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It had been years since he had last seen sunlight, but that wasn't the worst of his situation.
Gyousou sat quietly in the cave, lost in his own thoughts. He had memorized the interior by touch in the first several weeks of his imprisonment – the ceiling was barely high enough for him to stand up, and too dark to see. He had the room to take six paces each way, and that was all. The man-made cave had been sealed from outside, and he hadn't been able to find any weaknesses in his prison.
The sight deprivation had made it difficult to keep track of time, since there were no light shadings of day or night, nothing but a seemingly endless blackness. It would have been enough to drive a lesser man insane, but Gyousou wasn't entirely defeated yet.
It was his own fault for putting his faith in a man who wasn't worthy. He had realized Asen wasn't happy about the pace of his reforms, but he'd believed their camaraderie would overcome such minor disagreements. For one instant, he had trusted Asen at his back, and had been repaid by betrayal. A sharp rap over the head, and then he'd woken up to find himself trapped.
Somewhere, there was a place for air to enter, or else he would have suffocated to death numerous times – it was the only small mercy he'd been given. There was no source of water, and his throat had grown parched within a day. Food was also a distant memory. After suffering several weeks of nearly impossible hunger and thirst, all such cravings vanished as his body started to subsist on the power that made him Sen-nin, whatever that was.
Those first few weeks, Gyousou's formidable temper ruled him, as he raged – sometimes screaming, sometimes just ranting in his head – about what he would do to Asen when he was free, on how he would repay this betrayal without mercy. But after that initial rage had passed, after he had recognized his true situation, his anger gave way to worry.
The true worst part of his situation was knowing his incompetence would kill Kouri. Without him doing his best to rule Tai, the gods would punish the kokki with the shitsudou. Gyousou had failed his kingdom, he had failed himself, but most of all, he had failed the innocent young kirin who had overcome his terror enough to name Gyousou king.
Kouri had to be terrified, he couldn't help think. Kouri was a sweet child, inexperienced in the world of war and politics, and nearly helpless despite his immense potential power. He was burdened by the curse of his kirin's kindness, but still unable to tap into his kirin's power at will.
He couldn't keep the image of Kouri sickening out of his head, imagining what horrors the small body was enduring. A small part of him hoped Asen had enough mercy to slay Kouri outright, rather than force the child to face a lingering death.
But as time moved on, and he still lived, he knew that Kouri was alive. A king could not live without his kirin. Several years had passed since his imprisonment, perhaps as much as a decade. And as the time grew longer, and he suffered, he began to realize that he was still the king. Out there, Asen was likely usurping his throne, and Tai would suffer. But as long as Gyousou lived, there was still the chance he would be able to reclaim his rightful place, and set things aright.
He knew he was fixated on that idea, but that was better than letting madness take a grip on his mind, or reveling in thoughts of vengeance. Life couldn't be easy for Kouri, even with the protection of his formidable shirei, but having a bloodthirsty master would only make things worse. He would certainly punish Asen, but he would not cross a line that Kouri would be unable to forgive.
So instead, he let his mind drift on his plans for repairing Tai. He would imagine Tai as it should be, fixing the damage which had been done to it by poor rule and this rebellion. Tai would flourish, become a land strong enough to support its citizens, but also a place where people wanted to live. Gyousou knew many of the wisest minds and the most skilled immigrated to wealthier nations. With established kingdoms like En and Ryu on its borders, there was always the temptation to try to find an easier life. It was a self-perpetuating cycle, strengthening those wealthy nations at poor Tai's expense.
He didn't want them to go. He cared for his people, and he hoped he could build a country that they would be proud to call their home. Tai was full of stubborn people, and he thought that as king, he should be the most stubborn of them all.
In his dreams, Kouri was still a heina, frozen as a child. It wasn't impossible, since Enki was similarly shaped, but in his heart, he knew Kouri was growing into an adult, and Gyousou wasn't there for him. That was another of his regrets, because his kirin was so terribly shy and unsure that support would be essential in making Kouri everything he could be. He knew Kouri hadn't come into his full power, because he did not doubt that the kokki would come for him immediately.
He reached out and touched the solid stone of the cave, feeling its hardness against his fingers to remind himself that all wasn't lost. His fate was not in his own hands, but as long as Kouri lived, there was still hope for Tai, and for himself.