Chapter Text
The wind howled viciously across the grassland with the cackles of yokai interspersed in it. A lone figure stumbled over every rock and root in his way as he wandered, aimless and dragging an unsheathed sword behind him.
The evil laughter intensified.
Why so sad, Hyakkimaru? Did you do something bad?
The figure looked up and silently cursed his ability to see the spirits floating above him, taunting him.
I think he did! I think he did! Just look at that blood on his clothes and sword. You’d think he was a murderer!
Hyakkimaru bit his lip and started shaking, but he said nothing and continued his tortured trek.
How does it feel to have killed your own baby brother?
“Shut up! Shut up! ” Hyakkimaru’s scream was animalistic and venomous, but it did nothing to stop the malicious rejoicing of the yokai.
Fratricide is a sin, you know. Enjoy your time in hell!
With this, the yokai may have left, or the wind increased its intensity, or maybe he had finally gone crazy with grief. Hyakkimaru did not care anymore.
His knees folded and he fell to the ground, still holding onto the muddied sword. His mind writhed with a hundred excuses for what had happened, and all of them fell flat. It was true. He’d done it. He was the one who had run his sword through his brother, Tahomaru.
He could still see it. He could see Tahomaru’s face, filled with rage, striking at him. He saw himself parrying, dodging and then burying that blade in his left arm deep into Tahomaru’s ribs, reaching his lungs, possibly his heart.
He could see Tahomaru’s face fill with pain, more rage and then — slowly — recognition. He knew he’d die. And he looked directly into Hyakkimaru’s single eye, one he’d won moments ago after slaying the kitsune. He was no longer angry. There was sadness and there was longing and, above all, there was regret in his gaze. Gasping for breath as his lungs filled with blood, he spoke, each word clearly an ordeal.
“Aniue… I wish we had met… in a different life.”
Why? Why would he say that? Why would he fill him with doubt in this final hour? Hyakkimaru could only shout his younger brother’s name as he watched his soul depart from his body. And now he was here, in this field of emptiness and yokai. Everything else was a blur. Tahomaru’s retainers — did he kill them too? Dororo had been there — did he hurt him as well? He vaguely remembered pushing him away with more force than necessary. Everything was wrong and twisted.
A sardonic smile stretched across his mouth unnaturally. Daigo Kagemitsu, you wanted to see me dead. Fine, I’ll grant your wish.
He took the sword he’d been dragging in the mud and held it against his own neck, feeling the cold blade on his skin. One quick slash would do it.
I’m sorry, Dororo.
But his sword did not slice through his neck. A walking stick held his sword away.
“Don’t do it. That’s not your style.”
Hyakkimaru opened his eyes and saw the wandering monk with the biwa standing over him. His only reply was a feral growl from deep in his throat as he violently shoved the cane away from him. The monk should mind his own business! He wouldn’t understand what he was going through! Hyakkimaru got up and stalked away from the wandering priest, giving him his best threatening glare. A normal man would have wet himself and cowered. Maddeningly, the monk just followed him as casually as if they were taking a leisurely stroll.
“Do you think leaving will solve your problems? Do you intend to disappear for fifty years?”
Hyakkimaru stomped his steps to show his displeasure, but he still couldn’t bring himself to speak. His tongue was stuck in his throat and his arms were trembling. His grip on his sword was so strong his wooden fingers creaked under the strain.
“And what about the little one? That spitfire thief?”
Hyakkimaru flinched at the mention of Dororo but he forced himself to keep walking away from the blind man. Strange, he didn’t seem to make much headway. He was walking, but it felt as if he was wading through a thick swamp instead. Were the yokai trying to drag him down to hell already?
“Ah, so you’d pass on the responsibility of taking care of that young one to me? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“That’s not— he can take care of — just lea—” Hyakkimaru tried to form words but only choked sounds came out. The priest looked at him with bemusedly, not understanding the string of gibberish spilling from Hyakkimaru’s mouth. Before he knew it, he was sobbing. He finally let go of his sword to cover his face with both his hands.
“That’s better, or at least more honest, young warrior.”
With that, the monk sat down and started casually strumming his biwa, waiting for Hyakkimaru to stop crying.
“So! You found your birth parents, and they rejected you. You found your little brother, he challenged you to a duel and you killed him. `Tis enough reason to make anyone weep. But you mustn’t lose hope. You have to keep going.”
“C—can’t. Hunt demons, hurt land. I-if I have my body, people would curse me. Mama hates me. I — I killed younger brother.” He could finally speak, but forming real sentences was too much right now. He tried to take a calming breath, and it worked a little, though it was still shaky. “I have… nothing to live for.”
“Nothing, he says! Not even the forgiveness of your unfortunate kin?”
Hyakkimaru wiped his messy face with the back of his sleeve. “What?”
“Your little brother might be dead, but that doesn’t mean he’s beyond your reach. You of all people should know, there are places and times where the world of spirits and ours can convene. If you’re so upset, then say sorry to him.”
Hyakkimaru stared at his left arm, the one containing the sword used for the deed. Was such a thing possible?
It took much longer than Hyakkimaru would have liked to find the grave. He couldn’t decide what had been harder: finding Dororo and apologizing to him in earnest or sneaking through the Daigo land when everyone was on high alert to hunt him down for killing the heir.
But here they were, standing in the graveyard with only the light of the moon guiding Hyakkimaru’s single eye to the correct one. The newest, most prominent one, with fresh incense and offerings in front of it. Hyakkimaru knew his mother had placed those earlier, as he had been stalking this place since daylight despite the danger. Now it was quiet and empty and he tried not to think about her. His heart only had space for one calamity at a time.
He took off the tengai woven hat he’d been forced to wear to hide his identity. Disguising himself as a komuso monk had been one of Dororo’s more brilliant ideas, he had to admit. But he did not know how long this disguise would hold, as the real monks wouldn’t stay in one place for long and he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.
Passing the hat to Dororo, he steeled himself and gave him a pointed look. The younger boy gave Hyakkimaru a huff of understanding as he took the hat and walked away to keep guard. Hyakkimaru sighed and thought once again that sometimes he didn’t deserve Dororo. Maybe he didn’t deserve anything. He shook his head, trying to chase the troubling thoughts away. He wanted a clear head to talk to his brother.
He knelt in front of the grave, lit a stick of incense, and put his hands together in prayer for Tahomaru. He realized then that he didn’t know what he was praying for Tahomaru to do. For his soul to be at rest? For his soul to go to heaven? For his understanding? For forgiveness?
He unclasped his hands and looked at the grave, the cold stone giving him no answers.
“Tahomaru?” His voice was timid, as if unsure he was allowed to speak at all. Despite the normal nighttime sounds surrounding him — the leaves rustling in the wind, the crickets chirping and frogs croaking nearby — he felt an eerie stillness surrounding him.
He remembered what the monk had said; this was something that had to do with spiritual energy. He closed his eyes and focused on the green colour of his prosthetic arm, the golden glow of the graves and the prayer sticks, the white spots which were fireflies lazily flying around him and… the white spirit now sitting on the grave in front of him.
Hyakkimaru drew an unsteady, broken breath and stopped himself from reaching out to touch the one he knew did not have a physical body.
“What do you want? You have some gall, calling me to this world when you were the one who took me out of it.”
The haughtiness in his brother’s voice startled Hyakkimaru and he nearly laughed in relief because, though annoyed, it held no malice. Tahomaru was not angry. Perhaps it should have been obvious since his spirit was willing to come to talk to him in the first place.
“Tahomaru, I know… I know this is stupid to say after the fact, but… I’m sorry. I never wanted things to end the way they did. I…”
What did he want to say? ‘Sorry I stabbed you to death’? ‘Sorry our father pitted us against each other’? ‘Sorry I chose my body over the fate of your land’? He knew a spirit would know if there was any insincerity and he couldn’t say that last one in earnest.
The white form slouched arrogantly and looked off to the side. “You know, one advantage of being dead is that you see things with more clarity. Certain truths reveal themselves — or perhaps it’s the change in perspective.
“I never thought our honoured father would lie to me, or manipulate me for his own ends, but he did. He forced my hand.” The white spirit turned his incorporeal head towards his brother. “And I, in turn, forced yours.
“If you had escaped that fight I would have hunted you down. You would get no respite, I would not have relented until one of us was dead. I was just so… convinced that you were the one that stood to bring blood and destruction to our land and I become so desperate to protect it that I would have done anything. Just like you would have done anything to get your body back, Aniue.”
Hyakkimaru shook his head desperately. “I wouldn’t have done it unless you gave me no choice!”
“I didn’t, so you did.”
"I don't forgive you,”
Hyakkimaru swallowed hard as he gripped the hem of his kimono. He had been expecting this, but it was still hard to hear.
“...but I no longer think that you'll bring ruin to the land.
"If the Daigo clan does collapse, it will be due to the actions of our father, and my own. You...you’re just a pawn in all this, just like I was."
There was an uneasy silence and Hyakkimaru felt tears stinging his eyes again. He knew it was selfish to wish for closure, but he still felt like they were going in frustrating circles.
He then felt an emotion enter his head, which felt weird without the accompanying sound. Did his brother just sigh without breath?
“To tell you the truth, I was ready to hate you when I died. Right before the end, I was ready to curse your name and your existence for all eternity. But then you stabbed me and our eyes met, and for some reason that anger was gone. Do you remember that?”
Tears were spilling out of Hyakkimaru’s eyes without his consent and he didn’t dare move to wipe them away, so he nodded.
“And once I was a spirit, I followed you trying to understand why. I think now I know why. I saw you crying then. Your grief was genuine.
“I called you a monster, a scourge on our land, a thing to be destroyed. I attacked you from the moment I knew our connection. But you cried for me.
“We barely knew each other, and you cried for me.”
Hyakkimaru gasped, because he had seen the white spirit lean forward but he hadn’t expected to feel his fingers on his cheek, wiping away his tears. He opened his eyes, one real and one glass. He was in the graveyard with the frogs croaking and Dororo some distance away humming to himself, but he didn’t feel alone. He brought his hand to his cheek and he knew that he hadn’t imagined the touch. He allowed himself a small sad smile. It was as if a weight had been lifted off him along with those tears.