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While Towa’s decision to bring the taijiya had given them an advantage in numbers, Setsuna considered their methods to be unorthodox, and a bit wasteful, especially for someone as practical as Kohaku. Nevertheless, the ends justified the means. It wouldn’t be Setsuna who had to explain to the taijiya chief why a significant number of their oil pots would need to replenish. Although, a lack of casualties among their ranks was more than Setsuna could have hoped.
It was one less matter for her to be concerned. However, the haunting image of what she’d seen and the fisherman’s voice resonating through her naginata left more questions than she was comfortable with.
Resurfacing from her thoughts, Setsuna set the waiting taijiya left under her command to gathering the paralyzed humans near the shallows. Villagers drawn from their homes by the commotion flocked to the grotesque statues of their loved ones, weeping and cursing as they helped to lay them against the sand.
In the wake of such despair, she felt useless. If this power allowed her to commune with the dead, perhaps closure could’ve been brought by passing on their loved one’s last words. Yet, try as she might to see the tattered red threads, not even a single string appeared.
“Their souls aren’t here,” Setsuna glanced toward her right at the sudden intrusion. Somewhat surprised to see Moroha approaching from the shoreline. Thin vapors arose from her robes like steam while her hair dripped water, the ribbon she wore sodden and flattened against her head. Waves of heat rolled off her, leaving Setsuna feeling a slight flush by proximity though she welcomed it with the dampness from her soaked uniform clinging like a second skin.
Moroha set her hands on her hips, the tip of a fang worrying her lower lip as she looked upon the mourners. “If you ask me, she was an onryō by the end of it, a pretty powerful one too….”
“Did she devour them?” Setsuna asked, brow furrowing as Moroha shook her head with a pensive mm. Dismissing it with a sigh, Setsuna said, “Those sacks we carried for her….”
Moroha tucked her arms behind her head. “I’m guessing if we looked in them again, we’d find the answer…” she spoke with such casual airs like they were talking about the change in the weather. Setsuna wondered how much death she’d seen to be so nonchalant. A quick glance out the corner of her eye captured the tension in Moroha’s shoulders and the flex in her jaw. The question was dismised immediately.
“Good thing she didn’t take your head off too. Myoga-jiji said that Tenseiga can only revive someone once.”
Setsuna huffed, closing her eyes. “I have no intention of dying a second time.”
“... A second time…?”
Setsuna’s eyes snapped open. No. How hadn’t she noticed? So caught up in her conversation with Moroha, why didn’t she feel his approach. Those three words, innocently spoken and light in their vocalization though they hung in the air like a sword dangling over Setsuna’s head. What she said next was pivotal, but her senses seemed to slow down painfully, or perhaps the world was giving her time to catch up. Faintly registering Moroha’s stiff posture and the muttered curse under her breath, Setsuna turned to look over her shoulder.
Hisui stood there rigidly, one hand cupped around his mask while the other hung limply by his side. Grey eyes scrunched at their corners in confusion, darting between them before they ultimately landed on Setsuna. A desire for an answer lingered, and inwardly, she cursed.
Upon her revival, Setsuna swore three things: the next time she crossed paths with Kirinmaru — it would be her victory, never again would she leave Moroha and Towa to fight alone, and as long as she drew breath, Hisui would never know of her death. Ironic that it was her shortsightedness that led them to this. Moroha glanced between them then ducked her head, scratching her cheek with the tip of a claw.
“I’m gonna go check where Towa went off to,” she announced, not waiting for a reply before she started up the beach. Neither Setsuna nor Hisui looked to her, even to utter a response offhandedly. An answer wasn’t necessary. It was the clumsiest diversion the silver-tongued huntress ever made. Though Setsuna couldn’t blame her for leaving as quickly as she did. In this situation, if Setsuna were someone other than herself, she might have done the same to escape Hisui’s crestfallen gaze.
For a time, all that filled the silence between them were the shouts and calls across the beach joined by waves crashing against the shore. Hisui never looked away from her as Setsuna turned around to face him fully, twisting her fingers around her naginata for a tighter hold. Briefly, his attention snapped to the weapon, and Setsuna noticed the tightness in his shoulders, pulling them back while he stood straighter.
His jaw clenched, gaze level with her own though heavy with emotion. It was as if he were a bowstring drawn taut until he strained against the sun and moon ring. Setsuna was sure of it; one false move and Hisui would…..
“Not long ago,” Hisui’s voice cut through her thoughts with the ease of a gentle breeze brushing over her skin. His words were deceptively light despite the quiet unrest brewing in the flecks of aura escaping him in wisps. Odd, it was his eldest sister who taught Setsuna to see things such as this. It wasn’t like Hisui to be so uncomposed that he couldn’t keep his energy in check.
“I felt something strange. Like something cut through me….” Setsuna listened to his shaky inhale, watching with bated breath as his limp hand curled at the center of his chest. “I didn’t have a wound, not even a scar. I wasn’t even training, but it felt real.”
Real. Setsuna wanted to push his hand aside and see for herself but for obvious reasons, that couldn’t happen. There were too many eyes, and Hisui’s body wasn’t a spectacle for anyone else to see. More importantly, the more he spoke, the more unnerved he seemed. Downcast eyes search for something and Setsuna swallowed the building lump in her thoat. She’d done the same over and over again since she awoke to the sound of someone calling her name in the darkness. The cauterwhal of yōkai heaving their final breaths cut short by her blade, just as she’d been.
Struck down in an instant.
Hisui’s voice became softer and airier like he was trying to grasp onto the words themselves, “Then, Towa came asking for help, and I wondered why weren’t you with her….” His dark eyes snapped up to her, beckoning for a reprieve Setsuna didn’t dare give even to soothe his mind. She couldn’t return to the taijiya. Not so soon, not without answers to the questions mounting around her. But Hisui knew none of that, all he knew was the fear of a secondhand brush with death.
“What… did Moroha mean by that?” His voice cracked like he was the young boy Kohaku introduced to her when she’d joined their ranks. Back then, Setsuna was certain nothing could shake Hisui’s confidence. Placed faith that he could stand on his own. Now, he seemed close to crumbling and she wasn’t sure how to save him, “Setsuna...”
If only she could cut those words from his mind, then they could have continued in some semblance of peace. Desperation crept into Hisui’s voice as he took a step forward, “You couldn’t have….” In the setting sun, shadows accented the contours of his face. Red tinged his skin but it wasn’t from embarrassment or frustration, nor was it charming. Hisui seemed pale, frightened, but he wouldn’t have told her all of this if it was for himself.
That could only mean… he was scared for her.
Taken aback by the revelation, a harsh enough parted Setsuna’s lips before she could stop herself. Hisui’s face screwed up with discomfort, hurt cracking the glassiness clinging to his eyes. A voice in the back of Setsuna’s mind demanded that she fix this. He wasn’t meant to look like that but there was nothing she could say to comfort him. Promises she wouldn’t die, that she would return with them and away from the danger looming over her. They would be half-hearted at best, shattering what confidence he had in her.
What little she hadn’t whittled away like this.
“I am here,” Setsuna said plainly, but the words were laced with an unspoken promise, reassurance she hoped would set Hisui’s mind at ease. When he said nothing, she spoke again, “Right here.”
Hours could have passed but she hardly would have noticed it. Every thought narrowed down to the minute changes in his expression. Hurt melded into confusion, then realization which cooled more and more as the discomfort bending his brow and squeezing his eyes shut twisted his mouth into a grimace. She wanted to tell Hisui to look at her. To tell her that he understood, that he trusted in her words. In her capability to survive.
A sudden voice Setsuna only later recognized as Nanasuke’s burrowed between the terse silence. “Hisui! We could use your help over here….!”
Then the spell was broken, and Hisui opened his eyes. Dull and cold, his pupils indistinguishable from the deep grey of his irises. “Yeah…” He stepped back then turned on his heel, hurrying across the sands to rejoin Nanasuke and the others.
Setsuna sighed, letting the sunlight warm her back despite the cold creeping into her veins. She soaked it all in, closing her eyes. The guilt, the pain, the uncertainty and the doubt. A bell’s gentle chime startling her though she didn’t dare open her eyes when she saw a fluttering red thread dancing before her, stretching further and further ahead. When she opened her eyes, it was gone—
Leaving Setsuna to watch Hisui’s back as he left her behind.