Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You could never atone for what you did.” And his sins would stain Kaname as well, if he remained nearby. Even if people didn’t know, the connection would still be there. People would ask why he had left his apprenticeship, and then what would he say? Would he tell them what Jukai really was? Perhaps it would have been fitting, but something bitter and gnarled within him made him swallow it back. He could never atone, but it didn’t mean he had to be the one to bring it out.

Kaname still believed that, on some level. Nothing he did would bring his parents back to life, or erase the fact that Jukai had worked for Lord Shiba. It wouldn’t scrub the tortures from his hands or change the monster he had become.

But at the same time, he wasn’t blind. There were people, farmers, who used Jukai’s prosthetics, who wouldn’t be able to feed themselves without them. Kaname himself had even used the techniques he’d learned to craft himself at least a crude approximation of the leg he’d thrown away, much as it made him feel like a hypocrite. But for the others, it wasn’t like they knew any better. Just because he could never atone, did it mean these people didn’t deserve to work, either?

And then there were others like him, people who fit much better with what he’d imagined his parents’ killer to be. He’d had to be careful to avoid them, certain they would slash off his arms just for breathing, maybe shoot him with an arrow just for target practice. His own meager skills had saved a couple of people who’d nearly met that fate.

Sometimes, as he worked on them, he’d had to fight not to be sick. Jukai might have been a monster inside, but at least he didn’t keep adding to his body count.

Still, there was yet another group of people he’d encountered, people who had once been like Jukai had. Some of them shaved their heads and became monks, while others guarded villages from samurai or other monsters, whatever they could do with the skill sets they possessed.

The further out he got, the more he saw of this. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that Jukai had somehow single-handedly shielded his village, or that there hadn’t been hardships back there. But there were people reduced to begging like animals because they could no longer walk, children who could no longer play, and mothers who had no hope of paying rice taxes on their own.

And it wasn’t as though these villages didn’t have any doctors, but there were none that could replace a missing limb. None with the kind of training that would let people work like before, at least. He might have been able to get there, someday, but the way he was now…

No. He’d said he wouldn’t let that man be his salvation. He couldn’t go back on it now. He would do what he could, where he could, and it would have to be enough.

He might have been able to continue living like that. It wasn’t as though every loose end needed to be tied up, and there may have been some things that were better left in the past.

“You think you can just walk around like nothing happened?” Kaname’s head whipped around to see a young woman standing in front of a man much older than her. He had the look of an experienced warrior. Former samurai, then. He could already see where this would go badly.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” the man shrugged, making as if to step around her.

But she shifted to block him again. “My father and brother died because of you! And you don’t see why you shouldn’t?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. “It’s not gonna bring them back. To be honest, I don’t know that I even remember killing your folks. But so what? People die all the time.”

There was a loud smack of skin on skin as the woman struck him with enough force to make him stumble. It wasn’t even a slap, Kaname noticed. She had punched, and hard enough that he could already see the bruises forming on her knuckles, and the blood dripping from his lip.

He stood, touching the corner of his mouth and wincing. And then his expression went cold and furious.

“Why, you—!” The back of his arm struck her, making her stagger and fall. “You wanna join your folks that bad? Just consider yourself lucky I don’t send you to them right now!”

And with that, he stormed away, leaving her glaring after him and biting her lip to hold back tears. “One day I’ll kill him,” she whispered once he was out of earshot.

Perhaps it wasn’t any of his business, but he found himself stepping out. “Excuse me, miss? Are you hurt?”

There was no missing the hardened look in her eye. “Ah, no, don’t trouble yourself.” Her tone was almost completely at odds with that look.

“It’s no trouble,” he replied. “I’m…” What was he, really? Could he call himself a doctor when he’d left his apprenticeship behind? “I’ve studied a bit of medicine, so it’s no trouble.”

Though she glared at him, she relented, letting him wrap her hand where she’d bruised and broken skin on the knuckle. When he had finished, she looked it over before she stood. “Thank you,” she said simply, and then she was gone.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar situation, he couldn’t help thinking. There were plenty of people like her, he was certain. There was no way she was the only one who wanted that acknowledgment, who wanted to strike down the people who’d taken her loved ones. Part of him wondered if some day, she would actually do it. How far would she go for that end?

It could just as easily have been him, back when he’d confronted Jukai. When he had loomed over his former mentor and held the chisel over his heart, screaming that he’d killed his father—he could just as easily have struck him down. He could have knocked his legs out from under him. It wouldn’t have been hard, not with him lunging over his work table. How much harder would it have been to disguise it as an accident, once he had removed the body?

He could just as easily have said, “So what? I killed a lot of people. I don’t even remember killing your father.”

So then, why hadn’t he?

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even begged for his own life, or asked to be allowed to atone. He’d only asked to finish his service to that young boy. “Do whatever you wish when this job is over. Only let me fulfill my promise to that child.”

There was no way someone who had tortured and murdered so many people…There had been plenty of people who’d regretted what they had done, but none of them could have had so much blood on their hands. Could they?

Kaname staggered over to a bush, where he struggled not to be sick.

Chapter Text

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d set out in this direction. It wasn’t as though it would undo everything that had happened. That much was true. He still didn’t believe someone could atone for sins of that magnitude—and it wasn’t as though Jukai believed it either. He may have been working to help people who’d been hurt by the wars, but he’d even said he didn’t dare say it was to atone.

If he was completely honest, it wasn’t even as though he wasn’t still angry over it. Really, he had every right to be. He didn’t owe anything to someone who’d taken his parents from him.

But…on some level, maybe Jukai had understood that.

It wasn’t as though he had to resume his apprenticeship or anything. He definitely wanted that much to be clear. At the same time, though, with what he understood now, the way they’d parted no longer sat right with him, and he at least wanted to clear that up. If it was something that could still be mended. If it was something he still wanted to mend, once he arrived.

He would tell him the truth, that he’d seen enough that he was no longer willing to see him only as a monster, that he still didn’t believe it was possible to atone, but that he’d seen what he might have become, and he at least respected he had not done that. He would not continue his apprenticeship, and he did not expect to stay for long, but it didn’t feel right not to acknowledge that much.

That was what he would say.

Yet, as he slid the door open, every word, every sound he had thought to make, died in his throat. It was Jukai inside, but there was something else, too, wriggling around across the floor like an oversized worm wrapped in a blanket. “Ah! Please be careful!” he called after it, scooping it up into his arms and bouncing it lightly as if placating an overactive baby that was better off going to sleep right then. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he whispered. “You’re going to scratch yourself.”

And with a wave of nausea, he realized that was exactly what he was looking at.

“What…what did you…?” It was all he could manage before the man turned to him, hardly even shocked.

Had he heard him come in? Of course, he must have. It wasn’t like Kaname had intended to be subtle. Jukai carefully wrapped the blanket further over the baby, almost like he was shielding it from his view. A small offense flared inside of him, because it wasn’t like he was a monster who’d kill a child in some act of petty vengeance. 

“I hadn’t expected you to return,” Jukai said.

Kaname swallowed. “I hadn’t expected to myself. I…” He let himself struggle over the wording for a moment longer before looking at the bundle instead. “Where did you find that?”

“He was…” Jukai hesitated, smoothing a fold in the fabric. “Most likely, he was abandoned. He was in a boat not far down the path from here. There was no sign of a struggle.”

“Why leave him in a boat, then? Why not take him to a temple or…?” If it had been an option, surely the parents would have done that. Something had to have happened to the parents that Jukai didn’t know about. But a samurai wouldn’t have killed the parents and then turned around and saved their baby—he’d seen enough of them to know that much.

Jukai’s silence told him far more than anything he could have said. Did it have something to do with the reason he’d hidden it from his view?

“Now,” Jukai placed the baby into a wooden tub before turning to him. “If I may ask what brings you here…”

“I…hadn’t intended to come back,” Kaname started. If he was going to tell him, he wanted that much to be clear.

He told him what he had seen in the year he had been away, the people he had encountered with no prosthetics, the former samurai guarding the villages, the woman who swore to kill her family’s murderer. Jukai did not speak during any of this, did not look at him, barely reacted to any of it. At times, Kaname almost wished he would be offended by the things he had believed. Yet he was just the same as he had been when Kaname stood over him, ready to kill him.

Here he’d intended to finish by clarifying that he didn’t want to continue his apprenticeship, but he hadn’t wanted to let these things go unsaid. And yet…

“You could have struck me down then.” Kaname shifted, looking directly at Jukai for the first time since he’d told his tale. “Why didn’t you?”

When Jukai didn’t answer him, Kaname felt something tightening in his stomach. “You said you didn’t care for your own life. You could have defended yourself. You could have said you didn’t remember it, or that me killing you wouldn’t bring them back! Why didn’t you?"

I wouldn’t have been your salvation! he wanted to scream. It wouldn’t have changed what you did! What makes you any different than any of those others?

Yet something made him bite it back even as Jukai kept his eyes lowered. Maybe he felt like he’d already given an answer that day over a year ago. Maybe he didn’t have an answer. Maybe he didn’t understand what Kaname was trying to say.

Or maybe…maybe it wasn’t a pleasant answer for any of them.

Kaname was beginning to feel like he was better off leaving right then, and he breathed in, ready to bow and dismiss himself.

Suddenly, there was a thump and Jukai’s head snapped in the direction of the large wooden tub, whose occupant had flipped it over and was rapidly crawling away. “Hyakkimaru!” he cried out, rushing to lift the baby before it could crawl too close to the fire.

In that split second between the baby’s escape and Jukai’s rescue, Kaname saw why he had hidden it from him. Its face resembled exposed muscle, with only empty holes where its eyes and nose should have been. It didn’t babble or fuss, either, so that probably meant it had no ears. He wasn’t even certain if the opening near its chin counted as a mouth. And suddenly, Kaname realized he should have put things together much sooner about why that baby wriggled like a worm instead of crawling on its arms and legs.

“What is keeping that child alive?” he cried out before he could stop himself. Was it even human, or had something possessed Jukai to expand his practice to yokai? No wonder he believed it was abandoned.

The older man looked momentarily stricken, cradling the little creature to his chest as he forced his expression back into neutral. “I do not know, myself,” he answered. “I don’t know if he was born this way, or if this was something done to him after, but he’s certainly got a strong spirit. He’s survived a remarkably long time for everything he’s missing, but…”

A remarkably long time. Kaname swallowed. “How…how long have you had him?”

“I found him not long after you left,” he said quietly. “He’s been with me for over a year now.”

It couldn’t be easy, having to take care of someone so small and missing so much while working. What made someone like him decide to do something like that? It would take his focus away from his patients, and wasn’t that why he kept living? Though it didn’t make sense to do so if he thought he could never atone…

But then the baby—Hyakkimaru?—squirmed in Jukai’s arms, almost like he was trying to get a better look at him, if Kaname wasn’t certain he was blind. Something in that reminded him of a little boy with no leg and no will to live who somehow survived long enough to be found. If this child wanted to live, why did it deserve that any less than he had?

“I…encountered a lot of people I wasn’t able to help. They needed more than I knew how to do,” he said, feeling his pride fighting the words that came up, words he hadn't planned to say. “And…between this child and your patients, you’ll certainly have your hands full.” He forced himself to his knees, bringing his forehead low to the ground. “If you’ll have me, I want to finish learning your craft. I don’t want to walk away from people I should have been able to help. Please…”

He was interrupted by a hand reaching for him as Jukai kneeled, still balancing Hyakkimaru against him. “There’s no need to be so contrite,” he said. “I know what I’ve done, and you have every right to hate me for it. But if you want to continue learning from me, then I will not stop you.”

In that moment, Kaname couldn’t bring himself to accept the offered hand, but even so, he stood and gave a firm nod. He wouldn't say it was good to be back, but at least it was not as detestable as the idea had been before.

Chapter Text

If he had expected to find any answers within the first few weeks, Kaname would have found himself sorely disappointed. Actually, the main reason he wasn’t was probably because he barely had time to think at all. Even without limbs, Hyakkimaru was more than a handful for both of them, inching himself around like an overactive earthworm, constantly trying to get into anything that was left where he could reach it.

He was much faster than he should have been, both for his size and for someone who didn’t have legs to run on or arms to drag themselves with. Especially since he still couldn’t keep his head up without help. How did he manage to get to some of those things, anyway? He shouldn’t have been able to get upright to get them. And because he didn’t talk or babble or make any sound, the only way to know what he was getting into was by watching him. He didn’t seem to hear them, but he had somehow figured out that if he flipped his tub over, it would alert them to what he had done. At times, Kaname wondered just what Hyakkimaru thought the basin did that alerted them.

But his discovery only led to more anxiety for the two of them. They had both watched him launch himself sideways out of it in a way that not only avoided the edges, but probably shouldn’t have been possible for him to do without hurting himself.

Putting him back in his tub only made him more likely to do it again.

“I suppose it was inevitable,” Jukai sighed, running a hand over his face. “He’s a growing child. He’s going to want to explore.”

Kaname couldn’t disagree with that, even if some contrary part of him wanted to. Jukai had said he’d been around for over a year, which was long enough for anyone to get bored with sitting still. If he’d already been bored with it when Kaname arrived, why would he suddenly decide to go back to being still?

Even then, he had to wonder if it didn’t hurt the child, dragging himself along with no arms, legs, or skin. He considered bringing it up to Jukai, but he was fairly certain he didn’t want the answer he would give him.

The fact of the matter was, Hyakkimaru couldn’t keep flipping his tub and launching himself.

Of course, the simple solution was to let him have some time to crawl around. Jukai would work while Kaname watched the little worm baby inching around on the floor, making sure he didn’t launch himself into the fire or try to put his mouth on something sharp. They kept most of the tools up where Hyakkimaru shouldn’t have been able to reach them, but all too often, he ended up far too close to something he shouldn’t have been able to find in the first place.

Sometimes, it was Jukai who would watch Hyakkimaru, while Kaname would work. Jukai would give him an assignment, and he’d set to crafting it or going to collect the materials while the older man would take Hyakkimaru outside. He knew what he did during that time—several times, he’d finished or otherwise had to step out and seen Jukai carrying Hyakkimaru over to the wood pile, or to the nearby plants or stream, quietly explaining what everything was.

Though he would squirm and turn his head towards some, or bury his face against him with others, Hyakkimaru never quite reacted to anything Jukai told him. Kaname wondered if he knew that Hyakkimaru probably couldn’t hear him. Why did he keep talking to him as if he could?

And then sometimes, one or both of them would turn towards Kaname, and he would quickly turn as if he was only just passing through, instead of watching them.

As far as he could tell, Jukai never actually sat him down to crawl outside, but he could never quite stop the bundle of nerves that worked their way into his throat whenever he was out of his line of sight. He wouldn’t kill a baby he had kept alive for more than a year. He might have been a monster, but he wasn’t that guard, standing over that woman and telling her to be grateful he didn’t kill her on the spot.

He wondered if she’d ever succeeded in killing him, or if, like with Kaname and Jukai, something held her back.

What makes you any different from that? he still found himself wanting to ask. But if he still wouldn’t answer why he didn’t strike him down, he probably wasn’t going to answer that either.

What would he have done, if Kaname had returned to kill him? Would he have pled with him to let him raise the child? Made him swear he would do it in his place?

He swallowed back that question, too, passing a wriggling Hyakkimaru to him. It still worried him, trying to clean him when he had no skin. Jukai would coax him into drinking something before beginning, but it never seemed to stop him from squirming once they began.

“Doesn’t that hurt him?” he asked instead.

Jukai paused for a moment. “Perhaps it does,” he answered, regret tinging through his voice. “Perhaps he simply has no way to tell us. But I can’t give him any more than this. At his size and in his condition…”

Even though some petulant part of him wanted to argue to that, Kaname simply nodded, letting Jukai finish with Hyakkimaru, carefully dabbing the excess water away before wrapping him back in his blanket. He sat there with him for a moment, quietly soothing and rocking him in his arms. “It’s all right, Hyakkimaru. It’s over now…”

Sometimes, he would whisper the reasons why they had him soak. It didn’t do any good, not when he couldn’t hear them. Yet Jukai must have felt it did something for him, otherwise it wouldn’t have made sense to do.

Perhaps he had simply started talking out of…loneliness? Grief? Kaname wasn’t sure. He had never been particularly talkative before, but perhaps there was something to it.

As he passed Hyakkimaru back to Kaname, and turned to work, there was a faraway look in his eyes. Even after a year and a half away, he could never have forgotten what that meant. Either he was remembering something, or he was preparing to start on a project.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to make a set of limbs for Hyakkimaru,” Jukai told him one evening. “I want him to be able to go outside without one of us carrying him.”

Kaname could already imagine what he would get into once he had the extra height from his legs, and arms that could grasp things. A lot of that would probably find its way into his mouth, too. Still, it wouldn’t have been fair to keep him limbless over that. And with hands, maybe he’d be able to communicate in ways that didn’t involve flipping tubs and launching himself at things.

“He’ll have to have something to cover his body, of course,” Jukai continued. “But we might be able to use bandages for that. His face will be more of a challenge, since he’ll need to be able to breathe and feed himself…”

“Then I’ll be watching him during that time,” Kaname spoke up, shaking him out of his thoughts.

Jukai paused, almost as if he hadn’t realized he had spoken to him. “Of course,” he finally said.

It wasn’t that he minded. Not really. For the most part, Hyakkimaru had calmed down somewhat since he’d started getting to go outside regularly, and he would let Kaname hold him, rather than squirming in his arms. Having time when he knew he’d get to crawl probably helped as well. He’d started to learn where he could go and which things would get him snatched up—though sometimes Kaname thought he went towards those on purpose when he wanted up. He was still fairly certain he’d start getting into things again once he could reach them, but that wouldn’t be an issue while his limbs were being made. Besides, it wasn’t like Kaname himself had stayed out of trouble when he’d been that age.

He had no problem watching him while his limbs were constructed. Still, there were other concerns besides watching Hyakkimaru.

“What about your patients?”

“I will continue to visit them as usual.” They had been fewer, Kaname learned, since he had taken in Hyakkimaru. Part of this was because of the workload, of course. It would have been much harder to tend to the number of patients he’d had before while caring for a newborn. That had changed somewhat since Kaname had returned, since he was able to look after him, to make sure he ate, slept, and stayed out of trouble.

But he also noticed patients rarely came to Jukai’s door anymore. Far more often, he would set out into the village. Of course, this was also in part because he was now caring for a skinless toddler and didn’t want to expose him either to illness or to scrutiny.

Part of it could also have been the season, he thought. It wasn’t quite time to harvest. There would be fewer accidents, maybe fewer encounters between peasants and samurai since they wouldn’t be coming to collect. There had always been periods where there were fewer patients than others. There was nothing unusual about this.

Except…it had been this way since Kaname had returned. He hadn't even run into anyone looking for Jukai on his way back. Which probably meant it had been that way for awhile.

Had something happened? Kaname hadn’t told anyone what he knew, but the woman who had told him initially had said something about not believing rumors. She likely wasn’t the first who had heard. Who had told her, then? Or had it even been anything to do with that?

There was something he wasn’t telling him. But if Jukai wasn’t volunteering that information, a part of him was almost afraid to know.

In some ways, Hyakkimaru was lucky, not having to think of much besides where he would crawl and what things he could fit into his mouth. He didn’t have to know about wars or sit and wonder what kind of hypocrite he was, living with someone who had killed his parents.

Though Kaname didn’t envy the rest of his situation, he thought as he tilted the dish and let him drink. His teeth had come in long before he had returned, but he still needed help to sit upright. They had started giving him small bites of simple foods, and he swallowed more of them than he spat out. If all else failed, at least he could still cough, but it still made Kaname far more nervous than he should have been.

On top of that, there was the question of how Jukai had found him. In a boat, abandoned. No eyes, ears, limbs, skin… He’d considered the possibility that someone had done that to him, intentionally. Which was—he supposed he could believe it. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t seen horrible things done before. But what purpose would it have served to—?

Hyakkimaru shifted in his arms, nearly making him spill the last of his meal. “Ah, had enough?” he whispered, setting the dish beside them and turning him to rest against his shoulder.

He didn’t talk to him to the extent Jukai did. He didn’t entirely see the point when he couldn’t hear it. Still, there were times when he would say something without even thinking about it, a growing habit which he was almost certain was Jukai’s fault but which he couldn’t exactly blame him for. There was something almost…oddly comforting about Hyakkimaru’s silence, at least when he was where they could see him.

“When you’re done, would you bring him over to me?” Kaname jumped and Hyakkimaru gave the tiniest jolt in response.

Of course, Jukai was still there. It wasn’t like he would be anywhere else, what with how often he was working on Hyakkimaru’s body.

“You’re taking more measurements?” he asked, shuddering as Hyakkimaru settled back down, skinless forehead pressing against the side of his neck. Every instinct told him that feeling meant something was wrong. But for Hyakkimaru, he reminded himself, it was always like this. Nothing was wrong. Kaname took a breath and let it out, running his hand over the blanket covering his back, patting him softly.

Jukai nodded. “It’s the connections which are giving me trouble. I haven’t made prosthetics for someone his size before.” He could almost hear the unspoken statement below that. I had hoped I would never have to.

His proportions, he had largely figured out. At least, that was how it seemed from where Kaname was standing. The main question was how to create attachments which would secure them to his limbs, while not weighing him down to the point that he couldn’t move them.

As he worked, Hyakkimaru turned his head to follow his hands and his tools. Suddenly, in a motion that really shouldn’t have been possible, he twisted, clamping his mouth over the end of the measuring tool.

Jukai’s surprise gave way to a soft chuckle before he moved to take it from him. “Hyakkimaru, I know for a fact you’ve just eaten,” he said, trying to coax him to open his mouth and release it. “But I suppose this must be tedious for you, isn’t it?”

Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? He was having to lie still and let himself be turned and prodded, losing time he could have been crawling or being held, or even sleeping. He probably didn’t understand what was happening or why he kept having to do this. At his age, he couldn’t be expected to.

He would probably enjoy getting to move and run once he was able to. That was probably the only thing keeping Kaname from being far more uncomfortable with this than he really had any right to be.

What was it about it that bothered him, even? The fact that Jukai was the one making the prosthetics? The fact that he was so much younger than any of his other patients had been? Clearly, he wanted to explore more. What was wrong with giving him the means to do it?

He shook himself out of his thoughts just in time to see Hyakkimaru turn his head to one side, almost staring at him, going still. For a moment, he wondered if he really was looking at him, even though he could see the empty holes where his eyes should have been.

And in that moment, Jukai managed to sweep a finger between his skinless lips, parting his teeth just enough to remove the object. “There now,” he said quietly. “You’re almost finished.”

Almost didn't mean anything when he probably wanted to be done now. This time, Kaname thought, steeling himself, when Hyakkimaru tried to nestle into the side of his neck, he wouldn’t shudder at the feeling.

Chapter Text

The actual surgery was significantly more anxiety-inducing than Kaname ever would have thought to expect. It wasn’t even the idea of giving anesthetics to a baby. That, he was oddly fine with. Since the medicinal herbs for pain relief didn’t seem to work at the doses he could have, he would much rather he be unconscious for this.

No, the thing that bothered him was the fact that he had somehow gone at least a month passing Hyakkimaru to Jukai, watching him take measurements and test-fit limbs, nose, ears, mask, and then taking him back, without realizing that apparently Jukai had made a prosthetic spine to put in his back. Though it certainly explained the difficulties he had keeping his head up, as well as some of the strange angles he twisted himself into.

At the same time, he had so many more questions because of it that it was probably better just not to think of them. And so he worked, passing Jukai the materials he asked for, holding where he told him to, wiping the area down when he said to.

He couldn’t have said how long they worked for. Only that when they had finished, the tiny, skinless baby who had still fit into his wooden tub at two years old lay covered in bandages, tiny prosthetics attached at the stumps where his limbs should have grown, false nose, ears, and eyes attached to his face.

He was honestly a bit surprised Hyakkimaru had remained unconscious through the whole thing.

The mask, Jukai said, they would attach once he was awake. Though he had fitted it to him several times over the course of his planning and crafting, he still wanted to make sure he would be able to breathe through it. Which made sense. It wouldn’t do to have kept him alive two years and given him limbs just to suffocate him before he ever got to use them.

It wouldn’t be fair for him to have fought so hard to survive just for that to happen. So they moved him to a mat, covered him with his blanket, cleaned up the surgical supplies, and waited.

While they waited, Jukai explained what would happen next. “Hyakkimaru likely won’t be able to get up and move on his own for awhile. The way he has to move will change as well, and he may not be able to do some of what he could before.” He paused, glancing to the child. “At least, not in the way he could before.”

“He’s not going to like that,” Kaname couldn’t help observing.

“No, I don’t imagine he will.” Of course not. Why on earth would he have expected him to answer any differently. “It’s going to be a weight on him which he isn’t used to, and he may not even understand why he needs them or what to do with them.”

Once it became clear nothing had gone wrong or would go wrong, Jukai explained, he planned to start working with Hyakkimaru, leading him through exercises which would hopefully teach him how to use his new limbs, as well as help him to build the strength to use them. He had wanted to explain this to Kaname in advance so that he would understand what each one was for, and to allow him to shadow him if he chose to learn them.

Would he choose to learn them? He wasn’t entirely sure. There was no real reason not to, he told himself. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been training with him since his return. Hell, even if it was anything to do with Hyakkimaru himself, he’d even helped him perform surgery on him not twelve hours ago. So really, what was his issue with it?

In the end, he wasn’t able to give Jukai an answer, even to say he would consider it. A part of him almost wished he would be just a little less understanding of that. 

Hyakkimaru slept a lot in those first few days. It was to be expected, of course, but it was still almost too sharp of a contrast with the way he had been before. He would lie there, chest rising and falling, his old blanket draped over him, now that he was just a bit too big to be swaddled in it.  From what they could tell, it seemed that it calmed him down, and Kaname was starting to recognize some of his cues.

If he was anxious, he’d grow stiffer. This was the main one he had learned. Before his surgery, there had been moments when he was crawling, and would go completely still. It had almost never taken Jukai long to scoop him up and rock him when this happened, and he would gradually untense his body as he held him. Sometimes, he had even stiffened in Kaname’s grasp, especially early on. Which…made sense, disheartening as it had been. He hadn’t known him. He probably hadn’t known anyone aside from Jukai. Maybe he hadn’t even known anyone else existed—or maybe some part of him associated others with whoever had hurt him so badly as a newborn, and Jukai was the only one who had proven himself safe.

But since then, he had let him feed him and hold him, even resting against him. He liked to think this meant he had also proven himself. Though, looking at the little body in front of him, chest rising and falling, false eyes staring straight ahead even though he was asleep, he couldn’t help but worry. Would he think this was the same as what had happened before?

Jukai must have worried about it, too. He kept checking Hyakkimaru for nearly two weeks before he started working with him on anything noticeable. At first, it was just simple exercises, making sure he could still turn his head without any obvious signs of pain, so there might have been other things he simply wasn’t noticing, or perhaps he simply sat with him, carefully sitting him up to feed him or clean him up. Sometimes, he noticed him moving his hands to close them around his own fingers, or some other small object.

For his part, Kaname tried to keep as much of what he had done the same as before. Much of it was impossible, of course. Sleeping so much meant he didn’t crawl as often, and even when he had the chance, he hadn’t figured out how to use his new limbs, and mostly turned his head to watch whatever was happening around him.

But with how much he was sleeping lately, a part of him had wondered if Jukai wasn’t pushing him too quickly. It took him awhile to voice this, perhaps longer than he should have needed, but he had finally asked, “How do you know when he’s ready to work on things?”

At that moment, Hyakkimaru had his hands wound around Jukai’s, and was struggling to pull himself up. It was supposed to help his neck and shoulder muscles, he was fairly certain. When he had inched along before, he hadn’t used the stumps of his arms and legs. Wrapped in a blanket, there hadn’t been much reason to do so.

Jukai thought for a moment, not looking up from Hyakkimaru. “I don’t know that I would say I know as much as I assume based on his movements.” He shrugged a shoulder to indicate him, and the child stiffened at the sudden motion, earning a quick apology which he couldn’t hear, but which made him relax even so. While Jukai may have been the one to bend his fingers for him, he explained, Hyakkimaru had started doing what could almost be described as a weak shrugging motion. “I’m not sure if he was trying to move his arms, or only exploring their connection to his own body.”

For the time being, he planned to build his exercises on each other. Once he could hold his head up, pull himself up, and sit unassisted, they might move onto other things—having him grip and bring food to his own mouth, perhaps, or pulling himself to his feet. Though he might have to build the muscles in his hips and what existed of his thighs first…

“And how do you know you aren’t pushing him too hard?” Kaname asked, not trying to accuse him (though he wasn’t sure it had come across) but genuinely wanting to know.

That, it seemed, was much easier for him to answer. “When he doesn’t want to do it, he simply doesn’t do it. If he’s tired, he stops.”

As if on-cue, Hyakkimaru dropped back to the floor, squirming until he managed to loosen his grip and his arms flopped down with a clack on either side of his head. Even though he couldn’t emote with his mask, (and hadn’t had obvious facial expressions before, for that matter) he almost managed to look annoyed as he lay there, staring up at them.

“Yes,” Jukai smiled, “I suppose that’s enough for today.”

Though Kaname hadn’t quite become an active part of Hyakkimaru’s exercises, and Jukai wasn’t actively explaining them to him most of the time, he still found himself learning of what was going on.

Part of it was just that he was in the room, and it wasn’t like he could avoid it even if he’d really wanted to. If he was working on an assignment while Jukai worked with Hyakkimaru, whether it was lifting himself or sitting up or learning to kick his legs, he would probably hear it.

But it often had less to do with the exercises he did with Jukai, and more with what he did on his own time. He still slept more than he had before his surgery, but somewhere in there, he had either worked with Jukai or figured out on his own how to flip himself over. At first, he still tried to inch along and drag himself by his face, but this would knock his mask off, or at least bump it crooked, which often stopped him from trying to move.

There were times when Kaname watched him test out his alternatives, first rolling along the ground, then slowly figuring out how to push himself up. The first time he had done this, he must have managed to stress himself out. He froze, looking around almost frantically before crashing back down, lying almost completely still until both Jukai and Kaname had rushed over.

It was a bit of a struggle for Jukai to pick him up, largely because he had gone stiff and was much longer than before he had limbs, and it had taken a bit of time before Hyakkimaru had fully relaxed in his arms.

Whatever had scared him that first time, though, it didn’t stop him from trying again. Though he was still stiff as he pushed himself up, and it seemed like he always had to check to make sure Jukai and Kaname were around, he still worked himself into his crawling position. Then slowly, from there, he would move a hand forward, a jerky, almost clumsy motion, and then he would bring the other one to match. At first, he dragged his legs behind him, rather than moving them to match his arms, but gradually, he figured it out.

And then promptly bumped into the work table. And then the wall. And Kaname was almost certain his heart would thump right out of his chest, if Jukai’s didn’t first. But it didn’t seem to faze Hyakkimaru, and neither of them could tell if that was good or bad.

What had been much more of a surprise was how quickly he started attempting to walk after that. On the one hand, Kaname had watched him pull himself up by Jukai’s hands. He’d even reached for Kaname a few times, wanting to use him to pull himself up and balance on (at least, that was what he assumed based on what he wound up doing).

On the other hand, it had taken so long for him to get comfortable with crawling, he’d assumed it would be the same with walking. Yet there he was, grabbing onto Jukai or Kaname or anything else he could get his hands on (often regardless of whether it could actually support his weight) and pulling himself to a standing position, wobbling on his legs and sometimes visibly struggling not to go stiff.

The first few times, that was all he did before he was back to crawling.

But then, he started staying up for longer and longer, not necessarily moving, or even trying to. Just standing there, looking around, then plunking back down and going right back to crawling over to the nearest thing that interested him.

Sometimes, he would try to grip something. He was still learning how to use those little hands, and hadn’t quite gotten the hang of using both the fingers and the thumb just yet, let alone using them separately. More often, what happened was that he would try to trap things between his hands, trying to press it upwards until he could properly shovel it up.

(If he managed to do that, it usually wasn’t long before it found his mouth. Well, at least there wasn’t any question as to whether he could eat and breathe with it on.)

Still, he continued pushing himself up onto wobbly little legs, continued standing and looking around. And then one day, right at the point he would usually have plunked down, there was a soft tap instead.

Jukai and Kaname looked up just in time to see him attempt a second step and fall flat on his face. But before either of them could get to him, he was pushing himself back to his feet, holding his hands out to keep himself balanced. Briefly, Kaname wondered if that was something Jukai had taught him to do, something Hyakkimaru had figured out on his own, or something he’d done without even realizing he was doing it.

Before he could think too deeply on it, however, Hyakkimaru lifted his wooden foot, and then hastily sat it down a little farther than it had been. This time, instead of picking up his right foot, he dragged it forwards a little at a time, taking a much smaller step with that one. Step with the left foot, drag the right, then tiny step.

Step with the left.

Drag, then baby step.

Step with the left.

Drag, then—he took a larger step with his right foot, trying to match what he was doing with his left, and then slipped and fell again.

Just like before, he was right back up. But this time, he took tinier steps with both feet, barely lifting them off the ground, pausing between each one. Wobbling, then pressing on.

At that moment, Kaname realized where he was heading. Right towards Jukai.

It wasn’t like he could even be mad about it, not when he’d known him for over a year before he had returned. That was just the way babies were, at least in his experience. So he swallowed that tiny lump of jealousy—after all, these were his first steps, and he hadn’t known if he would ever see that happen, if Hyakkimaru would end up walking or if he would be in the room when he tried it. At least he was still getting to see.

Jukai opened his arms, closing the gap between them only marginally, and Kaname could at least appreciate that much. He was almost certain Hyakkimaru would prefer to finish what he started himself, and wouldn’t have appreciated suddenly being swooped up in the middle of his practice.

He fell several times more before he reached him, pushing off almost like he was falling and decided to launch himself near the end—which fortunately, sent him right into Jukai’s waiting arms as he caught him and pulled him to his chest, and Kaname nearly jumped at the laugh that shook through him. It wasn’t a hearty laugh, not even close. It was just that…he couldn’t remember the last time he had ever heard him laugh, if he had ever heard it even before.

Swallowing back a small, bitter, not that he would ever have had reason to, Kaname instead focused on the child in his arms, on tiny, almost birdlike limbs and short, fuzzy black hair that stuck out around the edges of his mask.

Congratulations, little worm baby, he thought. You’ve finally managed it.

Though, in that moment, a second thought shot through him. Now that Hyakkimaru could walk, would he have to stop calling him that?

Chapter Text

While he didn’t immediately start toddling into everything and reaching for everything as Kaname had feared he would, Hyakkimaru definitely had ideas about what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go. His own steps were still tiny, wobbly little things, but he had learned that if he held onto something else, he could balance himself much more easily. This was almost double if he had someone else’s hands, since he could bring them with him instead of having to stick next to things that couldn’t follow.

Many times, where he wanted to go was right up to whichever of them was working, and much of that time, he wanted the other person to balance him there. Kaname might be drafting something out, or even carving into a prosthetic, and then he would hear the little patter of wooden feet coming closer. The next thing he knew, Hyakkimaru was right there, hanging off of Jukai’s fingers.

And sometimes, before either of them realized what he was doing, he would drop from his grip, little hands slapping down on the work table, and he would grab hold of Kaname’s fingers, trying to pull them closer or feel the limbs he was working on or the tools he was working with.

Which, of course, often meant that it was going into his mouth. Jukai had gotten surprisingly good at realizing when he was going to try it and stopping him, placing a firm hand over his and turning them to move over it instead. Most of the time, he wouldn’t fight him on that. If he did, they had learned, it usually meant he needed feeding.

But most of the time, he wouldn’t fight once it was clear the objects on the work table were not for biting. He was even beginning to go straight to running his hands over them. At times, he would clumsily reach for Kaname’s hands, manipulating them to slap along the arm or leg and then looking expectantly (well, sort of—he couldn’t emote through his mask) until he would copy the motion.

This slowly progressed into Hyakkimaru rubbing his hands along the prosthetics, and then reaching for the hand that held a tool, trying to knock them against each other. But he struggled to aim it, and often ended up hitting the table or making Jukai or Kaname jerk their hand in order to avoid his hitting himself by mistake, which almost always made him jump regardless of how often he did it.

“I know it won’t…I know it won’t hurt him,” Kaname said. It wouldn't. Not when he was only cracking wood, rather than skin. “But…”

“Mm,” Jukai nodded. “It doesn’t make it any easier to watch.”

Jukai usually didn’t let Hyakkimaru go on too long with this before he would encourage him to find something else to explore, which usually meant outside. “Come, Hyakkimaru,” he said, using a hand on his back to turn him towards the door. “Let’s give Kaname some time to do his work.”

And Hyakkimaru would usually plunk whatever he’d grabbed back down before taking Jukai’s hands and allowing himself to be motored towards the door. More likely than not, he was taking him back around to everything he had seen before. Or at least part of it. Hyakkimaru hadn’t quite built up the stamina to go around towards everything, and Kaname suspected they only got to one or two places before he would start stumbling or plop down on the ground and refuse to move.

Jukai would reenter with Hyakkimaru sagging against his chest, limbs dangling as he slept, and he would lay him down on a mat and cover him with that slightly too-small blanket of his.

When he woke up, there was a decent chance he would want to do it all again, though sometimes, he was content to crawl, or practice his own uneven, unaided steps. 

One day, though, as Kaname finished his practice for the afternoon, it had been raining. Which, at the time, he hadn’t thought too much of. As he turned the leg over, preparing himself to hand it off to Jukai to evaluate, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder when his would be good enough to attach to a person.

It would be better if no one ever had to use it, of course, he thought as his mind drifted to the people farther away. If samurai stopped picking fights and cutting off limbs…

But then, there would still be accidents. Farmers who ended up on the wrong ends of their tools, people who couldn’t stop working or traveling and suffered frostbite, or who were infected and needed a limb amputated.

And it wouldn’t fix the injuries the samurai had already given.

Kaname shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing he was rubbing at the joint of his own crude leg. Jukai had offered to replace it, of course, but Kaname had been unable to accept. This time, I want it to be my own salvation, he had said, leaving the not yours unspoken. In hindsight, it was better that he’d said it this way. He could never atone for what he had done. But there was no need to rub it in his face.

Naturally, Hyakkimaru picked that moment to crash into his side, flop down, and throw his legs into his lap.

“What are you…?” Kaname stammered. What was this kid even thinking?

“Hyakkimaru…” Jukai started to call, then paused. “Ah.” He gave a slight smile. “He wants you to do his motion exercise.”

That made sense, some part of him thought, but out loud, he could only sputter more. “I haven’t done those with him!” How did he expect him to know what to do?

“Take his ankles in your hands. He might be able to show you.” To his credit, Jukai managed not to sound overly amused by the whole thing.

Kaname felt his eyebrow raise, but he did so nonetheless, staring down at Hyakkimaru’s expressionless face. Strange, he almost found himself looking for the skinless, nearly featureless one he’d had before. But sure enough, once he realized there were hands on both his ankles, Hyakkimaru began moving his legs in a slow, exaggerated walking motion, as if he was wading through a swamp or a patch of tall grass. It was kind of a strange feeling, being led by a toddler in things he himself probably should have trained in. Not only that, it was almost as if he was watching him, whether to see how he was doing, or perhaps even wondering what he thought of it. Even without eyes, he could feel it.

Was Jukai able to feel it, too? Perhaps he would have to ask about it, one of these days.

That evening, he decided to speak with Jukai about what Hyakkimaru had done.

“I want him to teach me his exercises. The way he did today.” Whatever reservations he might have had about them before, it was time he swallowed his pride and learned them. Suppose something like this happened to someone else? Would he say he hadn’t learned it even though the opportunity was right in front of him? Even if some part of him still protested, hypocrite. Would it really be that bad? Even if he learned it from a baby instead of…

But then, he could feel his heart thumping as he presented the idea. Was he really so afraid he would tell him he couldn’t? After all, he was the one who said Hyakkimaru could teach him his floor-walking exercise. Why would the rest of them be any different?

“If you need to watch,” he continued, almost desperate to convince him, “to make sure I’m not doing them wrong and hurting him, then…”

“Of course,” Jukai answered, just a bit too easily to sound anything but forced.

It wasn’t like Kaname was going to question that. Not right now, anyway. Later, when he trusted himself not to wind himself up or end up going back through all the same questions he’d had before.

Of his exercises, Hyakkimaru had some obvious favorites. It didn’t take long before he noticed that almost all of them were based around walking—that first one he’d showed him, the ones around kicking, the ones where he would hold his hands and step or pull himself up and then balance. If he tried to make him do one of the others, there was a good chance he would refuse to do it, or else he would do it for only a moment or two before he could feel him go slack and stop trying.

There were times when he thought of asking Jukai. Should I try to make him do them? But then…was that even an issue when Hyakkimaru was pretty much treating his sessions with Kaname like his playtime?

As he watched them, Jukai would occasionally offer some critique, usually something about his form, like if he had his leg at too sharp of an angle and might overstretch him, or else he explained what the exercise was supposed to do for him. But he’d never made any comment when Hyakkimaru refused to do something. Perhaps Jukai also saw this as some kind of playtime for him, considering how he was roped into it in the first place.

So then maybe it was best not to say anything. At least, not until Hyakkimaru grabbed his hands, pulled himself up, and immediately started toddling them both towards the door.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” Not the most articulate of responses, but it was all he could think of in the moment. “Jukai, is this—?”

Jukai merely nodded, as if he didn’t trust himself not to laugh at this whole situation.

By that point, Hyakkimaru was trying to paw the door open, but not having much luck. He was still having some trouble figuring out how to work his new fingers, particularly with only the thumb and index finger articulated, and even then the door was much bigger than him.

Kaname knelt down behind him, carefully taking his little hand in his own and moving it with him. As he slid the door open, Hyakkimaru jumped, stumbling backwards and bumping into him.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted it to do?” he laughed softly. Maybe he thought it was stuck when he couldn’t get it.

But the second the door was opened, he had latched back onto his hands and started pulling him out into the grass, turning to look in every direction before taking them over towards the wood pile. Once they had reached it, he squirmed to dislodge his hands, slapping them down on the highest log.

From there, Kaname watched as Hyakkimaru smacked his hands along them, occasionally trying to push one or clap it between his hands and pull. When none of them would budge, he turned back towards him, reaching for his hand again.

Assuming he wanted to walk elsewhere, Kaname offered it to him, palm up. And watched as he took it, turned it palm down, and began to pat it along the log, looking back at him every so often. So then, did he want to pick it up and take it inside?

Kaname took his other hand, intending to lift a smaller one and push it into the boy’s tiny arms. But in an instant, Hyakkimaru had put his hand on his, pushing it away and continuing to make him feel along the log, still checking back every now and then. What was he trying to say?

He heard heavier footsteps approaching. “Is this what you do with him?” he asked.

“Ah.” He didn’t even have to turn around to hear the smile in his voice. “I think he’s teaching you about the firewood.”

“Is that so?” His question was directed to Hyakkimaru more than to him, even if he wouldn’t answer it.

Almost as if on-cue, Hyakkimaru reached forward and gave one last shove to the log on top, nearly jumping out of his makeshift skin when several came tumbling down and Kaname swept him up to avoid any knocking him.

“Didn’t know your own strength, did you?” he laughed as he buried his face against his neck, slowly reaching to wrap his arms around him.

“Ah, Hyakkimaru.” Jukai reached up, lightly ruffling the child’s hair before kneeling beside the mess. “Did that startle you? Don’t worry. It’s not going to hurt you.”

As he spoke, he began to rearrange the pile, not stacking it up quite like before, but at least making it less of a scattered heap. Not wanting to stand and gawk, Kaname shifted Hyakkimaru onto his hip, feeling him cling tighter in response, and then knelt down to help.

Chapter Text

As Hyakkimaru continued to grow, Jukai continued working with him, teaching him to hold things, to build on the way he shoveled them up, get him using his fingers separate from his thumb, working him up to feeding himself. At this point, he could bring things to his mouth (not that they needed his sessions to know that) and eat the food he was given without choking on it.

Using things to eat with, however, was another story. Part of it was that he still only had his forefinger and thumb, of course. Jukai was constantly experimenting to see how he could make a full set of fingers, but for the time being, he wasn't having much luck. The other part of it was also just learning to translate his own movements into the use of those two fingers.

Through trial and error, they quickly learned that chopsticks were out of the question. Which, at his age, was probably to be expected regardless of how his fingers were shaped. (Granted, Kaname couldn't remember whether he had been able to at that age) But he could use a wooden spoon, first with aid, and then, slowly but surely, on his own.

It was going to be strange, no longer removing his mask and tilting a dish for him to drink out of, or holding a spoon to his lips whenever he needed fed. But perhaps he would get used to it in time—even though he still looked for Hyakkimaru’s skinless face from time to time, he had at least gotten to where he no longer had to think about how the masked child was that same Hyakkimaru. His feeding himself would be the same as that. Wouldn’t it?

He had started walking unassisted, too. Even running at times. Though, if he wanted to show them something, he would almost always want to take their hands as he had done before.

More recently than that, he had started grabbing things and trying to swing from them. Sometimes this was Jukai or Kaname’s arms, but sometimes, it was something else which wasn’t made to support his weight, and he would come crashing down, taking any number of things with him.

“Hyakkimaru!” Jukai would cry out, scrambling to sit him up and check him over, looking to see if his prosthetics had splintered (which sometimes happened, since his were so small) or he had otherwise hurt himself.

What was more concerning was that he didn’t seem to notice that those kinds of falls usually hurt. Sometimes he would startle and stiffen, but that usually meant he was scared moreso than hurt. Sometimes, he would even start squirming to get back to what he had been doing even as he was being checked on.

The more he thought about it, Hyakkimaru had always been that way. When he would crawl into the table or the wall, or even before that, when he would flip himself out of his wooden tub and drag himself by his face. The only time he really showed any signs that it bothered him was when he had to soak to be cleaned.

“Perhaps he’s gotten used to feeling some degree of pain all the time,” Jukai speculated, “with no skin and something always pressing against it.”

The water might have been the only sensation different enough to set him off. The thought was enough to make Kaname hold out his hands for him and cradle that tiny body close to him.

And sometimes, Hyakkimaru would nestle against him and let him. Other times, he would decide that right then was the best time to do his jumping exercises, which had bruised him more than a few times, and which he probably should have gotten better at anticipating by now.

But the most terrifying moment in his life, or at least one that ranked pretty high on his list, happened when Hyakkimaru was about four years old. Jukai had been preparing some food, and had asked Kaname if he would see if there was anything else he could pull from the garden.

It should have been fine. Jukai was watching Hyakkimaru, who was mostly dangling from his arm, watching him in that odd way he always seemed to.

There wasn’t even much of anything to pull, so it wasn’t like he was gone long.

But as he had come back into the hut, he froze at the sight of Jukai, kneeling down and cradling a near-still Hyakkimaru. The smell of burnt hair and fabric pierced his nostrils, and he could see the last smoldering remains of something that had dropped into the fire.

“What did—what happened? Is he all right?” What did you let him do?

Jukai barely seemed to register him, inhaling and exhaling several times as he struggled to even out his own breathing. When he finally found his voice, it was hoarse and shaking. “I don’t think Hyakkimaru can feel pain.”

“What!?” For a split second, Kaname’s hands went numb. “What happened?”

Jukai took another deep breath, running his hand over Hyakkimaru’s hair, and the child in turn leaned his head against his neck. Not feeling pain? That wasn’t possible. He reached for things to feel them, he responded when they took his hands or lifted him up, he still writhed around in the bath and napped for the better part of days whenever his spine and limbs were replaced. If he couldn’t feel pain…

“Hyakkimaru must have wanted to help. I should have stopped him, I…I didn’t see what happened until he had reached into the fire…” He didn’t look at him, body nearly rigid as he spoke. Was he expecting Kaname wouldn’t believe him? Even he had seen how fast Hyakkimaru could be—it was part of why he needed one of them to watch him all the time. “He didn’t seem to realize he was on fire. When I beat the flames off of him, he didn’t even flinch.”

“But…how…?” Kaname’s head was spinning. He needed to sit down.

The effort was more of a stumble that just happened to land him in a sitting position.

“But he feels it when you pick him up or…” He’s responding to you right now!

“It…must be different, somehow…” Jukai sat up, still holding Hyakkimaru. He had turned slightly, just enough that Kaname could see the scorched patches on his arm and tunic.

They were so lucky it hadn’t been worse. They knew he couldn’t scream, but they had at least thought he would recoil…if he couldn’t even feel it, it would be so easy for something to happen that would kill him, and they wouldn’t even know until…

It all made far too much sense. Why he had seemed fine dragging himself by the face and twisting himself around as a baby. Why he never seemed to notice when he bumped into things and why he always startled when they stopped him from beaning himself with the tools—even why some of the medicinal herbs never seemed to work on him.

Hyakkimaru had shifted, almost looking at him, and he forced himself to breathe.

“Kaname…” Jukai hesitated to reach for him, not wanting to take his hand off of Hyakkimaru, but more than that… It almost looked like he was afraid of hurting him.

“I’m fine.” He forced the words out even though his throat felt raw. It was just a lot to process, that was all. He pushed himself to his feet, shoved the two vegetables next to the rest of them, and held out his hands for Hyakkimaru.

I’ll watch him while you finish, he wanted to say. But he couldn't make his mouth move. He just…needed a moment right now.

There was the slightest sting in Jukai’s eyes as he nodded and passed the child off to him. Hyakkimaru jolted and tried to reach back for his parent (because by this point, he had to acknowledge that’s what Jukai was to him), but a brief hand on his back calmed him down enough that he accepted it. As Kaname adjusted him onto his hip, he settled against him, letting him pace as he bounced him softly.

He wondered if the kid understood that he needed that right then, the pressure of his tiny body balancing against him, even if he just let his arms flop to his sides, any reassurance that he was okay, that he was alive.

“I know you didn’t want to hurt him,” he told Jukai after they had gotten Hyakkimaru to sleep for the night. “I didn’t think you were going to hurt him worse. I just needed…” He shook his head.

It felt strange to say, but after he had taken Hyakkimaru from him earlier, with how badly he had panicked when he said he didn’t feel pain—with how badly they had started out—

Jukai froze, eyes wide, before tension visibly drained out of him. Had he really thought that was what he had meant?

Kaname waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, Kaname took in a tiny breath and let it out, then continued. “Is there anything we should be doing differently, if he doesn’t feel pain?”

“I’m…not sure,” he admitted. “Of course, we’ll have to find another way to teach him to avoid danger, or to know when he’s hurt. Still…in some ways, this is better for him.”

Kaname nodded. If he didn’t have to feel bandages constantly digging into his skinless body… His own prosthetic sometimes dug into the joint where his leg used to be, and he could only imagine what that would feel like if it was over his entire body, all the time. If he didn’t have to be in pain…that was good, right?

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Jukai said, jolting him from his thoughts, still not quite daring to reach for him.

In that moment, the most he could manage was a second, stilted nod.

At the very least, something good that had come out of their most recent discovery was that they could let him play in the stream now. It wouldn’t sting him constantly the second he sat down.

Before, when he had toddled them over, they had always tried to steer him away. They might show him a bird’s nest that had fallen, or distract him with the different plants that grew along the edges. It had always seemed like the one thing he was determined to do that they could not get him to stay away from, no matter how many times they went over this routine.

It seemed like he remembered this, too. The second Jukai sat him down on the bank, he was off, darting into the water and running up and down several times, stumbling and falling and pushing himself right back up before pausing and looking back as if waiting for one of them to pull him out.

When they didn’t, he plunked down right where he stood, and proceeded to scoop the water into his hands.

“Hyakkimaru!” Jukai couldn’t help but laugh.

Even Kaname couldn’t help cracking a smile. “What’ve you got, there?” he asked, crouching down next to him.

But Hyakkimaru barely seemed to notice, staring down at the tiny pool cupped between his hands. “What’re you looking at?” He already knew he wouldn’t answer.

“I wonder if he sees some other way…” Jukai knelt down at his other side, staring into tiny wooden hands as if they held the answers.

“How?” The question was out before he could stop himself.

It wasn’t like he would know. He’d never been blind. Yet he watched the child as though he could somehow impart the answers into him.

“I’m not sure,” he finally said. “For now, think of it as speculation.”

“Hm.” Kaname turned his head, trying to see whatever it was Jukai was looking for, as if just staring hard enough would make him see through Hyakkimaru’s eyes.

Someday, when he was older, would he be able to tell them about it?

Chapter Text

The next two years were uneventful…or at least as uneventful as they got around there. Hyakkimaru continued climbing and swinging on things, and had gotten good enough at jumping that they could get him to take to the tree branches outside, instead of the shelves inside the house.

And naturally, he had immediately decided he needed to go for higher branches than what they lifted him to, because of course he would. If there was fruit on the branch, then he was even more likely to climb for it, always so very trusting that one of them would catch him.

At least his muscle exercises had paid off? Though that wasn’t much consolation when he fell, which happened often, particularly when he was still learning to swing with his trunk and legs to move from branch to branch. At times, he would even leap, aiming for their arms and sometimes making them scramble to catch him.

He never wanted to stay still long enough for them to check on him after. Which, Kaname was forced to admit, made sense. If he couldn’t feel pain, then he wouldn’t understand what they were so worried about. The only thing which really had even a chance of stopping him was when he landed wrong one time too many, and his leg crunched underneath him. Even then, it was only a chance—if he could manage to pull himself upright, or even wobble around on the broken limb, he was going to do it.

Of course, this meant two things for Jukai. The first was that he needed to teach Hyakkimaru to stop moving when something had broken, at least long enough for one of them to check on him. Which was difficult even without considering that someday, he might need to move on a broken prosthetic. Kaname could think of a few scenarios even now, and none of them were good. The most persistent being someone finding out about his time under Lord Shiba and opting to take revenge. He’d tended enough children to know that they wouldn’t care that Hyakkimaru was a child, or that he’d clearly been hurt before, and probably didn’t understand wars or samurai feuds. The fact that Jukai wasn’t his birth father wouldn’t do much to deter them. One way or another, they would need to teach him that even though they wanted him to stay still now, that wouldn’t always be the case.

The other thing to come of it was that Jukai had started putting a lot more effort into creating prosthetics Hyakkimaru couldn’t break. Which had proved more of a challenge than either of them had expected. He was still small for his age, and though he was getting stronger, there was only so much weight you could add before a child that size couldn’t lift something.

To add to that, Hyakkimaru seemed determined to find the limits of each new prosthetic and go beyond them. Still, Jukai looked for ways he could reinforce them. As he tapped little shins into place, he would say, “All right, Hyakkimaru. Let’s see if you can’t break these, hm?”

If the child hadn’t been deaf, Kaname would have told Jukai that saying things like that was just inviting him to try it. Not that it mattered, he thought as he plucked a fallen Hyakkimaru from the bushes, brushing back his hair to check his mask. None of his limbs seemed to be splintering this time. Still, he wasn’t willing to bet they had found the solution that easily, if easy was the word to describe it to begin with.

“You’re lucky, you know that?” he told him as he butted his mask against his forehead. “If you’d broken these, you’d have had to do without until he made you a new one.” If there was no new prosthetic, he’d be given a makeshift substitute, or else he’d end up stuck inside unless one of them carried him.

No matter how quickly Jukai could craft, there were only so many arms and legs he could make at a time. Even with fewer patients, there were still enough left that he couldn’t just make child-size limbs all the time, and Kaname’s own skills were only passable when it came to adult-sized limbs. If he tried to make one for Hyakkimaru, it would probably shatter the moment he stepped down on it, if he didn’t break it himself while making it.

But even without hearing him, Hyakkimaru understood this process, so it seemed. At least, he understood it enough not to start jumping in his arms. The second Kaname had finished checking him over, he squirmed until he set him down. Barely seconds later, he was back up the tree—though he noticed he avoided the smaller branches this time.

It was no surprise he could figure this out. He’d broken enough of them that he’d be able to see a pattern. If he wasn’t carried back inside, if Jukai or Kaname wasn’t fussing over him after that initial once-over, then he was probably fine. If they did carry him back inside, it usually meant something was wrong with an arm or leg, and he might not get to walk again for awhile.

Still, Kaname was relieved to find he wasn't stuck between lying still and sleeping when he broke a leg. Just because he’d learned to walk, it didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to roll, and sometimes they had to stop him from bumping things. Or at least move anything that might fall on him if he did.

Even when it was just his arm, he would sometimes choose not to go outside, and instead, he would sit close to Jukai, never quite looking at him as he worked, but watching his own limbs, moving his prosthetic first, then doing the same with the stump of the other one. He must have found something interesting in that, since he kept doing it.

Just what was it he saw when he did that?

Seeing Hyakkimaru go through so many arms and legs (even a mask or two, while he was at it), Kaname came to the realization that he was ready to replace his own makeshift leg. He was prepared to argue his case—that it was his leg, that he’d been practicing this for years, that he could improve faster if he knew how it was working when attached to his own body, that Hyakkimaru was getting faster and he could keep up better on a proper leg.

To his surprise, Jukai had agreed that he should. "If you believe you're ready," he said. "I'll insist on my attaching it to you, but I see no problem with your building it." 

He wondered if Jukai had been expecting him to start asking much earlier. "All right," he answered. How strange. The idea wasn't as abhorrent as he'd expected. Should he have wanted it to be?

While Kaname worked on his leg, Jukai would take Hyakkimaru. Sometimes, they remained in the house, where he taught him things like how to drag himself quickly if he lost a leg—the hardest part about this was that, as it turned out, he still loved rolling enough that he couldn’t always get him to focus on the modified crawl. Which had led to Jukai demonstrating what he wanted him to learn, and later setting up little mazes he could crawl under to let him practice. With Hyakkimaru getting stronger, these were probably almost like games to him.

Perhaps he should have given this as a reason: Hyakkimaru was going to want him to do the maze with him eventually.

Other times, Jukai would take him outside, where they worked on other things. Kaname had seen them often enough to figure out that much of it involved writing.

He’d had a lot of questions about that at first. For one thing, wouldn’t it bore him? But it seemed it was strange and new enough that it held his attention, at least for now, and he would sit and stare as Jukai held the stick in his hand, dragging the tip of it through the dirt. But more importantly…

“Why are you teaching him to write?” he asked one evening over supper. He wouldn’t be able to read, not on paper. It wouldn’t give him any new pastimes, even if they could have afforded reading materials.

“Ah,” Jukai answered, keeping his eyes on Hyakkimaru as he watched him moving the fish to his mouth. “There are some ideas I can't teach him without words. I thought he should at least know his own name, but there are other things he ought to know as well.”

“How?” He can’t read, he didn’t want to say. The words on a page wouldn’t mean anything to him. “He can’t see anything.” That wasn’t exactly true. He was fairly certain, from watching him climb on things if nothing else, that he had some way of perceiving something, but words on a page were almost certainly not within that perception.

“He can feel…perhaps not pain, but something,” Jukai replied. “When I work with him, I put my hand over his to write the characters. I think he feels the movement.”

That…made sense. But did it work? “Does he know any yet?” Kaname spoke between bites. “Words, I mean.”

Jukai looked thoughtful. “I think he can recognize his name. He knows ‘help’ means something, but I don’t think he’s figured out what just yet. Water. He seems to know what ‘water’ means. Ah. And he wants your name, I believe.”

He suspected that if he was already asking for his name, then he had probably tried to ask for Jukai’s at some point as well. Why hadn’t he mentioned that? Was he simply reading too much into it?

At this point, he was keeping his vocabulary to a few words at a time, making sure he understood the words he had before expanding on them, and keeping those to ones he would actually need to use.

“I don’t want him relying entirely on writing, of course,” he explained. If he was in a tree, for example, he would fall, and inside, he wouldn’t always have access to things he could write on. At this point, they could figure enough out without relying on him to write it for them. “But there were some things I thought he should know, and I could think of no other way to give them to him.”

When Kaname had finished his leg, and Jukai had attached it, Hyakkimaru had wanted to know about it almost instantly. In this case, almost instantly meant something along the lines of the very second Kaname’s makeshift leg had come off. When he was supposed to have been asleep.

He must have realized what was happening and gotten curious enough to wake up, if he’d ever really fallen asleep in the first place. When Jukai had told him about it after, some still-hazy part of Kaname's brain had wondered if they should have given Hyakkimaru some of the drugs as well. They should probably have known this would happen.

It wasn’t as though he’d never shown interest in it before, had never stared at it or tried to put his hands on it, but he’d never been quite that persistent about it. In the end, that makeshift prosthetic had been the only thing keeping him from trying to mess with the real one. Jukai had paused, picked up Hyakkimaru, sat him down a few paces away, but still in his line of sight, and finally pressed the old limb into his hands when he kept trying to come back over.

“You’re still a bit too young for this kind of work, Hyakkimaru.” At this point, whether or not he would ever be able to do that kind of work depended on whether either of them could figure out how to make articulated fingers that wouldn’t splinter like twigs.

Though they might be able to find something else he could do, if not. Just what had gotten him so stuck on it all of a sudden?

When the drugs had worn off from his surgery, Kaname was vaguely aware of something pressing against his arm. His head still felt a bit foggy, but he blinked twice, then turned towards the source of the pressure. Sure enough, Hyakkimaru was lying flat on his back, pressed right against him. As he started to push himself up, Hyakkimaru shifted, tilting his head back as if he was trying to get a better look at his face.

“Hey, you. Be careful with your neck,” he tried to mumble, his words slurring together.

There was a vague sense that something was wrong, that something was there which shouldn’t have been, and Kaname took a breath before sitting the rest of the way up. He’d had this kind of prosthetic before, he reminded himself. It was just that he’d gotten used to the other one in the meantime. This one was better.

Even after he sat up, Hyakkimaru laid there for a moment longer, staring at whatever he saw from that odd angle before letting his spine straighten out and copying his position.

“He’s been this way since I first allowed him back over,” Jukai spoke, returning to kneel beside him. “But how are you feeling now?”

“I don’t know,” Kaname answered. “I don’t think I’m in pain.” Which still felt like something he should know, but even though his leg didn’t feel like it was hurting, maybe that sense of wrongness was something else?

As Jukai continued checking him over, Hyakkimaru sat, sightless eyes fixed on the new prosthetic, staring like it was the pools of water he cupped in his hands or the insects he watched crawling along the ground.

As Kaname adjusted to the new limb, that feeling of wrongness settled into a general pressure, one which he could gradually come to ignore. Still, it was a learning experience. He’d gotten used to the way his makeshift one had moved. Perhaps he should have traded it for a real one years before, even if he knew he couldn’t have accepted it then. But he had learned it once before, and he could learn it again.

Even if it was absurdly slower than he could remember it being the last time. Jukai had warned him not to overdo it while he was still adjusting. But in his defense, he usually thought he was pacing himself until he woke up with something smarting that shouldn’t have been.

“You and Hyakkimaru both,” Jukai would say, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

He had made some adjustments on the leg since then—not all of it was his own recklessness with it—and given him specific exercises and activities to make sure he paced himself this time.

Often times, Hyakkimaru trotted alongside them as they worked, watching, sometimes mimicking their steps. Other times, like this one, he would follow for a bit, and then he sprinted on ahead, scrambling up a tree and swinging from its branches until he came to the edge of their coverage along that path.

Jukai wasn’t worried. There were plenty of plants and insects that would keep him occupied at this time of year. Barring that, the stream was close enough and shallow enough that he could sit along the banks and play with the water or any of the creatures he found.

Though once, he had found a snake, which had tried to bite at his prosthetic arms—probably the only thing that had saved him from actually being bitten—and which had given them both quite a scare to try and get away from him without it biting themselves. It had slithered away before either of them could quite identify it, though Kaname suspected Jukai had gotten a better look, having been the one who finally got him to let go, and simply pretended like he hadn’t seen to avoid making him worry. Which meant it had probably been venomous.

The fact that Jukai had carefully washed his prosthetic and then spent time after that teaching him not to go picking up snakes did little to convince him otherwise.

And now, seeing him struggling with something that had latched onto his mask, Kaname dearly hoped that he hadn’t gone and decided to put his mouth on a snake. As he flailed and stumbled, trying to dislodge the thing, Jukai laughed, walking ahead of him just enough to reach his child before he could work himself up.

“Seems that crab took a liking to you,” he said. Hyakkimaru tossed his head, yanking at the crab with a particularly harsh tug. Even as he limped himself closer (rain must have been on its way) he could tell he was becoming distressed over it. Evidently, Jukai saw it, too. “Be careful. You’ll scratch your mask up.” He ran a hand over his hair once, and then reached for the crab, pinching it at the base of its claw. “Here you go.”

As it released him, Hyakkimaru stilled, staring after it before turning back to Jukai. He didn’t quite hold out his hand for it, but something he did must have had the same effect. “Let’s take some home for supper,” he suggested instead, stooping to lift a few more from the shallow water. To his surprise, Hyakkimaru hung back this time. Perhaps he was worried another would latch on, and maybe he wouldn't be able to get it off this time. He watched Jukai until he was finished, head turning to follow the crab. “It’s about time we head back. I can see you’re wearing out, and Hyakkimaru’s probably getting hungry if he’s trying to chew on crabs again.”

Kaname opened his mouth to protest. He would have been fine a while longer at least. But then he saw Hyakkimaru, staring up at Jukai—and the crabs he’d added to his pack. At least half of his statement was true. So he swallowed back his protests with a nod. “Very well then. Hyakkimaru,” he held out a hand, knowing full well he might not take it. “Let’s go home.”

Today, he didn’t quite take his hand, but he trotted alongside them, matching his pace, sometimes getting a little ahead, then stopping and waiting, finding something in the trees that caught his attention, or even just staring back until they had caught up.

He hovered between them, sometimes hanging off of their arms, sometimes just pressing against one or the other, until Jukai had finished cooking the crabs. The three of them sat around the fire. It sometimes took Hyakkimaru a minute or two before he sat with them—if he wasn’t trying to swing himself from Jukai’s arm, Kaname would sometimes signal him over a bit earlier so that his minute or so would line up a little more closely. But today, he was there at the same time they were, practically jumping from his seated position even while sitting still, watching as Jukai blew on his food before handing it to him. If he couldn’t feel pain, then he likely didn’t understand what “too hot” was either. Neither of them wanted to risk his burning his throat if they could avoid it.

When he finally handed him the cooked crab, Hyakkimaru immediately set into it. His mask prevented him from taking too much at once, but he tore into it as much as he could manage. After a few bites, he slowed down, and Jukai and Kaname both took their portions, murmuring a thanks which was almost inaudible. As he swallowed his own mouthful, he was suddenly aware of his own hunger, and reminded himself to move slowly as he continued.

“You must’ve been pretty famished, Hyakkimaru. But it’s better this way than raw, isn’t it?” Kaname spoke, earning a small chuckle from Jukai. Briefly, he wondered what it felt like to him, if his hunger was the same as theirs, or if it was different, with no sensations of pain if it became more extreme. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

It was a long while before either of them spoke again, and Kaname almost didn’t register he had spoken to him. “Your leg is well?”

“I think it’s going to rain soon,” he said between bites. “But I’m fine.”

As Jukai nodded, the sounds of the wind shifted outside. “I hope it won’t be too severe…” he said, almost to himself more than anyone else.

They would put Hyakkimaru to bed soon. With the rains blowing in, Kaname couldn’t imagine he would be up for long after. Jukai was another story entirely. If he thought he could manage without waking him, there was no telling when he would decide to turn in.

“If it’s a bad one, Hyakkimaru’s going to need you,” he replied, an unspoken plea not to overwork himself the way he guarded Kaname against. Hyakkimaru would need him. Whatever it was he saw or felt, it wasn’t something Kaname had ever quite been able to fully comfort him over. But if he needed to stay with him, then it was less likely he would try to return to his work once that had passed.

It had become a familiar routine, much as he had thought he’d never see something like that again. As much as it felt like he was tempting fate to think of it now. But for the time being, he let himself watch as Hyakkimaru chewed the last of his meal, enjoying the relative normalcy for however long he could.

Chapter Text

For awhile longer, things continued as they had been. Harvesting season came and went, and although Hyakkimaru tried to help with pulling things from the garden, his hands were much better suited for pulling fruit from the nearby trees. By sending him up, Jukai and Kaname could also work off a lot more of his excess energy as well—since he’d gotten a hang of running around, it seemed that, short of attaching new limbs to him, there was next to nothing that could tire him out before bedtime.

Winter brought an entirely different set of challenges, and not just in terms of storing food. That was something which, though he didn’t want to say they’d gotten used to it, it wasn’t like it was any different from any other time. There was the issue of keeping Hyakkimaru from running off and freezing himself, since he didn’t seem to understand too cold any more than he had too hot or pain in any other sense of the word. Though that wasn’t anything new, either. It was just that now they knew he didn’t feel it, rather than simply ignoring it.

And of course, winter meant different animals came out at different times. Foxes and the like. Again, nothing new. But it was more unnerving than it really should have been. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was…off…about those foxes.

Hyakkimaru had followed one, once. They weren’t supposed to be out long, but Jukai had wanted to take some of the firewood inside before it snowed to avoid it getting wet. Hyakkimaru had tried to follow him.

“I think you had better stay inside, Hyakkimaru,” Jukai told him, resting a hand on his head to let him know not to follow.

Kaname had known he was probably right. But at the same time, it was getting colder. If it really was going to snow, then it would be a decent while before they could let him run outside again, and as he grew stronger, he also grew more restless. “I can watch him,” he spoke up. “It’ll be good for him to run around a bit. I’ll take him back in as soon as you’re done.”

The second he was outside, he was off, running and jumping over the rocks and stumps of trees, sometimes turning around and trying to push the rocks over, then coming and leading Kaname towards it if he couldn’t get it to move.

It was in the middle of moving one—Kaname would pretend to have more trouble than he actually did at times so that Hyakkimaru could help—that his head had suddenly jerked to one side, and he’d grown still.

“Hm? What is it?” He ran a hand over his shoulder. Hopefully, he would return to the rock, but perhaps he’d found something else, and wanted to show him. Or maybe he was upset that Jukai hadn’t come back yet, and wanted to go find him.

The next second, he bolted, sprinting towards the treeline before he’d had a chance to grab him.

“Hyakkimaru!”

Biting back a swear, Kaname took off after him, barely paying attention to anything else and losing his balance just as he’d caught him. Hyakkimaru pushed against him, trying to squirm out of his grip and continue his chase, but he held him tight to his chest, hardly even daring to run a hand over his back for fear that he’d slip out and disappear.

“It’s too cold,” he whispered. “It’s too cold for this.” They wouldn’t be able to run after him for as long as he could run, not when their bodies would feel the cold and his wouldn’t. If he ran off after something, they might never get him back.

At that moment, Kaname became aware of something else. Hyakkimaru had stopped moving, but still craned his neck out to look after whatever it was he’d seen. Turning his head to follow his gaze, he saw the fox sitting a few paces away.

If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn it was…

Scooping Hyakkimaru closer to him, Kaname scrambled to his feet, rushing back towards Jukai as fast as he could without it becoming obvious he was running.

There hadn’t been anything visibly off about it. Yet something was screaming in his mind that if he’d let Hyakkimaru go after it, he would never have seen him again. A creeping feeling coiling inside of him told him this didn’t have anything to do with the weather.

As he approached, Jukai turned to him. His eyes widened. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Kaname swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, I…Hyakkimaru tried to run after something. I didn’t see…” No, that wasn’t true. “I’m not sure what it was.”

Something washed over his expression just then, and his eyes scanned the horizon behind them. “Get back inside. This will be enough for now.”

“What—” he started to ask, then turned and hurried into the house. Maybe he just didn’t understand that it was an animal, not a person. But if Jukai had reacted that strongly to it, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to take any chances.

Over time, Hyakkimaru had come to understand that when Jukai and Kaname stuck closer to the house, it meant he couldn’t go as far either, but it didn’t mean that he would stop trying to figure out exactly how far he could go before that point.

And of course, that meant a return to trying to climb on the shelves. No matter how Jukai explained that this was off-limits, that it was something he couldn’t do and that it would only bring the rest of the tools down on top of him, if he went long enough without going outside, he was going to try it. And when the snow blew viciously against the walls of the house, well, it wasn’t as if running outside was a feasible option.

Especially not if that fox which Kaname was certain was not a fox was still prowling about. Not until Hyakkimaru understood why he should stay away from it. Maybe not even after that.

But he still needed to burn of that energy somehow, Kaname thought as he watched him rolling along the floor, then laying flat for a moment. Seconds later, he scrambled to his feet, and he knew he was going for the shelves even before he took off.

Before Jukai could reach out, before he himself even knew what he was doing, Kaname caught him by his hands, swung him back, tossed him up and caught him under the arms, swinging him around several times before stopping.

Then he realized what he’d done. A spike of worry shot through him. Had he been too rough on him?

He knelt down fast, pushing back the frayed edges of his sleeves and taking his arm, lifting and turning it. It didn’t look like he’d pulled them out of the sockets. Kaname breathed a sigh of relief.

The next second, Hyakkimaru darted forwards again. But this time, when he got to the shelves, he stopped. After another moment or two, he turned back towards Kaname, staring. Waiting? But for what?

Behind him, Jukai gave a gasp of recognition, and something in that made the pieces click together. Kaname walked over to him. When Hyakkimaru didn’t take off running in the opposite direction, he lifted him up under the arms, walking them away from the shelves and waiting for any indication that this was what he wanted him to do. But he just stared, continuing to dangle from his hands.

“All right, kid. If you’re going to leave me to guess…” He spun them around again, going faster and faster while still trying to avoid the walls or Jukai’s workspace.

When he set him down again, he couldn’t quite hold in the beginnings of a laugh. “How was that?”

This time, it was Jukai who laughed when he darted off again. “I think it’s safe to say he likes it.”

Which, of course, meant it was something he was going to do for a long time.

The not-fox hadn’t come back, at least, not where they had seen it or Hyakkimaru had run after it. When spring had returned, they had breathed a collective sigh of relief. They would have to begin plowing and growing food again, and there would be a surge in the number of patients due to farming accidents, but at the same time there would be fewer losing hands and feet to frostbite.

As well as less risk of Hyakkimaru wandering off and freezing himself before they could find him. Once he had run off the energy he’d accumulated during the winter, the spring always seemed to bring out a more contemplative side of him. When the grass and plants began growing again, when the worms began crawling around and the birds hovering about, it was almost as if he would become mesmerized by them.

It was easy to sit him down somewhere and find him later, still preoccupied with anything from bugs to blades of grass which he twirled in his hands.

While Jukai handled the bulk of the plowing and tilling, it was something Kaname helped out with as well. Every now and then, one or the other would go to check on Hyakkimaru. Sometimes, he would pause to show them what he’d found. Others, they would almost have had to tear him away from it.

At the moment, he was busy comparing the grass with a worm he’d found, and he held them out for Jukai to see when he knelt down beside him. As he returned back to their patch of land, Hyakkimaru turned his head to follow him, staring after him until the wind snatched the grass from his hand and he found something else to occupy himself with.

“He’s going to want to start doing this too,” Kaname couldn’t help observing. “He already watches you as much as his bugs.”

That had almost drawn a laugh. “Hopefully he’ll be willing to wait until he’s at least a little bigger than my tools.” He thought for a moment. “Though I suppose he could do some planting.”

“He probably could.” Bulbs would be easier for him, but they could probably take some of the seeds they had preserved and put them into his hands to plant. It was going to happen one of two ways, Kaname imagined. Either he was going to pick up on it almost immediately, scattering the seeds and holding his hands out for more the second he was done, or he would sit there, completely mesmerized by whatever they put into his hands until they guided him to bury it, and then he would stare awhile after that. He might lay outside by it until it sprouted. Or they might have to stop him from trying to dig it up or pluck the new sprouts.

They had worked in silence for some time, until Jukai’s voice broke the quiet. “Hyakkimaru?”

As he stood, Kaname swallowed. That wasn’t anything unusual. Sometimes he wandered off. But he wouldn’t go far, and he’d be back to check on them before long.

And yet, some small alarm flared up inside of him. “I’ll go check on him. You finish up here,” he said, adjusting his sleeve as he started towards the woods.

It was nothing. He’d probably just seen a bird or something. He just needed to climb or swing. That was all.

He headed down the path, eyes scanning the treetops as he kept his ears perked for the sound of breaking branches. Any second now, he’d come trotting up with a crab in his hands or chewing on the remains of one of the strange creatures he always seemed to find. Kaname would hold out his hand and he’d either spit it into it, and then take his hand to run along it, or else he’d turn his head and act like he didn’t know what he was asking.

The further down the path he went, the more that tiny alarm coiled in his stomach. It wasn’t that cold. Large animals didn’t come down this way. There was no way he’d let himself be mauled by—

A piercing shriek cut through the air. Hyakkimaru!

Kaname sprinted towards the sound as the roaring continued. His blood ran cold as the creature came into view—a massive beast, almost like a weasel with scythes instead of claws. It snarled and spat as it swung again and again, Hyakkimaru just barely staying ahead of it.

He needed to get back into the trees, get somewhere that it couldn’t use those terrible claws, force it into a bad space to maneuver. But there was no way he could do that, not when the beast kept forcing him back.

If he could just get to him, he could grab him and run. The curves of its claws might make it hard for it to climb. They might be able to escape that way.

But no matter how fast Hyakkimaru could run, that beast was bigger and stronger, and it pushed him onto his back. That wasn’t what it had wanted to do. He’d grabbed onto its claws—the only thing stopping it from ripping straight through him—and twisted himself on the ground as it tried to bite at his neck, forcing it to catch at the joint between his prosthetic and shoulder.

If he could have felt pain, it would have forced him to let go, to let it finish the job. Dammit, why couldn’t he make himself scream? Why hadn’t he thought to bring something from the garden! He could have swung it, could have beaten it off him. But at this rate, he was going to—He couldn’t just do nothing!

Just as he started to move, he saw the ax go spinning through the air and bury itself in the beast’s back. As it screamed and thrashed, Jukai rushed forward, more terrifying than Kaname could ever remember seeing him. Realizing what he meant to do, he shut his eyes just in time to hear a wet ripping sound as the beast howled, and then the thump of the ax hitting the ground.

“Hyakkimaru! Are you—Kaname!” He staggered forward, opening his eyes as that frightening version of Jukai was instantly replaced with the one he’d come to know. The monster had gone. “Are you both all right?”

His throat felt dry. But he stumbled to his knees and forced himself to nod. Hyakkimaru was stiff and still as they sat him up. It should have been worrying, yet Kaname could only find himself releasing a sigh. It was much better than finding him limp. He must have realized what had almost happened as the moment had passed.

“Just what was that?” Jukai wondered, more to himself than to any of them, as he surveyed the area. Kaname didn’t follow his gaze. He didn’t want to see the patches of blood and fur he was certain were lying about.

Still, he found himself shaking his head, swallowing hard as he tried to answer I don’t know, I don’t know!

When he reached for Hyakkimaru, he didn’t resist as he pulled him towards him, shifting an arm underneath him as he stood and lifted him up, bracing tight against him even as he remained rigid. There was no reason for him to be shaking. He wasn’t the one who’d nearly been eaten.

“Kaname,” he jolted at the feeling of a hand on his back. He was just trying to steady him, since he was balancing the child. This was just the kind of situation that would have caused him to have phantom pains or stumble and fall. If he wasn’t careful, Jukai would end up having to carry them both. But if he did that, he’d have to leave the ax and…

“Let’s get back to the house,” he spoke again. “I’ll need to check you both over, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to be out here with that thing still prowling about.”

Even if it might die soon, the presence of one monster usually meant others, possibly scavengers waiting for an easy meal.

Kaname nodded, letting Jukai balance him as he tried to stumble. It was all right. He was fine. They were fine. They only needed to get back to the house.

Chapter Text

It was something Kaname had told himself since Hyakkimaru had started walking, or at least, sometime around then. At least, he was fairly certain that was when he became aware of it. If everyone could just get back to the house, then things would be okay.

But maybe he hadn’t been aware of just how much he relied on that thought before. Now, there was the question of whether or not more monsters would be waiting for them outside the house, of whether Jukai would be able to do anything before they took Hyakkimaru. They had to keep a much closer eye on him, which meant he couldn’t wander off on his own anymore.

Jukai tried to explain it to him, and he had seemed to understand. But whether or not he understood why he shouldn’t, it didn’t mean he would stop wanting to do it. At times, he would stiffen and freeze when they tried to pull him back from the trees.

Other times he would walk towards the stream, his limbs seeming far more wooden than they had before, sit down, scoop water into his hands, and just sit there, turning to look for them if they didn’t follow him. He might just sit there, or try to come back to them, or he might begin to run a hand over his own hair, movement just a little too stiff and blocky to be a good imitation of when they did it.

And of course, of course he would know that something had changed. But somehow, that was the hardest thing to watch. Especially when they couldn’t even give him a good explanation for it. If it was because he was a child and was therefore easy prey, then it should have started happening much sooner. Even if they were waiting for Jukai and Kaname to stop hovering over him, there had been plenty of time within those past two years for them to strike.

Even then, it wasn’t like Kaname alone could have put up that much of a fight, if they’d really wanted to get to Hyakkimaru before. They wouldn’t even have had to rely on his losing sight of the kid, not when he’d still been using his makeshift prosthetic and especially not when he was still adjusting to his real one. So then why did they decide to start attacking now?

Jukai hadn’t been able to give an answer. “Perhaps it’s something to do with the reason he survived to begin with.”

“Hm?” Kaname raised a brow. On some level, he knew that people didn’t just survive without skin, that being mutilated as badly as he had been would usually kill someone. But then, he had lived and kept living and something about that just became part of what was normal for him.

“His…power, if you will,” Jukai hesitated, glancing away as he said it.

Did he mean something like will to live? But the way he spoke, it almost had to be more than that.

“It must be something those creatures want, something which they think they can get by…”

In that moment, Hyakkimaru shifted abruptly, sitting, then standing and looking up into the dark areas of the ceiling.

“Hyakkimaru?” Jukai called as the two of them began to move. “What’s wrong?”

They followed his gaze up between the beams of the ceiling. The shadows seemed darker than usual. A second later, something shifted, almost as if the darkness itself was alive.

“Mononoke…” Jukai’s voice was scarcely more than a breath.

And then, Kaname heard it, too. The faint, malicious laughter on the edge of his hearing, just before the shadows shifted once more, and the room returned to normal. Hyakkimaru still stood frozen, staring up into the darkness. He lifted him up, balancing him against his hip and shifting them back and forth. It’s okay. They’re gone now, he wanted to say. But were they really?

When Hyakkimaru still didn’t relax, he passed him to Jukai, who held him to his chest and rubbed along his back until he rested his head against his shoulder, letting himself be rocked back and forth.

“He’s going to need someone to stay with him at night,” he finally spoke aloud. He wouldn’t feel safe otherwise. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, and then he’d be moody in the morning, strangely sluggish and wanting to be carried everywhere, unable to focus on any of the things which normally interested him.

“Hm,” Jukai agreed. “If one of us needs to work, we’ll have to make sure the other is right with him when he goes to bed.”

They might not be able to do much against them, not if the demons were starting to come into their home. But for now at least, their presence seemed to ward them off. Kaname wouldn’t question why they only wanted to attack him when they thought he was alone. Their solution wouldn’t work forever. There was no reason to shorten that time by saying it out loud.

Jukai was planning something again. Kaname was almost certain of it. Even if he hadn’t learned to recognize that oddly focused, yet faraway look, it always made Hyakkimaru get curious. He would hover around, regardless of what he was doing at the moment, and sometimes he would try to grab at his hands, feeling for something in them that he couldn’t see.

The very first time he had done that, they had assumed he wanted something. But they had quickly learned that wasn’t the case. If Hyakkimaru wanted something, he was more likely than not to try to get it himself. If he’d figured out he couldn’t, he’d usually lead one of them over to it and stare until they figured out what he was looking at. Sometimes, they could get him to point, but that wasn’t always the case.

“He thinks you’re up to something,” Kaname had finally realized. A little later, he’d learned to ask, “What are you thinking about?” Jukai wouldn’t often tell him otherwise.

But today, there were other matters that needed attending to first. Several of the spring crops had failed, and they had rushed to remove them before they could affect the survivors. Hyakkimaru had helped them pull the dead ones, and reached for several which were still living. Some of them, Jukai deemed could not be saved. Others, they stopped him, directing him back to the ones which were visibly dying.

“We’re only pulling the dead ones, Hyakkimaru. It isn’t time to harvest yet.”

This wasn’t the way they would have wanted him to learn it. Not with the threat of a demon attack looming over them.

Though they had managed to save some, the fact remained that they would need to supplement parts of the food. The radishes had mostly survived, but they wouldn’t be ready for another week, and it didn’t seem like the best idea to rely on one of them being able to catch a fish, even if Hyakkimaru did have a talent for finding things.

If this had happened before the demons began attacking, the solution would have been obvious. One of them would go to the market to pick up a few things, while the other would remain home with Hyakkimaru. Which had almost always meant Jukai, since Kaname had been keeping somewhat quiet about his departure and return. There had been people who’d asked, of course, but he had always managed to avoid the subject. Even if he knew it wouldn’t be possible forever.

The problem with that now was that the demons might choose to attack while he was away. With some of them trying to get into the house, the person who stayed would need to be someone who could fight them off. Since Jukai was the only one of them who had any training that would let him do that…

“I’ll have you watch Hyakkimaru when we go to the marketplace.” When he’d first said it, Kaname nearly balked. Perhaps a part of him had been expecting Jukai to have him start running the errands himself. After all, there were still the patients he visited, though they had been fewer as people had finished planting, and Kaname couldn’t just hide on the premises forever, never interacting with anyone who didn't come to them first.

“All right,” he answered. It wouldn’t be that difficult. He could make polite conversation. He’d done it plenty of times, both before he’d returned and when Jukai treated a patient in his house. Just because he’d normally carried Hyakkimaru out, it didn’t mean he never made any conversation.

Besides, it wasn’t like they had much else in terms of options. Not unless Kaname wanted to go to the marketplace by himself, which, admittedly, should probably have been a less foreboding prospect at his age. If it was anywhere else, he told himself, he would have been able to do it.

When they got ready to leave, Hyakkimaru had rushed over and attached himself to Jukai’s leg. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but before, it had been more of a funny thing he did, whether because he wanted to go, too, or because he had some other reason. Since the demon attacks, though, another element had been added to it. Something small and almost scared. Was it because he thought something would get him, or because he thought Jukai wouldn't make it back?

“Don’t worry, Hyakkimaru,” Jukai said, reaching down and hoisting him up. Almost immediately, he clung to his chest instead. “You’re coming with us this time.”

All things considered, it was probably better for Jukai to carry him until they got to the marketplace. Just in case any creatures saw them and started getting ideas.

But the walk there was largely uneventful, and Jukai passed him to Kaname as they entered the village marketplace.

Almost immediately, Hyakkimaru started twisting around, craning his neck to look at everything. “All right,” he said, setting him down and taking his hand. “Why don’t you show me what you’re looking at?”

Instead of walking towards anything, though, he simply stood there, starting to move and then stopping as soon as someone would pass by. Oh, that was right. He hadn’t seen anyone besides him and Jukai for the past six years. Likely as not, he didn’t remember anyone else, and if he did, they wouldn’t be anyone he would want to remember. Did he even know that the people walking around were human?

He stooped down next to him, taking his finger and guiding it towards the dirt. People, he wrote, taking his other hand and pointing it towards some of the ones who walked by. Marketplace, he added, sweeping his arm around to let him know this was all around him. If Hyakkimaru was paying attention, he didn’t show it, continuing to turn his head as people moved every which way, pressing closer and closer to Kaname.

It must have been a bit much for him. Still, it was…nice to see that he wasn’t the only one, even if the other person was only six years old.

“There are quite a few of them, huh? Let’s find something for you to look at. It’ll take your mind off of them.” Kaname helped him to stand up, already feeling some of that familiar stiffness returning to him. If he could do at least something which was normal for him, it might help at least a little bit.

Keeping one hand in his and the other over his back, he tried to lead him towards some of the stands. The sellers probably wouldn’t let him pick up their wares without buying, even if it was to teach his six-year-old brother about them, but he could still at least point. That might be enough.

As they approached a stand, the woman manning it didn’t cry out, but her stance shifted and her gaze went down to Hyakkimaru before settling just off of Kaname, not quite able to hide her puzzlement over him.

Oh. He was going to be expected to keep up a conversation, wasn’t he? Would he have to explain that he didn’t actually plan to buy anything, that he was just watching him and was needing something to keep him from getting too overwhelmed? But then, she might ask how that was possible. One look at him was enough to know that his eyes and ears were prosthetics. Even if he’d known how to explain that they thought he had some way of sensing things, what reason would she have to believe him?

But before he could say anything, something must have clicked, and she spoke. “Ah, Kaname. I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

And if that wasn’t the understatement of a lifetime. He took a breath. “Yes, it’s been awhile.”

Perhaps there was more he should have said. It wasn’t like he had to lie outright. He could just mention Jukai finding Hyakkimaru and the amount of time they had put into raising him. It wouldn’t cover where he had disappeared to for that first year. But maybe Hyakkimaru’s being there would be enough of an answer that she wouldn’t ask.

He held one hand flat in front of him, trying to get his finger to point towards the leaves of bok choy, then pressing his finger into his palm to write the word. But at this point, Hyakkimaru couldn’t seem to focus on anything at all. And the vendor watching them with her thinly-veiled concern (or was it horror?) was not helping the matter.

What was he supposed to say? Sorry, my teacher took him in a few years ago, and he’s started getting attacked by demons so we can’t stay home alone anymore. He’s never seen a marketplace before and I need to use your vegetables to distract him so he doesn’t panic and lay down on the ground where he could get stepped on?

But before he could figure that out, Hyakkimaru turned and ran, weaving uneasily through the crowds. Starting, stopping, then starting again. Turning, looking around, trying to run, stopping short as someone else crossed his path.

Kaname reached him just as he started going to the ground, swooping him up and settling him on his hip even as his body went rigid, patting his back as he bounced him softly.

People were watching, and it felt like an uncomfortable slithering somewhere just inside his skull, but he forced himself not to pay attention. “Let’s go find Jukai, all right?” That was probably why he’d run off in the first place, if he thought about it a little.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find him, and he barely spared a glance at Hyakkimaru, slumped against Kaname, before he nodded and said, yes, it was about time to head home.

If Kaname had needed further proof that Hyakkimaru had been trying to look for Jukai, his refusal to let go of his side even after he’d eaten and fallen asleep would probably suffice. It might be a good idea to go ahead and tell him what had happened in the marketplace, how whatever power he had, whatever it was he used to see, it didn’t stop him from being overwhelmed, and that maybe until he got used to it, he needed to stick very close to him so he didn’t try to run off again.

Jukai had taken this in, almost frozen in place with a faraway look in his eye as he considered it. “The way he sees…even if he’s only feeling things around him, that must act as a kind of sense,” he thought out loud. Which…fit. Really, he wasn’t sure what more he was supposed to say to that. Hearing it in words, it was kind of obvious.

But then, that far away look reminded Kaname of something else. The thing he’d been thinking of before the rest of the day had interrupted him. “You’ve been planning something. Hyakkimaru thought you were up to something earlier.”

“Ah,” he glanced down at the tiny body which still clung to him even as he slept. “Yes, regarding our…situation with the demons…”

Already, he didn’t like the tone he was taking. There was this slightest edge of regret in his voice, which made Kaname want to scream because it wasn’t like that feeling would fix anything, and it wouldn’t give him any answers either.

“If it keeps the demons off of him…” Kaname started.

“You won’t like it,” Jukai cut him off. Kaname startled in response. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cut him off. Even when he had just been his apprentice, when he hadn’t known anything of his past, he hadn’t ever done so. Which made sense given what he knew now, but he hadn’t been aware of quite how odd that was until it had happened. Then he took a breath, and spoke again, “You won’t like it, but I’m afraid it’s the only thing I could think of.”

There was no way he would kill him. And Kaname almost hated himself, that this was the first thing he thought of. He wouldn’t continue to beat the demons away if that had been his plan.

He wanted to ask, “What is it?” But his throat felt dry.

“I need to teach Hyakkimaru how to fight back. If he’s able to defend himself, then they might not stop attacking him, but at least he would be able to hold his own.”

And how will you teach him that? he wanted to snap at him. He doesn’t even have a full set of fingers! How would you even explain what you’re doing?

But that wasn’t the problem at all, was it?

“Kaname…” Jukai started to reach for him as he pushed himself to his feet. He needed Hyakkimaru, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull him away, not when he was already asleep.

He didn’t need an explanation right now. He didn't need an apology. He didn’t need to hear how he understood why that would be upsetting and he didn’t have to watch and…and… He walked the length of the room, gripping his sleeves and rubbing his hands up and down his arms, because that would have to do right now, until he could trust himself not to start screaming.

Chapter Text

Hyakkimaru didn’t seem to know about what had happened the night before. At least, he hadn't given any indication that he knew. He wouldn’t even call it a confrontation, even if his nerves were burnt out enough that’s what it felt like. But if he’d slept through it, if he hadn’t felt anything and woken up, then that was probably for the best.

Jukai was right. As he watched his little brother crouching in the dirt, carefully examining the worm between his fingers, he knew that much. The state of his hands wouldn’t stop him from learning, either. He’d watched him feed himself and do all manner of other things. If they didn't teach him to fight, he'd need one of them with him for the rest of his life. As the monsters got smarter, they'd realize Kaname couldn't fight, and then he'd need to stay specifically with Jukai at all times. As he got older and stiffer, that would increasingly restrict Hyakkimaru to the house. Truthfully, that wasn’t something he wanted for him, either. To spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder for fear that a demon might snatch you up before anyone noticed? Always needing someone to watch you just to make sure you didn’t get eaten? With how active Hyakkimaru had been before, that wasn’t an option.

Still, he averted his gaze as Jukai handed a carved stick to the child, only the soft clack of his hand against the wood letting him know he had taken it.

“I can’t protect you forever. In order to survive in this world, you must become strong.” There was a shift as he took a second stick—practice swords, though he didn’t want to think of them as such. “That’s why I’ll be teaching you to use a sword. I hope you can forgive me for passing this on to you.”

Hyakkimaru hadn’t understood what to do with the practice sword at first, running his hand over it and then holding it up next to his arm. Maybe he was puzzling over why it was so much longer.

Jukai let him do this for a bit, before he took his hands and moved them to hold it like what it actually was. “This is your weapon. I’m going to start you just swinging and standing with it. We’ll move to strikes and blocks soon enough.”

As he listened to their practice, Kaname couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to be there. It wasn’t like he was required to be, and it wasn’t even like he didn’t have anything better to do. In fact, it might be better for both of them if he did something else.

A loud crack jolted him from his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see Hyakkimaru hit the ground, practice sword clattering next to him. How long had they been at it, and he hadn’t noticed they’d moved to…?

Alarm shot through him as he started to push himself up, stumbling as his leg caught. No, it couldn’t give out now.

Almost at the same time, Jukai started to reach out, then moved his hand back to the handle, watching as Hyakkimaru slowly rolled himself over, feeling for his own sword.

“That’s it. Get up…” Jukai coaxed, even as his stance and face remained impassive.

The next second, he was back at it, and Kaname found himself stumbling back towards the house.

“Are you sure that’s not too fast for him?” he asked that night. When Jukai had brought him in, his arms and legs had hung limp, even as his head turned to look at him. He hadn’t been asleep, just too exhausted to move. And that had set off way more alarms than it probably should have.

A guilty look flitted across his face just then. “I had forgotten he doesn’t feel pain,” he admitted. “I made the mistake of expecting him to stop before he exhausted himself. That should have been my responsibility, not his.”

He wouldn’t ask Kaname to watch and gage it for him, would he? It had been hard enough in the time he had been there, and he had barely paid attention then.

“I’ll have to figure out just how much he can manage,” he continued. “It’ll take some time, of course, but…”

That wasn’t entirely what he’d meant. “Are you sure it’s not too hard on him?” The smack of the sword against his wooden limbs rang out in his memory. Jukai had struck Hyakkimaru. That thought kept running through his head. Jukai had struck Hyakkimaru. “Just because he doesn’t feel it…”

“It’s going to be hard for him.” Kaname startled at the sudden strength in the older man’s tone. “But if I continue to shelter him in this, will he come to expect it from the demons? And would they give him that?”

Then his expression softened once more. “Kaname. I’m not going to hurt him. I don’t plan to shield him from the realities of his situation, but please believe me when I say I’m not going to hurt him.”

He wished he could believe that. Jukai might not intend to hurt him, might not try to hurt him, but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t hurt him.

He stopped just short of telling him that.

Kaname had opted not to watch the next few sessions. He could still hear well enough as he worked, if he didn't let himself get too carried away. If it sounded like Hyakkimaru had taken a particularly bad fall, he would check on them. The fact that Jukai hadn’t managed to break either the swords or one of his prosthetics had comforted him somewhat. He had no doubt he could if he wanted to. At least he was holding back that much.

The one thing he couldn’t figure out was whether Jukai was getting better at finding Hyakkimaru’s limits, or it was just Hyakkimaru getting stronger again. Sometimes, though, he would still try to lie down once he had finished, or attach himself to their legs and hang on.

Other times, like today, he would drag Kaname by the hand, wanting him to follow him back to the stream or the wood-pile. Though he still tended to steer clear of the forest. Not that anyone could blame him for it. Even if he wanted to go back to the normal he’d had before, some things were just a little too obviously tempting fate.

But this time, he didn’t go towards the wood pile or the stream. At first, Kaname had thought perhaps he was wanting to lay in the grass and look at bugs, but then Hyakkimaru had let go and trotted off back towards the house. Which was…odd, but not completely unheard of for him. Just as long as he didn’t go wandering off where they couldn’t see him, then it should be fine.

Even so, Kaname turned and started to follow him, just to be sure nothing would swoop down and grab him before he could reach him.

Whatever it was Hyakkimaru had been after, he must have found it. The next second, he came trotting back over, dropping whatever it was when he reached him, and trying to push him back to where they had been. Then he stooped down for the thing he had gone to get.

When he pressed it into his hands, Kaname’s blood ran cold. “No, Hyakkimaru,” he said, refusing to close his hand around it.

There was a pause, and then he tried to push it to him again. “Hyakkimaru, no. I can’t.” This time, Kaname pushed it back, and Hyakkimaru held it up, trying to grab for one of Kaname’s hands. Did he think he didn’t know what a sword was for?

“I can’t!” he snapped, snatching his hands away fast enough that the practice sword fell to the ground.

Hyakkimaru stood for a moment, near motionless, and Kaname wished he could have known what he was thinking. Then slowly, as if his limbs were made of metal, he knelt down, wishing he could muster up the strength to pull him close and having to settle for putting a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have any way of knowing any better. It wasn’t like they’d ever had any way of telling him. But this was one thing Kaname would never be able to do with him, even if he could have learned it at this point.

It couldn’t have been more than a few moments later, but it felt like a lifetime before Hyakkimaru’s weight suddenly sagged against him. He didn’t try to grab onto him or climb him, just laying against him. And Kaname let him, neither one moving from the spot until Jukai came to check on them.

Hyakkimaru never tried to give him a practice sword after that. In some ways, Kaname almost wished he could feel a bit guiltier about it. What if he hadn’t knocked the sword from his hands and he’d ended up seriously hurting him instead? If his hands hadn’t been made of wood, it might have ended up hurting him anyway.

Beyond that, Hyakkimaru had started doing something different after his practices. If he could still walk, he would make his way over to him, and lay pressed tight against his side, just like when his leg had been replaced. It would be an hour or so before he tried to get up or show him anything. If he couldn’t walk, then he would usually remain with Jukai until he was either put down for a nap, or handed off to Kaname.

As soon as he was handed off, he’d start clinging, wrapping his arms and legs around him like he thought he’d slide off if he held any lighter.

It wasn’t like he never wanted to stay with Jukai anymore. It wasn’t even like he didn’t pick Jukai most of the time. Then it probably wasn’t that he didn’t like the sword training. If that was the case, he probably wouldn’t have tried to give him the practice sword that day. He wouldn’t keep getting up when he was knocked down. Kaname himself had worked with him on enough of his exercises to know that if he was done, he’d make sure they knew.

If it wasn’t for Hyakkimaru’s having tried to give him the practice sword, he almost would have said he was worried Kaname was being left out. But if it wasn’t that, then what was it?

Jukai seemed to have his suspicions, judging by the way he’d smiled and looked away when Kaname brought it up. But he never quite said what those suspicions were. If he didn’t want to say it directly, then that probably meant…

“He does it to you too, you know,” he’d finally told him. It wasn’t exactly the same, of course. But he’d seen him cling to Jukai, too, and sometimes even in that same tight grip, wrapping his arms and legs around him like he’d disappear otherwise. It wasn’t like it was something he only ever did for Kaname, as if he was some pitiable thing—

In fact, he was doing it at that exact moment, having climbed up Jukai’s back as he’d slowed in his work, wrapping around him as much as he could and leaning against his head. There might have been times when he hid it pretty well, but if Hyakkimaru reacted to it, then there wasn’t much you could do about that.

“…I suppose he does,” he’d answered, reaching up to rest a hand on his head. Perhaps he’d meant it to reassure him, but with his extra senses, it wasn’t like he’d be that easy to fool.

As that evening had worn on, Hyakkimaru had remained firmly attached to his shoulders. At times, his grip would almost begin to slacken, but then moments later, he would give a little jolt and then it was as if his strength had renewed.

“You might see if you can take him from me,” Jukai said. “He’s tiring out, but he still refuses to fall asleep. There’s nothing I can do for him with him on my back.”

Kaname’s attempts to dislodge him were all but completely futile. Running a hand over his hair or along his back helped his grip to loosen a bit, but the second he reached to pluck him off, he would latch on, pressing himself even flatter against him.

“You’re going to have to turn in yourself if you want him to,” he shrugged, shaking his head at the sigh he received in response. Really, what did he expect with all the strength training he’d been giving him? He had no one to blame but himself for this.

There had been a pause as Jukai must have been weighing the merits of writing one more line, finishing just one more list. Then he stood. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of you were conspiring to do this…” There was no accusation in his tone, even as Hyakkimaru dropped into Kaname’s arms.

He couldn’t take credit for this one. But if he’d known this was the way to stop him from overworking himself, then yes, he would have taught him that years ago. Not that Jukai needed to know that.

Slowly, Hyakkimaru’s limbs grew limp and his breathing evened out, even as he tried to continue watching them. Don’t worry, Kaname wanted to whisper as he settled him down. He wouldn’t try to go back to work. He was already in the process of turning in.

Chapter Text

As he had slowly adjusted to the idea, he had started to notice there was a lot more to Hyakkimaru’s training than just being strong enough to use a sword. There was also speed and agility, and Jukai would have him running up and down, avoiding rocks and other obstacles he had created for him.

The demons continued to attack, and Jukai continued to fight them off. Hyakkimaru understood enough to avoid them, but they could never quite convince him to hide where Jukai wasn’t in his sight. Not without Kaname grabbing and carrying him there.

Over time, his training continued to be adjusted, and began to include things which Kaname was not entirely sure whether Jukai had been trained in, or learned on his own through experience. How to improvise weapons from the environment, how to use the environment to his advantage. It wasn’t impossible that he could have learned that in training, but the way in which he taught him to use it suggested otherwise. At the very least, it must have been a modified version, designed for fending off demons more than human foes.

At the same time, Kaname was relieved to find the training didn’t come to encompass the entirety of their lives. Even if he still worried that someday, it might. They continued to build prosthetics, to treat patients, to tend and grow their food. And the little brother he looked after didn’t disappear behind a tiny swordsman any more than the skinless worm baby had vanished behind a mask years before.

And of course, the training didn’t erase the child’s aversion for the market. They had found that sticking close to Jukai decreased the chances of Hyakkimaru’s running off, but even then, it seemed there was a limit to the amount of souls crowded and meandering which he could handle. Since they couldn’t predict who would be there on a given day, it was harder to figure out how to get around that.

Then, there was the issue of other kids. There were few who were openly cruel, and most of the ones who were older than him would quickly get bored when they realized he couldn’t hear them and wouldn’t respond, except perhaps to duck away if they tried to grab at his mask.

It was usually the smaller ones they needed to watch out for. The ones who would continue trailing long after it became clear he couldn’t hear them, trying to tug on his arms to come play even if they told them he couldn’t hear and wasn’t familiar with other children. Sometimes it was not long before their parents came looking for them, telling them not to go bothering other people and taking them back. But they had long since learned not to depend on it.

Hyakkimaru didn’t seem particularly intimidated by them, and that much was good. But there was only so long he could be there before he would try to bolt, or else he would wrap around Kaname’s leg, strong enough it almost felt like he could crush bone.

If they could get him to let go, that was usually the point that Jukai or Kaname would pick him up and carry him the rest of the way. “One of these days, you’re going to get too big for this, you know that?”

Sometimes, Kaname would get a forehead to the mouth for that, an awkward misfire of the times he’d butted their heads together. Or else he would rest his forehead against his neck, just in case any of them had any lingering questions about what had happened to the worm baby Jukai had taken in.

“You’ll spoil him,” Jukai had mused halfheartedly, almost as if he’d copied the phrase from someone else. As if he never picked him up and carried him anymore. And then, of course, as soon as they had set off for home, he’d ended up taking him.

Over the years, all of that had continued, with only a few changes which happened so gradually Kaname almost didn’t notice them. The moment he shifted from carrying Hyakkimaru on his hip to letting him ride on his back when he wanted up. Had he been eight, or was he closer to ten?

The only real marker that anything changed was when they needed to switch out Hyakkimaru’s prosthetics. When his old ones had started to become too obviously too short and needed to be swapped out before they started affecting the way he could move.

Hyakkimaru never quite got to the point of hiding from them, but he would stand there, watching them set up. He wouldn’t bolt, but they still needed to reassure him before he would lie down on the mat, before he would drink the anesthetic herb mixture.

“You’ve never quite liked this part, have you?” Jukai said, sturdy hand supporting his back until he took the cup and swallowed its contents. “I’m sure you like it even less with the demons prowling around. But we’ll be right here, and we will protect you if anything happens.”

If Kaname still questioned how he understood what Jukai had said, he no longer questioned that he understood it. There was always a change in how he sat, in the way he let himself be lowered down.

Once he was out, they would go to work, removing his bandages, changing his limbs, opening his back to change his spine, and then suturing it closed once it was properly aligned. This would always be the strangest part, because even with years of doing this, Kaname’s mind still screamed at him that the stitches should be going through skin. And that you couldn't just put a spine inside someone. Yet Hyakkimaru’s body left them with no choice.

His new bandages would have been properly prepared by that point, and once Jukai was certain all his limbs were properly attached, they would carefully wrap his exposed muscles. Ears, eyes, and nose would normally be attached at this point as well. If his mask was being replaced, then sometimes that would wait until he had woken up. It wasn’t entirely necessary anymore, not when they had long since figured out how to fit it to his face without suffocating him. But it had become almost part of a ritual for Hyakkimaru. Waking up, and then having his hair pushed back and his mask pressed over his face, something in that let him know it was over, and he would give the tiniest of exhales as it settled against his cheeks and forehead.

Prosthetic changes meant no training for at least a week. The surgery itself still took a lot out of Hyakkimaru, even if he didn’t sleep quite as long as he had when he was littler. He still had to adjust to moving with the new set. It was basically a growth spurt that happened all at once, instead of over time.

Regardless, training was out of the question until his stitches were removed. Of course, once he felt good enough to move around, it didn’t always matter to him that he could pull his stitches if he tried to train early.

Having him awake to get them removed didn’t seem to do much to stop him, either.

“Of course,” Jukai would sigh. “He feels no pain, and there’s no external danger, so of course he doesn’t understand…”

Even trying to explain it didn’t seem to work. In the end, he couldn’t feel it, so it was a concept with nothing real behind it.

Sometimes, Kaname could distract him by giving him his old legs to play with. It helped that he seemed to recognize them as the ones that had just been attached to him. And thankfully, he hadn’t decided to start looking for the older ones yet, but some part of him feared Hyakkimaru’s next growth spurt might change that.

There was always drugging him, of course, which Jukai was understandably reluctant to do. Even if it didn’t risk any complications, he still wanted him walking around so that he adjusted. It had been a joke, but perhaps it wasn’t one he should have made.

It was Jukai who came up with the solution. Hyakkimaru had gotten that look again, a slight tensing in his shoulders that let them know he needed to run and climb, stitches be damned, and Jukai had put a hand on his shoulder. Taking his hand, he pressed a small tool he used to smooth out prosthetics.

“How about you help me out with these, Hyakkimaru,”

Almost immediately, both hands were over it, feeling along it and turning it around, trying to figure out what it was as he was led to an unfinished limb and shown what to do with it.

“Of course,” he couldn’t help musing out loud, causing Jukai to turn to him with a raised brow.

Right. He would need to explain himself now, wouldn’t he?

“Because he changes the way he does things, I thought he wouldn’t be able to… The idea of letting him smooth it out never occurred to me.” Even if there was no reason it shouldn’t have.

“Ah.” Jukai’s gaze drifted back to where Hyakkimaru had swapped his grip, holding the tool so that most of it was below where his little finger would have been, rather than turning his wrist to aim it from between his forefinger and thumb. “This one’s only a prototype. There’s no harm in letting him try his hand. And,” he continued, kneeling down beside him and guiding him to hold it properly. “I’m hoping it takes him awhile to learn.”

“At least long enough to take his stitches out, right?” Kaname grinned.

Sometime later that day, it hit him, the joke he had made, the fact that on some level, Hyakkimaru was doing prosthetic work. That this probably wasn’t going to be his normal occupation even if he ever outgrew his skittishness around crowds, that he was only doing this so he wouldn’t try to run, climb, train… That he was only training because demons kept attacking him, that there was something about him which made him more appealing to their appetites… And he had gone and cracked a joke about pulling stitches, and probably the only reason Jukai hadn’t said anything was because he was preoccupied with fixing Hyakkimaru’s grip and probably hadn’t heard him.

A sudden force against his back caused him to lurch forward, dropping everything in his hands as he struggled to keep his balance, nearly losing his footing.

“Did you just jump?” Of course he had. He’d known how to jump almost as long as he’d had legs. More importantly, he didn’t come up to Kaname’s chin while standing on the ground.

Jukai had gone outside, and he thought he’d taken Hyakkimaru with him. But the dangling mass of ten-year-old clinging around his shoulders told him otherwise. If he’d come back in, he should at least have heard him opening the door.

“All right,” he said, carefully lowering himself to a kneeling position. “You win, kiddo. Now let’s get you down before you pull something.”

Of course, Hyakkimaru had other ideas. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he clung even tighter, nestling his face against his back and trying to pull him back and forth. It probably would have passed for rocking if he wasn’t still so much smaller than him.

He wouldn’t let go if he thought Kaname was still distressed. Of course not. With a sigh, he reached back and brushed his fingers over his hair, patting as close to his shoulders as he could reach on the prosthetics.

“C’mon, let go of me, and I’ll check your stitches and then you can rock.” There was no guarantee the offer would translate into the strange language Hyakkimaru understood, and he blamed Jukai for his continuing to speak out loud.

It had taken longer than he would have liked to convince him to let go, and Jukai had arrived partway into Kaname’s attempt to check beneath his bandages. It had only taken a moment for him to guess what happened.

“Ah. Hyakkimaru jumped?”

By this point, Kaname could only echo, a resigned edge to his voice. “Hyakkimaru jumped. And hung on.”

It wouldn’t be hard for him to guess from there what had happened, but this time, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

When they had removed his bandages and checked his spine, it was hard to say if one had been pulled, or when. Jukai frowned. “He shouldn’t be healed this fast.”

In that moment, Kaname saw what he meant. One of the sutures just above his shoulders had pulled, yet there was no evidence that he had been hurt by it, pain or no pain.

Kaname felt his throat dry, and he swallowed against that pain. “Is this more of that power you were talking about?”

Jukai hadn’t been able to answer. It wasn’t as though he needed to.

The next attack had come only two days after the stitches had been removed. Kaname had seen something whip past him as he was drawing water, and heard the screech only seconds later.

There was Jukai’s shout for Hyakkimaru to get back, a vicious spitting, snarling sound, and then he heard the strike connect.

He dropped the bucket. He barely registered the water sloshing over his foot.

He could remedy that in a moment, he thought, turning and rushing towards them once the sound had stopped. “Are you both all right?”

It hadn’t been very large. From the looks of it, he wasn’t even sure what it was. Some kind of weasel with the skin of a lizard? He’d never even heard of something like that, unless the creature had somehow been killed mid-shift. It wouldn’t be the first shapeshifter to attack.

“Hyakkimaru…” Jukai’s voice faltered, but that didn’t stop him from reaching for him, coaxing him to release his wooden sword, and lifting him up.

The moment he’d let go, Kaname realized what had happened. The practice sword was wedged into the demon’s mouth, a trail of blood running off of it. “Did he…?”

Jukai settled him against his hip—and with a pang, Kaname realized he no longer fit in the crook of his elbow. How long had it been since he had? “Yes and no. I struck the blow that killed it, but Hyakkimaru left his mark as well.”

“He tried to fight it?” That was fine for something this size, but if it had been any bigger…

“It lunged for him, and that was why he attacked.” Jukai sighed. “I suppose I should be relieved he understands what his training is for.”

He’d seen Jukai fight them. Why wouldn’t he figure out that’s what he was supposed to do? Kaname resisted the urge to comment. “I’ll finish getting water, then I’ll come back to the house.”

When he’d returned, it had only been Jukai’s timely interference which prevented Hyakkimaru from leaping up and tackling him to the ground.

Chapter Text

At twelve, Hyakkimaru made his first kill. And maybe the lizard thing from years ago should have counted, but that time, he hadn’t been the one to strike the killing blow. With this one, he had. In Kaname’s mind, that made it different.

The not-fox had returned. Or at least another like it had come, at the wrong time and in the wrong season. It had been prowling around the house, watching with eyes far too comfortable around humans. Like before, Hyakkimaru had watched it in kind. But this time, he’d kept the wooden sword within his reach, never letting Kaname or Jukai out of his sight.

They’d watched him as it darted off. How his limbs would almost shake with the need to run after it. Yet this time, he didn’t. Maybe he remembered being little, chasing after it, being snatched away and carried back to the house. Being chased and attacked by something much bigger in the following spring.

But whatever the reason, he watched the creature as it watched him, and this had slowly become just another normal to them.

At the same time, Kaname almost wished it would hurry up and attack. Just to get it over with. That was what would happen in the end. It would attack, Hyakkimaru would defend, Jukai would finish it off. It never happened any differently.

When it started stalking around just as Jukai had gone inside, however, a growing alarm flared in his skull. Kaname sat down the log he had started to cut down, and crossed over to Hyakkimaru. “Come on,” he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We need to go insi—”

A vicious snarl cut him off, and the not-fox was suddenly far closer than it should have been able.

He tried to grab Hyakkimaru and push him inside, but he had shifted his grip so that he was the one being shoved, snapping his arm back to throw the creature off. He was so lucky his arms were made of wood.

It was a short, ugly fight. The second time it lunged, Hyakkimaru caught it with his sword and dashed it to the ground, keeping himself between it and Kaname.

The screen slid open and Jukai was out, but before he had reached the scene, there was a hellish screech from the creature, and then it was still.

Hyakkimaru, on the other hand, had not seemed to realize this, and swung his weapon down again. As Kaname pushed himself to his feet, Jukai had swept Hyakkimaru up, holding him until he had stopped thrashing and started turning to look around. Then he sat him down, resting his forehead against his mask before shifting to take his weapon and checking to see that the not-fox was dead.

“We should bury it somewhere away from the house,” Jukai spoke. Neither of them dared hope it would be the last of them.

Kaname turned, trying to guide Hyakkimaru back inside, but he had planted and refused to move, growing stiffer with each effort to turn him. And here he’d thought he would outgrow that. But then, when he couldn’t just say he wanted to do something else instead, when he couldn’t explain why it was what he wanted…

“I think Hyakkimaru needs to go with you,” he said. “I’ll stick close to him so he doesn’t run off.”

He wouldn’t run off. Not that soon after an attack. But hopefully, Jukai wouldn’t see through him and call his bluff.

After entirely too long of a pause, Jukai blinked almost too rapidly. “Of course.”

When they had finished, Jukai had taken care of Hyakkimaru’s wounds and painstakingly replaced his bandages. Then he had moved on to Kaname.

“Are you all right?” he’d asked.

“It didn’t hurt me,” Kaname answered. Jukai frowned.

It hadn’t hurt him, but Hyakkimaru was hovering again, standing just to the side and angled like he was expecting to attack something coming through the door, edging closer until his arm was pressed against his side. That wouldn’t exactly support an answer of “I’m fine,” even if Jukai would have believed it otherwise.

Instead, he turned, resting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder, letting him feel the pressure before running it over his back as he had so many times in the past. “You’re all right,” he whispered to him. “It can’t hurt you anymore.” But he couldn’t shake the thought that Hyakkimaru had shoved him. It had been after him. Had it been the same creature out for revenge? If it wanted the small boy with strange power, it didn’t make any sense to lunge for his older brother whose only feat was surviving losing a leg at five or six years old. He had to have been imagining things. Perhaps Hyakkimaru had simply panicked when it attacked. That had to be it.

It wasn’t like they’d ever be able to find out the truth, anyway. There was no reason to think about it.

“Kaname.” He flinched at a tone he’d come to know all-too-well and never quite forgotten. He wasn’t going to be able to side-step this one, was he?

But he wasn’t ready to tell him how Hyakkimaru had pushed him out of the way, how he wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that one way or another, he had been the one who pushed him to kill. That he understood it would have happened even if he hadn’t been there, that he was going to have to kill or else be eaten eventually. He understood that.

That didn’t mean he had to like it. It didn’t mean he was ready for it.

“I need time,” he finally said. “If…today, if he hadn’t…”

Jukai’s worried expression began to soften. “Then something would have happened?” An understatement if he’d ever made one. He hesitated a moment before resting his hand on Kaname’s shoulder, and he wanted to snap that he wasn’t a child. “You’ve never quite gotten used to this, have you? The monsters, Hyakkimaru’s training…Even before that, you’d dealt with so much…”

“There isn’t anything you could have done.” Kaname found himself pulling away, reaching for Hyakkimaru even though he was too big to be carried as he’d done before. If Jukai had tried to bring it up before, he wouldn’t have listened. He was certain of that.

Digging everything back up wouldn’t have helped him then, and it wouldn’t help him now.

For a moment, it seemed as though Jukai would argue. Instead, he sat down beside the two of them. Whatever had happened before, they could only continue living. “It will continue to happen,” he continued. “My hope is that once the demons realize he won’t be an easy meal even when he’s alone, the attacks will grow less frequent. But that may be a fool’s optimism.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I ought to have remained with the two of you today. I’d seen the creature stalking, and gave it an opening even though I should have known it would take it. I’ll remain close by, at least until things settle down.”

“It won’t.” The second it was out, he knew he shouldn’t have said it. Hyakkimaru was fully leaning against him, and Kaname focused on his weight, on the cool wood of his arms. Things were fine for now. There was no reason to fixate on how they wouldn’t always be.

“Not for awhile, at least,” Jukai agreed. “It might be months or years.”

Kaname swallowed. “I don’t need to go to somewhere safer until then.” He wasn’t a child anymore. There was no reason to worry. “I still need to improve my prosthetics work, especially around hands and fingers. Beyond that, it isn’t fair to him.”

“That’s true. It isn’t, to him or to you.”

A breath released which he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It must have shifted his grip somehow, because Hyakkimaru twisted himself around, trying to look at them before squirming loose and starting to search for something.

For a moment, they worried that he had sensed more ghouls in the house. But after a minute or so, he came bolting back towards Jukai, pointing to his face and opening his mouth.

That had drawn a smile from each of them. “Yes, I suppose you’ve got the right idea, Hyakkimaru,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Once Kaname had stood, Hyakkimaru returned to his position at his side. It wouldn’t be a late night for them this time. They would eat, they would clean the pot, and then they would turn in. Hyakkimaru would need time to shift from guarding to eating to resting, but when he was the one who’d suggested food, perhaps this would be one of his easier nights.

Perhaps, at least this time, it could be an easier night for all of them.

Chapter Text

For almost a week, it seemed as though the demons had gotten the idea. The child they wanted to eat was no longer helpless, and although he would continue to depend on a guardian for assistance for some time, they shouldn’t think they would be able to take him even if Jukai wasn’t with him.

Of course, each of them understood that was no reason to let their guard down. But it was oddly nice not to have to look over their shoulders constantly to make sure that the thing stalking hadn’t pounced.  

At least, it would have been if Hyakkimaru had been able to relax from his guardlike stance for any of that time. If Kaname hadn’t thought the not-fox had lunged for him before, Hyakkimaru’s behavior left very little room for questioning it. If he went out to draw water or collect firewood, if he decided to start cutting down a prosthetic outside or went to check on the garden, there he was, right behind him, wooden sword in hand, constantly surveying the area around them.

It wasn’t as though he could blame him, Kaname thought. This had been his normal for almost half his life.

The memory of himself and Jukai hovering over a tiny child with no limbs and a talent for finding sharp objects suddenly came to him. It was more often that they’d watched him separately back then, and yet…

“Hey,” he said, nudging Hyakkimaru with his elbow. “Is this what we looked like when you were little?”

When he looked at it that way, he could almost see it as him returning the favor, now that he had that ability. Hyakkimaru didn’t take his eyes off of the path, but he did return the nudge.

Their week of reprieve ended when they had returned from pulling weeds, and Hyakkimaru cut down a grotesque-looking gremlin just outside their house.

Instead of acting as a warning, it was almost as if the death of the not-fox acted as a signal for competition. At first, it was more of the same, small creatures. But then, somewhere in there, the lizards started getting bigger, the demons started trying to swarm, and Hyakkimaru had rooted them out of their house several times.

The next month brought seven lizards of varying sizes, two or three shadowy creatures even Jukai hadn’t been able to identify, a shapeshifter who had tried to get in their house in the guise of a patient only to be ambushed at the door, four kamaitachi, also of varying sizes, a monstrous beetle which Hyakkimaru had simply stepped on, and a screeching demon bird which made Kaname envy his lack of hearing.

Oh. And a giant ape which looked bigger even than what Kaname had believed sarugami would be. With its massive arms and vicious teeth, he had worried it would be too much for Hyakkimaru to handle. Even one swipe of its paws would have killed any of them, and it almost would have been better to avoid it until it went away. But Hyakkimaru had managed to avoid its attacks, then vaulted off of a tree and lodged his sword in its forehead.

Even with the extra experience, Hyakkimaru continued to have problems recognizing when the creatures were dead. Short of decapitating them or splitting them in half—both of which he had done on multiple occasions—he never seemed to realize it was over until it had already been still for several seconds longer than he should have needed.

If Jukai wasn’t around when the fighting stopped, Kaname tended not to tell him that this kept happening. It wasn’t as though it distracted him from fighting swarms of them, or like he didn’t stop after that extra time. So he got a little worked up until he was sure. It was understandable considering just how he’d been exposed to them, wasn’t it?

Still, that extra moment of stress couldn’t be good for him. Once he had backed off from his latest kill, they would take him back to the house to check his wounds and get the blood out of his clothes, hair, and mask. Because it was tedious to have to trim it constantly, Jukai’d had him start growing his hair out. Tied back, it had just started to reach his shoulders, and though he still struggled to tie it himself, Hyakkimaru would put his hands on theirs as they helped him. He hadn’t quite adapted to his newly-articulated fingers, but perhaps this would be something he could learn.

When they had finished, Kaname or Jukai would press their forehead against his mask. It was over. They were safe.

This day in particular had been a busy one for Hyakkimaru, who had disappeared from their sight for the first time since he was a child and come back covered in blood and heralded by the shrieks of a monster neither of them had wanted to think too much about. He had barely been able to focus when they had eaten, and had ended up needing Kaname to help him hold the bowl while he sipped from it, and had turned in shortly after.

“I wonder if there was more than one…” Kaname found himself wondering aloud.

Jukai had been writing, and paused mid-stroke. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something. But then he only sighed heavily, finishing the line.

“Actually, now that I think about it,” he continued. “He’s been getting farther away from the house. Compared to last month, there aren’t as many demons trying to get in, either.” Not that there weren’t still a lot. “It’s like he’s setting up a perimeter. Did you teach him to do that?” It might not have been the right thing to say, but if he could force Jukai to answer him, it might do him some good, especially if he was making that sigh again.

This time, Jukai put down the brush. “I taught him to protect his own body and to be aware of his surroundings. Everything else…” he sighed again, much shakier than before. “He feels no pain, so he knows no fear. He has no hesitation towards fighting and killing…”

“I don’t know that I believe that,” Kaname said before he could stop himself. “His first kill was to defend me. He followed you after. I think he was afraid of losing you.”

Maybe he still was. Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop until he knew the demons were dead.

In that moment, he had turned to Hyakkimaru’s still form with a look of such guilt that Kaname knew he wasn’t supposed to have seen it. “Forgive me…”

There was no way to acknowledge what he’d said without acknowledging that guilt. And he was almost certainly the wrong person to do so.

His next words came so softly Kaname had to strain to hear. “In the beginning, I had only wanted one thing for him. That he would overcome his destiny, and live strongly.”

Dying mutilated and alone was no destiny. That was what Kaname had come to believe. Just because someone had gotten it in their head that they could…and then just cast him on a river like it erased what they did…But this time, he held his tongue.

“At first, that was all, but…” His hands clenched against his thighs, hard enough that Kaname had to wince just watching it.

“Is there something else, now?” he asked.

Jukai sucked in a harsh breath in response, turning his head away from him. “Have I made another wrong decision?”

A sudden anger bloomed in Kaname’s chest. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, that there was so much more to that statement than just what he said. Yet he found himself standing. Because he had still said it. “How could you say that?” Jukai flinched as though he’d been struck. “If you hadn’t…If you hadn’t taught him to fight, he’d be dead right now! Or I would be! Or he would have died years ago! Do you think it would’ve been better for him to have died on the boat?” Alone, afraid, unable to understand why anyone would do that to him and why no one would protect him. “Or me! Would it be better if I had bled out back then!?”

“Sometimes I think it might h…!” As soon as he had spoken, Jukai must have regretted it. Before he had even finished it, he must have regretted it. Though it didn’t change what he had almost said, and Kaname remembered a time when he would have agreed with him.

And maybe, he thought, swallowing a wave of nausea, that time had contributed to this. You could live and learn, but it wouldn’t erase the impact of what you had done. He still believed that. But then, dying wouldn’t erase it either. Even if everyone who knew was gone, it wouldn’t mean it hadn’t happened. And, if you were gone, it meant you couldn't prevent anything like it from happening again, to someone else.

“It wouldn’t have brought my parents back,” he said, his voice oddly strained and soft. “If you'd succeeded when... If you’d let me bleed out, or left Hyakkimaru, or chosen not to give him limbs or teach him how to fight. It wouldn’t have brought anyone back.” 

He felt his hands shaking, and gripped at his clothes to still them. “I think…a lot more people would be dead right now if you didn’t exist. And not just by the samurai. People who survived their wounds would be begging and starving. Or they’d be eaten by demons. A doctor is a doctor, and people who are really monstrous don’t stop adding to their body count. If that’s really what you were, then you should have killed me.” Either to silence him or just because.

“Kaname…” Jukai reached for him, but hesitated, blinking hard as if to hold back tears.

“Hyakkimaru still needs you, and I can’t make working fingers yet.” He wasn’t making sense. Everything was coming out in starts and stops. He still didn’t think it was possible to atone, not completely, not in a way that could truly erase what he had done, but it didn’t mean that no one should ever be allowed to see anything else.

How long had it been this bad? Since Hyakkimaru had killed the not-fox? Before? Had it ever not been this bad?

He opened his mouth to ask, knowing he was probably asking too much, when they were interrupted by a dull thumping. Hyakkimaru must have roused, must have somehow felt the argument, and was making his way over to Jukai in that half-asleep state. He dropped to his knees beside him, almost frantically feeling along his face with his hands.

It would be so easy for Jukai to claim that of course this was how he would respond, because he didn’t know, he couldn’t know. But in that moment, it was as though something had broken inside him, and he grabbed onto Hyakkimaru with both arms, pulling him to him in a fierce, protective embrace as his shoulders shook.

Hyakkimaru wouldn’t reciprocate, though he seemed to understand the gesture. And Kaname knew from experience that even if he wouldn’t hug back, he would still lean against him with all his weight.

But seeing him now, as his father held him and sobbed quietly, he knew it was not something he should be watching. In that moment, the only thing he could do was to avert his eyes until everything had quieted down.

Chapter Text

Hyakkimaru’s perimeter seemed to do its job. Where the monsters had surged in the initial months, once he had established his line, they had begun to see less of them, and those he went after remained farther out. It was probably for the best, since Jukai’s being unable to find the bodies meant that he couldn’t obsess over burying them. Kaname would have Hyakkimaru take him to some of them. There might have been a reason they needed to be buried, but for Jukai's sake, it was better if he wasn't the one to do it.

His latest “project” had been going into the little forest and coming back with a busted sword and blood on his arms.

“He’s trying to re-take the forest…” Jukai observed, surveying the direction he’d run off.

Kaname had listened for any hint of horror or guilt as he’d spoken. But he continued, “I can’t deny he has a practical reason to do so. Even if it hadn’t been his play area before, there’s the wood to make prosthetics, and even without that, it’s a place for monsters to hide.”

There was a tiny pang of regret at that. Even if he could root them all out, it wouldn’t make up for the lost years of playing there. But maybe, in Hyakkimaru’s case, he would try to play again once the location was safe, learning the way it had changed in the time he’d grown. He’d like that, even if he would have to work harder to find branches that wouldn't snap when he swung on them.

Naturally, the very next moment they heard a wet, squelching snarl. It shouldn’t have been anything to worry about, but a shared glance between Kaname and Jukai said that something was wrong. Jukai’s hand closed around the gardening hoe, and they took off in the direction they’d heard the sound.

As they had run, Kaname allowed himself to fall back. If Hyakkimaru was doing badly, then he didn’t want to be in the way of the one person who could actually help.

They arrived just in time to see Hyakkimaru on his hands and knees, ripping his sword loose from the maw of a large, bipedal creature with multiple claws and too much muscle for its narrow frame. With one final shriek, it dropped dead.

Hyakkimaru pressed the end of his sword to the ground and pushed himself to his feet, peeling what Kaname realized was the creature’s tongue from his left arm. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened from there. More likely than not, it had grabbed him with that tongue, and Hyakkimaru, in return, had used his momentum to force the weapon through its skull. Not the most pleasant of ways to go, but it was better than being squeamish and winding up eaten because of it.

And, he couldn’t help noticing, Hyakkimaru wasn’t continuing to attack this time. So at least it helped him understand it was dead.

However, Jukai didn’t seem to share his relief. “Hyakkimaru? Are you all right?” he’d asked, sounding more alarmed than before.

As he turned to look, he realized what was worrying him. Where he had been still before, he now trembled uncontrollably, joints rattling as he stared ahead. “What’s wrong?”

The sword dropped from his hand, and he followed shortly after. “Hyakkimaru!”

Was the creature’s spit poisonous? Had it managed to soak through his bandages? Suddenly, Kaname would have preferred to watch him keep beating it to this.

“Your right leg?” Kaname jolted out of his thoughts as he followed Jukai’s gaze to where Hyakkimaru’s prosthetic lie uselessly on the ground. “Ah, you must have been rough on it…”

Their relief was swallowed up a moment later when they looked and saw that he was still shaking, frantically pressing his hands to the stump of his leg.

“What’s wrong? Hyakkimaru?” he kept repeating.

He can’t hear you! Kaname wanted to snap for the first time in he didn’t know how long. His nerves may have been winding tighter and tighter, but that was no reason to take it out on them.

Suddenly, Hyakkimaru leaned forward, pressing the stump of his thigh with both forearms as Jukai gasped and Kaname jumped. Beneath the hem of his kimono, something had started to form. A mass of muscle and bone grew out past his bent leg, and he squirmed as in discomfort, leaning harder against it. But he didn’t feel pain—he couldn’t feel pain—

“Just what in the world…” Jukai whispered.

Kaname stood and moved to put a hand on his back to steady him, but Hyakkimaru jerked away, pressing even tighter against his leg. He shouldn’t be able to feel pain. It shouldn’t have hurt him.

For another few agonizing seconds, he sat there, shaking and holding his thigh as the bones of his foot grew in, then the gaps stitched in with muscle, and finally, the small bones of his toes grew in at the end.

When it had stopped, Hyakkimaru sat breathing for a moment longer. Then he gave an experimental wiggle of his toes before beginning to reach for his leg using his hands.

“A leg…a real leg is growing in…” Jukai started as if to reach for it, but stopped himself. “But that…that isn’t possible…”

And Kaname wished he could have offered some explanation for it, but if he’d been able to think of anything whatsoever to say, it would only have been more of what Jukai was saying. Instead, he turned back to Hyakkimaru, who was still feeling along his new leg, seeming almost unaware that either of them was with him. He reached for the top of his little brother’s head, moving slowly in case he startled again. It shouldn’t hurt him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be averse to it.

As his hand came to rest just on top of his hair, Hyakkimaru paused, then went right back to what he’d been doing, with no effort to dislodge or avoid his hand. So Kaname carefully ran his fingers over his hair and along his ponytail. He may not have understood any better than him what was going on, but at least he could try to assure him it would be all right.

Slowly, over what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few minutes, the tension drained out of them. Hyakkimaru had taken his hands off his leg, and Jukai realized what he was doing just as he started to push against the ground.

“Hold on, there,” he said. “You aren’t quite ready to walk on that yet. For one thing, we haven’t bandaged it…”

With a practiced motion, he slid one arm under Hyakkimaru’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting him as if he was barely any bigger than he’d been at six or eight. And Hyakkimaru simply settled against him. He supposed regrowing a limb had to be exhausting work, even if you couldn’t feel the painful part of it.

“Come, let’s get back to the house…”

At nearly fifteen years of age, Hyakkimaru had grown a limb. Which was perhaps the strangest thing that had ever happened in any of their lives. Yet despite his pounding heart, despite the anxiety coursing through his body, some part of Kaname thought that if he learned nothing else, it was that their situation could always be stranger.

As they wrapped his leg, Hyakkimaru lie on the mat, watching them. On the way back, he had continued to experiment with the way it moved, as much as he could while being carried, but now it seemed that the combination of the fight and his limb had caught up to him. Save for the occasional, lazy circling of his foot or flexing of his toes, he was effectively still.

Of course, that still caused a bit of trouble for Jukai before he’d figured out the interval. “Hyakkimaru,” he chided, then paused, shaking his head.

“Hm?” Kaname glanced up.

“Ah.” He gave a small smile. “Hyakkimaru knows better than to move around while he’s being wrapped, even if it’s part of his motion exercises. But in this case…”

He gestured downwards. Initially, nothing seemed to be any different. Hyakkimaru was lying on his back, expression neutral as always. With the exception of his new leg, his limbs rested on the mat, unmoving. But if he watched the angle of his head, it was tipped slightly to the right, allowing him to watch as his new leg was held and wrapped.

In a way, it reminded him of waking from his own prosthetic surgeries, of finding his little brother pressed against him, or, as he’d gotten older, standing guard by his side. But in this case, it was the opposite of what was…supposed to happen, for lack of a better word. People didn’t lose their prosthetics and come back from it with a leg made of muscle and bone. But then, they didn’t survive without skin or a spine, either. Maybe this was another of those things that was normal to Hyakkimaru. Maybe…it might have been the reason he was attacked and cast out as a baby. Whoever had done it might have thought they could take power by…

But then, how could anyone have known back then?

“It’s a lot to think about,” Jukai observed, startling him out of his thoughts. “And…quite a bit of it makes sense now…”

Something about that statement sent a spike of nerves through him. “You mean you have an idea of why…” He swept his hand in the direction of Hyakkimaru’s leg, causing him to turn his head to follow him.

Jukai tucked the end of the bandage, then helped Hyakkimaru to sit up. “Ghouls don’t just eat people,” he said gravely, continuing to move him, guiding him through some range of motion exercises. “At times, they may delude people and lend them their powers, allowing a person to benefit from those supernatural powers. But in return, they take something away.”

A baby didn’t have the ability to make that kind of deal, Kaname thought, unsure of whether he felt more lightheaded or nauseated in that moment. He swallowed hard, “So you’re saying…”

“Your body may have been taken from you in such an arrangement,” Jukai finished, addressing the statement to Hyakkimaru as he brushed his bangs back.

“I thought that someone…Then why…” Kaname felt himself shaking. Was this supposed to be better than hurting him for no reason? “Why didn’t they take that person? Why not take an arm or a leg, why take an entire…”

Why use a baby as a substitute?

Jukai’s arm went rigid for a moment. “A person who’s blinded by that kind of ambition can be capable of almost anything…”

A hill full of bodies nailed to crosses sprang forth in his mind. The stench of blood, the groans of the dying and his own heart pounding as he ran, screaming for his father even though…

“Kaname.” A wooden hand on his shoulder jolted him out of the memory. Rather, memories. If it had all happened at once, he knew he wouldn’t have survived long enough for Jukai to find him.

Realizing he had doubled over, he pushed himself back to a seated position. Kaname had seen plenty of the effects, but for Jukai…how close had he come to seeing that ambition firsthand? And was it through Lord Shiba, or had it once existed in himself…

“Sorry, I…” He took ahold of Hyakkimaru’s hand, focusing on the temperature, on the feeling of the joints.

Jukai shook his head. “A lot has changed in a short amount of time.” And at the same time, nothing had. “It’s bound to be overwhelming.”

Right. Things were changing again. “Then, what should we… How does this change the way we’re doing things?”

“For now, we’ll focus on replacing Hyakkimaru’s left leg. My measurements were estimated from his existing proportions, but the one he’s grown in today…” He gestured to where Hyakkimaru was sitting. At first, Kaname didn’t see anything different, but as he studied his legs he saw that the left was slightly shorter than the right. “I don’t know that it’s enough to make him limp, but with his spine being the way it is, I don’t want to risk any impact it might have on the rest of his body. Until it’s ready, we might try attaching a bit of wood to the one he has now to make up for the difference.”

If Hyakkimaru noticed it, he wouldn’t like that. One foot feeling completely different to step on, and the other suddenly flat against the earth. But perhaps he’d be too preoccupied with the fact that one leg was different (or with the way his legs now mirrored Kaname’s) to think too much of it.

“Is that all?” Surely, there had to be more for them to worry about. If the person who’d done this to him originally found out he’d gotten a leg back and went looking for him to undo it. But maybe the fact that they’d abandoned him instead of killing him outright meant that the arrangement needed him alive.

There were too many factors, and Kaname didn’t know enough about this kind of thing to even know which parts he should be most worried about.

“I…” Jukai stopped himself, brow furrowing as he weighed the merits of telling him. “With what happened today, it may be possible for Hyakkimaru to recover the rest of his body.”

“Of course…” It made sense. “If one of those things had his leg, then of course others are going to have the rest of him. They’ll catch his trail and start coming here, and he’ll be able to get the rest back.” And maybe, they would stop attacking him once that happened. If he’d beaten ones powerful enough to take his body, that had to be enough to dissuade the rest! “But that could take years! Can…is that okay for him? Just waiting for the next attack…” for the rest of his life until then.

How was that any better than before? Just constantly looking over his shoulder for the next attack, hoping that maybe this one would have one of his body parts and maybe that would be the last one and maybe the demons would leave him alone then?

He had known it was too much to ask for his life to be easy and for him to stay as innocent as when he was little forever. Of course he had to grow up, and of course that wouldn’t look the way it had for Kaname. He just…hadn’t expected so much of that to include being stalked by and killing demons, hadn’t thought it could get any more…any more than that.

“No,” Jukai agreed, watching as Hyakkimaru closed his fingers over Kaname’s hand. “I don’t intend for him to wait around to be attacked.”

You won’t like it, but… Why was he remembering this now? “But…?”

Jukai only shook his head. “For now, it’s only a thought. It would take time to prepare, and even then… For the time being, let’s focus on adjusting to this.”

As he watched Hyakkimaru making his way over to him, trying to signal him back over with Jukai, Kaname desperately wished he could believe that was all.

Chapter Text

Just as Jukai had said, their first priority was replacing Hyakkimaru’s prosthetic. And just as Kaname had suspected, Hyakkimaru had not enjoyed having an extra bit of wood attached to that foot. If they didn’t keep him distracted, whether with motion exercises or having him help with another task, it wasn’t long before he would start trying to remove it.

Which he was doing at that exact moment. “Hey, you,” Kaname said, tapping him on the head to get his attention. Hyakkimaru didn’t quite turn to him, but paused in his efforts. This time, he laid a hand on his shoulder, then held it out for him. “Let’s go check on the garden.”

There was a moment as he debated whether or not to take it, and then Hyakkimaru reached out for the offered hand, pulling himself to his feet, and allowing Kaname to lead him outside and direct him to the areas they were going to tend.

Almost immediately, he went to work. Of course, Kaname knew better than to believe he’d completely forgotten his earlier intentions. He’d have to keep an eye on him the longer they were at it. But at least this should have been able to keep him occupied for a little while.

…Something was different about the way he moved. Granted, some of it could probably be attributed to his having one foot flat, at least for a little while. As for the rest of it, he found himself wondering if he’d always done this. But if he’d curled his ankle like that since age two, surely one of them would have noticed.

Regardless, if he kept doing that on a real leg, he was going to cause problems for himself. It would probably be better to stop him before it became a habit, but at the same time…

Even without pain, his new leg must have felt strange to him. Kaname could still remember his adjustment to his own prosthetic, feeling this new connection where there shouldn’t have been one. Being a child and feeling as though he ought to have had another leg there. Why had this thing been in its place?

“Do you ever feel anything like that?” he wondered aloud. Of course, Hyakkimaru wouldn’t answer him. Even if he could have heard him, the question wouldn’t have made sense on its own. “Or maybe you feel it the other way around.”

Maybe he was expecting not to feel anything, expecting the familiar pressure of his prosthetic, and then…

Kaname brought a hand to his temple. Maybe this was a bit too much to try to wrap his mind around. It would probably be better just to wait until Hyakkimaru could tell him what it was like. Though he supposed writing it was always an option.

There was a clack of wood on wood and he looked up just in time to see him quickly shifting back to weeding the radishes. “I saw that, you know,” he grinned, giving him a little shove.

Once he’d turned back to his own weeding, Hyakkimaru returned the favor.

Hyakkimaru had never been quite so eager to go into a surgery before, not even when he’d been a child and splintered his legs. But this time, he had practically thrown himself on the mat, shrugging out of his kimono and holding out his hands for the medicine he’d always hated.

“Heh,” Jukai chuckled. “I’m almost surprised you aren’t trying to operate on yourself. Was the extra support that terrible?”

“Don’t give him any ideas.” Kaname was admittedly uncertain of how that would happen, but by this point, he’d learned better than to assume.

Old habits died hard, it turned out, and once he’d brought the cup to his lips, he hesitated before swallowing its contents, gripping onto Jukai’s sleeve as it began to take effect.

“I know. You’re all right. Don’t worry. You won’t be out as long this time.”

Once his grip had slackened, they went to work. How strange. This might be the last time they ever did this kind of surgery. Though no sooner had he thought that than the possibility that something else might happen crept in. That didn’t matter now. Not while they were attaching a limb to him.

Upon waking up, he had gone into almost a contemplative state, just sitting there, staring at his two different legs, bending and straightening them, but making no move to get up as he would have done before. Early on, this was to be expected. He would still be exhausted from the surgery itself. But there was normally a certain energy about him, making it clear he was going to get up the second he was able, and putting Jukai on edge with the fear that one day he would, and they wouldn’t be able to stop him before he hurt himself.

He wondered if that would have been preferable. But he’d had the leg for almost a week. Why was it just now starting to bother him?

“Hey, you.” He rested a hand on his right shoulder, sitting down beside him so that their legs were pressed together. “Remember this?”

Hyakkimaru’s mask still didn’t allow for much expression, but he could see the stunned stillness that suddenly went through his entire frame. For a moment, he sat there, staring at their two legs.

Then suddenly, he had reached across for Kaname’s prosthetic, as if he no longer knew it was there.

For awhile after that, Jukai’s work with him had continued to be built around learning his new leg, the limitations to how it worked, the ways in which it differed from a prosthetic. It was as unfamiliar for Jukai as for any of the rest of them.

Kaname had asked how he knew what to do, and Jukai had admitted, “I don’t. But for now, I’ve been looking at it as if he was healing from a broken bone, as well as learning to walk for the first time.” Both and neither at once.

But then, other lessons had started to creep in. Hyakkimaru began learning to wrap and unwrap his own bandages, how he could identify different salves and medicines using marks Jukai cut into their containers. How to find food in the bushes, not that this was anything new. Finding fruit had almost always been one of his jobs.

Suddenly, after years of avoiding it, Hyakkimaru had returned to accompanying them in the marketplace. His stance still changed upon arrival, becoming stiffer even if he wasn’t trying to run away. Kaname knew something was wrong when he pointed to one of the cucumbers, the eggplant, and some rice, and held out money for them.

When they had returned to the house, Hyakkimaru had taken off sprinting around his perimeter, wild and almost frantic. Not quite the same as when he was after something. Actually, it almost resembled his speeding around when winter ended. Even if he was older now.

He’d probably never grow to like the marketplace, even after he’d gotten everything back.

Still. His run meant that Jukai was unoccupied, and he could speak without worrying that his little brother would overhear, for lack of a better word.

“What else have you been teaching him?” he asked.

“Hm?” Jukai startled from the vegetables he was cutting.

“At the marketplace today. You had Hyakkimaru make the purchase. This wasn’t the first time you’ve had him do that, was it? You’ve been having him learn medicine, too. What else have you been teaching him?”

Jukai took a breath, hands wavering as he debated whether to continue chopping. Finally, he sighed and resumed his work. “I’m thinking of changing some things in the way he fights. If he’s grabbed again, I don’t want his life depending on his ability to keep his grip. I’ve been experimenting with mounting the swords to his arms, creating some kind of catch-system to allow him to conceal them when they’re not in use. The trouble is keeping his forearms functional outside of combat.”

Of course. Kaname felt his heart racing. That made sense. It didn’t matter what he thought of the swords, the priority there was not allowing Hyakkimaru to be eaten. “But that’s not the only thing, is it?”

He almost thought he’d imagined seeing Jukai’s hand slip.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve also been having him work on understanding when he needs to eat or rest. He has his routines here, but I’m worried that without those, he may push himself. And, of course, it would be better if he remained with other people, but if he can’t do that, he needs to know how to establish these routines on his own.”

Other people were the ones who’d put him in this condition to begin with, Kaname refrained from reminding him. It didn’t matter that the method wasn’t what he’d thought.

“Of course, considering the entire…everything around his situation, he needs to know how to find shelter, how to seek help. There might be a way for him to find priests, or at least someone who can read, but…”

“So he’s just going to walk up to someone and hope they can read and write.” That…didn’t come out quite how he’d intended. But there was no undoing that now. “And what’s going to happen when that person is a samurai and decides he shouldn’t have been near him without permission?”

“I…I’ve been working with him to discern what kinds of groups he should avoid. He seems to understand what weapons are, though I don’t know that he would go towards any skirmishes to begin with considering…”

All those times he’d wondered if his grip and floor-walking exercises had been too much…he’d been such a fool. “Isn’t that putting too much on him? Why does he need to know all that now, is he…?”

“If Hyakkimaru remains here, waiting for the next demon to attack him, it might take years before it’s over. But if he seeks them out, he might shorten that time considerably.”

I don’t intend for him to wait around to be attacked.

No…

“So you’re sending him off?!” Kaname felt his leg catch as he stumbled back.

Jukai sat down his knife and the vegetables and turned to him. “Kaname…”

“No. That’s not…He can’t just rely on finding someone who knows how to write! And this soon after…he’s not going to…he’s going to think you’re abandoning him!” That wasn’t fair to him. That wasn’t how things were supposed to work.

“Kaname, I’m not sending him off. Not…the way you may be thinking of it.”

And what other way was there?

“I’m not abandoning Hyakkimaru. Or you.” Why had he needed to…? He spoke as evenly as he could. Then he stopped, hands working as if he could somehow carve out what he wanted to say. “If there’s the slightest chance there could be anything for him after the demons, I want him to have that chance.”

Of course. Right. Of course. Of course they didn’t want him to spend the rest of his life being attacked, but…

“When?”

“When is he going?” Jukai said. “Not before autumn, at least. I may have him wait out the winter as well. At least until it’s nearing its end.”

There was more Kaname wanted to ask, but it was all very rapidly becoming too much to process, and he wasn’t even sure how much of it he was understanding.

“I…” He turned and exited the house.

That evening, Hyakkimaru had found him on his way back, running his hands over his face and staring up at him with an expression that almost passed for confused.

How much of this did he understand? That he was supposed to leave and go searching for demons, without even a guarantee of knowing where to look?

And why couldn’t he just stay there? It wasn’t like they wouldn’t come eventually. Besides, didn’t he have a better chance of being found if he remained in one place?

“What a selfish big brother you have,” he whispered, wrapping both arms around him. No, he knew why he couldn’t just wait around. He should get to have something beyond looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next attack. He shouldn’t have to stand around acting as bait until then.

Hyakkimaru simply nestled into his shoulder, letting him stand there until he led him back inside.

For the rest of that year, they continued in this manner. Jukai would work with Hyakkimaru on any of the skills he’d decided he would need for this journey, Hyakkimaru would kill a demon that got too close to the house or the forest, and Kaname would try to reason why he couldn’t just send him on his own.

“What if something happens and his prosthetics break?”

It wasn’t a real question. Hyakkimaru had broken so many in his childhood, and Jukai had adapted to it so many times, by this point they weren’t even sure what would break them.

“What happens if his spine is the first thing he gets back?”

Which, admittedly, he probably shouldn’t have asked while he was practicing a bandage change. It didn’t answer the question of whether or not he was even aware that he had a prosthetic spine. Even Jukai wasn’t sure of whether or not he knew what the stitches in his back were for.

So then why did it have to be by himself? Why weren’t they going with him? Wasn’t this something important, and hadn’t they been there almost from the beginning?

Yet Jukai seemed determined it was something Hyakkimaru had to do on his own.

“Is this even something he wants, or did you decide—”

He was cut off by a wooden hand gripping his own. Tightly.

“Hyakkimaru…” He must have had a grip on Jukai as well.

And what argument could they make against that? Of course he would notice the tension between them lately, would notice it didn’t go away like it used to. It was his last year with them, for what might be years itself. Was this what he wanted him to remember?

It didn’t change the way he felt. They didn’t need to send him off by himself. But he didn’t need to wait around to be attacked, either.

He felt himself being pulled in, nearly crushing Hyakkimaru between them. “I wish I could give you both an answer…”

The one question Kaname could never bring himself to ask, “Is there a reason we can’t go with him?” hung in the back of his mind constantly.

Or, more precisely, “Is there a reason you can’t go with him?” There was no reason Kaname couldn’t go. With how long he’d been under apprenticeship, it was almost to be expected. Even if his child-sized hands were still lacking. Even Jukai hadn’t been perfect at making children’s prosthetics in the entire time he’d known him, and it wasn’t like he’d been with a master then.

There was no reason Kaname couldn’t go with him. And yet…

No. That couldn’t be. There were a few reasons he could think of why Jukai might not be able to travel with them. If he was concerned about being recognized. He’d said he hadn’t cared for his life before, but then, he hadn’t had anyone dependent on him who wouldn’t stop needing him after a few days. If something happened in the village and one of his patients needed him. That could also be a reason.

No, there was one more. Just because he wasn’t digging full-blown graves for monsters anymore, it didn’t mean that everything had gone away.

Damn it.

In that final month, they performed one last surgery on Hyakkimaru, replacing his prosthetic arms with new ones, specifically crafted for combat.

If this day had come any sooner, Kaname wondered what he would have thought of the fact that Jukai still kept a pair of swords—or that one of them had been Hyakkimaru’s namesake. Yet he almost couldn’t feel anything as he watched Jukai cleaning and purifying the blade, sliding it into a groove in Hyakkimaru’s elbow, whispering something which Kaname was almost certain he wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Forgive me. May you use them better than I did.”

It didn’t register to him that he had frozen up until Jukai quietly took Hyakkimaru’s forearm from him, and slid it over the blade.

The following day, Jukai showed Hyakkimaru how to unsheathe and re-sheath the swords. From then on, he had him work at it until he had every possible way down pat. Unsheathing by hand, by wedging it into something, by pulling loose if something had grabbed his arm or wrist, by biting down on the wraps and pulling from there. Using one prosthetic to hold the other, carrying one or both in his teeth that way.

Which, of course, made them worry he might accidentally suffocate himself without a nose to help him breathe. But, one way or another, he had figured something out before Jukai could point it out to him. Either spitting it out, holding the wraps in his teeth (which seemed like it would be unpleasant if he’d felt pain) or somehow managing to leave a gap somewhere while biting the arm itself.

At this point, if he wasn't passing out with it in his mouth, Kaname wasn’t about to question it.

To reattach his prosthetic, Jukai had Hyakkimaru work at it until he was able to re-sheath it by hand, by mouth, by wedging it into something or holding his arm out for someone else—he was supposed to tap above his elbow to indicate he wanted it back, but he was having a hard time remembering that—or using his feet to hold it in place. It wouldn’t have surprised Kaname if there had been other ways he hadn’t noticed.

Additionally, Jukai had shown him how he could slide the blades in his arms to make them longer or shorter as needed.

As much as Kaname wanted to stay out of this, it wasn’t as though he wanted Hyakkimaru’s memories of this place to include an older brother who suddenly started avoiding him. “Did you put some wood in those somewhere?”

That almost had to be it. “No, though I had considered finding some way to attach it to the ends, so he wouldn’t pull them completely loose. But Hyakkimaru seems to have no problem sensing them.”

When he comes back, will he tell us how that works, do you think? “You’re certain we can’t go with him?”

He already knew what the answer would be. “If I go, I’ll only be in his way. And besides…” He suddenly stopped himself.

“Besides?”

Jukai focused his gaze on Hyakkimaru, who was occupied with seeing how far he had to slide the blade before his forearm would fully attach. “This is something Hyakkimaru needs to do for himself. When I consider that I might go with him, it feels as though I am intruding on something deeply personal. I try to convince myself it’s just an old man being sentimental, and yet…”

His eyes closed and he shook his head. Hyakkimaru paused, having gotten his arm reattached, and stared between the two of them, starting to reach, but stopping himself.

When was the last time he had faltered in reaching for one of them?

About a week before his time to go, Kaname found Hyakkimaru sitting outside the house, much earlier than he normally started guarding, sitting in a dirt patch and tracing shapes with a stick he’d found.

He might have come out for some privacy, Kaname thought. Yet he found himself moving to sit beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder so he’d know he was there. Hyakkimaru didn’t turn to him in that moment, entirely preoccupied with whatever he saw in his own mind.

“Jukai says this journey is something personal to you. Is that how you feel about it?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t receive an answer. “Or maybe you don’t know how you’re supposed to feel about it.”

Did the marks in the dirt have any meaning to him? If he squinted, some of them almost looked like sloppier versions of his writing. But then, maybe they were the shapes of things he sensed, or what he imagined they might look like.

He’d have to ask about that too, someday.

“I suppose I wouldn’t know in your place either. You’ve got a lot happening around you that other people only dream of.” If that. He didn’t remember many of his own dreams, but he was certain demon attacks had never been part of them before Hyakkimaru.

Had he imagined the pause in his tracing?

There was so much he wanted to be able to tell him, that maybe he shouldn’t tell him, at least not yet. But now there might not even be a yet, if something happened on his journey and he couldn’t return, if someone came looking for revenge against Jukai and decided to remove the both of them for good measure. He didn’t know how much of it would even translate to Hyakkimaru’s language, and yet…

“You know, for awhile, I didn’t think there was going to be any ‘after’ you. You were always going to need new prosthetics eventually, and there’s some you’ll never be able to do on your own no matter how good you become.” Because, no one, no matter what they learned, could change their own spine. “I guess I assumed that after Jukai…after he…that I would…”

What am I supposed to do? Why should that have been so hard a question?

Hyakkimaru’s stick fell to the ground and suddenly he was gripping Kaname’s shoulders, feeling along his face and then bringing his forehead to his, moving almost like he was still that tiny little brother trying to rock them. He’d grown quite a bit these past six years, hadn’t he?

“Do you even want to go? I know…” No. He knew what Jukai had said. He knew how Hyakkimaru reacted when Jukai was working with him or talking about it. “Sorry. I need to hear this from you.”

Taking one of Hyakkimaru’s hands and placing it over his own, he wrote in the dirt, Hyakkimaru, want, go? then paused to let him trace over the words.

And trace over them again. And again.

And then slowly, he put Kaname’s hand over his own, and began to write.

WANT NO DEMONS.

How was he supposed to answer that? Kaname pulled Hyakkimaru to him, placing a hand over his hair and holding on like he could somehow eliminate them just through that.

That final morning, Hyakkimaru woke up, ate his meal while pressed close to Jukai, and allowed him to dress him in his cloak and scarf, standing patiently as he fussed over his bandages and prosthetics. He didn’t need to check that many times. His work had long since surpassed the point that Hyakkimaru could break it, and it had been years since he’d sloughed off the bandages.

If you don’t want to say goodbye, you should go with him, Kaname wanted to say. Yet his body felt strangely numb as Jukai led Hyakkimaru outside. Of course he understood what was happening. It wasn’t the first time he’d explained it to him.

But it was somehow less real now than it had been every time before.

“Hyakkimaru, you know I can’t go with you.” I’d only be in your way, this is something personal to you alone, please forgive me for teaching you to kill. He could imagine what he might say.

He stepped forward, and for a moment, Kaname thought he might fuss with Hyakkimaru’s hair a seventh or eighth time. It wasn’t until he withdrew his hands and Hyakkimaru reached for something he had left that he realized he had placed a pouch around his neck, which he had never seen before. Kaname felt something sinking in the pit of his stomach.

“You had this with you when I found you. It may one day help you find your real parents.”

Before he could think to say anything, Hyakkimaru had dropped the pouch, reaching for Jukai’s face with both hands, tracing along his beard, cupping against his cheek, tracing again. Wanting to touch foreheads one last time, but being the slightest bit too short to reach him.

He heard the soft cry as Jukai reached back, resting a hand on the side of his mask, and then pulling him into one final, fierce, protective hug.

As he released him and let him go on his way, it almost seemed like he was walking slower than usual. This was where he was supposed to turn back and refuse to leave, wasn’t it? When he was supposed to pull them down to where he wrote in the dirt, writing their names, writing GO? Or clinging and trying to pull them along.

“I don’t think he wants his real parents.” For a moment, he hadn’t realized he was the one who had spoken. “I think as far as he’s concerned, that’s you.”

Jukai’s mouth worked and for a moment, he thought he would try to argue back. There weren’t any arguments he could return, not after the past sixteen years and certainly not after he’d pieced together that Hyakkimaru’s body had been traded in a deal. If he was abandoned, who did he think had done that to him?

“I know it’s something he needs to do for himself, but…” The image of a child, running frightened through the marketplace and trying to lie down on the ground came unbidden to his mind. He wasn’t that child anymore, and yet…

Jukai turned to him.

“I know you have your patients, and I know he can handle himself. You taught him well, but…” Kaname swallowed, thinking back to that conversation. “I don’t think…”

The need to explain himself, to make Jukai understand his reasoning and why Hyakkimaru wasn’t a child, and he knew that, but that didn’t mean he needed to strike out completely alone with no one who could communicate with him. It didn’t mean he needed to be cut off from them until he had his body back. And besides…

“You said there were people you didn’t know how to help before.” Jukai spoke so quietly he almost thought he’d imagined it. “Do you think you might find them if the two of you went together?”

Kaname’s eyes widened, and Jukai gave a sad smile. “I know you’ve been packing your own supplies. But I hadn’t wanted to change your mind, whatever you decided to do. Hyakkimaru will be able to protect you, and you would be able to look after him where I can’t.”

He’d known? He had expected that he would try to argue back, if that was the case. That he’d tell him the same thing he’d said of himself, that he couldn’t go without intruding on something immensely private to Hyakkimaru. “You…I…” There was so much more he should have said.

“If you go soon, you’ll be able to catch up to him quickly,” Jukai almost reached for him.

This time, Kaname closed the gap. He wasn’t as strong as Jukai or Hyakkimaru, but he could still manage a firm enough grip. “Thank you for understanding.”

As he set out with his supplies and his own cloak, a thought stopped him and he turned back to where Jukai watched him. “One more thing,” he swallowed. “Don’t go dying until I can bring Hyakkimaru back. He’s going to want to see you once he’s done with everything.”

Jukai’s eyes had filled with tears, and he had blinked them back, but he had only nodded as Kaname turned away.

Just as Jukai said, Kaname found Hyakkimaru only a little ways from the house, almost at the edge of the forest, walking along slower than he normally did. Matching his pace with him, he rested a hand on his shoulder to let him know he was there.

Hyakkimaru turned to him, then stopped, looking a little farther behind them.

They would be back. They would see him again. Even if it wasn’t something he could say out loud right then. Even if they didn’t know when just yet.

And then, with a tiny, inaudible sigh, Hyakkimaru turned and they walked on.

Chapter Text

This is an announcement at the request of one of my readers. I've begun posting the sequel to this. It's grouped in-series with this one, and although I expect it to be somewhat slow-going at first, I am excited to be back with this AU!

I'll probably keep this announcement up for around two weeks before I remove it. Thank you for your patience in waiting for the sequel!