Chapter Text
Gyokuto tried to hold her tongue. Truly and honestly, she did.
In a family of people with ambitions greater than one person could hold alone and stubbornness to match, it was necessary to have someone with perspective at least, so they knew when they were getting in over their heads. From the time she was a little girl, she knew that everyone in her family had one such person.
For her mother, it was her father. His decisions were based on seeing the bigger picture and nuance her mother’s passion tended to overlook. Though there were moments, he could be somewhat rigid in his thinking, calling upon her flexibility to lead him into action. Gyokuto believed even now, her father thought about what her mother would do while he trained, and her mother reflected on her father’s words when she felt alone.
For her uncle, it was her mother. Her uncle was a kind man, but he could be rather withdrawn at times. He treated the taijiya with care, never allowing his position to get the best of him. Special attention was paid to his subordinate's strengths and weaknesses. He knew everyone by name, was acquainted with them enough to be invited to the gatherings after missions and to be doted on by their families. Though his softheartedness tended to lead him to overcompensate.
Gyokuto remembered after he’d been injured in an exorcism, her mother grilled him for what felt like hours. Her hands were swift in tending to the wounds on his body, touch light as if her uncle would shatter under the slightest bit of pressure. She could remember how her mother's lips formed a fretful scowl when she announced that the wound on his nose would undoubtedly scar.
A constant reminder not only of his mistake but how close a yōkai had come to potentially lopping off his head.
Gyokuto didn’t think her mother was a petite woman, but next to her uncle, it was clear how their heights differed. Seeing his broad frame fold as he buried his face against her mother’s chest was as mesmerizing as it was sobering. His hoarse voice whispered, “Aneue…”, like a child seeking comfort.
Her mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him in a way Gyokuto knew firsthand. Her mother's hugs were always a little tight but they made her feel safe and warm. Whispered gratitude that he was alive buried in his hair, the heaviness of emotion shivering in her voice, and Gyokuto knew there had to be a story there, but she had seen and heard enough earth-shattering revelations for one night. Quietly, she toed to her room in hopes her mother wouldn’t know she’d been awake, slipping back into place between Kin’u’s splayed limbs and the cocoon of blankets that was Hisui.
That night, Gyokuto couldn’t stop staring at Hisui until exhaustion claimed her again. Her sweet little Hisui was far too serious for someone so young. As children, she and Kin’u joked that he’d been born with an old man’s soul in a child’s body. With their father’s thick brows and their mother’s scowl, Hisui could glare anyone and anything out of his way. Gyokuto was convinced he spent hours practicing it in the water’s reflection when they went to gather pails of it from the creek near their home. He seemed to spend more time away when their father left for his training, always coming back with a dripping face. She wondered if he’d been playing or if it were to just wipe away the tears.
She tried to hide her own when Kin'u was no longer a sprawled lump snoring away at her back, the space cold when Gyokuto reached out in the night. Hisui didn't say anything about the red rims around her eyes but as serious as he was, he was sensitive too. His hand clasping her own when she whimpered in the night, dreadful and wishing that their sister and father were home. He held her steady and well into the morning when he slipped away for training. Gyokuto pretended not to notice the kiss to the top of her head or how he'd whisper his leaving.
Her sadness and their mother’s was something Hisui picked up on quickly, and ever since then, he’d done all that was in his power to keep them from worrying. But Hisui had the best and worst of everyone who came before him and Gyokuto worried about him.
Just like their father, he could be so rigid. Pushing himself in his training until Gyokuto had to haul him home by the ear. He apologized by taking over the chores and allowing her to hold him a little tighter as they said their goodnight.
Just like their mother, his passion burned bright. Gyokuto had never seen Hiraikotsu used in the way Hisui did. Their mother proudly handing it to him when she was certain he could withstand the weight of its blows. It was as big as he was tall but Hisui accepted it with the biggest smile. Everyone expected so much from him. He looked up to their uncle and their mother entrusted her only son to his teaching.
And just like their uncle, Hisui overcompensated. How many times had her little brother shooed her away when she tried to help him with something? How many cold cloths did she press to his aching muscles while scolding him for acting tough? How many times did he brush her off with a murmured, "I can handle it, aneue...."
“Don’t baby him, Gyo.” Kin’u tousled her hair as they watched Hisui leave with their uncle. Gyokuto looked to her sister, wondering how she couldn’t be concerned as well. Yet, Kin’u had always radiated confidence greater than her body could contain. One that threatened to overwhelm everyone close to her. It was hard to feel anxious in her presence.
Smiling, Kin’u said, “Hisui won’t thank you for it. He’s ten now, and to him, that means he’s a man…” A roll of her eyes pulled a giggle from Gyokuto, hardly muffled by the back of her hand. Kin’u tossed her an affectionate smile then looked ahead, a flash of something crossing her face as she murmured, “Just be there to catch him when he falls.”
And fall, he did. One day, the little brother she thought had all the reason in the world committed to doing something so foolish. If it hadn’t been for her uncle and Setsuna, Gyokuto was certain Hisui would have died that day. No matter how he tried to tell her it wasn’t that serious or how her mother reassured her, he would’ve been fine. Hisui was her little brother.
When Kin’u heard of what transpired, she’d been unusually tight-lipped. Seldom did she and Hisui have contests, sniping at one another until they either grew too agitated or decided to drop the matter altogether. But that day, Kin’u held the solemness of their father when regarding Hisui and the nervousness in her little brother’s eyes almost made Gyokuto want to put herself between them. If only to shield him from this side of Kin’u not even Gyokuto was sure of.
“Excuses?” Kin’u prompted, her voice snapped like the crack of a cane.
Hisui jolted as if he’d been struck, sinking down with a shake of his head, muttering, “No…”
“Explanations?” Kin’u continued with the same tension in her voice. Gyokuto wanted to tell her not to be too harsh on him, but she couldn’t seem to make her voice come out, focusing on the bandages shifting with the rise and fall of his chest.
Hisui’s shoulders trembled, and Gyokuto’s heart ached for him. With his armor removed, his skinny chest and small frame were all she could see. He seemed so young. Then Gyokuto remembered what Kin’u told her.
He’s ten now.
Hisui was only ten, just as their mother had been when she fought yōkai alongside their grandfather. Ten years old. Her sweet little brother, who used to grip her hand with sticky fingers and smiled up at her with flushed cheeks plump and round like fruits, laid here dressed in strips of cloth spotted red with his blood. Gyokuto didn’t realize she was crying until she heard his voice, small and fragile.
“Aneue…?”
Hisui had their father’s eyes too. And just like when she parted from her father after a brief visit, they were dark and sad. He was still a child, one seeking comfort, offering an apology for a perceived wrong. A sob loosed from her, sounding utterly animalistic, but Gyokuto couldn’t bother to think twice about it. Kin’u’s stoicism shattered when Gyokuto seized her arm, tugging her close so they could huddle around Hisui. Moisture squeezed from her eyes, uncomfortably sticking to her eyelashes and dripping down into Hisui’s dark downy hair. Kin’u’s hand brushed against her upper arm in slow circles, attempting to soothe while Hisui made a noise of discomfort, then settled as Gyokuto eased her weight against his side.
When she felt his hand against her arm next to Kin’u’s, she sobbed inconsolably.
So often did she wish they would all just stay here - with her - protected from all that lay outside their door. When home together, laughter was everywhere, and she didn’t need to worry some tragedy would take them away.
That one day, she would have nothing left of her mother, uncle, and brother but a mask and a broken weapon. One day, Gyokuto would hear from a passerby about a monk who succumbed to his injuries atop a mountain. Alone and unknown. Or another felled by a yōkai stronger than she could handle.
Gyokuto wished, she hoped, and she prayed that day would never come.