Chapter Text
Flynn never ceased to be amazed by the view of the sky from the rooftop of Mikado castle. The past few nights had made him closely acquainted with the far-off twinkling lights overhead, ever since the mission in Kicchigiori Forest. While not suffering from nightmares, as he had feared would happen, his body had instead opted to make sleep an incredibly difficult thing to achieve.
And so, in order to avoid disturbing his fellow Samurai, Flynn finds himself with the stars and a full moon for company tonight. With very little cloud coverage, the rooftop of Mikado castle glows eerily in the moonlight and lends it an ethereal look and feeling. It calms Flynn, in a strange way. It is as if he has stumbled upon a secret place where only he exists; and it is with that thought that he feels his mind go quiet, and he unsheathes his katana.
If he had prepared ahead of time, perhaps he would have brought something else that takes advantage of the moonlight to pass the time. But there is a comforting feeling when swinging his katana in practiced strokes, the kind of familiarity one associates with old friends and warm places and comfort food. It’s something he’s known since a child, since he first met Issachar.
He decides, then and there, that this is the best thing to help him process the events that had recently passed.
He goes through the motions of their training exercises from muscle memory alone, adding repetitions until he feels the muscles in his arms and chest and back scream with protest. He doesn’t stop until twinges of pain set in; he knows he’s pushed himself too far, but this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He sheathes his katana and gracelessly slumps to the ground, casting a lone shadow in the middle of endless moonlight.
The pain in his body, from his legs to his lower back and up into his shoulders, is a sweet counterpoint to the blissful silence in his head. He is aware his breathing is ragged, almost gasping, and he can’t remember being this physically exhausted in ages. To pass the time until his breathing is more regulated, Flynn debates with himself over what hour of the night it must be based off of how much his shadow has shifted since coming onto the roof. Two hours, perhaps? Maybe three?
As his breathing slows and he becomes more attune to his surroundings, Flynn gradually becomes aware he is not alone. It doesn’t produce any feelings of insecurity or indignancy at the intruder; rather, he hardly finds it in himself to produce any sort of feeling at all. Flynn raises his head from its slumped position, and turns it in the direction of the door he himself had come through several hours before.
In the shadows, a figure watches him with some hesitancy. Then, it moves out into the light, and it’s Walter. His steps are slow, almost languid, and he’s wearing a mask of indifference, as if he is trying to ignore why Flynn is out here. Or perhaps understands too well, and that is what is showing on his face instead.
He stops just short of standing over Flynn, and then he crouches down beside him. He extends a water sack forward with one hand wordlessly, and Flynn takes large gulps from its contents. He hadn’t realized how parched he was until the liquid hit the back of his throat. He must have appeared greedy, because Walter releases a sigh that almost sounds fond, and he hears him sitting down properly beside him.
Flynn doesn’t know if Walter expects him to talk, but he says, “Thank you,” all the same, and passes the empty sack back to his fellow Samurai. Walter shrugs like it’s nothing.
“It makes it a little easier. And you needed it, anyway. We all need it, sometimes.”
Two question forms on the tip of Flynn’s tongue; one concerns pressing Walter for the meaning behind what he just said, and the other about why he came to the roof.
“You are not the only one who has been sleeping bad, you know. You didn’t turn in when I did, and when I woke up a little while ago your bed was still pristine. I figured you would go to the place that felt... that felt the most free of confinement,” Walter motioned with his hands around him and above him, “And here we are. I come up here too, when I have time.”
“To make ‘it’ a little easier?”
Walter’s face goes blank for a second, but a smile forces its way onto his lips and he bows forward a little, as if embarrassed by its presence on his face, “Yeah... I guess you could say that.” He looks up, his smile resting easy now, “'Tis quiet. Gives me time to process things.”
“I only started coming up here after...”
“I know. It’s all right, your secret’s safe with me.”
Flynn stills. It dawns on him this is the first time in a very long time he’s ever spoken with someone like this, the last person being Issachar. Despite his heart twisting a little at the memory - Flynn waking up from a nap against his best friend’s shoulder and them discussing their futures - he smiles. He can feel it spread slowly, and he ducks his face like Walter did a moment ago.
“Again, thank you. It is... a comfort, knowing someone understands.” It comes out almost like a whisper, and Walter is silent.
Flynn looks up and sees Walter looking at him strangely. It isn’t an unpleasant stare, but one more akin to wonder and fascination and Flynn can't understand why he is receiving it. Perhaps it has been a while since Walter had witnessed someone’s emotions openly as well; that thought makes Flynn’s smile a tad more rue, and it gradually falls from his face.
“Anyway,” Walter cuts through the silence that had begun piling up around them, “Let us go back to the barracks for now. Are you feeling well enough for sleep?”
“Indeed. My body and mind are, for once, in agreement on something.”
Walter chuckles, pulls himself up, and offers a hand to Flynn. Flynn takes it, and they head back into Mikado castle, their shadows two black specks floating across a sea of white.