feet, careful not to grab his injured arm. As Hyakkimaru reached a hand back for Dororo, the questions he’d had sprang into his mind. Hey, does your arm ever hurt you? Would it be okay if I helped with it sometime? And where'd you even find that kid, anyway? Along with the memory. “What’s wrong with him?” Him standing there near useless as his brother panicked in a crowd of people.
Something must have shifted in his aura, because Hyakkimaru paused, turning back. Sure enough, the child followed suit. “Huh? Bro? Is something wrong?”
Instead of answering, he’d simply stared until Tahomaru swallowed, clenching his fist where Dororo wouldn’t see it, and followed them.
Once Hyakkimaru had cleaned himself and they’d wrapped the injury, they had decided it was best to stop there for the evening. There had been more than enough excitement for one day, and besides that, Dororo had been insistent on not letting his big bro fight while freshly injured. The almost imperceptible shudder that passed through their frames told him there was a story behind that, but if they weren’t volunteering it, it probably wasn’t his place to ask.
They had found fruit on one of the nearby bushes, and Hyakkimaru had been able to skewer a few fish, which Dororo then cooked for each of them. The meat was tougher than he would have liked, but it was far from the worst thing Tahomaru had ever eaten. Though he had to wonder what their father would have said, had he seen the three of them like this.
He had to wonder what he himself would have said about this even two weeks before, had someone told him he would be here.
His thoughts drifted briefly to Hyogo and Mutsu. What would they have said? He wondered if they had been forced to flee after what he had done. It wasn’t as though they had made up his mind for him, but they knew enough to put them in danger, should his father suspect.
“Tahomaru.” His brother’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. “Are you okay?”
A part of him almost had to laugh. “I’m fine,” he answered, taking a bite of the fish before he could ask anything else. The way Hyakkimaru stared after him, he was almost certain he didn’t believe it.
As the three of them laid around the dying embers of their campfire, Tahomaru sat up and crawled over towards his brother. Dororo was fast asleep, curled on his side, but he wasn’t as sure about Hyakkimaru. He had gotten better about it, but since he had no eyes beneath his eyelids, odds were about fifty-fifty that he would remember to close them before he fell asleep. Sometimes, Dororo or Tahomaru would close them for him, if they were up after he was, but the rest of the time, they would simply let him rest with them open, unsettling as it was.
“He’s going to have to learn to do it himself eventually,” Dororo had said once. “If we got split up and he forgot…” He’d thrown himself backwards, pressing his hands over his eyes and pretending to roll around in pain. Hyakkimaru had simply watched, the slightest amusement mixed with confusion playing over his features. Tahomaru still closed them whenever he noticed. He’d only been wrong once or twice.
In any event, he hoped his eyes open meant he was awake. He reached over and started to shake him by the arm before thinking better of it and shaking him from the side instead. “Brother…” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
A moment later, Hyakkimaru turned his head to face him, starting to sit up, reaching a hand to cup his cheek, eyes widening a fraction when he flinched from the contact.
“Ah, no, nothing’s wrong. I just…” He took a breath and then let it out. “There were just some things I was wondering about.”
Hyakkimaru’s head tilted just the slightest bit.
“About you, specifically. The way you are right now,” he swallowed. “With some of your limbs still missing."
If his brother was upset by this, he certainly didn’t show it. If he was honest with himself, a part of him had hoped he would be, that he would simply roll over and pretend to have fallen asleep. He didn’t know why this was so hard, especially when he was certain Dororo would have just blurted it out.
You're not Dororo, some cynical part of him noted.
He sucked in another breath, trying to figure out the best way to say it, before giving up and reaching out to run a hand over his wooden arm, hoping it would help his meaning get across. “Do those ever hurt?”
Hyakkimaru didn’t have the widest range of facial expressions, but in that moment, Tahomaru could have sworn he looked distinctly puzzled, repeating his motion of running a hand over his arm, before pointing to his injured shoulder.
“No, I mean your arms. Your leg.” Whatever it was that was wrong with his back. “Do they hurt?”
His hand continued to run over his arm for several moments, resting it near the connection, before he gave the smallest of nods. “Not all the time.”
“But sometimes they do?”
Another tiny nod.
“Just like how your ears give you trouble sometimes. I know you don’t like large crowds. Are there any other sounds you don’t like?”
In response, Hyakkimaru clamped his hands over his ears, widening his eyes and pinching his mouth into a tight pout. Had the question upset him? But then his expression returned to normal. So then that was a yes, but he didn’t know how to say what. At least, that was what Tahomaru assumed he meant.
“What helps you feel better, when that happens?” He had some idea already. Having something to block out the sound. Being able to get away from it. Light pressure on his back, but not all the time. Something he could run his hands over. But he wanted to hear it from his brother directly, instead of from Dororo.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Hyakkimaru reached forward, cupping his cheek and leaning in until their foreheads touched. But then he realized he had seen him do that a few times before, when Dororo had seemed upset, and then he’d tried to with him when he had first woken him up. He supposed it made sense, if he thought it helped the others, that it was something that had been done for him before.
“Who taught you that?” It wasn’t a question he’d planned on asking, but now that he’d thought of it, it would be easier than waiting until later and having to explain. Still, he touched his hand to the one resting on his cheek, just to be sure he understood.
That tiny smile curled at his lip. “Mama.”
“Oh?” Tahomaru didn’t know why this surprised him. Obviously, his elder brother hadn’t made his arms and legs himself, and he couldn’t have taught himself swordplay, or how to write (which was, admittedly, more than a little surprising, but something he’d have to wait to ask until morning). He supposed he was just not expecting a woman, even though, as he thought of it, there was no reason he shouldn’t. “What’s she like?”
“Strong,” he answered almost immediately. “Big. Cares for people.”
“Yeah,” Tahomaru smiled. “You would find someone like that.”
“Tahomaru…” He paused, frowning as he struggled to find the words. “Mama…Yours, too?”
He must have been tiring out, if he was struggling to put words and phrases together. “You want to know if my mother was the same as yours?”
When his brother nodded against his forehead, he felt it rather than seeing it.
“In some ways, yes, our mother was strong.” She had still been living when he’d left, but he didn’t know how much longer that would be the case. “She prayed for you almost every day. I don't know if she ever stopped praying for you,” he added, feeling it was important for him to know that. But she didn’t have to abandon me. He paused, swallowing back the bitter words before they could escape. Where had that come from, anyway? Instead, he told him, “You look like her, sometimes.”
He felt motion against his forehead again, but this time, his head moved from side to side, rather than nodding. It was slower, too, more deliberate, gentler. A small part of him realized he was being comforted, and something clenched inside of him. It was stupid to feel this way. He didn’t even understand why it affected him so much. But he squeezed his eyes shut and reached forward, starting to return the gesture. Yet something about it was so distinctly Hyakkimaru that it almost felt wrong to copy it. Instead, he reached just a little farther to rest his hand against his brother’s back, the remainder of his questions forgotten as his hand fisted into the fabric in spite of himself.
And if he spent the next few minutes sucking in desperate gulps of air and choking back tears, his elder brother was gracious enough not to comment on it.