Archive of Our Own

As soon as you read the letter from Her Excellency, delivered by one of the kind village recruits where you and Gorou were residing for the time being, you knew he was going to kick up a fuss about it. You even left it on the bed on purpose so he could read it and get his grievances out.

"But what if you get seriously hurt? What if you never come back, or nobody is there to help you-" 

"Gorou," You interrupt him before he could spiral further. "It's war, love. People get hurt." You reached to stroke his hair softly, from the scalp to the back of the neck just the way he likes, though his pout was still hard-set. "I know how much you wish I was an exception, but I need to do my part too. I need to lead the group."

You were both sitting on the edge of the bed; Gorou's grip on the edges of the paper crinkled it slightly, so he had set it aside to grab handfuls of his pants instead. You were right next to him, doing your best to console while leading him to the acceptance of what's inevitable.

"I know, but– nobody's been that far into enemy territory, not since our last few fallbacks — not to mention the group is so small and inexperienced that it'd be way too easy to pick off! There's-" 

He grabbed the paper again, desperation rising as he rescanned the letter. 

"There's just too many vulnerabilities! I don't doubt Her Excellency will have plenty of backup instructions in case anything happens, but even this feels too soon, too far from our frontline. And there's the chance the recruits might not remember, or- or freeze up, or-" he cut off, face scrunching into a pout so intense that it was clear he was holding back some of his deeper frustrations. Even his jaw was hard clenched.

You sighed, leaning over so both your shoulders touched. Your hand had dropped down to intertwine with his, giving it a little squeeze. 

"You care about this. About me and the others, and I love you with all its worth." You let the side of your head rest on his shoulder, most of his harder armor discarded since it was getting late in the day. "I'm sure there's something Her Excellency is seeing in doing this. I have faith in her." Your thumb ran over the hand you held, back and forth across his skin. It may have only relaxed him a bit, but it was still a win. 

He squeezed your hand once he felt like he regained enough composure to speak again.

"I'm just... afraid of losing you." He whispered, like saying it any louder might make his fear come true. "We've lost so many soldiers, so many good people..."

"I know," you shifted, both his and your sides practically glued together now. You can see his tail curled into himself from the corner of your eye; though even with it being a huge hinter for your lover's emotions, it didn't take a genius to know he was upset. "I know."

You both sat like that for a few moments, feeling like Gorou was sifting through his thoughts and trying to piece it all together. You were correct in your assumptions when he spoke up again.

"Can you promise me something?"

You turned your head up to meet his eyes, shining blue and shaking.

"I can try."

"Promise me you won't push yourself too hard out there; that you'll keep your safety in account instead of tossing it out like I know you tend to do." He wanted to be more stern on the last part, but just couldn't muster it. He was just worried about your bad habits in the heat of battle. Gorou already knows he has his own flaws he's been working on, hoping that he can help you overcome yours as well.

"I'll do my best."

You leaned up and laid a gentle peck on his cheek, then another brisk one on his lips. You never miss the way his face heats up so cutely from it, and you can't help but smile.

"I promise."

It wasn't long before the day came that you had to leave. Gorou was still clearly upset about it, but seemed to have steeled his resolve to give you a proper general's sendoff with your small crew.

You could see the reluctance in his eyes as he spoke shortly, and wished you all well.

You could tell how he was struggling to act composed about it all. You knew how much he worried for his soldiers, and having you there certainly didn't make it any easier.

But that's passed now. You were close to your mission's area.

Your group's goal was — is, to sneak by the front line and attack from the back, effectively making the enemy have to fight on two fronts pushing in in them. The group had to be under ten people in one area at a time to remain as undetected as possible; thirty was already pushing it, having such a large group skulking around with watatsumi armor. Even splitting up into several groups, it would be extremely dangerous sneaking around.

Hell, simply one person in Watatsumi armor was risky this far deep into enemy territory, but your soldiers all had fiery resolves and burning willpower. Even without any vision-bearers on the team, you believe your group has what it takes to see this through and turn the tide of battle.

You made it most of the way through Kannazuka, having strayed as far north as you could go without also having to fight too many Hilichurls or Nobushi. Your group was trying to save energy for fighting the Shogunate, not the average bunch of menaces littered around.

The Kujou Encampment watchtowers covered the majority of enter points, but with the cover of both camouflage and the darkness of night, you and your platoon managed to sneak to the south side of the island.

Grouping up and pressing close to the walls or the short cliffs, you quickly spun a plan.

The watchtowers needed to be taken down first, and it was absolutely crucial that each takedown for it would be undetected. You had seven archers on the team, all of which were thankfully the most experienced of the current Watatsumi army. In fact, almost everyone in your deployed group were the more trained soldiers, Her Excellency more than likely knowing that this particular mission could not afford the kind of slip-ups that the less experienced recruits could — and would — make.

You shared your plan with the archers, delegating them out with one partner each to assist in case if anything happens. That leaves sixteen people still awaiting orders.

Splitting the group into two, you would have the first and second squadron of eight take the lead to infiltrate the smaller buildings after the archers and their partners pick off the rest of the outside patrol, assisting the arching squadron when or if needed first.

That would leave the main building for last.

If all goes well, then the arching squadron would continue to protect and keep watch while you and the sixteen regroup to attack. There's likely to be at least five enemy soldiers inside, maybe even ten or more if they really wanted to pack everyone in there. It seems like a bit of an ethical violation, though, and a part of you hopes the Shogunate aren't that bad.

Regardless, it's up to your group's ability to commit to good teamwork for this plan to be successful. You had spent the prior week going over several hand signals with them all, so that they could utilize them both in battle and sneaking around.

Going through the plan, it all went mostly well... Except when it didn't.

It wasn't entirely a surprise to you that the Shogunate were vigilant, but come on. It was almost like they could literally smell you all coming. 

Even after successfully taking down the watch towers, it went south by the time everyone broke off to neutralize each smaller building. It was about halfway done when your group was surprised by more soldiers busting through the doors. Being attacked on two sides instantly made matters worse, and you threw out the 'retreat' sign as subtly as you could. Not like it mattered if the enemy saw you waving around, since they're actively trying to arrest all of you and are likely to attack in a matter of seconds.

"Put down your weapons! You're under arrest for attempted ambush and infiltration of the Kujou Encampment!" One of them, a fresh faced young man, shouted. The spear he brandished was shaking.

"Can't do that, sorry kid." You sighed, looking him dead in the eyes. Poor kid. He probably doesn't even want to be here. You hope he isn't going to be forced to kill anyone in the future, or watch someone die. You hope he has a family to go back to, but maybe that would be too cruel. After all, he's the enemy right now. And he's in the way.

"I-I said, lay down your weapons! You're being taken into custody!" He tried again, jabbing his spear at the air in front of you. His shoulders were so tense. You could see his knuckles going white with how tightly he's gripping his spear.

"Alright, that's enough. You have until the count of three." A more older, larger Shogunate spoke up. "One, two-"

He never even finished counting.

One of your men collapsed to the ground with a cry, clutching at his dominant shoulder. Blood was already leaking. The older Shogunate weilded his stained spear at another of your men. Everyone was speechless.

You only felt a moment pass before you struck with your own weapon.

Things became so much faster so quickly.

About five of eight made it out of the building, though you were still evading and clashing your way out with the two others. One of the escapees managed to carry the wounded out of the door as you and the ones remaining distracted them. 

Eventually you all made it out, and were already booking it to the beach to find an island to hide and replan on. You just barely caught sight of the second group of eight fighting their way out, too, though it looks like they were having an easier time with less enemies to fend off.

So maybe your group was the unfortunate one.

It didn't matter.

It shouldn't, anyway. You were glad they're in less danger.

Parrying your weapon against the sword of the Kujou Samurai you feared would be here, you barely manage to knock him back enough to retreat further west down the shore. They seemed intent to chase after you all, so you'll drag them as far away from the encampment as you can. 

There's a bit more familiarity with the scenery farther west, but you really don't want to lose more ground than you've gained in the war than you all already have. It's already a different battle trying to secure Tatarasuna, too, but right now you just need to either shake off or incapacitate your pursuers.

Unfortunately for you it seems the samurai has taken an interest in you only, letting his subordinates chase after yours as he sets his path directly towards you. His piercing gaze under the helmet could make anyone freeze in fear, but not you.

Gripping your weapon, you braced for the ensuing battle. It would be up to your endurance and quick thinking to come out on top, and this guy looks pretty well trained.

Overall, not a great situation. But you'll have to deal with it.

The letter Gorou was shown still didn't sit right with him, even after you left. What if it was a mistake? What if it was forged? He knows there's been an increase in Fatui presence around Watatsumi; he catches glimpses of them on beaches and around the farther islands, near small boats and occasionally speaking with local Nobushi. He's not really sure what they're up to exactly, but he can sense it's nothing good. He keeps sending parties to clear the more troubling ones out when he can spare the resources, but they keep popping up.

Gorou finds himself pacing across a hill he was looking over, ears pushed back and a deep frown set on his face. Trying to think of a solution to his worries.

Maybe he should speak to Miss Kokomi about it. That would clear things up, no problem.

But she's probably much too busy for something possibly so trivial. What if it really was just her who wrote the letter? It definitely looked similar to her handwriting, at least. Maybe he'd just be troubling her with something and wasting precious time.

Gorou's pacing increased somewhat, the grass underneath long trampled and tore up where he stepped. His arms switched every now and then from crossed over his chest to scratching at his head or holding his chin, unable for any part of him to really be still. The scratching brought him little comfort, but it was just a habit he had since he was young — raking his nails soothingly over his scalp and behind the ears to relax him a little when he had too many thoughts in his head.

Sighing deeply, he gave up and sat cross-legged on the flattened grass. He shouldn't bother Her Excellency with the letter. After all, it wasn't exactly like the send-off was a secret. It was pretty well in plain sight, and even a small crowd of Watatsumi villagers had watched to wish them all safe travels. And besides, the letter itself felt pretty on brand with how she usually writes and gives advice. He's just working himself up is all.

Still, he can't help but feel a small emptiness in his chest, a tiny pearl forming from the anxiety and doubt to rest heavy inside his heart.

You'll be alright, he reassures himself. You're strong, and you have a solid head on your shoulders. He didn't fall in love with you for no reason, after all. You're someone he admires, for your abundance of confidence and kindness, for your quick thinking. You'll be fine.

Gorou stands up to head to his morning training. Five laps from the east-most cliff above Borou Village to Mouun Shrine, wooden targets strung up along to way to fire at as he jogs.

The sun would soon reach over the torii gates as he sat on the stone steps of the broken down shrine, worn out and exhausted.

And yet his thoughts still could not leave you.

Metal clashing against metal, you were more or less at a stalemate with the samurai. This guy was good, ruthless too, but you had been actively learning and predicting his moves to stay one step ahead. You had dodged to the side when he swung down, putting your body into reeling your weapon into his side.

That moment of connection was almost euphoric if it weren't for the fact it seemed to do almost nothing to him. In fact, he stepped back and was already preparing to strike again — what the hell are they feeding this guy?!

You scrambled to your feet just in time as the blade whizzed past your face. You think it might've even given you a haircut, funnily enough.... Scarily enough, actually.

You can't give up, though. You have a mission and you're going to protect your group, even if it means having to fend this hulk of a guy off while they escape.

More clashing of metal; he caught you before your hit could land again.

You honestly want to scream in frustration, but instead you back off far enough to quickly observe your surroundings.

Looks like most of them are gone, but you note a few of yours who are stubbornly still fighting. It's hard to say exactly how many, because you're already having to dodge another blow that nearly severs your head from your shoulders.

Focusing back to the samurai with widened eyes, it's much to your disgust to see a horrible grin spreading on his face. Even a chuckle too – yeesh, this guy must either be really into battle or he just skimmed the honor section of the samurai code. You dodge another swing, rolling back and getting on your feet. Surely there's something in samurai code that's to do with not swinging at a distracted opponent? Dirty tricks or whatever —

You have to dodge again, unable to lift your weapon in time to parry.

Backing off, you stoop low to snatch a bunch of sand and threw it at his face, taking the moment to run off and yell at the others to retreat.

"Retreat! Go back!" You shouted, sidestepping one of the enemies thrusting a polearm your way. "Now!"

They all heard, thankfully, but now some of the enemy soldiers were trying to block off the west.

What a hassle.

These guys were so much easier compared to the samurai — who you still tried to stay out of reach from — knocking them down or knocking them out. You really weren't wanting to actually kill any of them, not if you could help it. Not even that stupid hunk of a samurai, despite your urges to remove his own head with how difficult he's been to deal with.

Your soldiers seemed to get the idea and followed your strategy, but they weren't nearly as experienced. You figure you must have groaned in exasperation when a few of the escapees came back to help. So much for the plan, but you suppose there's something relieving in knowing your soldiers are loyal and brave. Or maybe brash.

It was difficult to tell who was winning, regardless.

You really hope your group was, but that samurai was proving to be a real thorn in your side. He was targeting you again, so you decided to face him head-on once more.

"You can't outrun me that easily," he says, and draws his blade once more. You huff through your nose, and level a glare at him.

"Get over it already."

He snorts, and swings once more.

He's almost down, you can tell with how tired he's getting.

Your ears will probably be ringing for weeks with the incessant metal clashing everywhere.

"You done yet?" Your weapon strikes his shin, sending him to the ground. You try to ignore the adrenaline spiking at his every move, or the fact you're definitely going to pass out as soon as your group is safe.

"You win.. this battle..." He spits out, head down. "You fought valiantly... It is with honor that you finish the job."

You merely grimace before knocking his helmet off of him.

Sighing, you raise your weapon. Staring down at him.

You strike down, flicking the blade to the blunt side just before connecting with his head; putting in enough force to concuss, or hopefully knock out.

His body collapses to the ground. Huh. You half expected that not to work.

You stare at him for a moment, almost pitiful. Or maybe it was something more akin to contempt.

You finally turned your back on him, heading to aid the group so they could retreat a second time, though maybe if they could manage to take everyone out you could have technically completed your mission. You would still have to tie them up and secure the encampment, but it seems like the tide could be turning back in your group's favor.

You could envision Gorou's face when you arrive back, proud of you as both a general and a lover. You can't wait to get back to him so you two could embrace the soreness and pain away.

You hope you can do Her Excellency proud, jogging with fired up ambition and aiding one of your soldiers that was especially struggling.

It was easy to get a bit cloudy in battle for you, especially when you start to do well. But who could blame you if you're still doing the job just as efficiently?

You were just about to aid another when something forcibly stopped you in your tracks, physically locking you in place — eyes widening at a dark blur that came into view below you.

That something soon removed itself, jolting you backwards a little bit.

Your whole world stumbled and turned on its heel.

You think maybe you fell, considering the rough grains digging into your face, but you could've swore you were standing not a moment ago.

Your abdomen burns a little, after a monent. It's like a small blaze of heat that consumes you from the inside, and leaves most of your body around it tingly and strange. You think you still hear fighting around you, but your focus was locked onto the heavy drops of red starting to pool and stain the sand. You've seen the color many times before.

That was yours, then?

Huh.

You managed to lift yourself off the ground, slowly. Your hand clutches the front of the wound, but you could feel something like warm water trickling down your back as well. You realize now how hard your heart was pounding in your chest and ears, drowning out the clashing of metal and screaming, drowning out even the slosh of the waves hitting the beach.

You might have made it a few more steps if something hadn't have shoved you back down — or, no, maybe you tripped? It was hard to tell until you heard someone's muffled words. He sounded angry. Mean. He probably insulted you.

It didn't help that you just got another face full of sand; it got up in your nose and mouth, a slight sting in your eyes.

Yet once again you try to get up, coughing and shaking violently as your hand grasped for your weapon. It wasn't there.

Grimacing, you sat up and took a look around yourself as you clutched your wound again. Sweat beaded and blurred your vision more than the sand, but you squinted nonetheless. Fuck, your stomach was really starting to hurt.

There was that dishonorable samurai walking away from you, blood dripping from his katana as he rejoined the more heated area of battle. You watched him discard your weapon too far away to reach, favoring his soaked sword once more. You could see several of both yours and the enemy soldiers on the ground; some of them were struggling to get back up, thankfully ignored by most of the ones still standing, but it's not likely their grace period will last long since the samurai was approaching them. Something in you burned with a panicked rage that you wanted to let out. 

You need to help them. You need to help them. 

Never until that moment were you so unshakeably sure about something.

They were going to die if you don't get back up again.

You felt rather cold at the moment, breathing quickly as you stumbled to your feet. You don't remember having to breathe so fast just to get a bit of air. 

You see someone from your side glancing your way, panic striking her eyes.

"Captain!"

She must have flung her own polearm so hard it knocked the Shogunate soldier away, having to focus on her own battle again.

It was hard to think of anything else besides the constant "I need to help my group," the words repeating over and over as you moved, despite the fact you could hardly feel anything but fire and iron replacing your bones. You must have lost consciousness not long after, everything whitening in a bright flash before going dark.

The mind awoke before the eyes could even think of lifting, though those felt much too heavy to bother.

You could sense yourself in motion without you particularly moving your own body, curled up loosely into something that must have been bouncing the both of you rather frantically. The pounding in your head and the searing pain in your stomach banished any deeper thought, though, turning rather in favor of focusing on how absolutely clammy and boneless you feel; heavy stone seemed to have laced itself into every fiber of your being. Maybe you've turned into a boulder. That would be interesting.

It was getting progressively more difficult to hold coherent thought, pressure in your skull and behind your eyes blooming like some sort of flower that thrives off of pain and misery.

You hope it at least looks beautiful.

You begin to see yourself standing in a field of them, distant and vaguely blurry but leaning down to get a closer look. That must have been why you were moving. 

The flowers smell of nothing at all — but they also smell like sea salt and sweat, warmth and damp clothing. You think you can taste iron in the air, too. It's so suffocatingly rich that you're surprised you only noticed it now.

You had stood back up, swaying heavily, walking along a path that did not exist.

The sky was starting to emerge, blues and golden rays with the pinks and purples beginning to leak through. The sun was setting, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away as it got redder by the second.

You watched as it dipped behind the tall flowers. Red dots smattered across a field of green stalks and white petals. The sand underneath it all stirred restlessly, and you have the horrible feeling that there's something moving around under the surface.

The flowers were quickly morphing into dendrobiums, the stalks shooting up into the sky and petals leering in on you. Making you one of them.

Bushido Isamu was running like her life depended on it.

Or, perhaps, like her captain's life did. You were in grave danger, after all.

Her lungs burned and legs ached like nothing she's ever endured before, but there's a determination so deeply rooted in her soul that she never thought once to stop until she found something to help you. If nothing, she would at least pass out trying.

She had clutched you as solidly to herself as possible, attempting to use your limp arms to put pressure on the front of your wound while her own arms were busy being hooked under your legs and clutching your upper back.

It was almost a miracle that she managed to get the both of you out of the fight on the beach. Though... She knows not of the situation with the others anymore.

Your last orders were to retreat.

And yet, many of them stayed to fight alongside you.

Even she lingered to offer assistance.

She saw the samurai stab right through her highly respected captain. It's something that will be seared into her mind forever. 

But the question she can't figure out is: what happened? You had it handled, so why did you turn your back to the enemy?

...

There's a small cabin tucked away in the distance, north of the Tataragami on a little peninsula. The light's on. 

It'll have to do.

She swerved off to the right, mouth drier than a desert and limbs aflame, only stopping when she reached the door. She knocked profusely.

"Hold on, hold on! Calm down!" An annoyed voice echoed out, and it took everything in her not to collapse from exertion. The door opened, and the person was rubbing his face with a cloth. "It's so late out, what do you wa-"

"Bushido Isamu, Watatsumi recruit under Jellyfish IV, my captain is in grave danger, please save him!" She blurted out, hardly sparing a breath or pause between each word. She could feel her knees buckling.

It was understandable that the man in front of her was taken aback. She understood. But she did not care for waiting in these situations.

Thankfully, he seemed to get the memo; he had backed up and mentioned something about "getting the kit" before disappearing around a corner. He had left the door wide open.

Isamu was not one to barge in someone else's home, but she hoped this would be an exusable circumstance just this once. She stepped in and promptly collapsed, but repurposed whatever was left of her energy to keep pressure on the wound.

It was hardly a few seconds before the man came back out, startling at the two now inside of his home. He shook himself out of it and knelt on the opposite side of her.

"I need to remove the clothing where any injuries are. Can you help?"

She only nodded; the severe shaking of her hands, a shred of wanting you to keep your dignity, and her own struggle to stay functioning were the only things hindering her from de-robing the top half of your uniform as effectively. Still, it was done. Though, the blurry red glow of some circle was something unexpected... The man had already set it out of sight next to your hip after a moment, however, so maybe it wasn't important.

"Samurai. Stab wound," she huffed out, still catching her breath. "It's on his backside, going to the stomach here. I'm sorry for the mess."

"It's fine. How long ago?" He was already getting to work cleaning the front wound, a deep concentrated frown present.

"Less than an hour. Fifty minutes tops, I think. He was in the sand for a bit." She takes a moment to worry if you might have an infection. She knows almost nothing about the severity of abdominal wounds.

"Not horrible. But he'll need a real doctor as soon as possible for any internal bleeding, I can only disinfect the outside and close up the two holes for now." He was dampening a cloth with something before pressing it to the front as he spoke. "Are you going to be okay?"

This startled her. Right, she was so focused on her captain that she had been able to ignore her trembling and sore everything.

"I'll be fine. Do you need more help?"

He shook his head.

"No. You should rest for a moment. When your energy is back, we'll need to go find a doctor. Do you know anyone close enough?"

"There's a field hospital to the west of Nazuchi beach. I can bring him there."

"I'll come with you. I can carry him the rest of the way, you just lead us to it. Sound good?"

Isamu nodded, covering her mouth to keep herself from coughing or nearly dry heaving from everything catching up to her. 

"My name's Takashi, by the way. I'll get you some water in a minute." He had finished dressing the front wound, turning your unconscious body carefully to reach the back side. It was uncomfortable to maneuver, but he managed and repeated the process. He would also disinfect some of the smaller cuts you seemed to have maintained around your shoulders and one on your face. They all looked shallow enough to not even scar, but it would be good to get rid of the dried sand and blood anyway before you transfer.

Isamu thanked him and used the wooden walls as a guide to lift herself back up, slowly making her way to an open living room close to the front door. Taking a glance out the window for enemies... Nothing. There was a Shogunate watch tower, but curiously the one manning it had not moved despite clearly having seen her rushing over here. It was well within their line of sight before she made it to the cabin out of view.

Ah, whatever. She should just count her blessings.

What was equally curious, though, was the enormous looking conch shell of a... house? nearby the one they were in. There were many drying racks and a wooden staircase leading up to a small, roofed platform sitting on top of the shell. She opted not to bother questioning — rather taking this opportunity to succumb to exhaustion on the tatami flooring, right by the crude kotatsu.

Takashi had unrolled a spare, thin mattress in the living room for his injured guest, taking care in letting the poor woman across his kotatsu sleep. He'll need to wake her up in a few minutes, anyway, if they don't want your condition to severely worsen. He lugged your unconscious body as gently as he could to lay you down on it, but his gaze drifted to the gem laying in his entrance way.

A bright and shiny pyro vision, it seemed, with three circles in its strange case design. He went to pick it up, and it warmed his hand softly. The sigil for pyro was definitely inside the gem.

He sighed.

Takashi crouched by his injured guest and carefully clipped it to the inside of your uniform top, so that it won't fall out anywhere when they need to transfer you to the field hospital.

A pyro user. Maybe the gods still have expectations for you yet, if he's right in his assumption that you're a newer vision bearer. He takes it as a sign that you'll survive.

Smiling to himself, he thinks about just how strange of a night this turned into. Even tucked away from the fight, he still managed to get involved with the war every now and then. Guess it really is inescapable.

Takashi leaves to the kitchen to pour two glasses of water.

Gorou kept up his training like usual, but had increased the intensity of it just enough to make him too tired to think too hard but not exhausted enough to have negative effects later. He battled his mind daily to reassure himself you were doing alright out there, running laps and climing cliffs and training soldiers to keep himself busy enough so he won't feel the pull to go to Her Excellency about the issue. He's long rationalized that the letter was not fake and she was solid in her reasoning, whatever it may be, so he was fighting his own inward battle to keep the selfish part of him down and compliant until you return. It wasn't easy.

Nearly a week had passed since you left when Gorou went to clock out for the night, the moon having long risen and his legs like jelly carrying him through his nightly routine. He may have gone a bit overboard today spending his energy, having been a little too engrossed in assisting more inexperienced recruits with how to use their bows and polearms.

He had stopped abruptly when his eyes caught a glimpse of paper being slipped under his door. Brows pushing down with a small frown, he went to investigate.

It was a simple letter, addressed as it should be and a sparing amount of wax covering the lip. He had returned to his bed, sitting on its edge as he cracked open the envelope and scanned the contents...

Gorou's heart felt like it just dropped to his stomach.

Oh. Oh no.

He had to get there immediately.

"General, sir!" The guard at the door saluted hastily, clearly not expecting to see him. He returns the recognition, not really able to spare much time. The guard holds the door open for him, though, which was nice.

The emergency hospital was hardly anything to look at, just a Watatsumi home repurposed like a few others nearby to be able to treat soldiers in the war effort. Supplies were more or less organizated, but it was still messy and the waste was makeshift in a corner of each room.

One of the doctors walking to another room with a clipboard took notice of Gorou, startling about as significantly as the poor guard earlier. She quickly composed herself with a welcoming smile.

"General, I'm assuming you're here from the letter?"

He nodded, hardly able to open his mouth before the doctor pointed to the room she was about to walk into and spoke again.

"He's in here, please follow me." Gorou did so, walking into the door to the little room barely fit enough for a small futon and some supplies with just enough area to walk around. She spoke up quietly, checking up on vitals and scribbling notes. 

"The Captain has been unconscious for about two days now, but we were able to close up the holes. It was hard to tell how bad the damage was originally, however we believe it was only the small intestine that was severely punctured." She took a glance to your wrapped injury, and flipped some pages to read from. "The wound missed the spine by a few centimeters, and the large intestine was only nicked. The field hospital closer to Nazuchi cleaned it enough to prevent sepsis, but the emergency surgery along with blood loss and severity of the wound will likely keep him in and out of consciousness for a couple weeks. He just got transferred here a few hours ago, so we're still taking stock of his vitals. I have a report being written by the soldier who helped him, if you would like me to send it to you when it's finished."

Gorou was simply standing in the doorway, staring at your sleeping body. It's like he forgot how to move any of his limbs, forgot how to function at all.

She was heading towards him, likely to leave, but gently placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes slid her direction after a slow moment. She had a sad smile. Attempting to comfort him.

"He's in good hands, sir. You don't need to worry." Her hand retreated, and stood a bit awkwardly. "May I...?" 

Ah, right.

"Sorry." He stepped out of the way of the door, fully entering the room.

"No issue. You can stay here as long as you need, but please refrain from budging him or waking him up purposefully. Good evening," she left to attend to another room, and Gorou's ear twitched at the sound of irregular breathing. His head almost snapped to you.

You were already back asleep.

Gorou approached, hesitant, and lowered himself by your side until he was sitting cross-legged and gently holding your hand.

He sighed deeply, softly.

"Hang in there," your name left his breath, carefully bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a single moment. He lowered it back to the futon and took in several grounding breaths.

If he didn't have more to do today, he would have stayed longer. But... He is the General and needs to attend to his duties; plus, falling asleep for the night here would be both uncomfortable and ineffective in several ways. Still, he strongly resolves to make time to visit at least once every day.

Gorou stands up, regarding you one more time with well wishes in his head and walks out.

You awake to a pleasant warmth, a blanket draped over you and a gentle but firm pressure surrounding the majority of your stomach. Your head felt like was stuffed to the brim with cotton, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care all too much. In fact, you were so pleasantly comfortable that your eyes were already drifting back closed without so much of a thought to try observing anything around you. You did still feel pretty exhausted, as though you just ran a ten mile marathon without any water stops.

The air was relatively quiet, though it felt as though everything was far away and the volume was turned to low. You find yourself slipping back into sleep not long after, being lulled by the muttering in the distance.

You find yourself standing by a beach, the calm waves brushing against the bleached sand. The ocean itself was clear, but it held a sort of warmth and color that was difficult to think too much about. It doesn't matter, anyway.

You plod along the coastline, anything below the ankle getting periodically covered with both sand and water alike. You don't feel a thing except for burning warmth radiating from your body, rooted all the way into your soul.

There were various flowers occasionally littered around the shore, stubbornly growing through the mounds of sand and clearly suffering for their naivete. Some of the smaller ones near the waterline simply collapsed, useless and defeated, under the gentle lapping of the waves while you passed by.

It's unclear how long you walked, not even leaving a trail of footprints behind you, when you stopped in your tracks.

You think you see him, past the light fog and through the white noise of the water. He was looking away from you, standing completely still. His hair was the only thing moving with the breeze.

You called out to him.

His ears had twitched, snapped out of a trance to turn to you.

You hadn't gotten the chance to see his face when you were already somewhere else, traveling in the blink of an eye.

He was in bed, once again facing away. It was dark in your shared bedroom; it was nighttime, after all. You slipped under the covers and reached out to him.

When you had touched his shoulders, he cracked. He had crumbled quickly, turning him to less than dust in the air and leaving nothing behind. You stared at the empty space, unable to bring a single thought to mind. You resolve that nothing was there in the first place, so why are you staring at it so much? There's nothing there.

He's not here.

But soon you see yourself laying halfway in a stream in Watatsumi, and he's sobbing over you. You watch him from an aerial view, the tears falling onto your bloodied chest and slipping down into the river. He's cradling you softly, so gently, you feel like you might burst.

He's muttering something to himself, or maybe to you, but you can't seem to get any closer and it frustrates you to no end.

He's been saying the same few things over and over, rocking his and your body back and forth, slowly and haltering. You can hear it in the back of your mind after a moment, whispering in your head despite the distance.

'aishiteru, aishiteru...'

'ikanaide...'

'boku ni modotte kite kudasai, kudasai...'

He holds you closer, shivering as the waves gently wash over you both.

He throws his head back, taking in a trembling breath.

And he howls.

The anguish grips you like no other.

Most of today was free, more specifically from the evening until the next morning. Gorou's day was long and exhausting, haven gone back to the front line the past few days and immediately heading to your room in the hospital when he returned. The battle was won, but it was rough and not many survivors made it back from either side. It was a grievous battle, and his spirits have been low since. He hid it from the other soldiers of course, not wanting to damage their morale, but it was clear to anyone that the General was feeling down.

He once again held your hand as you slept, relaying what happened over the blip of days he was unable to visit. Your lack of anything besides slow, routine breathing did nothing to alleviate his pain, but he supposed it was better than something worse happening.

Gorou adjusted himself to lay on the floor beside you, stomach down and his free arm acting as a pillow for his head. He watched, dejected, the rise and fall of your blanketed chest, and his mind fogged with the losses of yesterday.

He was so exhausted.

He would get up tomorrow to take account of what he could find on the fallen, and speak with the families to share condolences.

His eyes felt so heavy. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest here, if only for a while.

Just a nap.

Once more you feel warmth, and slowly more and more sounds begin to assault your ringing ears. It's not exactly loud, but it's still more than the dead silence you've accustomed yourself to and have deemed that anything more than that is too much.

The pressure on your stomach persists, although there's an additional weight dipping the side of the futon by your arm; your hand on that side currently being enveloped by another's. You could just muster enough energy to turn your head to it, blearily blinking until your eyes could finally focus.

Two fluffy brown ears atop a mop of short hair, face buried behind his own arm while he had a gentle hold on your hand. You watch the slow rise and fall of his back, noting how he's laying stomach-down next to your bed, twisted and curled up a bit in a slightly uncomfortable way. You distantly think about how bad his posture and arms are going to make him feel when he wakes up. Aside from that, though, a smile seemed to have made its way to your mouth without even realizing, watching your love doze for a moment and feeling the weight of how much he cares. But...

Your smile drops as you think about just how worried sick he must be. You promised your best to not push yourself and keep safe, but you distantly recall how you had slipped back into that habit of throwing yourself into battle. 

You hope there weren't any casualties on your side. On your watch. Just the thought of it makes your blood boil and freeze all at once, angry at the enemy and guilty you weren't able to protect the ones under your care.

You open your mouth to speak, maybe to say hello, but nothing came out except the urge to dry heave. It was like cotton and sand was shoved down your throat. 

...Oh. Yeah, maybe that might have happened. You distantly recall getting sand in your mouth at some point.

Looking around, there's a cup of water on a wooden slab the opposite side of where Gorou dozed. You weakly reached your free arm out to grab it, shifting up a bit from where you lay.

The movement seemed to have woke him up, groggy as he lifted his head to see your shaking grip on the cup.

"Ah- hold on, let me.." Gorou said, quickly shaking off the dregs of sleep and reaching to steady your hand. He smiled softly as he helped guide it to your lips.

"You gave me quite the scare, Captain," it wasn't hard to hear the lighthearted teasing of using your title rather than your name. His smile dropped soon after, though, helping set the water back down before he rested his head on your chest with a sigh. "I thought you said you'd try not to get hurt."

Your hand automatically rested in his hair, gently carding through the top and massaging the parts of his ears that he's always loved. The reward of his quiet whine and huff was always worth it.

"To be fair, mister General, I didn't exactly go in there with the intention of being stabbed," you teased, chuckling a bit to yourself. Your other hand came to rest on the back of his shoulder, but it soon moved up to brush away his bangs.

Ohhh, there are those puppy eyes again. Your chest practically squeezes at the sight of him pouting up at you, near tears.

"Okay, okay-" you coax him closer, cupping his cheeks as you pull him in for a chaste kiss. "Just quit looking at me like that. You make me think your heart is physically breaking in two." He whines again, something you don't doubt was a bit involuntary.

"That's not the point!" He whisper-shouted. His eyebrows scrunched down, deepening his pout. "What if you died back there? Your wound was really serious, you know!" You idly wonder if he must have gotten some kind of report from one of your crew, or one of the doctors. Maybe both.

Sighing heavily, you let your movements pause. "You're doing that thing again, love."

"Huh? ..Oh–" His cheeks reddened, and he hid his embarrassment behind his arm. "Sorry. I can't help but get worked up over you."

You hummed softly, smile returning as your fingers ran through his hair once more. "I know." There was an unspoken "I love you" between you both, lingering in the air between steady breaths and the squeeze of interlaced hands. 

It was a mild stretch of comfortable silence that followed, Gorou leaning in to your hand and his thumb idly rubbing the other one he held. It broke when it seemed like he just recalled something suddenly, eyes opening and sitting up properly.

"I- ah.. There's something else I think you should see, too." Gorou turned to the little makeshift desk beside him and the bed, picking up a bundle of cloth and gently setting it in your waiting palms. "It was found attached to your shirt when you were transported to the Nazuchi hospital, but it had to come off momentarily while they operated." You stared down at the cloth, slowly unwrapping it. "They said that you were running a high fever that only lessened a little when it was put a short distance away from you."

Sitting amid the unwrapped cloth, adorned pristinely with the Inazuman-styled metal, was a pyro vision.

It pulsed rhythmically, gently warming your hands. It felt so welcoming.

You must have teared up a bit, because you found yourself blinking away your blurry view and Gorou was looking slightly alarmed.

But you just smiled.

You were home.